Stinker Madness - The Bad Movie Podcast

If you're in the mood for a mid-altitude crisis that checks every air disaster box without ever pushing the emergency slide of insanity, Rough Air: Danger on Flight 534 is the in-flight entertainment you never asked for—but might not mind watching with a bag of stale pretzels. This 2001 made-for-TV thriller stars Eric Roberts, who delivers one of the most aggressively disinterested performances in a movie about a plummeting death tube ever recorded. And yet, somehow, the film still finds a way to stay airborne as an enjoyable slice of light turbulence TV cheese. The plot is your standard disaster blueprint: a disgraced pilot (Roberts) is pulled out of aviation exile to take over a flight after the captain suffers a sudden heart attack mid-flight. Cue the typical cabin drama: nervous passengers, a weepy stewardess, shaky controls, a storm system on the radar, and the always-welcome fuel crisis. But instead of going full barrel roll into each disaster trope, the film kind of… brushes up against them. It starts to nosedive into clichés and then levels off just before impact, leaving you wondering if it's building to something bigger. (Spoiler: it's not.) What really sells the surreal mediocrity of the movie is Eric Roberts, who is not so much phoning it in as texting it in from a burner phone. His emotional range here is somewhere between “waiting at the DMV” and “mildly annoyed a vending machine ate his dollar.” The stakes may be life or death, but Roberts plays it like he's watching a curling match and doesn't know the rules. He's not wooden. He's laminated indifference. Still, there's something kind of comforting about the movie's half-hearted commitment to disaster movie glory. It never crashes and burns, nor does it soar. It just floats in the airspace of “pretty okay.” If you're a fan of “Fly Hard” flicks—where troubled pilots, stormy skies, and panicked passengers do their dance—this is a breezy 86-minute ride. Just don't expect to remember anything about it once you've deplaned.

This special episode we go through our favorite bad and cult movies from our 10th year in podcasting. We'll also give our favorite 3 movies from the year 2024.

Death appears completely unqualified to do its job. It should apply for a cabinet position in the government. Hey yo! "Final Destination" starts with an intriguing premise for an X-Files episode – a group of high school students narrowly escape a plane explosion thanks to a premonition, only to find themselves stalked by Death itself in the aftermath. It's a clever setup, but the movie drags its feet getting to the fun part. The initial plane disaster sequence is drawn out like it's gunning for an Oscar in tension building, but instead, it feels like a slow crawl through a TSA line. The characters spend far too much time brooding about fate and existential dread before the real fireworks begin. Once the film finally lets loose and the Rube Goldberg death traps start rolling, it hits a much better stride. Each subsequent demise becomes more absurd than the last, delivering the kind of schlocky, over-the-top fun that horror fans crave. There's a certain perverse joy in watching the universe bend itself backward to off these characters in increasingly elaborate ways, as if Death took a weekend workshop in improvisational murder. It's the kind of movie that practically demands a group viewing, where half the fun is shouting predictions at the screen like a demented game of Clue: "It was the faulty microwave cord in the kitchen with the poorly placed puddle!" The cast, led by a moody Devon Sawa and a wildly underused Tony Todd, struggles to make the clunky dialogue feel meaningful, but the real stars here are the death scenes themselves – more creative than the writing and far more memorable than any of the actual characters. By the time the movie throws subtlety to the wind in its final act, it's gone from "grim supernatural thriller" to something closer to a darkly comic carnival ride. In the end, "Final Destination" is a mixed bag – sluggish at the start but ultimately rewarding if you hang in there. It's a popcorn horror flick that knows how to make an audience wince, cringe, and occasionally cackle at the sheer audacity of its kills. Would I watch it again? Sure, but only if I'm in the mood to laugh at Death's clumsiest attempts at efficiency.

If you’ve ever wondered what would happen if Charles Bronson had to hunt a werewolf and decided to play detective instead of hanging from Torino’s rooftops, “12 to Midnight” is here to answer that question with all the subtlety of a silver bullet to the jaw. Robert Bronzi leans so hard into his Charles Bronson impersonation you half expect him to growl “Don’t pull that stunt on me, pal” at every suspect. His trademark scowl is in full force, but the script seems to recognize that Bronzi can’t quite nail the dialogue—so he just stands there, arms crossed, delivering each line in unintelligible monosyllables until everyone else on screen tries and fails to fill in the blanks. It’s stoicism by requirement, and Bronzi owns it. Plot coherence? Forget it. “12 to Midnight” is a glorious fever dream of mismatched clues, midnight stakeouts that last five minutes, and villains who apparently transform more for the camera than for the storyline. Somehow, this budget brawler doubles as a werewolf vs. detective flick: one moment Bronzi’s trench-coated gumshoe is dusting for prints, the next he’s running down bad guys in a front-end loader. It’s utterly nonsensical—and that’s exactly the point.   But oh, the cheesy goodness from the effects department! Clunky prosthetics that wobble when the werewolf snarls, practical blood squibs that spray like party poppers, $1 store eyeballs and an epic moonlit finale complete with teleporting characters and poorly timed howls. If you’re in it for goofy action set pieces and unintentional laughs, “12 to Midnight” delivers a full-throated howl. This is cult cinema at its best—so bad it’s howling good fun.

If you've ever wondered what happens when you strap an entire B‑movie budget to a shaky cam and christen it with Ice‑T's name—then promptly hand the lead role to someone who isn't him—congratulations: you've discovered 2001's airborne atrocity Air Rage (or, as I like to call it, “Fly‑Hard But Wrong”). It's exactly the kind of gleefully clueless cheese you'd expect from a Fred Olen Ray slash Jim Wynorski double feature, and that's precisely why you'll fall in love with its every misguided moment. From the opening explosions in a different movie—where our villain dreams of explosions in HIS movie—to the big reveal that Ice‑T only pops up about 45 minutes into the movie (playing a black ops infiltrator with the emotional range of a traffic cone), the movie instantly subverts expectations. You think you're signing up for a hardcore, Ice‑T‑led thriller? Nope. Our real hero is...someone else (no spoilers). Plot? It's basically “terrorists on a plane” meets “hey, why not throw in a top secret CD-ROM just for kicks?” And of course the whole scheme unravels thanks to dialogue so cheesily literal (“You're one dumb SOB, Sykes.” Sykes: "Yeah I know.") that you'll swear the screenwriters were scribbling in crayon. The action scenes bounce along with the grace of a kangaroo on Red Bull: fists connect both when they should and should not, explosions happen in the background just to remind you they owned the footage, and the stunts range from “did they even plan that?” to “wait, a plane tube?” But the pièce de résistance is the physics—or, more accurately, the complete absence thereof. Gravity politely excuses itself for the runtime. Bullets seem to curve around heads. Planes nosedive, bank, and somehow still manage to land on runway-sized targets with millimeter precision. It's like someone chucked Newton's laws out the emergency exit hatch and never looked back. All of this adds up to a riotous, unintentional joyride. If you're a fan of Fred Olen Ray's gleeful disregard for coherence or Jim Wynorski's unapologetic embrace of “that'll do” effects, Air Rage is your new cult classic. Bad? Oh, undeniably. But in the grand tradition of so‑bad‑it's‑good cinema, it's a glorious, gloriously dumb flight you won't regret taking.

A film that manages to accomplish nothing, makes us dislike the mains, but still makes us like the movie.... "Harley Davidson and the Marlboro Man" is one wild, misguided ride that desperately tries—and fails—to turn its two lead dirtballs into lovable scoundrels. Instead of evolving into charming antiheroes, they remain gloriously repulsive, wallowing in a sea of their own filth, which only adds to the film's bizarre, unintentional humor. The movie seems to have tossed the rulebook out the window. Physics takes a permanent vacation when bulletproof trench-coats, which resemble oversized garbage bags, inexplicably defy every law of nature. And let's not even get started on the leads pulling off the 15-story jump, landing in a pool as if gravity were a mere suggestion. The relationship between the two HD and MM is as shallow as it is unconvincing—they barely share a shred of genuine care, leaving audiences to wonder if they even notice the people who care about them. Their nonchalant attitude toward life and each other underlines the film's overarching failure to deliver the kind of dynamic, heartfelt camaraderie that makes buddy-adventure movies worth watching. Then there's the so-called "Great Bank" and its cadre of villains. These bad guys are a mess of drug-dealing side-hustles and a squad of armed assassins who, in a twist that's almost as puzzling as it is amusing, seem like kind of folks who jam out to Kraftwerk. Their quirky, half-baked villainy adds yet another layer of absurdity to a movie already drowning in its own incompetence. In the end, "Harley Davidson and the Marlboro Man" is a complete failure as a buddy-adventure movie. Yet, in its relentless pursuit of over-the-top, ludicrous action and its blatant disregard for reality, it manages to stink it up just enough to be oddly enjoyable—a cult classic for fans of bad movies who appreciate a film that knows exactly how to be magnificently, laughably bad.

We really were losing a war to vending machines? Electric State might just be one of the most staggering wastes of resources and talent to hit the screen in years. Armed with a ludicrous budget and an all-star cast, this movie squanders every ounce of its potential in a messy, juvenile attempt at sci-fi storytelling that only children—or perhaps the most forgiving of viewers—could enjoy. Let's start with the plot, or lack thereof. It's riddled with holes so large they could swallow entire scenes whole. Characters make inexplicable choices, key events seem to happen out of nowhere, and the emotional beats the film desperately tries to hit fall flat because nothing is earned. There's no weight, no coherence, just a loose string of visuals pretending to be a story. But hey, why write a decent script when you can drown everything in licensed music? Electric State goes full “James Gunn cosplay,” stuffing every scene with pop tracks that feel completely out of place. Instead of enhancing the emotion or tension, these needle drops undercut every serious moment and reek of desperation—like the filmmakers thought if they just played enough familiar songs, we wouldn't notice the soulless narrative underneath. Visually, yes, it's slick—but when you spend what this film spent, that's the bare minimum. The sad part is that behind the camera and in front of it are incredibly talented people. Directors, VFX artists, and A-list actors who should've known better are left adrift in a project that seems to have been greenlit purely based on aesthetics and IP potential rather than substance.   In the end, Electric State feels like the cinematic equivalent of handing a child the keys to a spaceship and hoping for the best. It's loud, shallow, and directionless, a bloated mess that burns money like rocket fuel and goes absolutely nowhere.

On this special episode the three of us sit down for a serious intervention - from bad movies! We discuss the Oscars winners that none of us saw. Wicked makes Jackie throw up. Sam praises Slow Horses and Gary Oldman's farting. We get an old staple of Pop Quiz, Hotshot. Sam complains about the supreme lack of Jello in our lives and Justin brings in a FilmStory about a dead director - WHO DUN IT!?   Enjoy and see you in a couple weeks!

