There are movies that are bad and then there are movies so bad they are mindblowing. Don't Go Near the Park is a perfect fit in the latter category. The script manages to be overstuffed and underbaked all at once; it spends so much time a plot that so convoluted and perverse that it forgets to leave room for believable characterizations or convincing dialogue. The story's strange mixture of ineptitude and overambition is cemented by the technique offered on both sides of the camera. The performances are uniformly hammy in the worst amateur-thespian style (except for a visibly hung-over Aldo Ray) and director Lawrence D. Foldes's style is high on enthusiasm but very low on cinematic technique. Thus, Don't Go Near the Park is a total washout for the average viewer but anyone fascinated by low-budget dementia might appreciate the film's overwhelming weirdness. The strange sights contained in its running time include cavemen wearing joke-store caveman outfits, a van that explodes with the intensity of a thousand suns, and a twist ending that will leave most viewers breathless with laughter. It can safely be said there's no other film quite like Don't Go Near the Park.