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BAD
MOVIE NIGHT ARCHIVE
2008
(that means you missed them... D'oh!!)
Sunday,
December 30, 2007
screenshot ganked from NeoGAF
(die hard 2: die harder)
It has been brought to our attention that in the nearly three years since Bad Movie Night began, we have not shown a single film in which someone is killed by an icicle.
Please accept our humble apologies.
We hope this movie makes up for it.
See you in '08.
Your hosts Sherilyn Connelly, Maura Sipila and Mikl-Em will die even harderer. Or something.
Sunday,
December 23, 2007
(jingle all the way)
So we did It's a Wonderful Life last week—for the second year in a row—and it didn't destroy Christmas.
Oh well. Here's for better luck in '08.
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"at least phil worked with me again!" |
Anyway, if making fun of It's a Wonderful Life doesn't do the trick, then the very existence of this movie should.
Arnold Schwarzenegger plays an oddly-accented father trying to get his kid a popular toy for xmas, blah blah blah heartwarming sentimentality crap crap crap. You know how it goes.
What's really painful about this movie is that it was not only the one of Phil Hartman's last movies before he was killed, but it was the second movie he made with Sinbad.
If that sad fact isn't enough reason to cancel the holidays, I don't know what is.
Your hosts are Jim Fourniadis, Geekboy, Mike Spiegelman and other Turbo Men.
Sunday,
December 16, 2007
(it's a wonderful life)
As usual, the San Francisco Weekly's repertory calendar said it best:
Yeah. What's wrong with these people? Which is to say, us?
How can we make fun of a movie that's so beloved, that's so loved by so many people, that we evidently aren't supposed to...well, make fun of it?
Well, have you tried to actually watch the movie recently?
If not—or even if you have—come on down and watch it again, by the time it's over, you'll feel just like the kid at the bottom of the picture with his hands on his face.
Oh, and Sean Owens will not be hosting that night. Damned liberal media!
Your hosts are Jim Fourniadis, Sherilyn Connelly, Rimma Dreyband and other angels who will not be getting their wings.
Sunday,
December 9, 2007
screenshot ganked from cheezitz
(black christmas)
Back to horror remakes for a week. Bear with us. It's the holidays and all.
What's peculiar about the current spate of horror remakes is how, unlike other remakes, whether or not the original film was successful doesn't really matter.
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pay no attention to the woman over 25. |
If a film is well-known, there's a good chance that it'll be remade. That's just the nature of things.
In this case, it was a relatively obscure 1974 movie that nobody outside of edicated horror buffs had heard of. Certainly the target audience of teenagers weren't familiar with it, the way they inherently were
with the original Texas Chainsaw Massacre or Amityville Horror.
But it has an exploitable angle (Christmas) and an extremely exploitable cast (hot young sorority babes). And after remaking When a Stranger Calls, you can can only go up, and in this case "up" is this movie.
Most importantly, though, Buffy's annoying young sister gets killed.
Best. Bad. Movie. Ever.
Maybe.
Your hosts are Jim Fourniadis, Mike Spiegelman and Sherilyn Connelly (who promises not to mention her crush on Lacey Chabert.)
Sunday,
December 2, 2007
(eight crazy nights)
Raise your hand if you thought Adam Sandler was funny on Saturday Night Live in the nineties.
It's okay. So did we. And we liked his "Hannakuh Song," just like you did. We're all in this together.
He was fantastic in a supporting role Bob Goldthwait's Shakes The Clown ("Yeah, I've been juggling 'n shit"), and Billy Madison was funnier than it had any right to be. Then came Happy Gilmore, which had its moments, but something wasn't...quite...right.
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it's okay to want to slap him. |
The Wedding Singer had its moments, but then there was The Waterboy and Big Daddy, and—heaven help us—Little Nicky. Ouch.
Punch-Drunk Love? Brilliant. Working with real directors with real style (Paul Thomas Anderson, following up Magnolia), back on track. Okay, so it was a flop at the box office and his regular fans hated it, but still, it was a good movie for a change, and—
But it was a flop, and that was all that mattered. A flop, and a fluke.
Because that same year gave us this animated movie, a festival of fart and puke and poop jokes in the guise of a heartwarming holiday comedy. The nights aren't even all that crazy.
