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By Phil Hall | April 30, 2002

“Nitwit” is incoherent puerility. In the course of its 100 minute life, this sorry production offers a skein of vomiting, eye-rolling, simulated sex, people screaming in amateurish Southern accents, panting, kicking, snarling, whining and a tiny space ship floating about to music meant to call up Doctor Who. Pity no one called up Doctor Kevorkian instead. If there is a plot or a meaning to any of this, it never makes its presence known.
Xan Price is the individual responsible for this waste. His visual inspirations seem to be the early shock films of John Waters and David Lynch, but he is painfully lacking of the former’s subversive wit and the latter’s artistic eccentricity. Unable to tell the difference between vulgarity and humor, Price serves up an obnoxious buffet meant to jolt the senses with excessive behavior and crude sequences. The result, however, is the complete opposite of building a jolt: instead, this is one of the most numbing experiences imaginable.

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