I recently taught my seven-year-old nephew how to fill in a Mad Lib. At first he didn’t really get it. “Ok, pick a noun,” he said, his pencil poised. “Underwear,” I said. “No, a different noun,” he answered. “No, my noun is ‘underwear,’ you have to write it down,” I said. “But that doesn’t make any sense in the sentence,” he persisted. I then went on to explain to him that that’s actually the whole point, and that the random choices are what make for a hilarious read in the end. Little did I know how fitting it would be that later that night, I’d be watching Fantasy Island, a film as senseless as a Mad Lib, whose random plot points result in as ridiculous a story and cause just as much laughter—but unfortunately as a horror film, with none of the enjoyment along the way.
Fantasy Island opens as a handful of people arrive on
a plane (noun) at a tropical (adjective) island paradise. The protagonists had each just won a contest (pointless scene-setting tool) that grants them the chance to experience their ultimate fantasy. The island’s host, Mr. Roarke (fictional character from the original successful 70s television series), played by Michael Peña (actor usually typecast as a sidekick who is an odd pick 
for a lead originally played by a man once described as “the epitome of Latin elegance,” the dashing Ricardo Montalbàn), seems to know more than he is letting on about both the island and its guests.
Each character (necessary element of any successful film but shockingly formulaic in this one) is required to see their fantasy through to its natural (adjective Mr. Roarke uses that quickly loses all meaning as each fantasy’s plot unfolds) conclusion, which ends up being a lot more dangerous than it sounds. Add in a backstory involving curious (adjective that 
suggests purpose and intent without offering clarity or explanation) magic, a few surprise guests (plot devices used by desperate writers struggling to maintain interest and purpose in a storyline), and some original television series throwbacks (plot devices used by desperate writers struggling to maintain interest and purpose in a storyline, different from above), and the film limps on through multiple twists (plot devices used by desperate writers struggling to maintain interest and purpose in a storyline, different from both above) to its ultimate conclusion.
See? Wasn’t that fun?
Unfortunately, director Jeff Wadlow was so undeterred by the abominable 16% his 2018 film Truth or Dare received on Rotten Tomatoes, that he not only decided to direct another horror film, but he again cast Lucy Hale as a key protagonist. It’s like he wanted to tie together the two terrible films into an ugly little bow. And it’s too bad for Lucy that switching from a black bob haircut to a blonde one won’t undo that knot—this film is just as bad as Wadlow’s first major horror attempt. Next time Lucy, I recommend sending a polite decline.
Beyond triggering bad memories of another terrible movie, Fantasy Island also suffers 
from characters with the emotional depth of tidepools, an ultimate reveal that boasts as much purpose as a frilly umbrella in a tropical cocktail, scares that terrify as much as a soft breeze floating between palm trees, and a plot that meanders as sporadically as a crab scuttling along on a beach. The only semi-enjoyable aspects of this film were the shots of the setting—white sands, lush mountains, and crystal-blue waters—but it’s probably not a good sign that the highlights of the film make the viewer want to escape.
SpecialK Verdict: Reading the Mad Lib embedded within this review? Worth it. Seeing this film? Not.
Fantasy Island opened nationwide on Friday, February 14.
Never miss a review — sign up for email updates to the right, follow us on Twitter, or like The Parsing Haus on Facebook!