My Year of Flops: The A.V. Club Presents One Man's Journey Deep into the Heart of Cinematic Failure
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In 2007, Nathan Rabin set out to provide a revisionist look at the history of cinematic failure on a weekly basis. What began as a solitary ramble through the nooks and crannies of pop culture evolved into a way of life. My Year Of Flops collects dozens of the best-loved entries from the A.V. Club column along with bonus interviews and fifteen brand-new entries covering everything from notorious flops like The Cable Guy and Last Action Hero to bizarre obscurities like Glory Road, Johnny Cash’s poignantly homemade tribute to Jesus. Driven by a unique combination of sympathy and Schadenfreude, My Year Of Flops is an unforgettable tribute to cinematic losers, beautiful and otherwise.
ushers the pair into a seductive nighttime realm where sex is everywhere, temptation is omnipresent, and elaborately choreographed Broadway-style production numbers are never more than a few minutes away. Bibi quickly falls for a beefcake Boogalow protégé (Allan Love), who woos her in a production number set in hell, with the immortal couplet, “It’s a natural, natural, natural desire / To meet an actual, actual, actual vampire!” Having satiated her natural, natural, natural desires, Bibi can no
dubbed the crazification process. These public-relations disasters echo the scene in Nashville where Gwen Welles’ painfully untalented looker dispiritedly takes off her clothes in a pathetic attempt to punish/win back a crowd by giving them exactly what she thinks they really want. Incidents like these speak to the fundamental hypocrisy at the heart of our culture’s attitude toward sex and exhibitionism: We leer and ogle with impunity, then, once some vague, invisible line has been crossed, turn
intellectual discourse. Withering insults like, “Maybe if you took off your chastity belt, you could breathe a little more better!” vex Mary to the point that she practices a series of equally devastating snaps to hurl Christopher’s way the next she sees him, settling on, “You know, I could breathe a lot easier if the air weren’t so polluted by your presence.” After treating this obnoxious playboy with withering contempt, Mary inexplicably falls in love with him and showers her exotic new lover
exemplar of dignity and grace), who admonishes his slovenly protégé to do the right thing and splurge on dapper duds. It’s a tricky role that borders on Magical Negro territory, but Davis pulls it off with such understated finesse that he makes materialism seem incongruously spiritual, as if getting the right clothes, accessories, and hairstyle are matters of profound moral importance. Joe then ventures deep into Manic Pixie Dream Girl territory. In Los Angeles, Joe meets Graynamore’s eccentric
let me go home.” NR: It seems like one of the reasons people responded to Joe Versus The Volcano was that it had a very clear, unique vision. That seems to scare studios. JPS: It didn’t connect with the broad audience. People went and saw it. It sold some tickets and it had its fans, but it was just a different time, you know? I just did a play, and there was some joke in the play, and before Barack Obama was elected, people laughed at the joke, but after he was elected they stopped, because it