You should watch bad films.

You should watch bad films.

I’m not talking about the cult classics that were widely misunderstood by general audiences (The Room, 2003) nor am I’m not talking about films so weird that the best way to watch them is with friends at a booze fueled pizza party (a la the Leprechaun Series). Nor am I talking about the movies with dangerous homophobic messaging or torture porn violence against women or films that continue to normalize and glorify the dregs of humanity currently running our society.

I’m talking about movies that are really bad. The ones that make you cringe, avert your eyes, and grit your teeth. The ones with lighting so weak the whole shot looks like mud pies; the ones with audio issues that make you long for the silent film era; the ones with stiff actors spouting unbelievable lines that you genuinely pity anyone who worked on the set and had to listen to those scenes on repeat.

You should watch those. 

For a large portion of my twenties, I was an integral part of a small film festival and subsequently have watched hours of what most of us would consider very bad movies. When the festival opened a call on filmfreeway with cheap (and one year, free) submission prices to artists all over the world, it resulted in a barrage of both pure garbage and mediocre projects to curate a program out of. To be fair, there have been gleaming gems that I have never forgotten (A few include  ‘Move Me’ by Gabe Crate, ‘New Neighbors’ by E.G Bailey, and ‘Ya Albi’ by Christine Chen).

But, of course, I’ve suffered through really bad films.  I would divvy up the movies to a team of film aficionados to do preliminary judging for all the submissions so they could sort the wheat from the chaff and always, without fail, a screener would email me and say “Why did you assign me nothing but bad films?”

“Just watch them”, I would implore through the keyboard, “you can learn from them!”

“But these aren’t good!” They would respond with sad emojis and exclamation marks.

Alas, throughout my tenure supervising the contest I lost several volunteers to their refusal to watch just one more crummy motion picture.

But hear me out - here are 3 reasons you should stomach a steady diet of crummy motion pictures, especially if you are an artist yourself.  

Watching bad films….

Flexes your analytical muscle 

In my experience, when I asked a forlorn screener what made the project they were watching so terrible, the most common answer is that they just didn’t like it. Few people can really put their finger on why they like or dislike something with any real substance, although you get a fascinating look into the subconscious societal hang ups that people have (a la the harassment Kelly Marie Tran faced as Rose Tico in the Star Wars reboot). Anecdotally, I’ve also noticed that people don’t know what they like. One will say they love comedies but their Netflix history is a seriously un-funny display of reality TV shows about toxic relationships. Watching bad film confronts you with the questions of what elements make it intolerable? Is it the subject matter or is it the way the story is framed? Is it the acting itself or is it relationships? Is it you (the film) or me (my cinematic preferences)? When you watch a project that isn’t great per se, you aren’t getting swept into the story, beautiful cinematography and even more dazzling celebrities - you develop the skill of dissecting what’s in front of you.

We are in a consumption age where an influencer can make content beautiful with no real substance on their cell phones and where people can make a very  interesting piece that never takes off because they didn’t have the equipment that consumers have grown accustomed to seeing. If it doesn’t immediately look ~* aesthetic *~, there’s something that will be a few scrolls away. This has to do with technology spoiling us into thinking that if a video looks good then it is good. But if you’ve been flexing your critique skills by watching all the chaff, then the wheat can really stand out. You aren’t carried off by the cheap tricks of the hottest “binge worthy” series that everyone else gushes over because you can clearly see it for what it is (ahem Outer Banks, Netflix), and you can appreciate the cancelled-too-soon genius of other great series (still not over the High Fidelity reboot on Hulu). 

Will make you a better filmmaker

It sounds a little nuts but trust me, watching shitty films will teach you more about how to make a fantastic movie than just studying the greats. When I would watch submissions for the festival, I would always see movies that had strong bones and I would see movies that should never have been attempted. You’ll be able to see a half formed idea that doesn’t quite make sense or doesn’t explain the plot holes and you instinctively know that if the writer had a few more drafts of really questioning the idea, then something really special could have been made. On the opposite side, I have seen many films that should have never made it past the screen writer’s scratch pad. Not every story should be made into a film - not that they shouldn’t be told, maybe as a short prose or poem or audio drama or campfire thriller - which is a hard lesson to learn. But it’s a lot easier to learn from other people’s mistakes. 

I’ve also learned how to kill my darlings, a phrase I learned in film school. That long meandering shot of the main character drinking coffee? Cut it. The quirky character who only exists to provide exposition? Kill her. The beautiful shot of the tortured artist that was so strong while filming that now completely slows the pace of the film and confuses the audience? You already know. Remember point #1 - in analyzing what’s wrong with the piece (a jump cut, awful audio, poor structure) you are reiterating the lessons of what not to do. And for god sakes, pay attention to production design (a la every freshman film class that has filmed a millionaire “business man” in their crappy dorms trying to pass off a thrifted sports coat as an Armani suit).

Will keep the artform moving forward

Aside from the huge ego boost one might feel about any projects they have collecting dust, watching bad films encourages the art to continue to be made. Practice makes perfect, so the saying goes, and all the creatives you love used to be bad at the very thing you now love them for. Few of us on the earth are prodigies, and prodigies are boring anyway. The most satisfying stories introduce us to protagonists who worked hard, made mistakes, and came out better on the other side (read: Remember the Titans, the only VHS our middle schools ever owned). But by supporting our friends who upload their bad films on YouTube, going to a local film festival and suffering through a comedically flawed attempt at drama (or better yet, volunteering as a screener for those festivals), and participating in contests or with organizations that encourage bad content, you are showing someone on that set that it is possible. You are teaching the gaffer on that set that if this asshole director can make a nonsensical zombie survival flick, then so can they, and they can do it better. You are showing the actress who is so bored by the flat characters she’s forced to play that there are more opportunities to be in more bad films and that one of those bad films will lead to an opportunity to be in a decent film and from one of those decent films will be a chance to be in a really good one. It seems counterintuitive, but to get great stuff, we need all the great minds to work through their craft and produce a lot of bad stuff. We need YOU to make your bad film and learn from it so you can make your masterpiece. Or, maybe James Franco will parody your bad film so it can live in infamy and at the top of the worst ever lists.

You should watch bad films.