Anatomy Of A BOMB
Deconstructing the Old Hollywood Archetype of Poor Cinema
by Justin Sane!

A bad film is like caviar… those who like it crave it constantly, and to everyone else it's just fish eggs.

So begins our journey, my friends, through the history of some of the top box-office bombs of the twentieth century. Every year the studio system cranks out at least one terrible, overblown or massive tax write-off of a film. How many times have you been seated in a theater stuffing your face full of popcorn, slobbering on your overpriced soda and dropping Whoppers on the floor (they're still good!) and watched trailers that made you think 'Boy oh boy, what kind of mental giant came up with that piece of crap and who put up the money for it?'

Sure, you have great taste… and you're not alone. The fact is, most people do their voting with their wallets. More likely than not, people are more apt to just not go to a bad film, thus making it trickle into obscurity on the bottom shelf of your local video store. But there are varying degrees of awfulness.

There is the Overblown Film, one that studio execs perhaps felt needed money constantly pumped into it in order to make a buck. There is the Misguided Effort, a well-meaning, but in the end bad decision that could have been a little better had more thought gone into it. Thirdly, the Vanity Vehicle, one that exists for nothing more than to stroke the ego of an already wealthy, and in much cases adored (until their V.V. comes out, that is), and then there is just plain BAD.

BAD films don't fit into any particular category because, well, there's nothing really more to say about them. All of the time and energy going into this film would have been better spent cutting geometrically perfect pieces of cheese to place atop a cracker, or better yet, trying to get your fish to consume a gummy worm.

The truth is, there are so many awful films that it would be foolish to try and list the majority of them here. What I will do is pick a few selections and tell you what was wrong with them, why people most likely avoided it, and how it may have possibly been improved. The films you've been avoiding your whole life might just teach you something...

Luckily for you, I harbor a passion for terrible cinema.

In the beginning… there was HOWARD THE DUCK (1986)!

Widely considered one of the all-time worst films ever to grace the face of celluloid, it made most people wish film were still as flammable as it was at the turn of the century. People were getting giddy at the idea of George Lucas (Star Wars) producing the 70s cult Marvel Comics series that focused on a wisecracking humanoid duck from an egg-shaped planet far, far away getting sucked through the cosmos just to land on a planet filled with "hairless apes". Add to that the talents of Lea Thompson, straight from her stint in Back to the Future, and you have a recipe for a wacky sci-fi fantasy. A plethora of Howard-related merchandising hit the market hard, with such items as candy dispensers, trading cards and a comic-book adaptation leading the way. Old Howie was about to capture the hearts of two generations.

Upon release, critics bashed it and audiences stayed away in droves as high expectations were crushed. How could George Lucas have failed so miserably? The reality is that the director, Willard Hyuck, is mostly to blame, the secondary blame going to the writers. The direction of the film is stiff at best, when a comic book adaptation should really have fluidity to it. The action scene are equally stilted and don't come off as exciting or, in the case of the plane chase, doesn't make the viewer fear for Howard's safety. Instead, the viewer is more likely to stare at the screen and wonder exactly how slowly the glider is moving.

The writing, which is by Hyuck and his Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom co-scribe Gloria Katz, is lackluster at best. Throwing in everything from awful movie spoofs to badly executed slapstick sequences; it reeks of lame self-indulgence not seen again until some thirteen years later in one of the worst blockbusters ever made, Armageddon.

Not all is lost, however, as Howard has a few things to be proud of… Jeffrey Jones, for one. Jones has, in the past, made a name for himself playing uptight, yet goofy characters (Ferris Bueller's Day Off, Beetlejuice), but in this film, as Dr. Jenning, otherwise known as one of the Dark Lords of the Universe, he really lets go. Jones gets to have some fun as a man, struck by the same laser that brought Howard to Earth, with a Dark Lord growing slowly inside him. The scene in which he uses a long, spiked tongue to regenerate himself by sucking on a truck's cigarette lighter (much to Thompson's character's revulsion) is a classic, whether you'd like to admit it or not.

And the Dark Lords of the Universe… Industrial Light & Magic bring us yet another stunning creation. The Dark Lords, in their hideous glory, bring to mind what the offspring of a scorpion, a crab and Tammy Faye Bakker might look like. The battle scene between Howard and the Dark Lord, although not as pulse-pounding as one would like, is still just exciting enough to make you think well the last two hours weren't a total waste.

