Thursday, August 12, 2010

Sisterhood of the Traveling Crap

A list of the 20 Worst Chick Flicks of the Past 20 Years, ranked according to an average of critics' scores upon each movie's release, is now on Metacritic also offers its assessment of what defines a chick flick:

"...most if not all films that fall in the romance or romantic comedy genre are...considered to be chick flicks...any film that uses the word 'love' in the title - or, even better, 'bride' or 'wedding' - is almost certain to be a chick flick."

Duly noted; there are, however, several movies that fall within either category and are refreshing alternatives to chick flicks. In no particular order:

1. Bride of Chucky

Jennifer Tilly shines in a campy role as the Lake Shore Strangler's former lover, who joins him in killer doll form thanks to some black magic and a dream. Come for the nail gun murder, stay for the repulsive closing birth scene! As chick flicks teach, family matters.

2. Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer

Girl meets boy, girl falls for boy, girl discovers boy murdered his mother in cold blood, girl doesn't mind, girl falls even more in love, boy mutters "I guess I love you, too", boy massacres girl and drops suitcase full of her body parts on the roadside. Loosely based on the confessions of Henry Lee Lucas, this blissful 80s romance features Rob Zombie favorite Tom "George Wydell" Towles as a buffoonish, incestuous rapist. So pleasant, I'm shocked the ads weren't pastel!

3. Corpse Bride

Victor's wedding plans are going fairly smoothly until the pesky, lovelorn corpse of a murdered woman gets in the way. Sort of an orchestral, decomposed My Best Friend's Wedding.

4. Meet the Feebles

Directed by Peter Jackson, prior to the 80-pound weight loss and obsession with CGI. A binge-eating, aging hippo thinks her marriage is just sublime (and performs a song called "Garden of Love" with cake in her cleavage) until she finds out her walrus husband is spending "quality time" with a cat. She gets miffed:

5. Love and Death on Long Island

John Hurt's finest work since his unfortunate lunch break in Alien. A prim, old-fashioned author accidentally wanders into a B-movie screening and develops a private obsession with a low-rent, BOP Magazine-ready actor. He eventually tracks the actor down at his home; things end with an excruciating diner confession, a seemingly 900-foot-long fax, and an emotionally tumultuous Jason Priestley.

Put some rollers in your hair, get the Purely Decadent out of the freezer, and enjoy all five!

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