I had to laugh because the argument I used to try and get my wife to watch this with me was that I anticipated it was one of those movies that you never really truly see the monster (she has next to zero tolerance for goofiness and monsters, but I lover her anyway). I believe that I was more excited than she was disappointed that this was an honest-to-goodness monster flick, like from the good-ole days.
If there is anything that can suck me into a movie fast is an opening credit sequence exploring a CGI castle that looks like it came out of an independent PC game from 1992, and doing so with cuts that look like they were mistakes. And when I thought that bliss was over, I found out that this shoddy CGI castle was the setting for the wrap-around for this anthology. It only got shoddier from there. Debbie Rochon is the…
It's a type of film that I have subconsciously always wanted to see, but didn't know it until I had finally watched it. It exudes the incomparable pathos of 60's Avant Garde, a la Kenneth Anger, Derek Jarman and Jack Smith (which is a movement Clementi has every right to belong to but is sadly often left unmentioned imho). The main difference is that instead of dealing with neo-pagan free-thinkers, it's dealing with the 80's underground club-junkies and it is…
The term 'so bad it's good' gets thrown around a lot in places I don't really think they should be, but this is one movie I can't imagine a better term. The ideas and writing all look like they came from a night of heavy drinking at the production studio.
Movies like this tread a really delicate balance, because it can make a movie excruciating but if the stars are aligned just right, it morphs into something uncommonly lovable, and that's what happened with The Mighty Peking Man.