Southland Tales

Last night I watched "Southland Tales." On purpose and everything.

I'd never seen the movie before, but I'd heard about it. One of the worst films ever made, a catastrophic failure, an incomprehensible mess.

And yes. All those things are true. It's categorically one of the worst films I've ever seen. The casting is wrong in every way (with the possible exception of Mandy Moore who eats up her one scene). The performances are worse than sketch night at summer camp. There's a plot, and at its center lies a kernel of interestingness, but all the stuff that might've been worth watching happens off-screen, before the actual movie begins. The stuff you actually see is all tangential. It is possible to piece together a plot in your head — which I guess casts doubt on the "incomprehensible mess" part — but honestly, it's really not worth the trouble.

But you know what? I can't help but admire the movie for how overtly weird it is. It head-fakes in the direction of surrealism, only failing to connect because the production designer was apparently in a coma for the entire ordeal. If it'd been a French film with Jean Giraud doing the look, we'd be having an entirely different conversation right now. As it is, the whole film looks just depressingly cheap. Which like the casting might've been a choice on Kelly's part, but if so it was a bad choice.

I guess I found the movie endearing. It's like an enthusiastic and precocious child. It's completely incompetent, but by god, it tries so hard. And I guess in an era where big, loud and stupid are the watchwords, there's something pathetically charming about a movie that overreaches, even if the result is a steaming pile.

And make no mistake. This movie sucks out loud. It's awful. But I think it's still worth seeing. Once.