I'll be the first to admit that I have been known to enjoy truly terrible movies. The Pirate Movie,yes, the one with Kristy McNichol and Christopher Atkins (that, hooray, also appears to be coming out on DVD next summer), is a personal fave. Still, a girl's got to have standards. Some bad movies are just too bad to be good, like the stunningly awful Greystoke, the Legend of Tarzan, which is still the only movie I've ever walked out in the middle of and is the one that triggered my longstanding hatred of Andie MacDowell.
But I may have found Greystoke's twin in sheer badness this afternoon. I had flipped on the TV just to have some random noise while grading papers. Hearts of Fire was on Trio and I couldn't turn my eyes away from the sheer, mind-blowing badness of this Rupert Everett and Bob Dylan (!) rock fairy tale. Granted, it was penned by the cratacular Joe Eszterhaz but you'd think someone could have made it work even slightly better -- or, at least, taught Everett, who plays an '80s pop star, how to dance. Yes, it is that bad.