For Your Consideration: Mr. Edward D. Wood, Jr.

Ed Wood. The name is infamous. It is synonymous with crap movies. It is also the title of Tim Burton’s best film.

Ed Wood gained posthumous notoriety for being the world’s worst movie director of all time. While I’m inclined to think that he was strikingly inept at his trade, I cannot quite give him that illustrious title. He was not the worst director of all time. He stunk, but there have been stinkier. Coleman Francis for instance. I feel unfair even saying that he stunk as I actually genuinely enjoy some of his movies.

Action!

His films were bizarre yet personal and plagued by financial setbacks. Films Glen or Glenda (1953), Bride of the Monster (1955), and Plan 9 From Outer Space (1959) may be his most famous and I confess that at some level I do admire these schlock-fests. Tim Burton’s masterpiece, Ed Wood (1994) chronicled some of the life of the notorious filmmaker and the making of these three films in particular. Johnny Depp (Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas) plays Wood and Martin Landau (Crimes and Misdemeanors) got the Oscar for his magnificent portrayal of an aging, morphine addicted Bela Lugosi. Burton’s movie also features folks like Sarah Jessica Parker (Sex and the City), Patricia Arquette (Medium), Jeffrey Jones (Ferris Bueller’s Day Off), and Bill Murray (Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou). Burton’s Ed Wood is a quirky yet affectionate comic portrait of a misguided man struggling in Hollywood and all the baffling trials of putting a movie together, albeit bad ones. Shot in sumptuous black and white by Stefan Czapsky (Batman Returns) and cleverly scored by Howard Shore (The Return of the King) and sporting snazzy production design it is almost ironic that the film is so fantastic and talent-filled.

Bad movies fascinate me because most bad movies are forgettable. It takes talent to make a memorably bad movie. There has to be a perfect balance of delusion and ineptitude to get it to work right. I applaud the Mystery Science Theater 3000 guys for keeping bad movies that would have otherwise been forgotten around just a little longer. Ed Wood immortalizes Ed Wood in a way that might have never happened. Glenda, Bride, and Plan 9 are also fun to watch by themselves. But knowing your Ed history (as a floundering cross-dressing film hack) helps make them more interesting.

Are you quite comfortable?

Of his three most famous, Bride of the Monster might be the least interesting, perhaps because it is the most familiar. Mad scientist + monster guy + girl = standard sci fi horror derivative mayhem. A half-dead and quite feeble looking Bela Lugosi (Dracula, Island of Lost Souls) plays Dr. Vornoff (mad scientist) and wrestler Tor Johnson is the manbeast, Lobo. Will Vornoff succeed in creating a race of atomic supermen? Yawn. Not original enough. Still, it’s not bad for a movie that’s awful. It has its points, but Plan 9 from Outer Space is just so much loopier that it blows it out of the water.

Plan 9 from Outer Space is the story of aliens trying to resurrect the dead to scare humanity into not making the Solaranite bomb—a bomb that humanity has never even heard of. Take everything that was good and accessible about The Day the Earth Stood Still (1951) and make it ridiculous and you got yourself a movie. Awful special effects, obtrusive continuity errors, and hammy bad acting compliment the convoluted plot and unwieldy dialogue. It famously features the last footage the great Lugosi ever shot (about 2 minutes maybe) and was stitched into this film after he died. A double played him for the rest of the movie. Tor Johnson is also in it as well as TV’s Vampira. It’s silly and memorable. Basically great fun and you will laugh.

Joan Rivers on bath salts!

As wonderful as Plan 9 is, out of these famous three my favorite has got to be Glen or Glenda. It was only Wood’s first feature and it’s got it all. Science fiction, mystery, Satan with moth antennae, flashbacks, Bela Lugosi, buffalo, wildly inaccurate science, transvestism, sex changes, S&M…bondage…uh, suicide…okay so having it all might not necessarily be a good thing.

