Bad Movies And The Importance Of Sincerity

by HMNAdamMarch 16, 2017

Hi, I’m Adam. one third of the Geekscape podcast Horror Movie Night. I want to talk to you today about a matter that is near and dear to my heart: Bad Movies.

As long as I can remember I have loved bad movies. My love for garbage dates back to a little locally owned movie rental store in my town called “Have You Seen?” This particular shop put its movies in very specific sections: French, Noir, French Noir, UK television, Adult Comedies and so forth. But the section that captured my interest the most from the first day I walked in was “Exploitation/Extreme And Bad Movies”. This section lead me a lot of places in my life – It helped nurture my love of horror, my love of shock cinema, and helped me discover some of my favorite films. But that’s not why we’re here.

Now my journey began the same as many shit afficiandos with Tommy Wiseau’s “The Room”. We’ll touch on that later, as it has been talked to death. From there, I then found Jon Waters’ “Pink Flamingos”. A movie no sane person would call a masterpiece, but a movie that I think is important to understand where we’re going from here.

I hated Pink Flamingos the first time I tried to watch it. In fact, I turned it off when I got to the chicken sex scene. I came back to it again, and with time grew to understand what Waters was trying to do here. He’s making shock cinema, to offend the senses of those not within his particular circle, and to entertain those who are. I think Waters’ circle has grown a lot since the production, which is something I doubt he expected. Now it isn’t just Drag Queens and gays and 1970’s social outsiders who are privvy to Jon’s weird world, it’s people like 16 year old me, sitting in a basement watching a mans anus open and close to “Surfin’ Bird” and a man dressed as a woman eating fresh dog shit.

Now if those things sound unappealing to you, you’re right. They are. If you wonder what type of movie would prominently feature scenes like these: a bad one. But a bad movie made by friends for friends and in jest and with a helping handful of irony. But it exists in a weird paradox of being both sarcastic and sincere. The ideas of the movie, acting, the plot are sarcastic and biting. But the drive behind putting them to film are sincere. A fuck you to the social norm and a welcoming to the freaks of the world. Thats what drew me in, thats what brought me back.

Bad movies, the good breed of bad movies, are made with sincere intentions.

The Room is now known worldwide. It’s shown in theatres in every country with fanfare and involement. Its been opened up to a huge audience because people understand the context behind it. Wiseau made The Room with the intention of making a moving, heartfelt masterpiece. Instead he produced a movie of wooden automatons having awkward sex behind the back of an alien Jesus figure.

But with the knowledge tommy posseses now, I fear for his follow up: Best Friends Movie. Made with Room star Greg Sestero, this comes after the release of Gregs book Disaster Artist that details The Room phenomenom and the making of a movie about it. Will this knowledge affect how Tommy makes this new film? Will it lose its sincerity? If we take a look at other example you’ll see it almost always does.

https://youtu.be/P-y53CRSF9Q

Birdemic: Shock and Terror is out and out garbage. That people took their time to commit one minute of it to film is a testament to humanity’s lack of true purpose in the universe. But it’s also one of the most baffilingly amusing movies you may ever see (do yourself a favor and skip past the opening credits). James Nguyen thought that he was making an impactful statement on our effect on the enviroment, and his urge to virtue signal was so strong that he ignored all other logic in his quest. Clip art bird effects litter the screen, which im sure he assumed would look better in post. I’m also sure that upon seeing the final effect he thought the message of the film would shine through. So strong was his sincerity in his vision that he allowed it to pass standard and make it in the final product, and for that I salute him.

I also say fuck him because Birdemic 2 came out and it was the EXACT. SAME. THING.

His knowledge that his message failed but his failure succeeded lead him down a path of insincerity to try and rest on the laurels of his accidental trainwreck masterpiece. He lost the entire reason and heart that made the first one watchable.

Kung Fury is a bad movie. I may be in the minority here but I feel it is a bad movie in all respects, and I find no qaulities redeeming. It wears a sneer of sarcasm on its face from second one, it makes references for no other reason than to make them, it fails to have a reason for its being other than “Look how silly and random this is”. I don’t feel it was made with a sincere message behind it, or with a sincere spirt. I feel like it was written by people laughing at the stupidity of it, throwing any ideas out and letting them stick without giving them any purpose or second thought. “Tricera-cop sounds funny and the effect will look funny, so do it.” They went in with the idea to make a “bad” movie, and it failed.

If you want an actual love letter to the eighties, and their beautiful absurdity, watch “Turbo Kid”. Many everyday moviegoers would consider bad, but it was made with so much heart and reverence that it is immpossibly charming.