Ah, Turbulence 3: Heavy Metal. A film so magnificently, obliviously ridiculous that it could only exist in the pre-9/11 era, where the greatest threat to air travel wasn't terrorism, but satanic heavy metal concerts broadcast live from a 747. Yes, that's the plot. And no, it does not get any smarter from there. Let's start with the hero we never asked for: Slade Craven (yes, that's his real name), a Marilyn Manson knockoff who looks like Hot Topic threw up on a scarecrow. This man struts onto the plane in full goth-rock regalia, sneering at everyone like he just walked out of a badly lit music video, but give him 30 minutes and he transforms from a moody poser into an airborne action hero, karate-kicking terrorists and saving the day with all the grace of a drunk dad at a Slipknot concert. Watching him go from “edgy Rockstar” to “Die Hard protagonist” is like watching Ozzy Osbourne suddenly pilot a space shuttle. It makes no sense, and that's why it's beautiful. The cast, if you can call them that, behaves less like humans and more like malfunctioning AI programmed by someone who thinks they understand human emotions. Dialogue is delivered with all the enthusiasm of a hostage video, and nobody reacts to anything with the appropriate level of concern. At one point, a terrorist hijacks the plane, and the reaction from the crew is roughly equivalent to someone realizing they forgot to pay their internet bill. And then there's Joe Mantegna, who spends every scene looking like he wandered onto the wrong set and refused to leave. His job is to play an FBI agent trying to make sense of the madness, but he mostly just stares into the abyss, radiating the same exhausted energy as a substitute teacher dealing with a class that just discovered energy drinks. You can feel him asking himself, Why am I here? The answer: we don't know, Joe. We really don't. The villains? Well, they think they're terrorists, but their actual motivation is so incoherent that by the time their master plan is revealed (summoning Satan via airplane concert???), you'll have given up on logic entirely. There's hacking, plane fights, a shockingly high number of fake Slade Cravens, and an ending so abrupt it feels like the film itself decided it had suffered enough. Turbulence 3: Heavy Metal is cinematic junk food at its absolute worst—and most entertaining. It's a movie that doesn't just jump the shark; it hijacks the shark midair, flies it into a storm, and then fights Satan on top of it. If you love bad movies, this one deserves a place on your shelf, right next to a can of expired Monster Energy and a broken Playstation 2 controller.

Fact: Real ninjas throughout history used jazz hands to assassinate their targets. "Dancing Ninja" might not be everyone's cup of tea, but if you're into a movie that revels in its own absurdity, you'll find a lot to love here. The film's corny jokes hit just the right note, and its satire—though subtle at times—adds a clever twist that keeps you on your toes. Every member of the cast and crew clearly put a tremendous amount of effort into the project, infusing each scene with passion and a genuine commitment to the film’s offbeat vision. And then there's David Hasselhoff—majestic, as always. His performance is a standout, lending the movie an unexpected layer of charm and gravitas amidst all the wild, no-holds-barred antics. "Dancing Ninja" isn’t afraid to take risks; it brings big old balls to the table and holds nothing back, making for a refreshingly bold viewing experience. In short, while this movie may not be for everyone, its unapologetic style and relentless energy are exactly what make it such a cult favorite. If you're in the mood for a film that dares to be different, "Dancing Ninja" is definitely worth a watch. Special Interview! with Harry Medved and Harry Pallenberg from "Locationland" on PBSSocal Harry and Harry have a great show in which they search out some of the hidden and forgotten locations and sets used in some of our favorite movies. Stinker Madness royalty Joe Dante and genius of the century Dana Gould guest on some of their episodes, among others. Be sure to check out their new episode about Plan Nine from Outer Space! Find all their content on YouTube:

A Murder of Time - The old "write a best-selling novel and give it to your enemy for revenge" caper "A Murder of Crows" is a nonsensical thriller that manages to take an interesting premise and turn it into a complete mess. The plot centers around a "corrupt" lawyer named Lawson, played by Cuba Gooding Jr., who, after being framed for a murder he didn't commit, goes down a rabbit hole of trying to find out who did it. Rather than doing the smart thing—turning the evidence over to the authorities—he decides to get involved in a ridiculous scheme to clear his name. What follows is a convoluted, poorly paced disaster that defies logic at every turn. First off, the characters are flat and unconvincing. Lawson, somehow manages to look both confused and smug throughout the entire movie. The villain is so dubious, it's hard to take the stakes seriously. There's no sense of tension or urgency in the narrative—just a series of random, out-of-place events that feel forced and contrived. The dialogue is clunky, and the attempts at deep philosophical musings on fate and justice come off as completely hollow. The plot twists? They're ridiculous. Rather than being suspenseful, they're more likely to make you roll your eyes and wonder how the filmmakers managed to stretch such a thin idea into a feature-length film. The whole premise is absurd. From the moment the movie starts, it feels like the writers took a random collection of crime clichés and decided to throw them together without any real thought. It's hard to understand who this film was made for—perhaps the genre's most diehard fans who are willing to suspend all reason, but for anyone else, it's a frustrating and pointless experience. "A Murder of Crows" is a poorly executed thriller that doesn't deserve your time. Save yourself the trouble and skip it.

Ever wondered what would happen if a group therapy session for people afraid of flying turned into a hostage situation? Neither did I, but Turbulence 2: Fear of Flying takes off with that premise and crashes it gloriously into the realm of “so bad it's amazing.” The Plot (LOL): The movie starts with a group of nervous fliers boarding a fancy plane to conquer their aerophobia. But mid-flight, surprise! Hijackers reveal their master plan: not only to take over the plane but also unleash a deadly chemical weapon for… reasons? A ragtag group of passengers—including a guy who conquered his fear of flying just in time—must outwit the hijackers, survive turbulence (the metaphorical kind too), and prevent the worst-case scenario. The Cast: Craig Sheffer plays the reluctant everyman hero, Ryan Weaver, who, let's face it, spends the whole movie with a mix of confusion and mild constipation. Jennifer Beals is the love interest-slash-voice of reason, adding just enough gravitas to remind us this movie had a budget. The villain? A generic, vaguely Eastern European bad guy whose motivations are so nonsensical you'll forget them halfway through the film. But hey, he's got a leather jacket and a bad attitude, so that's something! The Very Stupid Ending: Oh, the villain's "brilliant" plan? It unravels with 30 minutes left. Turns out, unleashing chemical weapons while on the same plane wasn't exactly a stroke of genius. The plot holes are large enough to fly a 747 through. By the time Ryan literally punches his way to victory (because in-flight security is no match for his fist), you'll be rooting for the plane to land just so everyone can go home and think about their life choices. Why It's So Good: The dialogue is so cheesy you'll get calcium poisoning. The special effects—mainly shaky cameras and stock footage of planes—make you nostalgic for middle school PowerPoint transitions. And the stakes? Well, let's just say the characters might survive, but logic didn't even make it through the opening credits. Final Verdict: Turbulence 2 is a disaster movie for people who love disasters—in every sense of the word. It's the cinematic equivalent of finding out your in-flight meal is a microwaved ham sandwich: disappointing, weirdly satisfying, and undeniably hilarious when you're at 30,000 feet. Grab some popcorn, and let this plane crash land straight into your guilty pleasure watchlist.

Grumpy Old Men but they can fart fire! In theory, Supervized could have been a quirky, heartfelt exploration of aging superheroes grappling with retirement, purpose, and the loss of their glory days. In practice, it's a tedious, joyless slog that squanders its promising premise on cheap gags, uninspired storytelling, and a finale so absurd it feels like the filmmakers gave up trying to make sense of their own plot. The story follows a group of retired superheroes living in a nursing home, a setting rife with potential for meaningful commentary or even genuinely funny moments. Instead, we're treated to a series of groan-worthy jokes about old age that feel like they were ripped from a 1990s sitcom. The humor never rises above the most obvious low-hanging fruit: people forgetting things, struggling with bodily functions, and being generally "out of touch." It's like the writers typed "old people jokes" into a search engine and just pasted the results into the script. The cast—featuring the likes of Tom Berenger, Beau Bridges, and Fionnula Flanagan—does its best to bring some life to the flat material, but even seasoned actors can only do so much with dialogue this uninspired. Berenger's attempt to imbue his character with gravitas falls flat amidst the ham-fisted writing, while Bridges is left to play the clichéd role of the wacky sidekick who barely lands a laugh. As the film stumbles through its predictable and uninspired first two acts, you might hope for a twist or some emotional payoff to salvage the experience. Unfortunately, what you get instead is a third act so spectacularly stupid it feels like a parody of itself. The plot collapses into a nonsensical mess involving a villainous conspiracy and a half-baked action sequence that looks cheaper than your average cosplay convention. Supervized is a movie for no one. It takes an almost-interesting concept and smothers it with tired jokes, clunky dialogue, and an insulting lack of imagination. If you want to feel crappy about getting old, there are better options—watch About Schmidt or even The Bucket List. At least those films respect their audience enough to deliver something resembling insight or emotional depth. Avoid Supervized at all costs. It's not just a bad superhero movie; it's an affront to anyone who was hoping for even the faintest spark of creativity.

Give that Joe guy a raise! Everything else though.... Fanatic, released in 1982 and later distributed by Troma under the title The Last Horror Film, is an ambitious yet confused attempt at blending psychological thriller, horror, satire, and social commentary. Directed by David Winters, the film follows Vinny Durand (Joe Spinell), a socially awkward taxi driver in New York who dreams of becoming a Hollywood filmmaker. Vinny's obsession with horror star Jana Bates (Caroline Munro) takes a dark turn when he follows her to the Cannes Film Festival, believing he can convince her to star in his debut film. Soon, people connected to Jana begin to disappear, leaving the audience to wonder if Vinny's fantasies have turned murderous. On the surface, Fanatic has all the trappings of a Taxi Driver knockoff, with Spinell's Vinny bearing eerie similarities to De Niro's Travis Bickle: a lonely man whose delusions of grandeur lead to a disturbing descent into obsession. However, where Taxi Driver offers a focused character study and searing critique of urban decay, Fanatic meanders between tones, never quite deciding what it wants to be. Is it a darkly comedic jab at the absurdity of the film industry, with its over-the-top Cannes sequences and caricatured players? A horror film dissecting the dangers of unchecked fandom? Or a social critique of anti-horror activists and censorship? The movie flirts with all these ideas but fails to commit to any, leaving the audience in a muddled state of uncertainty. There's undeniable charm in its chaotic ambition, but the result is a mishmash of clashing themes and tonal inconsistencies. What Fanatic does have, however, is Joe Spinell. His performance is nothing short of extraordinary, especially given the film's modest budget. Spinell imbues Vinny with a mix of vulnerability, creepiness, and manic energy that is utterly captivating. His ability to oscillate between pitiable and menacing elevates the film far beyond what one might expect from a low-budget production, especially one released by Troma. Spinell's portrayal is a masterclass in character work, showing what can be achieved even in a film with clear limitations. Despite its flaws, Fanatic has its moments of intrigue and campy fun. The Cannes backdrop offers a unique setting for a horror film, and there's an undeniable novelty in watching Spinell and Munro share the screen again after Maniac. But for all its ambition, Fanatic ultimately bites off more than it can chew. It's a film that tries to be everything and ends up being little more than a curiosity piece—worth watching for Spinell's mesmerizing performance, but a frustrating experience for those hoping for cohesion or a clear narrative purpose.

