College Leaves its Stain on One’s Very Humanity.


Film critics never come home stinking of their honest labor, but the nearest equivalent is covering something like College, which leaves its stain on one’s very humanity. Three high-school bros on a college visit—a dork, a gelatinous loudmouth, and a faintly sympathetic straight man with anime-character hair—run afoul of a frat marshaled by a smug Van Wilder/that-Sugar-Ray-guy amalgam who subjects the boys to Sadean hazing. (He also has the one funny line: “What the fuck do you know about welfare reform?”) And so begins a morally numbing gantlet run through mechanical decadence, surpassing even the straight-to-DVD, soul-gangbanging American Pie Presents: The Naked Mile. “Queef,” “tossed salad,” Verne Troyer, and the ol’ fist-pump, open-mouth, tongue-in-cheek blowjob pantomime are utilized just as though they were jokes (what, kids—no “donkey punch”?). The overall mood is limply obligatory, as if everyone involved had been court-ordered to make a raunchfest party flick (director Deb Hagen only tunes in during her one tracking shot). One can’t imagine there’s an actual screenplay behind this—somebody seems to think Fatty is so good you can just let him riff. Nearly justifies traveling back in time to pre-emptively kill Edison, Muybridge, and the Lumière brothers.