The Worst Movies of 2016 So Far

2. Punk’s Dead: SLC Punk 2

Most movies are self-contained by nature and, therefore, don’t need sequels. But there are some, like The Empire Strikes Back, Toy Story 2 & 3, The Godfather Part II, Evil Dead 2, Spider-Man 2, Before Sunset, Before Midnight and The Dark Knight, to name a handful, that not only justify their existence, but actually improve upon the original and feel vital. They flesh out ideas, characters and storylines, add layers and meaning where they didn’t exist before and compliment the bigger picture-at-play. They not only enrich their series, but the art of filmmaking on the whole, overcoming the odds to provide something powerful, meaningful and valuable in their craft. Punk’s Dead: SLC Punk 2 is not that kind of film, to say the least.

We’re living in the age of overdue, ill-considered sequels, and I’ve already mentioned quite a few. But SLC Punk is a distinct level of terrible. Writer/director James Merendino’s Kickstarter-funded follow-up to his 1998 cult classic is an unlovable runt of the film. It was released a full 18 years after the original, and it lacks any of the vibrant visual style or reflective self-awareness from the first film. It also only features one, maybe two stars from the original cast, and chooses the most convoluted story methods to connect back to the first. But most of all, it’s shockingly lazy and insultingly hackneyed, clearly the product of a filmmaker harkening back on his former glory rather than adding anything valuable to the continuation of his original story. In fact, I didn’t even believe it was the original filmmaker until I looked at the box; that’s how different this ones feels.

With poorly-drawn new characters, awful cinematography, indifferent direction and, worse of all, some piss-poor punk music, it’s among the most insufferable 75 minutes I’ve ever sat through and probably one of the worst sequels I’ve ever seen in my life. If punk is, indeed, dead, then the prospect of a SLC Punk sequel should have been killed in its place. And it should’ve been killed in a blaze of fire, on stage, yelling at the top of its lungs in front of its peers. That would’ve been way more punk than anything I witnessed here.