This totally forgotten movie is, in theory, a sequel to the equally unknown movie The Fear (1995 / trailer), but in the end it is far more a straightforward remake because it far less continues the story of the first film than it does simply retell it, with a few modifications in the plot and in a new setting. In the end, whether one views it as a sequel or remake is relatively unimportant, but what must be said and cannot be denied is that it is a pretty crappy and boring and stupid movie that in no way deserved being made much less being watched.
The plot, as mentioned before, is a reiteration of the first film, but whereas in part one a group of late-twens (early-thirties?) get together for a weekend of facing their fears as part of "a field session [...] weekend of fear exploration in a controlled environment" and then end up dying one by one at the hands of a wooden statue named Morty (Erick Weiss), in The Fear: Resurrection a dorky guy named Mike (Gordon Currie of The Terror Within II  and The Woods ) returns home to his grandparents (Betsy Palmer of Friday the 13th [1980 / trailer] and Larry Pennell of somewhere in Bubba Ho-Tep ) with a bunch of dick-ass friends to throw, he claims, a Halloween party in which each should dress up as their worst fear but which, in truth, is his attempt to confront his worst fear — namely, that he'll become a mass-murdering psycho like his daddy. Needless to say, by the end of the film a lot of people die, but we for one would say not the right ones.
OK, to give praise where praise is deserved, the opening of The Fear: Resurrection is pretty groovy: Mom and son in Halloween costumes on the way home stop at the scene of what looks to be a car accident on a lonesome road. But, no: it's Daddy/hubby killing some female motorist — Mommy/wifey dies soon enough and son gets tossed in the trunk of Daddy's car and then the movie goes downhill quicker than shit begins to stink. As of the minute the film jumps to "20 years later" and the now-adult son Mike pops up on screen, the pacing becomes non-existent, the story development ridiculous, the movie a disaster.
As is the case with too many films of its ilk, the stale set up is as unconvincing as are the various "friends" that take part in the weekend. With the exception of Mike's girlfriend Peg (Stacy Grant), none of the one-dimensional characters believably convey that they hang together regularly, much less that they are close-knit group of pals. Ever notice how in these films, no matter how long the guys and gals have supposedly been friends they never stop hitting up on each other? Really: you go on a weekend excursion with only old friends — not one of which is a fuck buddy — and then actually plan to get laid? Realistic behavior, like a believable plot, is not to be found in this movie here. Example of truly believable behavior found in this film: When Morty walks in and disturbs a couple fucking, the guy, Mitch (Phillip Rhys), is so unimpressed by a walking wooden man that the only thing he can say is something like "Hey Dude, get outta here." Though the scene offered the best belly laugh of the movie, we were nevertheless happy to see Mitch fly out the window.
And, actually, let's take a look at Morty (John Paul Fedele) for a second. A life-size wooden statue of a dressed man created by the ancestors of an American Indian named Crow (Byron Chief-Moon) named "Morty"? So whatya think: Is that a Cherokee or a Sioux name? And why create and then tend, over generations, an evil totem, one that is just as willing to kill those of your tribe as it is to kill total strangers? An evil totem that can only be controlled in that a BIG magic charm is kept around its neck — but that Crow takes forever to notice is gone? Damn, dude: even if you are an American Indian, you really deserve to die — as does, to tell the truth, the totally dislikable character Chris (MYC Agnew of Showgirls 2: Penny's from Heaven [2011 / trailer]), the dickhead who steals the magic charm for no real reason other than that if he doesn't do so Morty can't get moving. Unluckily, the dickhead survives the movie.
Oh, yeah, we forgot: Morty is an indestructible shapeshifter — that can be burned to death? And that dicky last scene foreshadowing Mike's eventual evolution into his Dad after all... What the fuck did the scriptwriter do with his brain when he wrote this bowl of smegma?
Before you get the idea that The Fear: Resurrection might in any way be exciting or scary, be forewarned that almost all the unconvincing death and destruction happens a good 50 minutes into the movie: but for the first five minutes of this preceding 50, all that happens is a lot of talk, talk, talk... and then even more talk. And it isn't like the film is a masterpiece of insightful dialogue or humor, either. It's simply verbose... and boring. So boring that we don't even know why we're bothering to write about it... And, damn! Not even one of the good-looking gals alleviates the tedium by baring a naked midriff, much less a breast.
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