Stinker Madness - The Bad Movie Podcast Stinker Madness

Its that time of year where we celebrate another year of reviewing and loving bad movies. Each year we count down our individual favorite movies we saw in the last 12 months. If you want to find out exactly which bad movies you should watch right now, this is the episode you'll want to listen to. Can we finally all agree on a #1?

Plus we also countdown our favorite 3 movies released in 2023.

Are you enough of a tough guy verbally to handle how much of a tough guy everyone is in this movie when even the ladies are tough guys? No chance.

"The Rage" is a rollercoaster of a movie, and not necessarily in a good way. Strap in for some truly crazy stunts that will have you gripping the edge of your seat... or maybe just scratching your head in confusion.

Lorenzo Lamas, Gary Busey, and Roy Scheider lead the charge in this adrenaline-fueled thriller, but even their combined star power can't salvage the wreckage of a script that seems to have been cobbled together in a hurry. The dialogue is so melodramatic it borders on unintentional comedy, and not even Busey's trademark wild-eyed intensity can save it.

Sure, there are moments where the action ramps up to heart-pounding levels, with stunts that defy logic and gravity alike. But every time you start to feel the adrenaline kick in, you're rudely yanked back to reality by yet another cringe-worthy set of dialogue.

In the end, "The Rage" is like a souped-up sports car with a faulty engine – it may look flashy on the outside, but once you get behind the wheel, you realize it's headed straight for a cliff.

Hot coeds go to a bowling alley and unlock a poop monster and find death and love in the process.

"Sorority Babes in the Slimeball Bowl-O-Rama" is a delightful romp through the absurd and the outrageous, delivering a unique blend of horror, comedy, and pure camp that is sure to entertain audiences of all tastes. Released in 1987, this cult classic is a testament to the creativity and ingenuity of low-budget filmmaking.

First and foremost, the film's title alone sets the tone for the wild ride viewers are about to embark upon. It promises a mix of sorority shenanigans, grody antics, and the unlikeliest of settings—a bowling alley. And boy, does it deliver! From the moment the opening credits roll, audiences are thrust into a world where anything goes and no joke is too outrageous.

What truly sets "Sorority Babes" apart is its commitment to embracing its B-movie roots with open arms. The practical effects may be cheesy by today's standards, but they're executed with such infectious enthusiasm that it's impossible not to be charmed. From the mischievous imp in a bowling trophy to the gloriously over-the-top finale, every scene is infused with a sense of fun and a knowing wink to the audience.

In the end, "Sorority Babes in the Slimeball Bowl-O-Rama" is a love letter to the spirit of budget filmmaking and the power of embracing the unconventional. It may not be high art, but it's an absolute blast from start to finish—a must-see for fans of cult cinema and anyone looking for a good time at the movies. So grab your popcorn, gather your friends, and prepare to be bowl-o-ramaed!

Its bad. I mean, so, so, so very bad. Like "worst movie of all time discussion" bad.

"Rollerball" (2002) is a cinematic catastrophe of epic proportions. This abomination of a film is a perfect storm of incompetence, delivering an experience so profoundly dreadful that it defies all reason and logic. From its mind-numbingly idiotic plot to its nauseatingly abysmal editing, every aspect of this cinematic disaster screams of ineptitude.

Let's start with the plot—or rather, the lack thereof. Attempting to discern any semblance of coherence or intelligence from the narrative of "Rollerball" is an exercise in futility. It's as if the writers threw darts at a board covered in clichés and assembled whatever they hit. The result is a plot so insanely stupid that it effectively nullifies its own existence. Characters flail about in a sea of nonsensical motivations and contrived conflicts, leaving audiences scratching their heads in bewilderment and frustration.

But the plot is only the tip of the iceberg of incompetence. The editing in "Rollerball" is a masterclass in how not to edit a film. Action sequences, purportedly the film's main draw, are rendered incomprehensible by choppy cuts and frenetic camerawork. Every punch, kick, and jump is shrouded in a haze of confusion, leaving viewers squinting at the screen in vain attempts to discern what is happening. It's a dizzying, disorienting mess that serves only to induce headaches and nausea.