Often a bad movie is wonderful simply because of your perception of it. Deep Blue Sea was meant to be a heart pounding thrill ride but if you root for the sharks its a hilarious story of revenge perpetrated by bird eating, oven operating monsters. The Happening is supposed to be a horrifying look at a worldwide disaster but if you don’t take it too seriously its a movie about whacky ways to suicide, conversations about hot dogs and running from the breeze. Zardoz is supposed to be a deep look into social hierarchies, but if you look at is as a bad attempt to explain the deep meaning you found in an acid trip one time its far more enjoyable. “Yeah but like, the rich live forever and like, we’re the savages controlled by guns and like….oh shit I lost it.” Even the director doesn’t quite remember what his point was anymore.

These films had a sincere purpose and idea going in, but if you the viewer ignore and avoid it, you can create your own fun. Theres a whole world of impossibly good bad movies out there, and this article has only mentioned a few of the most well known ones. Dig deeper, find the sincerity that lurks beneath these supposedly bad movies, and see the joy in it.

Horror Movie Night – Episode 20: Spookies

by SaintmortNovember 21, 2015

Leave your logic at the door and don’t forget to wipe your feet, cuz this week we’re discussing Spookies! From the worst birthday surprises to farting muck men, there was a lot of WTF to cover, but Matt kept Scott and Adam from wandering too far into the spookiest house of horrors 1986 cinema could muster. Grab the Beano, it’s Horror Movie Night!

Feel free to join in discussion at on our Facebook Group or in the comments below.

Also subscribe to our podcast on Soundcloud and iTunes

Guilty Pleasures: Saturday the 14th Strikes Back

by SaintmortSeptember 24, 2012

If you’re my around my age (22-31) you grew up in a magical time where channels like HBO, Showtime and Cinemax were a new and exciting channel. Like many of us who grew up in those days you would see some weird movies on those channels. Due to being a new channel they could only get strange movies at first. Movies like Killer Klowns From Outer Space, Re-Animator, Freaked and Little Monsters.

There was one particular film I always remembered but the title escaped me. All I ever remembered about the movie was that (a) smoke rose from the house, (b) a couch ate someone and (c) the kid gets nailed into a coffin. When the internet first started to become a viable source of information I’d search website after website for some clue as to what this mystery movie was. It wasn’t until one day on the badmovies.org forums when I finally got a lead. Someone said it was either Saturday the 14th or it’s sequel Saturday the 14th Strikes Back, but they warned me that they’re pretty terrible.

Now I’m not going to say this particular movie is “good” but it’s certainly better than the original. The film doesn’t follow any characters or plot points of the first Saturday the 14th but instead is a random and slapsticky comedy/horror in the same realm as Attack of the Killer Tomatoes.

Our main character is 16 year old Eddie Baxter. His family moves into a new house that they inherited from his uncle. The house has cracks in the basement where smoke is constantly rising. Eddie realizes that this smoke contains various evil demons with in it. These demons possess his family members as well as bring random pieces of furniture to life and allows various monsters to reside in the house. Eventually Eddie is the only member of the family left without being possessed. It’s up to him to save the family (and the entire world).

You know that when the biggest names in your horror film are Ray Walston and Avery Schreiber that you’ve got a movie that’s 90% comedy and 10% horror. Sadly 90% of that comedy fails to actually provide laughs. However there are also points where the absurdity levels reach a point where you have no option but to chuckle at the straight faced way that they deliver the more insane moments.

This is definitely a film that basically survives strictly on nostalgia. If you watch this movie having grew up with it you’ll know that it’s bad but you’ll be overwhelmed by the memories of the film. You’ll know it’s bad but you won’t care.

The film isn’t completely terrible though. There’s some cool looking puppets as well as entertaining stop motion throughout. There’s something moderately charming about the fact that the film never takes a second to stop. It’s one bad gag and bad joke after another. While the film doesn’t hold the same level of “so bad it’s good” praise that a Troll 2 or Plan 9 will receive it’s probably the only film where you get to see a werewolf spy on an olympic gold medalist in the shower.

This Geek in Netflix: BreadCrumbs

by AllisonnnnnMay 30, 2012

Some weeks it feels like I just can’t win the horror movie lottery, no matter how many tickets I purchase. Not only did I buy the ticket this week, I also managed to fall asleep when they were calling the winning numbers—not that my numbers were the lucky ones.

These socks remind me of every Max Hardcore film ever made.

Okay, this metaphor is going on far too long. So, if you didn’t get it: I watched another bad horror movie and it bored me to tears. ARE YOU HAPPY NOW?! Fuck, stop forcing my inner literary student off the symbolic road.