He never did work with Paul Thomas Anderson again, but he did make Anger Management and The Longest Yard and (make it stop? please?) I Now Pronounce You Chuck and Larry.
Sadly, this week's feature is not Punch-Drunk Love.
Your three crazy hosts (get it? the movie's called Eight Crazy Nights! clever, huh?) are Sherilyn Connelly, Mike Spiegelman and Phil Darnowsky.
Sunday,
November 25, 2007
screenshot ganked from toby's film stills
(the net)
See what we did? We started this month with Hackers from '95, dove into the mid-eighties for Electric Dreams and WarGames, and now we're back in '95 for The Net! Isn't that clever?
And it's intentional, honest!
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"keanu never answers his email..." |
But anyway.
The same year that gave us screen-n00b Angelina Jolie as big-lipped, skateboarding leet hax0r "Acid Burn," Sandra Bullock (not too long after Speed) as a lifeless computer nerd.
After the super-futuristic act of ordering pizza online, she visits a webpage3or, as we called it back then, a page on the World Wide Web—which sends her into a deadly game of cat-and-mouse where she—
...what?
Yeah. Sandra Bullock as a lifeless computer nerd.
Look, we didn't make the damn thing, okay?
But we will take it apart.
Your hosts Jim Fourniadis, Geekboy and Mikl-em sincerely apologize for the presence of Dennis Miller in this movie.
Sunday,
November 18, 2007
screenshot ganked from regal beagles
(wargames)
We're the first to admit it: not every movie we do is bad.
Many of them are well-written, competently shot, and have decent actors like Dabney Coleman or...um...Ally Sheedy.
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"if i spill my soda, the computer will fall in love with you!" |
They may feature looks into emerging subcultures that will eventually dominate everyday life, but at the time, are considered extremely esoteric, like the home computers
in this film.
Or hacking, for that matter.
So even if you have a good time watching it, you may wonder afterward:
"Wait a minute? What just happened?
Were Michael Madsen and Eddie Deezen both in that movie?
Is that even possible?"
That's not the only impossible thing about this movie.
Your hosts Sherilyn Connelly, Rimma Dreyband and Mike Spiegelman take the snark to DefCon 1.
Sunday,
November 11, 2007
screenshot ganked from articulate
(electric dreams)
And then there are some movies which, at time, seemed...well, not plausible, exactly, but you could roll with them.
Hackers is far too goofy to really get a hold on, but at the time, this movie almost made sense. Almost.
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YSOS: the Yellow Screen Of Sadness. |
I liked it, anyway. I knew it was a fantasy, but still.
It helped if you were thirteen, though and believed your Atari 65XE was the coolest thing ever.
Guy accidentally douses his home computer with champagne, it achieves sentience, and they both start lusting after Virginia Madsen.
Huh. Yeah.
Okay, yeah. It really helped if you were thirteen.
Your hosts Jim Fournaidis, Mike Spiegelman, Shaun Landry and Hans Summer will bring 64KB of snark.
Sunday,
November 4, 2007
(hackers)
The fundamental problem: there's nothing more boring than someone using a computer.
The glowy screen and graphics and all that don't help. It's just not kinetic or interesting.
Even someone using a typewriter is more inherently cinematic, since the camera can focus on the mechanical aspects of the typewriter, and there's that satisfying thwack-thwack-thwack sound.
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You green-blooded, puffy-lipped Vulcan! |
Whaddaya got with computers? Matthew Broderick hooking his TI-99/4A to a voice synthesizer in a desperate attempt on the part of the filmmakers to make his all-caps forty-column hacking remotely interesting. (Don't worry, we'll get to that in a couple of weeks.)
Instead, this oh-so-1995 film mixes what the kids like to call "MTV-style editing" with the always contemporary concept of virtual reality, throws in a young Angelina Jolie and her already fucked-up lips (which get their own closeup five seconds after she first appears onscreen), "hip" fashions, trendy techno music, and probably the most realistic vision of computers since...oh, we've really gotta go with Automan on this one.
These particular teenage computer geniuses are also not virgins. Are you getting the level of fantasy at work yet? (Speaking of fantasies, there's a flash of Jolie breast if don't blink. Just sayin'.)