"Fair Game" is the cinematic equivalent of a rollercoaster ride designed by someone who forgot to include safety measures, plot coherence, or the laws of physics—and somehow, it’s a blast to watch. Starring William Baldwin as Miami cop Max Kirkpatrick and Cindy Crawford as Kate McQuean, a sexy lawyer who becomes the inexplicable target of a rogue KGB faction, this movie is a glorious 90 minutes of car chases, explosions, and dialogue so wooden it could be used to build a log cabin. The Plot (If You Can Call It That) Kate McQuean, a lawyer who apparently moonlights as a fashion model (judging by her perpetual runway-ready appearance), files a lawsuit involving a derelict freighter owned by the bad guys. Naturally, this lawsuit sets off a chain reaction where the Russian mafia—consisting of the most cartoonishly evil ex-KGB agents imaginable—decides she must die at all costs. Why? Because, apparently, the freighter is tied to their secret cyber-criminal empire. Enter Max Kirkpatrick, a Miami cop with a perpetually bemused expression and an impressive ability to dodge bullets and logic. After an initial attack on Kate’s life, Max takes her on the run in a series of increasingly absurd scenarios involving exploding cars, shootouts, and moments that seem ripped from a B-grade romance novel. Along the way, they grow inexplicably closer—because nothing says “true love” like dodging RPGs and trading awkward one-liners. The Stupidity of the Plot (An Ode to Roger Ebert's "The Idiot Plot") According to Roger Ebert, the "Idiot Plot" is a story that would be resolved in five minutes if everyone involved weren't complete idiots. Fair Game not only adheres to this definition—it raises it to an art form. Why Is Kate Still Alive?The bad guys spend the entire movie trying to kill her with the kind of overcomplicated schemes that would make a Bond villain cringe. Why not just, you know, shoot her during the first attack? Or during any of the many opportunities when she’s standing perfectly still? Because then the movie would be 10 minutes long, and we wouldn’t get to see Cindy Crawford clinging to a speeding train in a crop top. The Villains’ PlanThese are supposed to be elite ex-KGB agents, yet their plan revolves around a freighter, some random lawsuit, and an incomprehensible desire to destroy a woman who poses zero actual threat to their operations. Did these guys miss the "Espionage 101" class? Or did they just want an excuse to blow up every car in Miami? The RomanceMax and Kate’s relationship is the kind of thing you’d expect from a bad fanfiction. They go from mutual disdain to making out amidst a hail of bullets, because apparently surviving death traps is the ultimate aphrodisiac. Their chemistry is nonexistent, but who cares? The movie is too busy exploding everything in sight to notice. Physics Be DamnedFrom cars defying gravity to bulletproof mattresses, Fair Game operates in a universe where physics is optional. It’s like a live-action cartoon, but with more cleavage and sweat. The Verdict Fair Game is a masterpiece of unintentional hilarity. It’s a movie so inept that it loops back around to being entertaining. Baldwin looks confused, Crawford delivers every line like she’s reading a menu, and the plot...well, the plot is just an excuse for things to go BOOM. And honestly? We wouldn’t have it any other way. Grab some popcorn, suspend every ounce of disbelief you have, and enjoy the absurd chaos. Just don’t try to make sense of it. That way lies madness.

Don't have enough plot to get to 3 hours? Just restate the plot of the movie 3 times and give your movie an hour of free time. "Happy New Year" has all the makings of an enjoyable Bollywood blockbuster—a promising story, decent acting, likable characters, and a handful of genuinely fun sequences. On paper, this sounds like a surefire recipe for entertainment. However, the film quickly falls prey to the worst habits of Bollywood: unnecessary bloat, juvenile execution, and a lifeless narrative that seems more concerned with padding out its 3-hour runtime than telling a compelling story. The plot, while intriguing in concept, drags at a snail's pace, feeling like it's perpetually stuck in quicksand. Every time the story starts to gain momentum, it's bogged down by excessive filler, cheesy humor, or melodramatic detours that add nothing to the overall experience. The immaturity of the film's tone further undercuts its potential, making even its heartfelt moments feel contrived and insincere. At its core, "Happy New Year" feels like a hollow vehicle designed to sell records of its overhyped soundtrack. Any spark of originality or excitement is sucked out in favor of cookie-cutter dance numbers and uninspired montages. The result is a film that overstays its welcome, exhausting the viewer long before the credits roll. It's a shame because there are glimmers of a much better movie buried underneath the excess. Unfortunately, this could have been an entertaining caper but ended up being a tedious slog instead. Bollywood can do better, and audiences deserve better.

It's really no wonder the Nazis lost the war. They are just too stupid. Antichristmas! If you've ever wondered what would happen if a department store Santa got tangled up in a Nazi plot involving an evil elf, virgin sacrifice, and the Fourth Reich, then boy, do I have the movie for you. Elves (1989) isn't just a bad movie—it's a certifiable fever dream of absurdity, incompetence, and the kind of misguided ambition that makes it impossible to look away. Strap in, folks, because this isn't your average Christmas horror flick; it's a trainwreck wrapped in tinsel and doused in eggnog-flavored LSD. The Elf: Discount Gremlin in the Clearance Bin Let's start with the titular "elf." If you're expecting some sinister, well-designed creature, think again. The elf in Elves looks like it was cobbled together with paper mâché, a glue gun, and leftover Halloween masks from a garage sale. It's about as mobile as a garden gnome and spends most of its time menacingly staring—or, more accurately, just sitting there while the actors pretend to be scared. This thing couldn't terrorize a toddler, let alone usher in the apocalypse. The Plot: A Nazi Conspiracy, But Make It Festive You know a movie is destined for greatness when the plot hinges on Nazis breeding an elf to create the Antichrist. And the plan? Have said elf mate with a virgin before midnight on Christmas Eve. Because, of course, that's the logical way to bring about the Fourth Reich. Never mind that this plan relies entirely on the elf being both horny and punctual. The sheer stupidity of it all is chef's kiss. It's like someone spun a wheel of bad ideas and just ran with everything it landed on. The plot holes are big enough to fly a sleigh through. For instance, how is this elaborate Nazi elf scheme thwarted? Mostly by the combined incompetence of everyone involved. It's almost laughable how easily the heroes stumble into foiling it—imagine if someone like, I don't know, the mall cop had been paying attention. They'd have wrapped this whole thing up in ten minutes. Dan Haggerty: Santa's Hungover Cousin Dan Haggerty stars as Mike, a chain-smoking ex-detective who looks like Santa's cousin who didn't make the Nice List. Haggerty spends the entire movie sleepwalking through his lines with the charisma of a wet sock. His delivery is so wooden it's a miracle he doesn't spontaneously combust near the Christmas tree. And drunk? Oh, you bet. Whether he actually was or he's just an acting savant, there's an undeniable “boozy uncle” energy that only adds to the film's charm. Watching him go toe-to-toe with Nazi elves is a gift that keeps on giving. The Scenes: Bonkers with a Bow On Top Every scene in Elves feels like it was conceived in a vacuum of logic and coherence. Highlights include: A little boy staring at his sister's nude body and then getting into a tickle fight with her. Yipes! The icy cold mom getting electrocuted in the tub and teaching Ben Kingsley about death scenes. The elf randomly stabbing people, despite having no visible motor skills. Dan Haggerty barging into a Christmas dinner only to have the dad explain the Nazi/Virgin/Elf/Impregnate scheme in front of his family. By the time the movie wraps up, you'll be questioning your life choices but also kind of thankful for the chaos you just witnessed. Final Thoughts: The Christmas Catastrophe You Didn't Know You Needed Elves is a rare gem that transcends badness and loops back around into brilliance. It's not a movie; it's an experience. From the laughable special effects to the sheer audacity of its plot, to Dan Haggerty looking like he'd rather be anywhere else, Elves is the gift that keeps on giving. Gather your friends, crack open some drinks, and bask in the glow of a movie so insane it's practically a holiday tradition waiting to happen. Merry Christmas, you filthy animals. ⯑⯑

It's definitely not "garbage day" at Kim's place. Get a broom, woman! Oh, Silent Night, Deadly Night 4: Initiation. Where do I even begin with this glorious, messy fever dream of a movie? This isn't just bad—it's transcendentally bad. The kind of bad that rockets past mere mediocrity into the stratosphere of so-bizarre-you-can't-look-away. It's like a snowglobe filled with pure nonsense, shaken up, and dumped all over the screen. Let's start with the story—or whatever approximation of a story this is. Something about witchcraft? Reincarnation? Slugs? And Christmas? The plot (if you can call it that) unravels like a stream-of-consciousness poem written by someone halfway through a mushroom trip. Every scene feels like it was written in isolation, handed off to a new writer, and then smashed together without a second glance. It's the cinematic equivalent of someone trying to explain their nightmare to you: incoherent, surreal, and yet, oddly captivating. Each moment begs the question: "What the heck am I even watching?" And honestly, I'm not sure if the world's greatest philosophers, theologians, and Reddit theorists combined could figure it out. And oh, the acting. Special mention goes to our lead actress, whose performance is... something else. She delivers her lines with the charisma of a day-old bagel, and her reactions to the increasingly absurd situations around her are so wooden they could give Pinocchio a run for his money. Yet somehow, this adds to the film's charm. Her complete inability to sell the madness she's surrounded by only amplifies the chaos, like she herself wandered onto set accidentally and decided to just roll with it. Now let's talk about the gross-out factor. This movie is disgustingly, gleefully out of place with its grotesque visuals. Slugs. Melted corpses. Weird ritual goo. It's like someone decided to combine The Fly with Rosemary's Baby but threw in some festive tinsel as a last-minute afterthought. And yet...it's fascinating. You can't help but marvel at the sheer audacity of it all. Christmas horror should not involve this much slime, and yet here we are, neck-deep in it. But truly, the crowning jewel of Initiation is its sheer unintelligibility. You will laugh. You will cry (out of confusion). You will desperately wish for a panel of scientists to explain why there's a scene where giant bugs crawl out of a man's stomach. And still, you'll love every nonsensical moment because it's so unabashedly weird and earnest in its ridiculousness. If you're looking for a holiday classic that's as delightfully deranged as a fruitcake filled with live eels, Silent Night, Deadly Night 4 is your movie. It's the perfect trainwreck to watch with friends, preferably with a few spiked eggnogs, as you collectively try to figure out just how this movie ever got made. Spoiler alert: you won't. But the fun is in the attempt.

