The Screengrab : mystery science theater 3000

That Guy! Joe Don Baker

Phil Nugent — Fri, 29 May 2009 15:00:00 GMT

It's possible that Joe Don Baker's name is as well known as his face, which sort of goes against the grain of those featured in the "That Guy!" franchise. However, one reason the name is well-known is that, in the last several years, it's picked up some currency as a punch line. Any name that starts out "Joe Don" and keeps going for another couple of syllables is apt to strike some people as that of a thuggish redneck hick, and that's how Baker was caricatured by the wisecracking robots of Mystery Science Theater 3000 when they ran a couple of his tackier starring vehicles in the 1990s. Is it out of deference to the fine tastes and sensibilities of the robot critical community that Joe Don has yet to appear on Inside the Actors Studio? This is one thing that sets him apart from, say, Billy Joel and Ricky Gervais. Another is that Joe Don actually attended the Actors Studio.

There is always cause to be wary whenever a white male claims to have suffered from discrimination based on his physical appearance. Usually there is cause to be openly derisive. Still, back in the 1980s, Joe Don Baker told an interviewer that it was very hard for him to get Hollywood to see him as anything other than a violent cracker with a pea-sized brain, and he told the interviewer this in response to a question about why he had taken to spending so much of his time working in England. Put that in your pipe and smoke it. In the '60s, Baker appeared in movies and on TV, in Westerns (Guns of the Magnificent Seven, Wild Rovers) and working-guy parts (Adam at 6 A.M.). He got a boost from the 1971 TV film Mongo's Back in Town, which served notice that he could bring a compelling degree of sensitivity to a tough-guy part, and also served notice that he might have to spend a certain amount of his career playing guys with names like "Mongo." He got a bigger boost the next year, playing Steve McQueen's brother in Sam Peckinpah's Junior Bonner, although he would later assure interviewers that he and Peckinpah were not the best thing that had ever happpened in each other's lives.

The success of his next film, Walking Tall, made him a star of a specialized, B-movie sort, and led to him taking pre-emptive measures against all many of unsavory types in a string of films, including Phil Karlson's Framed and the notorious Mitchell. His fling as a leading man burned out with the TV film To Kill a Cop and the short-lived TV series spun off from it, Eischied. After that, he settled into the familiar That Guy! routine of long patches of honest labor with the occasional stretch of lying in clover. He played a fictionalized Jimmy Hoffa in the TV film Power (1980), threatened Chevy Chase in Fletch, jousted with James Bond in License to Kill, got throttled by De Niro while attempting to enjoy a midnight snack in Cape Fear, had a high old time playing Joseph McCarthy to James Woods's Roy Cohn in Citizen Kane, stood viciously accused of being Winona Ryder's father in Reality Bites, did the dirty work for the man in Panther, took seeing his son get killed by evil white gorillas really well in Congo, kissed and made up with James Bond in Goldeneye and Tomorrow Never Dies, and showed, in Tim Burton's Mars Attacks!, that he could make fun of his trailer-park image as well as any robot. For TV, he played Governor "Kissin' Jim" Folsom in the biopic George Wallace and buckskinned superlawyer Gerry Spence in The Siege of Ruby Ridge.

Where to see Joe Don Baker at his best:

WALKING TALL & CHARLEY VARRICK (1973)

Like it or not, the role of Buford Pusser, scary Tennessee lawman extraordinaire, will always be the first thing that leaps to most people's minds when Baker's name comes up. There are reasons enough to like that fine: Baker gives a strong star performance that endows the club-swinging sheriff considerable dignity. Like Dirty Harry, Pusser has to be portrayed as self-righteous, but Baker also gives him a quality that would be unthinkable in an Eastwood character: a longing for a peaceful life, a desire to just settle down and raise his family and tend to his own back yard, which the villains, by the sheer spreading force of their wickedness, have made an untenable option. (The movie opens with Buford bringing his wife and kids back to their country home, presumably to escape the corruption of the cities. If someone doesn't step up, the small-town corruption may make the country culture just as dangerous and unlivable.) Walking Tall is a primitive, pro-head-cracking movie, but Baker gives it its human dimension: he's the hero partly because he suffers for his actions, never because he happens to be the one who looks coolest when blowing people's heads off.

Even in the wake of the film's success, there were signs that Baker might not be looking to retire from acting and get into the more profitable business of Charles Bronson imitations. One was that he followed up Walking Tall with the supporting role of the Mafis enforcer Molly in Don Siegel's The title character is played by Walter Matthau; he's a bank robber who has chosen his bank recklessly and wound up with several hundred thousand dollars that Molly's employers very much want back. Baker swaggers through the role with a vast grin on his face, as if he never quite got over the kick of seeing his character's name in the script. The film is one of those twist-upon-twist capers in which the omniscient hero is always at least a couple of steps ahead of everyone else, which could easily become tiresome. It benefits greatly from Baker's way of making it clear that, as far as he's concerned, Molly is very much the undefeatable star of the movie playing out in his head. His confidence almost makes you think that he might just turn out to hold the winning hand after all, whereas the glee with which he looks forward to indulging in his full capacity for sadism when he dispatches the hero makes you glad that he doesn't.

THE NATURAL (1984)

In the early '80s, Baker had dropped far enough off the radar screen that his cameo here as "the Whammer"--i.e., Babe Ruth--amounted to a juicy comeback. The movie is a travesty of Bernard Malamud's baseball novel, but Baker does full justice to his end of it: he tears into the role of parodying the Babe as if he were playing a contemporary figure who had seized control of the globe's supply of penicillin. He gives the Whammer a magnified version of Molly's gloating self-satisfaction in what a hot shit he thinks he is, and some of Molly's sadism, too: engaging the green kid Roy Hobbs in a contest, batter versus pitcher, in order to impress a mystery woman (Barbara Hershey), he sums Hobbs up, wrongly, as an innocent hick, and still licks his chops at the prospect of humiliating him. Yet you can't help rooting, or at least feeling for him a little. He lives up to the descriptions of Babe Ruth as the ultimate Jazz Age celebrity, a one-man parade through Times Square.

EDGE OF DARKNESS (1985)

This six-hour British TV miniseries is the proudest accomplishment of Baker's time across the pond. It was directed by Martin Campbell, who later made Goldeneye, as well as the Daniel Craig Casino Royale and the Antonio Banderas Zorro pictures, and who is now readying a big-screen remake of Edge of Darkness with Mel Gibson and Ray Winstone. For the love of God, try and get your hands on the original so that when you see the remake, you can better appreciate all the ways in which they're certain to fuck it up. The TV series is a Thatcher-era paranoid thriller about the dangers of nuclear proliferation. The late Bob Peck plays a Yorkshire police detective who witnesses the murder of his daughter (Joanne Whalley), which he and his colleagues assume must have been a botched attempt on his own life; it turns out that she was active in anti-nuclear politics and involved in what the government considered to be terrorist activities.

