One thing that we often see in human nature are destructive impulses; or to be more specific, we all like to see something get destroyed.  Whether it is a benign thing like blowing down a house of cards or something more extreme like an implosion of a building, we just enjoy watching something that was built up be taken down.  Hell, we even do it to each other through schadenfreude; whether it’s in politics like the Anthony Wiener scandal, or the rise and fall of a Hollywood star like Lindsey Lohan.  Our culture seems to relish destruction as a part of entertainment.  I don’t necessarily find this to be a bad thing, as long as it doesn’t get out of hand.  And that’s usually what we find in a lot of movies as well.  Disaster films have been a staple of movie-making for generations, but in recent years, we’ve seen visual effects work become sophisticated enough to the point where destruction looks authentic enough to be believable.  But, when we start to see movies become ever more comfortable showing widespread destruction as a part of their storytelling, there starts to be a question about where the line must be drawn.  Is it right for us to feel entertained when we see things like the White House or the Capitol Building being destroyed?  How about the entire world?  In this article, I will look at the highs and lows of disaster film-making and how the audiences reactions to them reveal the extremes to which people want to be entertained.

A lot of the reason why Disaster films exist is because they are a great showcase for special effects.  Going all the way back to the silent era, we’ve seen filmmakers use primitive but successful effects work to create larger than life destruction.  You could even look at some of the early Biblical epics like Cecil B. DeMille’s 1923 version of The Ten Commandments as early examples of a disaster movie.  The film had a moral message yes, but there were many audience members I’m sure who saw the film just because they wanted to see the grandiose destruction caused by the ten plagues and the parting of the Red Sea.  As special effects have become more sophisticated, so has there been an increase in disaster movies.  Soon films were crafted around some of the most famous disasters in history, like In Old Chicago (1937), which depicted the Great Chicago Fire of 1871, or San Francisco (1938), dramatizing the famous 1906 earthquake.  It wasn’t until the 1970’s, however, when Disaster films could be declared a genre all to itself.  In that period, we saw a glut of disaster related movies made specifically for the purpose of being epic, star-studded extravaganzas, with the latest is special effects work on display.  These films included Earthquake (1974), starring Charlton Heston; The Poseidon Adventure (1971), with Gene Hackman and Ernest Borgnine; and The Towering Inferno (1974), with Paul Newman and Steve McQueen, just to name a few.

The rise of the disaster movie genre in the 70’s began to die down in the 80’s, mainly due to the rise of Science Fiction and Fantasy films as a showcase for effects work, but the genre lived on as it began to evolve.  In the 1990’s, we saw the emergence of a filmmaker who would go on to not only redefine the genre, but make it all his own.  This filmmaker was German born director Roland Emmerich, and over the course of his career, you can see that nearly 80% of his filmography is made up of disaster movies.  The movie that put him on the map in the film industry was a film that actually redefined two genres in one, and that was 1996’s Independence Day.  The movie was essentially an alien invasion narrative, but what Roland Emmerich did was to use the techniques utilized in popular disaster films as a means to make the destruction caused by the aliens look and feel as real as possible.  In the movie, we see catastrophic explosions engulf entire cities, destroying landmarks before our very eyes, including the White House itself.  This was a film that not only drew upon our greatest fears of total annihilation, but it also made it feel completely real.  Independence Day was a phenomenal success when it premiered, and it made the disaster genre a force to be reckoned with.  As for Emmerich, he has stuck mostly with the genre that had made him a player in Hollywood, with mixed results, with successful but ludicrous films like Godzilla (1998), The Day After Tomorrow (2004), and 2012 (2009) all falling into that same mold as Independence Day.

