THE CREAM OF THE CRAP: 20 FILMS THAT ARE SO BAD THEY’RE EDUCATIONAL
November 26th, 2007 by Scott Marks
In order of reverence:
1. HOT RODS TO HELL
Drunken invalid (pronounced “een-valid”) Dana Andrews drives his family through the dessert en route to the motel of their dreams located in the middle of nowhere. A group of clean cut hooligans, with a thing for Dana’s daughter, proceed to terrorize the family for kicks. From the slurred line readings, well-intentioned morality pleas, blinding day-for-night cinematography and the Mickey Rooney, Jr. Trio, this houses almost as many laughs as Duck Soup. Originally intended for TV, M-G-M’s lion shat this into theaters. The “restored” DVD copy is longer than the version we grew up on with more dialogue and different music cues.
2. THE OSCAR / Russell Rouse (1967)
You get the feeling that all involved thought they were participating in a searing indictment of Hollywood, USA. A non-stop laff riot due in large part to the one and only big-screen performance by potato head Tony Bennett. He seems spooked each time the camera moves and his stiff line-readings will break your rewind button. Stephen Boyd plays sh*theel Frankie Fayne, a man seated atop that glass mountain called success, who will let nothing stand in the way of Oscar® gold. The screenplay by Harlan Ellison is, quite literally, perfectly awful. What can be said of a film in which Milton Berle gives the most credible performance?
3. THE BABE RUTH STORY / Roy Del Ruth (1948)
There was was a man named Babe Ruth who played baseball. The truth stops there in this sickeningly maudlin portrait of a Christ-like boob who hits a ball with a stick and cures crippled kids simply by saying “Hiya!” Bill Bendix plays the sultan of syphilis from a ridiculous teen makeover for the flashbacks to his demise by cinematic crucifixion. The Bambino’s reverential death scene makes DeMille’s King of Kings look sacrilegious by comparison. This also contains some of the worst child acting ever committed to film. With all of the crappy baseball films that are out on home video, why hasn’t The Babe found it’s righful home in a plastic snapcase?
4. PLAN 9 FROM OUTER SPACE
The cardboard sets and flying percolator lids that attack Hollywood are more convincing than any of the acting. Morphine-soaked Bela Lugosi’s last role was cut short by death causing Wood to “double” him with his much younger chiropractor. Tor Johnson makes Antonio Banderas sound like Rod Serling and Bunny Breckinridge checking out his fellow actors’ crotches is sublime.
5. GLEN OR GLENDA
Another Wood-en gem. A strung out Bela Lugosi narrates this shocking tale of transvestism. Wood plays the title roles in this seering expose of women trapped in men’s bodies.
6. JOHNNY COOL
Henry Silva’s Hamlet! Silva had one of the toughest mugs in movies, but as soon as he spoke the fear quickly (and hilariously) dissipated. He’s a pussy compared to Marc Lawrence, the real Johnny Colini, who transforms his student into a killing machine. Loads of star cameos, including Joey Bishop, Jim Backus and Telly Savalas, make this highly watchable.
7. DRUM
Mandingo lit the fuse and Drum was the explosion. As much as I’ll defend the brilliance of Richard Fleischer’s original tale of slave trading, the sequel will leave you slack jawed in disbelief. John Colicos gives the affected performance of his career as a gay slave trader who’s eventually “nutted” by Ken Norton. Overflowing with gratuitous nudity, senseless violence and reel after reel of politically incorrect dialogue.
8. ROBOT MONSTER
Originally shot in 3-D, this film is void of both depth and dimension. A guy dressed in a gorilla suit topped off by a deep sea diving helmet terrorizes a family in the dessert. The entire film is shot outdoors, because unlike The Naked Spur, the producers couldn’t afford to build sets. Fortunately, there was enough money in the budget to afford a bubble machine. Stunning in its simplicity!
9. MEN OF BOY’S TOWN
After the success of the stomach-churning Boys Town M-G-M once again unleashed auturd Norman Taurog for an even sappier sequel. In light of the recent Church sex allegations, I dare you to keep a straight face when Father Spencer Tracy comforts a boy in his sickbed by cooing, “Did anyone ever tell you that you have beautiful eyes.” Want to learn how to wring yet another tear from the audience? When all else fails, toss a pooch under the back wheels of a truck. This is the type of film that gives maudlin a good name.
