Most people have the ability to recognize their talents. It’s
an ability that has been crafted from birth after years of social interaction
and people telling you what you suck at, or at the very least not praising you
for your ineptitude. For example, I’m in the top ten for World’s Worst Artist,
so when I drew pictures as a child, I’m sure my mom dutifully hung it on the
fridge and hoped company wouldn’t make a comment so she’d have to blame it on
the cat again. “Oh, that’s just Mittens getting into the watercolors.” But what
about the people who were never told that they suck? These were kids whose moms
couldn’t bear to look at the lowly drawing of a flower (or bunny? a crime
scene? possibly Spongebob? It’s so hard to tell…) and break it to them they would never be an artist. So they did the only thing they could think of and exclaimed,
“Somebody call the Louvre!”
And then some of these kids grew up and, with their ability
to discern talent blown from years of undeserved praise, went into the film
industry.
Here’s where I confess that I love terrible movies. Not the
kind of terrible where you wish you hadn’t spent that dollar at Redbox on the
new Nicolas Cage movie because you totally could’ve just watched Tangled for
the 37th time. I’m talking about the kind of terrible that leaves
you laughing hysterically at the juxtaposition of how poorly written, produced,
acted, and directed the movie was and how everyone involved expected to be
showered with Oscars. Here’s also where I confess that I have a deep character
flaw that makes me laugh uncontrollably at other people’s failures and then
kick them while they’re down.
YOU… *kick*… MAKE …*kick*… TERRIBLE… *kick*… MOVIES!...
*kick*
In my search for the Worst Movie Ever Made, I’ve come across
some real stinkers. They produce the kind of stench that settles in a room like
a thick fog that plugs your facial orifices and robs you of the ability and desire to breathe. I've watched The Room about five times. I've met the lead actor in Troll 2 and gotten a signed poster. But I've just found a new movie to add to the Hollywood Hall of Shame.
Birdemic: Shock and Terror
I watched this for the first time last night with some friends, and although
my experience was aided by Rifftrax, it truly is hilariously bad on its own. The first
half of the movie is about the budding romance between Rod, a cardboard cutout
who was never told he gained sentience, and Nathalie, a promising lingerie
model who likes her men boring and unemotive. They have all the sexual tension
and chemistry of a tube of toothpaste and a lint brush. Most of their dates
involve driving cautiously down the street and parking, because the director is
very careful to establish how characters arrive at their destination. During
some points I wasn’t sure if I was watching Birdemic or the safety videos in my
tenth grade Driver’s Ed class. Not that their actual date activities are any more thrilling, as evidenced by this clip from their romantic outing at the local VFW hall.
Yes, that’s a poor man’s Luther Vandross singing about
hanging out with his family while the only patrons in the entire building
do such white person classics as The Snake and The Robot. The song takes an unexpected and disturbing
twist when Luther stops wanting to hang out and starts wanting to hook up. Please, if you are related to this man, do not
invite him to your reunions.
The second half of the movie involves kamikaze CGI birds
that were rendered on an Etch-a-Sketch and added in post-production using a Lite Brite. After what I can only assume was a passionless night in a motel, Rod and Nathalie awake to birds mysteriously attacking the city. And
in true kamikaze fashion, the birds explode on impact. Having ignored the
basics of script writing, plot development, and computer modeling, it only makes
sense for writer/producer/director/scientist James Nguyen to abandon all notions of biology and physics. Rod and Nathalie make
friends with a couple in a neighboring motel room, and together they set out
for…well, I’m not really sure what their plan is. They just kinda start driving
around (cautiously, of course).
The two halves of the movie almost don’t match, and the
setup takes so long and is so poorly orchestrated that by the time the birds arrive
you are rooting for them to kill everyone and declare a new avian government.
But the humans fight back, at first with coat hangers and then with AK-47’s. No
poorly animated birds were harmed in the filming of this movie, though, because
the gunfire is about as real as pointing your finger and yelling Bang!.
Eventually our hero and heroine pick up some orphans whose
parents were viciously killed by the birdemic, and instead of, I dunno, CALLING
THE POLICE AND WAITING INDOORS WHERE THE BIRDS CAN’T GET YOU, they have a
picnic in a field particularly susceptible to air raids. Along the way you find
out why the birds have been attacking, and it’s just what Al Gore has been
warning us about all along - global warming. The film is rife with environmental themes
and guilt trips, which is all fine and dandy, but I’m pretty sure for every one
person Birdemic: Shock and Terror has convinced to buy a Prius there are ten
angry movie buffs who were incited to start tire fires.
At the end of the movie *SPOILER ALERT* the birds just…fly
away. Into the sunset. No rhyme or reason is given, we just are left to assume
that their murderous impulses are satisfied as they fly out over the ocean
during a painfully long camera shot that is probably still rolling and may in
fact be a live feed of the actors held at gunpoint and sedated on the beach. This
sets up the possibility for a sequel, if it weren’t for the fact that James Nguyen surely learned his lesson by the thousands of
movie patrons telling him how terrible his movie was and that he should try his
hand at something he might be more suited for, like literally any other hobby in the world.
His lesson not learned is my gain.
As a movie meant to be art, Birdemic: Shock and Terror fails miserably. It is awarded a zero on every scale imaginable and creates a black hole that won't allow a positive number to ever escape. But as a movie meant to entertain by any means necessary, it is a triumph. A true crapterpiece of bad writing, bad acting, and bad directing. I thoroughly enjoyed it, so that leads to the question, "Is Birdemic a success?" Also, "should I feel bad for deriding everyone involved in a movie that I gained pleasure from?" I'll leave these questions for the birds.
The birds say, "Yes."