But, what was interesting about the success of Independence Day was that it revealed something about how we react to seeing destruction on film.  In the movie, famous landmarks like the Empire State Building are blown to pieces and thousands of people are destroyed in seconds before our very eyes.  And this is what we consider entertaining?  Maybe entertaining isn’t the right word.  I think movies like Independence Day do well because it allows us to face our fears and indulge that sinking feeling of helplessness.  It’s not so much the scenes of destruction themselves that we find so entertaining, but the framework around them.  While watching a disaster movie, we need to feel the impact of the destruction, and that’s why so many disaster films have to finish with a happy ending.  In Independence Day, the colossal destruction closes the first act of the film.  The rest of the movie details how humankind copes with the aftermath, and how they fight off the invaders despite the odds against them.  You have to go through a lot of darkness before you can appreciate the light at the end of the tunnel, and that’s what has defined the best films in the genre.  If a film takes a bleak outlook and doesn’t give the movie a satisfying resolution, then it’s going to fail.  This has been the case with other disaster films, like 2009’s Knowing, which leaves everyone dead and earth uninhabitable at the end; sorry to spoil it for you.  Even the laughable 2012 left room for some hope for humanity, and not surprisingly, it did much better.

Disaster films have to thrive on that feeling of hope.  We become enthralled when we see something grand get destroyed, but it’s what rises from the ashes that makes us feel grateful in the end.  That’s why we enjoy watching controlled demolitions; old buildings must come down in order to make way for something better.  That’s helps us to understand why we accept destruction as entertainment.  Many films skirt that line very often, but the way a disaster film can get the audience on its side is through the characters.  Characters in disaster movies must be likable and easy to identify with.  It also helps if they are not thinly drawn stereotypes as well, but fully defined people.  Emmerich’s films have tended to have lackluster characters, which is why casting makes a difference in his movies, and other ones like them.  Independence Day worked well because you had charismatic performances from actors like Jeff Goldblum and Will Smith, who helped to balance the film out by creating characters you wanted to root for.  Other disaster films tend to miscast their roles, making their characters’ story-lines a little more hard to swallow.  Case in point, John Cusack in 2012.  Cusack is a fine actor when a movie calls for it, but when your character is a mild-mannered author who somehow is able to outrun the eruption of a Supervolcano; that I have a hard time buying.  Now it’s difficult to say that a character needs to believable in a movie centered around a fictional disaster, but sometimes it does matter.  Likability of the characters is what separates the good disaster films from the bad ones, and unfortunately that’s something you rarely see work effectively.

For the most part, disaster films exist because they are showcases for the newest techniques in special effects.  The human element in the films are crucial, but they do play a lesser part in the creation of the movies as a whole.  But, when the balance of these films aren’t settled in the right way, then they do run the risk of seeming either lackluster or worse, exploitative.  This was an issue in Hollywood in the aftermath of the September 11th attacks in New York City, where we saw a level of destruction in real life that we could only comprehend in movies before.  Soon after, the Independence Day style destruction of city-scapes in movies stopped for a while, because that imagery became all too real for us and seeing it on the big screen afterwards would’ve been seen as insensitive.  Now that time has passed, we are seeing that kind of destruction depicted again, but it took a while for us to get there.  What I think makes audiences understand the level of acceptability in disaster imagery is the balance between the level of destruction in the movie and how it functions within the narrative.

Even though it came out months before 9/11, I think that the Michael Bay film Pearl Harbor (2001) feel into that unacceptable exploitation category because it didn’t find that right balance.  In the movie, the famous attack is depicted in gruesome detail, but it lacks any resonance because it is just the backdrop to a rather lackluster love triangle plot.  A lot more respect could have been paid to the real men and woman who died on that day instead of having everything hinge on fictional characters that we care so little about.  Pearl Harbor felt more like a shallow Hollywood attempt to exploit a tragedy for the purpose of creating a film that showcased impressive production values and matinee idol stars.  In other words, it was a movie driven more by marketing than actually informing audiences about the real event.  If you don’t find that right balance in a disaster movie, than your film will not be believable, as was the case here.  Pearl Harbor failed as a movie mainly because it knew what it wanted to be, but the filmmakers didn’t know how to make it work.  They were trying to follow in the footsteps of what has ultimately been the only disaster film to date to ever win the Academy Award for Best Picture; that being director James Cameron’s Titanic (1997).  The reason why Titanic worked and Pearl Harbor didn’t was because it had a balance to it.  The love story at the center of Titanic, while not the most engrossing, did keep the narrative moving and it did endear the characters involved to the audience before the pivotal event happens.  Also, James Cameron put so much detail into the recreation of the ship’s sinking, and every moment of that is well executed on screen. No shaky cam or needless destruction is present in the climatic moments of the movie.  It works because the film was, dare I say, respectful to the actual disaster and to the victims of the event as well.

