Somebody will figure this out.

I used to have a dog named Dodger. I loved this dog more than anything. Sure, he would do bad dog things sometimes, but nothing unforgivable.

One time, though, on our daily walk, he shit ten times. Read that again. Ten times. Now Pups would occasionally drop a bonus deuce, but ten? Double digits? Unheard of. And with only two grocery bags in hand, I found myself dealing with way more shit that one could responsibly be responsible for. I started out making the best of it, but by the end, I just had to ignore all the crap, shrug my shoulders like an a-hole, and get the Hell outta there, you know?

It was an awfully shitty afternoon, but no matter what, I still loved that dog. Nothing was ever going to change that.

Maybe M. Night also ate something he wasn't supposed to, as that's the only logical existence for the Target bag full of crap that is his latest flick, Old. An unhealthy mix of clunky and ridiculous, this f--ker was a crushing disappointment. Not only because it was so consistently stupid, but I also because I brought (and paid for) my family with me, inadvertently vouching for it in the process. Don't worry everybody, M. Night, he's a friend of ours.

Not even really sure if I'm getting this correct (nor does it even matter), but Old kicks things off with a fairly silly set up. A family of four arrives at a luxurious resort to have one last go-round of happy times before the parents announce their divorce. But that may be a little White Lotus cross mojination happening here (blame Alexandria Daddario - always), forgive me, as it's been a minute, but let's go with that as the premise. Oh, and the circumstances about the whole thing (minus the impending divorce) are fairly mysterious (aw, jeez...I might be thinking about  Nine Perfect Strangers now...[blame Nicole Kidman's accent - always).

While you may be able to forgive me for mashing all of these stories together (I saw this movie the day it came out [as one does with M. Night films]), it's going to be a lot harder to forgive just about everything that happens outside of the exposition. The family and some other (seemingly) random jerk-offs from the hotel are whisked away to the beach and immediately abandoned, literally, by M. Night himself. I'd tell you what happens next but you already know/I don't hate you (that much). 

What I do hate, is trying to make sense of my notes (and handwriting) half a school-year later. Here are the Yays and Boos, as best I can make them out. It's not quite torch-on-a-wall translating, but it's pretty frickin' close.

Each of these characters has the depth of your typical NPC.

Yaaaaaaay?

• Yo, a personal intro by M. Night himself? Yes, please. (was there a personal apology after the credits?)
• That all-glass hotel room was pretty dope (but, uh...everyone seeing in isn't exactly a selling point for me)
• Coin slot and side-boob? Don't mind if I do...
• At one point in the film, Dad's vision totally goes. If only I could be so lucky.
• Soon after, Mom loses her hearing. Again, totally jealous.
• There's a level of silliness that I definitely couldn't appreciate that day (or maybe ever), but I'm sure if you don't have a giant stick up your ass, this movie is likely a good time (or it's horrible, I'm not even sure at this point). Thumbs up for M. Night for just not giving taking anything too seriously.
• And finally, even if my eyes rolled out of my f--king head at warp speed, at the very least, my heart was quietly soaring throughout. Remember, I was with my sister and my dad for this one, which is an unlikely trio at best.  And as you may also know, my dad is incredibly unhealthy (much worse now then when we saw this), so seeing something together, theatrically, might just be the biggest f--king Yay ever...

Dude looks like Nelly's jacked younger brother...

Booooooooooo!

• Guys, I worked at a hotel for years. If some dude dropped you off and left you to carry all your shit to the beach, we'd pretty much comp your whole stay.
• My sister loved it, but I almost shit in my hand and hurled it over my shoulder when I heard the name Mid-sized Sedan. Just no.
• As much as everyone will eventually freak the f--k out, they handle that initial corpse fairly well (especially for the dreaded people on vacation).
• If you had a drink every time there was expository dialogue you would absolutely die during this f--ker. It's like M. Night knew the audience would have a zillion questions, and for whatever reason, each character basically turns to the camera and answers them all, one at a time. I was half expecting someone to just start reading me a Power Point...
• I guess everyone shops at the same place Bruce Banner does, because no ones clothes rip off when they triple in size in an hour or two.
• I don't care what John Kimble says, that is most definitely a tumor (and it's f--king huge).
• Alright, bring it in for a sec. *whispers* What the f--k was with the baby?
• I was on the swim team. Of course you were, jerk off. Now go please immediately drown yourself, thanks.
• Okay, the Calcium Lady was too much. I know, at that point, all bets were totally off, but it's been months and I still can't wrap my nuts around that f--ker. She basically turned into a murderous Alaskan King Crab and I refuse to believe someone didn't say, you sure about that, Night?
• I wish I could hold my breath for seven-hundred minutes (imagine that's what bothered me? Jeez)
• And finally, I know our boy has painted himself into a corner as the undisputed Master of the Twist Ending, but what the f--k, really? That's how this shit is all tied together. I guess it makes sense, honestly, as all I wanted at the end of the movie was a fist full of pills. Or, at the very least, something experimental injected directly into my eyes.

This was a tough one, I'll be honest. Really made me consider my stance on Shyamalan, you know? I stuck with him after The Village (that reveal had the loudest collective groan I've ever been a part of), survived the high school play that was Devil, somehow was able to look others in the eye after The Happening, and Hell, I even made it through the found-footage nightmare (not in a good way) that was The Visit. 

As I would never have turned my back on poor ol' Dodger no matter how many times he shat about the neighborhood, I also will never, ever not love M. Night. 

Even if the bag is stuffed.