And You Were Worried They Couldn’t Come Up With a Dumber Idea Than Battleship

Tetris: The Movie

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  1. Harvey, with all due respect…

    Still, it’s not as bad as Cujo.

    Can’t possibly be as bad as Cujo.

    Cujo is the only movie I ever got up and walked out of the theater for reason of boredom.

    I rarely beat my older brother in “Battleship.” I mean…the real “Battleship” with the plastic ships, pegs, etc.

    And…I was pretty dang good at Tetris back in the day. Seems that I wasted a decade, or two, perfecting my skilz on that waste of time.

    But…Cujo…still the worst movie in the history of films. Even worse than “A Summer Place.”

    Just sayin’…


  2. The Worst Movie Ever: Prospero’s Books. A rancid, foul, disgusting “adaptation” of Shakespeare’s The Tempest. ~80-year-old Gielgud naked throughout is the least offensive thing in the film.


  3. Worst movie ever: Gus Van Sant’s (a good director who should have known better) shot-for-shot carbon copy of PSYCHO. Roger Ebert, a critic with whom I do not always agree but for whom I usually have a certain respect, lays the claim here that Van Sant made a film inferior to Hitchcock’s original with a more talented cast than Hitch had at his disposal.

    I give Ebert half credit on this one: Van Sant’s movie is a dreadful bomb. However I hesitate to call the 1998 cast more talented than the 1960 one. The two best actors in this mess are William H Macy and Julianne Moore, as insurance investigator Milton Arbogast and Marion Crane’s sister Lila, respectively. Macy here steps into the shoes of the great Martin Balsam, and he delivers a performance worthy of the original, but it’s hard to call it “better” when so much of the rest of the film is so bad. The same thing goes for Moore, a great actress who delivered a harrowing performance as a porn star in BOOGIE NIGHTS. Her Lila Crane really can’t be compared to the Lila Crane of 1960; for one thing, the great but underrated Vera Miles played her with a great deal of subtlety; Moore is all sparks and jangling nerves. Both interpretations may be considered valid, but I am not sure comparing them is fair. Also, Van Sant decided to make Lila a Lesbian in this one, for no good reason other than to do something different (but they don’t actually DO anything with it).

    The rest of the cast is just awful. Viggo Mortensen is not only miscast as Sam Loomis, he has ZERO chemistry with Anne Heche, who despite spending half of the opening sequence in a bra and panties comes across as oddly sexless. Mortensen naked from the waist down at the end of the scene doesn’t improve matters. The contrast with the original, with Janet Leigh at her sexiest and John Gavin, as an actor only serviceable but as a hunk, perfect, makes one ask “WHY did Van Sant even BOTHER?”

    Which brings us to Norman Bates. I don’t think there is a more thankless role out there than this haunted, disturbed boy/man, a role that should have won Anthony Perkins an Oscar and which would haunt him, literally and figuratively, for the rest of his life. But surely Van Sant could have done better than the husky Vince Vaughn, who is not only physically wrong for the role but when he tries to play strange he comes across as dense.

    Also this is not


  4. Also this is NOT quite the carbon copy one might expect: if ever a film demonstrated that some stories are just MEANT to be told in black-and-white, it is this one, and in the scene where Norman peeps through the hole in the wall at Marion in the shower, it is quite obvious that he is masturbating. Now I saw this movie in my apartment, alone, but I am sure that in a crowded theatre that scene drew laughs.

    Van Sant has since managed to redeem himself with MILK, but this mess will surely go down in film history as one of the worst movies ever, if only because it makes the viewer shriek inwardly “WHY????”



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