When it comes to movies, there are a few things that are necessary in order to guarantee that it doesn’t become another Batman & Robin: a good screenplay, a decent script, a good cast of actors and a decent director. Now with recently notorious directors such as Uwe Boll, Joel Schumacher and Paul W. S. Anderson as head members of the celluloid axis of evil, no movie is safe. They could take great story with an awesome cast and turn it into an incoherent ghetto version of matrix.

Even so, sometimes all the stars align and we are subjugated to a movie that gets everything wrong. This is what we call a B-movie which in my opinion is the best source of unintentional comedy. Especially those B-movies that are so self-intoxicated with testosterone fueled ego (for example Ultraviolet or Ballistic: Ecks vs. Sever) that the movie quickly turns into a mindless clash of Kung-fu chops and bad dialog, with plot holes the size of Delta Burkes ass.

But those kind of movies are still fun to watch. I mean there is just something magical about watching Antonio Banderas running from explosions down a train yard all while totally catching every huge piece of debris and shrapnel with his weathered baseball mitt of a face… over and over again. And as unrealistic a scene that may be it’s based on a true story, it’s called “Superman: The Movie”.

Then there is the kind of movie that takes the obvious bad route and steals their directors and dialog from bad Power Ranger episodes, a movie that’s unapologetically as bad as the want to be. Enter Ice Cream Man, staring the always startling Clint Howard, a man so ugly I created a theory that your ugliness is proportional to mental competency (or lack thereof). Unpleasing aesthetics aside this man can sure deliver some of the worst lines of dialog without even batting a eye, and if that does not show the pure level of dedication Clint has for a script (even if it was written purely on cocktail napkins during a six day bender) I don’t know what does. God! Look at that fucking face… Ok anyways before I comatose by continuing to look at Clint’s crusty mug lets go on with the review... Want some ice cream?

Ok, I have to warn you before going any farther. This movie is gay, and I don’t mean the kind of gay when a homosexual man feels an insatiable lust to violently pummel another man’s rectal track with all his 8 gay inches of throbbing man stuffs; that’s nature’s kind of gay. I mean the kind of gay that only a Rob Schneider movie could reproduce, and now that I put that pretty picture in your head just imagine something far worst than that… worst than Rob Schneider.

This is the story of Gregory Tudor (Clint Howard), as a young boy Greg was both traumatized and aroused by the sight of everyone’s favorite drug dealing Ice cream man being assassinated in front of his very eyes, since that day he has asked the age old question: “Who is going to bring the ice cream Mommy?!” Who is going to bring the ice cream indeed…

After asking myself that very question several times over the course of a few minutes it started to sound strange in my head, then I imagined Vanilla Ice was coming out of retirement with a new dance routine called “Bringin’ da ice creem!” which saddens me that this is not the case. I have to quit drinking…

Gregory has grown to become the bitter and irrationally ugly ice cream man he has always dreamed to be. Pursuing his childhood obsession with drug pushing ice cream vendors and insane child rapists, he has combined his two hobbies into an impressive job description: Politician. But if that’s not impressive enough he has added murderer to his resume. As the towns citizens enjoy shoving incredibly phallic ice-treats into there pie holes, everyone’s lust for ice cream seems to be clouding there judgment, allowing Gregory to remain above suspicion (although being the most obvious suspect) as he slowly introduce his victims into his ever growing list of ice cream ingredients. Moral of the story: Ice cream makes people incredibly dumb and can be used as bait against your prey.

I can’t blame Gregory for being a murderer, especially after seeing the characters he has to deal with in a daily basis. I mean come on, who hasn’t been tempted to twist the head of an obnoxious little fat kid?! Anyone? Just me? Hmmm… Speaking of vagina spawned hell beasts, meet the brat pack: Johnny, Tuna, Small Paul and Heather. They are the young rascals that make up the local “It’s ok to be gay” club named “Rocketeers” (otherwise known as Ride On Cock Kissing Eight-graders To Erect Equal Rights Society) where they go around town on secret yet flamboyantly explicit missions, but spend most of there time hanging out in the park eating ice pops while reenacting Project Runway episodes.

The odd man out would be Tuna. Instead of hiring a kid who was fat in real life they opted instead to stuff the shirt of some random kid with a pillow. It’s so obvious it’s a standard bedroom pillow too. What makes this character even more a joke is his name, Tuna Cassera, as if someone in the staff just mentioned “Tuna Casserole” on the set and the director was hard press to come up with character names:

Director: “Tuna Casserole, hmmm… Casserole, Casseral, Cassera. That’s it! You! Pillow stuffed kid, from now on you are Tuna Cassera”

Did I mention that the director’s an active drug addict and his previous works where softcore pornography? Its true, you can’t make this stuff up.

