Worst Movies Ever Made

Scraping the Bottom of the Cinematic Barrel

CATEGORY: Drama

Worst Women-In-Prison TV Soap – Prisoner Cell: Block H (1979-1986)

41ahCEFkrpL_cropTitle:  Prisoner: Cell Block H (1979-1986)

Starring:  Elspeth Ballantyne, Betty Bobbitt, Sheila Florance, Maggie Kirkpatrick, Val Lehman, Patsy King,

Buy here:  Amazon UK

I love a bit of “chicks in chains” action myself, you know, those women in prison movies where every inmate looks like a Playboy centrefold and the shower facilities are in use 24/7. The wardens are usually raving lesbians, but good looking with it, and the sex mad male governor has a working hot tub in his office.

Please put all of these things out of your mind when you come to watch Prisoner: Cell Block H, though. Prisoner: Cell Block H is an Australian soap produced by The Reg Grundy Organisation which was originally devised as a 16-part mini-series. It proved so popular, however, that it ran for 692 episodes between early 1979 to late 1986.

Okay, now I know that this website is all about bad movies and TV shows, but just as there’s a thin line between love and hate there’s also a very narrow margin between what’s brilliant and what’s abysmal. Prisoner: Cell Block H may be one of the worst women in prison shows ever made, or one of the best. It’s certainly a programme that has inspired a cult following, and Sammy Davis Jr reportedly loved it, even asking to visit the set one time.

Unlike many soaps, the show was first broadcast in the U.K. late at night to reflect its adult content involving lesbianism, bullying, sadistic guards, prison gangs, drugs and even terrorist sieges. It actually made perfect post-pub viewing because viewers really needed a few pints inside them to cope with the scary look of the inmates.

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Initially produced by Reg Watson, who was also responsible for Crossroads, The Young Doctors, Sons and Daughters and Neighbours, the series was set in Wentworth Prison, a grim institution whose walls seemed to be made out of cardboard.

One of the main central characters – at least until episode 400 – was stocky, ginger-haired Bea Smith (Val Lehman), aka ‘Queen Bee”. She didn’t give a monkey’s right from the first episode: “Yes my name is Beatrice Alice Smith, yes I killed my husband – he deserved it. Yes I’m gonna be here for the rest of my life. Now why don’t you just check through this lot, give me a form to sign and throw me into a cell.”

Bea had a face like a bulldog chewing a wasp and was top dog at the prison, which meant she always got the biggest portions in the canteen. Anyone who got in her way was informed: “You’re history, bitch.” She shot one of her enemies in the head with a homemade zip gun and drowned another in the sink in the shower room.

Joan “The Freak” Ferguson (Maggie Kirkpatrick) was Queen Bea’s opposite number among the wardens, a nasty lesbian who loved putting her trademark black gloves on for some intimate frisking. Another warder who enjoyed sadistically tormenting the inmates was Vera Bennett (Fiona Spence), who became one of the show’s most iconic characters under her highly appropriate nickname of “Vinegar Tits.”

Of course for every bad warder there’s a good warder, and that was kindly and compassionate Meg (Elspeth Ballantyne), always trying to talk prisoners out of hanging themselves in their cell – with varying degrees of success. Elspeth was the only actress to appear in every single episode of the show.

While the majority of passing through inmates fell into the categories of raging lesbian, tarty nymphomaniac hooker or both, the regulars were slightly better developed. A viewer favourite was feisty, institutionalised old-timer Lizzie Birdsworth (Sheila Florance), who looked like Methuselah’s mother. She appeared to have been left in the sun since puberty, and smoked sixty coffin nails a day while out there. Lizzie was inside for poisoning four sheep shearers who complained about her cooking, so they stuck her in the canteen.

Patsy King was also notable as snobbish upper class Prison Governess Erica Davidson, a part originally offered to – and turned down by – Googie Withers, who had played a similar role in the UK show Within These Walls. Erica was a firm believer in rehabilitation, even after getting shot in episode 82.