Making disaster movies thoughtful turns out to have been a secret to the genre’s success.  Going back to my example film once again, Independence Day, we see that the film works despite it’s more ludicrous moments by actually having characters work out logical answers to their dilemmas. It’s not enough to have the characters just move from one disaster to another without explanation, like in 2012   Or to have our characters helplessly standby as the world crumbles around them and inject stale philosophical points about why it all has happened, like in The Day After Tomorrow.  We want to see our characters be problem solvers and actually deal with the apocalypse like its something they can come back from.  That’s why, despite it’s many flaws, Independence Day succeeds.  Mankind coming together to help “Take those sons of bitches down,” is an ultimately inspiring thing.  Whether it’s against nature, or the extraterrestrial, or against our own selves, we enjoy watching characters pull themselves out of a struggle.  That’s why I think World War Z succeeded this year, despite all the naysayers who predicted it would fail (myself included).  The movie looked like another exploitative take on the zombie sub-genre, but the finished film was a more thoughtful examination about how the survivors of the catastrophe try to deal with the problem and learn to survive.  Sometimes it helps to treat your audience to a more thoughtful story about survival, rather than just destruction.

Disaster films will always be around as long as there is an audience for them.  And as long as filmmakers actually treat its audiences’ intelligence levels more respectfully, then we’ll also see the Disaster genre gain more respectability in the film community.  I like the fact that Disaster films have become such an acceptable part of cinematic history, that it’s now commonplace to spoof it as well.  This summer, we got not one, but two comedies centered around apocalyptic events: Seth Rogen’s This is the End and Edgar Wright’s The World’s End.  Both films are hilarious takes on the genre, but they both know what makes a good disaster film work in the end and they exploit those elements perfectly.  It comes down to characters you want to root for and wanting to see them overcome even the complete destruction of society as we know it.  Even though the film’s are played for laughs, the same basic elements hold true and the filmmakers who made them know that. Overall, destruction becomes entertainment because we look forward to the process of renewal.  Disaster movies fail if they indulge too heavily in the destructive parts or leave the audience with no satisfying resolution.  It’s human nature to enjoy seeing something blow up, but we also enjoy seeing something good rise out of the rubble of the destruction, and in the end, that’s why we enjoy good a disaster movie.

Horror movies have been around since the very beginning of cinema.  From F.W. Murnau’s classic vampire flick Nosferatu (1922) to Universal Studio’s monster movies like Dracula (1931) and Frankenstein (1931), audiences have made watching scary films a long standing tradition.  And, like most other genres, horror has grown and evolved with the times, satisfying the changing tastes of it’s audiences.  In the 50’s, we saw the rise of the Sci-fi monster movies and in the 60’s and 70’s, “schlock” horror began to become popular, thanks to relaxed restraints over acceptable on-screen violence.  It is a genre that has more or less stayed strong in every decade and is much more adaptable than any other genre of film.  But, in recent years, I have noticed that there has been a severe drop off in horror movies that actually leave a mark.  It seems that today, studios are more interested in quantity over quality and its a trend that is having a negative effect on the genre as a whole.  My belief is that studios are using the horror genre as a way to generate a quick influx of cash, knowing that there is a built in audience of people who watch horror movies no matter what it is.  That’s why you see so many horror films quickly drop off after their opening weekend.  There seems to be the belief nowadays that you can pass off something as a horror movie if it has one or two big scares; but the reality is that the best horror films don’t always rely on things that make us jump out of our seats.

