The Plot:
In order to expose the rampant corruption festering at the center of a certain fast food giant's business plan, documentarian Moron Spermlick decides to eat nothing but Jack's infamous offerings for the next 30 days. It will be a test of physical and mental stamina, but the slightly chubby choad believes he can meet the challenge. After seeking advice from his vet turned doctor, and interviewing several activists who've been on the clown's case for years, our humble human guinea pig begins his experiment. Within days, he's experiencing bloating, cramps, weight gain, nausea, and bowel trouble. After a week, the hormones in the food cause him to develop breasts. Halfway through, Moron is a mess. He suffers from several major diseases and his life is unraveling. Armed with the evidence he needs, he decides to take down Jack and his caustic cuisine once and for all.

The DVD:
Everything you need to know about the supposed satire/spoof Jack Me is contained in the made-up moniker of the film's fictional beer-bellied protagonist - Moron Spermlick. If you laughed at that joke name, getting a infantile jolt out of the single entendre take, you'll probably embrace this uneven experience. If, on the other hand, you believe that something as sophomoric as projectile vomiting, explosive diarrhea, and excessive flatulence drags humor down to base, bottom feeder levels, then you'll despise this dyspeptic little experiment. All propers to writer/director (and star?) Randy Morgan. The dude is definitely trying. Even when he knows he's coming up crabgrass, he still meticulously trims and mows his failing field of dreams. It's not that Jack Me is an atrocity per se. It's just that, in a domain where injokes don't usually translate into universal guffaws, Morgan's muse is so insular it literally implodes. Unless you've seen Super Size Me - or better yet, sympathize with the Spurlock/Moore style of documentary filmmaking - you'll miss the majority of the references. Of course, avoiding anything associated with this movie may be the best plan of action.

Context can make or break comedy, and Jack Me does little to support its satire. While we're supposed to infer that a certain "in a Box" icon is responsible for all the hormone laden treats, the food is mostly made-up junk. Equally unsettling is the breast side-effect subtext. Shifting between serious and slapstick, Morgan makes the surreal choice of sexualizing the ailment, turning it from potentially goofy (in a gross out comedy way) to unsettling and sleazy. Of course, lactation is involved, as is a weird third act mastectomy which causes things to go even more pear-shaped. We are supposed to get some sort of sick thrill out of seeing our star decked out in a set of fake knockers, and yet the rest of the movie barely notices them. Where are the cat calls and unwanted advances? What about the clichéd complaints of nipple tenderness and unnatural swelling? It's clear that Jack Me wants to employ its various elements for their shock value only. Crapping in the middle of the street may have a Jackass like quality to its implied anarchy, but it's all tawdry and no Troma.

Of course, if the film had been rip-roaringly hilarious, an example of filth filtered through, say, a John Waters' way with satire, we could tolerate the frequent tastelessness. But the laughs here are few and far between, resembling the hit and (mostly) miss style of most misguided modern comedies. As for Morgan, he comes across as Larry the Cable Guy's slightly more sophisticated (if less hilarious) brother. One senses he could be a winning onscreen presence with better material and a firmer grasp of how to realize it. In the case of Jack Me, however, the wit is worn out once the title is read, and it goes downhill from there. Unless your mentality remains tuned to those carefree days in 6th grade when the class clown cut farts using his hand and a sweaty armpit, this film will make you groan, not grin. There is nothing inherently wrong with scatology and toilet humor. After all, when a monkey fiddles with and then flings his own crap, someone is bound to giggle. But this failed mockumentary has none of the innate charm a chimp brings to his feces fetish. Instead, it's just stool for stool's sake.

The Video:
Presented to DVD Talk in the ever popular "For Review Only" screener format, the 4x3 image offered is a decent direct from digital video transfer. Certainly, this is an off the cuff quality to the production, lighting and other interior/exterior elements given little or no attention. While there are limited defects like flaring, bleeding, and ghosting, this may not be the final product presentation. Therefore, a firm final score will not be offered.

The Audio:
Again, without a real DVD in hand, it is hard to grade the aural aspects of this film. The dialogue appears to be recorded using the camera's internal mic, yet it's usually clear and easily decipherable. The musical scoring is selective and rather dull, and the flatness of the overall sonic situation leaves little room for mood or atmosphere. Again, their will be no rating for the Dolby Digital Stereo as there is no way to tell if this is how Jack Me will remain, from a tech spec standpoint.

The Extras:
None are offered, therefore, none will be graded.

Final Thoughts:
The difference between a bad movie and an abomination may not be hard to spot, but the distinction between a noble failure and an outright flop is easy to recognize. In the case of Jack Me, Randy Morgan gets points for trying to pry laughs out of what has to be the hardest, most immoveable genre ever - the gotcha investigative documentary. In this case, he doesn't bring the kind of cleverness necessary to pull it off, but it's not a Norbit of Love Guru level of ineptitude. While it really may not deserve it, a score of Rent It will be suggested. After all, there is no real shame in spending a dateless Saturday night with a group of pals, a couple of pony kegs, a bong hit or two and a ridiculously lowbrow comedy. At one point or another, all of us need something unintelligent and retarded to laugh it. Luckily, Jack Me doesn't aim very high. As long as you keep your expectations subterranean, you'll probably find a reason or two to smile. Anything above that could be deadly, however.

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