Nirvana is Ninja Cheerleaders

There comes a time when a movie comes along, that a man simply knows, deep within his soul, that nothing could ever eclipse its genius. Ninja Cheerleaders, my friends, is that very movie.

I knew I’d hit a goldmine when I saw George Takei listed in the credits, sure his unerring integrity was the only real endorsement David Presley’s script needed. Not only was I proven correct, but his portrayal of Hiroshi, sensei to the trio of cheerleaders, literally had me weeping, caught in the tremendous perfection this low-budget comedy deserves! His ability to knowingly laugh on cue and cast approving nods is hereby unequaled, lending dramatic weight to something masquerading as terrible schlock.

Some of you may be asking yourselves, “Did we see the same movie?” or perhaps, “Exactly how high was David Presley when he wrote this?” or possibly even, “God, why!?” But know, you poor mislead and unfortunate creatures, that the true greatness bubbles, like a vat of baby-pot-pie, beneath the tattered and deplorable surface. This movie claims to be a comedy, but the honest truth, is that it critically reprimands our society for our dwindling social mores, our haste to judgment, and especially the harrowing lack of cheerleaders which exhibit criminally abysmal skill in the lost art of Ninjutsu. Some may insist a link between the slow extinction of Ninjas and the looming cataclysm which will obliterate the world in 2012, is impossible or at least highly unlikely. But Ninja Cheerleaders is a warning to us all, and absolutely not ridiculously atrocious garbage mistakenly committed to film by a cavalcade of deluded actors.

The best example I can cite came near the end of the flick. The main opposing Ninja, a Ninja-ette perhaps, refers to herself in the third person. At one point, this memorable dialogue takes place after a cop claims she can not shoot him with her crossbow, currently pointed completely in the opposite direction:

Cop: You’re not that fast!

Kinji: [shoots cop with crossbow]

Kinji: Kinji is that fast.

How is this not the equal of Second City, Kids in the Hall, or Monty Python? I’ll tell you! It’s better. It’s tongue-in-cheek, insightful, and poignant, where other such examples fall flat. The humor here is biting, sardonic, and wild. Nobody hams up his or her performance without reason, or delivers monotonous readings without fully wringing out every last drop of irony.

This, my friends, is what cinema should be!

Until Tomorrow