Design a deliberately bad SF movie

Let’s go the Producers route and come up with a sure-fire flop of an SF movie. What features are indispensable to making an SF movie bad? I’ll start with:

Bad Special Effects. Virtually a category all it’s own. Certainly you have to include recycled stock footage from another production, especially distinctive footage that’s immediately recognizable from it’s source. Add in the one-take botched shots that’ll just have to do. If there’s a monster, make sure that it’s not only cheap and fake looking but that you wait until the end of the movie to fully reveal it, highlighting just how cheap and fake looking it is. Use ordinary everyday objects with maybe a little paint and glued additions as props. And substitute poorly done cutaways for actual visual effects.

What next?

Use cuts and shakey-cam to induce epilepsy and nausea, as well as removing the ability to actually follow the action.

Plenty of pretentious high-flown dialogue, with impenetrable made-up technobabble. The villain, in particular, should sound like the bad guy from a bad silent movie melodrama. With much evil laughter.

Imagine Starship Troopers with stop-motion rubber monsters and shaky cam action.

Or just imagine Starship Troopers as is. Or Battlefield Earth. Both could arguably be said to be deliberately bad SF movies.

The good guys have to win suddenly at the end by reversing the polarity on an alien/mad science machine, thereby causing a change in effect so far beyond the realm of physics that it couldn’t be seen with the Hubble Telescope.

At the end of the movie, the marooned hero turns out to be… Adam!

Casting: all major roles should be entrusted to the family and friends of the producer. “Should we entrust these parts to experienced ‘A’ or ‘B’ list actors with track record and box office pull?” “Nah. Waste of money. My golfing buddy Jack says he’s been thinking of getting into acting… let him take a crack at it. Hey, and that girl at Starbucks, she’s cute and I bet she’d love to do a movie.”

Music: the soundtrack should consist entirely of the most obvious, cliched and endlessly recycled music we can think of, including (appallingly edited) montages set to ‘Hallelujah’, ‘The Final Countdown’ and ‘Heard It On The Grapevine’. These and all other selections are to be included because we feel like it, not because of any thematic relationship to what’s on screen at the time. The tracks we use do not need to be consistent or compatible in any manner. The ‘70s funk’ sequence can slip right in next to the ‘30s swing’ sequence with no trouble at all. This is art, there are no rules. We must also fail to address the need to secure international copyright clearance for all the music we use, thus triggering interminable legal wrangles that stop the film from ever actually being shown. Eventually, we put the movie out as it is but with all the music removed, this being the only legal way to get it shown. What do we replace the missing music with? Nothing. Just silence.

Characters: we proceed on the basis that a character is just someone who speaks lines and does whatever the plot requires at any given moment. No character will have any depth, background, motivation, consistency or appeal of any kind, nor will it be possible for any audience to care what happens to them. We ignore the possibility that action should be in any way related to motivation, which in turn we regard as irrelevant to movie-making. It is perfectly okay for a character to contradict what he or she said five minutes earlier. It’s a movie, not a psychoanalysis seminar.

Plot: we proceed on the basis that a plot is just making sure the explosions and exciting bits come up roughly every seven minutes. There can be quieter, talky stuff in between, but it isn’t important except insofar as it leads to the next thing that blows up. Note: things that blow up are cool, but it’s even better if the characters are running towards the camera and then the thing blows up behind them, hurling them to the ground, and we show this in slo-mo.

Science: science is whatever we want it to be. If it’s convenient for our hero to go back in time, then he pushes a button on a ‘Backwards in time’ gizmo. End of analysis. The ‘fiction’ bit of ‘science fiction’ means we can do what the hell we want. We’re selling popcorn, not giving a physics lecture. It’s possible if we say it is. By the way, speaking of time travel, it does not give rise to any paradoxes or complications whatsoever. Because we say so.

History: see ‘Science’ above. It’s fine to refer to historical events, but remember history is whatever we say it is. If we say Lincoln had nuclear weapoons, then he had nukes. End of analysis. A few bonehead critics will make a fuss, but we just point to the ‘-fiction’ bit at the end of ‘science fiction’ and we win the argument.

Wardrobe: everyone knows that science fiction means shiny silver space suits and stretchy one-piece outfits in eye-catching Spandex. There is no reason to buck this trend, especially if we can get a hottie actress to wear something very tight, stretchy and skimpy.

Aliens: we don’t want to throw money away needlessly. Someone is an alien if we say they are. The fact that they look exactly like a normal person is not a problem. If we really want to go the extra mile, dab them with some powder that’s green or blue or something. This is more than enough to convey the idea that he’s an alien. Saves a lot of time as well.

