Though it may not be something I'm particularly proud of, movies from the late '90s are a source of bittersweet wisdom for me, having spent the entire duration of said era as a very devoted video store manager. It was there I discovered it was one of the few professions where you could actually benefit from being your own best customer, but I didn't necessarily watch everything that went out on the shelves. Not that we received everything released (not unless there was some sort of bulk discount involved), but I did watch an awful lot of the moving pictures
Results tagged “Bad”
Joe Pesci's waning career gets ahead of itself in this delightfully dumb film now available in HD from Twilight Time.
Jose Ferrer directs Pat Boone, Bobby Darin, and Ann-Margret in an awkward musical remake of a musical remake.
Were Twilight Time's double-bill of the Reader's Digest-produced early '70s musical adaptations of Mark Twain's Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn just not enough to satisfy the song-and-dance movie lover in you, don't worry. Because now they've added another musical remake of a classic tale to their lineup with Rodgers and Hammerstein's State Fair. But this isn't the famous 1945 musical remake of the original non-musical 1933 pre-Code film State Fair, boys and girls. Rather, this particular version is the (hold onto your straw hats, kids) musical remake of the musical remake of the original non-musical movie. You may take a
Twilight Time proudly proclaims "I'll be your Huckleberry" with these '70s Mark Twain musicals from Arthur P. Jacobs and Reader's Digest.
Years before they preyed upon lonely elderly folks with unfulfilled promises of winning phony lotteries even Ed McMahon wouldn't stamp his name on, the folks at Reader's Digest set out to lure entire families into theaters for motion pictures they produced. Thus begins one ‒ or rather, two, as it were ‒ of the strangest incarnations of Mark Twain ever to appear on any screen, big or small: the Reader's Digest Musical Adaptation. Appearing on the worn-out heels of a now-forgotten cinematic fad ‒ that of MGM's Children Matinees, wherein classic features were re-released and targeted at kids with nothing
Don Coscarelli's franchise has always reflected the times. Now, the time has come to repackage and re-release it. Again.
Although I was routinely exposed to the few horror film franchises that existed within the world of film before movies like Scream started to pop up all over the place, there was always something about the Phantasm series which appealed to my youthful self. Perhaps it was the creepy, lawless atmosphere where the dreaded Tall Man (as played by the late Grammy-winning Angus Scrimm, in what would become his claim to filmic fame, be it for better or worse) and his otherworldly demonic dwarfed minions reigned over the living, usually to quite cataclysmic extents. Or the iconic flying silver spheres
Tom Cruise teams up with visually-impaired paint-by-numbers artist Alex Kurtzman to bring us something as old as ancient Egypt itself.
First off, make no mistake, Universal's latest attempt at rebranding one of their many legendary classic horror movie franchises is a very inferior film. It didn't necessarily need to be so, however. In fact, I dare say I had relatively high hopes the film would be at least halfway entertaining in a manner which didn't involve shaking one's head in disbelief every couple of minutes. Alas, the studio that brought us the legendary 1932 tale of undead romance starring Boris Karloff is now the same company responsible for a slew of increasingly ridiculous Fast and Furious movies, horrifically written Fifty
Ken Jeong and David Hasselhoff cast-off amid a wave of improv comics and washed-up cameos in this vulgar, strangely enjoyable guilty pleasure.
"I was gonna cap on The Hoff, but then I got high." Were they to have made it at least ten years ago, Killing Hasselhoff might be considered a cult classic unto its own today. Alas, as is frequently the case in Hollywood, poorly-written scripts for godawful Michael Bay movies always receive priority over something an aspiring screenwriter who actually has an imagination. And it's a pity, too, because I'll gladly take ten more movies like Killing Hasselhoff any ol' day. Even if the many production companies and distributors responsible for promoting the movie ‒ a short list, yes, but
Synapse Films releases a docudrama about one of cinema's most inept movies, along with a new 2K scan of the original creature feature.
Sometimes, the most interesting aspect of a movie is its production history. Especially when the movie in question is something as legendarily awful as Vic Savage's 1964 magnum oopus, The Creeping Terror ‒ a film so bad, it makes even the worst Ed Wood flick seem like fine art by comparison. Indeed, the story behind the infamous black-and-white no-budget monster movie messterpiece has garnered the interest of several twisted minds throughout the years, most notably by the honorably dishonorable mentionings of said in two of Harry and Michael Medved's books, The Golden Turkey Awards (1980) and Son of Golden Turkey
Peter Yates' unintentionally hilarious adventure tale will make you want to join a wine club and beat him over the head with it.
What can you say about a movie where the hero is named Oliver Plexico? Well, frankly, you can say an awful lot about it, actually ‒ especially if the movie you're talking about happens to be Peter Yates' less-than-revered early '90s "magnum oopus", Year of the Comet. According to screenwriter William Goldman, the less-than-lacklustre success his story received from a free screening audience (who, reportedly, got up and left) was attributable solely to the unpaid group's respective distastes for red wine, which is ‒ believe it or not ‒ what this 1992 ode to the romantic comedy adventures of the
The American Film Genre Archive teams up with Something Weird Video to bring us a quintessential slice of sleazy '70s exploitation filmmaking, paired with a second, rarely-seen serial killer flick.
Pop quiz, hotshot: How many films can you think of that were made to trap a serial killer? If you find yourself suddenly developing a headache at the mere notion of such a thing having ever taken place, it's probably time you checked out Tom Hanson's creepy low-budget exploitation flick from 1971, The Zodiac Killer. Cranked out on a whim and released less than three weeks after the infamous real life serial killer mailed what would prove to be the last letter for nearly three years, this very loose adaptation of one of the modern world's greatest unsolved mysteries was
Severin Films and Vinegar Syndrome team up to bring us a certifiable guilty pleasure, which is probably most famous due to the unsolved murder of its creator.