41G-vCy7NnL_cropHer second in command was Jim Fletcher (Gerard Maguire), better known as “Fletch the Letch” because of his habit of perving on inmates. He was known to be firm but fair though, and especially the former when up to his Peeping Tom larks. At one point he had sex with an ex-prisoner, but in his defence he was trying to help the police solve a robbery case, and he was in it for the reward money.

Of course you’ll already know all this if you’re a fan of the show, and chances are you’ll also have splurged on Prisoner: Cell Block H - The Largest Box Set On Earth. Digitally restored, it features 174 DVDs across 40 volumes and tons of extras and is the ultimate collector’s edition for those who can’t get enough of Australia’s most controversial soap.

512RFB5YR0L_cropIf you haven’t tried the show before but this brief look at it has piqued your curiosity, you may want to start by checking out Fremantle’s box set of The Best of Prisoner: Cell Block H. Do get your beer goggles on before viewing though, it definitely helps.

Best Worst Movies Ever: Caligula (1979)

71wSwGqEY9L_SL1024_cropTitle:  Caligula (1979)
Directed by:  Tinto Brass
Starring:  Malcolm McDowell, John Gielgud, Helen Mirren, Peter O’Toole, John Steiner, Teresa Ann Savoy, Adriana Asti, Paolo Bonacelli, Lori Wagner
Buy here:  Amazon UK

Ah, the majesty of the Roman Empire! The marching legions of Julius Caesar, the breathtaking spectacle of the Circus Maximus, and the legendary debauchery of Rome’s most notorious Emperor, Gaius Caesar Augustus Germanicus – better known by his one-word moniker, Caligula. In Latin, the name Caligula means “little boots,” but there is nothing little about the boots any would-be successor of this pervert extraordinaire would have to fill.

Among Caligula’s most infamous exploits were a long-standing incestuous relationship with his sister Drusilla, an endless succession of sex partners of both genders and all ages, and the solid gold statue of himself he had built as an idol to be worshipped. He also had a penchant for carrying out prolonged, agonisingly inventive torture on his perceived enemies and once famously launched a massive military campaign against the sea god Neptune, ordering his Roman legions to hurl their spears into the ocean.

Historians have explained Caligula’s bizarre behaviour as a result of his childhood in an atmosphere of political intrigue and betrayal, his tainted family tree (both his grandfather Tiberius and his nephew Nero shared his unusual sexual tastes) and/or a craziness cocktail of epilepsy mixed with schizophrenia. Whatever the cause, the life and times of this imperial freak-show was the source material for the spectacular 1979 Caligula, a $22million flop that was the first step down the path of financial ruin for Penthouse publisher Bob Guccione.

The biggest-budgeted porn movie of all time, Caligula featured such established names as John Gielgud, Peter O’Toole (probably the most aptly named cast member), Malcolm McDowell and even our own dear Queen Helen Mirren cavorting amid a welter of happily fornicating bodies. Unsurprisingly, every major actor involved has since publicly expressed their regret at signing on for these Roman scandals. The A-list cast apparently only discovered they’d been in a porn movie after a bloke down the pub told them…

51arxUBqJ8L_cropGuccione hired Tinto Brass, helmer of Salon Kitty and numerous other Euro-sex masterworks to film all this, which seemed like a wise move at the start. After all, as the saying goes, where there’s muck there’s brass. Hiring acclaimed literary writer Gore Vidal to pen the screenplay took part of the gore side of the equation.

But it all went tits up, so to speak. Bob couldn’t resist meddling, and as the budget spiraled out of control Tinto got fired and Gore tried to get his name removed from the credits. It’s still not clear whether it was Bob or Tito who added the six minutes of hardcore porn involving Penthouse Pets.

Various lawsuits flew back and forth and the film was mired in litigation for two years. When it finally got released, Caligula was labeled a ponderous, campy mess by critics and played solely in one posh Manhattan locale, The Penthouse East, which was equipped with overstuffed upholstered chairs and a then-hefty ticket price of $8.

