Augusta, my movie-buff friend, suggested that I put together a list of shameful pleasures: movies that we love to mock.
I'm all about that kind of thing.
But first, some ground rules. These movies are terrible: agreed. But they are also watchable, and earnest, and funny, and absorbing. They keep you riveted, right up to their ridiculous conclusions.
Hey: sometimes there's a joy in ridiculousness. These movies are the ugly puppies in the litter. And who doesn't feel a tug at his heart when he looks at the sweet little ugly puppy?
I won't call them “bad movies,” because bad movies are just – forgettable. These are unforgettable.
I'll lead with Augusta's two suggestions, both of which are perfect.
First: “White Christmas.” Based on an earlier, better film called “Holiday Inn,” which is entertaining and brisk in every way. “White Christmas” is just ponderous. It's Bing Crosby, and Danny Kaye, and Rosemary Clooney, and Vera-Ellen, in an overloaded plot about show business and a failing Vermont inn and a retired general . . . Oh, please. But it has some of the silliest and most wonderful musical numbers, like Danny Kaye's “Choreography,” and “Sisters.” And one of the most trivial songs Bing ever crooned: “What Can You Do With a General?” Also, one of the most overhyped (although I sort of teared up when I was watching this clip): the title number. This movie makes me shiver with pleasure and agony. And I never miss it when it's on TV.
And second: “Valley of the Dolls.” Where do I begin? There's the plaintive Burt Bacharach theme song, and the images of lovely (or, by some accounts, drugged-out) Barbara Parkins watching the rural scenery flow by as she rides the train. Then, of course, there's Patty Duke tearing off Susan Hayward's wig and throwing it down the toilet. Five stars!
Here are three of my nominees for the list:
“Zardoz.” Oh dear. Sean Connery as a barbarian in a post-apocalyptic world, who gets lured into the paradisical wonderland next door, and ends up shooting the place up. There's a scene in which he breaks a mind-reading machine with sheer sex appeal. Also, my god, there's a big floating stone head that throws rifles to people! Also: you get to hear the slow movement of Beethoven's Seventh Symphony over and over again. And Sean ends up, inexplicably, with Charlotte Rampling. My favorite scene: Connery is looking around a garden, with a computer explaining things to him. He sees a flower. “What is it?” Sean growls. “Flo-wer,” the computer warbles. “Purpose?” Sean asks irritably. “De-co-ra-tive,” the computer says.
I'm de-co-ra-tive too.
And how about “Elephant Walk”? Elizabeth Taylor gets married to Peter Finch and goes to Ceylon. They live in a big house that blocks the elephant migration route. (Did you know that elephants migrate? I didn't.) Peter is stupid and spoiled, and he and his friends drink too much and ride bicycles around the house. Elizabeth is bored and upset, and then she gets a gander at handsome plantation manager Dana Andrews, and – well, what would you do? And, at the end of the day, the elephants destroy the house. Perfect from beginning to end.
And finally (for now, at least):
“Cleopatra,” 1963, with Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton and Rex Harrison. (Liz must be doing the Watusi in heaven: I gave her two mentions in this blog! If I'd gone on, I would certainly have mentioned “Suddenly, Last Summer,” or "Boom!" - but another time . . . ). This movie is grandiose, and endless. The décor and costumes are heart-stopping, as is the over-the-top acting by all concerned, all of whom should have known better. A few months ago I was sitting in the living room, my eyes like saucers, watching Elizabeth ripping down the bedcurtains and shrieking, when Partner came through for a glass of water. He glanced at the screen briefly. “Oh, yeah, 'Cleopatra,'” he said casually. “I remember this scene.”
There are many, many more movies like these.
You just wait. We will discuss many more of them.
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