Oh, yeah. Fisher Stevens—who, to be fair, was hella funny in My Science Project—is the bad guy, and Penn Jillette is one of his henchmen, looking not unlike costar Matthew Lillard after getting raped by an air-pump. We'd like to think that Penn's paycheck from this film directly financed The Aristocrats, even though that movie came out ten years later.
Hey, that's more realistic than anything in this movie.
The maidenhead status of your ubergeek hosts Sherilyn Connelly, Annalee Newitz and Charlie Anders has not been determined.
Sunday,
October 28, 2007
(the amityville horror)
So it's come to this: a remake of a movie based on a "true story" which turned out to be hoax.
The original Amityville Horror was adapted from a book about an alleged haunting. 'cept it didn't happen.
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This Navel Is Based On A True Story. |
It's as much of a true story as Fargo or The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, which also claims to be based on a true story. Actually, that isn't fair. The original Chainsaw was heavily inspired by the Ed Gein case (also the loose basis for Psycho), whereas the remake was inspired by nothing more than the desire to watch fashion models posing in golden light.
And it's no surprise that both the Amityville and Chainsaw remakes both claim to be based on, or at least "inspired by," true stories.
Why? Because the film industry thinks you're stupid.
No, really. They do.
They they think that if they splap the words "true story" on any pile of hogwash, you, the rabble, the moviegoing public, will turn out in droves.
But we know the real true story, don't we?
You're smart, so you'll come to Bad Movie Night to make fun of it.
Jim Fourniadis, Geekboy and your other hosts are not based on a true story.
Sunday,
October 21, 2007
(the texas chainsaw massacre)
This week's feature offers yet another example of why remakes aren't all bad: such pretty, pretty people.
If you've seen the original version of the The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, you probably don't remember the gritty quasi-documentary style, the emphasis on psychological terror instead of violence (despite the film's reputation, there's very little gore), or the brilliant use of noise and dissonance on the soundtrack to create an unsettling mood.
Nah. You only remember how ugly and annoying the characters were.
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Sir Not Appearing In This Film. |
Especially the guy in the wheelchair. (No, not Christopher Reeve.) Didn't he just drive you apeshit? That whiny voice, that accent, the way he said "those two old sheds?"
Admit it: you were happy when he died, since it meant you wouldn't have to listen to him or see his unpleasant face anymore.
It's okay. You can tell us. We promise to let anyone know how insensitive you are. Your secret is safe with us, you elitist bastard.
Fortunately, the producers of the remake knew better. Nobody in a wheelchair, nobody fat. There's a guy with glasses, but after Napoleon Dynamite, that's kinda hip, right?
Even the weasel-faced guy who got to shtup Lauren Ambrose in Six Feet Under is kinda sexy.
The movie itself sucks, but who cares?
Pretty people with glisteny bodies! Bared midriffs! Well-groomed stubble!
Sherilyn Connelly will not be baring her midriff and Phil Darnowsky's stubble will not be well-groomed, but their snark will be glisteny.
Sunday,
October 14, 2007
(that movie where paris hilton gets killed)
Continuing with our premise from last week: remakes are not inherently a bad thing.
When remakes suck, it's because most movies suck, period. Sometimes a remake is better than the original, because the original kind of sucked. And while the remake may not be great, it may suck
less than the original. Chances are, though, they're both lousy. (This is Sherilyn's theory, and she has a film degree from San Francisco State University, so she's right about everything.)
Anyway, the current wave of remakes isn't so bad, because it gave us this movie.
You already know that Paris Hilton gets killed in it. That's all anyone knows about this movie, or really needs to.
We heartily encourage you to come on down, pay your five bucks, and cheer on her death. Or pay your five bucks, turn around and leave. Just pay up, damnit!
But what if you don't have anything against this misunderstood heiress? What if you have no desire to see her kick it?
Then we suggest you listen to her podcast, recorded during the publicity tour for this movie.
It's imaginatively titled "The Paris Hilton Podcast," and it may well be the single most annoying, stupid thing ever foisted on the int0rwebz.
Seriously. Listen to it for a few minutes—that horrible theme song, the goddamn dog barking, the icepick-in-the-eardrum quality of her voice, her sheer vapidity—and you'll be rooting for her to meet a gruesome demise.
