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.
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.
4 comments:
I'd rather hear about intellectually indefensible wines -- keith
National Lampoon's Vacation. I make absolutely no apologies for my love of Clark W. Griswold and his lovely wife, Ellen. The sequels that followed were somewhat worthy -- I like that they use different kids every time, and inexplicably Christmas Vacation has become a holiday favorite with my family. But the sheer slapstick joy of watching Chevy Chase get "honkylips" spray-painted on the side of the car, run off the road, spit out the sandwich after the dog went on the picnic basket, strap a dead Imogene Coca to the roof of the family truckster, and generally just be a buffoon is unbeatable. It never flags, despite about 10,000 viewings. This movie also marks a transition from the sexy Chevy Chase of Caddyshack (yeah, I actually just wrote that) to the more family-oriented Chevy -- a nice stop on the way to his current incarnation, whose resemblance to Dick Cheney defies imagination.
Nacho Libre. "I ate some leaves. I ate some grass. I used my hand... to wipe my tears." One of the many stupid movies I've seen in the theater. Was unemployed and freaked out and it totally made me feel better. I'll be forever grateful to Jack Black.
Coyote Ugly. It's not about female empowerment -- it's a girly show. And anyone who claims differently is just kidding themselves -- and you shouldn't believe anything else that they have to say. All I know is that it's been on cable nearly non-stop lately -- and last weekend I watched it three times. I'm not proud of that, but there it is.
Showgirls. Not only is there not anything intellectually redeeming, there's nothing redeeming about it at all. It's got horrible acting, violence, desperation, and a kind of feral feeling that I can only imagine emanates from Joe Esterhazs. But I watch it every time it's on -- even when VH1 puts it on Movies That Rock and magic markers over the nudity.
Love Actually. Pure schlock that doesn't hold up at all, and I'm risking every bit of cynical credibility by admitting it. But if you want to watch it, I'll loan you my copy.
Roadhouse seems to be on every weekend and I always watch the first couple of braws. But this movie is shamefully awful.
I'd also include Moonraker. I didn't realize what a bad movie this was until I got older. The fight scene in the Italian Glass Museum and the boat chase in the Venice canals make me stop and watch every time.
Lisa --
Love, Actually is great. And I say that as a lifelong cynic. The Brits can do sentimentality without descending into sappiness.
Post a Comment