This was the most mindless, buoyant fun I’ve enjoyed on celluloid in a long time. This movie works, because it knows what it wants to be, and doesn’t try to be anything otherwise. Contrary to what I had previously assumed, you don’t have to be a fan of the Ramones to enjoy this. Joey Ramone, for most of the film, sports what I am pretty positive is a wicked crotch stain Fergie would be proud of. Oh, and P.J. Soles is the fucking coolest.