In 2011 (last year, for those of you who aren’t keeping track… of time!!), Industrial Motion Pictures released the vaguely Hansel und Gretel-themed film, BreadCrumbs. No, that “und” is not a typo. Go read a book or something.

This is what happens to you when you don't read.

If you don’t remember, Hansel und Gretel was a Grimm Brothers story featuring—you guessed it—two children named Hansel and Gretel who, through all the variations of the tale, basically wound up being left in the woods by some adult (who was occasionally related to them) and one of the kids, while being taken to his/her leafy fate, left a trail of bread crumbs behind them. Unfortunately, the bread crumbs were eaten by birds, the kids found some sort of witchy dwelling (typically a house made of candy), and then were captured by a witch who wanted to do horrible things to them.

This has next to nothing to do with this movie other than some references that briefly pay homage to the classic tale. So why did I recount this highly memetic tale that you probably already knew? Frustration. It’s this amazingly classic tale with all these wonderful tropes to work with and the finished product of BreadCrumbs falls terribly short of expectations.

Except for this scene. Expectations = totally met.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

BreadCrumbs tells the story of Angie (Marianne Hagan), a MILFy porn star in every sense of the word—save that she has no actual offspring. Which means that, basically, she’s an older performer who now gets contracted to do MILF-themed and cougar-themed porn. (Who knows too much about porn? This chick.)

Angie and her co-workers have decided to rent a cabin in the woods (no relation to the movie Cabin in the Woods) and film an adult movie (aka: porn). So we have the creepy camera guy (Jim Barnes), the doubtfully straight make-up artist (Shira Weitz), the annoying director (Mike Nichols – also this film’s director), the producer (Darbi Worley), and four other performers (Zoe Sloane, Alana Curry, Douglas Nyback, and Steve Carey).

Uh, like, yeah, this bathrobe is so Fall/Winter 2012.

Unfortunately, even with this fairly visually accurate crew, the script failed to provide any sense of realism of a porn set to those of us who have been on them. More on that later.

While in the woods, the group comes across two “kids”—Patti and Henry—who seem to be rather insane and out of place. After handling them oddly, the kids are dismissed from thought and it’s down to partying and filming. However, before they can really get down to business (*rimshot*), things begin to go awry and one of the performers ends up being really well hung.

By the neck, people! By the neck!!

Was it the kids? Was it the wielder of what sounds to be some sort of electric trimmer in the distance? Don’t worry—Scooby and the gang will find out!

When this movie wasn’t boring me to pieces, I was either busy yelling at the screen about basic realism (on so many levels, so many levels—what porn star shrieks and covers her chest when she sees someone watching her film a scene??) or moping that a movie that had the beginnings of a solid concept behind it failed so miserably script-wise to deliver.

The casting of the children did not help either—the dialogue and interpersonal interactions showed a clear relationship between adults and what should have been nine-year-olds, but the people who were cast were in their late teens which caused incredibly heavy dissonance.

Recommendation? Avoid. I could see some of the actors and, yes, even the director, doing some good things—but this isn’t one of them. Between the miscasting of the “children” and the thoroughly unresearched script, this film was sadly doomed to failure.

But if you want to experience this for yourself you can, as always, find it on Netflix Instant.

This Geek in Netflix: 2-Headed Shark Attack

by AllisonnnnnApril 11, 2012

If you’re anything like me, you lay awake at night pondering deeply philosophical questions. Am I the sum of my experiences? If I had chronic amnesia, would I lose all sense of who I am as a person, or would there still be a core sort of self? What could be the worst possible time for a two-headed shark to attack?

I can’t answer the first two questions, but now I can answer the third. No, it’s not during a massive volcano eruption, nor during a meteor shower and, yes, while being the middle of a human centipede and being attacked by a two-headed shark would be really inconvenient, I can say without a doubt that the worst time for a mutant shark attack would be on Opposite Day.

Spring Break at the donkey show is always a mixed bag.

Earlier this year, The Asylum, a production company with a tendency to release low budget movies with similar themes to upcoming blockbusters, released 2-Headed Shark Attack. This, mind you, is the same company that brought us such fine films as Mega Shark v.s. Crocosaurus, #1 Cheerleader Camp, and Snakes on a Train. (Trivia tidbit: their latest, Nazis at the Center of the Earth, is set to release on the 24^th of this month. Premiere party at Jonathan London’s house!)

This must-see film doesn’t only feature a massive two-headed shark, but also features performances by Carmen Electra (Carmen Electra’s Aerobic Striptease), Charlie O’Connell (Sliders’ Colin Mallory), and Brooke Hogan (Mrs. Hulk Hogan’s womb). The cast, I will admit, might be more alarming than the shark.