Disclaimer: in spite of the poster, there is no bukkake in this film.
Your hosts Jim Fourniadis, Pete Goldie, and Geekboy dare you to cheer louder than them at the big moment.
Sunday,
October 7, 2007
(the fog)
First off, if we may take issue with our own premise: remakes get a bad rap.
People say remakes are lazy and a sign of creative bankruptcy, and why can't Hollywood come up with any new ideas?
Here's the thing: remakes are not new. Movies were being remade as early as the 1920s. Like any other work of art, a film by defintion is a product of its time, and remaking an existing work for a new generation of viewers is a hallowed tradition. Hitchock made The Man Who Knew Too Much twice, feeling that he didn't really nail it until the second try.
So-called purists complain about John Carpenter's movies being remade (Halloween, Assault on Precinct 13, this week's feature); I wonder if they'll bitch when The Thing inevitably gets remade—if so, they'll be conveniently ignoring the fact his "original" version was, in fact, a remake.
The Ten Commandments and The Wizard of Oz were both remakes. Are you getting the point?
The fact is, when a remake sucks, it's not because remakes are inherently sucky. It's because the vast majority of movies suck, period.
And that's where we come in.
So we give you a month of movies which which would suck even if they weren't remakes.
Your hosts Sherilyn Connelly, Geekboy, and the Reverend Steven Johnson Leyba are going to miss Adrienne Barbeau in a big way.
Sunday,
September 30, 2007
(grindhouse: death proof)
It was a good idea on paper. But then again, so was Four Rooms.
Robert Rodridguez and The Other Guy would each make a super-trashy Z-movie in homage to the sort of exploitation films that played at seedy movie theaters known as grindhouses, before home video rendered them irrelevant. It's a genre of movie which also played at drive-in theaters, of which there were many more in existence than grindhouses, but Drive-In Theater doesn't have the same ring to it as Grindhouse.
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"sorry, but i don't have the gun-leg in this one." |
The two movies would be shown as a double feature. Less famous (but probably more talented) directors like Rob Zombie and Simon Pegg would make fake trailers to go in between the two movies, and it would be fleshed out with authentic and now our feature presentation-type interstitials from grindhouses. Well, more likely they were scavenged from drive-in theaters, but work with us here, people.
So they did it, and it was good. Well, sorta good. Robert Rodriguez made a highly entertainging homage to zombie movies which features special effects far beyond the budget of the average seventies horror movie—the entire filmography of Al Adamson probably cost less than ten seconds of Rose McGowan's CGI gun-leg. But it was fun and fast-paced and starred people of color from Six Feet Under and Lost.
Problem: that was just the first half.
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"let's pretend your name is kate." |
The Other Guy made a plodding, super-talky homage to car-fetish movies like Eat My Dust or Two-Lane Blacktop or...what's that other one? Vanishing Point. Yeah. Vanishing Point. Hard to miss, considering that what feels like three-quarters of the dialogue is the characters talking about frickin' Vanishing Point. (Christ. At least Rodriguez didn't have his characters being all "Gosh, isn't this just like Dawn of the Dead and The Texas Chainsaw Massacre?")
The fact that the cast is primarily composed of femme hotties proves something we'd suspected all along: eye candy does not make up for bad, meandering dialogue which goes nowhere and says nothing.
There are a couple of car chases, including one at the end which is pretty great, but by the time the movie gets there you'll want to go play in traffic.
Anyway, we're only going to be showing one of the two movies—and it ain't the one with Rose McGowan as a stripper with the gun-leg thing.
Yes, yes, we know—your hosts Sherilyn Connelly, Mike Spiegelman, and Geekboy are just jealous. Yeah, that must be it.
Sunday,
September 23, 2007
(sin city)
Long overdue for a critical evaluation, this film is unfairly marginalized in Martin Scorsese's oeuvre as another generic mob movie.
Released in 1995 between The Age of Innocence and Kundun, the presence of Robert DeNiro and Joe Pesci playing characters superficially similar to their characters from GoodFellas often results in an unfair charge of being a retread of that picture.
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"my forehead vein will kick your ass." |
In fact, it's a powerful and sobering look at loyalty and honor among thieves set against a the backdrop of Las Vegas during its mob-run heyday. It's also a portrait of unchanging men in a changing world, similar in theme to Sam Peckinpah's The Wild Bunch—which is homaged by the presence of character actor and Peckinpah regular L.Q. Jones.
