The Biblical book of Revelation once again finds itself as the blueprint for yet another cinematic apocalypse starring Chris Robinson, because we haven’t seen one of those before. In reality, this is a story about Anna Kendrick’s Lindsey, her boyfriend Ben and their families as they watch many of the people they know get raptured to heaven. This leaves the remaining “left behind” populace to deal with new plagues while Chris Robinson’s Antichrist rises to take over the world. We’ve seen this all before, so does Rapture-Palooza bring much to the table? Nope.
Ben’s dad, played Rob Corddry, has made a deal with the Antichrist and takes his son and Kendrick to him after their dreams of a sandwich truck business are (literally) squished by a giant, molten rock from the sky. Robinson takes an immediate liking to Kendrick with dreams of impregnating her repeatedly. Robinson’s Antichrist – “Beast” as he prefers to be called – was once a slimy politician out of Boise. Now he’s a slimy, well, Antichrist, taking control of a mansion in Seattle and planting a large “laser beam” on his yard to deal with shit.
At a mere 85 minutes in length, Rapture-Palooza is sluggish, sustained in large part by rambling jokes that fail to punch, carrying on well beyond their welcome. I suspect, just from my recollection, that a third of the film is just Chris Robinson spitting out various sexual acts he wants to carry out on Kendrick’s face – to her face – which feels odd considering how pleasant and perky she is. Kendrick ultimately serves as the single bright spot of the entire film in her endlessly adorable role as the plucky protagonist. Robinson elicits a few giggles, but he’s simply not enough of a comedian to carry the film as its villain as he’s flanked by secret-service guards and nukes international cities on a whim. The script is a largely missed opportunity, failing to build on the absurdity on-hand, failing to give any of the characters much to work with beyond their half-sentence descriptors: the pothead brother and his pothead friend; the zombie neighbor who won’t stop mowing his yard; Rob Corddry.
With only Kendrick’s squeaky, super-cute demeanor to pull it along, Rapture-Palooza has much to repent for.