Live Review: Project X

In the late '60s, the desperation of studio heads to reach out to the waning youth market was one of the key factors that resulted in the New Hollywood boom; the heyday of Martin Scorsese, Francis Ford Coppola, Bonnie & Clyde, Easy Rider, et al. In 2012, a similar impulse results in Project X, a celebration of dickhead culture so obnoxious  it can be usefully used as a litmus test to discern the Worst People Ever. It's produced by party-cinema maestro Todd Phillips (The Hangover, Old School), written by various fratboy date-rapists and directed by The Simpsons' dog-with-attitude Poochie (the 'kung fu hippy from gangster city').

Sporting a meaningless title that serves as little more than a catchy marketing hook and the promise of T&A, the film at least has the decency to get the worst out of the way first. Adopting that annoying but economic found-footage gimmick (that the recent Chronicle so cleverly subverted), the film is nothing if not watchable in a braindead way, once the Superbad-via-vomitcam-without-funny setup is behind and the party – held by three nerds yearning for popularity – gets out of control. Granted, that's likely because the chances of onscreen douchebag-death have increased.

You could tune out and enjoy the playlist, but the litany of “faggots” that dominates the dialogue mostly drowns out the music. You could call Project X damaging, morally bankrupt, misogynistic, homophobic – but that's precisely the indignant reaction it courts, daring one to lambast it at the risk of being labelled a killjoy or a prude. In many ways, the film's a resounding success in what it sets out to achieve and has a purity that's almost trainwreck-fascinating. Nonetheless, it's objectively a piece of shit.