10. THE CONQUEROR
John Wayne as Genghis Khan in CinemaScope and Stereophonic Sound! Stop me if you’ve heard this one. “My mother! You did not suckle me to die by the hands of a Tar-tar!” Only The Oscar has riper dialogue. The exterior scenes were shot near nuclear testing grounds and the set was practically phosphorescent. Over the next twenty years, the entire cast and crew were wiped out due to the fallout. Equally surprising is that their careers survived past opening night.
11. THE HORROR OF PARTY BEACH
A bunch of radioactive sea creatures attack a swinging beach party. The best of the grade ‘Z’ schlock horror films with latex monsters. Infinitely more entertaining and much less cinematic than any of the Frankie & Annette pairings.
12. SHACK OUT ON 101
Major slice of white bread Frank Lovejoy cracks a ring of commies located in a seaside hash house. 90% of the action takes place on one set, and you haven’t lived till you’ve seen the homoerotic scene in which Lee Marvin and Keenan Wynn go scuba diving in the diner.
13. SUSAN SLADE / Delmer Daves (1961)
Bubble-less soaper with cute Connie Stevens as damaged goods. After Bert Convy dies in a skiing accident, leaving Connie with a bellyful of sperm, it’s up to grandma Dorothy Maguire to raise the baby as her own. Lloyd Nolan’s death scene and an incendiary doll substituting for a kid playing with matches, are two of the films many lowlights. Prime Douglas Sirk material with none of The Master’s sense style of irony.
14. HITLER: DEAD OR ALIVE
Four American chowderheads travel to Berlin to kick the stuffing out of the head Natzy rat. Shameless propaganda made towards the beginning of the war when the goose-steppers were still being portrayed as oafs and buffoons. Everyone, including Schicklegruber, dies in the hopelessly hokey outcome. Ward Bond’s pleas for the “Kiiiiiiiiids” is a safe distance from John Ford.
15. THE KILLER SHREWS
Greyhound dogs sporting shag carpeting scare son-of-the-pioneers Ken Curtis and Baruch Lumet, noted acting coach and father of Sidney. Lumet obviously didn’t pay attention to his teachings. Listening to his Yiddish tongue fracture the English language is a hoot.
16. DEATH WISH III
Paul Kersey/Kimball is on the loose again in this brain-dead, vigilante-by-the-numbers action film. Ancient Charles Bronson can barely lift his leg let alone a gun. As always, any woman stupid enough to go out with him also has a date with death. Lee Strassberg could have learned from Chuck’s love scenes, particularly the astonishing “I like chicken…Chicken is good” exchange.
17. BIG JIM McLAIN
Who wins when John Wayne does battle with The Reds? Why the audience, of course!
18. PLATINUM HIGH SCHOOL
Pint-sized Mickey Rooney takes on the role of a tough guy investigating the mysterious death of his son at a military academy. The Mick could be a very capable actor, something this movie fails to demonstrate.
19. TARZAN’S NEW YORK ADVENTURE
After M-G-M ran out of jungle subplots they shifted the action to the Big Apple. Johnny Weismuller wearing a suit and scaling buildings is only the beginning. The phone conversation between Mantan Moreland and Cheetah, whom he confuses for a fellow black man, will have you pulling your hair out.
20. THE TERROR OF TINY TOWN
You probably won’t get through more than the first fifteen minutes, but for a quarter-of-an-hour you’ll find more laughs than all of Kevin Smith’s films combined. Watching little people ride Shetland ponies and walk under barroom doors is genius, but the glut of foul musical numbers will kill you.
