There is a common assumption that a film as a form of art should strive for perfection. This is partially true: films should be technically sound, coherent plot-wise and have a professional, competent cast. In short, they should serve the audience with quality work. However, the idealization of cinematic craftsmanship gives a narrow vision of what high-standard, good films are and can be. One of the greatest purposes of cinema is to produce an emotional response in the viewer, to connect people and create a community. Perhaps the most overlooked genre of film that fulfills these criteria in a way that its much more masterful counterparts fail to do is bad films. And by bad films I mean badfilms. This genre deserves the same love as good films do, because they have something that no other type of films do: aesthetic value without any aesthetic value.
But let me first define what I mean by the term badfilm. Not any bad film can be a badfilm. The most essential criterion here is failed intention. The filmmaker tries to create a melodrama – say about an honest, hard-working, loving man who meets his demise because of his cheating, wretched girlfriend but its poor execution which the said filmmaker does not even realize makes it a lighthearted comedy about a bunch of moronic imbeciles (this is the entirety of Tommy Wiseau’s brilliant stinker “The Room,” if you have not guessed). Badfilms, as scholars John Dyck and Matt Johnson (“Appreciating Bad Art”) argue, have the unexplainable bizarreness factor that no other films do, which seduces the viewer by confusing him. A person watching a badfilm will ask themselves, at least in the beginning of the movie, “Is this actually real or is this a joke?”
The appeal of badfilms lies in their sincerity. Unlike self-aware camp cinema that has an aim to be bad, badfilms are earnest in their attempts to be great. It is the gap between aspiration and execution that creates their charm. “Samurai Cop,” a 1989 buddy cop wannabe action badfilm is still watched and appreciated to this day. Whether it is the giant fake lion head in one of the characters’ offices, the beyond amazing butt-to-butt match cut in the swimming scene, Frank Washington’s cringeworthy face expressions, or the samurai’s dollar store wig in the reshoots, the film is overflowing with questionable film elements. But these very flaws make it a joyous experience for viewers who laugh, wince, and marvel at the sheer audacity of its existence and the pathos of the creators. Watching a badfilm becomes a communal act of celebration where the absurdities conceived from ineptitude are collectively embraced.
Badfilms thus foster a unique form of engagement. Viewers do not passively consume them; they actively participate, such as by shouting “Focus!” and throwing plastic cutlery at the screen during a midnight showing of “The Room.” The cult followings that rise around badfilms prove that these movies offer something many polished masterpieces lack: a sense of personal connection and ownership. People love badfilms not just despite their flaws, but because of them.
From a broader cultural perspective, badfilms undoubtedly democratize cinema. They show that anyone, regardless of budget, professionalism, experience, or even talent, can pick up a camera and make a movie, however “bad” it may turn out. While major studio productions often feel like something that an average person will never be able to pull off, badfilms teach us that filmmaking is a deeply human endeavor. When we watch Ed Wood’s horrendously awkward yet passionate projects like “Plan 9 From Outer Space,” we are witnessing the raw, unfiltered dreams of a cinema-lover who dared to try. Isn’t that, in its own way, just as inspiring as an impeccably crafted masterpiece?
Of course, appreciating bad cinema raises a number of philosophical questions regarding taste, aesthetics and the value of art. But one thing is definite: it takes a knowledgeable viewer to appreciate a badfilm and not judge it through the same lens as good films. So, here is to the badfilms, to the anti-classics, the unintended meta-movies and accidental comedic treasures. They remind us that not everything has to be perfect to be enjoyable, and that sometimes, it is the failures that make a good film, or rather, a true badfilm.