How do these actors all come together to form the magical film that graces our presence today? So glad you asked—otherwise this article would have ended prematurely, and I hate it when action is halted by someone being premature. In this wild tale of fantasy, Dr. Babish (Electra) and Professor Babish (O’Connell) take a boatload of college kids out on… a boat. What else are you going to carry a boatload of kids on?

As female characters are slowly being established as entities independent of their breasts, the corpse of a mega-mouth shark, a species that is normally consigned to the depths of the ocean with Amy Winehouse begin to surface. This dead fish inconveniences the Babishes and their little army of castaways when it gets stuck in the ship’s propeller and begins to jettison a trail of little bloody bits behind them as they bob along, summoning the two-headed shark right to their lido deck.

Angry at not being allowed into the sunbathing area due to inappropriate attire, the mutant shark rams the side of the vessel, causing the hull to crack and water to seep in. It is at this time that Opposite Day is announced. Talk about timing, right?

This is the best shot in the movie and my new desktop wallpaper.

How to handle Opposite Day during a shark attack:

Have the captain of the ship loudly announce how the boat is sinking, the radio is broken, and everyone is, essentially, fucked. Following that, evacuate the ship to a nearby island with well-kept buildings, groomed pathways, and the occasional electrical outlet. While wandering these fenced paths, make sure everyone loudly complains about how the island has no sign of recent human life and that there might be cannibals.

While the ship starts to sink, insert a montage of Carmen Electra doing vaguely erotic poses as she sunbathes in order to keep the feeling of action and intensity at its highest peak. Oh, wait, that’s when it’s Opposite Day for the director! I’m going to insert awkward laughter here and get back to the movie.

We quickly learn that the shark is not subject to the laws of Opposite Day or physics—while the kids roam the island getting into nonsensical conversations with emotional outbursts that make very little sense, the twenty-foot long shark begins to slam its body into the island, causing quakes to rock the several mile wide island as pieces begin to fall off and cracks show on the surface.

What will they do?! They can’t go into the water because there’s a two-headed shark, and they can’t stay on the island because it’s falling to pieces due to the shark’s amorous affections! It’s the ultimate catch-22! The horror, the tension, the… oh, fuck it, I can’t keep this fake interest up.

I’d like to go more into this movie, about how the remaining few survivors at the end of the film somehow set a t-shirt hanging out of a gas can on fire with a Zippo… while underwater, or about how the anchored – and supposedly sinking— ship constantly varies its distance from the island. One hundred feet, two miles, what’s the difference when a boat race is going on?

But what I’d really like to talk about is how this movie consistently fails to keep the most basic levels of realism. How can a girl on one side of the island see what’s going on on the other side of the island? How can a group of people on the shore see a shark swimming underwater two miles away? How can a speedboat race along for thirty seconds, only to wind up five feet from its starting point? How could this movie have passed anyone’s quality control?

FUCK.

I hate this movie. I’m all about B-movies, I really am. Nazis under the earth? Hell, yes. A car that runs solely on human blood? Definitely. Sharks with scorpion tails and prehensile tongues? If I’m watching porn, sure.

But I can’t do this. I need the laws of physics to be obeyed, especially if biology is being so delightfully disregarded. This movie lives on others’ suffering and a complete disregard of the natural order of things, like eyeline matching and reality. Carmen Electra, a doctor?? Who would believe that? The only redeeming thing in this movie is the opening scene. They blew their sharky load in the first three minutes.

Totally embarrassed about premature load blowing.

I want to shoot someone. I want to find out which exact people are responsible for this mess and I want to take away whatever guild cards they may have and ship them out to Ohio where they can live as corn farmers and won’t be able to do any more harm.

So if you feel like being horribly disappointed, if you feel like screaming at your television, if you feel like designing a drinking game around Opposite Day that is sure to kill you (He leaps out of the boat to get away from the shark?? Take a drink!), fire this film up. I’ve done my best to dissuade you while staying under five thousand words— your suffering is no longer my responsibility.

This Geek in Netflix: Shark Attack 3: Megalodon

by AllisonnnnnApril 4, 2012

I’m full of roiling hate, oceans of roiling hate containing gigantic sharks with teeth bigger than my rather immense forehead—which is appropriate, given the movie that Matt Kelly suggested I watch this week.

Shark Attack 3: Megalodon is a frightening example of what can happen when your sound guy runs amok with his dubbing. I fear for my safety, I fear for the safety of my never-to-be-existent children, that one day they may find themselves unable to speak, only able to laugh like assholes whenever someone of a different race speaks to them.

