A ticket to a bad movie marathon
I’m thinking of hosting a festival screening the worst movies filmed in Stamford.
Granted, most people would prefer quality Stamford cinema, but that version wouldn’t last long enough to reach the bottom of a kid-sized tub of popcorn.
I’m inspired by Netflix shooting “The Good Nurse” in Stamford’s streets, starting Eddie Redmayne as a mass murderer. Stamford is at least a better option than Greenwich, which has a shaky record of solving murders.
It’s been a spell since Connecticut flirted with a “Hollywood East” handle after luring filmmakers with generous film tax credits 15 years ago.
Back then it was hard to walk through Stamford without drifting onto a set. There was a respectable roster of bold-faced names (Robert DeNiro, John Travolta, Uma Thurman, Robin Williams, Anne Hathaway, Leonardo Di Caprio, Maya Rudolph). There were Oscar-winning directors, such as Sam (“American Beauty”) Mendes and Barry (“Rain Man”) Levinson. The buzz was buzzing. There were even a few good movies, such as Mendes’ “Revolutionary Road” and Jonathan Demme’s “Rachel Getting Married.”
I’d salute Mr. DeNiro at the first Stamford Bad Movie Marathon (STAMBAMM), as he is without peer in this category. The two-time Oscar winner not only filmed three stinkers within months of each other in Stamford, but also planted some Rotten Tomatoes (a tepid 7 percent on the tomatometer) in Greenwich with “The Big Wedding” in 2013.
DeNiro’s Trilogy of Shame, though, came with “What Just Happened” and “Righteous Kill” in 2008 and “Everybody’s Fine” in 2009.
“What Just Happened” didn’t have the dignity to get the punctuation right in its own title. Even Bruce Willis wasn’t convincing in it, and he played “Bruce Willis.”
“Everybody’s Fine,” which has a climax on Christmas Day, fared so poorly at the box office that it managed to close Christmas Eve.
And “Righteous Kill” used a model residence in the Building Formerly Known as Trump Parc to disguise Stamford as NYC. It was the stiffest Trump performance since “Home Alone 2: Lost in New York.”
Stamford has played other parts as well. During the 2021 Pizza Wars with New Jersey, it feels like a hot oil pie in the face to be reminded that the City that Works portrayed the Garden State in “Confessions of a Shopaholic.”
As a character actor, Stamford’s finest showing came in Elia Kazan’s “Boomerang” in 1947, when it portrayed Bridgeport (and the Stamford Advocate and its staff played their Bridgeport Post counterparts).
Stamford’s reel troubles hail back to 1964, when “The Horror of Party Beach,” justifiably earned a reputation as one of the worst movies ever. Among its many lowlights is that a group of wannabe Hell’s Angels bikers are played by the Charter Oak Motorcycle Club, who rolled in from the mean streets of Riverside.
Intrigued? Take a break and watch the movie at bit.ly/336LMo5. I’ll wait, since you won’t last long.
Still game for more? Even DeNiro didn’t deliver a howler like “Old Dogs,” which was nominated for four Golden Raspberries, has a rating of 5 percent on the
I’d salute Mr. DeNiro at the first Stamford Bad Movie Marathon (STAMBAMM), as he is without peer in this category. The two-time Oscar winner not only filmed three stinkers within months of each other in Stamford, but also planted some Rotten Tomatoes (a tepid 7 percent on the tomatometer) in Greenwich with “The Big Wedding” in 2013.
tomatometer, and inspired reviews limited to “Woof.”
I was city editor when “Old Dogs” was shooting at the Palace Theatre on Sept. 19, 2007. Our photo editor decided to check out the scene. As we discussed it, I saw an editorial assistant across from me suddenly appear, well, starstruck.
“Are you OK?”
She explained that John Travolta was her favorite movie star, and how many times she had seen “Grease” with her mom and ...
“Fine,” I surrendered, though it was against my better judgment. “Go with him and take notes. Keep it professional.”
She was not a reporter, so we offered basic tips. A small crowd was forming outside the theater. Co-star Seth Green gave our rookie a tip: Robin Williams would hustle into the theater while Travolta wouldn’t be able to resist greeting fans.
It went exactly according to script. Our correspondent got a 140-word article and the memory of a lifetime.
At the time, it made me realize the excitement that could be stirred by glimpses of America’s last great export industry — entertainment. A few months later, we were in an editorial board meeting with then Mayor Dannel Malloy. For the sake of this scene, he’ll be portrayed by Stephen Colbert, minus any enthusiasm.
Me: “I get the sense you’re not on board with these film productions?”
Malloy: “I just don’t see what they’re doing for us.” I offered counterpoints, but it was a reminder to do what movies literally challenge us to do: Consider the bigger picture. During an investigation a few years later we found that the tax credits were routinely lining the pockets of brokers who helped visiting productions trade them to Connecticut companies. The rainbow’s glow had faded. It was like finding out the munchkins formed the Lollipop Guild over exploitative working conditions.
In time, the tax credits dwindled, along with the mania for movie-making in the area, even as University of Connecticut and Sacred Heart University wisely expanded film and TV production offerings.
Maybe those students can reboot Hollywood East with better scripts. And if the sequel turns out to be even worse than the original, all the better for my next fest.