I’ve given thought from time to time, as I’m quite certain many others have, to starting a bad movie blog. People should write about what they know and considering that 90% of the movies I watch these days are crap it would seem that I’m in the midst of a very strong phase of knowing crappy movies.
A typical movie-watching evening often begins with a cursory glance at Canadian Netflix, since our Northern streaming partner seems to a heartier home for bottom grade movie trash – the modern day equivalent of straight-to-VHS wonders.
It’s a good starting point, but it’s either rarely updated or update in a such a way that browsing for movies is a rather weak experience. Unless you know the name of the movie, good luck finding it in the recommendations.
Netflix actually outlines one of the problems with hunting for crap films: unless you did some IMDB research earlier, you often don’t know the name of the movie you’re going to watch until you stumble upon it.
It’s not like new movies, where their names are plastered all over town a months before release. These are like the lost classics of CHOM radio – deservedly forgotten turds that only see the light of day through the work of an enterprising cultural archaeologist.
You often don’t know they exist until you literally stumble upon them.
Dammit do I miss the days of VHS-laden video stores. It made finding crappy movies so much more inviting.
Other times, when I’m more desperate for a lost “classic” I tape option number two: I scour youtube, which has recently transformed into one of the larger crappy movie hubs out there (just type “full movie” in the search bar and see what wonders pop up!).
Usually when I find myself going down this path, I end up hanging out with now-familiar friends – hidden and very much forgotten gems of famed Italian schlock-camp-exploitation director Bruno Mattei and his alter-ego pseudonym “Vincent Dawn”.
Also, not surprising, every Canadian movie made prior to 1995 seems to be on there in some capacity.
The third and for a time other best option for hunters like us is Crackle, but I exhausted the contents of Crackle long ago.
The problem is, I don’t remember half the movies I watch.
A key factor here is the amount of alcohol I’m required to drink every time I sit down to watch one of these. Bad movies demand it, they’ll have it no other way.
It’s a prerqeuisite not only because alcohol makes most things more enjoyable, but perhaps even bearable. Considering that many of them are thread-bare, stock-footage ridden, contenders for most boring movie ever made you gotta do something to keep your wits up.
But then even if sobriety wasn’t an issue, and we did make it through fully-functional, one finds that there’s often only so much that can be said about this grade of movies that one hasn’t already said.
It’s like having someone to compare two piles of garbage and then asking them what they took away from it. There might be some peripheral elements that you notice but was one really any different than the other? It’s an evil magic eye where the object you focus on is always the same heap of trash.
It’s not as if the titles help either. Most of the time they are either remarkably interchangeable – just insert words like “night of”, “blood”, “monster”, etc. Other times, they are flat out misleading. Ever see Beat of Yucca Flats? They should have called that movie Fat Strangler.
Well, even if I don’t start a bad movie blog, at least these films have given me enough fuel for a single bad movie blog post.