What makes a great Horror movie is the use of atmosphere.  This has been the case since the very beginning; back when cinema was still silent.  F.W. Murnau’s silent masterpiece Nosferatu shows exactly how atmosphere can be used to signify terror.  In the movie, we see how simple staging and effective use of shadows can be used to terrifying effect.  The vampire Count Orlok, played by actor Max Schreck, is able to strike at his victims using just his shadow, an image in the film that is made simply with the movie’s use of lighting, but still done with chilling effectiveness.  Early Hollywood horror films likewise made great use of atmosphere.  If you look at a movie like Dracula, there is actually very little on-screen violence present.  Instead, the film presents a feeling of dread through the gloomy atmosphere of the vampire’s castle.  Thanks to that, and Bela Lugosi’s iconic performance, you don’t need to see the bloodletting of Dracula’s victims in order to be scared.  This has helped to give these movies lasting power over so many years.  It’s amazing that movies made in the early days of cinema can still be scary, given all the limitations they had.  And given all the bad things we’ve seen happen to movie vampires in recent years (I’m looking at you Twilight), I’m glad that Lugosi’s version of the Count still can create a chill.

Understandably, the horror genre has had to grow and evolve with the times in order to survive, but for many years there was still an emphasis on atmosphere at play.  The more rebellious era of the 70’s allowed for more use of onscreen violence, and while many filmmakers perhaps went a little overboard in this period, there were a few that actually made an impact.  Dario Argento created films that were not only gory but also artistically staged like The Cat of Nine Tales (1971), Deep Red (1975) and the very twisted Suspiria (1977), which showed off how atmosphere could still be used to enhance the gore on film.  Director George A. Romero likewise used atmosphere effectively in a sub-genre of horror that he helped create; the zombie flick.  Despite the fact that these directors were given more leeway to do what they wanted, what made their early work so effective was in how they showed restraint.  You can show a lot more in horror movies nowadays, but sometimes what remains unseen becomes the scariest element, and that’s why films of this era managed to be effective.  The filmmakers knew when to be shocking and when to show restraint, based on what the horror movies that inspired them had done in the past.  But, as generations of filmmakers become more desensitized to what can be allowed in a horror movie, that sense of restraint also goes away.

The problem that I see in most modern horror movies today is that there is no self-restraint left in them.  For the most part, the filmmakers chose to throw atmosphere out the window in favor of “jump scares.”  A “jump scare” is when something suddenly pops onto screen out of nowhere in an attempt to make the audience scream and jump all at the same time, usually accompanied with a loud music cue to maximize effect.  A “jump scare” can work, when it is used sparingly, but too many films today are overusing it, which diminishes it’s effectiveness over time.  One of the best examples of a jump scare is actually in a film that you would consider more of a thriller than a horror movie; Jaws (1975).  The scene in question is when scientist Hooper (Richard Dreyfuss) is investigating a shark attack on a fishing boat at night.  While examining the hole in the bottom of the boat, a severed head pops out suddenly, creating a genuine scare for both him and the audience.  This scene is effective because it is unexpected and is built up thanks to the atmosphere of the moment.  Also, it is one of the few times that director Steven Spielberg actually uses a “jump scare” in the movie.  The  fewer times it happens, the more effective it is, and unfortunately that’s a technique that few horror filmmakers today understand.  When you use a technique too many times, it becomes tiresome and the audiences become more aware of it.  Unfortunately, too many filmmakers get carried away and have too much fun creating these kinds of “jump scares.”

One other problem I have noticed with modern horror films is the over-abundance of CGI.  While computer effects can sometimes be helpful in a horror film, like making it look like a character has lost a limp or manipulating an environment in a way that defies physics, there is a larger problem of effects work making moments that should be scary less so.  The problem is that most computer effects look too artificial.  Of course, when you see puppetry and prosthetic work used in horror movies, they are far from realistic too, but those effects are at least are physical in nature and actors can still interact with them.  When you see a horror movie use CGI too much, you just know that the actors are reacting to nothing else but a green screen effect.  A recent movie like Mama (2013), loses all effective chills when you see the digital apparition in it appear.  This is more apparent in smaller budget horror films, which you can kinda excuse due to limitations in budgets.  But when a bigger budget horror film, like the upcoming Carrie remake, looks so pathetic because of the overdone CGI effects, then you begin to see how digital imagery has a negative effect on the genre.  Even a good horror film like World War Z suffered from some unnecessary CGI work, which had the unfortunate affect of making the zombies less frightening.  If ever there was a place where I wish horror filmmakers would show more restraint, it would be here.