Directed by David Worth (Lady Dragon, Lady Dragon II), written by the duo who brought you the previous two Shark Attack movies (Scott Devine and William Hooke), this steaming pile of krill was released straight to video in 2002, allowing it to bypass the average person’s radar (lucky, lucky average person).

What was the average person missing? Actors John Barrowman (Torchwood’s Captain Jack Harkness), Jenny McShane (um…), and Ryan Cutrona (24’s Admiral John Smith and Mad Men’s Gene Hoftstadt) doing battle with a giant shark. Sounds pretty amazing, right? We get somebody to zap in a torpedo-rigged TARDIS right into the belly of the beast, BOOM, no problem.

Well, that’s not what happens. So much for your connections, Barrowman.

The end of every James Bond movie I've ever seen.

This feast of a film opens with a brief, barely related, and completely unnecessary prologue where a diver for Apex Communications falls prey to a drive-by sharking. What this bit of background establishes for us is two things: 1) there’s a shark 2) while the movie may have been released in 2002, it was clearly shot in the 1970s.

Moving past that near-useless opening, we are introduced to Colima, Mexico’s Playa Del Rey Resort, manned and visited by robotic beings programmed with an unendingly creepy laugh track. These robots, should they be of a feminine appearance, do not have the capacity of language and only communicate with their brethren with various combinations of moans, cooing, and sounds of surprise. As for the males, the standard issue models are able to form simple sentences regarding their female counterparts, each sentence punctuated by mechanical laughter.

Unfortunately for these robots, a robot-eating shark has decided to spent some time at the resort’s beaches and soak up some rays and munch on some communications cable—you know, typical shark activities.

Unfortunately for this shark, Captain Jack Harkness is on the case.

Wait, what? Not Harkness??? What, just some douche named Ben and a paleontologist who could only pass for Laura Dern on account on blondness? Fuck this movie.

Not-Harkness (Barrowman) and Not-Dern (McShane) team up with some aging ex-Navy guy (Cutrona) and flounce around Colima ogling the scads of bare breasts while uncovering shark-hiding conspiracies set in place by heads of greedy corporations.

What’s the conspiracy?, I will pretend you cared enough to ask. Apex Communications is laying down miles and miles of communications cable underwater with the hope of wrangling billions of dollars from an international market, but there’s a problem… the cables emit such electricity that they’re waking up dinosaur sharks.

Okay, not “dinosaur sharks” like in ScyFy’s Dinoshark, but really big, supposedly extinct sharks called megalodons. And these megalodons are attacking the shit out of anyone who happens to be in the area when they stroll down the cable route. Yes, attacking the shit out of them. It’s part of the circle of life, just accept it.

Apex has learned about this side effect of their cables and, instead of doing something like taking care of the problem, they’ve decided to just keep on with it and either someone else will kill the sharks or they’ll eventually run out of customers. Either or.

Exhibit A: Man who was, indeed, attacked the shit out of.

With all of this asinine stupidity in place, there are four very redeeming parts of this movie.

1. A baby Megalodon decides to grab the rope of a helpless paraglider and slowly drags her kicking and screaming into the ocean where it can chomp her to little bits.

2. Caught in the midst of a ship cabin panty raid, Not-Dern pumps a round of lead directly into the thieving baby Megalodon’s mouth. Immediately before this moment, Not-Harkness is seen whacking the shark’s nose with a baseball bat, screaming “Die, die, die!!”

3. After wrapping up their shark-assassination plan, the charming and suave Not-Harkness says, “I’m really wired. What do you say that I take you home and eat your pussy?”

4. Mama Megalodon wakes up and starts eating boats. Please see the pictures below, as words cannot possibly wrap around the concept of how awesome this is.

In sum, this movie isn’t great. The first three-quarters of an hour is pretty tedious and entirely worth skipping, but once those forty-five minutes pass, even Disney can’t generate this kind of movie magic. So if you’re feeling like sharking it up tonight and getting your Megalodon on, sink your hundreds of pointy teeth into this baby on Netflix on Demand.

This Geek in Netflix: Birdemic

by AllisonnnnnMarch 28, 2012

Early this week, Mr. Matt Kelly said, “Hey, Allison, you should review Birdemic for your weekly column. It’ll be great!” And me, being the innocent and so naïve person that I am, trusted him and sat down to watch it.

