1. From The Beast of Yucca Flats, Night Train to Mundo Fine, and The Skydivers...
If Ed Wood is the affable and beloved-by-his-people king of bad movies, then Coleman Francis is his douchebag son that everyone hates and prays won't inherit the throne. In addition to a handful of bit acting parts (many of which are uncredited), Francis directed a trilogy of movies on the wrong side of the Terrible Movie Parabola: they're not so bad they're good, they're just plain bad. Coleman Francis is the rare director to have his entire oeuvre mocked on Mystery Science Theater, an honor he shares only with Hal Warren (whose only movie ever was Manos: the Hands of Fate). That's a distinguished club; more men have climbed Mount Everest. Since Francis only has three movies to his name, they're all worth going over here. His first movie was The Beast of Yucca Flats, which came out in 1961. B-movie staple Tor Johnson plays a defecting Soviet scientist who, upon exposure to radiation, becomes a kill-crazy beast. There are cops, there are kids, there's a manhunt from an airplane, but eventually the good guys win and the beast gets shot to death. All of the sound was added in post production: dialogue along with sound effects. No one was ever filmed with their mouth moving so it would be easier to sync the sound. Next was The Skydivers, from 1963. Melodrama unfolds around a couple who own a small airport and skydiving facility. A couple of people plunge to their deaths; two more get shot. Everybody's happy. Finally, the pièce de résistance: Night Train to Mundo Fine. This one has none other than film legend John Carradine in it, for a bonus One Degree of WTF connection. He agreed to a bit part in it only if he got to sing the movie's theme song. Totally a fair deal. It worked out for Francis, too, because the song might actually be the best part of the whole thing. The movie follows an escaped convict and new friends he makes on the lam. Desperate for cash, they sign up for an assault on Cuba, escape a POW camp, and ultimately try to find a mine in California where they're all going to make it rich. Nobody makes it, though, and they all die. What all three of these movies have in common is that they're painfully amateur in every respect. You'll note the same cast across all three, along with stilted acting and plots that, when they aren't dragging, are needlessly grim. Also, lots of light aircraft and coffee.
...To Roger Ebert
And Francis doesn't come to Ebert via the usual route (i.e. getting reviewed), either. Instead, we have Russ Meyer to thank for it, himself a film director of dubious, though influential, accomplishments, like Faster, Pussycat! Kill! Kill!. However, unlike a lot of schlocky jigglefest directors, Meyer occasionally sourced from greatness. No less a figure than Roger Ebert wrote three screenplays for Meyer: Beyond the Valley of the Dolls, Up!, and Beneath the Valley of the Ultra-Vixens. Since we gave Francis's trilogy a fair rundown, Ebert deserves no less. Beyond the Valley of the Dolls follows girl rock band The Kelly Affair, later The Carrie Nations, as they come to LA to pursue their fortunes. There's violence, there's sex, there's lesbian sex, but ultimately there's a happy ending with a wedding and good triumphing over evil. There's also a performance from 60s one-hit wonder group Strawberry Alarm Clock, which is pretty cool. Up! is billed as a "soft core sex comedy" and features Nazis, an Adolf Hitler send-up, and narration from a nude Greek chorus in the form of Kitten Natividad. A very different beast from the Disney/Pixar movie of the same name, that's for sure. Finally, Beneath the Valley of the Ultra-Vixens is little more than a sequence of sex scenes strung together that center around a husband's obsession with, well, rear entry. Remember, none other than
Roger Ebert wrote these movies. Yes, the same Roger Ebert. They are all worth watching just for that (and for the jiggle, if you're into that); however, the Coleman Francis bonus point can only be awarded to "Beyond the Valley of the Dolls," which cast him in the flattering role of "Rotund Drunk." Maybe Francis should have taken a cue from Ebert and switched to reviewing movies instead of writing them.
What are some other "1 Degree of WTF" examples you can think of? Share in the comments below!