The true revelation is found in the performance of Sharon Stone, who brings a subtlety and nuance to her character which—
Oh, hell. Scratch that. Wrong movie.
This is the one by Robert Rodiguez starring Bruce Willis and Mickey Rourke (what the hell?), based on a comic book by Frank Miller, with Quentin Tarantino listed as "Special Guest Director." And what movie wouldn't benefit from the addition of a director whose specialty is people sitting around talking about nothing at all for what feels like hours at a time?
Our bad. Never mind.
Hosted by Jim Fournaidis, Geekboy, John Harrison and other yellow bastards.
Sunday,
September 16, 2007
screenshot ganked from dvd times
(four rooms)
It went like this.
Alexandre Rockwell (who?) won the Sundance Grand Jury Prize in 1992 for In the Soup. Yeah, we've never heard of it, either. Among the films it beat out was Reservoir Dogs, by some lantern-jawed schmuck.
Said lantern-jawed schmuck's next movie, Pulp Fiction, is a big hit. (Everyone in the universe loved it except for Sherilyn, who found it boring and pointless, and whose fondest memory of it seeing it in the theater was the trailer for Clerks beforehand.) He becomes a cultural icon, and the next movie by Alexandre Rockwell (who?) doesn't do so well.
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"my career?
MY CAREER?
Untouched.
Un-fucking-
touched." |
But Rockwell (who?) gets a brilliant idea: he and the lantern-jawed schmuck will codirect a film together with two other indie directors, Robert Rodriguez and Allison Anders (who?).
Even better, they'll each direct a segment, in the tradition of classic anthology movies such as...um...er...oh! The 1983 Emilio Estevez classic Nightmares, which Tarantino could surely expond at length about, or the neo-blaxploitation horror classic Tales from the Hood. Okay, sure, it came out six months earlier, but still. Could have happened.
And they'd get actors who've worked with them before and/or owe them favors (Antonio Banderas, Tim Roth) and actresses with whom they were involved with and/or wanted to fuck (Jennifer Beals, Madonna). Add in some wacky hijinks, and whaddaya got?
A really, really, really bad movie. Man, it is just so not good, and it was a big flop besides.
Rodriguez and the lantern-jawed schmuck kept making movies that people heard of, much to the delight of Bad Movie Night audiences. The other two directors...um...who were they, again?
Half-off admission if you bring a towel stolen from a hotel.
Your SRO hosts are Sherilyn Connelly, Mike Spiegelman, and birthday girl Rimma Dreyband.
Sunday,
September 9, 2007
screenshot ganked from dvdactive
(from dusk till dawn)
George Clooney is my boyfriend.
Shut up! Yes, he is is!
Stop looking at him! I saw him first!
Jim Fourniadis and his cohosts better stop looking at my boyfriend.
Sunday,
September 2, 2007
(full-tilt boogie)
Rodriguez/Tarantino month begins the way it will end: with a whimper.
This isn't so much a movie as a vanity project, and not in the way that Catwoman or Battlefield Earth were, either. It's more like Glitter.
This is a documentary shot during the making of From Dusk Till Dawn to show what geniuses Tarantino and friends are. Mostly, except for Rodriguez, they just come off like assholes.
Yeah, I know. Quentin Tarantino? An asshole? Alert Ripley.
Your hosts Sherilyn Connelly, Mike Spiegelman and Geekboy are not Teamsters.
Sunday,
August 26, 2007
screenshot ganked from caped wonder
(superman iii)
Most sci-fi geeks know that Eddie Murphy was almost in Star Trek IV.
Wiser heads prevailed; Paramount realized that smooshing two of their golden geese together wasn't such a swell, idea, and Murphy decided to make The Golden Child instead. (We'll get to that in our inevitable Eddie Murphy month.)
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"freebasing is still a better high." |
By all accounts, however, it didn't occur to anyone that shoehorning a comedian into an existing sci-fi franchise had already proven to be a bad idea.
Five words: Richard Pryor in Superman III.