Based on the flopping of Howard the Duck, comic book creator Steve Gerber has altogether disowned the little fowl that was once his cash cow. He has not strayed too far from his creation, however, and has written a series called Destroyer Duck, featuring a barbarian of a duck whose face is not altogether different from the cigar-chomping hero of yesteryear. Note to Hollywood: If you're gonna make it into a movie, stick closer to the source material.

If one thought Howard was a large chunk of change thrown into the trash bin, one might have a brain aneurysm at the mention of Steven Spielberg's 1941 (1979). Spielberg, hot off Jaws and Close Encounters of the Third Kind, thought a large Dr. Strangelove-type comedy was in order.

Written by then little-knowns Robert Zemekis and Bob Gale (later of Back to the Future fame), as The Night the Japs Attacked, it involved a Japanese sub headed to destroy Hollywood, believing it to be America's national treasure. Taking place shortly after Pearl Harbor, everyone is on alert and paranoid, thus when the submarine is spotted offshore chaos ensues as just about everybody goes loony and everything goes awry.

The film boasted tons of character actors (Christopher Lee, John Belushi, Robert Stack, Eddie Deezen, Dick Miller and Slim Pickens just to name a few). In fact, it's so jam-packed with recognizable faces that you'll be pointing and saying "Hey, isn't that… uh, what's-his-face?!" every few seconds (although the names might escape you on more than a few occasions).

The film also boasts being one of the loudest ever made. The sound is so loud (yet crisp) in some parts that even the most hardened sound junkie (myself included) may wonder why it's so damn loud. Things blowing up, machine gun fire aplenty, and screaming characters take up so much screen time that were it played for a group of veterans, you may very well find them ducking for cover under their movie seats.

Some of the gags fall on their face, most notably a painfully extended fight/dance sequence, where others, such as Ward Douglas (Ned Beatty) firing an antiaircraft gun that destroys his house in several ways is laugh-out loud hilarious. A couple of stirring action sequences sneak in there, too; Wild Bill Kelso (John Belushi) chasing and firing upon a plane he thinks to be Japanese (but containing Americans Treat Williams and Nancy Allen in… er, "the act") is especially good.

Unfortunately, another sequence never made it into the film, but would have been quite a sight if it had. Designed by renown animator Chuck Jones (Looney Tunes), it featured a torpedo fired by the Japanese sub that leaps up on shore and begins to rocket through town, throwing concrete and people alike aside. At one point someone was even supposed to fall on the torpedo and ride it down the street! The only reason they ended up not doing the sequence was the cost (like it would have really mattered at that point as the film was one of the most expensive films ever at the time), and that there was no cheap way to do it.

All in all, if you're a fan of large, chaotic comedies (Dr. Strangelove, Mars Attacks!) you'll find something to love about 1941. If nothing else there's insanity, explosions and screaming… everything a good movie needs.

Bruce Willis is a Hollywood golden boy. Nowadays there are few parts he wouldn't be considered for, but think back for a moment to the year 1988. Finally finding a niche (after making a disastrous step from TV's Moonlighting to filmdom's Blind Date) as an action star after appearing in the film Die Hard and Die Hard 2 plus getting the cutesy vote in Look Who's Talking, Bruce spiraled downward acting in the triple threat of The Bonfire of the Vanities, Look who's Talking Too and Mortal Thoughts. Only one thing could save Our Boy Bruce now… a project called Hudson Hawk (1991).

Bruce wrote the story, the theme song and starred in what many consider to be the largest turkey of the 90s. The story of a singing catburgler (Willis), released from a 10-year stint in prison, who is forced by insane millionaires (played delightfully over the top by Richard E. Grant and Sandra Bernhard) to steal the works of Leonardo da Vinci in a sinister plot to turn lead into gold.

This crazy quilt of a film bathes so gloriously in its own ludicrousness that it's liable to get prune hands. Like some kind of deranged cartoon, it works on logic all its own, going from violent slapstick to witty one-liners to wink-wink nudge-nudge humor all in the same scene. Some things seem to just be thrown in for silliness' sake such as henchmen (Butterfinger, Almond Joy, Snickers, Kit Kat) all named after candy bars and the fate of poor Bunny the Dog (which in itself is worth the price of a rental).

Rounding out the cast of motley characters is Andie MacDowell, who, in another glorious misstep play's Hawk's romantic interest, who by trade is no less than a NUN, which is always the benchmark of a failure (how soon we forget the Bronson-Pinchot-plays-a-mentally-handicapped-psychic vehicle Second Sight). Andie, compared to the rest, overacts so transparently that it's clear she was miscast and probably wishes she had chosen a more "respectable" film to be in after her success with sex, lies and videotape and Green Card.