Since then there have been numerous versions of this notorious sex and violence epic in circulation, most trimmed of the best bits – and yes, we do mean the more extreme hardcore sex and violence. Regular cuts included a scene where a drunken soldier is force-fed wine through a funnel, and then spectacularly disembowelled, and a bit where a severed penis is thrown out as dog food after a torture murder.

Nowadays you can see the film totally uncut thanks to Arrow’s magnificent UK Blu-ray release. Yes, it’s still a total mess, but well worth watching as tribute to the late Guccione’s massive ego. One priceless extra includes a guided tour of the sets in Italy conducted by Bob himself circa 1976, wearing at least 6 pounds of gold chains around his neck!

Felliini would never have been so ostentatious.

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Worst Movies Ever: Last Year At Marienbad (1961)

41HxrYaorEL_cropTitle:  Last Year In Marienbad (1961)
Directed by:  Alain Resnais
Starring:  Delphine Seyrig, Giorgio Albertazzi, Sacha Piteoff, Wilhelm Von Deek, Jean Lanier, Gerard Lorin
Buy here:  Amazon UK

I have to admit that I’m not a great fan of arty movies. In fact you could say I don’t know my arthouse from my elbow. I know when a film is a load of old pseudo-intellectual claptrap though, and would certainly apply that description to Last Year In Marienbad. This ridiculous movie from French ‘New Wave’ director Alain Resnais is harder to figure than Chinese arithmetic – and considerably less interesting.

The highbrow critics loved it, and still do, but to my mind Marienbad is one of the most boring, pretentious pictures I’ve ever clapped my viewing glasses on, so repetitious, slow-moving and impossible-to-understand that it couldn’t have been worse if they had just left the lens cap on during filming. As for the plot, well I’ve seen better in a cemetery.

There’s this geezer named ‘X’ (Giorgio Albertazzi) who mumbles away to himself while taking a stroll through a cold-looking chateau spa.

“I walk on, once again, down these corridors, through these halls, these galleries, in this structure – of another century, this enormous, luxurious, baroque, lugubrious hotel – where corridors succeed endless corridors – silent deserted corridors overloaded with dim, cold ornamentation of woodwork stucco moldings, marble, black mirrors, dark paintings, columns, heavy hanging sculptured door frames…”

X rattles on in this vein for what seems like hours, leading one to believe he may be an estate agent with severe mental problems. But then he meets ‘A’ (Delphine Seyrig), who it seems he may have bumped into a year ago and had a brief affair with at same hotel.

Or maybe it wasn’t here that they had a shag, maybe it was in Marienbad? Maybe it wasn’t either. Maybe it was two other people who played the beast with two backs together. The French have been known for not being fussy. X still fancies making alphabet soup with the delectable Ms A though, and that’s really all the film is about.

The fly in the ointment is Sacha Piteoff, aka ‘M’, who has accompanied A to the chateau. Is he her husband, her lover, her chauffeur, her chiropodist? Will he give X a good punch on the nose? Will X realize he has bisexual tendencies and go off with M instead? Nothing much is really resolved at the end. Well, I say that, but I’ve never managed to stay awake to find out.

The three stars deliver their largely incoherent lines with all the urgency of Royal Mail second class post, and they do their best to look like wax museum figures while doing so. Seyrig spends a great deal of the movie standing motionless with her hands held rigidly at her sides and the blank expression of an Apprentice candidate.

Yes, Last Year At Marienbad is indeed a puzzle, but one where somebody has chucked the picture on the box away, along with all of the bloody corner pieces. Even the director had no idea what it was all about. In one interview he mused: “It’s possible the entire action of Marienbad takes place in one minute.” A shame he didn’t adhere to the 24 philosophy and let it play out in real time.

In the final analysis this is exactly the kind of truly irritating French film that they used to take the p!$$ out of so well in The Fast Show. Amazingly it was a box office hit and won the Golden Lion award at the 22nd Venice Film Festival, but if it were up to me I’d only award it a very loud raspberry.