Baker enters the picture playing Darius Jedburgh, a CIA agent stationed in the country who is aware of some sort of skulduggery that might be connected to the daughter's murder. Baker, who took a cut in his usual salary for the chance to be a part of this, took full advantage of the opportunities that acting in a miniseries can provide for fleshing out the odd little corners of a character's range of personality. The memory of his big climactic moments, bawling out the assembled guests at a NATO conference while disintegrating from radiation poisoning and brandishing a pair of plutonium bars, stays fresh in the mind, but so does the image of him sitting in front of the TV in his house in London, cradling a huge bowl of popcorn in his lap and watching the ballroom dancing competitions, marveling, "How do they move like that?"

Richard Kiel Chews the Fat

Phil Nugent — Wed, 20 May 2009 19:30:00 GMT

A poll once selected "Jaws", the steel-toothed assassin played by Richard Kiel in The Spy Who Loved Me and Moonraker, as the best-loved James Bond character, with 30% of the vote. Kiel is understandably proud of this fact, as well he might be, given the input he had in shaping the role. Speaking to Geoffrey Macnab, he recalls that Cubby Broccoli recruited him for the role with this pitch: ""The character we have in mind is going to have teeth like tools, maybe like a shark." (Maybe like a shark, and he's called "Jaws"? Does Kiel not know that there's a movie? Is it too late to tell him?) It turns out that Kiel hesitated to take the role because "He wanted to break away from rent-a-giant parts and play - as he puts it - 'regular henchman or villain roles'. However, he eventually managed to talk Broccoli into making Jaws a sympathetic, three-dimensional character rather than just a titan with gleaming metallic molars. 'If I was to play this role, I told him I'd want to give this character who kills people with his teeth a human side to make him more interesting, maybe have him be persevering and frustrated, so he wouldn't become boring. A guy killing people with his teeth could easily become over the top.'" After you've been in the business for a while, you become sensitive to these things.

Kiel made his debut in 1960 in an episode of the TV series Laramie, and stayed employed for the next fifteen years or so through a succession of, well, rent-a-giant roles. One of his classier early turns was as an alien representative in the classic Twilight Zone episode "To Serve Mankind." He also appeared in no fewer than three movies later immortalized on Mystery Science Theater 3000: Eegah!, the living-caveman flick from the semi-notorious Arch Hall, The Human Duplicators, and The Magic Sword, in which he picked up a check as an uncredited pinhead. He also played various heavies in a string of movies (Skidoo, Silver Streak, The Longest Yard) and TV shows (including two different special guest monsters on The Night Stalker). After Jaws, he appeared in So Fine, Cannonball Run II, Pale Rider, Happy Gilmore, and the family film The Giant of Thunder Mountain, which he wrote and executive produced. But he knows that, at some date in the long-off and unforseeable future, Jaws is going to top his obituary; he even reprised the character, sort of, in 2003 when he lent his voice to a video game. He certainly worked hard enough for the part: it turns out that the prosthetic dentures he wore for the role "were nauseating. They were up in the roof of your mouth and gave you a gagging effect - you felt like you were going to be sick. It did add to the stoic part of my character - to keep from throwing up." The man employed to make them "ended up successfully making one set. He told me he couldn't make any more - it was just too difficult." Between rides inside Kiel's mouth, the teeth were safely guarded, but he wasn't allowed to keep them as a souvenir and doesn't know where they are today. If they're looking for a MacGuffin for Nicolas Cage to track down in National Treasure 3...

The Screengrab's 12 Days of Christmas Marathon: "Santa Claus"

Leonard Pierce — Wed, 17 Dec 2008 17:45:00 GMT

Last week, the 12 Days of Christmas Marathon took a bit of a turn in the direction of high-camp lunacy with a look at the infamous Star Wars Holiday Special Today we take an even harder left, into the realm of utter derangement, with a look at the innocuously named yet completely bonkers "Mexiscope" classic Santa Claus. The only holiday film, to my knowledge, to get the full-on Mystery Science Theatre 3000 treatment, Santa Claus is a joint Mexican-American production from 1959. It was written and filmed south of the border on an ultra-low budget, and then re-edited by American schlockmeister K. Gordon Murray for a stateside audience. Who exactly this American audience was supposed to be, however, is left unanswered, as the movie makes no sense whatsoever in the original Spanish and actually crosses into negative sense-making in its English translation. Incomprehensible, culturally deranged, acted by people who weren't quite up to the high professional thespianic standards of professional wrestling, and so cheaply made it looks like it's peeling, Santa Claus is the movie equivalent of toys you buy at the dollar store.

Part of the problem with Santa Claus is that Mexico isn't entirely in synch with American Christmas tradition, so, just as the Japanese adapted jolly old St. Nick into "Annual Gift Man", the original producers of this movie envisioned Kris Kringle as a sort of extraterrestrial wizard whose goal is to turn children on the path of good and thwart the wiles of his crafty arch-enemy, Satan. That's right: the villain of this movie is none other than the Lord of Lies himself, and his wicked henchman Pitch, whose job it is to tempt the children of Earth, embodied in Mexican waif Lupita, into abandoning the true path of Santa and shoplifting toys for the greater glory of Lucifer. Luckily, Santa has his own right-hand man -- the wizard Merlin -- who supplies him with an arsenal of Dungeons & Dragons magic items, including sleeping powder, a skeleton key, and a flower that will make him invisible. Are you following all this? Because it doesn't get any less complicated from here.

Pitch, the gibbering little dope, has little success tempting the saintly Lupita to the ways of Satan, but he does have some success with a troika of bratty boys, recruiting them into a wacky scheme to kidnap St. Nick, steal his bag of toys, and, worst of all, make him a slave so that he will manufacture playthings in the name of the Devil. Along the way, he also manages to sic the cops on the Christmas icon, attack him with an angry dog, and generally make him wish he'd never left home, which for some reason is a futuristic floating cloud in outer space instead of a toy factory at the North Pole. Of course, you'd live there too, if it meant you got to play with cool shit like the Ear Scope, the Teletalker, the Cosmic Telescope, and the Master Eye; all this, combined with the garishly surreal set design, makes Santa seem like less of a beloved Christmas icon than a psychedelicized Big Brother. (He also employs kids in his workshop instead of elves, although it's not clear if that's an improvement or not by worker's rights standards, and when children don't fall asleep fast enough to suit him, he dopes them up with a mysterious substance that probably comes from a cut-rate Tijuana pharmacy.

