Animal House
For such a cult film, I expected more—more chaos, more gross-outs, more laughs. What’s here is a romp with flashes of fun, but it never quite reaches the delirium its reputation suggests.
John Belushi, of course, is the engine—his Bluto a whirlwind of pratfalls, food fights, and anarchic energy. Around him, though, the film feels thin: most characters are sketches built to service gags rather than a story. The result is a patchwork of set pieces. The second act drags, stretching hijinks without escalation.
Still, it’s easy to see why Animal House left its mark. It bottled a spirit of campus rebellion that felt both juvenile and oddly liberating, and it paved the way for countless imitators—though first doesn’t always mean best. Taken on its own, it’s more wry than wild, more shrug than shock: a film that sparked a genre but doesn’t quite blow the roof off anymore.
John Belushi, of course, is the engine—his Bluto a whirlwind of pratfalls, food fights, and anarchic energy. Around him, though, the film feels thin: most characters are sketches built to service gags rather than a story. The result is a patchwork of set pieces. The second act drags, stretching hijinks without escalation.
Still, it’s easy to see why Animal House left its mark. It bottled a spirit of campus rebellion that felt both juvenile and oddly liberating, and it paved the way for countless imitators—though first doesn’t always mean best. Taken on its own, it’s more wry than wild, more shrug than shock: a film that sparked a genre but doesn’t quite blow the roof off anymore.
Mini Review: For such a cult film, I expected more—more chaos, more gross-outs, more laughs. Belushi’s Bluto is a whirlwind of food fights and pratfalls, but around him most characters are sketches, strung through set pieces. The second act drags, the energy sags. Still, it captured something juvenile and liberating about campus rebellion, sparking a genre. However, first doesn’t always mean best.
Watch the Trailer