One other problem that I see plaguing the horror genre is the lack of original ideas.  Today we are seeing an overabundance of the same kinds of ideas used over and over again.  Seriously, how many haunted house movies do we need?  Not only that, there are far too many remakes and sequels in the horror genre.  Do we really need seven Saw movies and four Paranormal Activities?  Horror sequels have become so absurdly common, that we have ridiculous titles like The Last Exorcism 2 and A Haunting in Connecticut 2: Ghosts of Georgia appear as a result; and yes that second title is real.  I see it as commerce taking precedence over artistic vision, and the fact that film studios are more likely to invest in something already established than in something new.  Every now and then, you do see a movie with a fresh idea come about, like Paranormal Activity in 2007, but even that was driven into ground with too many follow ups with diminishing returns.

Remakes are also a negative factor in horror movies today.  What you usually see in these horror remakes are films that get rid of all the atmosphere from the originals in favor of upping the gore factor and the scary bits; just because filmmakers have the ability to do now what could only be implied at in the past.  The problem with this is that it completely misses the point of what made the original films so effective in the first place.  A particular example is the terrible remake of John Carpenter’s The Thing, which loses all of the substance of the original in favor of just making the film as gory as possible.  Gore does not equal scary.  Filmmakers like Carpenter knew that, and that’s why they used gore sparingly.  The sad thing is that remakes try to one up these originals because the tools today are so much better; but it fails miserably every time.

Thankfully, despite the attempts by Hollywood to try to push the Horror genre into more exploitative territories, the classics still hold up all these years later.  Even a 90 year old film like Nosferatu still gives audiences chills to this day.  And I think that it all comes down to atmosphere.  It’s like how people tell ghost stories around a campfire.  Would you rather listen to the story that builds up to a chilling ending that’ll leave you with nightmares, or would you rather listen to someone’s story that gets caught up in the gory details and then just ends without a payoff?  That’s what’s being lost in horror movies today.  The classics knew how to build their stories around scary ideas, and not just the imagery.  The Twilight Zone became popular on television because it presented us with unsettling scenarios that made us anxious the longer we thought about them.  Not once did we see the monster on the wing of a plane attack William Shatner in the famous episode; it was the frightening possibilities that could have come about that made the episode scary and also Shatner’s paranoia in his performance.  The best horror movies have staying power because they knew that their audiences had the imaginations capable of filling in the gory details that remained unseen.

So, is horror a dying genre?  Of course not.  There is an abundance of terrible horror movies out there, but that’s only because the market has been flooded.  Every now and then, a fresh new idea comes along and not only makes an impact, but it will also go on to influence the genre as a whole.  One thing that I would like to see an end to in the horror genre is the over-abundance of terrible remakes.  Just looking at the new Carrie remake trailer makes me laugh, because it’s taking everything that worked in the original and makes it less subtle.  I believe it strongly; CGI, and shaky-cam for that matter, are making horror films less frightening.  They are showy techniques that ruin atmosphere needed for a good horror movie and I wish more filmmakers would show more restraint.  I’ve stayed away from horror films generally because of this, and the horror movies that I gravitate towards are ones that have been around a long time.  If you’re wondering which one I consider my favorite, it would be Stanley Kubrick’s The Shining (1980).  Talk about a film that makes the most out of it’s atmosphere.  I hope that other horror filmmakers take a look at what makes the classics as scary as they are, and learn the effectiveness of restraint.  You’d be surprised how much a little scare can go when it’s built up well enough.