As might be expected from the man who brought the world Robot vs. Aztec Mummy, there's all sorts of intensely strange stuff happening in Santa Claus. The jolly elfin hero has a disturbing laugh much more suited to a prison snitch than a cultural symbol of kindness and giving; Satan is portrayed by an actor nicknamed "Trotsky"; the dialogue -- much of which was translated by Murray himself -- has a hilariously stilted, Engrish-style literalism to it ("I promise, oh Priceless Prince of Hades, that by my many wiles I will finish Santa off forever, and see that the children commit terrible deeds, and make Santa Claus angry!"); and there's so much zaniness going on in every scene that it almost seems intentionally crazy rather than just inept. (What to make, otherwise, of Santa's mechano-zombie reindeer, which appear to be robotic but which crumble into dust at the sight of sunlight? Or Satan punishing Pinch by making him eat chocolate ice cream, which negatively affects his Satanic metabolism? Or the serious nightmare fuel of li'l' Lupita's dream visitation by an evil doll who tries to make her steal things?) Whatever the intentions of its various filmmakers, Santa Claus is truly one of a kind, and best of all, in our modern DVD age, it's available in any city with a large Latino population for no more than three bucks.

12 DAYS OF CHRISTMAS RATING: An robust and tasty 6 geese a-laying this rotten golden egg. It's surely not a good movie by any reckoning, but it's one that you'll never, ever forget -- show it to kids at your peril, because they'll be describing it to their therapists later.

The Screengrab's 12 Days of Christmas Marathon: The Nightmare Before Christmas

Screengrab Salutes: The Best & Worst James Bond Films of All Time! (Part Five)

Andrew Osborne — Thu, 13 Nov 2008 23:00:00 GMT

THE BEST:

4. ON HER MAJESTY'S SECRET SERVICE (1969)

Okay, stop laughing. Yes, we realize this is the one with George Lazenby. But have you actually watched this lately? It holds up a whole hell of a lot better than most Bond movies, including some of Connery’s classics. But while Lazenby doesn’t have the same 007 magic as Connery did, fortunately the movie realizes this and makes it work to its advantage. By the time he hung up the tux for the first time, Connery was beginning to look a little too superhuman, so OHMSS begins with the new Bond getting a serious beatdown and quipping, “this never would’ve happened to the other guy.” From there, the movie gets really interesting, as the more vulnerable 007 is sent on one of the character’s best-written adventures to date, leading him to a remote Alpine clinic that could have been inspired by Thomas Mann’s The Magic Mountain if not for the bevy of nubile patients found therein. Likewise, the film contains its share of spectacular stunts, with special mention going to an impressive ski chase. But while Bond’s lustiness and flair for action are fully intact, OHMSS sees him do something he hadn’t done onscreen before -- fall in love. But then, with the object of his affections played by Diana Rigg, who could blame him? This revelation of Bond’s romantic side makes this installment more human than most, giving its hero a greater emotional stake in his mission, capped by a shocker of an ending that the series has yet to top. It’s tempting to wonder whether the film would’ve worked even better with Connery, but no matter -- even with a former Australian underwear model, it’s still bloody great.

3. FROM RUSSIA WITH LOVE (1963)

For a long time, From Russia with Love – the second 007 movie – was considered the best. It later fell into a long battle with Goldfinger, and nowadays it’s often surpassed even for second place by some critics. It’s hard to see why: From Russia with Love is a roaring, energetic success from first frame to last. It cranks up everything from the first movie – the action scenes are wilder, the sexy scenes are sexier, the dialogue is wittier, and most of all the villains are top-shelf foes worthy of Bond. The opening scene is a killer, a fake-out that still packs a punch even after you know what’s coming, and it introduces all of the bad guys that make From Russia so juicy: the chess grandmaster Alexi Kronsteen, who hatches the movie’s plot; the vicious torturer Rosa Klebb (played by opera singer Lotte Lenya, slumming divinely); the brutal defector/assassin Red Grant, played by a stone-faced Robert Shaw; and, as the bait, Tatiana Romanova – played by Daniela Bianchi, one of the most gorgeous Bond girls. There’s also the usual dynamite set-pieces (including a raucous fight at a gypsy camp) and memorable weapons (Klebb’s poisoned shoe-blades), and one of the most enjoyable endings of any Bond movie. And it was JFK’s favorite!

2. DIAMONDS ARE FOREVER (1971)

This begins with a terrific sequence showing Bond on the warpath, tracking down Blofeld so that he can pay him back for having killed Tracy (Diana Rigg), who Bond wooed and wed in the previous installment, On Her Majesty's Secret Service. It also marked Connery's okay-but-just-this-once return to the series after sitting out OHMSS, and he plays this pre-title section with the controlled fury of a man who just missed out on his chance to get paid nine figures to make out with Diana Rigg. This is also the movie that proved that, no matter how many gadgets and goils are in place, it matters who plays the lead role. In a lot of ways, Diamonds is subpar Bond: it was the first film in the series made without the participation of Peter R. Hunt, who as editor and second unit director was integral to the look and feel of the action sequences on the earlier films, and who left after taking over as director on OHMSS, and the car chases and beatings lack the fluid aesthetic charge they once had. (At some points, they rival the Las Vegas setting itself for sheer tackiness.) But Connery, at forty-one, was just hitting his stride as an actor after almost ten years as a movie star, and he endows Bond with an ironic awareness and some vulnerability that are beautiful to see. It's probably the best performance he, or anyone else, ever gave in the part.

1. GOLDFINGER (1964)

The third James Bond film is close to being a consensus pick as the favorite. It was the first one to be considered a blockbuster success, making back its then-hefty $3 million budget in record time, and it’s not hard to see why: it’s really the first 007 adventure that has every single element of Bond greatness in place. It begins with the unforgettable theme song, performed by Shirley Bassey; it features a memorable villain in Gert Fröbe’s meaty precious metals enthusiast Auric Goldfinger, and one of the best henchmen of all time in Harold Sakata’s Oddjob, whose razor-brimmed fedora set the tone for future gimmick weapons. It had a clever plot, a solid script, lots of great action set-pieces, and a memorable deathtrap for Sean Connery’s 007, who must bluff his way out of being castrated by an industrial laser. Honor Blackman, fresh off The Avengers, plays Pussy Galore, one of the few Bond girls who aren’t total pushovers, and there’s lots of fun action from M and Q, as well as the full introduction of Bond’s tricked-out Aston Martin. Why is Goldfinger the best? Simple: it’s the quintessential Bond movie, containing everything a Bond movie should have in perfect order.

HONORABLE MENTION:

And finally...three Bond films that were disqualified from Best and Worst consideration for being close but not exactly actual Bond films at all...

OK CONNERY (1967); FFOLKES (1980); THE TAILOR OF PANAMA (2001)

Any association with a role like James Bond can result in an actor being typecast, but sometimes it's up to the actor to decide what to do with that. By 1980, Roger Moore was all but hermetically sealed in the role of 007, so much so that his only way to take a paid vacation was to accept the lead in a lame action-adventure movie, ffolkes, that was marketed to theaters with an ad campaign that tried to sell it as a Bond movie in all but name. The funny thing is that Moore latched onto the movie as a chance to escape Bond; the title character, a nautical-rescue-mission specialist who is prevailed upon by the British government to prevent Anthony Perkins from blowing up an oil rig, is an "eccentric" brainiac more in the Sherlock Holmes mode of antisocial superheroes, with a full beard and a pathological distaste for the fairer sex. The film didn't get much play, but Moore is said to prefer it to any of his Bond films.

