UNCLE DON’S VIEWS OF NIL REPUTE:

A nice sunny day, football on the wide screen, ambidextrous me, remote in one hand, 12-ounce curls in the other and what am I doing instead?

Observing other sick puppies in this here theater. There I sat, watching and waiting for the start of the latest installment of the “Saw” series.

Previously I’d visited Fandango to bust out a ticket and holy moly, $11.25! That’s an hour of OT!

Since stupidity loves company I went scrounging for a friend or two to drag along, but them ankle bracelets sure cause problems. Gonna have to face “Saw V” alone, I thought.

Traveling incognito, I thought I’d disguise myself as I’d done before, as an editor, but the ticket taker said if I was going to look and act like that, I’d have to remain in restraints. Sedated. Again.

The “Saw” series should be familiar to anyone sorry enough to intentionally read this column. But if you’ve blundered here unwittingly, “Saw” is kind of like “The Cell” or “Home Alone,” maybe a tad less violent.

Since we’re now up to iteration four, (it would be four instead of five wouldn’t it, because the first one wouldn’t be an iteration, would it? Dang, I’m thinking too much.) It’s deja puke all over again. Yeah, I used that déjà puke line in the review of “Saw III,” but, come on, how much original thought am I supposed to put into this column?

Bodies are sliced like deli bologna, and jelloed like that jiggly stuff your mom used to put pineapple in. Mozzarella doesn’t come as shredded as some of our victims. Nails, table saws, locks, chains and whatever could be shoplifted from Home Depot appear to populate the sets, which appear to be inspired by “Plan 9 from Outer Space.”

Apparently the bad guy, Jigsaw, has been dead for a few episodes, but why let a minor complication like that interrupt a movie more disjointed than a centipede that’s been crackback blocked.

The ersatz Mellotron soundtrack is little more than a Moody Blues record spun backward. And the screenplay makes less sense than that change in my pocket I got out of the cup next to the blind guy when he wasn’t looking.

The protagonist, Jigsaw, is the ungodly metamorphosis of an aging Dirty Harry and a semi-coherent Rev. Jim (Taxi). He’s enabled by a Michael Corleone-ish bad cop, and all are being chased by your generic assortment of the good, the bad and the insipid.

Meanwhile we’re stuck with Jigsaw spouting more aphorisms and adages than would be found in the latest edition of Bartlett’s. Guy’s as long-winded as a Santa Ana and doesn’t seem to realize that with his incessant luded-out proselytizing I’d happily perform cochlea surgery on my ears with a dull Ginzu knife than listen to him.

Meanwhile “Saw V” is your schlep-of-the-mill chase flick. There’s a bad guy. Chased by a good guy. Turns into a bad guy. Chased by a good guy. Suspected of being a bad guy. Misunderstood by the other good guys.

But hey, we’ve got the climactic ending. After some bland-to-bland combat, the bad guy escapes. The good guy, trapped in a room with the walls closing in (apparently a sort of metaphor, or simile, or parable or some such $5 word that doesn’t belong in this two-bit column) ends up as flat as year-old road kill.

Friends don’t let friends see “Saw V.”

UNCLE DON reviews B-rated movies and cheesy musical acts for the Daily Pilot. He can be reached by e-mail at reallybadwriting@yahoo.com.