Thick-skinned gore-hounds looking to have a bit of a laugh with a six pack and some friends may find plenty to chuckle about while watching Razor Blade Smile director Jake West's hyper-violent comedy shocker, but fans of the genre and Peter Jackson's early work in particular may walk away feeling that there is simply too much borrowed from better films to make Evil Aliens feel like anything worth crowing about. Opening with an alien abduction and a violent anal probe performed with what appears to be Black and Decker drill outfitted with leftover props from David Cronenberg's Dead Ringers, Evil Aliens subsequently pulls back to detail the introduce the tabloid television reporter who, along with a ragtag crew and a pair of flaky actors, sets out to cover the story that promises to save her flashy fortean program from cancellation. Upon arriving at the remote scene of the crime, the entire group is instantaneously flanked by a gang of murderous extraterrestrials intent on violently disposing with anyone who dare meddle in their deviant interstellar experiments. While the action flows fast and fluid, the tone is gleefully over-the-top, and the blood flies by the bucketful, anyone not viewing Evil Aliens during a crowded midnight screening will likely find that the humor in the film just isn't as effective as it was in such landmark bloodbaths as Re-Animator, Evil Dead II, or Dead Alive, and without a talented writer to rely on the humor simply becomes too uneven to sustain the film's manic tone. While undemanding newcomers will likely be blown away by the sheer audacity of it all, those who have seen it done better are likely to find themselves groaning through the flatline jokes while picking out the countless references to the superior efforts that inspired Evil Aliens. It's simply hard to lose yourself in the proceedings when the constant barrage of recycled jokes begins to overwhelm any true sense of originality. Combine that with the fact that West's menacing extraterrestrial invaders look like low-rent stunt-men in dime store Predator costumes and the stink of second-hand material simply becomes too overwhelming to bear. Of course that's not to say that West and company don't get points for style, and with gonzo fight sequences that are executed energetically enough to occasionally transcend the film's monstrously derivative shortcomings many viewers will no-doubt find cause to be somewhat forgiving. When the credits finally role following the one inspired joke that serves to bring the film full circle, the audience is likely to be split between two camps: on one side the viewer whose punch-drunk inner fifteen year-old allows them to walk away with a sly giggle - and on the other the more demanding gore-hound whose cynical sigh signals there is still some time to come before the next true splatstick classic drenches the screen with sticky-sweet plasma.