The Tailor of Panama, directed by John Boorman and based on a John le Carre novel, provided Pierce Brosnan with a more direct route to giving his most iconic role an extended middle finger. Brosnan plays a horny total cynic of a secret agent whose compulsive womanizing inspires his bosses to ship him off to Panama to get him out of their hair. Incapable of behaving myself, Brosnan hires a tailor (Geoffrey Rush) to slip him information about his powerful clients; Rush, who can't find out anything but needs the money Brosnan is offering him, begins cooking up wild tales that Brosnan, who couldn't care less if they were true, is happy to send back to the home office. Between the two of them, they almost create an international crisis that is narrowly averted when the moviemakers had their budget slashed.

The booby prize in the Almost-Bond Sweepstakes goes to a 1967 movie that is alternately known as OK Connery, Operation Kid Brother, and Operation Double 007 -- that last being the title under which it was shown on Mystery Science Theater 3000. Made at a time when Sean Connery was already inching away from the role that had made him a star, this semi-spoof stars Connery's non-actor brother Neil as the little brother of an unidentified master secret agent who is unavailable for an important assignment. For the benefit of those very slow to get the point, any point, producer Dario Sabatello hired Bernard Lee and Lois Maxwell, the "M" and Miss Moneypenny of the regular Bond series, as well as Daniela Bianchi, of From Russia with Love, Adolfo Celi (who basically reprises his villainous role from Thunderball), and Anthony Dawson, who played a minor baddie in Dr. No and whose hands played the hands of Blofeld in a couple of later films. The role didn't led to much, though in 1984, Neil did contribute a cameo to a Hong Kong 007 spoof, directed by Tsui Hark, whose cast also included Richard ("Jaws") Kiel and Harold ("Oddjob") Sakata.

Click Here For Part One, Two, Three & Four

Contributors: Paul Clark, Leonard Pierce, Phil Nugent

Unwatchable #64: “Angels’ Brigade”

Scott Von Doviak — Tue, 04 Nov 2008 21:00:00 GMT

Our fearless – and quite possibly senseless – movie janitor is watching every movie on the IMDb Bottom 100 list. Join us now for another installment of Unwatchable.

It’s been a while since we’ve seen our friends from Mystery Science Theater 3000. Longtime readers of Unwatchable will recall that our trek through the lower reaches of the IMDb Bottom 100 list was littered with MST3K fodder, including obscurities (like Devil Fish and Track of the Moonbeast) that would never have found their way onto the list without an assist from the ‘bots. It’s time to add another entry to that list: the 1979 drive-in drivel Angels’ Brigade (also known as Angels Revenge). As a reminder, my policy in these cases is to find a pristine, unsnarked-upon copy of the movie in question whenever possible. In this case it was not possible, but rest assured I have not consciously stolen any hilarious observations.

Angels’ Brigade was truly a pivotal film in the distinguished career of director Greydon Clark. Before making this quintessential ’70s jiggle-fest, his career had languished in the exploitation ghetto of Black Shampoo, Satan’s Cheerleaders and Hi-Riders. Afterwards, he rocketed to the A-list heights of 1983’s Joysticks (starring Joe Don Baker), 1983’s Wacko (starring Joe Don Baker and George Kennedy), and 1985’s Final Justice (starring Joe Don Baker and Bill “squeal like a pig” McKinney), before reaching the pinnacle of The Forbidden Dance (sadly Joe Don Baker-free). Can we legitimately credit Angels’ Brigade with this change of fortune? I say we can.

The movie begins in mid-action sequence, with seven boobsy women in tight-fitting white jumpsuits engaged in some sort of terrorist activity. This goes on for nearly fifteen minutes before the opening credits roll and inform us that the stars of the movie we’re watching are Peter Lawford, Alan Hale, Pat Buttram, Jim Backus, and Jack Palance. This comes as quite as surprise, but sure enough, all of those luminaries eventually show up in Angels’ Brigade, as does Arthur Godfrey. I have to believe some sort of tax shelter or money laundering scheme was in play.

Eventually flashbacks reveal in painstaking and painful detail the process through which lounge singer Michelle Wilson assembles a Fox Force Five-esque team of foxy ladies to take on a drug cartel she blames for her brother’s woes. Reasonable people can disagree as to the film’s moment of greatness. Some would single out the beach scene in which the gals strip down to their bikinis and seduce a couple of yahoos responsible for bringing a drug shipment ashore, or perhaps the slow-moving rooftop chase in which Palance barely breaks a sweat in his leisure suit. I would point to the white supremacist group led by Jim Backus in a Sgt. Pepper outfit. (No one actually says they’re white supremacists, but I could tell by all the little Hitler mustaches.)

If you somehow manage to get an hour into Angels’ Brigade without realizing it’s a Charlie’s Angels knockoff, the score actually rips off the Charlie’s Angels theme during the climactic action sequence. The ending appears to promise a sequel, but fortunately, promises were made to be broken.

Previously on Unwatchable:
65. Meet the Browns
66. Jail Bait
67. Nine Lives
68. Kazaam
69. The Perfect Holiday (pending)

DVD Digest for August 28, 2008

Paul Clark — Tue, 28 Oct 2008 14:00:00 GMT

It’s a good week for fans of classic comedy of both the big-screen and televised varieties. Plus, the Christmas DVD season officially begins.

DVD of the Week: Tough call this week, with no real world-beaters in the bunch. But in terms of sheer quantity, nothing tops the release of the mammoth Abbott & Costello: The Complete Universal Pictures Collection. Over the length of 29 DVDs, Universal has compiled every single one of their Abbott & Costello features, as well as plenty of trailers and production notes. In addition, they’ve recorded commentary tracks on six of the movies, plus three new documentaries on one of comedy’s most legendary duos. Also included in the set is the companion book Abbott and Costello: The Universal Story. So if you’re an Abbott and Costello fan, today is your lucky day.

Other laughs can be had in this week’s new TV on DVD releases. For the seventies-era TV watcher, there’s Good Times: The Complete Series and Sanford and Son: The Complete Series (both Sony). For something a little more recent, check out the woefully underwatched-in-its-day NewsRadio: The Complete Series (Sony). Fans of animated sitcoms should enjoy The Flintstones: The Complete Series (Warner). And we shouldn’t forget about Mystery Science Theatre 3000 20th Anniversary Edition (Shout! Factory), which collects four of the gang’s most-requested episodes (First Spaceship on Venus, Laserblast, Werewolf and Future War), plus new interviews with the whole gang and a snazzy new Crow T. Robot figurine that’s sure to make you the envy of all your geeky friends (i.e. the only ones who really count).

