Saturday Night Cleaver Electric Boogaloos the Hell out of an already ridiculous franchise, shifting further from the simple, revenge-driven storyline of the original towards central plots which include Mr. Gingerdead as only a part-time player, skirting round the side-lines while spouting sub-Freddy Krueger one-liners and occasionally hacking even lesser characters to pieces. In this film, the Edible One spends less time as a serial killer and more as a voyeuristic sex maniac. After a parody of Silence Of The Lambs from the Friedberg/Seltzer school of spoofing movies, i.e. copy scenes near word-for-word, change a few names slightly and throw in lame jokes, and what follows is a roller disco in which, for reasons unfathomable, the Doughy Deadman choses to initiate a killing spree. I guess it's because he's evil and the participants make easy fodder, but he has no genuine reason to be there, and somehow manages to slip around unnoticed, despite often being in plain view and shouting every word. The characters are forgettable, the writing is terrible, the central concept uninteresting and the effects, while improved from the first outing, are still pathetically amateurish. Even in a series of films about a sentient confectionary, Saturday Night Cleaver distinguishes itself as being especially flavourless.