litefantastic

This show is random to levels that, on a slow day, are excessive. The pop-culture references and spastic interludes of sex and violence feel very much as though someone has taken the "Family Guy" bag of tricks and distilled it down to its primal, chaotic core.

Seen through the eyes of a cyborg chicken strapped to a chair, the show is what the chicken sees: surreal programming on television with television that frequently changes, hopping from the Care Bears to George Bush to Star Wars and back. The whole thing feels like an incredibly weak effort, and the style is just too welcoming to escape. Don't like what you're working on? Change the channel.

Fifteen minutes of this feels like an hour of life thrown away, all the way from the opening credits to the wretched cover version of "The Gonk" at the end. Never in my life did I think music sung by chickens would get old.

Rarely does one find a movie so bad that it achieves the often-sought paradigm of having so little redeeming value that that alone makes it worth watching. "Cyclone," I am happy to report, is such a film.

I knew I was in for something good as soon as I found the videotape. I am at least its fourth owner: It has a "Used Movie Sale! $9.95" sticker on the front, and a yard-sale sticker for one dollar. I picked it up at a thrift store for fifty cents.

The Used Movie Sale! sticker covers much of the front cover artwork, meaning that what I see is a truly odd blended still of the front of the Cyclone super bike, a car flipping over on fire, and Heather Thomas, wearing Flouncy Eighties Hair with her mouth open in an expression that says, "I 'ave a 'ooth ache." I saw that and thought, "All RIGHT." The case, honestly, was enough ("with nowhere to turn and no one to trust, Teri is plunged headlong into a maze of danger and deceit"), but I surprised myself by actually getting around to watching it. I always make time for the really bad films. That "Fight Club" tape can wait.

Meet Teri. Teri is a stunningly well-crafted character, as we can tell from her introduction, in which she and her friend do exercises that highlight her breasts and, later, her legwarmers. Then Teri goes off to hook up with her boyfriend for the evening that goes horribly wrong. Before she knows it, Teri is driven "straight into a web of deadly double-crosses in CYCLONE." The VHS box tells it like it is.

Left out of the box summary - perhaps out of some faint hope that actual copies of this film would be sold - is how awful the acting is. It might have been just me, but I kept thinking I could read the characters' thoughts through their eyes. "This is dumb," thinks Heather Thomas. "I know," thinks Bad Guy with Too-Wide Mouth.

A driving force (no pun intended) for the second half of this epic picture are the car chases. Those were actually pretty good, although I'm inclined that gasoline doesn't need coaching on how to explode. What really impressed me is that, in all the chases, the streets were pretty much empty. It's like there are only twenty people in this huge city.

I know what you're thinking. You're thinking, "Gee Wilikers! I have to see this movie!" The sad thing, though, is that you can't find it. Oh no. "Cyclone" is a film that finds YOU. Just wait. Some day - perhaps during lunch, perhaps late in the evening, perhaps "when military scientist Jeffery Combs ('Re-Animator')is murdered by hired assassins" - you will hear the rustle of legwarmers, and know that it is time.