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Retains a certain B-movie moxie, but its chaotic nature fatigues the film long before it reaches its non-conclusion. Points to Kaufman for the hurricane of sick ideas, but would it kill Troma to show a little patience?
Because it actively defies and outright ridicules all notions of aesthetic intent, proper form, and moral propriety, this lazy Z-film pastiche is essentially impervious to standard critical evaluation.
Even if it weren't a quasi-remake of 1986's anarchic Class of Nuke 'Em High, it would still feel borrowed and shoddy: Back is the cheesy green-goo spouting out of heads as students turn "cretin" from toxic food.