Recent releases on coming to DVD this week include: Brendan Fraser treading all over Jules Verne in Journey to the Center of the Earth (Warner, also Blu-Ray); Abigail Breslin in her seventeenth movie of 2008, Kit Kittredge: An American Girl (Warner, also Blu-Ray); Catherine Zeta Jones and Guy Pearce (as Houdini) in Gillian Armstrong’s Death Defying Acts (Weinstein); and a movie everyone will want to add to his DVD collection, Zombie Strippers (Sony, also Blu-Ray).

Finally, this week’s classics selection includes two of Warner’s recent Christmas favorites, The Polar Express Presented in 3D (Warner, also Blu-Ray, includes four pairs of 3D glasses), and Elf (Warner, Blu-Ray only, includes plentiful images of Will Ferrell in tights). And while Roger Ebert has gone gaga over the new DVD/Blu-Ray remastering of Ron Fricke’s Baraka (MPI, also Blu-Ray), allow me to stump for another sentimental favorite of mine. I’m referring, of course, to Juan Piquer-Simon’s Pieces (Ryko Distribution), one of the trashiest, dumbest, and irresistibly entertaining bad movies ever made. If that doesn’t sound like your kind of thing, stay far away. But if you’ve got a taste for gloriously fragrant cinematic garbage, Pieces is required viewing, Halloween or any other time of year.

Unwatchable #85: "Battlefield Earth"

Scott Von Doviak — Wed, 11 Jun 2008 18:00:00 GMT

Our fearless – and quite possibly senseless – movie janitor is watching every movie on the IMDb Bottom 100 list. Join us now for another installment of Unwatchable.

Welcome to a very special edition of Unwatchable! What’s so special about yet another crappy movie, you ask? Well, for the first time since I started this project, the movie in question is one that I have already seen! This may not make it special for you, but Hubbard knows it couldn’t have come at a better time for me. It’s also special because, unlike all of these unworthy Mystery Science Theater subjects, Battlefield Earth has truly earned its position on the Bottom 100 list. Here are the top three reasons why:

Monstrous Ego Trip/Vanity Project. Hollywood’s second-most famous Scientologist had long dreamed of bringing L. Ron Hubbard’s epic sci-fi vision to the screen. With his career reduced to a series of talking baby movies, he didn’t exactly have the clout to pull it off, but then Quentin Tarantino and Pulp Fiction came along, and soon Travolta was back on the A-list. For a while, we were all so happy for Travolta and his big screen comeback. By the time Battlefield Earth rolled out, there probably wasn’t a person left on the planet who was still happy for him besides his agent. It had taken so long to bring the so-called “Saga of the Year 3000” to fruition, Travolta was too old for the lead role of Johnnie ‘Goodboy’ Tyler (played here by Barry Pepper), so instead he appears as a 10-foot-tall dreadlocked Psychlo named Terl. It’s a terrible performance – Travolta’s girlish giggle and reedy, sing-song reading of lines like “You are out of your skullbone!” are far from fearsome – but at least Travolta is better off than co-star Forest Whitaker, now an Academy Award winner, then a cross between George Clinton and the Cowardly Lion.

Misbegotten Sci-Fi Extravaganza. Sure, it’s possible that Battlefield Earth was intended as a piece of Scientology propaganda, but I have no idea how anyone could tell from the finished product. So muddled and mindless it makes David Lynch’s Dune look like a model of crisp, coherent storytelling, the movie is a chaotic blur of poorly edited action and bottom-of-the-barrel special effects. Set in a post-apocalyptic future where the alien Psychos (who sound like they’re gargling with their own vomit every time they speak) have enslaved the remaining “man-animals,” the story concerns the inevitable rebellion led by Pepper. It’s the kind of movie where our heroes, who have been living a barbarian-level existence, teach themselves to fly Harrier jets in a matter of days. The thrift-store look of this dark dystopic future is epitomized by the cruddy CGI backgrounds that make one yearn for the artistry of the matte paintings from Beneath the Planet of the Apes.

Massive Box Office Failure. Taking in a mere $21 million in the U.S., less than a third of its budget, the movie laid a big egg at the box office. Obviously, not every bomb is necessarily a bad movie, but the people have definitely spoken in the case of Battlefield Earth. Of all the Bottom 100 entries we’ve covered so far, none have received more than 4000 votes on the IMDb (a minimum of 650 is required for inclusion on the list of infamy). Battlefield Earth has received more than 29,000 votes – truly a dud for the ages.

Previously on Unwatchable:
86. Hobgoblins
87. The Sidehackers
88. College Road Trip (pending)
89. Bloodlust!
90. The Bat People

In Other Blogs: Sex and Slavery Edition

Scott Von Doviak — Fri, 06 Jun 2008 15:30:00 GMT

The blogosphere takes on Sex and the City this week, wrestling with the big questions like: Am I Neanderthal knuckledragger if I refuse to see this movie? And if I am, do I care? At Some Came Running Glenn Kenny made an offhand comment, expressing glee at having no professional obligation to see the film. This remark was taken by some as sexist snobbery, a charge Kenny responds to thusly: “When one puts it that way, it’s tough to answer, as the sexism charge only creates a feedback loop, as reverse-sexism charges are leveled at the movie’s depiction of its male characters, and nobody goes home happy. (Incidentally, I should point out here that as of this writing, I still have yet to see the Sex and the City movie.) It’s the snobbism charge, or rather my own personal reaction to the snobbism charge, that I found interesting. My own personal reaction being, ‘So what?’ Not only ‘so what,’ but ‘fuck that noise,’ because, I’m entitled to pull out the snob card every now and again, am I not? Just because something is a putative pop culture phenomenon I’m automatically expected to give it some respect?”

At Scanners, Jim Emerson offers no apologies. “Summer's here and the time is right for fart, diarrhea and masturbation jokes in the theaters. Not just in raunchy male-oriented comedies, but in so-called ‘chick flicks’ -- the ones groups of women attend after a few cocktails. I'm speaking, of course, about Sex and the City. Could it, perhaps, be the long-awaited Judd Apatow(ish) movie for gals? You know, the one about a group of friends who hang out and get drunk or stoned, complain about their relationships (or lack thereof), make dirty scatalogical jokes, and generally prefer one another's company to that of the opposite sex? You tell me. Because, sadly, nobody has enough money to pay me to go see Sex and the City. I am not the target audience and I know that. I have no objection to it, either. As Roger Ebert succinctly stated at the top of his review ‘I am not the person to review this movie.’ Me, too. I am also not that person.”

