Wild Blade

Lordy, lordy, this movie was billed on the cover as "reminiscent of early Fassbinder," but has nothing of that quality to recommend it. Bad script, bad acting, bad, just bad! I must admit to a moment or two of sick admiration for its badness, but I'm fairly certain this was unintentional on the part of its creator, David Geffner. I'm not sure what this fella was up to, but Wild Blade isn't even good in an "experimental" kind of way. It's chock-full of moody jazz music that is apparently supposed to substitute for plot and angsty shots of people pouting for extended periods of time. Thom Crouch, playing the ruthless pimp, is fascinating in the same way that watching a car crash is fascinating; you just can't take your eyes off the disaster. Don't waste an hour of your life watching this thing. Really.

I saw this at an early '90s Short Film Festival, where it was playing alongside one of my own films. This was, quite frankly, the most painfully awful piece of sludge I have ever had the misfortune of viewing. The acting wouldn't pass muster in a toothpaste commercial (the villain comes across as a bizarre mix between Charles Durning's Doc Hopper from "The Muppet Movie" and Lambert Wilson's Merovingian from "The Matrix Reloaded"), the writing is laughable - and those are the GOOD points.

If you ever have the chance to see this movie - Please, don't stop to think, just run screaming into the night. I still have traumatic flashbacks of this movie.

Okay, maybe it wasn't THAT bad, but it sure wasn't good.