If following successes with poorly-chosen projects are par for the course in Hollywood, then someone should hand Oscar-winning director Barry Levinson a cigar and give him a slap on the back. After the one-two-three punch of Rain Man, Avalon and Bugsy Levinson decided it was finally time to bring his long-time pet project to the screen. The film TOYS (1992) was awaited with great interest. Starring Robin Williams as the head-in-the-clouds son of the owner of the Zevo Toys empire, audiences thought the film would be a yuk-a-minute experience, as Williams had previously made their sides split as the Genie of the Lamp in Aladdin.

However, Toys is hardly a chucklefest, and though it does have its humorous moments, it is more a sweet (and sometimes disturbing) little fable on keeping one's innocence in a corrupt and violent world.

Leslie's Uncle General Leland Zevo is bequeathed control of the family toy factory after his brother dies. Having a military background rather than a toymaking one, the General sets out to make a line of war toys the opposite in nature than the fuzzy, lovable playthings the Zevo company is used to. This hits Leslie especially hard, since like his Pop, he has always been more jack-in-the-box than jackboots. With his naïve sister Alsatia (Joan Cusack) and an army of cuddly play-pretties in tow, Leslie sets off to free the company from his Uncle's oppressive grip.

I read a review of the film that stated if it were a foreign film, it would have been hailed as an imaginative masterpiece. I find this to be an interesting comment, for if the film were to star Roberto Benigni in "lovable goofball" mode and subtitles it would not be out of the realm of possibility that it would be more palatable for some. Foreign-language fairy tales with amazing design have done, for the most part, better here than some of our own; The City of Lost Children is far more critically acclaimed than The Adventures of Baron Munchausen.

Perhaps audiences were expecting more from Levinson, an award-winning director. It's possible they envisioned Lawrence of Arabia with teddy bears featuring Robin Williams leaping about the room throwing Genie-isms around… Instead they got a parable dealing with the inner child and the awful influences put upon it by the outside world. Oh well, Levinson's done worse… Sphere, anyone?

There are those who are seen as great big-time directors who soil their names making big-time stinkers. Then there are great small-time directors who… well, who are equally accused of making big-time stinkers. One such person is indie director Kevin Smith, who astounded festival audiences with his vulgar (and cheap) debut film Clerks.

Riding on the success of his day-in-the-life film about video/convenience store clerks respectively, Smith pitched a film later described as a "smart Porky's", an ode to comic-book geeks everywhere, a film about those who like to lounge about the food court, MALLRATS (1995).

With a cast of virtual at-the-time unknowns such as Jason Lee (Almost Famous), Claire Forlani (Meet Joe Black), Joey Lauren Adams (Big Daddy), Ben Affleck (Armageddon) and Michael Rooker (Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer), it was a chance to bring some fresh faces into the spotlight. The most well known actor in the film was Shannen Doherty (Beverly Hills, 90210), who was rumored to be hard to work with.

Smith kept most of the same elements as his earlier triumph: a pair of 'slackers' discussing their problems at length, girl troubles, bad taste hijinx and the ever lovable stoners Jay and Silent Bob. It seemed like a couldn't-miss.

It did.

After a very poor initial take at the box office it was dropped and virtually disappeared. …That is, until DVD. Kevin Smith is renown for his excellent DVD extras such as hilariously informative commentaries, trailers and deleted scenes, and he gave Mallrats the King's Treatment, despite it being a bomb theatrically (which may be the first instance of a "bad" film being treated like a blockbuster).

As long as we're on the subject of "indie heroes", perhaps it is time to discuss the film that brought four indie directors together. That film, of course, is FOUR ROOMS (1995).

It seemed like a great idea: an anthology of stories from a hotel on New Year's Eve, where poor bellhop Ted (portrayed by Tim Roth) is the only one on the floor. Each director would get to write and direct one segment (room) and do whatever he or she liked, as long as they kept Ted involved. The names of those directors? A powerhouse mixture of Allison Anders (Gas Food Lodging), Alexandre Rockwell (In The Soup), Robert Rodriguez (El Mariachi) and Quentin Tarantino (Pulp Fiction).