So the kaiju is a half-turkey/half-shopper hybrid. That helps.... a little. Black Friday had the potential to be a fun and memorable addition to the horror-comedy genre. The premise of retail workers battling zombified Black Friday shoppers is clever, relatable, and ripe for satirical commentary on consumer culture. Unfortunately, the execution leaves much to be desired, resulting in a film that struggles to rise above mediocrity. While the movie isn't outright terrible, it's glaringly uncreative. From the predictable character archetypes to the formulaic progression of the plot, it feels like a patchwork of familiar tropes we've seen countless times before. There's the disgruntled manager, the plucky misfit hero, and the obligatory chaos of people turning into monsters, but none of it is done in a way that feels fresh or inventive. The humor, which should have been the film's saving grace, rarely lands. It relies on stale, low-hanging jokes rather than sharp wit or clever dialogue. Even the horror elements fall flat, with generic creature designs and uninspired set pieces that fail to leave an impression. The film tries to balance comedy and scares but ends up doing neither particularly well. That's not to say Black Friday is without merit. The cast, which includes horror veteran Bruce Campbell, brings some charm to the proceedings, and there are a few fleeting moments of entertainment. But these highlights aren't enough to compensate for the lackluster script and lack of originality. In the end, Black Friday is a forgettable experience. It's not a bad movie, but it's far from memorable. With its promising concept, it could have been so much more, but as it stands, it's just another derivative entry in a genre filled with better alternatives. Watch it if you're bored, but don't expect to be wowed.

What is the point of any of this??? What does life even mean anymore?!?! Watching Alone in the Dark is like stepping into a surreal nightmare where logic, talent, and coherence take a permanent vacation. Directed by Uwe Boll, the film somehow manages to turn a moderately creepy video game series into a cinematic trainwreck so inexplicably bad it's almost mesmerizing. Let's start with Tara Reid, whose performance as "Dr. Aline Cedrac" is the kind of thing you'd expect from someone who Googled “archaeologist” five minutes before arriving on set. Reid delivers lines like she's trying to remember if she left the oven on, her scientist character less "Indiana Jones" and more "lost intern who wandered into the wrong set." Her chemistry with Christian Slater is nonexistent—though to be fair, Slater himself looks like he's plotting his escape mid-scene. The plot is the cinematic equivalent of dumping puzzle pieces from three different games onto the floor and calling it "art." Something about ancient artifacts, a secret government agency, monsters from another dimension, and the unexplained disappearance of common sense. Characters reference backstories and motivations that the movie never bothers to show or explain, leaving viewers wondering if they accidentally skipped an hour. But don't worry—it wouldn't make sense even if you had the context. Nothing in this world adheres to any internal logic. The creatures are impervious to bullets until they suddenly aren't, characters forget their own objectives, and physics behaves like it's being controlled by a drunken toddler with a dartboard. There's a moment when flashlights become pivotal to survival, except the characters don't seem particularly invested in keeping them working. Why? Who knows! Consistency is for amateurs. Then there's the action, if you can call it that. Imagine someone yelling, “Action!” and the cast collectively deciding to flop around and fire guns into the dark. The choreography is stilted, the editing is headache-inducing, and the monster effects are so bad they look like rejected renders from a 90s PC game. Somehow, Uwe Boll takes things that should be inherently exciting—gunfights, explosions, and supernatural horror—and makes them as thrilling as watching beige paint dry. And yet, in its complete and utter failure at being a movie, Alone in the Dark achieves a kind of perverse charm. It's like a black hole of quality so dense it warps reality into something entertaining. You can't help but laugh at the absurdity of it all—the wooden acting, the nonsensical dialogue, the budget-bin special effects. It's a film you watch with friends, drinks, and the understanding that you're witnessing a masterpiece of mediocrity. Verdict: Alone in the Dark is not just bad—it's spectacularly, gloriously, hilariously bad. For aficionados of cinematic disasters, it's a must-watch. For everyone else? Save yourself.

What happens when a B-list horror film tackles small town romance, anthropology, and…vampire bureacracy? This movie takes us to a vampire-infested Salem's Lot, where the acting is about as wooden as the stakes they should be driving into these vamps' chests. The lead actors deliver their lines with the enthusiasm of someone half-listening to a bad knock-knock joke, and I swear the child actor spent more time looking at the camera than playing a convincing kid. But it doesn't matter, because that's part of the charm. The vampires in A Return to Salem's Lot redefine what it means to be bloodsucking undead. First, they feel the need to sit you down for a full-blown vampire lecture series, explaining their origins and why they drink blood as if they're some misunderstood subculture rather than, you know, predators of the night. The amount of time they spend philosophizing about vampirism makes you wonder if they're vying for tenure at the local community college rather than dominating the human race. They're so bad at being vampires, it almost seems like they're on a trial period—experimenting with their nocturnal lifestyle, second-guessing their fangs, and generally acting like vampires who accidentally got bitten and are just trying to make the best of it. Then, out of nowhere, comes Van Meer—the anthropologist-turned-vampire-slayer who actually gives this movie a reason to exist. The man is a total badass, with the wisdom of Gandalf and the "not here for this nonsense" energy of every grumpy old man who has ever lived. Van Meer doesn't just kick vampire ass—he clobbers it, struts into scenes like he's about to win an award for "Best Scene Stealer in a Horror Flick" and delivers lines with such unearned gravitas that you can't help but root for him. So, is A Return to Salem's Lot a good movie? No. But is it an awesome movie? You bet your fangs it is. If you're in the mood for vampires who suck at being vampires and a hero who looks like he walked in from an entirely different (better) movie, this one's worth sinking your teeth into.

Maybe the "safety bar" is the problem with your death machine. If you're looking for a horror movie that makes you laugh, wince, and question your own sanity, The Mangler is an absolute gem. Based on Stephen King's short story, this 1995 film takes a wild swing at horror and lands somewhere deep in the realm of “so bad it's good.” At its core, The Mangler has one of the most baffling plots imaginable. The villain? A haunted, soul-sucking industrial laundry press. Yes, you read that right—a laundry press that inexplicably develops a bloodlust. It's so absurd that you can't help but be intrigued. How do you make a piece of machinery terrifying? You'll just have to watch and see, but let's just say the movie's plot twists somehow take this ridiculous concept and push it even further, to dizzying, laugh-inducing extremes. The dialogue is a beautiful mess, filled with lines that are equal parts stilted and unintentionally hilarious. The characters often sound as if they're making things up on the spot, adding to the overall bewilderment as you try to understand what's going on in the film's world. Then, of course, we have Robert Englund and Ted Levine giving some of the most over-the-top performances you'll ever see. Englund, clad in makeup that makes him look like a human-machine hybrid nightmare, completely commits to his role as the evil factory owner with a sadistic glee that's infectious. Levine, as the grizzled cop, is both confused and determined, delivering every line with a mixture of desperation and bemusement that's just... amazing to watch. You get the sense he might be wondering what's going on as much as the audience is. Together, these elements make The Mangler a fascinating train wreck, a "what the heck is going on" rollercoaster that's perfect for fans of unintentionally funny horror. It's a riotously bizarre film experience that you simply have to see to believe. Whether you're a horror fan or just someone who enjoys the absurd, The Mangler is the perfect bad-good movie for a night of laughs and confusion. Grab some popcorn, suspend all disbelief, and enjoy the twisted, baffling spectacle that is The Mangler.

Gee, I don't know. Who could it be...? Could it be....SATAN???? Look, if you're going to watch Split Second, leave logic at the door, forget everything you know about biology, physics, or coherent storytelling, and just hold on for one wild, wonderfully ludicrous ride. This movie is a masterclass in "so bad it's good" cinema, a staggering tribute to neon-lit nonsense where none of it makes sense, but you'll be too busy laughing, cringing, and cheering to care. The plot? A near-future London suffering from the Great Flood of Questionable Sets, where a grizzled Rutger Hauer, rocking sunglasses indoors and some of the best action-movie hair around, plays a detective haunted by a shadowy, possibly-mutant killer that may or may not be Satan himself. Or is he a mutant? Or some kind of sewer-dwelling rat-beast with demonic tendencies? We never really figure it out, and that only adds to the glorious nonsense. Hauer's character, Stone, has the personality of a rabid bulldog and the caffeine intake to match, which, let's be real, might be the best part of the entire movie. Every scene sees him grinding through his lines like he's auditioning for Die Hard meets Mad Max, and his chemistry with his awkward partner, Dick Durkin (Neil Duncan), feels like it was lifted from a buddy cop fever dream. The scenes where Durkin goes from bumbling sidekick to gun-toting maniac after his own rapid-fire character development are cinematic gems that feel like they belong in an entirely different movie—and yet, they're perfect. As for the villain, well, if there were a Golden Globe for “Most Bizarre, Undefined Movie Monster,” this one would win it. The creature's appearance is equal parts Venom and religious cyborg, and its motives? Who cares! Sometimes it's better not to ask questions. All we know is that it's drawn to hearts (as in, literally ripping them out) and seems to have an unhealthy obsession with Hauer's character, for reasons the movie wisely decides not to explain. Is the movie dumb? Absolutely. Is it chaotic? You bet. But if you're looking for a good time, Split Second delivers the kind of gleeful, cheesy absurdity that's just begging for a midnight viewing with friends. So grab your popcorn, turn off your brain, and embrace the gloriously baffling thrill ride that is Split Second.

