Meet The Spartans - The Worst Film Ever Made?

I'm going to cut to the chase. Meet The Spartans is 78 minutes of complete and total, unmitigated shit. Quite how the writers (dreaded spoof-movie 'gurus' Friedberg and Seltzer) manage to achieve such levels of buttock-twinging awfulness is a mystery. If you want to experience the film without forking out the price of a cinema ticket, simply ask a friend to say "isn't 300 really gay" and "boobs" over and over again. Trust me, you'll save yourself much time, effort and cash. In fact, what am I saying? If you really want to replicate the experience of watching this film, ask your friend to hit your nut-sack with a tennis racket for 2 hours continuously - the only difference is that this experience would be slightly funnier.

I'm all in favour of spoofs and love a good boob-joke as much as the next man, but here there is nothing to induce even the faintest of wry smiles. Compared to the likes of Hotshots, Airplane! or Shaun of the Dead, classic spoofs all of them, this looks like a student film shot by a group of drunks who've all had humour labotomies. Sean Maguire (clearly cast due to his impressive back-catalogue of Grange Hill, Eastenders and Holby City) gives the worst comedic performance I've ever witnessed on celluloid, whilst Carmen Electra looks and acts every inch the desperate, leather-faced old slag that she is. Pop-culture references are shoe-horned in at every opportunity, and none of them hit the mark (or even come close for that matter).

If you do for some reason decide to inflict this film upon yourself, you'll leave the cinema in a state of quiet shock (I was glued to my seat by sheer exasperation until the final credit had rolled). And, oddly enough, you might well come to the conclusion that this film actually says more about the state of American culture than any Oscar-winner ever will.