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Best Worst Movies Ever: Showgirls (1995)

41J3F50F9RL_cropTitle:  Showgirls (1995)
Directed by:  Paul Verhoeven
Starring:  Elizabeth Berkley, Kyle MacLachlan, Gina Gershon, Glenn Plummer, Robert Davi, Alan Rachins
Buy here:  Amazon UK

It’s never a surprise when a bad director makes a bad movie, but it is when a really talented filmmaker serves up a prime, corn-fed turkey. Then the critics just can’t wait to get their knives out and carve off a slice. It happened to Steven Spielberg with 1941 and it happened to Paul Verhoeven with Showgirls.

We’ll probably get around to taking a few potshots at Spielberg’s bloated war comedy in a later post. Right now, let’s concentrate on the most hyped movie of 1995, Hollywood’s first attempt at mass-marketing a big budget sleazy soft-porn epic that would normally have been the exclusive entertainment of choice for the dirty raincoat crowd.

Dutch-born Verhoeven was of course responsible for a string of great movies such as RoboCop, Total Recall and Basic Instinct, the latter a massive box office hit combining bloody violence and strong sex scenes. So the powers-that-be shoved a big bundle of cash at Verhoeven and his Basic Instinct scribe Joe Eszterhas and told them to go and do it all over again, using some of the cash to buy Sharon Stone some spare panties  while they were at it.

still-of-elizabeth-berkley-in-showgirls-1995-large-picture_cropWhat they came up with was Showgirls, the trashy, absurd tale of how sexy young drifter Nomi (Elizabeth Berkley from TV’s Saved By The Bell) hitchhikes to Las Vegas determined to become a top showgirl. That’s right, her showbiz dream is to get her tits out night after night in only the best venues. The ones with central heating, one presumes.

But like central heating, fame costs, right? And after getting all her possessions pinched by an Elvis impersonator (who promptly leaves the building, the hound dog) she finds herself doing lapdances in a sleazy nightclub wearing not much more than false eyelashes to pay the rent. Her big break does come though, when she meets top hotel entertainment director Kyle MacLachlan, who greatly admires her twin peaks over a damn fine cup of coffee.

Before you know it she is clawing her way to the top of the slippery Vegas stripper ladder (by the simple expedient of pushing her main rival Gina Gershon down a flight of stairs). But she discovers that life as a showgirl is not as glamorous as they made it out to be on the movie’s poster.

1QlvE6K6dJ6JD7EHyxbQArdoQGR_cropBerkley is a hot babe, no doubt about that, and this writer certainly wouldn’t kick her out of his bed for eating biscuits. Her performance is simply horrible though, wooden as Long John Silver’s leg and not half as useful. Her witless character is a total jerk who annoyingly spends the entire movie either giggling girlishly or ranting like a mad harpy, as if she’s suffering from some kind of bipolar disorder.

The oddest thing about Showgirls is that it contains wall-to-wall nudity and sex scenes but is not at all a sexy movie, It’s quite the opposite in fact, and may put you off sex in the same way as the stuff they did to cure Malcolm McDowell of his violent tendencies in A Clockwork Orange.

As with any classic bad movie, Showgirls still has its fans, some high profile ones too, such as Quentin Tarantino. It even turned a profit on its bloated $45 million budget eventually, thanks to the wonders of the home video market. Personally I wish they’d adhered to the old saying about what happens in Vegas and let it stay there instead of bringing it to the big screen. You’ve got to give Paul Verhoeven credit for one thing though – when his film swept the board at the 16th annual RAZZIEs, he became the first filmmaker to ever show up in person to receive his Award for Worst Director.

