The various subgenres of exploitation filmmaking are both wild and varied, ranging from bizarre tales featuring Bruce Lee wannabes to brutal barrages upon the senses having to do with the Nazis. In addition to Brucesploitation and Nazisploitation, there's also sexploitation, blaxploitation, 'Namsploitation, and even sharksploitation to consider. And they're all a lot more popular than you probably think, too. But hidden away in the darkest recesses of cinema, there's yet another form of exploitation film that could effectively eradicate any remaining scruples of the morbidly inclined. I refer to, of course, the weird and wacky world of Nunsploitation. If you
Results tagged “Bad”
Cursed convents? Possessed prioresses? Severin Films is having nun of that now!
The Warner Archive paroles a corny prison yarn featuring Shemp Howard and the voice of Jiminy Cricket as inmates.
Despite the slightly uplifting title, RKO's Millionaires in Prison is exactly the sort of thing you'd expect to happen today were the system ‒ which, as we all know, knows better ‒ to incarcerate a deserving fraudster or two: a lighthearted romp where no one gets hurt. This wouldn't necessarily a bad thing if the film was intended to be a comedy. Alas, Millionaires in Prison appears as if it is supposed to be taken seriously ‒ something which becomes all the more difficult to fathom when you stop to consider the film was directed by a man who mostly
Groucho's last leading role ‒ now available from the Warner Archive ‒ isn't something you'd bet your life on, but warrants a viewing from devoted Marxists just the same.
The wisdom and wit of Groucho Marx may be as timeless as comedy itself, but it can be a little hard to perceive underneath some of the late legend's latter-day contributions to cinema. And a prime example of just how hard even the mightiest of comics can struggle is no more apparent than in the 1952 RKO ditty, A Girl in Every Port. When he was given the chance to simply be himself and say whatever popped into his head (censors permitting, of course), Groucho was nothing short of dynamic. Here, however, in what would be his final leading role
Canada's strange 'Exorcist' rip-off receives a beautiful restoration thanks to Severin Films.
Apparently, nary a nation capable of manufacturing a motion picture during the 1970s was immune to the phenomenal success of William Friedkin's The Exorcist. Sadly, the otherwise reputable country of Canada was among the list of offenders in the post-Exorcist wave of rip-off cinema that followed once the 1973 blockbuster traveled abroad, exorcising their right to cash-in on the horror subgenre of demonic possession with a tale of their own. Unfortunately, the resulting motion picture, Cathy's Curse lacked most of the enjoyable qualities better-known, less-reputable knock-offs from other countries possessed. To imply Cathy's Curse is slow would be something of
Lucio Fulci's last credited feature feels more like a dry run for Dario Argento's career slump. And is just as appealing.
Within the annals of Italian horror films, there are perhaps no two better-known names than those of Lucio Fulci and Dario Argento. Even today, long after the film industry which had shot both filmmakers to fame (or infamy, if you prefer) had collapsed, the two artists are still held in high regard ‒ despite the inconvenient truths that one of them is dead and the other hasn't made a decent picture since 1990 (sorry, Trauma lovers, but Two Evil Eyes is where I officially draw the line). During their heyday, it was easy to distinguish one director's work from the
Yes, it's a dog's world, but that doesn't mean you have to live in it.
When is a dog movie strictly for the dogs? When it's Won Ton Ton, the Dog Who Saved Hollywood, that's when! Unleashed upon an unsuspecting public in-between the two movies that actually would save Hollywood ‒ Jaws and Star Wars ‒ this 1976 stinker probably started off with better intentions. Intended to spoof the enormous and, by today's standards, inexplicably bizarre popularity of canine motion-picture performer Rin Tin Tin during Tinseltown's Silent Era, this equally strange byproduct of the movie-making machine ‒ manufactured during a time when animal movies had made their anomalous return to screens ‒ was, incredibly, made
Severin Films assembles 35 original trailers for some of the most mind-numbing martial arts films ever to escape from the Far East.
