Long ago, in a galaxy far, far away, before there was the direct-to-video market, people who made howlingly bad films had just one way of mitigating the financial loss. That was to send bad movies to small towns where people would pay to see ANYTHING at a movie theater, because there was nothing else to do. (We're talking about the pre-cable, pre-VHS, just 6 channels on TV days, folks!)
This is how I came to see "The Extraordinary Seaman" in a double-bill with "Krakatoa East of Java" in Lancaster, California in 1969 when I was 13 years old. This has to rank as one of the most awful pairings of movies of all time.
It's funny, because for all that I can recall this movie as being incomprehensible, boring to the point of inducing numbness, and funny only in unintentional ways, Alan Alda stood out in it as the only bearable element. (I know Faye Dunaway and Mickey Rooney are credited in the movie, but I cannot for the life of me remember anything about what they did, which is probably a good thing.) This is not to say that his performance was good. It wasn't, that was impossible, this movie was so bad. This movie's most redeeming feature was that it inspired practically the whole theater to throw popcorn at the screen and to add an audience soundtrack of groans and hisses and boos and hoots, and that was fun.
What it left me with is an indelible memory of what a backwater Lancaster, California was in the days before the Antelope Valley Freeway was built: we were the kind of small town where bad films were sent to eke out a little revenue for the people involved. I think about that every time I see some direct-to-video movie in the rack at the supermarket check-out stand.
And I'm devoutly thankful for all the options we have now to avoid seeing movies like "The Extraordinary Seaman."
This is how I came to see "The Extraordinary Seaman" in a double-bill with "Krakatoa East of Java" in Lancaster, California in 1969 when I was 13 years old. This has to rank as one of the most awful pairings of movies of all time.
It's funny, because for all that I can recall this movie as being incomprehensible, boring to the point of inducing numbness, and funny only in unintentional ways, Alan Alda stood out in it as the only bearable element. (I know Faye Dunaway and Mickey Rooney are credited in the movie, but I cannot for the life of me remember anything about what they did, which is probably a good thing.) This is not to say that his performance was good. It wasn't, that was impossible, this movie was so bad. This movie's most redeeming feature was that it inspired practically the whole theater to throw popcorn at the screen and to add an audience soundtrack of groans and hisses and boos and hoots, and that was fun.
What it left me with is an indelible memory of what a backwater Lancaster, California was in the days before the Antelope Valley Freeway was built: we were the kind of small town where bad films were sent to eke out a little revenue for the people involved. I think about that every time I see some direct-to-video movie in the rack at the supermarket check-out stand.
And I'm devoutly thankful for all the options we have now to avoid seeing movies like "The Extraordinary Seaman."