Mandingo is just out on DVD, and Sergio Leone and the Infield Fly Rule offers a reconsideration. “The reviews were so dismissive that by the time the movie resurfaced during the age of VHS it had developed a reputation as some sort of abomination, a camp classic, a shameful artistic disaster. I wasn’t even sure if I could rely on my own memories of the film to be accurate, shaded as they were by circumstances under which I first saw it (I was 15 years old and in the company of my paternal grandmother!) and my uncertainty as to whether those negative reviews might be right…I sincerely hope that with the release of Mandingo on DVD that some revisionism regarding its status as a “so-bad-it’s-good” camp classic will begin to take place. Those IMDb comments from viewers who have seen it recently certainly seem to suggest that there a movement in this direction already underway. When I saw the movie at the American Cinematheque early last year, it was easy to sense that the audience came primed to giggle at the antiquated, period-authentic dialogue, the impolitic slurs and the debased folk mythology that makes up the worldview of Mandingo’s white characters. But it was heartening to hear that nervous giggling die down after about 15 minutes when it became clear that the movie was no corny sex-and-slavery romp, was no easy candidate for Mystery Science Theater-type derision, but instead a serious and agonized attempt to grapple with a period in American history that it seemed was still too hot to handle.”

Adam Sandler: Republican Actor? That’s the contention of Eric Kohn at Cinematical. “Sandler's movies often embrace idealized notions of blue collar lifestyles. In Little Nicky, which Village Voice film critic J. Hoberman found ‘gross, but awash in family values,’ the devil's son is expected to replace his father, akin to the dilemma facing Billy Madison. The simplified correlation between family and work, a dated model of Norman Rockwell proportions, comes up in the blossoming fatherhood plot of Big Daddy and the stress of a demanding job in Click. The dynamic gets even more complicated with I Now Pronounce You Chuck and Larry, a movie about two straight guys disgusted by homosexuality. You could say the film eventually approves of gay marriage, but it does so with notable reluctance.”

And finally this week in List-o-Mania, Cracked offers 8 Classic Movie Robots That Actually Suck at Their Job. We expect the inclusion of R2-D2 to spur great controversy. “Everyone loves good old R2. From the first time some witty scribe made a joke about him looking just like a garbage can back in the '70s, right up to today, he's one of cinema's favorite robots…On the other hand, we're not 100 percent sure what R2-D2 is good at.”

Unwatchable #87: "The Sidehackers"

Scott Von Doviak — Thu, 05 Jun 2008 18:00:00 GMT

Our fearless – and quite possibly senseless – movie janitor is watching every movie on the IMDb Bottom 100 list. Join us now for another installment of Unwatchable.

The eagle-eyed and mathematically inclined among you may have noticed that we’ve skipped from #89 to #87 in our little survey of the shittiest. The reason is simple: #88 on the list is the 2008 Martin Lawrence comedy College Road Trip, which will not be released on DVD until next month. Since I somehow managed to miss its theatrical run, we'll catch up with it later. For now we’ll move on to 1969’s The Sidehackers, which proves to be a change of pace from the mutant insects and quicksand-ridden islands we’ve been dealing with lately.

What, you may ask, is a sidehacker? Well, silly, a sidehacker is one who sidehacks! And what is sidehacking? Apparently it’s a form of motorcycle racing that may or may not have actually existed at one point. It involves a metal bar and platform extending from the right side of a motorcycle, upon which a passenger rides. This passenger is responsible for leaning into turns and providing extra torque, if I am using the turn correctly. And if I’m not, who gives a crap, since I’m still not convinced sidehacking is or ever was a real thing. Granted, the opening credits give special thanks to the Southern California Side-Hack Association, but that group appears to be defunct at best, if my rudimentary research is any indication. If any current or former members of the Association would like to dispel my skepticism, feel free to post a comment. Anyway, Vince Rommel (gravel-throated biker movie stalwart Ross Hagen, a poor man’s Steve McQueen) is the king of the sidehacking, “a new and exciting sport filled with thrills and spills you’ve never seen before.” And after you’ve watched The Sidehackers, you still haven’t seen them, despite the copious footage on display. Many minutes of sidehacking are presented for our consideration, none of them exciting in any way.

It doesn’t matter much, because sidehacking virtually disappears from the movie once the plot machinations kick into gear. It seems that J.C. (Michael Pataki, who diligent Unwatchable fans may remember as Sgt. Ward from The Bat People and culture mavens everywhere will recall as George Liquor from Ren and Stimpy), a mincing, shiny-shirted biker, would like to recruit Rommel for his touring motorcycle act. Rommel isn’t interested in J.C.’s offer, nor does he comply with J.C.’s girlfriend Paisley’s desire for a roll in the hay. The jilted Paisley gets back at him by making J.C. believe that Rommel raped her. J.C. responds by raping and killing Rommel’s girl Rita. So I gather, anyway; I didn’t see this happen because The Sidehackers is one of those movies I couldn’t find in any form other than its Mystery Science Theater 3000 incarnation, which omits the crucial scene. Now, I can sort of understand this; it’s hard to have robots cracking wise over a rape-murder scene, although they don’t seem to have any problem later in the film when J.C. strangles Paisley to death. Again, though, the purity of the Unwatchable experiment has been tainted by these friggin’ robots.

The movie ends with a very 1969 showdown, in which Rommel shows mercy and lets J.C. live, and J.C. thanks him by shooting him in the back. Bummer, man.

Previously on Unwatchable:
89. Bloodlust!
90. The Bat People
91. Horrors of Spider Island
92. I Accuse My Parents
93. Howling III: The Marsupials

John Phillip Law, 1937--2008

Phil Nugent — Thu, 15 May 2008 22:00:00 GMT

John Phillip Law has died at the age of 70. Six foot five with blond hair, blue eyes and finely crafted features, Law worked in New York theater in the early 1960s before breaking into Hollywood films as the romantic juvenile in Norman Jewison's 1966 comedy The Russians Are Coming, the Russians Are Coming. He would go on to appear in two megaton bombs directed by Otto Preminger, the Southern gothic Hurry Sundown the acid-testing comedy Skidoo, in which he played a hippie. That project turned out to be harbinger of the career to come, as was this quote from an interview Law gave in 1966: "I've had more kicks out of playing far-out things. It's like putting on a funny face and going out in front of people and going, 'yaaaaaa.' " He was about to have plenty of opportunities to put on his funny faces. In 1968, in one of his highest-profile roles, he appeared opposite Jane Fonda in Barbarella (1968), playing a blind but well-hung angel and wearing enormous, tacky-looking wings. He also starred in a failed 1971 film version of the Jacqueline Susann pulp bestseller The Love Machine and had the honor of being kissed on the lips by Rod Steiger in The Sergeant (1968). In 1974, he donned a turban to star in The Golden Voyage of Sinbad, one of the better later showcases for the stop-motion special effects of Ray Harryhausen.