Wood wrote, directed, and starred in this nigh incomprehensible mess of mismatched ideas. I like it because not only is it horrendously done, it actually resembles something special: a movie with a personal—albeit somewhat deranged—touch from Mr. Wood himself. As a real life transvestite he brings us unnervingly close to the subject matter. He also conjectures that hats are the cause of baldness. Lugosi may be our Virgil-like guide on this weird trek but Mr. Wood provides us with a few other narrators trying to explain multiple storylines to different audiences just for good measure (but it’s nothing like The Saragossa Manuscript). The way it’s edited actually makes Lugosi’s narrator seem more like a pervy retired mad scientist suffering dementia in a detached environment than anything else. In addition to the several main plots there is a bizarre ten minute wordless fetish sequence of a woman whipping another woman tied to a couch. . . added in for punch, I guess. It’s a tremendously wretched collage of broken ideas and unrelated sequences that I actually really respect for being so blindingly strange. It’s a movie I can watch by myself and still laugh at.

Just like Orson Wells.

There are some bad movies I can’t recommend enough. Glen or Glenda is one of them.

If you have an attraction toward bad movies than I’m sure Ed Wood is already on your radar. Troll 2, The Room, Ben and Arthur, and Birdemic are great, but sometimes you just crave classic crap. I can’t get into “The Asylum” production company because they know better and purposely make bad movies. I’ve said it before: the best bad movies have incredible deluded passion propelling them. Now Ed Wood was not the worst filmmaker ever and he wasn’t even the first truly awful filmmaker, but his films were more than bad. They were weird and that weirdness makes them memorable.

I put it to you. What is worse? Memorable crap or forgotten mediocrity?

Pull the string! Pull the string!

Go watch some Ed Wood movies and then go watch the movie Ed Wood. You’ll get some of the best of the worst along with Burton’s best.

Dear Hollywood

Dear Hollywood,

I wish I could say that I knew you were trying. I wish I could say that.

The fact of the matter is this: you don’t get me anymore. You’ve changed. I always knew you were about the money, but lately it’s been getting out of hand. You still know how to cast pretty faces, but you’ve lost that zest, that spark you had decades ago when we first met. There’s no more imagination in you. You’re not the daring risk-taker you were. You always liked to play it safe, but now you’ve become so dry and milquetoast that it’s depressing to look at you.

I sat in the theater today and I waited to be entertained. I waited for two hours and you simply could not deliver. I stared glassy eyed as you tried to appease me with promises of better things to come, but all of your cheesy, gimmick-filled trailer ploys were empty and, to be quite honest, they are beginning to all look like the same movie. When the feature finally appeared I was again letdown. It was the same pile of disappointing sadness you had tried to lay on me last time.

You used to create. Now you only regurgitate.

What happened to your glory days back in the 1930s? It seemed there was almost no stopping you. Remember all those bold films you produced in the 1960s and 70s? You used to be a breeding ground and training camp for budding imagination. You used to have real magic, but now you’re too old and scared to take any chances. I hate what you have become. You sadden me with your pathetic attempts to excite me in the movies these days. You used to make winning comedies, spectacular epics, compelling dramas, and soaring character studies, but these days you can barely muster anything beyond old, tired rehashings, remakes, re-imaginings, re-packagings, and sequels that come far, far too late.

You would be better off dead and as a fond memory. I would rather miss you and recall the joy we shared than be disappointed in what garbage you’ve been cranking out lately. There’s no more inspiration left in you it seems. You are dead to me.

I hope and pray to God that you will return to us, Hollywood. You need help. You’re eyes are bloodshot and your movements are creaky. You keep on dressing up and putting on a show at premieres to fool everyone into thinking everything’s still okay. But those who knew you best aren’t fooled. And we are distressed by your current state. We want you back.

In view of your recent shortcomings and reticence to continue on this regrettable path, I (and similarly-minded folk) have found someone else. World cinema is putting you to shame. Some smart independent features have also moved into town. There’s a whole galaxy of short films that few have seriously explored. There’s also several documentaries that are quite appealing and they are far more audacious than you ever were. Then there’s all of the wonderful entries from your own illustrious past to revisit. These and more shall keep me entertained while your fading light wanes in the encroaching night.

I don’t need you anymore. I have others who have not let me down yet. They are more interesting than you. I’m sorry. I confess that I was even beginning to create my own art toward the end. It was only because you were not giving me the stimulation I needed.

I really hate to end it like this, but you are the one who has ended it. If you come up with something original in the future I will always be available to view it, but I will be personally surprised if that day does indeed come.

Love Always,

BurrelloSubmarine

P.S. You still have a few of my shirts. I’ll be over later this week to collect them.