B-movies can be divisive. Due to how low their budgets are
the graphics sometimes wind up questionable, less experienced actors are hired,
and other cost-cutting measures are taken. They’re rarely shown in theaters, few
people are putting money on them, but they can be a bit of a time-risk. No one
wants to spend hours of their time watching something that isn’t all that
great. They’d rather put their hard-won free time toward something better.
For movie fans that do enjoy B-movies, there’s almost a
cult-like feel to their enthusiasm. I’m not gonna lie, I’m a part of that side
of the argument. There are B-movies that I quote more than any other movie I’ve
seen. In fact, as I mentioned in my original personal cinematic landscape
article, my friends and I religiously quote The Gamers: Dorkness Rising
(2008).
Why do movies like that stick with us?
It’s my belief that because the makers of B-movie don’t need
to answer to multi-billion-dollar corporations, they don’t wind up having to
speak for people who have nothing in common with their demographic. The geeks
that created The Gamers: Dorkness Rising spoke directly to other geeks
without having to sacrifice anything because some billionaires thought they
needed to speak to a wider audience.
I was talking to a friend about horror movies last night.
He’s not the biggest fan of newer polished, over-done, films. The old-school 80’s
cult horror flicks speak to him more. The face peeling of Poltergeist (1982),
the stop motion gore of The Evil Dead (1981), the high-pitched
soundtrack of A Nightmare on Elm Street (1984). All those films can be
found on the National Film Registry protected by the Library of Congress, but
if they were made today, big-budget companies would strangle the charm out of
them.
The charm in that low-budget creativity leads much easier to
a cult following, which is why so many cult films are B-movies.
Hell, my favorite comedy flick, Clerks (1994) – which
is on my list as part of the comedy genre – was funded completely by the
director maxing out his credit cards. The constraint of less money leaves room
for more creativity.
The best example of a low-budget B-movie that got even more
creative due to lack of funds is Deadstream (2022).
Deadstream is one of the newest movies going on my
cinematic landscape. It came out just last year and I had no expectations for
it. I’m not a huge fan of found footage. In fact, I dislike the sub-genre so
much that I don’t even go over it as part of this article series at all.
Falling in love with
Deadstream was something no one could have expected
of me.
The main character of the film is about as obnoxious as he
can get. He’s a narcissistic streamer working to get past a bunch of scandals
while trying to survive a night in a haunted house. As someone who loves to
watch YouTubers/streamers it was easy to figure out where a lot of the
inspiration for the character came from. They had plenty of material to draw on
from bad apology videos and dumb mistakes others have made. A big production
company might have forced them to tone that down.
It's a small thing, but something that added to the depth
and reality of the character. People outside of online culture might watch and
think it was a little far-fetched, but those of us who have followed ukelele
apologies and seen people arrested for dumb pranks used for clout – we know
better. It’s more realistic than we wish it was.
Aside from that, the entire movie took the found footage
sub-genre and elevated it. The video is steadier because of the web-cam
component, which allows people like my co-author, Cat, to watch it despite the
vertigo she deals with. Going back and forth between the cameras allows for
less graphic needs while the practical effects are much sleeker than anything
CGI would have created at their budget.
Deadstream was a welcome change of pace by both
critics and audiences, and I can only hope that other found footage creators
learn from its successes. In 10 years, I hope I’ll be able to see it up for its
own spot on the National Film Registry listing. I want it to alter the way
others make movies the same way it’s altered the way I view them.
There’s another side to the B-movie genre: movies that
aren’t made to be good. They’re made to mock the industry or just as a fun
parody of movies in general. No big-budget company is going to pick up the kind
of movies that aren’t made to speak to anyone, really. They’re just made for
the fun of it. Not all of them turn into anything watchable, but when they do…
they become so bad, they’re good.
The most recent flick I’ve added to that part of my
landscape is the one that will probably become the first film I think of when
anyone says “it’s so bad, it’s good.” That film is
VelociPastor (2018).
When people think of B-movies,
VelociPastor is what
they’re thinking of. The costumes are ridiculously unreal, there’s not a single
actor taking things seriously, and the graphics are… unbelievable at best. Yet,
I cannot properly express how much fun I had watching it.
There were ninjas and dinosaurs, there was parody and humor.
The creators of
VelociPastor knew what they had. They leaned as far into
the silliness as possible. One of the very first scenes exhibits a take on
low-budget CGI that I’ve never seen utilized. It caught me so off guard that I
had to pause the film until I was done laughing.
It doesn’t matter how bad a film is, if it makes you laugh
so hard that you actively need to catch your breath, it’s good.
VelociPastor is never the type of film that I’d go
around recommending to people looking for a real movie. That said, at a friend
gathering with a bunch of people looking to laugh and drink while watching
something to giggle at, it’d be the first thing I pull up.
I’ll always have a deep love for low-budget films. I grew up
watching marathons of them on Halloween, and they are probably some of the
first movies to ever affect the way I watched other films.
