WHEN WORSE COMES TO WORST
Late March. The Dauphin is sitting around the office of Nick D., film distributor. Just another afternoon on Eighth Avenue. The Dauph’s red-rimmed eyes travel the walls of the neatly appointed room, taking in posters of the movies Nick has foistered upon an unsuspecting public.
WHEN WORSE COMES TO WORST
The World’s Worst Film Festival
CREEMEDIA
by Edouard Dauphin
Late March. The Dauphin is sitting around the office of Nick D., film distributor. Just another afternoon on Eighth Avenue. The Dauph’s red-rimmed eyes travel the walls of the neatly appointed room, taking in posters of the movies Nick has foistered upon an unsuspecting public. Stateline Motel. Teenage Hitch-Hikers. Invasion Of The Blood Farmers.
Seeing the last poster, Edouard has his customary mild heart seizure. Was this film really his introduction to the Wild Wild World of Hollywood Screenwriting? Scanning the ad copy linfe, he shudders with embarrassment. “Dotst eat before you see this movie—and you’ll have nothing to lose!” The key to Nick D.’s success: truth in advertising.
The phone rings. Nick answers it.
The caller is the promoter of The World’s Worst Film Festival, set to screen 21 of the most abysmal achievements in Hollywood history, at the Beacon Theatre in a few weeks. He wants Blood Farmers to open the festival. But first he wants to know: is the picture really that bad? Is it truly the worst film in the history of American cinema?