Supercross: The Movie—not to be confused with Supercross: The Art Installation— is easily the finest good-bad Hollywood movie so far this year. Not since Burt Reynolds’s Stroker Ace has a racing movie provided so many laughs, intentional or otherwise. With flat, grainy cinematography and dialogue that has to be heard to be believed (“I love your hunger! You’re like a rabid dog!”), Supercross: The Movie most closely resembles late-night Cinemax softcore, with orgasmic bike jumps in place of sex. Two bickering, pool-cleaning brothers, who love nothing more than talking to each other with their shirts off, discover the harsh realities of the motorbike circuit while restoring their fraternal bond through their mutual love of delicious Papa John’s pizza (no, really). Director Steve Boyum, a former motocross driver, hacks his racing footage to incomprehensible pieces and, from the looks of the meager, jumpy narrative, did the same to the script: Subplots are introduced and abandoned, and a story line about “the mysterious death” of the brothers’ father appears on Supercross‘s website but not in the actual film. You’ll have to look for that in Supercross: The Deleted Scenes.