Best Worst Movies Ever: G.B.H. Grievous Bodily Harm (1983)

GBH sleeve_cropG.B.H. Grievous Bodily Harm (1983)

Directed by:  David Kent-Watson

Starring:  Cliff Twemlow, Anthony Shaeffer, Jerry Harris, Brett Sinclair, Jane Cunliffe, Lenny Howarth, Steve Powell, John Barker, Ian Keith, Sharon Twemlow, Dee Christopholus, Dennis Edwards, Amanda Ellis, Patrick Nyland, John Reagan, Clara Bow, Kim Munroe, Wendy Powell

As all you dodgy geezers out there will know, GBH stands for Grievous Bodily Harm, the British legal term for what you get sent down for if you give somebody a serious enough pasting to leave them sucking hospital food through a straw. The makers of this seriously awful British crime thriller serve up plenty of punishment too, with another of those no-budget camcorder (if they had had camcorders back then!) classics that didn’t so much get released on video as escape on parole.

The opening scene sets the tawdry tone nicely. Things are hopping down at the Rainbow Club, a trendy 70s Manchester night spot that looks for all the world like the interior of a British Legion hut. While two or three John Travolta wannabes go through a Pan’s People dance routine, a bunch of heavies are beating the doorman to a pulp, giving him a swift kick in the goolies for good measure. Then one of the baddies lets loose a shotgun on the dance floor, causing the gormless dancers to shake in their platform shoes.

Behind this terrifying low-budget attack is Keller, a Jewish crime boss played by real-life stand-up comic Jerry Harris. Keller wants to take over the Manchester club scene, and now he’s putting the frighteners on Murray (Anthony Schaeffer), a plastic gangster who runs a low-tech night spot called The Zoo. But Murray has an ace up his sleeve in the beefy shape of Steve Donovan (Cliff Twemlow), a Mancunian hardcase who looks like he shaves with a blowtorch and eats broken glass for breakfast…

Donovan has just got out of prison after doing six months of porridge for GBH, a sentence he incurred sorting out Murray’s earlier problems. He’s not keen to get back into the same scenario, but is persuaded to help by his mate Chris (Brett Sinclair – hey, wasn’t he in The Persuaders?), who works as a barman for Murray. Before long the heavy mob arrive on the scene and bodies go flying in all directions as Donovan starts to earn his pay. Realising that there’s no way they can handle such a tough character on a simple ten against one basis, the nasties devise a cunning plan to catch him unawares and murder him. The final shootout leaves bodies everywhere – including Donovan’s!

As played in a somewhat awkward fashion by the deservedly unknown Cliff Twemlow, Steve Donovan is not much of a New Man. When a saucy blonde waitress suggests he might be getting too old for the job, he roughly shoves her into a toilet cubicle and shags her. Of course she loves it, well, all women do, don’t they?

Afterwards he confides to his buddy Chris that he doesn’t understand the female mind at all: “Bleeding women…” he laments. “No wonder there are so many queers.” He does, however, embark upon an affair with the remarkably unattractive Tracy (Jane Cunliffe), a girl who looks like she’s been doodled by a lunatic. Their slow-mo love scenes set to a Tony Christie-type ballad are more sickening than any of the violent bits, and frankly one can see more genuine mileage in Donovan’s almost homo-erotic relationship with Chris!

It’s Chris getting glassed in the face by a couple of thugs that is the catalyst for the film’s most violent sequence. When Donovan finds the guys who did it he literally makes mincemeat of them, sticking a broken bottle into one guy’s testicles and nailing the other’s hand to the bar with a jagged splinter of glass.

The movie’s slim storyline (by Twemlow himself, who also produced) doesn’t really stretch to the full running time, so director David Kent-Watson pads it out with a tour of Manchester night spots and endless upskirt shots of bored-looking dancers. The fights themselves are quite well staged, though, with the stunt men putting in far more professional performances than the actors. Only the exaggerated mini-explosions on the soundtrack that pass for punching noises detract from their realism.

Finishing with a ham-fisted, but blood-squib-filled shootout on the streets of Manchester and a fadeout borrowed from Butch Cassidy And The Sundance Kid, GBH is endearingly bad entertainment, like an episode of The Sweeney written and directed by a bunch of schoolkids. I wouldn’t dare slag it off completely, just in case Cliff Twemlow’s still out there and decides to come round and thump me!