Ol' Jo Jo Dancer plays a wacky computer genius who...oh, does it really matter? It's a Richard Pryor comedy with Superman in it here and there, not to mention Clark Kent's mom from Smallville playing grown-up Clark's love interest. Ah, the MILFy goodness.
In the ultimate dis, Pryor received a then-astronomical four million dollars to be in the movie, yet when the film was recently re-released on DVD, he was notably absent from the cover. Hell, even Nuclear Man is on the Superman IV cover.
I guess they know what the kids really wanna see is Robert Vaughn with an open shirt. Still, that's gotta hurt. It's a good thing Pryor's dead.
In addition to wheelchair jokes (Sherilyn was in a wheelchair for a year, so that makes it all right), freebasing and self-immolation jokes are encouraged.
Richard would have wanted it that way.
Your hosts Jim Fourniadis and Geekboy ate the brown Kryptonite.
Sunday,
August 19, 2007
screenshots ganked from the agony booth
(superman iv: the quest for peace)
When the mighty fall, they fall hard. And we're there to point and laugh.
The first two Superman movies were hits, both financially and critically. The third? Not so much on either score. (We'll get to that one next week.)
The original producers as well as the stars were sick of making the movies by that point, so Warner Bros. gave a decent budget and the keys to the series to Bad Movie Night's favorite studio: low-budget schlockmeisters Golan-Globus, at Cannon Films.
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pillow fight! |
They lured Christopher Reeve back by allowing him to have story input, resulting in a crypto-fascist tale in which Superman decides to rid the world of nuclear weapons. They got Gene Hackman back by giving him a lot of money. Scratch that: a lot of money.
So where did the rest of the money go?
According to Christopher Reeve (I forget where I read this, but it was on the internet, so it must be true), Golan-Globus siphoned off at least half of the budget to other projects, such as previous Bad Movie Night feature Masters of the Universe. Hey, keeping Billy Barty's trailer supplied with hookers and blow ain't cheap. You try it sometime.
Wherever the money went, it ain't on the screen. Though the strings holding up Nuclear Man are.
Oh, yeah. The Big Bad? Nuclear Man. Played by Mark Pillow.
This can't possibly be emphasized enough: Nuclear Man. Played by Mark Freakin' Pillow.
We love you, Golan-Globus.
With vintage Superman cartoons The Mechanical Monsters and The Japoteurs.
Your hosts Sherilyn Connelly, Rimma Dreyband, and Phil Darnowsky will be armed with Kryptonite snark.
Sunday,
August 12, 2007
(mighty morphin power rangers: the movie)
The Pink Ranger (not pictured above) is a hottie.
Whew! Glad we got that out of the way.
As we discussed at length when we did Masters of the Universe, children's teevee has long been nothing but commericals for toys. One parental advocacy group is even upset that toys based on Michael Bay's Transformers movie are being marketed to children.
Think about that one for a sec.
Anyhow. Back in the day, Mighty Morphin Power Rangers got a lot of flak for being a super-cheaply shot show about kids in colored spandex fighting off guys in rubber monster suits, all of which was intended to sell action figures and stuff. Which happened to be the truth.
So, when the inevitable movie (no more spandex, much to our beloved Rhiannon's chagrin) went to video, the producers tried to play it safe by putting the "theme" of the movie right at the top of the box, as if to say to parents, "See? We're not just selling junk? It has a message and stuff!"
Yeah. That worked.
The teamwork power of your hosts Jim Fournaidis, Geekboy, and Rhiannon Charisse will not overcome this bad, bad movie.
Sunday,
August 5, 2007
(catwoman)
 Some movies, you want to like.
We'd all been looking forward to the Catwoman movie ever since that last shot in Batman Returns.
This was also the first time a woman of color was the star of a big-budget action/adventure movie.
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"would you like rice or pitof with that?" |
And the woman was Oscar-winner Halle Berry, for Pete's sake. (We'll ignore for the moment the fact that the phrase "Oscar-winner" is also applicable to Cuba Gooding, Jr. and Jack Palance.) So what could go wrong?
Maybe a bad script, a ridiculous costume, Sharon Stone as the villain, and a Frenchy-pants one-word-named director called Pitof.
Seriously. Pitof? Is anyone else suddenly in the mood for tabouli, or it just me?
But we shouldn't make fun of his stupid name. Or his stubble.