Well, you could always just lock the door that contains aliens hell-bent on destroying lives, MacCready. Hobgoblins (1988) is the kind of classic cinematic disaster that bad movie connoisseurs dream of. It's a true gem in the "so-bad-it's-good" genre, serving up every ridiculous trope you could hope for with a straight face. The budget is, to put it kindly, non-existent. You can almost hear the coins jingling in the director's pocket as they make every possible corner-cut. The "hobgoblins" themselves—clearly puppets—are so laughably bad that you can't help but wonder if they were purchased at a yard sale. They wobble, flop, and seem to be more interested in starring in a middle school production than in wreaking havoc. The acting? Let's just say the cast appears to have been picked up from a local mall food court. The dialogue delivery is awkward at best and painful at worst, with a cast that seems genuinely confused as to whether they're in a horror film or a comedy. But therein lies part of its charm: this is a movie that doesn't know what it's doing, and it's doing it with complete sincerity. The plot is a fever dream that barely holds together. Some sort of government warehouse holds dangerous creatures (because of course it does), and these hobgoblins have the power to make people's fantasies come true—though how or why is a question the film couldn't be bothered to answer. The rules of the film's universe break constantly, which somehow adds to the chaos and comedy, especially when you stop trying to make sense of it. Why are the hobgoblins doing any of this? Who cares! This is all about the ride. If you're into riffing, Hobgoblins is a riffer's paradise. The unintentional humor is endless, and every scene begs to be torn apart by a quick wit. Between the atrocious puppetry, nonsensical plot twists, and wooden performances, you're in for a treat if your idea of fun is mercilessly mocking a film. To be clear, Hobgoblins is not for everyone. It's the cinematic equivalent of a dumpster fire: fascinating to watch, but only for those who appreciate the beauty of the burn. For the advanced class of bad movie lovers, though, this is a must-watch. It's a perfect storm of everything you love to hate about bad movies, and it will leave you grinning at its sheer ineptitude.

Sure, it's super budget and leads with a crazy murder theme but that's not enough to stay in the game. "Splatter University" starts with a flash of promise, diving right into the action with a bloody opening scene that hints at a thrilling ride ahead. Unfortunately, that promise quickly fizzles out, and what follows is an hour and a half of filler material that seems thrown in just to pad the runtime. The film struggles to build any real momentum, relying on scenes that add little or nothing to the central plot. Instead of ratcheting up the tension or developing the mystery, it meanders through pointless side plots and unengaging character moments that make it tough to stay invested. For a movie in the slasher genre, you'd expect more focus on building suspense or delivering scares, but instead, "Splatter University" leaves you counting down the minutes until it's over. Ultimately, this film falls short of delivering the thrills it promises and ends up a slog. With plenty of superior slasher flicks from the same era, "Splatter University" is an easy one to skip.

If you've ever wanted to have a bunch of random stuff coming at you, well this is for you. Not so much for anyone else though. "Comin' At Ya!" is an odd entry into the world of Spaghetti Westerns, one that leans heavily on its 3D gimmicks to differentiate itself from the pack. However, once you strip away the over-the-top, in-your-face 3D stunts, what’s left is a fairly standard, if not forgettable, Western. The plot is basic, the characters serviceable, and while it checks off most of the genre’s boxes—dusty landscapes, gunfights, and a revenge story—it doesn't bring anything particularly new or exciting to the table. The real selling point is the 3D, but even that feels more egregious than entertaining. Spears, snakes, and babies fly at you in a barrage of visual tricks, but the novelty wears thin quickly. Instead of making the movie so bad it's good, the 3D elements just end up feeling like a desperate attempt to spice up an otherwise average film. It’s a fun time capsule of early 80s gimmick cinema, but beyond that, "Comin' At Ya!" is more of a curious footnote in Western history than a must-watch cult classic.

Grieco didn't need sticky spy shoes. He could have just used his hair gel to stick to any wall. "If Looks Could Kill" starring Richard Grieco is a delightful surprise that defies expectations in the best way possible. Known for his more serious and brooding roles, Grieco takes a refreshing turn in this zany action-comedy, delivering a performance that's as energetic as it is unexpected. This movie is the epitome of early '90s charm: it's corny, it's cheesy, and it's packed with jokes that initially might make you roll your eyes, but stick around, because much like someone with an unstoppable case of bad gas, it soon becomes a riot of laughs. The first few jokes might make you groan, but before you know it, you're giggling at every ridiculous quip and over-the-top stunt. It's almost like the movie dares you to not take it seriously—and that's where the fun really begins. The plot is absurdly entertaining, following Grieco's character, Michael Corben, a high school student who accidentally gets mistaken for a secret agent while on a school trip to France. The ensuing chaos is a roller coaster of wild car chases, explosive gadgets, and villainous plots that seem like they were pulled straight from a comic book. The humor is relentless, with each scene seemingly trying to outdo the last in terms of sheer goofiness. The villains are over-the-top caricatures, the action sequences are delightfully exaggerated, and Grieco's transformation from clueless teenager to accidental hero is a joy to watch. The film doesn't shy away from leaning into its own silliness, and that's exactly what makes it so endearing. "If Looks Could Kill" might not win any awards for subtlety, but it's an absolute blast if you're in the mood for something lighthearted and fun. It's the kind of movie that you start watching with a skeptical smile, and by the end, you're laughing out loud, appreciating the fact that sometimes it's okay to just enjoy a film for its pure, unabashed absurdity. It's a cult classic for anyone who loves their action comedies with a hefty dose of cheese.

They put commercials on this platform and we then give us this garbage? Maybe time to switch to cable.... "Jackpot" (2024) is an absolute disaster from the get-go. The plot is so implausible that it feels like it couldn't exist in any universe, let alone ours. Nothing about it makes sense, and from the opening scenes, you're left scratching your head, wondering why the writers even bothered. The jokes? If you can call them that—seem unfinished, like someone wrote the setup and forgot to add the punchline. You're constantly waiting for a laugh that never comes. It's awkward, and the humor falls completely flat. The core premise of Jackpot (2024) is so utterly absurd that it crumbles under the weight of its own illogic within the first few minutes. The entire film revolves around the idea that if you win a massive lottery, you are immediately hunted by the entire state of California. Yes, you read that right—if you're lucky enough to hit the jackpot, your life instantly turns into a non-stop manhunt, where literally everyone is out to kill you. So, naturally, the question that comes to mind is: Why in the world would anyone buy a lottery ticket? Think about it—nobody in their right mind would want to win, because the moment they do, their life is effectively over. Instead, the incentive in this ridiculous world is to not win, but to track down and kill the unlucky winner. This bizarre twist undermines the entire concept of a lottery in the first place. Lotteries exist because people want to win huge amounts of money. In Jackpot, the goal seems to be the opposite—everyone is actively rooting for someone else to win so they can hunt them down. This paradox creates a plot that is fundamentally impossible. If no one wants to win, the lottery can't work. It's like creating a race where the objective is to lose but expecting everyone to keep competing. The action sequences are equally frustrating. They're so vague and poorly choreographed that it's nearly impossible to tell what's going on. It feels like you're watching someone play a video game with the brightness turned down and no clear objectives. And then, they go ahead and kill Sean William Scott in the first ten minutes. Seriously? That's an instant walk-away moment for me. If you're going to take out one of the few redeeming qualities of a movie so early on, what's even the point? "Jackpot" is an absolute failure, and I wouldn't recommend it to anyone looking for a coherent story, solid laughs, or even enjoyable action. Skip it.

You can't put lipstick on a pig but you can wear its eyebrows and escape the law! *"Thunder" (1984) is one of those films that's so bad it's almost good. From the over-the-top acting to the bizarre plot, it's a movie that knows how to entertain, even if it's not in the way it intended. The acting is hilariously exaggerated, with characters delivering lines in a way that makes you wonder if they were trying to win an award for the most awkward performance. It's hard not to chuckle at the sheer silliness of it all. The plot is a strange mishmash of clichés, with twists that come out of nowhere and leave you scratching your head. It's like the filmmakers threw every idea they had into a blender and hoped for the best. The result? A weirdly captivating story that keeps you watching, if only to see what ridiculous thing happens next. The action sequences aren't exactly top-tier but are great. The choreography is clunky and poorly executed, the stunts are dangerous, and the explosions are way too big. But, honestly, that's part of the charm. There's something fun about watching a chase scene where the car crashes look like everyone died but the characters have little injury. Sure, the movie can drag at times, especially when it takes itself a little too seriously. But the unintentionally funny moments more than make up for the slow patches. If you're in the mood for a laugh and don't mind a bit of 80s cheese, "Thunder" is definitely worth a watch. Just don't expect anything Hall of Fame-worthy!

You think you can take me? Well go ahead on and watch this stinker from Greydon Clark. "Final Justice" (1984) is a film that occupies a peculiar space in the action genre, and how much you'll enjoy it hinges heavily on your tolerance for low-budget absurdity. At the center of this bizarre movie is Joe Don Baker's portrayal of Thomas Jefferson Geronimo, a tough-as-nails Texas cop who, unfortunately, ends up being more laughable than intimidating. Baker's Geronimo feels like a caricature of every 1980s action hero, but without the charisma or the compelling edge needed to pull it off. Instead, we're left with a character that stumbles through the movie with more groans than grins. The action sequences, intended to be thrilling, often border on the ridiculous, with character decisions that are so baffling they verge on parody. Whether it's Geronimo's relentless pursuit of criminals across Europe or the frequent and illogical shootouts, the film constantly challenges the suspension of disbelief. And yet, these moments might be where some viewers find their entertainment—if you're into movies that are so bad they're good, this could be your thing. Unfortunately, much of the film is bogged down by long stretches of tedium, where plot elements are repeated to the point of exhaustion. What might have been intended as humorous instead feels like a never-ending loop of dullness. The narrative itself is a mess, a baffling mix of cop clichés and bizarre plot twists that don't seem to lead anywhere meaningful. In the end, "Final Justice" is a movie that might appeal to a niche audience who enjoys dissecting and mocking bad cinema. But for most, it's likely to be an exercise in patience. If you have a taste for the absurdly bad and can appreciate it for its sheer ridiculousness, there might be something here for you. Otherwise, you may find yourself wishing for a more competent action flick.

A great movie if you're part of the "under the sweater/over the bra" crowd, but even they won't remember that they saw it. Tarot (2024) is an absolute masterclass in how not to make a horror movie unless you are just providing background noise for teenagers to make out. If you ever wondered what happens when you throw every horror cliché, plot hole, and half-baked character motivation into a blender, this is it. The result is a film so dumb and poorly thought out that it almost circles back around to being entertaining—for all the wrong reasons. From the get-go, Tarot feels like a checklist of horror tropes. Creepy old woman? Check. Spooky house? Check. Jump scares every five minutes? Double check. It's as if the writers Googled "horror clichés" and decided to use every single one, especially stealing from Evil Dead and Final Destination. But that's not even the worst of it. The plot is an incoherent mess, with gaping holes large enough to drive a truck through. Characters make baffling decisions with motivations that seem to change depending on the scene—or, more likely, on the whims of whoever was holding the pen that day. The acting? Let's just say that calling it appalling might be too kind. Every line is delivered with the enthusiasm of someone who just realized they left the oven on at home. The humor, if you can call it that, is cringeworthy at best. It feels like the movie is trying desperately to be self-aware, but instead, it comes off as painfully awkward. And yet... there's something about Tarot that makes it oddly watchable, at least for certain audiences. If you're a fan of bad movies, you'll probably find some enjoyment in how ridiculous it all is. It's also the perfect flick for teenagers looking for an excuse to make out in the back row of the theater while pretending to watch the screen. In short, Tarot is a trainwreck of a horror film, but if you enjoy watching a disaster unfold, you might just find yourself entertained—for all the wrong reasons.

