Reviewing Bad Movies

November 12, 2008

I was just talking to pal Theresa about how we both love reading reviews of bad movies, especially if it generates a particulary caustic review.
Then, as if being tested, circumstances forced me into watching a really, really putrid movie.
Let me digress for one moment and let you know that one of my first ever cultural participatory things on the web – back in the day – was writing reviews for CDs and movies on Amazon and similar online virtual stores. I was excited at the prospect of having an outlet to be a wannabee Ebert or Bangs. I spent untold hours penning reviews – both good and bad – to films and music I loved and loathed. I also breathlessly waited for feedback on my reviews. Sad, actually.  So now I’m doing Netflix, and taking the time to review movies I’ve rented, or in this case, my wife has rented and we watched.

OK, onto the review. I do this mainly in the spirit of ancient mapmakers who took pains to annotate Here be Monsters on maps.
Here be a shitty movie, dear friends:

An irritating, horribly directed mess of a movie.
So bad, one expects Matthew Lilliard to walk around the corner at any moment. It wouldn’t hurt.
Justin Long spends the entire movie barricaded in the bathroom, talking in a silly, babyish voice.
Buried somewhere in this movie is supposed to be a message about being free to determine your life or future. But would you squander your free will on spending an evening watching this piece of garbage?
The otherwise funny Wendie Malick is wasted as a materialistic, shallow suburban mom, more concerned with raising a trophy child, while her idiotic husband (played by Office Space’s Stephen Root, whose character from that film seems to be the inspiration for Long’s idiotic ‘performance’) is obsessed with his collection of goofy ephemera.
The low point is where Malick’s character rapes Ed Begley Jr.
At some point, she inexplicably emerges as the character we’re supposed to be sympathetic to.
This also contains pointless cameos, walk-ons and bit parts by Clint Howard, Shirley Jones and Tippi Hedren.
This was directed by no less than two adults (Linda Voorhees and Bess Wiley).
Someone should’ve flushed this bathroom dramady and held the handle down for good measure.

I dare Netflix to leave my review up.



  1. Awesome! Sounds like a terrible movie. I’d love to read your take on the new Indiana Jones.

  2. I will of course expect the same honesty in your review of my soon to be released (Jan. 13th), direct to DVD, Mathew Lilliard free sequel to “Without A Paddle,” entitled “Without A Paddle: Nature’s Calling.” A bit part, to be sure. And I do NOT rape Ed Begley Jr. Remember when I used to say “Man, I would love to be in a crappy movie”…? I have lived that dream. I’m selling aoutographs for a dollar.

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