If there was ever a place where the word “bad” could be considered a relative term, it would be in the movies.  Over the course of film history, we have seen Hollywood and the film industry at large put out an astounding variety of movies, and not all of them have hit their targets the way that the filmmakers had intended.  If you produce hundreds of products within a given year, the odds are that some, if not most of them are not going to be good.  But like most things, one man’s trash can be another man’s treasure, and that has led to a fascinating occurrence in the film community.  Some “bad movies” have actually earned a fanbase all on their own, finding an audience in some unexpected ways.  This has been the case with films that have built a reputation over time, but nowadays, we are actually seeing intentionally bad movies become phenomenally successful upon their initial releases, as was the case with the premiere of Sharknado on the SyFy Channel earlier this summer.  How and why “bad movies” find their audiences is still a mystery to many, but what I love about this trend is that it shakes up our preconceived notions about the film industry, and makes us reconsider what we find entertaining in the first place.

So, what is it about these “bad” movies that makes them so entertaining to us?  The truth is that there is no “one thing” that defines the success behind these films, and usually it’s all relative to each individual movie.  Sometimes it’s the incompetency behind the making of the film that we find so entertaining.  Sometimes it’s because the film is so out-of-date that it becomes hilarious.  Sometimes it’s the lack of self-awareness and ego behind the director’s vision.  And sometimes it’s the filmmakers just not giving a damn what other people think and just going all out with their material. The formula has no consistency, and yet we see many film’s fall into these many different categories of “bad” films.  Usually the best of the these are the ones that fulfill the criteria of a “bad” movie so perfectly, that it becomes memorable and re-watchable.  Only in rare cases does this work intentionally, and usually the best “bad” films arise from an unexpected accident.

Some of the best “bad’ movies have come out of turmoil, which makes their existence all the more fascinating.  Usually this is attributed to movies that were made despite the fact that their filmmakers didn’t know what they were doing.  One of the most notorious examples of this was the 1966 cult classic, Manos: The Hands of Fate.  Manos was the creation of Hal Warren, a fertilizer salesman from El Paso, Texas who made a bet with a screenwriter friend of his that he could make his own movie without any help from Hollywood.  Making good on his wager, Mr. Warren wrote and directed this schlocky horror film centered around a cult leader named the Master (pictured above) who holds a family hostage in his compound, which is watched over by a lecherous caretaker named Torgo.  Hal Warren shot the film with a camera that could only shot 30 seconds of film at a time with no recorded sound, and most of the movie was shot at night with set lighting attracting moths in almost every shot.  The finished film is a convoluted mess and it ended any shot for Hal Warren to pursue a career in filmmaking.  However, many years later, the film was rediscovered by the producers of the show Mystery Science Theater, who then featured it on their show and created a renewed interest in this odd little film that no one outside of Texas knew about.  Manos became a hit afterwards because people were fascinated by how silly this poorly made film was, something that the MST crew had a hand in.  Since then, Manos has earned a reputation for being among the worst films ever made, and that in itself has made it a favorite for people who gravitate towards that.

While Manos represents an example of a disaster turned into a success, there are other bad films that have become fan favorites just out of being incredibly dated.  These movies usually make up the majority of what people consider good “bad” films, since most films are a product of their times.  Whether people are entertained by these because of their “out-of-date” nature or merely because of shear nostalgia, there’s no denying that time has a way of changing how we view these kinds of movies.  The 1950’s has become an era that many film fans find to be full of some good trash, mainly due to the rise of the B-movie in this period of time.  Some cult hits like The Blob (1958), Creature from the Black Lagoon (1954), Attack of the 50 ft. Woman (1958), and The Thing from Another World (1951) all rode the surge of a sci-fi craze of the post-war years, and while everything from these films, like the visual effects and the acting, feels antiquated today, they still have a camp value that makes them watchable all these years later.  The “cheese factor” plays a big role in keeping these films entertaining long after their relevance has diminished.  You can see this also in the beach party movies of the early 60’s, which are charming despite their paper-thin plots. The one other era that has produced it’s own distinctive set of dated films would be the 1980’s, with it’s collection of dated fantasy pictures and culturally infused fluff, like He-Man inspired Masters of the Universe (1987) or the E.T. wannabe Mac and Me (1988).  By all accounts, these films would have long been forgotten outside of their era, and yet they have lived on with audiences who still find something entertaining in them.

