Here’s something you probably didn’t know about me.
I’ve never walked out on a movie.
I’ve never walked out on a movie.
I know. Weird, right? Considering how many I’ve seen over the course of my life, you'd think, especially with so many of them being of questionable content, at least ONE would’ve had me bolting for the exit. But nope. In the beginning, I think my reluctance to leave may have just been my easy-going attitude toward film. I was usually able to find at least one positive thing in even the most trite titles. Then, as time went on, never leaving a film became a “thing”. When watching a particularly absymal offering, I began to think, “is this really bad enough to be the one that broke me?” Then, my cocktail conversation piece would no longer be, “You know, I’ve never walked out on a film”, but “you know, I’d never walked out on a film, until such and such.”
However, there have been times when I've seriously considered it. Here below, are five notable almost-walkouts from my three decades of movie going.
Rob Zombie’s Halloween was a movie I would’ve been very happy to boycott. To bitch about remakes in general is a knee-jerk reaction, but this one seemed especially blasphemous. What was it that Zombie, or anyone for that matter, could bring to the table that would make Halloween anymore relevant than it already was. Plus, there was the whole thing about Zombie previously being quoted as saying that anyone who remakes a classic is an asshole. So, my friend Serena basically had to drag me, but I did end up seeing it. It DID have Malcolm MacDowell and Danielle Harris, and The Devil’s Rejects WAS a vast improvement over 1000 Corpses, so maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Well, it wasn’t terrible, but it was far from good. Really all I remember about that movie now - apart from Harris lying topless in a pool of blood – is that terrible, TERRIBLE sequence where a young Michael sits waiting on his front porch to go trick or treating, set to the tune of Nazareth's Love Hurts. I almost wanted to cry, because it was the worst fucking thing ever. I looked over at Serena and gave her a look like “is this actually happening?” Fortunately, the second half of the movie was a little bit more palatable.
Holy God, Captivity was dreadful. I just felt bad for Elisha Cuthbert. This movie was so far beneath her. Shit, it was beneath ANY actress. I’ll unfortunately never forget that scene where the villain fed her blended up body parts through a funnel. That was so vile, it actually made me embarassed to be a horror fan. I think that was also the moment I turned the corner on the whole torture subgenre.
Mad Cowgirl was an indie that played the first year of Toronto After Dark. TAD is prone to a stinker or two per year, but this one went below and beyond the call of duty. It was past midnight on a Monday when Serena, DirtyRobot & I sat through this piece of shit, and all we could collectively think through most of it was the sleep we were missing out on. I still cringe when I see the DVD in a video store.
If you make an Alien sequel that makes Alien 3 look like a masterpiece by comparison, then you know you’ve made a grave error somewhere. That Joss Whedon wrote this – the crew of the Betty was basically a blueprint for what would become Firefly – is interesting in retrospect, but what a complete mess this was. The underwater sequence is solid, but so much of Alien: Resurrection is just meandering bullshit. I think what put me over the edge was Brad Dourif cooing “What a beeoootiful baby!” at that alien hybird thingie. I had to shake my head and go, “why the fuck am I still here?”
Hole In My Heart is by far the worse “film” I have ever seen on the big screen. This is somewhat ironic considering during his TIFF intro, Swedish director Lucas Moodyson, actually had the audacity to say this would be the best film we would ever see. Seriously? It is basically two dudes and a chick trying to film an amateur porn, interpersed with one of their kids spewing philosophy into an infrared camera. It is the most self-indulgent, pretentious exercise in repugnance I have ever been witness to. Above is the poster that doesn't have that girl lying in a pool of vomit. You're welcome. You know what the sad thing is? I WOULD have actually walked out of this one, but some fat, wheezy fucktard decided to plop himself down beside me about five minutes in. There was a wall on my other side, so I was pretty much boxed in. I recall I had to later scrape up hot garbage that had been strewn about my driveway by the neighbourhood raccoons. That was a preferable experience.
So, there you go. As the years tick by and I grow more jaded, I wonder if I'll ever reach my breaking point. Like I tend to say at year's end, I'm pretty good at spotting the zeros. I don't generally see many movies that I hate outright anymore. However, I have this nagging feeling that there is one out there somewhere, waiting to take the title. Maybe I should make a trophy or something.