A week or so ago, during the weekly wine-tasting run, we started talking about movies. Not just any movies, but bad ones, bad ones that we nonetheless will watch anytime we come across them on television.
It wasn't just a guilty pleasure sort of thing. We came up with the catch-all category of Intellectually Indefensible Movies -- the ones we know are bad, that we know aren't well-shot or well-paced or well-written, that pretty much don't have any kind of redeeming value other than giving us something to do for a couple hours, but that we'll watch every time anyway.
The discussion initially centered just on comedies, but as I've thought about it I decided to expand the list to all genres. You'll see a couple sports movies in there, because I'm really just a sucker for sports movies. So after the jump, my list.
Rocky III. Some folks will tell you Rocky IV is the more terribly awesome film, with Rocky singlehandedly bringing about perestroika with his unyielding performance against Ivan Drago. For me, though, it's the third installment. When Clubber Lang stares into the camera and snarls, "Prediction? Pain," well, I'm in.
Bring It On. In the rash of teen movies around the turn of the millennium, Can't Hardly Wait had the classic Hughesian feel, 10 Things I Hate About You had the Shakespearean pedigree, and Bring It On had ... spirit fingers. And Kirsten Dunst and Eliza Dushku in cheerleading outfits. Yeah.
Meatballs. I thought about Stripes for this spot, but two years of extra experience and a bigger budget clearly helped Ivan Reitman and Harold Ramis elevate that one. Meatballs was a Reitman-Ramis joint too -- but a cheap-looking, unfocused one that spawned several shitty sequels. But I still chant "Spaz! Spaz! Spaz!" and "It just doesn't matter" right along with it every time it's on cable.
White Men Can't Jump. I could try to mount a defense of the movie that launched the very brief Wesley-and-Woody buddy-movie run on the grounds of how good the basketball action is, and how well it portrays the culture of the playground game. But then I remember that a huge plot point is Rosie Perez scheming to get on Jepoardy!, and that pretty much goes out the window. But it's probably among my ten favorite sports movies.
The Running Man. Loud, crass and crude, plus it features a completely superfluous "I'll be back." And Richard Freaking Dawson is the bad guy. My inner 15-year-old loves every second.
My younger self probably would have included some of the middle chapters of the Nightmare on Elm Street series too, but I doubt I could stomach them now.
Continued ...
It wasn't just a guilty pleasure sort of thing. We came up with the catch-all category of Intellectually Indefensible Movies -- the ones we know are bad, that we know aren't well-shot or well-paced or well-written, that pretty much don't have any kind of redeeming value other than giving us something to do for a couple hours, but that we'll watch every time anyway.
The discussion initially centered just on comedies, but as I've thought about it I decided to expand the list to all genres. You'll see a couple sports movies in there, because I'm really just a sucker for sports movies. So after the jump, my list.
Rocky III. Some folks will tell you Rocky IV is the more terribly awesome film, with Rocky singlehandedly bringing about perestroika with his unyielding performance against Ivan Drago. For me, though, it's the third installment. When Clubber Lang stares into the camera and snarls, "Prediction? Pain," well, I'm in.
Bring It On. In the rash of teen movies around the turn of the millennium, Can't Hardly Wait had the classic Hughesian feel, 10 Things I Hate About You had the Shakespearean pedigree, and Bring It On had ... spirit fingers. And Kirsten Dunst and Eliza Dushku in cheerleading outfits. Yeah.
Meatballs. I thought about Stripes for this spot, but two years of extra experience and a bigger budget clearly helped Ivan Reitman and Harold Ramis elevate that one. Meatballs was a Reitman-Ramis joint too -- but a cheap-looking, unfocused one that spawned several shitty sequels. But I still chant "Spaz! Spaz! Spaz!" and "It just doesn't matter" right along with it every time it's on cable.
White Men Can't Jump. I could try to mount a defense of the movie that launched the very brief Wesley-and-Woody buddy-movie run on the grounds of how good the basketball action is, and how well it portrays the culture of the playground game. But then I remember that a huge plot point is Rosie Perez scheming to get on Jepoardy!, and that pretty much goes out the window. But it's probably among my ten favorite sports movies.
The Running Man. Loud, crass and crude, plus it features a completely superfluous "I'll be back." And Richard Freaking Dawson is the bad guy. My inner 15-year-old loves every second.
My younger self probably would have included some of the middle chapters of the Nightmare on Elm Street series too, but I doubt I could stomach them now.