As the consensus goes the first half of the film it utterly horrid, the second half being far more palatable, and I'm inclined to agree. The first segment, Anders' The Missing Ingredient is the story of some witches who want to bring their long-dead leader back to life. The only way to complete the spell is for the youngest witch (Ione Skye) to get some sperm out of our pal Ted. Hoo-boy. This is by far the worst segment of the film featuring dialogue so poor you'll think it was scrawled out on a napkin at Carl's Jr. by a twelve-year-old with overactive hormones.

The second segment The Wrong Man, directed by Rockwell, entails Ted stumbling across the room of a woman tied to the bed and her drugged-up gun-wielding husband. This room is a slight improvement over the first one, but Rockwell seems to think that someone listing off all of the varying ways to refer to a penis is, at the same time, both hilarious and groundbreaking. Sadly, it is neither.

Tired, I assume, of always saving the best for last, this film saves the best for third, namely, the Rodriguez segment The Misbehavers.. Ted is saddled with two kids sporting a virtual inability to behave when their parents decide to go out by themselves for New Years. The father (a super-suave Antonio Banderas) pays Ted a substantial amount of money and tells him that nothing better happen to his kids when he's away. Once the parents leave all hell breaks loose as the kids try their best to behave… but can't. From then on the rest of the segment plays like a demented Road Runner short (as do most of Rodriguez's films) as Ted rushes upstairs, attempting to beat the returning parents.

The fourth and final segment is the Tarantino-directed The Man From Hollywood, which takes its inspiration from an old Alfred Hitchcock Presents, which it acknowledges. Featuring Tarantino himself as a Hollywood director who makes a bet with his friend whose stakes are: his car vs. his friend's finger. Not thinking he will be capable of cutting off the finger when the time comes, Tarantino says he will pay Ted $1000 to do it for them.

It is in these two final sections that some form of talent seems to be shining through. Alas, however, art-house fans and fickle and one piece-o-junk hour of Four Rooms is enough to make anyone write these guys off. One moment Indie Gods, the next moment a bunch of idiots. They have all made comebacks since, happily.

I hope you're all ready (if any of you are still here) for the largest Hollywood flop of all time… one that cost a mind-blowing $200 million dollars to make. 200… freakin'… million dollars. Although it eventually recouped its money worldwide, the Kevin Costner-vehicle WATERWORLD is still the end-all be-all dictionary definition of the word "overspending".

Called "Kevin's Gate" (a reference to another large flop I chose not to discuss, 'Heaven's Gate') and "Fishtar" ('Ishtar'), Waterworld is the story of The Mariner (Costner), a mean, urine-sipping seaman with gills behind his ears that allow him to breathe underwater, just like Aquaman! The polar ice caps have melted, you see, and the entire world, as you might expect from the title, is consumed by water forcing all us mammals to live on boats. Mariner stumbles upon a woman named Helen (Jeanne Tripplehorn) and her young charge Enola (Tina Majorino), who holds the key to finding the mytical "Dryland".

Along the way they run into madman Deacon (played by madman-for-hire Dennis Hopper) and his "Smokers", a bunch of Mad Max-rejects who smoke cigarettes like the Mariner breathes water… that is, quite a bit. Aboard their tanker, the Smokers follow after Mariner and the two ladies as they struggle to find Dryland.

It's not that Waterworld is such a bad film... there have been hundreds of worse action films. It's just that the price tag is so damn high. The odd thing is that it was originally written as a low-budget film in the Roger Corman mold... so where did all of the money go?

Your guess is as good as mine, but I seem to recall that they built a ludicrously large tub to put all of their little boats in. Besides that, Costner had his own private beach house which cost over $1,000 per night for the duration of the shoot, while fellow actors lived in substandard housing. And aside from that, let us talk about the emotion spent while making this epic… the friendship between Costner and director Kevin Reynolds (Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves) sadly dissolved their friendship due to creative differences. After Reynolds left the project near the end of shooting, Costner and a team of editors re-worked the film to conform to their own personal visions. This, I'm sure, made Reynolds cry salty tears for his salty epic, as now he's focused on directing more down-to-earth films such as '187' and that old standby 'The Count of Monte Cristo'. You've come a long way, baby.

And so, my friends, it is sadly time to say goodbye. I know there were hundreds upon hundreds of supposedly poor films we did not get to: Cabin Boy, Chairman of the Board, anything by Pauly Shore … but alas, I am just one man. While I hope to someday write a sister article and expose you to more films you've only seen at a distance, shuttering upon eye contact with the foil-embossed cover concealing the hideous contents within, there are no guarantees. Perhaps the powers behind Full Moon Entertainment will arrange a crippling 'accident' before I can…