Apparently Gregory does not hold the monopoly in being bat-shit crazy and acting all around Tom Cruise-esque. Grounds keeper Sodomy here seems to enjoy the look of silent terror on young impressionable faces. I like scaring the shit out of kids as much as the next guy, but once you start sprouting grey hairs its time to pack that act up and grow up.

After all the other kids are scared off, Roger is left alone to sulk with his loser self.

Roger, like all potential fat asses need the comfort that only the sweet kisses of fried food and ice cream can produce. So in order to quell the screaming demon babies raging in his head, he needs ice cream and he needs it NOW!

After learning Roger has gone missing, the police are out looking for leads on his disappearance. Canvassing the area for suspects, the officers spot the ice cream man and stop him to ask a few questions. These guys are brilliant. They totally overlook the fact that Gregory fits the profile for being an inbred Grade-A killer, and instead ask him to keep an eye out for the kid. Then officer Ass-wipe asks Gregory for some of his “world famous hardpack”. I don’t exactly know what that means but to me it seems to be dripping with homosexual undertones. Told you this movie was gay!

Gregory serves the officer his ice cream with a little something extra. What follows is a border-line pornographic scene where the actor tries to make it apparent to the audience that he is eating an eyeball, all while shit colored cream glazes his teeth. This scene goes on for a good twelve seconds, so you can’t imagine how it plays out in slow motion (as I had to see it in order to capture the screenshots). Dude! you are making us all nauseous, stick to porn where you belong!

After arriving at Heathers house, the guys seem to notice something bothering Heather but don’t care enough to ask. The guys leave her behind to deal with the drama. After entering the house she finds her strung out mother is having another crack withdrawal. Heather’s father being the self righteous preacher that he is confuses his wife’s incoherent ramblings with her talking to GOD AND HIS RIGHT HAND ANGEL!

Reverend Crazy Boots:

“Heather, come quickly! The archangel Gabriel is speaking through your mother again!”

Heather franticly runs off to hide her moms crack pipe. No-mo wacky co-cracky for you mommy!

Leaving Heathers house, the rest of the gang (being the douche bags they are) decide to leave defenseless Small Paul behind. Like any other kid sharing a striking resemblance to Macaulay Culkin, Small Paul seems to gravitate to white creepy pedophilic men. And just like the King of Pop, Paul catches Gregory dancing. For that, SMALL PAUL MUST DIE!

Tuna just happens to be jogging near by when all the sudden he witnesses Small Paul’s kidnapping. Tuna hides but is spotted thanks to his clumsy fat ass. So Gregory goes the route of the ex-girlfriend and begins to stalk Tuna.

What follows is an army of stupid scenes, including a super market chase scene where Tuna escapes the Ice Cream Man's frosty Kung Fu grip by hitching a ride on a produce cart. And cameo appearances by Porn Star Tori Welles, and former “ Peoples Court ” announcer Doug Llewelyn.

With so many members of the adult industry involved in this movie (porn stars, porn directors and even porn music composers) one begins to wonder what affect all the whores and Television has-beens may have on our child prodigies. Would they be mentally scarred after witnessing depraved sexual acts? Have they grown up to be sexual deviants following the likes of George Michaels? Have they uncovered adult industry trade secrets and needed to be silenced? All I know is the kids haven’t been seen since this movie, which leads me to believe that they have all been killed during filming. Awesome! That kinda makes this movie a snuff film.

Anyway, back to the movie. The police get wind of Small Paul’s kidnapping and decide to storm Gregory’s unholy ice cream factory. They find nothing out of the ordinary but in the process of searching take great pleasure in destroying the place. Breaking walls, furniture, appliances and most importantly: Gregory’s fragile little heart!

Being the passive-aggressive powder keg that Gregory is, this just fuels him to escalate his violent rampage. He swears to his hero the long dead Ice Cream King that everyone is going to pay, EVERYONE! But not before he confronts the detective themselves with compelling yet questionable dialog.

Gregory:

“But I’m the Ice cream man, I make children happy! Today you ruined the happiness of those children for many days to come… Do you understand the consequences?!!”

Detective Douche bag:

“You know, I never thought about it like that”

Gregory:

“Yea, I BET YOU DIDN’T!!!”

Then like an ungodly duet singing duo (read: Hall & Oats), Detective Gifford and Gregory utter the best incoherent lines in the whole movie while referring to plastic sun flower lawn ornaments:

Detective Gifford: “You know, those daisies are magnificent. How do you do that?”

Gregory: “Actually I chop up police officers and use them as fertilizer, they make great fertilizer”

Then there is the Space Nazis… SPACE NAZIS?!!! Oops… Sorry, wrong movie review.