What I thought would be an experience of greatness, of a bad movie along the lines of so many other bad movies that I love, turned out to be the equivalent of attending an eighth grade science fair where most of the children are severely autistic and prone to rocking back and forth while braiding lanyards and forcing them upon the hapless attendees, then shanking any male passersby if they are wearing Old Spice.

Birdemic was released in 2008, having spent a theoretical four years in production—the delay attributed to the slow personal funding of writer and director James Nguyen (Tidbit: the IMDB biography of Mr. Nguyen contains the phrase, “Also known as Master of Romantic Thrillers Among the new generation of auteurs in the 21st Century”), and panned with such incredible intensity that it became a cult classic.

Personally, I can’t imagine sitting through this film ever again, so to imagine that there’s a large group of people out there that actually enjoy watching this flaming pile of cloaca is quite difficult. Then to face myself with the task of hand writing letters to each of them explaining why they’re wrong… it’s rather daunting, but ultimately worth the effort.

This movie stars –and I use that term very, very loosely— Alan Bagh as the infinitely punchable software salesman, Rod, and Whitney Moore as the toothy fashion model, Nathalie. There some other “supporting casts”, but I’m not going to mention their names so they can begin to heal from the trauma of their experience.

Because of time constraints, and the sheer volume of rant I have on this movie, I’m going to attempt to limit myself to summarizing the first ten minutes of the film—which is great, because FOUR OF THOSE MINUTES are devoted to following dipshit Rod around in his blue mustang while the opening credits roll to a looped twenty second track that wishes it had been composed by Richard Band, but can’t quite claim to be of actual musical value.

The remaining six minutes introduce us to the incredible sound quality that will plague the rest of the movie: varying levels of sound, asinine levels of sound, sound that makes you want to learn to do post-production mixing so no one you truly care for will ever have to experience what you’re experiencing. Then if your senses weren’t feeling violated enough, Nguyen shoves a terrifying European waitress into view, who takes Rod’s order and, in a display of mercy not found often in this movie, disappears.

"Don't show fear, Nathalie, just don't show fear and maybe he'll go away."

While waiting for his bratwurst, Rod spots Nathalie and, as she flees because she feels him watching her like a total creep while she cuts her toast, he checks out her ass. After confirming her ass is of high quality, he suddenly realizes that she is the Girl For Him, leaving Helga heartbroken by doing a dine-and-dash and not even finishing the orange juice she so carefully poured for him.

Once he manages to catch up to his darling power-walker, awkward dialogue ensues. During this conversation, we discover that not only can he not act, he also is unable to hide his serial rapist nature. We are also able to confirm that, yes, he has never had sex in his life and likely never will.

"I'm gonna cut out her kidneys and use them for slippers."

Nathalie, sensing that she’s spending time in the company of a terrible actor, attempts to escape his company, but he chases her down once more and holds her at the vicious knife-point of painful awkwardness until she gives him her number.

So that’s about ten minutes, give or take a couple of minutes because I cannot bear to recount the details of this awful story any longer.

In sum, birds begin to indiscriminately attack the residents of Half Moon Bay by dropping bird bombs (not a euphemism—they’re actually exploding when they crash into buildings) on them, spraying them with acidic cloaca, or doing a fly-by tearing out of throats. Rod and Nathalie band together with another young couple and they take to the road, battling the birds and trying to save what little survivors remain in what appears to be some godawful birdocaplyse commercial for Greenpeace.

They used paper napkins, and now they must pay.

By studying this film, I’ve come up with a list of ten guidelines for those of us that will eventually be faced battling this fowl menace.

ALLISON’S SURVIVAL TIPS FOR SURVIVORS WHO WANT TO SURVIVE AN ATTACK FROM EXPLODING AVIANS THAT CHALLENGE THEIR SURVIVAL

1. Want to picnic on the cliffs or play on the beach during a bird attack? Go for it! Birds hate beaches!

2. You still need to follow basic traffic laws no matter how much your life may be in danger—there’s no excuse for dangerous driving.

3. If you happen to come across a group of people holed up in a bus, you should probably get them out of their safe environment—it’ll toughen them up.

4. It’s totally safe to leave your gas-filled car on the side of the road with the keys still in the ignition—no one will take it, especially during an emergency.

5. Hippies live in the woods and will dispense wisdom. They survive on tree bark, pine cones, and the beneficence of the Mother Goddess.

6. Gas isn’t that important to travel. Mom’s mini-van gets excellent mileage, so feel free to leave a few gallons behind—it’ll magically show back up in your car later.

7. It’s perfectly safe to drink water from a creek in the California woods—they’re totally unpolluted.

8. Convenience store clerks are devoted to their posts, and will not leave even during the birdacolypse, so don’t even think about snagging those Twinkies for free.

