This is, in a way, a difficult movie to analyze, not due to complexity but lack thereof—inspiring little, if any, critical thought. It’s a conglomeration of only bits and pieces of other movies, and not an entire story in its own right—possessing slightly more continuity from scene to scene over its predecessors. Also, how do you know when the melodramatic acting and decidedly silly dialogue is actually bad craftsmanship showing through and not part of the parody? After all, the film spoofs movies like “Saw,” “War of the Worlds,” “The Village,” “The Grudge,” and others.

The movie certainly aims for intelligent humor—mildly, anyway. The story is self-aware enough to observe, just as Roger Ebert did (in his review of “Undead” while referencing Spielberg’s “War of the Worlds”), that the solution to every automotive malfunction involves a solenoid. Too bad so few seemed to get it when one extra observed, in stormy neighborhood scenes, no one ever owns a dryer. Does exposition need to get much more obvious than delivering that line at the exact moment shirts and slacks prominently flap around on clotheslines? Obviously someone on the production thought to play it safe, assuming that audiences prefer a dumbed-down movie that takes them for fools than an intelligent film that proves they are. Thus, the film quickly abandons biting sarcasm in favor of gumming you to a sloppy, slow death.

“Scary Movie 4″ regurgitates a maddeningly simple formula. The story is pastiche of the aforementioned films and features Tom Ryan (Craig Bierko) offering a connecting role between the mashed-up plots. Ryan is a clone of Tom Cruise, whose overexposure in the media as of late has unquestionably been screaming for mockery.

In addition to a few new faces, Anna Faris reprises her role as Cindy Campbell, in reference to Sidney from the “Scream” trilogy—herself a semi-intentional roast of the strong yet hysterically-panicked scream queen characters played by Jamie Lee Curtis and Heather Langenkamp in “Halloween” and “A Nightmare on Elm Street,” respectively.

Campbell, looking for work, finds an agency hiring in-home care for an incapacitated elderly woman, Mrs. Norris (Cloris Leachman). In reference to “The Grudge,” a remake of the Japanese film “Ju-On,” the house is apparently haunted by a young boy who screams like a cat. Tom Ryan works at the docks and falls asleep on the job (only to be wide awake the second the whistle blows), and incidentally lives next door to Cindy. Thus, storylines collide, in keeping with the formula of the previous “Scary Movie” films.

I should perhaps note for those who haven’t seen all previous installments that the first two movies were made by Keenen Ivory, Shawn and Marlon Wayans. For one reason or another (most probably their complete lack of comedic creativity), the Wayans brothers were replaced by David Zucker, director, and writer Craig Mazin in “Scary Movie 3,” who have both returned for the fourth installment. That’s not much of an improvement and the film still hasn’t risen far above its predecessors in its rote recitation of cheap gross-out jokes—the worst involving a blind character (Carmen Electra) playing the “pretty woman doing something disgusting” gag precisely in the place and time we expect it to happen. It’s almost unfortunate that audiences still erupt in laughter at this exhaustively recycled joke, and yet fail to see the inherent hilarity of the otherwise distinguished James Earl Jones merely showing up in the last moments of the film for a rather unexpected outcome—one I won’t spoil as it’s the funniest thing about the entire movie.

The film cycles dutifully through numerous pop culture references including a seemingly obligatory flogging of the now certainly dead horse of “Brokeback Mountain.” What’s of greater interest to me, however, is the phenomenon of films such as this which can be traced back to “Airplane!” and were revisited later in the “Hot Shots” and “Naked Gun” films. Not coincidentally, the stars of the latter two, Charlie Sheen and Leslie Nielsen, make cameo appearances in this movie. There’s something odd about the popularity of movies that lampoon popular culture. It’s as if audiences are inviting themselves to be ridiculed for their own predilections.

Movies like this attempt comedy, but they consistently fall short for a reason. Consider the take on “The Village.” So much had M. Night Shyamalan’s reputation (and ego) been inflated by his success with his third film, “The Sixth Sense,” and the critical praise for “Unbreakable” which didn’t score well with audiences. His story about puritanical exiles straight from the dreadfully-boring “Witness” demonstrated a gross overconfidence in an otherwise banal story—equally languid in execution—the entire mass of which (as this film observes) hinges on only one dramatic element: a surprise that is irritatingly obvious from nearly the beginning. These spoof films, their writers and directors, fail to recognize the real subject of their humor is inherently funnier than the attempt to satirize it.