The Lucio Fulci movie that more people should be talking about may just be so weird its good? "Conquest" is one of those bizarre gems that defies logic, reason, and possibly all known laws of filmmaking. From the opening frame, you're catapulted into a world where absolutely nothing makes sense—and that's the beauty of it. The plot (if you can call it that) revolves around two warriors, Mace and Ilias, who embark on a quest to stop an evil, topless sorceress who wears a metal mask and is clearly compensating for something. Why? Who knows! The movie doesn't bother to explain, and honestly, it doesn't matter. The action scenes are a special kind of weird. Imagine slow-motion combat sequences where everyone moves like they're underwater, yet somehow, limbs are still getting chopped off left and right. The gore is gratuitous, and I mean gratuity with a capital G. There's blood spraying everywhere, heads getting smashed for no reason, and enough fake entrails to make you wonder if they bought out an entire Halloween store. The nudity? Oh, it's there—just about every 10 minutes, the film throws in a random naked person for no discernible reason other than, well, why not? If you're looking for plot relevance, you're in the wrong movie. The special effects and costumes are so corny and cheesy that you almost feel like you're watching a live-action cartoon—except way more violent. The monsters look like they were assembled out of leftover Muppets, and the villain's henchmen wear masks that make them look like rejected extras from a bad '70s sci-fi show. And the music? Imagine a synth-heavy score that somehow makes everything feel both epic and hilariously out of place, like if someone played a disco track during a gladiator battle. It's that level of weirdness. In the end, "Conquest" is like a fever dream wrapped in a bad acid trip dipped in melted cheese. It's one of those rare films where everything is so bizarrely wrong that it becomes impossibly right. If you love movies that make you question your life choices, while also making you laugh at how absurdly terrible they are, "Conquest" is your golden ticket. Enjoy the ride—you'll never forget it, no matter how hard you try.

Stick around or don't move, but Reb Brown is gonna give you the laughs. "Robowar" (1988) is a cinematic masterpiece of unintentional hilarity. This unapologetic rip-off of "Predator" is an absolute must-watch for fans of 'so bad it's good' cinema. From the moment Reb Brown graces the screen with his over-the-top action antics and unintentionally comedic acting, you'll be hooked. Brown's performance is a perfect blend of earnestness and absurdity, making every scene he's in a joy to watch. The plot, if you can call it that, is a shameless copy of "Predator." However, instead of being an edge-of-your-seat thriller, "Robowar" delivers non-stop laughs. The antagonist, "The Hunter," is a laughably awful attempt at creating a menacing villain. With a costume that looks like it was thrown together from spare parts and a performance that can only be described as cartoonish, "The Hunter" is more likely to make you chuckle than cower in fear. Let's not forget the music. Oh, the music! It's so fantastically bad that it deserves its own standing ovation. The soundtrack seems to be perpetually stuck in the 80s, complete with synth-heavy tracks that feel out of place and add an extra layer of comedy to the film's already ridiculous scenes. Every moment of "Robowar" is filled with something that will make you laugh out loud, whether it's the wooden dialogue, the nonsensical plot twists, or the sheer audacity of its "Predator" mimicry. This is a movie that fully embraces its B-movie status and offers a viewing experience that's as entertaining as it is unintentionally funny. If you're in the mood for a film that's so bad it's good, "Robowar" is the perfect choice. Grab some popcorn, gather your friends, and get ready for a night of side-splitting laughter at this gloriously awful gem.

Just because it doesn't have a story or characters or any basis in reality doesn't mean its bad, right? "Twisters" (2024) is a whirlwind of nostalgic fun that takes you back to the golden era of 90's blockbusters. While it may lack a compelling story, character depth, and a meaningful journey, it's a film that embraces its cheesy charm with gusto. From the first gust of wind to the last dramatic tornado scene, "Twisters" is an exhilarating ride that doesn't take itself too seriously. The visual effects are stunning, with the twisters themselves serving as the true stars of the show. Each tornado scene is more breathtaking than the last, making you feel like you're right in the middle of the storm. The action sequences are over-the-top in the best possible way, providing plenty of edge-of-your-seat moments that are perfect for popcorn munching. The film's cast does a commendable job with what they're given, adding to the overall campy appeal. Their performances, coupled with the tongue-in-cheek dialogue, keep the film light and entertaining. It's clear that "Twisters" is meant to be enjoyed for its sheer spectacle and fun factor rather than for any deep, thought-provoking narrative. In a world where many blockbusters strive for gritty realism and complex plots, "Twisters" is a refreshing throwback to simpler times. It's a love letter to the disaster movies of the 90's, delivering pure cinematic escapism that fans of the genre will adore. If you're looking for a film that's all about high-octane action and nostalgic thrills, "Twisters" is the perfect storm.

"High Concept" apparently means "really stupid and poorly thought out". Junior (1994) is a film that desperately tries to blend comedy, science fiction, and social commentary but ends up being a tedious and unenjoyable mess. Despite the star power of Arnold Schwarzenegger, Danny DeVito, and Emma Thompson, this movie falls flat in nearly every aspect, leaving the audience bored and disappointed. First and foremost, Junior is painfully boring. The premise of a man becoming pregnant, while initially intriguing, quickly loses its novelty. The plot drags on without any real momentum or excitement. Scenes that are meant to be humorous or touching instead feel forced and uninspired. The pacing is sluggish, and the film fails to maintain any level of engagement, making it a chore to sit through. Moreover, Junior manages to be offensively tone-deaf to the concept of motherhood. The film's portrayal of pregnancy and childbirth is shallow and insensitive, reducing these profound experiences to mere comedic fodder. The idea of a man experiencing pregnancy could have been an opportunity to explore gender roles and the challenges of motherhood with depth and respect. Instead, the film resorts to cheap jokes and superficial scenarios, trivializing the real struggles and emotions associated with pregnancy. The supposed comedy in Junior is another significant letdown. The humor is stale and predictable, relying heavily on tired stereotypes and physical gags. Schwarzenegger's attempts at delivering comedic lines are awkward and unconvincing, and even the usually reliable Danny DeVito seems to be going through the motions. Emma Thompson's character, while charming, cannot salvage the weak script and poorly executed jokes. The film fails to elicit genuine laughter, leaving viewers cringing rather than amused. In conclusion, Junior is a misguided attempt at comedy that misses the mark on multiple levels. It is boring, offensive to the concept of motherhood, and ultimately unfunny. Despite the talented cast, the film's lackluster execution and poor writing make it a forgettable and regrettable viewing experience. Save yourself the time and disappointment and give this movie a pass.

For an 80's boobie movie, this sure does feel wholesome somehow. "State Park," the 1988 comedy that has quietly garnered a dedicated cult following over the years, stands out as a delightful anomaly in the landscape of 80s teen comedies. This movie, often described as a summer version of the era's quintessential skiing flicks, turns all the expected tropes on their head with a refreshing blend of humor and heart. What truly sets "State Park" apart is its light and inoffensive approach to comedy. At a time when many of its contemporaries leaned heavily on raunchy and often cringe-inducing jokes, "State Park" opts for a more wholesome brand of humor. The jokes are clever and endearing, making it a perfect watch for those who appreciate a good laugh without the discomfort that often accompanies 80s comedies. This restraint in humor has aged remarkably well, allowing "State Park" to retain its charm and appeal to new generations of viewers. Set in a picturesque summer camp, the movie channels the energy and antics typically reserved for winter resorts. The camp setting offers a sunny, vibrant backdrop that is both nostalgic and inviting. The film's playful spirit captures the essence of summer fun, making it an ideal escapist flick for those longing for simpler, carefree times. The plot of "State Park" revolves around a group of teenagers who arrive at the camp looking for a summer of fun, only to find themselves embroiled in a battle to save the park from a greedy developer. The protagonist, Eve, is a determined and resourceful young woman who quickly takes charge of the situation. Alongside her, we have a colorful cast of characters including the charming slacker Lewis, the bumbling park ranger Smite, and the scheming antagonist, Rancwell. Their interactions and misadventures are the heart of the film, as they navigate various comedic obstacles to protect their beloved park. "State Park" also cleverly subverts many of the 80s staples. The characters, while initially appearing to be the usual stereotypes, reveal surprising depth and development as the story unfolds. The typical jock, nerd, and rebel archetypes are given fresh twists, making them feel more relatable and human. For example, Eve, the strong female lead, breaks away from the usual damsel-in-distress trope by leading the charge against the developer. Rancewell, shows unexpected bravery and cunning when it matters most. The plot, while seemingly predictable, is peppered with unexpected turns and delightful surprises that keep the audience engaged from start to finish. In addition to its subversive humor and engaging characters, "State Park" boasts a soundtrack that perfectly encapsulates the upbeat, carefree vibe of the 80s. The music, which manages to rip off the song "Oh Yeah" by Yello, adds a playful layer of irony to the film. Moreover, the cheesy appearance by Ted Nugent is a memorable highlight that adds to the film's quirky charm. The music, combined with the vibrant cinematography, creates an immersive experience that transports viewers back to a time of neon colors and big hair.

So this entire movie is just being recounted during a police interrogation? Face it, R.O.T.O.R. is one of the best bad movies there is. "R.O.T.O.R." is a cinematic gem that defies all conventional standards of quality to deliver an experience so bad it's absolutely good. This 1980s sci-fi action flick is a masterclass in unintentional comedy and bewildering plot choices, making it a must-watch for fans of hilariously awful movies. From the very first frame, "R.O.T.O.R." sets the tone with its laughably earnest attempt at a futuristic police thriller. The plot, centered around a rogue robotic cop named R.O.T.O.R., is as absurd as it sounds. The storyline is riddled with nonsensical twists and turns, leading to moments of pure, unadulterated confusion that are nothing short of entertaining. The acting is delightfully wooden, with performances that feel like they were plucked straight out of a high school drama club. Each line delivery is a treasure trove of over-the-top seriousness, adding layers of unintended humor to even the most mundane dialogue. Special mention must go to the film's protagonist, who tackles his role with a level of gravitas that is as impressive as it is misplaced. Visually, "R.O.T.O.R." is a feast for the eyes in all the wrong ways. The special effects are gloriously dated, with budget constraints clearly evident in every explosion and laser shot. The titular robot itself is a marvel of low-budget ingenuity, with a design that is both comically menacing and endearingly clunky. The film's soundtrack is the perfect cherry on top of this absurd sundae. Synth-heavy and wildly dramatic, the music sets the perfect tone for every ridiculous action sequence and emotional beat, ensuring that each moment is imbued with a sense of grandeur that the script itself never quite achieves. In the end, "R.O.T.O.R." is a film that transcends its flaws to become a thoroughly enjoyable experience. It's a testament to the idea that sometimes, the best entertainment comes from the most unexpected places. So gather your friends, grab some popcorn, and prepare for a rollercoaster ride of so-bad-it's-good cinema that you'll be quoting for years to come.

