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Nato And Remy’s Last Stand: Guilty Pleasures As Charged

With so many different varieties and sub-genres of horror movies, it's inevitable for directors to push the boundaries of what is good and holy, exploring uncharted territories others ignored for a reason. I'm talking real boundary pushers, made up of nothing but sick ideas and twisted fantasies, or films created with the worst of intentions, and even less cinematic value. But when you think about it, there's always going to be that one guy who lives to one-up everyone, even if it demands shock-value entertainment sending mainstream viewers into a tizzy of protesting, and you can imagine just how messed up the seediest horror movies can become given how exploitative mainstream films have even started to become. These films, almost forcing viewers to hate them right off the bat, are nothing but guilty pleasures for the most corrupted of minds, but hell, people still make them, so someone has to be watching, right?
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With so many different varieties and sub-genres of horror movies, it’s inevitable for directors to push the boundaries of what is good and holy, exploring uncharted territories others ignored for a reason. I’m talking real boundary pushers, made up of nothing but sick ideas and twisted fantasies, or films created with the worst of intentions, and even less cinematic value. But when you think about it, there’s always going to be that one guy who lives to one-up everyone, even if it demands shock-value entertainment sending mainstream viewers into a tizzy of protesting, and you can imagine just how messed up the seediest horror movies can become given how exploitative mainstream films themselves are becoming. These films, almost forcing viewers to hate them right off the bat, are nothing but guilty pleasures for the most corrupted of minds, but hell, people still make them, so someone has to be watching, right?

Look at The Human Centipede for example. I know I harp on it a lot, but a movie about ass-to-mouth isn’t that hard to single out. Anyway, director Tom Six created a cult guilty pleasure by dragging the “torture porn” genre even deeper into the murky waters of disgusting filmmaking by sewing people together and having them eat poop, something viewers couldn’t look away from yet just had to experience for themselves. My opinion was not very high of the “originality,” but low and behold, a sequel was made. Now, no matter how f#cked up a movie is, if it produces revenue, you damn well better expect a sequel, and for all the people hating on Six’s film, a second was a no brainer. So who the hell was watching this film and begging for another, yet not telling anyone? That right there, my friends, is a definite guilty pleasure.

But really, who watches a ton of this crap? Bad cinema is bad cinema, why bother sifting through? Who is crazy enough to submerge themselves in F-Grade productions and even worse ideas? You’re damn right those people are Remy and I. Surprised? Right, shouldn’t have even asked. But c’mon, whether you publicize it or not, everyone has that guilty pleasure movie they refuse to admit love for, yet go home and watch it every night before they go to sleep. I mean, what about those dreadful people addicted to Lifetime specials?! Are false romantic hopes and shameless tugging of people’s heartstrings any better than movies about man-eating beds and killer vegetables?! I think not, but even so, Remy and I were reluctant to open up and reveal what terrible, awful, disgusting, and laughable films we still stand behind. You with me, Remy?

Hells yeah. Sometimes I like the worst things the best. Trashy woman, cheap drugs, burgers that are bad for me, and movies that are even worse. Sometimes, a film can be SO bad, it transcends bad and becomes awesome. Let’s not pretend any of us are driving Jaguars (the animal, not the car) and are the most well bred people on Earth. No, sometimes even the best and brightest of us just want to shut off our brains, and nothing does that better than a terrible film. I mean, even the worst bl*wjob is better than no bl*wjob, right? Well, not if she bites, but I digress, that’s for a whole different list…


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Author
Image of Matt Donato
Matt Donato
A drinking critic with a movie problem. Foodie. Meatballer. Horror Enthusiast.