Ten of the Worst Box Office Flops Ever

51I64Byt3jL_cropDanny Dyer’s recent movie Run For Your Wife only managed to muster a box office take of just over six hundred quid in its brief and very misguided theatrical run, but since it looked like it only cost about five hundred quid to make the producers probably weren’t suicidal. Danny wasn’t too worried either, since he was pulling pints in the Queen Vic by then.

There are some movies, however, which have so much dosh poured into making them that if they flop they can completely ruin the careers of their directors and stars, and even in some instances bankrupt the studio that backed them – as was the case with the bloated 1980 western epic Heaven’s Gate. United Artists rolled the dice on this one and they came up snake eyes.

Heaven’s Gate director, Michael Cimino, was on a roll after the success of The Deer Hunter, but he basically pissed on his chips (as they say in Tinsel Town, well Vinnie Jones does) overspending by $30 million and shooting 220 hours of footage to come up with what was called “an unqualified disaster” by respected New York Times critic Vincent Canby. Astute Vince also compared Heaven’s Gate to “a forced four-hour walking tour of one’s own living room.”

51yHeIaUDYL_cropIronically the movie was later praised by the likes of Martin Scorsese, but by that time UA was no more and a reconstructed Michael Cimino had salvaged what little was left of his reputation to team up with fellow plastic surgery fan Mickey Rourke on Year of the Dragon and The Desperate Hours. Kelly Lynch was one of the stars of the latter and recently revealed that Cimino wanted her to look like a drag queen in the film. “I didn’t know at the time that Michael was kind of … interested in dressing like a woman,’ she said. If only UA had known earlier that they were basically giving a shitload of cash to a modern day Ed Wood!

Another film that dragged a big studio to the wall and lined up the firing squad was Cutthroat Island (1995), which effectively put an end to Carolco, the company behind Rambo, The Terminator and Total Recall. Production problems spiralled the cost of this Geena Davis pirate epic to an estimated $115 million and Carolco got jolly rogered. It certainly put Hollywood off pirate pictures for a while, until Disney wisely signed up Johnny Depp for Pirates of the Caribbean.

Speaking of Disney, they have also made more than their share of megaflops in their time, which I suppose is appropriate for a Mickey Mouse outfit. John Carter (2012) wasn’t exactly a terrible movie, but it would have needed to make more than $600 million at the box office to repay its bloated budget. Only 63 movies have done this in the history of moviemaking, and John Carter wasn’t even in the race.

The failure of John Carter followed hot on the heels of Disney dropping even more filthy lucre on Mars Needs Moms (2011), an animated feature that proved the biggest box office failure in the company’s entire history. Walt’s accountants will probably now steer well clear of films with Mars in the title, but if I was them I‘d be asking how an animated film can cost $150 million to make and distribute in the first place!

81rrnkpeLHL_SL1500_cropThe strange thing is, nobody really knows when a movie is going to bomb at the boxoffice any more than they do when it is going to be a massive success. Look at the way Spielberg nearly got fired from Jaws, and even the stars of that one, Roy Scheider and Richard Dreyfuss, went to the preview screening thinking they were going to be witnessing a big budget disaster.

There’s also a famous story that when George Lucas showed his director mate Brian De Palma (Carrie) an early cut of Star Wars, De Palma told him it was bound to be a flop. Lucas became so convinced it would that he went on holiday to Hawaii with his good friend Steven Spielberg instead of attending the premiere.

The problem with blockbusters today is that it isn’t just the lolly that’s spent making them that disappears down the U-bend. You’ve got to add the many millions more spent on promoting them and all the tie-in tat flooding the market that nobody then wants to buy. Even George Lucas is not always on the money – remember Howard the Duck?

