Most people are too busy to keep up with all the good movies they'd like to see, so why should anyone spend their precious time watching the bad ones?
In Why It's OK to Love Bad Movies, philosopher and cinematic bottom feeder Matthew Strohl enthusiastically defends a fondness for disreputable films. Combining philosophy of art with film criticism, Strohl flips conventional notions of "good" and "bad" on their heads and makes the case that the ultimate value of a work of art lies in what it can add to our lives. By this measure, some of the worst movies ever made are also among the best.
Through detailed discussions of films such as Troll 2, The Room, Batman & Robin, Twilight, Ninja III: The Domination, and a significant portion of Nicolas Cage's filmography, Strohl argues that so-called "bad movies" are the ones that break the rules of the art form without the aura of artistic seriousness that surrounds the avant-garde. These movies may not win any awards, but they offer rich opportunities for creative engagement and enable the formation of lively fan communities, and they can be a key ingredient in a fulfilling aesthetic life.
Key Features:
Written in a humorous, approachable style, appealing to readers with no background in philosophy. Elaborates the rewards of loving bad movies, such as forming unlikely social bonds and developing refinement without narrowness. Discusses a wide range of beloved bad movies, including Plan 9 from Outer Space, The Core, Battlefield Earth, and Freddy Got Fingered. Contains the most extensive discussion of Nicolas Cage ever included in a philosophy book.
I loved watching Mystery Science Theater 3000 as a kid, and this book's argument is powerful enough to make me wonder: was I wrong to enjoy making fun of bad movies?
This was a pleasure to read, partly because as someone with admittedly pretty conventional taste there is plenty to learn about Troll 2, Ninja III: The Domination, and the less widely loved areas of Nicholas Cage's or Dolph Lundren's filmographies, but also because Strohl is good at the essential movie-criticism art of simply describing the objects of attention in enjoyable ways. For example, his description of one scene in Ed Wood's Plan 9 from Outer Space cracked me up:
We see the police leave for the graveyard in daylight and arrive at night in a different car. Once they arrive, one of the cops casually uses his gun to adjust his hat and then rests the gun on his chest, pointing at his face, with his finger on the trigger. (p. 38)
I also appreciated the economical discussion of the limits of Bourdieu's notion of aesthetic distinction, which focuses on the single dimension of aesthetic tastes being used to reinforce class distinctions, and the emphasis on the way that aesthetic tastes have more general expressive, identity-forming potential (pp.105-106). That discussion reminded me of the difference between, say, William Labov's early work in sociolinguistics, where differences in pronunciation were shown to correlated with certain kinds of class distinctions, and Penny Eckert's later work on the more deliberate, expressive roles that pronunciation can play (aligning oneself with the jocks or the burnouts in a high school in the Detroit suburbs, for example).
There's so much more to talk about in here, but just to pick one point of mild disagreement, there's a quote from Alexander Nehamas (2008) that Strohl and Nick Riggle both cite and agree with:
Imagine, if you can, a world where everyone likes, or loves, the same things, where every disagreement about beauty can be resolved. That would be a desolate, desperate world (p. 184)
What, exactly, would be so bad about such a world? For Strohl, such a world would be "very boring". But I think Nehamas's and Strohl's worry inverts a very reasonable attitude towards art: that movies (for example) are enjoyable and worth thinking about, whether or not you're disagreeing with people about them. Disagreement isn't essential to the aesthetic experience—though it certainly can be productive and enjoyable. Strohl's book is a great, enthusiastic example of an attempt to win over his audience to share his views about the bad-good movies he discusses. Doing that requires aiming for agreement where there wasn't agreement before. So there's something about the project of convincing us that liking bad-good movies is OK, and Strohl's loving, open aesthetic attitude that grinds against Nehamas's vision of what would make for a desolate, desperate world.
Those who read my blog (Sects and Violence in the Ancient World) know that I frequently post about movies. Many of them are not good. Part of the reason for this is economic (bad movies are often free on streaming services), but part of it is by choice. Matthew Strohl’s Why It’s OK To Love Bad Movies is a good explanation of the choice part. There is something very likable about some bad movies. It’s a category Strohl terms “good-bad.”
This is a philosophy book, but at many points you’ll forget that. The premise is set up (why it’s okay to like bad movies) and is followed by four content chapters and then a closing argument. The content chapters cover quite a lot of territory. Strohl addresses three of the movies that often top bad movie lists, and then he moves on to discuss different types of bad movies. Some of them receive extended discussion, but not each and every one. The next chapter covers the Twilight series, and the last content chapter focuses on the movies of Nicholas Cage.
As I note in my blog post about the book (link above), one of the main takeaways is that ridiculing bad movies doesn’t promote good will. There is an ethical component to this. In fact, mean-spirited ridicule almost never helps. People have different tastes, and it’s far more mature, and humane, to appreciate those tastes rather than trying to make others feel bad for having them. This book is not only fun to read, it’s philosophy with a conscience.
I loved this book! I disagree with Strohl’s wording tho, I don’t like the term “Bad Movies,” yet I have been trying to move the phrase, “Underappreciated Movies,” into the vernacular. Anyway, Stohl breaks down limiting terms such as good and bad and has an amazing discussion on why it’s impossible to qualify taste in the first place. This is a must read for fans of “Underappreciated Movies,” or head scratchers at my movie posts on Facebook. The chapter analyzing the work of Nicholas Cage alone, makes this one worth the read! Five out of 5 stars!
An excellent love letter to good-bad movies. I've been a Bad Movie Lover for a long time, but this gives me some language to talk about it and justify myself to non-believers. I loved the writing style which is at once very philosophical but also casual and easy to read. My Letterboxd watchlist has seen a lot of additions in the last few days.
An appreciation of all types of films that probably would go down better as a series of lectures than a book. Still, the examination of the career of Nicolas Cage is superior. If only the author had done more with Dolph Lundgren...