Tags: Bad Movies, Hitler: Dead or Alive, HOT RODS TO HELLHITLER, DEAD OR ALIVE / Nick Grinde (1942)
March 23rd, 2005 by Scott Marks
HITLER, DEAD OR ALIVE (1942)
Director: Nick Grinde
Screenplay: Karl Brown & Sam Neuman from a story by Sam Neuman
Cast: Ward Bond, Paul Fix, Bruce Edwards, Warren Hymer, Dorothy Tree, Frederick Giermann, Felix Basch and Bobby Watson as “Hitler”
Aspect Ratio: 1.33:1
Unintentional Laughs Rating: 
If you worked in Hollywood during the war years, chances are you encountered a Nazi or two. Bogart, Joan Crawford, Robert Young, Daffy Duck, The Three Stooges, even Sherlock Holmes, all did battle with the Krauts. Prior to the public revelation of the true depths of Hitler’s atrocities, Hollywood produced propaganda films that portrayed Nazi’s as stock buffoons. None is funnier or more ill conceived than this grade ‘Z’ programmer.
In 1941, Fritz Lang’s masterwork “Man Hunt” told the story of a British hunter vacationing in Bavaria who drew a bead on Hitler. While contemplating the moral implications of pulling the trigger, he is discovered and a fantastic tale of guilt and paranoia begins to unfold. This idea of hunter-meets-Hitler was probably the impetus for this project. If nothing else, it gave veteran character actor Ward Bond a rare shot at a starring vehicle.
A pair of Central Casting reporters from the National News Service dissatisfied with a prepared statement, track down Dr. Samuel Thornton (Russell Hicks) to ascertain why a man offered a $1 million reward for Hitler, dead or alive. Even though Thornton left strict instructions not to be disturbed, the mere mention of all-American Johnny Stevens’ name to his secretary (plus the fact that we have a flashback to get into), gain the ‘journalists’ instance access.
Thornton recounts the story of Steve, Joe and Dutch (Ward Bond, Paul Fix and Warren Hymer), three chowder-headed hoods/income tax evaders fresh from a 12-year stretch in the joint, and eager to split a million bucks. Joe is the brains of the group, such as they are, Steve the brawn (”Look, toots. Tell Thornton he can play with his toys later. We wanna’ see him now”) and Dutch the (barely) comic relief. Thornton’s brother was killed by the Gestapo and the bounty is his way of getting revenge on, “the little guy with the trick moustache.” You see, Hitler is a mobster and can be had like all the other crooks. All’s it’ll take is three smart saps familiar with all the angles.
Even in light of the trio’s proven record of failure, the sales pitch wins Thornton over and he calls his mouthpiece to draw up contracts in order to, “close up that Hitler deal.” Don’t worry about the language barrier. Steve used to run a beer racket in Milwaukee, and speaks fluent Meister Brau. Sadly, his attempt to gain a little extra pocket change by offering to make it a Hitler/Mussolini double-header is shot down with a dissolve.
Here’s the plan - by train they “somehow managed” (even the unexpected narrator is unsure) to make it to a recruiting station in Canada and join the RAF. Traveling by convoy (and stock footage) across the North Atlantic, they land “somewhere in England” and become paratroopers. Steve strong-arms everybody off the plane and forces pilot Johnny Stevens (Bruce Edwards) to fly them to Nazi Germany. All of the professional actors were either off fighting or too expensive. Edwards looks the role, but can’t read dialogue.
With a Gerry hot on their tail, Superman Steve grabs a Tommy gun, flings open the plane’s door and commences firing. A little “rat-a-tat-tat” sound fx, some more stock footage and voila, another dead Heinie. Do not question the improbability of one man standing in the open door of an aircraft and successfully shooting down another plane. Nothing can stop these American Propagandeers on their patriotic, albeit capitalistically motivated, mission.
No sooner does Steve crack a smile over taking out a Nazi rat than their plane runs out of fuel forcing a landing 200 miles west of Berlin. Apparently a day-for-night filter was not written into the budget. Even though it appears to be high noon, a flashlight is still necessary to consult the map. Steve pulls over a truck that, as luck and precise comic coincidence would have it, is loaded with beer. In their poorly lit and executed mock truck cab, the boys crack open some brewskis, break into a chorus of “Ach Du Lieber Halstead Street” and drive in the direction of Herr Schickelgruber.
