The guy who paid $50 for ’80s action flick Miami Connection on eBay explains why the movie’s not “so bad it’s good” — it’s so good it’s good. Image courtesy Drafthouse Films
“So bad it’s good.” That’s how people are describing Miami Connection, an unreleased 35-mm action film from 1987 that I recently purchased on eBay for $50, and which is now getting critical raves and a bona fide theatrical release.
The first half of that quote is wrong, and the proof will be when we’re still discussing Miami Connection years after we’ve forgotten “good” movies like The King’s Speech or The Hurt Locker or whatever movie is vying for Oscar gold next year.
Zack Carlson
Zack Carlson is a movie programmer at Alamo Drafthouse, where he hosts the Terror Tuesday screening series. He is also a producer on The American Scream, a documentary from the filmmaking team behind Best Worst Movie. The American Scream airs Sunday at 8 p.m./7 Central on Chiller.
You see, enjoyment is easy. We seek out things that bring us pleasure. If we like the way a certain food tastes, we say it’s good and put more of it in our mouths. This is basic human nature. Unfortunately, our nature’s broken — specifically when it comes to the way we enjoy movies.
Take the recent rediscovery of Miami Connection, which is finally being released by Drafthouse Films, the distribution arm of Alamo Drafthouse, where I work as a programmer. The lost ’80s action gem has garnered an unexpected amount of attention, much of it referring to the film’s alleged “earth-shaking, awe-inspiring badness.” The plot centers on a tae kwon do-themed synth-rock band called Dragon Sound and the group’s 10-fisted battle against an evil Florida empire of cocaine-dealing motorcycle ninjas.
Now, ask yourself why your eyebrows just leapt up when you read that last sentence. Because it sounds bad? No. Because it sounds incredible. Which it is, despite the fact that the film was written, produced and co-directed by its star Y.K. Kim, a middle-aged Korean immigrant who could barely speak English and had watched a total of six movies before shooting his own. He poured every cent and breath into making the film, mortgaging his house and giving up everything to see his project through.
The result is amateurish and dated … and sincerely, powerfully, supernaturally, unbelievably entertaining.
A Cinematic Revolution
The last few decades brought us the home-video explosion, online streaming and an industry-weakening wave of torrents and file sharing. Though the ever-increasing availability of movies is relatively recent, humans are already accustomed (and addicted) to a complete, godlike control over their entertainment. That’s just progress. As self-empowered arbiters of film programming, we’re all constantly making judgments on what is up to our personal standards of quality. But the cockiness of our armchair supremacy has given rise to an ugly, potentially lethal epidemic of irony.
Somewhere in the dark pit of our recent past, the point-and-laugh became an international pastime. Before then, movies — like music and books — had been assessed by their quality, and ultimately designated as being worthwhile or not. No one read best-selling romance novels to mock the plot structure, and no one listened to disco for giggles. People found things they liked and devoted themselves to their favorites, warts and all.
If these movies are actually just steaming piles, then why the obsession?
Then, in the shadows between the VHS shelves and late-night cable, it was no longer enough to simply dislike a movie based on its stunted performances or budgetary shortcomings. Viewers began indulging in a perceived superiority over their entertainment; it had to be derided, pointed out as a failure and roundly ridiculed.
Popular examples like Troll 2 and Deadly Prey planted seeds for a new type of predatory movie appreciation. Some people were content to elevate their egos by sneering at cardboard spaceships and burlap monsters, while others were more deeply transfixed by the fact that these troubled films had ever been made in the first place. The unifying theme was: “Boy oh boy. These movies sure are garbage.”
But if that is really the case — if these movies are actually just steaming piles — then why the obsession? Why do we revisit them again and again to the point that we know them better than any revered screen classic? Are we all self-loathing masochists? Probably not.
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