There it is, my TV and Film Wednesday confession. I absolutely adore truly terrible Science Fiction. Usually only movies in all honesty, because books and TV shows require a little too much emotional commitment for them to be bad. I can’t spend that much energy on something brain-suckingly awful.
So, here’s the thing. I love Science Fiction in general. I love space. I have two t-shirts with pictures of UFOs on them. I have read more books about Blade Runner than anybody ever should. I study it, I live it, I watch it. But there is something really satisfying about horribly bad Sci-Fi. I eat it all up. If I feel a little down, I go on sites on the Internet where people have compiled lists of the worst Sci-Fi movies. I go for the lowest rated alien movies on Netflix. I will buy any DVD with green wiggly writing on the front which says “____ FROM OUTER SPACE!” and it is guaranteed to make me feel better about everything.
I am very serious about movies, generally. Science Fiction is one of my favourite genres in literature, TV and film and on the whole, I take it extremely seriously. I love learning about Sci-Fi in relation to politics or history, its impact on our world, how it reflects our fears as a nation or a planet. How what country the film is from will entirely affect its plot based on their fears. I have the director’s cut of Blade Runner with the 5 different versions and I once spent one Christmas Eve alone watching two of those side by side and making notes on the differences. However.
I love movies, like Zeta One or Barbarella, which depend certainly in part if not wholly on the fact that there are exposed boobs in them. Anything with stock UFO sound effects. I love The Man Who Fell to Earth because it tries so desperately to be artsy and important, but nothing has ever made me laugh more than cookies flying through the air and David Bowie’s tiny penis. I love 50s Sci-Fi, B-Movies, anything that you can buy for less than a pound in a Brighton second-hand store.
So that is my confession. It isn’t much, but maybe the fact that I am a person who watches terrible movies about races of women from outer space to make herself feel better will help you to understand me more.
Or maybe not.