I guess I put bad movies into three catagories.

Low budget movies made by people who lack both the talent and resources to make do with little. I have a certain affection for these films. The kind of sympathy I have for street vendors hawking second rate stuff on the street and dreaming of making it big someday. Or similarly, for street singers who aren't all that good but are out there anyway.

Then there are the pure exploitation movies, whose raison detre is to make as cheap a product as possible and hit the market, and sell as many as possible before people find out how bad it is. There's lots of 'kids' movies and videos the fall into this category, most smut does too, and then there are the classic blaxploitation movies like Blacula, or Come Back Charelston Blue. Although I have to admit, some of the latter were campy fun in there own way. My favorite is 'The Legend of Billy Jean', a 'Teen Rebellion' movie with all the classic stereotyped elements. By far the best part of the movie is when the wrongfully accused misfit outlaw teens are being pursued by police, and are being fired upon during a car chase. The 'token plain girl' that the 'beautiful lead girl' has befriended looks down and notices blood on her legs. Is she shot? No! Its the onset of menses, her first period for which she has been longing! Amidst the gunfire she exchanges looks of pride with the beautiful lead and receives the silent and proud affirmation of welcome into womanhood. A moment of special bonding that transcends the potentially fatal high speed car chase.

But by far the worst films are the ones made by people that have the resources to make a good movie and end up making a really bad one, seemingly on purpose. You always wonder what happens. There are brilliant writers out there, good actors, technical expertise, all available, and yet the stuff that gets to the screen...feh! Some of it actually does well, like the stuff with Patrick Swayze in it. Ghost was terrible, but people flocked in droves, and you know what was doubly sad? There was a british film with almost the same premise called Truly, Madly, Deeply (If you haven't seen it, rent it) that was orders of magnitude funnier, more poigniant, more romantic than Ghost could ever hope to be. (Not to mention that Ghost had one of the most egregious continuity errors of all time. Remember the 'erotic' potter's wheel scene set to Unchained Melody, where he sits down behind her and starts working the soft wet clay with her? Both of them are muddy up the thier elbows, and the next thing we see them standing in the living room with the same clothes on, spottlessly clean, groping each other in a passionate kiss. What? Did they bathe, wash and dry the clothes, get dressed again and come back to pick up where they left off???) I'm sorry but I digress.

Then there was 'Down and Out in Beverly Hills', the Nick Nolte vehicle with Richard Dreyfus, Bette Midler, Winona Ryder and Mike the Dog. The premise was that a despondent, somewhat antisocial homeless man gets taken in to the household of an affluent factory owner in Beverly Hills. The main story is that the husband is at odds with his wife and daughter. The resolution of this conflict is achieved when the antisocial, selfish stranger, gives a good F*(&# to first the mother then the daughter. Ah women, the movie proclaims, when they become shrewish, distant and disatisfied, all they need to get back in balance is a good screw by an anonymous man who doesn't give a damn about them. That'll fix everything! Forget actual communication, or getting to the root of the problem, just get someone to @#$% em'. Works like a charm. God I hate that movie.