Instead, we'll just make fun of his stupid movie, a big stinky cinematic hairball which was one of the biggest flops of 2004, barely earning half its $85M budget back. It's a safe bet that Beyoncé won't be playing Wonder Woman anytime soon.
At the 2005 Razzies, Catwoman won Worst Actress, Worst Director, Worst Picture and Worst Screenplay. Halle accepted her Razzie in person. She rules.
Even though Halle made it to the Razzies, Catwoman from Batman: The TV Show: The Play and
Lucky from Lovesick: The Cat Allergy Musical both have better things to do, so your hosts will be Sherilyn Connelly, Maura Sipila, and Mike Spiegelman.
Sunday,
July 29, 2007
(velvet goldmine)
 As always, we at Bad Sexy Movie Night strive to bring you the worst sexiest movies ever made.
This time, we've outdone ourselves with the badness sexiness.
Set in the glam-rock period of the early seventies, a pre-Star Wars Ewan McGregor is a mashup of Iggy Pop and Lou Reed, with a bit of Kurt Cobain mixed in.
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"like my saber, bruce?" |
Jonathan Rhys Meyers (who?) as...oh, who cares? He played Elvis in a teevee movie once but, the really bad sexy part is—
A pre-Batman Christian Bale as a reporter who loves them both, but gets it on with Ewan McGregor.
That's right. Batman, Obi-Wan Kenobi, and...my oh my...
Thus, we present a very bad sexy movie.
Your
hosts are Jim Fourniadis, John Harrison, and other Wylde Ratz of unusual size.
Sunday,
July 22, 2007
screenshot ganked from outnow
(fame)
 Ah-aaaaaaaaaah!
Duh. Sorry. That's from Flash Gordon. It's easy to get confused.
This is Alan Parker's movie about kids at the New York City High School for the Performing Arts in the late seventies, leading into that teevee series you vaguely remember. It's kind of a musical, and kind of not.
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hey, we're dancin' here! |
The weird part is that it is, as stated above, an Alan Parker film. His name tends to be associated with, shall we say, grittier movies—Angel Heart, Midnight Express, Mississippi Burning, that kind of thing.
Even Pink Floyd The Wall, which also falls into the "kind of a musical and kind of not" category. Stuff like the chest-shaving or Pink's hand going into the broken glass (owie!) at the end of "One of My Turns" puts it more into Angel Heart territory, to be sure.
But this same man also directed Evita, and this movie, and Bugsy Malone, in which teenagers Scott Baio and Jodie Foster play gangsters, and...yeah.
Be grateful it's only Fame.
Your
hosts Jim Fournaidis, Sean Owens and John Harrison may not live to the end of this movie.
Sunday,
July 15, 2007
screenshot ganked from retrocrush
(electric boogaloo: breakin' 2)
 Let's get this out of the way right now, shall we?
It's Electric Boogaloo: Breakin' 2, not Breakin' 2: Electric Boogaloo.
I don't care what the DVD or poster or even the title onscreen says, or that it was known as Breakdance 2 in foreign markets. The VHS box at the Video Zone in Fresno said Electric Boogaloo: Breakin' 2, and the VHS box is always right. Deal with it.
Anyway. Where were we?
Oh, yeah. This movie.
If Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band was made during the most Seventies-ish year of the Seventies (and, lordy, was it ever), then Electric Boogaloo is a product of the most Eighties-ish year of the Eighties, 1984.
And the only thing that screams "Eighties" more than breakdancing is Golan-Globus.
So, we bring you the second Golan-Globus breakdancing film.
Earplugs are recommended, because the neon clothes are LOUD.
Your
hosts Sherilyn Connelly, Rimma Dreyband and Mike Spiegelman can pop and lock.
Sunday,
July 8, 2007
screenshot ganked from dvdresurrections.org
(kiss meets the phantom of the park)
 The question from last week remains: what the hell was the deal with the Seventies?
The apocryphal story goes like this: KISS were the one of most popular bands in the world. (Okay, that part's not apocryphal.) Given their music and on-stage theatrics and general comic-book quality, making a movie seemed to be the next logical step. Kinda like Britney Spears a couple decades later with Crossroads.
They were offered the part of the Future Villain Band in last week's stinkburger, Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band.