I'm sorry, I already forgot everything about this movie. And so will you. "A Family Affair" (2024) is a film that struggles to rise above mediocrity in almost every aspect. From its trite and mundane script to its overall tone and feel, which screams Hallmark Original, this movie is a disappointment on multiple levels. The plot is as predictable as it gets, with clichéd dialogue and uninspired story arcs that fail to engage or surprise the audience. It feels like the writers took every tired trope they could find and stitched them together into a barely coherent narrative. There is no depth, no innovation, and certainly no spark to elevate the story from the realm of the forgettable. Adding to the film's woes is the atrocious makeup, which somehow manages to make its lead actors look weirdly unnatural. Instead of enhancing their features, the makeup seems to have been applied with a heavy hand, creating an off-putting appearance that distracts from their performances. The music is another glaring issue. With a score that sounds like it was produced on a Casio keyboard, the soundtrack lacks the sophistication and emotional resonance that a good film score should provide. It does little to support the scenes and often feels more like an afterthought than an integral part of the movie. In summary, "A Family Affair" is as remarkable as shaving—a mundane and routine task that leaves no lasting impression. Save your time and look elsewhere for entertainment, as this film offers little more than a regrettable waste of an evening.

Don't go running in the park at night! It's not smart! If you ever find yourself yearning for a film that epitomizes the phrase "so bad it's good," look no further than the 1984 classic Alley Cat. This cinematic gem stars Karin Mani as Billie, a karate black belt street justice fighter whose commitment to poor decision-making is nothing short of legendary. Alley Cat's plot is a tangled mess of incoherence and absurdity. Billie, our fearless heroine, seems to have an inexplicable obsession with venturing into the park at night. You'd think that after the first few attacks and a trespassing arrest, she might reconsider her nocturnal strolls. But no! Billie's dedication to wandering into danger is rivaled only by her proficiency in delivering high kicks to hapless thugs. Watching Billie's nightly park excursions is like watching a moth repeatedly fly into a flame. Each visit is an invitation for trouble, and trouble eagerly RSVP's every time. It's almost as if Billie is playing a demented game of tag with the local hoodlums, with predictably disastrous results. You'll be left wondering if her karate training included a special course on how to make the worst possible life choices. And then there's the nudity. Oh, the nudity. Alley Cat revels in its gratuitous display of skin in the most bafflingly unnecessary ways. It's as if the filmmakers were contractually obligated to include a certain amount of nudity and were determined to meet their quota no matter how nonsensical the context. Shower scenes, changing scenes, random scenes – no opportunity is too absurd for a sudden disrobing. The dialogue in Alley Cat is peppered with one-liners so laughable, they deserve a place in the Bad Movie Hall of Fame. Billie's attempts at badassery through quips and retorts are a masterclass in unintentional comedy. Gems like, "Don't mess with girls in the park; that's not nice!" (its a little worse than that, Billie) are sure to leave you in stitches. For fans of riffing, Alley Cat is a veritable treasure trove. The sheer absurdity of the plot, combined with the wooden acting and ludicrous dialogue, provides endless fodder for mockery. Gather your friends, pop some popcorn, and prepare for a night of hilarity as you and your crew take on this cinematic disasterpiece. Alley Cat is a film that transcends its awfulness to become something good, not great but good. It's a perfect storm of terrible decisions, laughable dialogue, and gratuitous nudity, all wrapped up in a plot that makes you question the very nature of storytelling. In short, it's so bad, it's a good time. Don't miss this opportunity to revel in the glory of a terrible and terribly fun film.

Did Stephanie ever have to worry about the incinerator? "Stuff Stephanie in the Incinerator" is a delightful surprise that defies all expectations. As someone who was anticipating the typical over-the-top antics synonymous with Troma releases, I was completely taken aback by the film's unique charm. This movie is not just another exploitative romp; it's a cleverly written, weirdly funny, and remarkably well-directed gem that stands out in the world of low-budget cinema. From the moment the film begins, it's clear that this is not your average Troma fare. The writing is sharp and unexpectedly nuanced, weaving a narrative that is as engaging as it is bizarre. The story, filled with twists and turns, keeps you guessing until the very end. It's a testament to the screenwriter's talent that a plot this offbeat can remain so coherent and entertaining throughout. Humor plays a crucial role in "Stuff Stephanie in the Incinerator," and it's executed with a finesse rarely seen in B-movies. The comedic elements are woven seamlessly into the fabric of the story, providing laughs that feel natural rather than forced. This film strikes a perfect balance between its darkly comedic moments and its more surreal, unsettling scenes, creating an experience that is both amusing and oddly captivating. Perhaps the most impressive aspect of the movie is its direction. The film's director, surprisingly, manages to pull off a level of craftsmanship that rivals, and sometimes surpasses, many big-budget productions. The use of camera angles, the pacing, and the overall aesthetic are handled with a sophistication that belies the film's modest budget. Each scene is meticulously crafted, enhancing the narrative and adding depth to the characters in ways that are rarely seen in this genre. "Stuff Stephanie in the Incinerator" is a hidden treasure in the Troma catalog. It's a film that not only entertains but also challenges the conventions of what a low-budget movie can achieve. If you're looking for a movie that is weird, funny, and exceptionally well-made, this is one you won't want to miss. It is a testament to the idea that creativity and talent can shine through, regardless of budget constraints.

Look into your future and see if you're gonna be in any other movies. Looks bleak!  "Madame Web" is a masterclass in how not to make a superhero movie or really any movie for that matter. From start to finish, it's a torturous slog through wooden acting, a plot riddled with more holes than Swiss cheese, and an antagonist so one-dimensional and implausibly powered that it feels like the writers stopped caring halfway through. The acting, if it can even be called that, is painfully stilted. Each line is delivered with the enthusiasm of someone reading a grocery list, making it impossible to connect with any of the characters. The supposed chemistry among the cast is non-existent, leaving the audience to endure awkward interactions and flat dialogue that makes the lengthy runtime feel even longer. As for the plot, it seems the writers threw coherence out the window but more likely were shackled by the studios fidgeting from the "men in ties" department. The story is a tangled mess of nonsensical events that fail to build any meaningful narrative or tension. Plot holes abound, making it difficult to follow the story's logic—or lack thereof. Key elements are either unexplained or glossed over, leaving viewers scratching their heads in confusion. The antagonist, Ezekiel, is a joke, lacking any depth or motivation that would make him remotely interesting or threatening. His powers are as dubious as their purpose, fluctuating wildly with no consistency or explanation. This lack of a compelling villain drains the movie of any potential excitement or stakes. The only thing worse than the plot and the characters is the pacing. The movie drags on interminably, with large portions dedicated to watching teenage girls bicker about the most trivial matters. It's excruciatingly dull, making you wish for the credits to roll long before the story reaches its lackluster climax. In short, "Madame Web" is a painfully boring disaster that fails on nearly every level. Save yourself the agony and skip this cinematic train wreck.

Thrill as J-Lo complains in a chair in front of green screen for 45 minutes. That butt, tho.... "Atlas," starring Jennifer Lopez, aims to be a thrilling sci-fi adventure but ultimately lands in the realm of forgettable mediocrity. The plot, which revolves around a dystopian future and a battle for humanity's survival, is riddled with flaws and holes that make suspension of disbelief a constant struggle. The storyline feels hastily stitched together, with plot twists that are more confusing than surprising. Lopez's portrayal of Atlas, the protagonist, is another sticking point. The character is meant to be a strong, determined leader, but instead comes across as overly whiny and frustratingly indecisive. This makes it difficult to root for her, as her constant complaints overshadow any moments of genuine heroism or strength. The dialogue in "Atlas" doesn't help matters. It often feels stilted and unnatural, almost as if it was generated by an AI—mechanical and devoid of real human touch. Characters spout lines that are meant to be profound or witty, but end up sounding awkward and forced. In the end, "Atlas" isn't terrible enough to be a guilty pleasure, nor is it good enough to leave a lasting impression. It's the kind of movie that slips through the cracks of memory, neither bad enough to laugh at nor good enough to recommend. If you're looking for a mindless sci-fi flick to pass the time, "Atlas" might just do the trick—but don't expect it to be anything more than a fleeting diversion.

Less people get sat on by robots in war, I guess. So Robot Jox is a conglomeration of many other staples in 1989. You've got a post-apocalyptic setting thanks to the Cold War. You've got a sports related global event ala Rollerball, Deathrace 2000, Running Man, et. al. And you've got robots fighting ala Rock 'Em Sock 'Em Robots. Ok, maybe the last one was a stretch but you get the picture. Lastly, you've got a critical factor. George Lucas.  Yes, Lucas made all the money when he kept the licensing rights to the Star Wars franchise and then became the richest man in the galaxy when the toy line was released. Well, Charles Band hoped for no less. With the meteoric rise of The Transformers and subsequent collapse when the killed Optimus Prime within the first 10 seconds of the movie, Charlie say an opportunity to sell giant robots IF the movie Robot Jox was successful.  Narrator: It was not. Oh well. But it does add a very interesting connection to another film that wanted to make all the toys - Megaforce. But that's not where the connections stop. There's much thumb gesturing, a general friendship/enemyship between the sides, the general tone and aesthetic, each have Tex characters, a lead that's just a big cheesedick (ok that's a lot of movies), a useless and vague system of resolving conflicts between nations and a female love interest/agitator to the lead that bear strong resemblances to each other. So as to the film. Well.... its a very interesting world for a PA movie. With most being just roving hordes of bandits running through the desert in junker cars attacking scantily clad women until a lone warrior comes to town. This world is actually more like something out of a sci-fi book with subtle geo-political themes and technological ideas that....well... sadly, go completely unfulfilled and unexplored. The creepiness of the butt hole lead are far more developed and way overindulged.  How about some positives?  Well the effects are some of the best I've seen from a Charlie Band film. The stop-motion animation brings these colossal robots to life with a fluidity and realism that still holds up today, making the combat sequences believable and genuine. The miniatures themselves are well designed and the fight sequences are gonna give your robot fighting fan all that's wanted for a non-cgi film. "Robot Jox" is a delightfully goofy, visually impressive film that sparkles but doesn't ever shine. The stunning miniature work and stop-motion animation make it a must-watch for fans of practical effects, and while the protagonist and plot leave much to be desired, they somehow add to the film's quirky appeal. If you're looking for a fun, nostalgic trip with a healthy dose of 80s sci-fi flair, "Robot Jox" is the perfect pick. But for us....we're gonna stay on Team Megaforce.