9. You’ll always know when to take cover, because when birds dive towards the ground they make missile noises and explode.

10. Don’t worry about stocking up on cash– even though the phone lines may be down, stores will still be able to accept your credit card.

Remember this face-- you'll be seeing it later tonight... at your window.

Now that you’re properly prepared for this avian devastation, I highly suggest that you never, never ever, NEVER watch this film. Do NOT queue it up on Netflix on Demand, do NOT subject yourself to the worst editing I’ve ever seen, do NOT watch the awkward, lingering transitions and the phone conversations that make you think that both parties are suffering from some sort of brain degradation. Pick another movie, hell, pick Troll 2 or Thankskilling—both of which Netflix offered up as suitable alternatives to this flick.

Just stay the flock away, and if you do decide to sit down and witness this debeakal, you’ll definitely egret it.

This Geek in Netflix: Ghosts of Goldfield

by AllisonnnnnMarch 6, 2012

Rarely do I get stir-crazy and bored while watching horror movies. There’s nearly always something redemptive about them, whether it be a great scene (Ghost Ship, I’m looking at you), a great soundtrack, or hysterically bad acting. Truly, I usually can find something to latch onto.

2007’s Ghosts of Goldfield is one of the few films that I gave up on trying to enjoy and instead embraced the boredom that comes with those few movies that aren’t good,but aren’t laughably shitty either.

This is just too easy. I'd feel guilty about taking advantage.

The acting wasn’t good, even though there’s a definite spread of talent. Our lead actress, Marnette Patterson, is a constant television actress with the standard extra roles on the even more standard host of shows. Our cliched “sexy chick”, Mandy Amano (who is quite attractive, I will say), has been in minor roles in movies such things as Coyote Ugly (one of my guilty pleasures) and Crank: High Voltage (less a guilty pleasure and more of a source of masturbation material). Really, though, the only actor of note (and the only one that can actually act) is Kellan Lutz.

You know, Kellan Lutz. Emmett Cullen from the Twilight series. Poseidon from Immortals. Kellan Lutz. Weird sorta blip there. Speaking of blips, let’s just go into the beginning of the movie summary with an awkward transition. Yay!

Kellan Lutz, god of wetness, god of moisture, and things that are wet.

The scene is set: a desert drive in a white SUV overlaid with the opening credits and pictures of old ghost towns. We hear the chatter of inane kids in their early twenties regarding their road trip to a haunted motel, where I pull the gem:

“Today we’re headin’ up to the famous Goldfield Hotel to see if we can find us some real live ghosts.”

If poor phrasing was a sin, this guy would be dead already.

Also! We get to see the ghost, prompting the following mid-movie-watching note:

Didn’t you guys learn anything from Muoi: The Legend of a Potrait? Jesus. Stop revealing the goddamned end boss 50 seconds into the movie. Who do I need to call to make this stop happening? SOMEONE, GET GEORGE ROMERO ON THE PHONE, STAT.

As we get some degree of introduction to the characters, we learn that the blonde is a psychology major, working on her thesis which, as far as I can tell, has absolutely nothing to do with psychology. Brunette is a red shirt, working on her five-finger discount and mad faux-lesbian skills. She’ll be the first to die, just before Mr. English-Ain’t-Mah-First-Language gets taken out by a rogue piece of rusty pipe. There are also three guys, but they’re indistinguishable from each other until about forty-five minutes in.

The car ride continues until the blonde falls asleep in the fading light and we get to flash-forward to the scene where one of the guys, a hipster-looking douchebag, gets killed. So not only is the monster being revealed again, so is one of the deaths.

Of course, I could see hipsters being knifed in the skull all day and not get sick of it, so it’s not such a bad thing. God, I hope we see it like eight more times.

Blonde also hears, “Come back to me…” as she wakes, whispered by the ghost. When she comes to, she’s clutching her necklace.

I brightened this picture and upped the contrast just for *you*.

Okay, how many people want to bet that by the end of this movie, everyone is dead but the blonde, who is not killed by the ghost because the ghost is actually her grandmother or great-grandmother who died while looking for her baby (who was kidnapped or whatever) who ended up being perfectly fine and starting a family of her own? WHO WANTS TO LAY SOME MONEY ON THE LINE?!

I’m at the 3 minute, 15 second mark of this movie, and if this doesn’t work out like I predicted, I’m going to punish myself by eating a chocolate chip cookie. If it does work out, I’m eating a chocolate chip cookie *and* making a booty call. (Post-movie update: I might have been wrong, but the theme was there. I’m still making that call.)