•It should strive for Relevance. Especially to some social or political that’s either going to become moot very shortly, or isn’t going to be looked at in the same favorable light in coming years, so it’ll become hilariously dated as fast as possible.

But, most importantly—especially as the former points are hard to pull off, in practice—it needs to botch being relevant. Being as ham fisted, ill-thought out, or just plain incompetently told and acted. If the villains of the film quickly become cult “heroes” that hipsters and/or geeks put on t-shirts, the process worked.

•At least One Astonishingly Glaring Scientific or Technical Error. Glaring to the point of infamy, or being iconic. And I don’t mean something like “engine and weapon noises in the vacuum of space” or “laser drill violating the conservation of energy.” It has to be out of the ordinary, and obviously and hilariously wrong to anyone with even a passing grasp of high school science.

I’m a bit groggy ATM, so few clever examples are coming to mind…but “sun setting in the wrong direction”-level mistakes should do the trick. (See also: Critical Research Failure. And kiss your day goodbye.)

Adapt the screenplay from a novel that is not especially well known to the general public, but that does have a large, devoted cult fan following. (Bonus points if the novel is from a deceased author who has long resisted turning her/his novel into a film/miniseries.)

Throw out pretty much every concept from the book except some token well-known bits.

Insert your own radically different themes & meanings into the story.

Delete most of the minor characters from the book and swap in annoying new characters who the producers are certain will ‘attract desirable demographic groups.’

Completely re-write the story so that it is virtually unrecognizable from the source material.

Cast all roles with actors entirely wrong for the parts they portray.

When the core fan group (who presumably are the ones expected to line up for tickets) start howling on the internet about all the changes that are occurring, have the producers issue a statement that this “small minority of the fan base” are a bunch of crybabies, and insist that even if the movie isn’t a “literal” interpretation of the book, the film is faithful to “the spirit” of the book.
This recipe can work for any genre BTW.

Hire Michael Bay to direct. If he’s not available, then use Paul Verhoeven.

Don’t let anyone involved in the production ever read any SF books.

…would filming in Bronson Cave be a prerequisite, or these days would it just be automatically nostalgic and funny?

Star Wars VII.

without basing it on Timothy Zahn’s novels.

Consider making the villains ridiculous straw men (e.g., seeking to pollute the environment as an end in itself) or making your “relevant” conflict absurd under the circumstances (e.g., the characters in Independance Day wringing their hands over whether to use nuclear weapons against a fleet of city-sized alien ships, against which using anything less should obviously be pointless, and which are already themselves razing cities and slaughtering millions.

Sterling examples of this can be found in the films of Italian director Luigi Cozzi (aka “Lewis Coates”), such as the previously mentioned Starcrash, where the characters are warned that the temperature of the planet they’re visiting “drops millions of degrees” at night. Operating on a different plane entirely is the magnificently head-scratching moment in Hercules II, where a character is said to have avoided her prophesized death because “her destiny was scientifically altered!”

STEP 1

Hire a 20 year old Maxim or FHM pinup girl to play a Ph. D in Physics.

Have the smartest person in the world be a teenage computer whiz. No matter how vexing and superior the alien technology is, no matter how many dozens of wizened research scientists are working to defeat it, the solution is only found by a kid in his basement typing away at his laptop. No one else.

Also, the big bad alien boss, lets call him Unex, is tens of millions of years old, subjected thousands of civilizations across the galaxy, but cannot stand up to some plucky youngsters who learn the true meaning of love over the course of their adventure.

And the spaceships should look like something audiences can relate to. Like modern passenger aircrafts. Only more alieny

Add a healthy dose of deus ex machina.

Steve Martin’s Bowfinger is the definitive how-to.

“Was it normal rain, or was it… Chubby Rain?”

Remember, this is a motion picture so we need to have lots of iconic images.

At a bare minimum this consists of stereotyped character representations. So the head scientist should be an older, distinguished-looking, pipe-smoking male. His assistant should be an incredibly hot young female. We also need a blustery general to complicate the action. And a wise-cracking guy with a Brooklyn accent, just because.

If we have a little bigger budget, we can move to iconic images. The alien planet, for example, should look just like Earth. If we’re up against human-like hostile aliens, they should all be dressed in Nazi-style uniforms. Monster-type aliens should never be seen in the first half of the movie – an ominous shadow indicates their presence. When finally revealed, an alien monster should be at least 50 times bigger than the largest human.

There should also be at least one glaring production error, such as a panoramic shot of the alien planet with telephone lines in the distance, or a prehistoric alien wearing a wedding ring.