The Highlander theatrical cannon comes to a close...by making all the same mistakes as the first two movies and we can't thank them enough for it. Highlander: Final Dimensions is a rollercoaster of absurdity that somehow manages to entertain despite its sheer ridiculousness. From the mind-boggling plot that's as convoluted as a tangled ball of yarn to the laughably bad acting that makes you wonder if the cast drew straws to see who would overact the most, this movie truly embraces its own brand of campiness. Let's talk about those special effects. Cheesy doesn't even begin to cover it. It's like someone raided the bargain bin at a 90s CGI outlet store and said, 'Yep, this'll do.' But you know what? It adds to the charm. You can't help but chuckle at the sight of the so-called 'epic battles' that look like they were choreographed by toddlers with foam swords. And then there's Mario Van Peebles. Bless his heart, he goes all-in with a portrayal that can only be described as unhinged. It's like he read the script and decided to throw any semblance of sanity out the window. But hey, at least he's committed, right? But here's the thing about Highlander: Final Dimensions—it knows exactly what it is. It's not trying to be highbrow cinema or win Oscars. It's embracing the insanity of the Highlander trilogy with open arms and inviting you along for the ride. And what a wild ride it is. So, if you're in the mood for some mindless fun, grab your popcorn, suspend your disbelief, and dive headfirst into the glorious mess that is Highlander: Final Dimensions. Because sometimes, you just need a movie that's as bonkers as this trilogy to remind you that cinema doesn't always have to make sense to be entertaining.

Its that time of year where we celebrate another year of reviewing and loving bad movies. Each year we count down our individual favorite movies we saw in the last 12 months. If you want to find out exactly which bad movies you should watch right now, this is the episode you'll want to listen to. Can we finally all agree on a #1? Plus we also countdown our favorite 3 movies released in 2023.

Are you enough of a tough guy verbally to handle how much of a tough guy everyone is in this movie when even the ladies are tough guys? No chance. "The Rage" is a rollercoaster of a movie, and not necessarily in a good way. Strap in for some truly crazy stunts that will have you gripping the edge of your seat... or maybe just scratching your head in confusion. Lorenzo Lamas, Gary Busey, and Roy Scheider lead the charge in this adrenaline-fueled thriller, but even their combined star power can't salvage the wreckage of a script that seems to have been cobbled together in a hurry. The dialogue is so melodramatic it borders on unintentional comedy, and not even Busey's trademark wild-eyed intensity can save it. Sure, there are moments where the action ramps up to heart-pounding levels, with stunts that defy logic and gravity alike. But every time you start to feel the adrenaline kick in, you're rudely yanked back to reality by yet another cringe-worthy set of dialogue. In the end, "The Rage" is like a souped-up sports car with a faulty engine – it may look flashy on the outside, but once you get behind the wheel, you realize it's headed straight for a cliff.

Hot coeds go to a bowling alley and unlock a poop monster and find death and love in the process. "Sorority Babes in the Slimeball Bowl-O-Rama" is a delightful romp through the absurd and the outrageous, delivering a unique blend of horror, comedy, and pure camp that is sure to entertain audiences of all tastes. Released in 1987, this cult classic is a testament to the creativity and ingenuity of low-budget filmmaking. First and foremost, the film's title alone sets the tone for the wild ride viewers are about to embark upon. It promises a mix of sorority shenanigans, grody antics, and the unlikeliest of settings—a bowling alley. And boy, does it deliver! From the moment the opening credits roll, audiences are thrust into a world where anything goes and no joke is too outrageous. What truly sets "Sorority Babes" apart is its commitment to embracing its B-movie roots with open arms. The practical effects may be cheesy by today's standards, but they're executed with such infectious enthusiasm that it's impossible not to be charmed. From the mischievous imp in a bowling trophy to the gloriously over-the-top finale, every scene is infused with a sense of fun and a knowing wink to the audience. In the end, "Sorority Babes in the Slimeball Bowl-O-Rama" is a love letter to the spirit of budget filmmaking and the power of embracing the unconventional. It may not be high art, but it's an absolute blast from start to finish—a must-see for fans of cult cinema and anyone looking for a good time at the movies. So grab your popcorn, gather your friends, and prepare to be bowl-o-ramaed!

Its bad. I mean, so, so, so very bad. Like "worst movie of all time discussion" bad. "Rollerball" (2002) is a cinematic catastrophe of epic proportions. This abomination of a film is a perfect storm of incompetence, delivering an experience so profoundly dreadful that it defies all reason and logic. From its mind-numbingly idiotic plot to its nauseatingly abysmal editing, every aspect of this cinematic disaster screams of ineptitude. Let's start with the plot—or rather, the lack thereof. Attempting to discern any semblance of coherence or intelligence from the narrative of "Rollerball" is an exercise in futility. It's as if the writers threw darts at a board covered in clichés and assembled whatever they hit. The result is a plot so insanely stupid that it effectively nullifies its own existence. Characters flail about in a sea of nonsensical motivations and contrived conflicts, leaving audiences scratching their heads in bewilderment and frustration. But the plot is only the tip of the iceberg of incompetence. The editing in "Rollerball" is a masterclass in how not to edit a film. Action sequences, purportedly the film's main draw, are rendered incomprehensible by choppy cuts and frenetic camerawork. Every punch, kick, and jump is shrouded in a haze of confusion, leaving viewers squinting at the screen in vain attempts to discern what is happening. It's a dizzying, disorienting mess that serves only to induce headaches and nausea. And then there's the infamous night vision sequence—a nauseating descent into visual hell that defies description. This sequence, purportedly intended to add tension and excitement, instead serves as a testament to the filmmakers' complete disregard for their audience's well-being. The frenzied camera movements combined with the sickly green tint of the night vision filter result in a sensory assault of epic proportions, leaving viewers reaching for the nearest barf bag. As if the technical incompetence wasn't enough, "Rollerball" also boasts a cast whose performances range from forgettable to cringe-worthy. Chris Klein, Rebecca Romijn, and LL Cool J stumble through their lines with all the grace and charisma of cardboard cutouts, their accents veering wildly between inconsistent and outright laughable. It's a parade of mediocrity that only serves to compound the film's myriad failures. In conclusion, "Rollerball" is unequivocally the worst movie we've ever reviewed. Yes, its a more poorly made and executed that "Mortal Kombat: Annihilation". Its plot is a nonsensical mess, its editing is a nauseating nightmare, and its performances are uniformly terrible. And yet, despite all of its flaws, it remains a must-watch for aficionados of cinematic train wrecks. So gather your friends, stock up on barf bags, and prepare to witness the cinematic equivalent of a dumpster fire. You'll regret every minute of it, but you won't be able to look away.

 Dalton hasn't calmed down much in 35 years but he's gotten a lot more polite when he's punching your nose into your face. "Roadhouse" (2024) starring Jake Gyllenhaal offers a lukewarm viewing experience that leaves much to be desired. While the action direction from Doug Liman is undeniably thrilling, it's unfortunately overshadowed by a frustratingly lackluster script that feels like a missed opportunity at every turn. Gyllenhaal steps into the iconic role with commendable effort, bringing his own spin to the character, but ultimately, the script fails to fully utilize his talents. The plot feels disjointed and often veers into the realm of the absurd, leaving audiences scratching their heads rather than fully immersed in the action. One can't help but compare this rendition to the beloved original, which continues to draw annual viewings from dedicated movie lovers. While the 2024 version has its moments of excitement, it lacks the timeless appeal and depth of its predecessor. Overall, "Roadhouse" (2024) is not an unenjoyable experience, but it's certainly a one-and-done affair. Viewers may find themselves entertained in the moment, but it's unlikely to leave a lasting impression or inspire repeated viewings.

Rosie O'Donnell does the thing Robert Downey Jr. said never to do and earns all of the internet's hatred...but is it deserved? "Riding the Bus with My Sister" is a film that falls squarely in the realm of made-for-TV movies, a genre often associated with mediocrity. Yet, within this sea of forgettable productions, this 2005 offering manages to stand out—not necessarily as a shining gem, but certainly as a passable diversion. On the surface, it's easy to dismiss "Riding the Bus with My Sister" as just another Hallmark Channel movie, known for their often formulaic and saccharine narratives. And while this film does share some of those traits, it also manages to offer moments of genuine warmth and sincerity that elevate it slightly above the typical Hallmark fare. One of the most notable aspects of the film is Rosie O'Donnell's portrayal of a neuro-divergent character—a choice that has garnered both criticism and praise. It's undeniable that in today's landscape, casting decisions like this would be scrutinized for lacking authenticity and representation. However, it's important to recognize that the fault lies not with O'Donnell herself, but with the industry norms of the time. The story itself follows familiar beats: estranged siblings reconnecting, personal growth through shared experiences, and the power of acceptance and understanding. While these themes are handled competently, they lack the depth and nuance that could elevate the film to something truly memorable. In the end, "Riding the Bus with My Sister" is a middling affair, neither deserving of the vitriol it sometimes receives nor the effusive praise from certain quarters. It's a movie that fulfills its modest ambitions without ever truly transcending them. And while it may not be a masterpiece, it serves as a reminder of the limitations and missed opportunities that often characterize made-for-TV productions.

A cavalcade of terrible decisions that 3 Oscar winners and an Emmy winner decided was good for them, gave us a movie that's good for us but no one else. "Tiptoes" is a cinematic trainwreck that defies all expectations of quality filmmaking. From its cringe-inducing dialogue to its baffling plot twists, this movie is a prime example of how NOT to make a film. Despite boasting not one, not two, but THREE Oscar-winning actors in its cast, "Tiptoes" is a catastrophic failure that leaves audiences scratching their heads in disbelief. The film clumsily attempts to tackle serious themes, masquerading as Oscar bait with its contrived drama and heavy-handed messages. However, instead of delivering poignant moments, it delivers unintentional hilarity. You'll find yourself laughing at scenes that were clearly meant to evoke tears. But the real kicker? Gary Oldman, a supremely talented actor, is somehow stuffed into a couch for a significant portion of the movie, both literally and metaphorically. Yes, you read that right. In a desperate attempt at authenticity, the filmmakers thought it would be a good idea to confine one of Hollywood's finest actors to the confines of furniture. It's as absurd as it sounds. Just cast a little person in the role, dammit!!! "Tiptoes" is a disaster from start to finish, a cautionary tale in the annals of cinema history. Save yourself the agony and steer clear of this cinematic dumpster fire. Even the presence of Oscar winners can't salvage this mess. Unless you're like us, and then its a must watch.