One of my favorite types of “bad” film is the kind that comes from a complete lack of control from either the director or the performer.  There have been some directors that have actually gained their reputation as an filmmaker by staying within the B-Movie community.  The most famous of these filmmakers has become Ed Wood Jr.; a person who some have claimed to be the worst director in history.  Ed Wood’s notable contributions to cinema have been the cross-dressing comedy Glen or Glenda (1953), the Bela Lugosi-starring Bride of the Monster (1955), and what many consider the director’s “masterpiece,” Plan 9 from Outer Space (1959).  Whether or not Ed Wood was earnest in his vision or whether he made his film’s intentionally bad is still debated, but there is no doubt that Plan 9 is a special kind of “bad;” a movie so aggressively cheesy, that it is hard not to be entertained by it.

Other filmmakers who were more aware of their B-Movie status have still gained an honored reputation with audiences.  Roger Corman, a man who prided himself in making movies both fast and cheap, has actually become influential to a who generation of blockbuster filmmakers.  His Little Shop of Horrors (1962) even inspired a Broadway musical.  Also, sometimes a way out there performance can often make a “bad” movie worth watching.  I would argue that this is the case with most Nicolas Cage films, like Vampire’s Kiss (1988) or Ghost Rider: Spirit of Vengeance (2012).  One film that has become a cult classic mainly due to one “out-of-control” performance was 1981’s Mommie Dearest, where Faye Dunaway chews the scenery in a good way as a way over-the-top Joan Crawford.  Usually a lack of restraint by the filmmakers can sink a film, but these movies actually prove that it’s not always the case.

While many films usually become a cult hit over time, there a select few that attempt to achieve cult status right away by being intentionally bad.  Like I stated earlier, Sharknado became an instant hit when it premiered on cable, and having seen the film myself, it’s clear that the filmmakers behind it knew what kind of movie they were making.  Rarely do you see filmmakers try to aim for that intentionally “bad” gimmick for their movies, because obviously if audiences don’t accept it, then you’ve just made a bad movie.  Director Tim Burton tried to create a homage to B-Movie sci-fi with his 1996 film Mars Attacks, but the film was an odd blend of tounge-in-cheek mockery with earnest storytelling, and the end result doesn’t achieve what it set out to do.

But, one example of an intentionally bad film that did click with audiences is the campy musical The Rocky Horror Picture Show (1975); a movie that pays homage to campy horror and sci-fi, while mixing in 50’s rock music and trans-sexual humor.  Rocky Horror tries so hard to be so bad, you would think that the whole thing would be a mess; and yet, it remains entertaining and it has one of the most dedicated fanbases in  the world.  I think the reason why a movie like Rocky Horror works is because of the fact that it just doesn’t care what people will think about it.  It is what it is, and that’s why people gravitate to it.  It’s a one of a kind.  A movie like Mars Attacks didn’t click as a throwback, because it didn’t have that same kind of assured belief in itself, and that shows why it is hard to make a bad movie feel good.

When it comes down to it, “bad” movies are usually determined by the tastes of the people who watch them.  We have made some of these “bad” movies our favorites because of the value we find in their chessy-ness, or by our fascination with how badly it gets things wrong.  For a movie to be all around bad, it has to lack any kind of entertainment value in the end.  For those who are wondering, the worst movie that I have ever seen, and one I see no redeeming value in, is the 1996 film Space Jam.  To me, it was the worst experience I have ever had watching a movie, mainly because I saw it as a blatant self-serving production piece for a sports super star (Michael Jordan) and it ruined three things on film that I love dearly: NIKE, Looney Tunes, and Bill Murray.  But, I do recognize that the film does have its fans, so in the end it all comes down to taste.  But, it is fascinating how our tastes leave room for something as poorly made as a Manos or even the more recent Birdemic: Shock and Terror (2010), a movie that needs to be seen to be believed.  There is certainly value in seeing something that we find entertaining, and perhaps that is why these films live on the way they do.