Nobody is surprised when a film that’s utter rubbish proves a loser at the box office, but sometimes even good movies can flop if they’re not marketed correctly. In many cases however these will recoup their losses on DVD, Blu-ray and digital download. A good case in point is 2012’s excellent and vastly underrated Dredd, which earned $41 million at the box office on a budget of $44 million, but earned so much money on home video that a sequel now seems likely.

Brad Pitt’s World War Z is another great example of a film that was expected to tank and duly did so, even though it wasn’t half as bad as we were all expecting. In the end, with home video sales factored in, it has gone on to earn a tasty $540 million against a production budget of $190 million, again prompting demands for a sequel.

What will be the biggest financial disaster of 2014? It’s a bit early to say, but Hollywood pundits are already predicting box office meltdown for the $150 million Jupiter Ascending, the new science fiction epic from the Wachowski Brothers, er I mean the Wachowski brother and sister.

Apart from the fact that their last movie, Cloud Atlas, ended up with red ink on the balance sheet, and their 2008 Speed Racer left skid marks in the underpants of Hollywood studio bosses, there are two further clues this might be a disaster… Firstly, the film was originally going to be released this July, and now it has been delayed until February of next year. Secondly, it stars Channing Tatum.

Similarly, great things are not predicted for the $125 million Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles movie, produced by Michael Bay and directed by the guy who gave us Wrath of the Titans (2012) and Battle: Los Angeles (2011). It stars Megan Fox, presumably because Meryl Streep wasn’t available. If this turns out to be a good movie, the pizzas are on me. As far as I can see it could very well figure prominently on the list below if we update it in 2015.

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1.  Heaven’s Gate (1980); estimated loss:  $120,953,664

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2.  Mars Needs Moms (2011); estimated loss:  $130,503,621

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3.  The Lone Ranger (2013); est. loss:  $95,926,537—121,237,25

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4.  Speed Racer (2008); est. loss:  $73,027,117

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5.  The 13th Warrior (1999); estimated loss:  $97,896,514—182,838,584

 

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6.  The Adventures of Pluto Nash (2002); estimated loss:  $96,448,014

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7.  Cutthroat Island (1995); estimated loss:  $88,741,339

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8.  R.I.P.D. (2013); estimated loss:  $90,837,890—114,837,890

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9.  John Carter (2012); estimated loss:  $108,610,950

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10.  47 Ronin (2014); estimated loss:  $149,518,762

The Room – Tommy Wiseau, Juliette Danielle, Greg Sestero

The Room (2003)
Directed by: Tommy Wiseau
Starring: Tommy Wiseau, Juliette Danielle, Greg Sestero, Philip Haldiman, Carolyn Minnott, Robyn Paris, Mike Holmes, Dan Janjigian, Kyle Vogt, Greg Ellery

The Room - Tommy Wiseau Laughing

Hahahaha! What a movie, Mark!

You know what you need? You need a drink.” – Lisa


Lisa is talking to Johnny, but he’s not the only one who needs a drink. You’ll need one too if you want to survive The Room, the brainchild of one Tommy Wiseau, a guy who, according to IMDB, trained to be an actor at the American Conservatory Theater, Vince Chase Workshop, Jean Shelton Acting Lab, Laney College, and the Stella Adler Academy of Acting. None of these organizations – not one – did him any bit of good. You may have heard about The Room – it’s infamous in the same manner as Birdemic: Shock and Terror, except that it’s horrible in a completely different way. Strange as it may seem, in some ways it’s worse than Birdemic because it’s more boring, and instead of bad CGI birds we get bad CGI people. But before we continue our dissection of The Room, I must warn you about Tommy Wiseau. He is incomprehensible and incorrigible. At least with Birdemic, I kinda understood where James Nguyen was coming from – the guy is an environmentalist type who wants to save the world from global warming. But Wiseau – I have no idea where Wiseau is coming from, and if you told me you understood him, I wouldn’t believe you for a second. With The Room, Wiseau doesn’t seem to have a purpose, other than to torment the audience. He doesn’t seem to have a grasp on drama, decent dialogue, believable characters, plot logic, human interaction, or reality. He is truly… an enigma.

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