In theaters

SCARY MOVIE 4, directed by David Zucker, written by Craig Mazin, Jim Abrahams and Pat Proft, 83 minutes, rated PG-13.

The latest foray in the “Scary Movie” franchise, “Scary Movie 4,” is splintered piffle that goes nowhere. It starts off on a bad foot – literally – and then hobbles toward an ending that suggests the series hasn’t just run its course, it has exhausted it. Laughs are not entirely absent here, but old ideas and laziness plague it, cutting it down from the high perch its brand once enjoyed.

This time out, what’s scary is how boring and unimaginative the series has become. The strength of the “Scary Movie” films always has been in their opening riffs on the latest horror movie craze, which in this case means the sadomasochistic bloodletting of such films as “Saw,” “Saw II” and “Hostel.” While the two previous “Scary” sequels were uneven at best, at least they delivered the goods at the start. “Scary Movie 4” doesn’t, and that’s a disappointment.

It begins with a takeoff on the “Saw” movies, with Dr. Phil and Shaquille O’Neal playing themselves in ways that will benefit neither of their careers.

In a moldering men’s room that will be familiar to horror fans, they are chained at the ankles thanks to the handiwork of the serial killer Jigsaw. Before poisonous gas consumes them, the only way out of their unhappy situation appears to be by sawing off the lower halves of their legs.

What ensues isn’t the spoof you expect, but a movie that confuses reference for wit, as if our recognition of what is being lampooned is enough. It isn’t. The film, which also churns elements of “The Village,” Spielberg’s “War of the Worlds,” “Brokeback Mountain,” “The Grudge” and “Million Dollar Baby” into its plot, is filled with the sort of lame pratfalls in which people repeatedly are slapped, punched, knocked down, or knocked out. It’s as if a third-rate opening act for the Three Stooges is running the show – from the grave – and we’re the ones left with pie in our face.

What’s curious about “Scary Movie 4” is that it missed its broad target – right now, pop culture is a candy store ripe for skewering. Having a Michael Jackson impersonator show up and pander to children isn’t clever or funny – it’s just anemic, like the man’s career. As for Tom Cruise, a version of whom is played here by Craig Bierko, the whipping he gets by Zucker might as well be by a feather; it’s timid, toothless fluff.

Watching the film, some might long for the comic genius of Mel Brooks or Mel Blanc, or wish that Zucker had recaptured the zaniness of his comic greats, “Airplane!” and “Naked Gun.” In one scene involving Leslie Nielsen, he does come close. But coming close for Zucker can only ever be a letdown. When you’re as gifted as he is, it feels like a cheat.

Grade: D+

On video and DVD

MEMOIRS OF A GEISHA,

Directed by Rob Marshall, written by Robin Swicord, 137 minutes, rated PG-13.

On one level, Rob Marshall’s “Memoirs of a Geisha” isn’t so far removed from his Academy Award-winning 2002 film, “Chicago.” Each is extravagantly produced, each is beautiful to look at, each features a storyline that courts its share of drama. And yet there is a crucial difference between them that Marshall either overlooked or ignored on his way to directing his sophomore effort.

“Chicago” is intended to be a spectacle. It’s meant to be robustly American.

Watching “Geisha,” a rather different story about Japanese girls sold on the open market, enslaved for work and sex, and then humiliated when their virginity is sold to the highest bidder (provided there is one), you have to wonder how a similar sensibility works for this movie. It depends on what brings you to it.

If you’re only interested in pretty painted faces and Academy Award-winning kimonos, or the tense intrigue, savage gameplay and tug of romance you might find in a novel by, say, Jackie Collins by way of James Clavell, then the style suits this movie well. But if you know something about the geisha, whose illusion of serene beauty belied a difficult life beyond which most could comprehend, one could argue that a more restrained approach would have been more effective, with the melodramatic moments pared to a minimum in favor of allowing room for depth and subtlety.

Taken for what it is – soap opera, nothing more – the movie can be entertaining. For instance, when the main character, a geisha-in-training named Sayuri (Ziyi Zhang), finally rises up against her hateful nemesis geisha Hatsumomo (Gong Li) – a teahouse tramp who has been trying to undo Sayuri for years, ever since she was a child dropped at the okiya – the hair pulling, shrieking and shoving that ensues zips with energy.

Sending the film farther over the moon is Mother (Kaori Momoi), who bought Sayuri from her destitute parents when Sayuri was still a child named Chiyo, and who can do things with a pipe that border on the obscene. And there’s Pumpkin (Zoe Weizenbaum in youth, Youki Kudoh as an adult), Sayuri’s one-time friend, who becomes so colorful as she ages, she could decorate a Blue Hawaii better than any old paper umbrella.

Grounding the movie is Sayuri’s love interest, Chairman (Ken Watanabe), and Sayuri’s geisha trainer, Mameha, who is played with reserve and grace by the Chinese actress Michelle Yeoh. Even when she must talk to Sayuri in sexual metaphors about eels finding their way into caves, she does it with tact, gleaning over the dialogue without a trace of humor.

Grade: C+

Visit www.weekinrewind.com, the archive of Bangor Daily News film critic Christopher Smith’s reviews, which appear Mondays in Discovering, Fridays in Happening, and Weekends in Television. He may be reached at Christopher@weekinrewind.com.