Yeah yeah, I know, I keep saying I’ll stop abandoning this blog, and then I do immediately again for a few months, well the reason for that is… Actually, there is no reason for that other than the standard gawthic ones. Laziness and depression!

Anyway, new content, so quit whining.

This morning I watched a movie so bad it actually explains exactly what happened to Gary Busey’s career.

Gingerdead Man

This movie is made in the vein of 1980s survival/hammer horror flicks. It’s a poorly thought out plot, based on revenge from a guy that actually totally deserved what he got in the first place but is kinda resentful of a society that frowns on rampant killing sprees. There are two minor differences however:

1) The plot device which allows him to come back from the dead makes even less sense than usual

2) Almost no one dies, except for the nerd, and two really annoying people – as opposed to the characters that stereotypically get it or kinda should get it from their own amazing stupidity.

The movie opens on Gary Busey method acting Millard, a psychopath that’s blowing away a family diner, and for some reason letting Sarah (Robin Sydney) survive because she reminds him of a cat or some shit. After (presumably) some time later, we come back to Sarah in her mother(-who-became-an-alcohic)’s bakery on a Friday night with nerd-boy Brick and least-convincing-latino girl Julia, getting things ready for next weeks’ baked treats. When this is isn’t made clear. It seems like perhaps a couple of weeks, but there’s been enough time for both a trial and execution. For some reason Sarah keeps a newspaper clippings of the horrible events, the court case, and the way Millard is executed which leads to possibly the stupidest thing I’ve heard in a horror film this decade, delivered courtesy of Julia:

“You know it says here, after they fried him in the chair, he was cremated, and they sent his ashes to his mother in Queensborough! GROSS!“

I’m pretty sure cremation is standard practice for those that can’t afford a burial plot, and sending the ashes to closest surviving kin is pretty standard. Then again, Julia’s meant to be a Mexican, they have their Grim Fandango thing or whatever that festival is. Almost immediately, a mysterious stranger in a cape and cowl delivers a batch of unordered “Grandma’s Brand Gingerbread Seasoning”, quickly followed by Brick bleeding all over it after slicing his hand on the box. Now, rather than run it under a tap or get a bandaid, he continues to bleed over the seasoning a little as the camera focuses on the inside of the jar, implying that his blood is required to bring about the magic that’s meant to happen. Rather than toss out the seasoning, as one would expect in any place that gives a single fuck for hygiene practices, he just tosses some into the dough that’s currently mixing, and let’s it mix in – except it doesn’t really.

Now if this a little blood is all it took to get the Gingerdead Man to come back to life, that’d be cool . It’s a trope. Only, they had to make it even more specifically unlikely and Frankenstein-esque by the additional requirement that the bakery oven would also have to be hit by a lightning bolt (or get some sort of massive electrical surge) at the same time as the baking process to really bring him back.

Now is it just me, or is that so fucking specific as to basically be impossible?

Then there’s also the whole issue of Sarah’s mother surviving being placed in the oven to bake. Not just surviving, but also being only a little sooty, and not burnt at all. Or that no one thinks it’d be a good idea to take Sarah’s mother to a hospital after Garybread Busey slices off her index finger (which has her wedding ring on it for some reason). And no one wonders how a revolver manages to fire 17 shots in the space of 28 seconds without being reloaded. Or how they manage to lose people on the ground floor of a building that has a 40sqm footprint and only three rooms plus a room sized oven… or that there’s a room sized oven that you just walk into.

Seriously, where the fuck is this bakery!? Auschwitz?

I watched this movie on the premise that it was going to be so bad it was good. Like Tremors, or Sharktopus Versus Mega Shark. After all, it’s already part of a better thought out trilogy than the new Star Wars movies. Sadly, it was just so bad, it was awful.

Fuck it, here’s the trailer:

But yes, you heard me right. TRILOGY!

Sadly enough this film has actually spawned a franchise, like Krispy Kremes, and there are many many more films… Perhaps the some bakery chain will actually catch on to the value of kitsch advertising and steal the idea. It’s the only thing that could possibly redeem this travesty against cinematography.

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