Morning finds the enemy in hot pursuit. Those Nutzys were smart enough to create a master race and exterminate millions, but they are still no match against our four knuckleheaded heroes. Not only does Steve talk the head monkey out of gas and grub, he also coaxes a personal escort. Sealing the deal with a couple of “Heil Hitler’s,” the boys are taken directly to Dachau.
Feigning allegiance to the Nazi flag, the boys face interrogation under the monocled eye of Klink prototype Colonel Hecht (Felix Basch). “You vill be treated as ve vish!” Leave it to that wacky Dutch to lighten the load. When asked what base he left from, he blithely replies, “Alcatraz,” a fact the Colonel immediately makes note of. After being placed in protective custody until a meeting with Hitler can be arranged, the smarty pants quickly finds the bugging device and uses it to call room service.
Hecht confesses his jealousy of the Americans to shapely Countess Greta (Fee ‘Faye’ Wall). Knowing that these men are exactly the type the Fuhrer would employ for a desperate mission, he cringes at the thought of their bringing Hitler a message that may spell victory. Thank goodness Greta is a right-thinking Nazi-ess who places her love of country over that of a bald, stock Nazi buffoon. Greta will give in to one kiss, but when it comes to seconds, Hecht is shown both an outstretched arm and the door. As soon as he’s out of the picture, Greta’s necktie-wearing bulldyke lover comes out of hiding. Before turning to execute her orders, the inexperienced actress shoots a “did I go all right” glance off-camera.
Back in the airy, sun-drenched cell the boys gripe about the crappy prison food. A playing card found in the gruel raises no questions of hygiene (or espionage) and Johnny tosses it to the floor. Possibly the sudden return to prison causes Bond to go all prissy and complain about attracting ants. Only after the card is returned to the table and is passed through three sets of hands do these cretins notice a message printed on it. How these guys found the right foot to put in their left shoe, let alone tracking Hitler, is a better question. Using the mush to muffle the microphone the boys, probably too illiterate to make it through a sentence, phonetically sound out the two-word message which is signed simply, “Rosebud.” It’s bad enough that I cited one cinematic deity as an influence on this slop. To evoke the ‘K’ word would be unclean.
Overpowering the umbday uardgays, all but low man out Johnny get to don Nazi uniforms. What better way to foreshadow an upcoming shift in tone than by killing off your comic relief? While making their escape, Dutch falls from a moving car as the Nazis air condition it with bullets. As fate, along with budgetary and creative limitations, would have it, Rosebud Greta is the one passenger left on board. She convinces them to lay low until a daytime hiding place can be arranged. “What a dame! More dangerous than a pocketful of loose razor blades.”
Another sun-drenched night falls giving Steve and Johnny a chance to mourn the passing of poor old Dutch. “A man can’t ask of a better way to die than protecting his friends.” I don’t know. Old age springs to mind.
Suddenly we hear the first seven notes of “Yankee Doodle,” ‘the only tune no Nazi would ever whistle.” It’s Greta’s emissary Meyer (Frederick Giermann) sent to find them. Still believing that they were sent to deliver a message to Hitler, she must make her hatred of Nazism explicit. Steve reveals his plan: After any big shot is assassinated, it generally takes 10 to 15 minutes for witnesses to return to their senses. Knowing that he can capitalize on this time, Steve just needs to get close enough to whisper in Hitler’s ear.
Following a good night’s sleep and a shave in a foreboding cracked-mirror, Steve and his confreres chow down. As Meyer waits on them he tells his story of saving Hitler’s life twenty years earlier. After giving a speech, some angry students beat der future Fuhrer with broken beer steins that left a permanent scar on his upper lip. Young doctor Meyer nursed Adolf back to health, but his gratitude turned to hatred over the disfigurement. It was Meyer’s botched handiwork that forced Hitler to grow his trademarked electrical-tape moustache.
Hecht and a bunch of goons appear and it’s about now that the laughs become fast and delirious. Steve overhears talk of slaughtering the innocent. Ward Bond’s pathos-laden delivery of “Women, and…Keeeds!” cannot be described in print. It must be experienced to be believed. The way he punches, “Kids!” is a scream. An enraged close-up follows. “Just let me get my hands on that Hitler. Just once!” Why you, I oughta… Ward Bond, phenomenal in character roles, could not carry a serious feature himself. Appropriately named director Grinde is not the skilled sentimentalist that John Ford is. Ward going all soft and sloppy simply doesn’t have the range and the nitrous-perfume of tough guy turned maudlin ham intoxicates the viewer.