Although he slipped far down from the A-list in Hollywood, Law kept working, on TV, in oddball low-budget genre films such as Night Train to Terror, and often in Europe, where he made such films as the 1967 spaghetti Western Death Rides a Horse with Lee Van Cleef. In recent years, he began to acquire a new fan base among new filmgoers who saw him as a key figure in the 1960s international cinema of the weird. (In 2001, Roman Coppola honored him as a living memento of that era by casting him in his directorial debut, CQ.) One movie that made a cult comeback through that particular pipeline is Diabolik (sometimes called Danger: Diabolik), a 1967 sci-fi comic-strip caper directed by Mario Bava, starring Law as a space-age super-cat burglar; it served as the inspiration for a Beastie Boys video (see below) and was the last film shown on Mystery Science Theater 3000. Law, a dedicated actor who was almost equally famous for his dedication to the Playboy mansion, could scarcely have asked for a more appropriate, and affectionate, tribute.

Unwatchable #94: “Invasion of the Neptune Men”

Scott Von Doviak — Thu, 15 May 2008 19:30:00 GMT

Our fearless – and quite possibly senseless – movie janitor is watching every movie on the IMDb Bottom 100 list. Join us now for another installment of Unwatchable.

Regular readers of this column could probably guess that Invasion of the Neptune Men is the latest Unwatchable entry to find its way into the Bottom 100 thanks to its appearance on Mystery Science Theater 3000. Fortunately, I am able to bring you an untainted analysis of this 1961 sci-fi spectacular thanks to the good people at Dark Sky Films, who have released Neptune Men as part of a Drive-In Double Feature DVD, complete with vintage trailers and announcements from the snack bar. If only I had a DVD player in my car, I could have picked up a six-pack, a couple hot dogs and a bucket of popcorn, driven out to a field somewhere and watched it as it was meant to be seen, thus officially becoming the biggest dork in the universe.

Ah, who am I kidding? I’m watching the 100 worst movies of all time – I’m already the biggest dork in the universe. That’s probably why I admire Space Chief’s rocket car so much…but I’m getting ahead of myself. It should come as no surprise that Invasion of the Neptune Men concerns an invasion of men from Neptune. A group of nerdy Japanese schoolboys are the first to spot the alien aggressors, tracking their spaceship with a telescope and racing to a nearby field to greet them. The Neptunians – Neptunites? Neptunesians? – emerge from the craft in silvery suits, with slot machines on their heads, and naturally their first impulse is to strangle the small children. Their attack is thwarted when Space Chief (martial arts star and Tarantino fetish object Sonny Chiba in one of his earliest roles) arrives in his snazzy ride, which looks like a rocket-powered ’59 Cadillac El Dorado, and puts the beat down on the aliens. It’s never really explained where Space Chief comes from, or what his powers may be, but we do know his secret identity: he’s the kids’ science teacher. Undeterred by their momentary defeat, the aliens really start messing with us: they make the clocks run backward, the jukeboxes go crazy, and then they get serious and blow up a nuclear reactor.

Plotwise, Neptune Men isn’t exactly a tightly wound Swiss watch; it has its own peculiar rhythms and long silences, and much screen time is devoted to people milling about and staring up at the sky. It does have its moments, though. There’s a creepy sequence in which a platoon of Neptunians take on the guise of Japanese soldiers (imperfectly – they all look like they’re wearing black lipstick) and vaporize real soldiers with their death rays, leaving nothing but blast shadows on the walls. I liked the sharp black-and-white images and the clean retro-futurist set design. (I especially enjoyed the rolling office chairs on the deck of the Neptunians’ spaceship.) And the special effects aren’t even terrible; there’s some elegant rear-screen projection work when a fleet of flying saucers passes over the city, and some decent pyrotechnics. It’s still a little hard to sit through even at 74 minutes, and I’m forced to penalize it for a truly atrocious dubbing job – some of those kids sounded like they should be applying for social security. I’ll give it two Maurys: it’s a passable bottom half of a double feature, assuming you’re drunk enough.

Previously on Unwatchable:

95. Marci X
96. Track of the Moon Beast
97. Bolero
98. Kickboxer 4: The Aggressor
99. The Honeymooners

Unwatchable #96: “Track of the Moon Beast”

Scott Von Doviak — Tue, 13 May 2008 20:30:00 GMT

Our fearless – and quite possibly senseless – movie janitor is watching every movie on the IMDb Bottom 100 list. Join us now for another installment of Unwatchable.

As was the case with Devil Fish, this low-budget 1976 tale of reptilian horror has made its way onto the Bottom 100 list courtesy of its appearance on Mystery Science Theater 3000. I suspected this would become a recurring problem, and that appears to be the case. (I’m not 100% certain only because I’m not peeking too far ahead on the master list. You see, I view the Unwatchable series as a major league baseball team views its season. It’s a marathon, not a sprint. You’ve got to take it one game at a time, lest ye be overwhelmed by the insurmountable odds of achieving your goal. In this case, my odds are roughly equivalent to those of the Washington Nationals.)

I find the MST3K situation problematic for several reasons. In a strange way, the presence of movies that have been eviscerated on that show taints the purity of the Bottom 100 list. If you voted for Devil Fish or Track of the Moon Beast because you happened to see them at the drive-in or on late night television, fine. But I’m betting most people who voted for them did so because the MST3K crew pre-approved them as bad movies. Who among us can say we have seen Track of the Moon Beast as it was meant to be seen, without robots cracking wise in the foreground? Not me. But in the future, I will do my best to obtain and view non-MST3K versions of the movies on the list. That is my Unwatchable vow.

The second problem is, of course, that all the jokes to be made about Track of the Moon Beast have already been made. You might think there’s an unlimited amount of humor to be derived from the story of a man who gets a shard of meteorite imbedded in his skull which causes him to turn into a giant lizard. But you would be wrong. And the MST3K gang likewise drained every possible laugh from the name of the victim’s faithful Indian companion, Johnny Longbow. And what can I possibly add that would bring any additional mirth to the line uttered by the hotpants-clad love interest of the were-lizard: “Come on, Johnny Longbow – I’d like to see you live up to your name.” Not a thing, I confess.

One interesting thing – OK, the only interesting thing – about Track of the Moon Beast is that is was co-written by Bill Finger, the writer of many early Batman comics. It’s the one and only directorial effort by Richard Ashe, who takes a very small budget and does very little with it. The one eye-catching image in the movie comes in the first two minutes, when a big creepy, shiny mask appears before our hero in the desert. (It turns out to be a prank played by two of Professor Longbow’s mischievous students.) The only genuinely scary scene is the sudden, unexplained appearance of a country-rock singer in the mold of Keith Carradine from Nashville. There are low-budget horror movies that use their lack of resources to their advantage in creating a dank, grubby mood of despair, and then there are those with crappy rubber lizard suits. This is one of the latter.

