Sometimes you hear the title of a movie and think, “Wow, that sounds ridiculous, I have to watch it.” Then you actually do, and realize you’ve been punished for your curiosity. That’s Evil Bong, a 2006 “stoner horror comedy” from Charles Band, a man whose entire career seems like a dare to see how many films he can produce with twenty bucks, a warehouse, and a box of rubber masks.
Yes, the movie is about a bong. A bong that kills people. A bong that traps souls in a supernatural strip club. A bong with an actual face. And no, I’m not exaggerating—this is the real plot. Evil Bong makes Sharknado look like Citizen Kane.
The Premise: Reefer Badness
The movie begins with nerdy college student Alistair moving in with three roommates: Larnell (stoner), Bachman (surfer stoner), and Brett (jock stoner). If this sounds like a cartoon cast list, that’s because it is. They have the depth of cardboard cutouts but without the charm.
Larnell buys a bong online that is advertised as “possessed.” Because naturally, if Craigslist offers you a haunted drug accessory, you don’t call the police—you enter your debit card. Soon, they’re smoking from it, one by one being pulled into the “Bong World,” which is basically the inside of a Spencer’s Gifts mixed with the world’s saddest strip club.
And that’s the entire plot. Smoke, die, repeat. Imagine Groundhog Day if Bill Murray were replaced by a tacky bong puppet that sounded like your chain-smoking aunt.
The Villain: Eebee the Bong
The titular bong, Eebee, is voiced by Michele Mais, who sounds like she recorded her lines after six martinis and a pack of Newports. Eebee’s “evil plan” is to trap souls in her Bong World and eventually turn Earth into one giant hotbox, which… honestly, doesn’t sound that bad compared to sitting through this movie.
The “Bong World” is her big gimmick. Every time someone tokes up, they wake up in a low-budget strip club where strippers kill them with gimmick bras—skull bras that bite your neck, lip bras that bite off genitals, etc. It’s like Showgirlscrossed with Goosebumps. The scariest part is that this strip club clearly had a budget of $75 and a six-pack of Pabst.
The Deaths: Puff, Puff, Pass Out
The kills in this movie aren’t scary, inventive, or even fun—they’re just sad.
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Bachman: Dies after being seduced by a stripper with a biting bra. It’s less “terrifying” and more “VH1 special gone wrong.”
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Larnell: Also seduced, also dead. The bong mocks him. You will not care.
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Brett: Castrated by his ex-girlfriend in the Bong World. Somewhere, Freud is nodding approvingly.
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Random Others: Show up, smoke, die. The cycle continues until you, the viewer, feel like you’re the real victim.
These aren’t kills—they’re skits. And not even Saturday Night Live skits. More like “stoned college improv troupe that got kicked out of the student union.”
The Characters: Half-Baked
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Alistair: The token nerd, included so we can have one guy who says things like “I don’t think we should be smoking this” while everyone ignores him. Spoiler: he’s right.
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Larnell: The main stoner, who thinks buying a haunted bong is quirky instead of idiotic.
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Bachman: A surfer stereotype so flat you could iron your shirt on him.
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Brett: The jock who hates nerds but somehow hangs out with one.
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Janet: Alistair’s love interest. Her job is to scream and look concerned.
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Tommy Chong (Jimbo Leary): The only actor who knows exactly what kind of trash he’s in. He shows up with a bomb strapped to his chest, tries to blow up the bong, and fails. He’s supposed to be the highlight, but mostly he looks tired and in need of an actual joint.
Everyone else? Fodder for the bong.
The Humor: Down to the Resin
The film is billed as a “horror comedy.” Except the comedy is mostly weed jokes recycled from That 70s Show and the horror is… well, nonexistent. Instead of laughing, you sit there wondering if you’ve ever actually enjoyed a movie in your life or if cinema has always been this bleak.
The bong makes quips, the stoners giggle, and the audience sighs. It’s like listening to your drunk uncle tell the same joke about Doritos for the tenth time.
The Bong World: Straight to DVD Hell
Every time someone enters the Bong World, you hope maybe, just maybe, it’ll be different. But no—it’s always the same sad strip club with a handful of extras awkwardly dancing while Charles Band desperately waves his Full Moon props around. Look! It’s the Gingerdead Man! Look! It’s Ooga Booga! Look! It’s your will to live leaving your body!
The Bong World is supposed to be a trippy, surreal nightmare. Instead, it looks like a cutscene from a rejected Mortal Kombat game.
The Cameos: Even They Look Embarrassed
Tommy Chong is the big cameo, and even he can’t save this mess. He tries to inject energy, but it’s clear he’s here for the paycheck and maybe a free lunch. Bill Moseley shows up for about ten seconds, presumably filmed between coffee breaks. Brandi Cunningham from Rock of Love wanders through like she got lost on the way to a reality show audition.
The cameos aren’t fun Easter eggs—they’re more like flies buzzing around an already rotting casserole.
The Problems:
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Repetition: Every kill is the same: smoke, strippers, death. Watching Evil Bong feels like watching a looped YouTube video titled “stoners die in bad strip club.”
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Tone: It’s not funny enough to be comedy, not scary enough to be horror, and not stoned enough to be cult stoner gold.
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Budget: You can practically see the duct tape holding the sets together. The Evil Bong puppet looks like it was made by an arts-and-crafts student on Ambien.
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Acting: Most of the cast looks like they were paid in weed and exposure. Spoiler: it shows.
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Pacing: Ninety minutes never felt longer. You’ll beg for the sweet release of death by skull bra just to make it end.
The Ending: Bang, Bong, Bust
The finale has Tommy Chong strapping a bomb to his chest to blow up the bong. This sounds epic. It isn’t. Instead, it plays like a high school play where the prop department ran out of ideas. The bong “dies,” everyone comes back to life, and Jimbo becomes the “king” of the Bong World, which is the saddest title ever bestowed on a human being.
The credits roll, and you sit there, empty inside, wondering how this got not just sequels but an entire franchise. Yes—people kept making these. Charles Band saw Evil Bong and said, “Yes, this is my magnum opus. Let’s make Evil Bong 2: King Bong. And Evil Bong 3D: The Wrath of Bong. And more.” Humanity is doomed.
Final Thoughts: A Bad Trip
Evil Bong is not scary, not funny, and not entertaining. It’s the cinematic equivalent of ditch weed: harsh, unpleasant, and guaranteed to give you a headache. If you’re sober, you’ll hate it. If you’re high, you’ll hate it faster.
If you want stoner horror done right, watch Idle Hands. If you want stoner comedy, watch Half-Baked. If you want both, take an edible and nap. Anything is better than this.
