Arnold Layne

I have seen several thousand films in my life, and many of them were terrible. It's not that I have trouble spotting a turkey beforehand, only that I tend to pursue them with glee. There have been only a handful of movies I've seen where the awfulness snuck up on me ( I'm looking at you, Godzilla and Armageddon). In my quest to lay witness to the worst movies ever made, I have certainly seen many that qualify. These include the Billy Ray Cyrus action pic Radical Jack (in which the audience must endure a scene where he pours water over himself and his mullet in slow motion), the Italian/Mexican/Spanish zombie movie City of the Walking Dead (where the end of the movie is just the first 15 minutes of the beginning repeated), the 80s horror movie The Invisible Maniac (his escape scene in particular), 1970s free love movie Feeling Up (in which a man climbs over top of the camera sans underwear), and of course, Ed Wood's Plan 9 From Outer Space, labeled by many as the worst movie ever made. Until yesterday, I would have agreed. But then I saw Wood's other infamous movie, Glen or Glenda. The mind reels.

I'm not even sure if I can adequately describe what I watched last night. It almost defies description. One could describe the movie as Wood's call for tolerance for transvestitism, something he found within himself. Yet that description doesn't describe probably 50% of the movie, as much of it seems to have nothing to do with anything.

The first six or seven minutes is just stock footage of traffic moving along a highway and people walking up and down city streets, intercut with, or superimposed over, shots of Bela Lugosi as "The Scientist," reciting lines such as "People...all going somewhere...all with their own thoughts...with their own ideas...with their own personalities." He also takes the time to mix a few beakers of liquid in his laboratory, and exclaims "The source of all life," as smoke rolls out of one. These things, however, seem normal in comparison to what unfolds later.

The actual "story" begins as police are called to the scene of a suicide of a transvestite. In an attempt to understand where this person was coming from, the police inspector visits a psychiatrist familiar with the condition. The inspector is supposed to be sympathetic to the victim, but at one point refers to them as "a four time loser." Anyway, the psychiatrist then tells the story of Glen, who also dresses like a woman and is called Glenda. Glen is played by none other than Wood himself, for whom the role was semi-autobiographical. His conundrum is whether or not to tell his fiance about his habits before the marriage or after.

It's at this point when the movie ceases to be comprehensible. The stock footage of traffic is repeatedly shown, along with Lugosi reciting lines such as "Pull the string! Pull the string!" all while superimposed over shots of stampeding buffalo. Then it gets really weird. What follows is easily the most bizarre stuff I've seen this side of a David Lynch movie. It's easier to just show you than to try and describe it.



To top it all off, the last 10 minutes or so is another story entirely, although still narrated by the psychiatrist. Wood still manages to include massive amounts of stock footage, only this time it's WWII instead of heavy traffic.

Plan 9 From Outer Space may still be the worst acted movie, and possibly the most unintentionally funny, but Glen or Glenda is far more convoluted and strange. If it were any other director, I might accept that these devices were intentional, an internal mechanism to echo Wood's own struggles with transvestitism. But this is Ed Wood, full of earnestness and desire to make great movies, yet lacking in almost any skill to actually create them. Yet what is great about his movies, besides the "so bad it's good" quality, is that his earnestness is so very palpable on the screen. If only we all had the courage to strive for greatness, even if we know we may never attain it.

Oh, and by the way, this has to be one of the creepiest things I've ever seen.


Transmission out.

Little Old Lady From Pasadena

So yesterday I rewatched another movie that I found amusing as a twelve-year-old boy, Moving Violations. Released in 1985, it was written and directed by the same man who did Police Academy. While this should tell you everything you need to know, I will nonetheless continue. The movie "stars" John Murray (Bill's younger brother), who does more mugging for the camera than a group of thugs working a corner bus stop. He, along with a group of other 1980s familiar faces, including Brian Backer (Mark Ratner from Fast Times), Wendie Jo Sperber (Michael J. Fox's sister in BTTF), and Nedra Volz, the housekeeper from Diff'rent Strokes (not Mrs. Garrett or the fat, manly one who looked at everyone like they were a piece of chocolate cake), all find themselves in traffic school for, you guessed it, moving violations. In said traffic school, they of course face off with a nasty police officer who has been demoted to this position in part because of the antics of Murray. Murray is supposed to be mischievious but funny, but instead he just comes across as a dick (think his brother Bill's turn as Bob, but without the psychosis). He is easily the least funny part in a movie that struggles enough for laughs. You know you're sailing in dangerous waters when the funniest part comes late in the movie, as Nedra Volz's character tells everyone they should "rip his nuts off," referring to their unscrupulous instructor. If you are having a hard time picturing her, here is a photo.
Clara Pellar, of "Where's the beef?" fame, has a cameo as Volz's friend or sister. Her main scene includes what is either an on-screen heart attack by Pellar or the world's most painful (and disturbing) orgasm. Not even Fred Willard can make this a good movie, his talents wasted by the fact his biggest laugh is supposed to come from hypochondriac Sperber mistaking him for a doctor when he is in fact a mechanic, and she winds up nude on a car lift in his garage.

Overlooked in this movie is the fact that most of these people really shouldn't be driving. Hell, Volz's character mistakes a dog for Pellar, her eyesight is so bad. To make it even more ludicrous, the postscript in the movie indicates that Murray's character had to attend traffic school 5 more times, and that in frustration, the city made him the instructor!! And now, nobody fails! I'd love to see the accident statistics in that city. Anyway, I feel that I have taken another bullet for the viewing public out there who may have been tempted to watch this movie. If I haven't persuaded you yet, maybe the actual trailer for the movie will.



PS - If I never have to see Sally Kellerman in a leather bondage outfit again, it will be too soon.

Transmission out.