Previously on Unwatchable:

97. Bolero
98. Kickboxer 4: The Aggressor
99. The Honeymooners
100. Devil Fish

Godzilla at Fifty: PopMatters Blows Out the Candles

Phil Nugent — Tue, 13 May 2008 14:30:00 GMT

PopMatters celebrates Godzilla's fiftieth birthday with a jam-packed "special section" on the radioactive thunder lizard's oevure and cultural legacy. Thomas Molesky and Brian Ruh fill in the historical context; Steven Luc examines Godzilla's ability to be all things to all people; Mark Pyzyk ponders the levels of "self-loathing" that drive audiences to cheer the big fella on as he confounds our military and flattens our cities; Tobias Peterson and Will Harris wonder how he got so cute; Bill Gibron addresses the criticisms leveled by Mystery Science Theater 3000 that "the surly superstar from the land of the rising sun really coasted through a great many of his later films."

In the opening essay, Mike Ward tracks what a long, strange trip it's been through the chronology of Japanese Godzilla films, from the atomic-devastation metaphors of the original Gojira, as hia mama named him, to the self-conscious mythology addressed three decades later in Godzilla 1985, in which Godzilla is compared, by a scientist, to "a living nuclear weapon" and described by reporter "Steve Martin" (Raymond Burr) as nature's way of reminding us "how puny we really are in the face of a tornado, an earthquake, or a Godzilla." Writes Ward: "Maybe in Godzilla's case, overtly stating the theme is the same as contradicting it. If, in his unknowability, Godzilla stands in for the inexpressible horror of the atomic bomb, then expressing this metaphor outright — he's a 'living nuclear weapon' — robs it of its force. This is why mysterious quantities like the Oxygen Destroyer are no longer needed to defeat him. A volcano is now Godzilla's equal; which puts him into a known category, along with tornadoes and earthquakes. Godzilla is just another disaster." With so much to chew on, PopMatters could have been allowed to simply ignore perhaps the biggest disaster ever to tarnish Gojira's name, but instead, Ward addresses it head on, directly and succinctly: "Toho Productions' Godzilla could whip Roland Emmerich's Godzilla back to the Jazz Age."

Unwatchable #100: “Devil Fish”

Scott Von Doviak — Mon, 28 Apr 2008 20:00:00 GMT

A few weeks ago, you may recall, Sam Richards of The Guardian subjected himself to a handful of entries on the IMDb’s Bottom 100 list – the absolute worst of the worst-ranked movies of all time. At first I thought he was crazy. Then I realized he hadn’t gone nearly far enough. Any moron can sit through a few of these godawful pictures; it takes a special kind of idiot to watch all 100 of them. And I’m here to tell you, loyal Screengrab readers, I am that idiot.

For your entertainment and my own detriment, I am going to watch and review them all, starting with #100 and working my way to the top. Of course, the IMDb list is constantly changing based on the whims of the voting public, but I will be sticking with the Bottom 100 I downloaded on the day I decided to tackle this most awe-inspiring task. And on whatever day that was, the #100 ranked movie was Shark: Rosso nell'oceano, or as you may know it: Devil Fish.

There’s a reason you might know it: in what I fear may become a recurring problem with this project, Devil Fish is on the list because it was skewered by those pranksters at Mystery Science Theater 3000. This makes its inclusion somewhat illegitimate to my way of thinking, since nobody would have heard of it otherwise and it would have had no chance of making the Bottom 100. And I know this won’t make me any friends amongst the bad movie cognoscenti, but I’ve never really been a fan of MST3K; heck, I don’t even like the abbreviation MST3K. If I want to be trapped in a room with a bunch of dorks making lame jokes about a movie I’m trying to watch, it’s easy enough to accomplish that goal. I don’t need them actually pasted there in front of the movie I’m trying to watch, with no way of drowning out their commentary, but in this case, I had no choice. I did my best to pretend they weren’t there and come to the film with only the purest intentions, but it wasn’t easy.

Directed by Lamberto “son of Mario” Bava, Devil Fish (or Monster Shark or Red Ocean or even Devouring Waves) is a belated Jaws knockoff from 1986 set in the Florida Everglades. A bony dolphin trainer, a beer-swilling scientist and the local sheriff join forces to battle a waterlogged monster that doesn’t actually appear to be much of a shark at all, given that it has tentacles. In a classic case of the cure being worse than the disease, the solution they arrive at is to douse the Everglades with gasoline and set it ablaze with flamethrowers. I guess this qualifies as eco-horror, though perhaps not in the way Bava intended.

With its wooden performances, cheesy effects and slack approach to editing, Devil Fish is certainly ripe for mockery, but I don’t know that it’s any worse than a hundred other low-budget monster movies that could easily have taken its place on the list. Which brings me to my “Unwatchable” rating system, inspired by my loyal co-watcher, Maury the Wonder Chibeagle. On a scale of one to four Maurys – one being a movie that actually has redeeming qualities, four being an atrocity against mankind – I hereby award Devil Fish two Maurys:

Unwatchable: The All-Time Bottom 100 Movies

Scott Von Doviak — Thu, 03 Apr 2008 17:30:00 GMT

Forget Ishtar, Heaven’s Gate, Howard the Duck and all the other renowned turkeys of cinema history. The Guardian delves into the depths of the IMDb’s 100 lowest ranked movies to find the truly toxic, the absolute worst of the worst. As Sam Richards writes, the IMDb list “differs from most critic-voted ‘worst movie of all-time’ lists, in that any film that's memorably bad - say, Swept Away - tends to get just enough positive responses to save it from total ignominy. The Bottom 100 exists to catalogue films that have been viewed out of error, obligation or last-turkey-in-the-shop desperation.”

Richards sampled a handful of the lowest-ranked entries “in a Ludovico technique-style experiment.” Number three on the list is Zombie Nation, “a staggeringly idiotic 2004 film by German director Ulli Lommel, regarded as a modern day Ed Wood…Expecting a gore-fest, you're confronted by the world's worst 'zombies': they wear aviators and lipstick, drive cars and devour their prey to the sound of perky Europop.” He also checks out Mystery Science Theater 3000 favorite Manos: The Hands of Fate, “shabby piece of teensploitation” Invisible Maniac, and the number one entry on the Bottom 100, none other than The Hottie and the Nottie. “It's not the worst film ever though, just a predictable, insulting vanity project that asks you to accept that an emu-faced posho with only one available facial expression is the most beautiful woman in America.”

You can check out the complete list here. As you can see, it skews toward more recent fare like Witless Protection and the critically reviled oeuvre of spoofmeisters Jason Friedberg and Aaron Seltzer (Meet the Spartans). Somebody must like those movies since they keep making money, but apparently the fans prefer to remain incognito. Our biggest disappointment is that Richards did not subject himself to #82 on the list, Anus Magillicutty. An IMDb user comment reveals one of the pitfalls of the Bottom 100: “I watched this movie because it was rated to be so bad it might have been good.” If there’s one thing we’ve learned here at the Screengrab, it’s that this is almost never true.