As promised, Gregory is out to for revenge as only a homicidal maniac can deliver. He doesn’t pull any punches here. He’s a man on a mission, a mission that leads him to sawing his victim’s heads off and serving them in huge waffle cones, then grinding up whores and mixing them into his frozen treats. Wait! Make sure you pick out the diaphragms! We wouldn’t want nosy customers asking questions later would we?

Gregory decides to open a YMCA in his very ice cream parlor by teaching Small Paul the ins and outs of being a cannibalistic serial killer. As far as father figures may go, Gregory just might be Paul’s best bet. Gregory has a zest for life, a great work ethics and the all American way of thinking: kill anyone that gets in your way.

While Gregory is busy going around town killing the social misfits, our officers decide that preventing homicides isn't there highest priority, but digging up some dirt on Gregory is. I am pretty sure that a deciding factor for graduating from police academy is your level of brain damage, the dumber you are the better. Remember the Police Academy movies? Well, they where actually documentaries!

The Detectives waste more time by learning useless information like how plastic flowers keep the crazy people happy. While I am no doctor, I am pretty sure that shoving large needles up random patient’s genitals while shouting to in their faces “HAPPY!!! HAPPY!!! HAPPY!!!” is NOT going to lead to a lot of happy people. The detective returns to his retarded line of questioning: “So you do uh, shock therapy-lobotomies. Like uh, that coo-coo movie?” Hold on a second! What the fuck is shock therapy-lobotomy?! Is it when you scoop out someone’s brains while you’re shocking their testicles? I must be an absolute moron for watching this movie.

As they continue their search, they soon discover the staff at the Wishing Well Mental Institution is performing unconventional alternative treatment on the patients, causing an outbreak of horrible acting and homicidal tendencies. After years of extensively investigating grizzly murders, brutal suicides and rape cases, we find our hard-boiled detectives are easily fazed by nothing more than:

Satanic imagery aside, the patience at Wishing Well are nothing more than a bunch of heavily medicated fun-loving zombies. I mean who wouldn’t want one for there very own? Just don’t call them crazy to their face or they just might suck your brain out through an oversized novelty straw (trust me, they can do it!).

If what detectives just witnessed is any indication as to the inner workings of Gregory’s mind, Gregory must be a fucking super zombie that can spray acid with his MIND! And with that thought they decide its best to leave the zombie mole-people at peace eating each other and go find out what there friend Gregory has been up to. Then again, I cannot rule out the possibility that they are total pussies.

The Ice Cream Man has been busy. Tuna’s been kidnapped so the kids and Johnny’s older brother Jacob mount a rescue to save him. Jacob brings his girlfriend along because he doesn’t love her. Soon after Jacob and his girlfriend are murdered… to death, leaving the kids to fend for themselves. After lots of stupid running and a ten minute puppet show Gregory puts on using decapitated heads, he has the brats in his grasp.

Before being able to dispose of the fuckers, Small Paul uses the picture of the Ice Cream King to lure Gregory near a huge mixing vat, where the Ice Cream Man plunges to his death. As we see his corpse high-kick its way to hell.

A few weeks later, the Rocketeers replace Small Paul with Roger, affectively decreasing the groups total combined IQ to 13. We also find that murdering ice cream vendors is the new fad in rapid weight lost, Tuna has lost a lot of weight by assisting in the killing of anyone tempting him with delicious fatty foods (and through the Hollywood magic of pillow removal). But what happened to Small Paul you ask?

Like so many bad movies before. We are treated with one last glimpse of Small Paul taking after the Ice Cream Man, leaving an opening for a sequel. Apparently insanity cures blindness, as we can see here with Small Paul. He lost the glasses but gained a locker full of psychological trauma and unknown sexual issues. Roll Credits… The end.

And there you have it. This movie feels like it needed something extra, maybe Rob Reiner as Clint Howard’s bumbling sidekick, kinda like Lex Luthor’s lapdog Otis.

Otis: ”Mister Lootor, I put the dynamite in your weapon like you said"

Lex: “Not the weapon you bumbling fool! I said in Superman’s mouth! "

Then again, maybe not.

Like the questionable creamy white substance found in your drink after a quick and risky midnight run to McDonalds, this movie leaves a bad taste in your mouth at the end and does not seem to have any redeeming qualities, unless you’re like me and watch this kind of shit plastered off Devils Spring Vodka. In that case this movie could be a moving yet telling spiritual awakening like any Jean-Claude Van Damme film. If you put it that way this movie isn’t half bad, just make sure you are inebriated on some “controlled substance” before attempting to watch this crap.