There are great tragedies of our time. 9/11. Darfur. All of the dozens of blood-drenched conflicts raging globally at any given time. Even... the death of Barbaro.
And then there's the fact that this movie rated a sequel. Almost too horrifying to contemplate, but true. "Ski School 2" reunited the cast of this stinker.
Why, Lord? Why? Imagine being locked in a tiny closet with a loud, drunken, sweating fat man convinced he's God's gift to comedy, that anything he says is funny. And farts? A laugh riot! If you can picture this ... save your money... you've already been drenched in the full, sticky "Ski School" experience.
The lead actors - especially Fratkin and Cameron - are absolutely charmless, almost dementedly unfunny. They're as cheery as polio. But the director of "Ski School" apparently thinks they're the funniest, most endearing rascals this side of "Animal House". The women in this film are there simply to look adoringly at these jackasses and drop their bras. That's it. No personality. Barely able to make intelligible vocal sounds. This is how women are imagined by guys spawned at the bottom of high-school hierarchy - the ones who never got dates and could only imagine what "cool" attractiveness could possibly mean...
"Ski School" has no temperature. I can't conceive of seeing the sequel. But then, I don't like to imagine falling into a wood chipper, either.