When it comes to connecting with a cult movie enthusiast, the mere mention of the blaxploitation genre can effectively inspire one's ticker to start pumpin' blood ‒ usually to the strains of a funky theme song we have come to adopt as our own over the years. For instance, if you so much as even say "Shaft" to me, you had best be prepared for my best Isaac Hayes impersonation. This also applies to the rarer horror subgenre of urban exploitation features, the best example of which would more than likely be AIP's lovably ridiculous (but still right on track)
Get stuffed as Severin Films proves a dynamic HD master can make even Joe D'Amato's most notorious schlocker look sharp and polished.
Of all the Italian horror maestros whose various works I discovered and worshipped as a teenager in the analog era, none stood out quite like the great Aristide Massaccesi did. Best known by his more marketable anglicized alias Joe D'Amato, the late low-budget director/producer/writer/cinematographer/editor of sleazy European exploitation cinema cranked out nearly 200 directorial efforts alone throughout his wild ride on Earth before heading off to the world beyond in 1999. Fortunately, Joe left behind a wide and varied legacy for both the devout and the curious alike, with numerous contributions to every feasible film genre in existence, from westerns
Arrow Video's recently discharged slasher flick is so lazy, its composer ripped-off his own work.
Perhaps one of the most alluring features to be observed within the boundaries of Italian exploitation movies was the industry's tendency to rip-off anyone's work, including their own. Sometimes, the references are quite obvious, such as when they make sequels to other people's movies. Other times, the connections are much more subtle (by Italian filmmaking standards, that is). In the instance of Madhouse, however, we're served a little bit of both: its various parallels to other works are undoubtedly noticeable, but none of them can hold a birthday candle to the fact that the legendary, late great composer Riz Ortolani
The Warner Archive Collection travels through time and space to bring us one of cinema's first ‒ and strangely optimistic ‒ views of a post-apocalyptic future.
While the notion of living in a world ravaged by nuclear war may be a regular staple in motion pictures today, it was just as much of a newfangled concept in the 1950s as was the very thought of a post-apocalyptic society itself. Of course, when it's an era where the basic "science" behind surviving an atomic blast suggested hiding under your school desk would do the trick, you have to expect a fair bit of silliness from the few movies that dared to tackle the subject. Certainly, Edward Bernds' World Without End ‒ a lavish Technicolor CinemaScope production from
One of the most amusingly bad drive-in monster movies ever conceived receives a beautiful new HD transfer from the Warner Archive Collection.
What can you say about a monster movie featuring a walking, stalking, murderous tree on a wooden rampage? In the instance of From Hell It Came, you can say a whole heck of a lot just by saying very little. In fact, the most commonly referenced review of the movie was a six-word piece which read nothing more than "And to Hell it can go!" But ne'er fear, kiddies ‒ From Hell It Came has managed to uproot itself and terrorize unsuspecting filmgoers once again. This time, however, bad movie aficionados 'round the world will be able to fully immerse
Spanish horror legend Paul Naschy's directorial debut gets the full treatment in this shocking, sleazy, and sinful release now available from Mondo Macabro.
As a small child, Jacinto Molina became heavily captivated and inspired by the classic Universal horror movies of the '30s and '40s. So much so, in fact, that he would later craft his own series of bloody horror outings in his native Spain under his better-known alias, Paul Naschy. All but begetting the Spanish horror boom of the late '60s and '70s, Naschy's more celebrated character would be that of a tormented lycanthrope named Waldemar Daninsky, whom his creator (and portrayer) continued to torture onscreen more than a dozen times over a span of 36 years in-between his many varied
The world hears from Christopher Lee's most infamous character again in Blue Underground's HD double feature of two cult collaborations from Jesus Franco and Harry Alan Towers.
Even though nearly everyone involved in the creation of Harry Alan Towers' legendary film series have since passed on, the world has nevertheless heard from Fu Manchu again thanks to the efforts of Blue Underground. To the uninitiated (or at least overly-sensitive), Towers' Fu Manchu franchise started out in 1965 with The Face of Fu Manchu ‒ effectively reviving the long-absent (and nowhere near politically correct) villain from Sax Rohmer's legendary master of "yellow peril" thanks largely to the late great horror icon Christopher Lee and his effortless ability to play a baddie. Even when the 6' 5" British actor
A shockingly subdued Rod Steiger stars in this Italian-made WWI dramedy from Pasquale Festa Campanile.
From a screenwriting perspective, Pasquale Festa Campanile was a fairly active fellow. Beginning in the 1950s, Campanile would go on to pen nearly 60 motion pictures, including a heap of melodramas and sex comedies, most notably the Senta Berger guilty pleasure When Women Had Tails. During the early '60s, he would collaborate with both Elio Petri and Luchiano Visconti on The Assassin (1961) and The Leopard (1963). He was also the fellow responsible for writing and directing the gritty cult 1977 thriller Hitch-Hike with Franco Nero and the late David Hess, proving the late Italian filmmaker knew how to choose
The Film Detective brings us the first widescreen 2k scan of this truly abominable, incoherent ‒ and yet, undeniable entertaining ‒ Euro horror messterpiece. And it's glorious!
Imagine if an amateur Spanish filmmaker, light years away from honing in on the trade he decided to briefly pick up, suddenly received word he and his friends could join a cruise to the Caribbean for free. "Free," that is, so long as they agreed to document ‒ and subsequently promote ‒ the company paying for the very generous freebie. Deciding this would be the perfect opportunity to take advantage of their limited financial means and still crank something (emphasis on "something") out in the process, they wrangled in what little talent they could (emphasis on "little") and took their
Cursed convents? Possessed prioresses? Severin Films is having nun of that now!
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
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