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"i swear,
he said
he'd meet
us here..." |
Gene and the boys declined, being able to tell from a mile away that the movie would suck.
Besides, they had egos as big as their boots. They wanted to be the stars, with their name in the title and everything.
So they made Kiss Meets the Phantom of the Park instead.
Shot on location at Magic Mountain, and produced by Hanna-Barbera, who gave the world Scrappy-Doo.
And...yeah.
Gotta go with the "cocaine" theory on this one, too.
Your
hosts Jim Fournaidis, Geekboy and Sherilyn Connelly do not want to rock and roll all nite.
Sunday,
July 1, 2007
(sgt. pepper's lonely hearts club band)
 What the hell was the deal with the Seventies?
Seriously. The Fifties: postwar propserity leading to a xenophobia-induced, stifling conformity. Sucked at the time, but it makes enough sense.
The Sixties: a time of social upheaval, rebellion against the societal repressiveness of the Fifties, aided by the advent of readily available contraception and a public outcry against a war. Gotcha.
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do you
feel like
he does? |
Then, the Seventies. And this movie.
The Bee Gees and Peter Frampton as the band of the title, singing post-Revolver Beatles songs which have nothing to do with each other thematically or narratively, with George Burns (!) narrating the film as the Mayor of Heartland (!!), and even singing "Fixing a Hole" (the exclamation points have gone on strike).
Steve Martin singing "Maxwell's Silver Hammer." Alice Cooper doing "Because." The detective from all the Halloween movies singing "I Want You."
All of this and more in 1978, the most Seventies-ish year of the Seventies.
What the hell? Seriously, what the hell was going on back then?
Besides the cocaine.
Actually, that explains everything. Forget we asked.
Your
hosts Sherilyn Connelly, KROB and Geekboy are not guaranteed a splendid time.
HALE-BOPP
Brings Closure to:
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In the beginning—also known as the first Reagan Administration—there was Tron.
The best kinds of movies for us are the ones that fail miserably.
If you bought a DVD player around the turn of the century, there's a good chance you owned this movie.
We somehow survived Razzie month. Basic Instinct 2. Little Man. The Wicker Man. Even Lady in the Water—the narf vs. scrunt movie, for frack's sake.
And if that doesn't you suicidal, the animal-cracker sex will.
Worst Supporting Actor, and Worst Director, both for director/writer/actor/egomaniac M. Night Shyamalan.
You gotta admit, the alien transmission coming through the baby monitor in Signs was pretty spooky. (And you just know that Mel Gibson was thinking to himself, "Well, the director's a godless heathen from a country that worships cows*, but at least he isn't a Jew.")
Worst Picture, Worst Actor, Worst Screenplay, Worst Remake and Worst Screen Couple.
None. They wuz robbed!
Just make it stop. Please.
No, no, no. This is not happening.
May is Razzie Month, in which we dishonor ourselves by showing the nominees
for Worst Picture of 2006.
Anyway, we start off with the winner of Worst Picture, Worst Actress, Worst Actress, Worst Screenplay.
Sure, he's a 
Meanwhile, hunky pilot Brad Johnson tries to convince his Hellbound daughter not to be so Hellbound.
We
tried. It can't be done.
If you want blood, you've got it.
There are even those who would say it's kinda hot. You know who you are.
And Satan is androgynous, because in Mel Gibson's world, nothing says "evil" more than not being entirely masculine or feminine.
The religious part of April gets underway with The Ten Commandments.
DeMille introducing his own damn movie. At least Spielberg settles for going on Oprah.
Anne Baxter rocking the Betty Page look something fierce. Mrrowr.
On March 27, 2005, Jim Fourniadis and Ty McKenzie unleashed Bad Movie Night on an unsuspecting world.
But your scorn fueled us, like the blood of Christian babies. Well, that fuels Sherilyn, anyway.
Duh.
Sorry. Got confused for a moment. 
Until Poltergeist, that is. After the scene with the guy ripping off his face, flies and voices saying "Get out!" just didn't seem so scary any more. (Not that they were scary in the first place.)
In fact, there wasn't much point to making haunted house movies at all...
By the early eighties the cycle was running dry, and the producers were desperate for some new gimmick to put asses in seats.
Instead, they went with an old gimmick: 3-D.