'Following on the high-kicking heels of last year's Kung Fu Trailers of Fury release, the folks at Severin Films have once again sunk their iron fists into the vaults in order to bring us another gathering of jaw-dropping previews from some of the most mind-bending movies never seen by American audiences. And, honestly, this might be the best way to see some of the films advertised in this 134-minute compilation, which brings both disbelieving viewers and diehard fans alike a total of nearly three-dozen trailers for Hong Kong martial arts flicks (or at least movies made in Hong Kong that
A forgotten, completely forgettable underwater treasure-hunting flick receives more love than it probably deserves in this fully restored, fully loaded 3D release from Kino Lorber.
While perhaps best known for writing classic crime novels such as Little Caesar and The Asphalt Jungle ‒ to say nothing of the classic motion picture versions of his own celebrated work ‒ W.R. Burnett also managed to adapt a few titles from other authors for the silver screen. One such title, a modest little 3D production from 1960 entitled September Storm, fell through the slats of the proverbial pier many moons ago, only to recently reemerge from the deep thanks to some very devoted Kickstarter followers. In fact, were it not for the people behind this restoration, this September
Severin Films presents one of the best bad movies ever, fully restored from original elements discovered ‒ naturally ‒ in the remains of a drive-in.
Had your average drive-in movie theater screen been constructed with a curtain, then Stu Segall's Drive-In Massacre would have definitely called for the pulling of such. That is not to say Drive-In Massacre is a "bad" film: truth be told, it's actually quite awful ‒ though, in this particular instance, its sheer incompetence is actually the film's saving grace! Rather, the jaw-droppingly unbelievable 1976 independent no-budget wonder from Southern California was made on little more than a whim and a prayer once it became all too clear the once-popular form of outdoor motion picture entertainment was coming to an unceremonious
Phyllis Coates and Myron Healey star in the penultimate Republic Pictures serial, which gets a new lease on life from Olive Films.
After wowing Saturday Matinee Serial lovers everywhere in 2015 with a casual release of the 1950 guilty pleasure The Invisible Monster, Olive Films sent an indirect message to classic cliffhanger fanatics that there was indeed hope for these nearly-forgotten relics from yesteryear. Indeed, said hope is still springing up from out of the Paramount vaults Olive Films has access to, and now ‒ following subsequent digital serial debuts of Flying Disc Man from Mars and quasi-serial Commando Cody: Sky Marshall of the Universe ‒ another kiddie-friendly offering from Republic Pictures has been made available in High-Definition. The serial in question,
Anthony Hopkins stars in a four-year-old dud based off of a decades-old, rejected sequel to 'Se7en,' ineffectively re-written to rip-off the recently revoked 'Hannibal.'
From its opening frame, Solace leaves one with an immediate impression similar to what you might experience were you to take a swig of discounted milk from a bargain market without checking its expiration date first. It feels old. It seems slightly off. The sour taste of Solace only grows worse as all of the the markings of incompetence are repeatedly stamped over it, much like the proverbial image of well-traveled early 20th century Rockefeller's well-worn luggage would sport numerous luggage labels from different parts of the world. Alas, Solace never gets off of the runway, as its director is
The Warner Archive Collection presents the home video debut of this legendary box office failure featuring a young Ian McKellen.
Sprawling epics were all the rage in the 1950s, with fantastical biblical yarns and timeless tales of undefeatable conquerors popping up in theaters near and far, usually presented to eager audiences via the modern miracle of of CinemaScope and stereo sound. And yet, long after American filmgoers had had their fill of wildly inaccurate and often preposterous cinematic blockbusters which damn near bankrupted Hollywood's biggest studios, the Brits decided it was their turn to rewrite history and produce a large-scale saga which people would avoid in droves. Thus, Alfred the Great ‒ the UK's 1969 throwback to the great epics
The Warner Archive Collection dusts off one of the sappiest, nerve-wracking, Depression-era family melodramas ever made. Enjoy.
While I am always eager to point out how wretched contemporary filmmaking seems to have become, I can never dismiss the notion that bad movies have been getting cranked out by Hollywood since the beginning. In fact, as the type of feller who appreciates that certain kind of maligned movie manufacturing (see: just about any of my articles), I don't mind discovering a previously unseen Tinseltown atrocity from yesteryear in the least bit. That is, until I stumble across something as wretched as When a Feller Needs a Friend, of course. That's when I feel like gnawing my own arm
Blaxploitation meets Brucesploitation in an utterly shameless, completely inept, no-budget cash-in on the demise of a martial arts master.
