The Bloody Ape (1997) Starring George Reis, Arlene Hansen, Kevin Crocker Directed by Keith J. Crocker Written by Keith J. Crocker & George Reis

In reality, his life after "Plan 9" was not as charming or bittersweet as Tim Burton's "Ed Wood" might lead you to think. Wood died a hopeless alcoholic and spent most of those years writing porno. And in truth, while "Plan 9" was not a good movie, it wasn't that bad.

Take "The Beast of Yucca Flats." It also starred the immortal Tor Johnson, and it sucks much worse than "Plan 9." The movie was filmed silent, to save money, and the terrible dialog was dubbed in poorly afterwards. Apparently the director Coleman Francis couldn't manage or afford enough footage to fill out the paltry 54 minute running time, so some scenes were repeated, over and over. The boring result resembles a home movie filmed in the Arizona desert by a family whose car broke down on the way to Disneyland.

At least "Plan 9" had a certain goofy charm that makes it an enjoyable hoot. After the opening, almost topless rape scene, which was tacked on after filming ended, there is no reason to continue watching "The Beast of Yucca Flats." It's not even "It's so bad it's good" bad. It's just bad.

Which reminds me of "The Bloody Ape." The movie credits Edgar Allen Poe's "Murders in the Rue Morgue" as source material, which makes sense because as we all know, Poe was famous for all the stories he wrote about apes grabbing the tits of chubby Long Island bartenders.

That's the whole plot. Sorry, I should have warned that this review was going to include spoilers. Well there is the whole racism angle, where some nice negro is falsely accused of the ape murders, but really the movie is mainly about hairy tit grabbing. Oh, and a hippie gets his wang ripped off.

Like the "Beast from Yucca Flats," about half the "The Bloody Ape" was filmed silent on 8mm to save money. According to the director, Keith J. Crocker the movie was filmed over the course of a year (just like "Beast") for hundreds of dollars.

Every penny is right up there on the screen. The ape's master, Lampini, spends the movie walking around in a cheap Halloween cape from Wal-Mart and a smashed top hat that looks like it was retrieved from the garbage. I think they spent a larger portion of the budget on the Rabbi's fake beard, they must have actually gone to a Halloween store for that one. And the climatic finale of the movie takes place in the crawlspace of a videostore. Epic.

The end result looks like a bad home movie. A really, really bad home movie.

Which brings me to a larger philosophical point. I am fully supportive of the idea of low-budget independent filmmaking. It's very important in today's environment that people outside of the corporate realm of evil are given a chance to make movies and for those movies to be seen. Sometimes great films have come from desperate people, struggling to find the pitiful funds to complete their dream. Night of The Living Dead. The Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Eraserhead. For every one of those movies that miraculously found the money for post-production costs and actually were distributed, dozens more were shelved and either never finished or never seen.

Digital technology now makes it more possible for more people with a dream to go out and make movies. Distribution is a wash, since direct to video or direct to web alternatives are replacing the drive-ins and grind houses.

But a movie like "The Bloody Ape" raises the question: Just because someone can make a movie, does that mean they should?

I am definitely not saying that Keith J. Crocker should stop making movies. In fact, after making "The Bloody Ape," Crocker made "Blitzkrieg: Escape from Stalag 69," which was reviewed right here recently and which is pretty decent movie. It's clear that something about making "The Bloody Ape" provided fertile training for Crocker.

But I for one, am sick and tired of shitty, beginner's attempts at filmmaking being served up as creditable fare for mass consumption. Most writers start out writing shitty imitations of their favorite authors before they actually write something halfway decent that gets published. They either have the self-awareness to put those early embarrassments away in a drawer or a slush pile editor sends them a well-deserved rejection notice.

Oh sure, there are thousands of self-published novels out there on the internet. But few of those writers are ever going to sell anything. Spending weekends filming a zombie movie in backyards and warehouses with a bunch of friends isn't filmmaking. It's the movie equivalent of vanity publishing.

I'm not upset at Crocker for releasing "The Bloody Ape"; I hope he makes a few bucks off of it so he can continue making movies and improving as a filmmaker. But I'm not going to lie and tell people that this movie was a "gloriously grody testament to fiercely self-reliant, Do -It -Yourself underground cinema" or that it was "The best crazy go-fuckin-nuts movie that I have ever seen!" The assholes who served up those reviews are either witless turds or shameless dick-lickers.

As much as I would like to applaud this movie, I must warn anyone other than the profoundly retarded to avoid it like the come-ons of an ugly truck-stop hooker. And for the profoundly retarded: Funny monkey touch pretty lady boobies! Poopie-poop!