In Horror Comedy Jersey Shore Massacre, Stereotypes Die Blandly


The exceedingly gruesome Jersey Shore Massacre is likely to amuse but then repulse those who once relished the whiny twang of the young Italian housemates on MTV’s hit show Jersey Shore.

Bypassing the beach altogether, writer-director Paul Tarnopol sends six bodacious Jersey girls on vacation to a remote (but swanky) house near the fabled Pine Barrens.

There’s a deformed killer in them thar woods, but since he doesn’t truly wreak havoc until the film’s final third, viewers have a full hour to decide who’s more dim-witted — the six women, or the muscled hunks they bring home from a bar. Tarnopol opens nearly every scene with a shot of a bikini-clad woman adjusting her cleavage, but in the contest for who’s dumber, the over-tanned guys win hands down.

The send-up is sometimes funny but mostly boring (like the show itself). When the killer finally arrives, rusty tools in hand, the director makes an awkward shift into Friday the 13th mode.

Even Jersey Shore haters aren’t likely to grin when the killer takes a hatchet to one woman’s breasts or uses an electric sander to de-tattoo one of the hunks. Watching the hopelessly vapid get taken out, one by one, has never been more depressing.