In my ongoing quest to find the World's Worst Movie, I thought I'd found a new hero: Albert Zugsmith. Sex Kittens Go To College and Private Lives of Adam and Eve were awful in new, interesting, and creative ways. You can't actually debase actors like Woo Woo Grabowski, Mickey Rooney, and Martin Milner; you put them on the same set, give them a little freedom to create, and let them surprise you with their creativity in making you want to crawl under porch with the brown recluse spiders and whimper.
So I was sure that College Confidential would complete the set: "C" -list actors, a fresh shipment of tight sweaters for the goils, hot rods and sexual frustration for the guys, and a solemn promise in the promos to deliver hot thrills you KNOW Zugsmith couldn't make good on.
Big mistake. There's a difference between making a fool of yourself and publicly humiliating yourself. In College Confidential, at the height of his career, Steve Allen publicly humiliates himself.
Many people don't know that in later life, he became enough of an expert on the Bible to have several serious books of commentary published in hardcover. Perhaps, years later, it was waking up at three AM in a cold sweat from remorseful nightmares about College Confidential that turned Steve Allen's face to the Lord. We'll never know.
I DO know is that this is the first bad film I couldn't finish (although I got through Plutonium Baby only by walking out for twenty minutes in the middle). When the grim inevitability of the Spiked Punch Scene became clear, I turned off the VCR, got a bowl of Apple Cinnamon Cheerios, wandered out to the darkened balcony, and thought about Death for an hour. Then I felt better.
So I was sure that College Confidential would complete the set: "C" -list actors, a fresh shipment of tight sweaters for the goils, hot rods and sexual frustration for the guys, and a solemn promise in the promos to deliver hot thrills you KNOW Zugsmith couldn't make good on.
Big mistake. There's a difference between making a fool of yourself and publicly humiliating yourself. In College Confidential, at the height of his career, Steve Allen publicly humiliates himself.
Many people don't know that in later life, he became enough of an expert on the Bible to have several serious books of commentary published in hardcover. Perhaps, years later, it was waking up at three AM in a cold sweat from remorseful nightmares about College Confidential that turned Steve Allen's face to the Lord. We'll never know.
I DO know is that this is the first bad film I couldn't finish (although I got through Plutonium Baby only by walking out for twenty minutes in the middle). When the grim inevitability of the Spiked Punch Scene became clear, I turned off the VCR, got a bowl of Apple Cinnamon Cheerios, wandered out to the darkened balcony, and thought about Death for an hour. Then I felt better.