And then there's the infamous night vision sequence—a nauseating descent into visual hell that defies description. This sequence, purportedly intended to add tension and excitement, instead serves as a testament to the filmmakers' complete disregard for their audience's well-being. The frenzied camera movements combined with the sickly green tint of the night vision filter result in a sensory assault of epic proportions, leaving viewers reaching for the nearest barf bag.

As if the technical incompetence wasn't enough, "Rollerball" also boasts a cast whose performances range from forgettable to cringe-worthy. Chris Klein, Rebecca Romijn, and LL Cool J stumble through their lines with all the grace and charisma of cardboard cutouts, their accents veering wildly between inconsistent and outright laughable. It's a parade of mediocrity that only serves to compound the film's myriad failures.

In conclusion, "Rollerball" is unequivocally the worst movie we've ever reviewed. Yes, its a more poorly made and executed that "Mortal Kombat: Annihilation". Its plot is a nonsensical mess, its editing is a nauseating nightmare, and its performances are uniformly terrible. And yet, despite all of its flaws, it remains a must-watch for aficionados of cinematic train wrecks. So gather your friends, stock up on barf bags, and prepare to witness the cinematic equivalent of a dumpster fire. You'll regret every minute of it, but you won't be able to look away.

 Dalton hasn't calmed down much in 35 years but he's gotten a lot more polite when he's punching your nose into your face.

"Roadhouse" (2024) starring Jake Gyllenhaal offers a lukewarm viewing experience that leaves much to be desired. While the action direction from Doug Liman is undeniably thrilling, it's unfortunately overshadowed by a frustratingly lackluster script that feels like a missed opportunity at every turn.

Gyllenhaal steps into the iconic role with commendable effort, bringing his own spin to the character, but ultimately, the script fails to fully utilize his talents. The plot feels disjointed and often veers into the realm of the absurd, leaving audiences scratching their heads rather than fully immersed in the action.

One can't help but compare this rendition to the beloved original, which continues to draw annual viewings from dedicated movie lovers. While the 2024 version has its moments of excitement, it lacks the timeless appeal and depth of its predecessor.

Overall, "Roadhouse" (2024) is not an unenjoyable experience, but it's certainly a one-and-done affair. Viewers may find themselves entertained in the moment, but it's unlikely to leave a lasting impression or inspire repeated viewings.

Rosie O'Donnell does the thing Robert Downey Jr. said never to do and earns all of the internet's hatred...but is it deserved?

"Riding the Bus with My Sister" is a film that falls squarely in the realm of made-for-TV movies, a genre often associated with mediocrity. Yet, within this sea of forgettable productions, this 2005 offering manages to stand out—not necessarily as a shining gem, but certainly as a passable diversion.

On the surface, it's easy to dismiss "Riding the Bus with My Sister" as just another Hallmark Channel movie, known for their often formulaic and saccharine narratives. And while this film does share some of those traits, it also manages to offer moments of genuine warmth and sincerity that elevate it slightly above the typical Hallmark fare.

One of the most notable aspects of the film is Rosie O'Donnell's portrayal of a neuro-divergent character—a choice that has garnered both criticism and praise. It's undeniable that in today's landscape, casting decisions like this would be scrutinized for lacking authenticity and representation. However, it's important to recognize that the fault lies not with O'Donnell herself, but with the industry norms of the time.

The story itself follows familiar beats: estranged siblings reconnecting, personal growth through shared experiences, and the power of acceptance and understanding. While these themes are handled competently, they lack the depth and nuance that could elevate the film to something truly memorable.

In the end, "Riding the Bus with My Sister" is a middling affair, neither deserving of the vitriol it sometimes receives nor the effusive praise from certain quarters. It's a movie that fulfills its modest ambitions without ever truly transcending them. And while it may not be a masterpiece, it serves as a reminder of the limitations and missed opportunities that often characterize made-for-TV productions.