Few films hold the same echelon of ironic bliss that fully encompasses “Dreamcatcher” (Warner). How deliciously inventive is it to have the alien monster that nearly kills everyone in the film originate from the bowels of the human it feeds upon? I find it hard to imagine that if you looked in your stool after a visit from Mr. Brown and his kids, you wouldn’t find much difference between that and this film.

For starters, there are countless phallic and anal references in this movie. This includes everything from talk about erections, the unfunny moments of flatulence and the fact that not only does the monster come from one’s anus, but it looks like a slippery piece of crap. It’s a 14-year-old’s iconic dream — and a two-hour-and-15 minute commercial for www. moviepoopshoot.com.

“Dreamcatcher” is about four friends who retreat to a Maine cabin for their annual hunting trip. All of them are having problems with their personal lives: Henry (Thomas Jane) is on the verge of suicide, Jonesy (Damian Lewis) has been coping with a recent injury, Beaver (Jason Lee) is suffering from lack of a love life and Pete (Timothy Olyphant) is dangerously approaching alcoholism.

They have the ability to communicate with each other telepathically. This is a phenomenon they have had since performing a heroic task for a mentally challenged boy named Duddits. They are able to read others’ minds and are able to see things before they happen. This single aspect is important to the story, but the rest doesn’t really matter. We soon find out that the problems of the main characters or what they did as youngsters was never relevant.

After about a half-hour we’re introduced to Rick — a wandering hunter who says he’s been lost for a day. Rick is acting quite strange — his chest and stomach are swelling, and let’s just say he’s making a stink of things. Beaver and Jonesy take care of him, but are alarmed when they find Rick squatting on the toilet, dead. There’s still something alive in the bathroom.

I wish it was a conceivable plot.

The construction of “Dreamcatcher” is awkward and problematic. The film is so sloppily produced that I wonder if there ever was a structure to begin with. The movie borrows heavily from other monster films, especially “Alien” — a film that has been copied 20 times over anyhow. “Alien” is not only borrowed from, but key elements are directly stolen from it.

Morgan Freeman is absolutely wasted as crazy military specialist Col. Abraham Curtis, who plans to liquidate the quarantined Americans who have been exposed to the hideous monsters.

The special effects of this film reflect what you’d see in a cheesy sci-fi 1950s B-movie.

The monsters are not scary or terrifying at all, and in direct contradiction, they’re really funny to look at. The mother alien looks like the star child at the end of “2001: A Space Odyssey” where the eel-like ‘Ripley’ alien looks like … well, shit.

The only redeemable thing “Dreamcatcher” has is its ability to keep an active viewer. I will admit that I was engaged by its premise, but that doesn’t say much.

“Dreamcatcher” reminds me of “Showgirls,” in that it keeps my attention by watching just how ridiculous it is going to get. This is an unsettling feeling — unlike “Showgirls,” “Dreamcatcher” actually starts off well. Considering the immense talent involved, the execution of the film resembles what it would look like to watch a massive train wreck.

“Dreamcatcher” is the quintessential bad film, an implementation of mainstream trash that fits the current Hollywood standard, which strives to reach the audience of video gamers with the attention spans of paramecia. “Dreamcatcher” is evidence that 2003 has thus far been a contest of how low the industry can sink into the epitome of awful filmmaking.