A brief disclaimer beginning with "The names and characters in this film, based upon the Death of Bruce Lee, are fictitious..." cautiously alerts anyone with a lick of common sense or taste as to what sort of tripe awaits them. And yet, The Black Dragon's Revenge still manages to hit way below one's expectations of a cheapo martial arts flick produced in the wake (pun very much intended, since it's more than obvious the producers of this particular atrocity showed no remorse or honor whatsoever) of Bruce Lee's controversial death. Here, two equally tendentious subgenres of exploitation filmmaking ‒ that
Tom Hanks and Ron Howard reunite for another apocalyptic Dan Brown/Robert Langdon adaptation. But is it a bit too late?
If there's one grouping author Dan Brown never imagined he would be lumped into, it's that of the works by purported novelists E.L. James, Stephanie Meyer, and whoever it is we have to blame for those Hunger Games and Divergent books. And yet, thanks to terrible film adaptations of the works of Dan Brown ‒ to say nothing of other (real) writers whose works have been equally massacred by Tinseltown scribes who keep appearing to miss the moral of the story ‒ it has almost become virtually impossible to distinguish legitimate writers from hacks. Brown's messages to humanity first became
Olive Films releases one of Bob Hope's legendary flops, which is almost bad enough to be funny.
If there's one thing film historians and aficionados alike can agree on, it's that you can't make a good movie with a bad script. Even a comedic titan such as the late, great Bob Hope would discover he was not immune to this theory as both he and his career entered the 1960s, wherein the legendary star of stage, screen, and radio ‒ who was now fully able to make a few dumb sex jokes for an hour-and-a-half thanks to changing times ‒ found himself with nothing more to do than make a few dumb sex jokes for an hour-and-a-half.
For those of you who think they know Dick, the WAC salutes you.
Anyone who has seen a single Hollywood adaptation of a classic (or even contemporary) work of literature knows full well how much Tinseltown can change even the most simple of premises. Sometimes, liberties are taken in the scriptwriting and/or filmmaking processes because of budgetary restraints or per the request of certain thespians who probably never had a very good grip on the subject matter to begin with. In other instances, time-honored tales are completely rewritten in the bold attempt at making them seem "fresh" ‒ a move which usually culminates in widely distributed box office debuts that would fare far
Filipino cinema's least-likely leading man was only 2-foot 9-inches tall, but his appeal to cult cinema aficionados is immeasurable.
For anyone who has only experienced the mainstream world of cinema, venturing into the output of the Filipino film industry ‒ particularly its numerous exploitation movies made during the '70s and '80s ‒ can seem akin to jumping head first into a swimming pool with very little water in it. I still vividly recall the first time I sat down to cast my disbelieving orbs on Bobby A. Suarez's The One Armed Executioner, wherein Franco Guerrero and his giant pompadour sought vengeance against the evil men who killed his bride and left him minus an extremity. It was the closest
One of the pulp world's first heroes makes for one of film world's worst zeroes.
Lately, Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson has been threatening all of mankind by announcing he is slated to star in one remake after another, including a short-lived, fleeting fantasy of a new version of Big Trouble in Little China and ‒ more recently ‒ the reboot of a footnote in the revised American Superhero book, the Doc Savage franchise. And though no such crimes have been perpetrated as of this writing, I almost think a re-envisioning of Doc Savage is in order. Not necessarily because I would support it (I wouldn't), but because it couldn't possibly be any worse than the
The spirit of Something Weird Video is alive and as incurably sick as ever with this exciting new sexploitation double-bill from Garagehouse Pictures.
Like absent remote controls and missing keys, lost films also have a tendency to pop up once in a blue moon, thus restoring a fraction of faith to movie lovers everywhere. And while movies such as the Silent Era's London After Midnight remain just as elusive as ever, a small percentage of that aforementioned fraction of faith is nevertheless present when even something far less famous (and infinitely more obscure) magically re-appears after more than 40 years of complete and total nihility. In fact, the enthusiasm over the rediscovery of something few people have ever even heard of can be