We are all interested in bad movies, inexcusable cinema, worse-than-mediocre pictures, and miserable excuses for art, for that is the stuff we use to fill the hours when we should all be in church. You are interested in the unknown, the mysterious, and the inexcusable—that is why you are here. And now, for the first time, we are bringing to you the full story of some of the worst movies ever made. We are bringing you all the evidence, based only on the secret testimony of the miserable soul who survived a screening. I am that miserable soul. The absurdly low budgets, the endless shots of people’s feet, the ridiculous misogyny, the inane, looped dialogue, the risible acting—my friend, we cannot keep these a secret any longer. Let us punish the guilty. Let us reward the innocent. Remember, my friends: terrible movies such as these will affect you in the future!
NOTE: The bit of anarchy in question here is filmed in black and white. Unnecessary pans and zooms are used to photograph the anarchy, as if the filmmaker was unfamiliar with a movie camera and just playing around with it. The footage of the anarchy is edited with no attention to the rules of editing, so jump cuts, breaking the 180-degree rule, and general audience confusion are common. When one of the anarchists is talking, the camera focuses on whoever in the scene is NOT talking.
The Plot In Brief: Meg Kelton (Gigi Darlene) is happily married to Ted (Alan Yorke). When Ted announces that he has to go in to work on a Saturday, Meg is disappointed because she wanted to stay in bed all morning pleasing him. Ted leaves for work anyway. Meg begins her housework regime in a revealing negligee. When she leaves the apartment to throw out the trash, the building janitor (Harold Key) assaults her. Meg kills him with an ashtray.
Bad Girls Go To Hell features a shitty faux Twilight Zone ending so misconceived that it would be hilarious if it was not so soul-crushingly grim. Is Bad Girls Go To Hell a veiled social protest, portraying all men as the beasts we suspect ourselves to be? (The men in the film are all awful bullies and alcoholics.) Or is this the work of a female misogynist, who presents here a virtual “How-To Manual” for the amateur wife beater, a self-deprecating narrative of shame over which the worst men in any town can slobber?
My friend, you have now read this column, based on my own sworn testimony. Can you prove that this film doesn’t exist? Perhaps on your way home, a mysterious woman will pass you in the dark, and you will never know it, but she just might be the ghost of director Doris Wishman on her way back to Hell! Many scientists believe that bad movies are being filmed at this very moment. We once laughed at fire, the wheel, gravity, post-synced dialogue, the telephone, the murder ashtray, and the airplane. So much laughter! And now some of us laugh when bad girls go to hell. God help us in the future.