Him

How many penalty flags can I throw at the incredibly stupid, new sports horror mashup, HIM?

Like some Thursday Night Football, hot garbage match up between the Jets and the Panthers, this one plods along aimlessly, strutting far more confidently than anything on screen warrants.

A mess from the start, it feels like the three screenwriters, including Director Justin Tipping, threw every story idea they had in a helmet and then bashed the hell out of them without any sense of timing, story structure or suspense.

As the film opens, we see flashbacks of a young boy and his father watching Football hero Isaiah White (Marlon Wayans, head and shoulders above any other actor on display) conquering the field and scoring multiple touchdowns as fighters soar overhead and gloriously stream red, white and blue smoke.

Then we flash forward to that young boy, Cameron Cade, who's now a much sought after college Quarterback. Cameron is played by Tyriq Withers (I Know What You Did Last Summer) in a dull, wooden performance that must have raised some eyebrows in dailies.

He looks the part, but he's blown off the screen by some average actors here and when he's on screen next to Wayans, who has more charisma in his pointer finger than Withers has in full uniform, he fades deep into the green grass.

I'm surprised that Jordan Peele, who produced this movie, didn't offer more feedback or somehow try to save it. This slop is calling for a Peele intervention like the one Spielberg did for Tobe Hooper on "Poltergeist".

Maybe Peele just wanted to keep hands off to honor Tipping's "vision". That would be justified if Tipping actually had one.

Slow motion abounds, demonic creatures pop in and out, interacting with the characters with no rhyme or reason other than to advance the action in a disjointed screenplay that tries to bridge empty ideas with Chapter Titles.

A Tom Brady level goat, White is talking retirement and sees Cameron as his possible replacement. He invites Cameron to train at his facility in the desert, a curving compound that looks like a dull hybrid of a OO7 villain lair and and a Mad Max oasis.

Speaking of Mad Max, what's with the band of "end of the world" doomsayers that linger outside White's compound with apocalyptic signs and even worse haircuts?

Nonsensical and undefined threats never amount to any scares, any more than lazy jump cuts and unending satanic allusions.

I was never scared, but I was plenty bored.

As good as Wayans is, he'd have been even better served by a Director that left him some range to play with and create menace. Here, he's so full tilt that there is no gas left in the tank for actual tension when the time comes. Think about Al Pacino in "The Devil's Advocate", or hell, even Ruth Gordon in "Rosemary's Baby". They were seductive, ingratiating and supportive, until they exposed their true intent. Wayans turns the crazy meter up so high, so fast, he makes Jack Torrance look positively calm by comparison.

By halftime of this crap, it was wearing thin. By the fourth quarter, Tipping decides to replace scares or storytelling with blood and shocks that don't land. Is this all Cameron's visions after his brain injury? Is it a ham-handed allegory about NFL players and owners? Or just an unfocused mess?

If this was a game, I would have turned it off well before the final whistle.

Void of real ideas and stranding Wayans in search of a much better film, this is a rare misfire for anything with Peele's name attached.

My guess is he'll be a lot more selective or hands on the next time he produces a film. To me, the Peele name means quality, great storytelling and compelling characters. The Peele brand gets sacked this time out.

HIM splats limply onto the playing field with a D.

R rated red band trailer below.