Around sunset, the car dies while taking a shortcut to the hotel. Bad dialogue ensues about why the car broke down but, really, the car was probably just rebelling against the douchey-est haircut known to man that the driver was sporting. If he let someone cut it to something that contained lesser levels of douchery, the car would start again.

BRB, going completely out of my established character.

After much whining, they start walking to the hotel. I can’t even speak to the line of “We’ve been walking so long, it’s dark already,” when they started walking at goddamned sunset. Someone punch the goddamned brunette for me. Just reach through the goddamned screen and just pop her one.

During their night wanderings, they find an old cemetary. Good for them. Anyhow, the little cunty brunette decides she doesn’t wanna go into the cemetery and you can’t make her, waaaah. Until, of course, the whispering starts. “Bloooody finger, bloooooody finnggerrrr!”

Sorry. Was re-living my campfire story days.

“Where’s my baby? Where’s my baaaabyyyyyy?” followed by, “Closer, my darling, closer.” Which was followed by a coyote howl. OF COURSE IT WAS.

"This place lacks room service. I'm giving it three stars on Yelp."

The blonde experiences double-vision and a sudden sepia-toned flashback where we get to witness some godawful dancing and the reveal that one hundred (or whatever) years ago, the blonde used to be a waitress in the bar where the ghost worked (while alive, you nitwits).

When she comes out of it, the brunette is racing towards her and one of the idiots… er, men… is missing. Mike. Whichever one that one was.

He ends up popping out from behind a grave, scaring everyone, and then announcing repeatedly that he “got” them all. You know, being an idiotic horror movie stereotype.

So, death order as stands is:

1. Cunty brunette who needs a good punching
2. Mike (may or may not have English issues)
3. Idiot with English issues (may or may not be Mike)

After their brush with stupidity, the five kids head into the suddenly located ghost town to hopefully suddenly locate the hotel.

Hotel = suddenly located! \o/

Let’s take a moment to note that this is supposed to be a ghost town, you know, one of those California/Nevada/Arizona towns that was all hustle and bustle while people were working towards their Manifest Destiny or mining the shit out of the mountains and then dried up for a variety of reasons, generally in the 1920s.

So please ignore the goddamned stop sign in front of the hotel. Oh, and the open bar across the street from the hotel. You know, in the town that one of the less mentally disabled kids said had no vistors aside from the occasional tourist.

After awkward and vaguely illogical conversation with the bartender and his lone patron, the Scooby gang gets a key to the abandoned (and fully furnished and clean) hotel, with instructions not to go into room 109. (Because you know those instructions’ll be followed.)

The bartender explains that George Winfield, Elizabeth’s boss and sex-patron, killed poor Elizabeth in room 109. During this story, the bartender gets incredibly, oddly emotional about Elizabeth and then, when asked if he somehow knew her (kids can’t do math), he explains that he’s seen paintings of her and basically put all of his sex drive into pastels and turned into a total dead-chick-stalking creep.

I may have elaborated on that last part.

The look of concern you're seeing is them watching the final cut of this film.

After story time is over, the kids walk over to the hotel, where the blonde has another sepia-toned flashback where she sees Elizabeth receive the gift of a necklace (Whaaat? Like the necklace the blonde was playing with at the beginning of the film? SHOCKING.) from her beau “for the baby”.

Back in modern day, the cunty brunette steals the hotel desk’s bell while the idiot who likes to scare people scares people again and then busts out the alcohol.

It’s almost like they want to die.

The next hour of this movie is spent with them roaming around multiple locations cobbled together to represent a hotel that is mostly birthed from locations that were clearly not built in the early 1900s. From fire sprinklers to uniform gray carpeting to flouresent lights to modern plumbing, the hotel fails to provide any atmosphere except for the sad sort of desperate amusement one gets when visiting one of those truck stops/mini-casinos that dot the highways in Nevada.

Topless and inebriated-- just like I like them.

What are they doing while roaming? Fuck if I know. There seems to be an overarching plot… kinda. I mean, it’s mostly there. And then there’s all these little potential side plots that amount to nothing and then there’s just severe amounts of minor plot inconsistencies that make the whole thing rather shaky, and I’m not sure if I should blame those issues on the screenwriter or the editor.

In sum: Editing fail. Script fail. Character fail. Plot fail. Location fail. Fail fail. (Or would that be “success fail”? I just wanted to write “fail fail”. Seemed like a good idea.)

I don’t suggest queuing this up on your Netflix. It’s simply not worth it. I can’t even design a drinking game around this, other than “drink every time Kellan Lutz is hot”, which is a totally gimme.

Until next week, kids.