The Storm troopers are issued their orders. “Search everywhere! Miss nothing! Be quick about it!” Showing off in front of the dame, Hecht is pleased to report that the house passes inspection. He arranges for Greta to dance with Hitler at a “coffee and” at Dolf’s country home later that evening. We soon discover that not unlike the Munster’s pet Spot, the boys are kept beneath a trap door staircase. Figuring the only way into the gala is via disguise, they waylay Greta’s musicians and, with the help of the studio’s makeup department and some monkey suits, masquerade as a quartet. (Johnny’s sideburns are particularly convincing.)
At last the time arrives for the appearance of our title character. Playing Germany’s #1 Nazi is Bobby Watson, Hollywood’s #1 Hitler. Between 1942 and 1962 Watson was cast a record eleven times in the role of Best Fascist Dictator. And please, never confuse him with Bobs Watson, the nauseating tyke who gets dragged through the streets of Dodge City in order to bolster Errol Flynn’s motivation.
Hitler enters to music better fitting a Walter Lantz cartoon. As the Leader of free, Aryan Germany, Watson is all about exchanging “d’s” for “th” (dem, dis), replacing “w’s” for “v’s” (”Vee vill conquer de vorld!”) and siphonous “sh’s.” His dialogue is the stuff newspaper headlines are made of. When Steve is finally able to get his mitts on Adolf, Watson’s cries of “Stop shootin’! Stop shootin’” sound more like a plea from a Hoboken junkie. One slip up and Hitler will “be turned into dog meat. And not very good dog meat at that.” Watching Watson squirm as Bond’s captive could comprise the film’s funniest moment.
Joe is killed and Johnny and Greta make it to the plane leaving Dutch and Steve to look after Hitler. The duo manages to bring “old drizzle-puss” back to their hideout. A quick shave proves Hitler no imposter. Steve even goes so far as to snip that famous tussled lock rendering Dolf all but unrecognizable. Proving that it’s never too late for a touch of expressionism, no matter how cheezy, Hitler’s death at Hecht’s hand appears visually out of synch with everything that came before. Hitler runs into a frame containing two black-barred windows and a curbside horizon line. Splattered across the wall are reflective shadows of dancing flames.
Here’s the hilarious, heart-tugging kicker. We hear infants crying, yet only adolescents are marched into a frame similar to the abovementioned one. Cut to a horse-choking close-up of a stunned Bond and brace yourself for another, deeply felt, unbearably maudlin, “KEEEEEDS!!!” Ward is given his last bit of speech-making and only a bullet can finally shut him the f@*k up. Even so he manages to finish his last line of precious dialogue before finally collapsing. I’d hate to have to clean up the shell casings left over from the dialogue bombs these actors were paid to proudly propel.
Dr. Thornton’s closing summation of the events proves he knew what a dispensable, jar-headed dupa Steve was. “So Steve died, voicing in his own crude way the conviction of millions.” In his final, Oscar-deserving close-up, the good doctor admits that killing one individual could never end war. He also manages to turn the guilt on an audience compelled by what they just witnessed to get out there and support the war effort.
No mention is made of what became of Johnny and Greta. They were Natzy rats in need of being dealt with and in the end, their destinies were slighted in favor of gung-ho producer Ben Judell’s propagandistic message I have been in love with this film since first I saw it on USA’s “Night Flight.” My VHS copy has more creases than Shelly Winters’ ass, and I was delighted to find it on DVD, even in its current fuzzy condition. Until Criterion stops putting out all those sub-titled, hand-held picture shows and turns their attention to poverty row pulp, we’ll have to make due with Alpha Video’s badly telecined, ninth-generation bathtub dupe.
Tags: Film, Hitler, Hitler: Dead or Alive, Movie, Movie Review, Propaganda, Review, Unintentionally Funny, Ward Bond
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