Editor’s Note: I started writing this out of pure unadulterated passion when I got home after watching this. After sleeping it off, I continued writing it in a much more calm, cool, and collected fashion. I decided to keep the bits I wrote the night of.
I’m writing this while sipping on a pilsner and riding out a sugar high from too many Mars bar bites. My friends and I made an evening out of this. We assembled with snacks and whiskey and craft beer and watched one of the worst received movies this year. We do this often, bad movie nights, but this feels special. It’s a bittersweet feeling, making a ritual out of consuming somebody else’s art to purposefully make fun of it.
Wait, did I just call The Bye Bye Man art? Fuck me. I’d like to formally apologize to the entirety of human arts and culture.
This movie is a piece of trash. On fire. In a dumpster. That’s also on fire. A fucking dumpster trash fire fire. The Bye Bye Man, while being the worst named horror movie ever (maybe even worse than Hellraiser: Deader), feels like it shouldn’t be joked about. It’s too easy. The jokes practically write themselves as the story flashes on screen in front of consistently disbelieving eyes and open jaws.
Elliot, Sasha, and John are moving into a new house, and find a dresser drawer with the words “don’t think it, don’t say it” scribbled on it and then “The Bye Bye Man” scratched into it. Fun fact: this drawer belonged to some dude in the ’60s who committed a mass shooting and suicide because he was spooked by some paranormal entity named the Bye Bye Man. Now, the Bye Bye Man is terrorizing these three teenagers because they read his name. Who’s the Bye Bye Man, you might be asking? Well, that’s a good question, and don’t hold your breath, because you won’t find out. (more…)