Very few people are aware of this, but PEARL HARBOR isn't just an example of filmmaking at it's finest, it is based on actual events. In the 1940s, a small Southeast Asian country ("Japan") sent squadrons of warplanes to invade a small Polynesian island, which, fortunately, was thwarted by two handsome young best friends and Cuba Gooding, Jr.

Unfortunately, however, the rest of World War II did not go as smoothly, requiring thousands of less handsome young men to join the armed forces and fight overseas. (Over land, too.) This exodus resulted in a massive drain on Hollywood's star power, as evidenced by the remaining stars of the war era: Humphrey Bogart, who was only four feet tall, and Bette Davis, who strongly resembled a vampire bat, even in good light. The loss of much of the city's established talent also extended behind the camera, as evidenced by the caliber of films produced in the early years of the war: CITIZEN KANE: Trash. CASABLANCA: Awful. BAMBI: Degenerate filth.

Oh, sure, nearly every professional critic in existence hails them as genius. These people are, in reality, not the drooling, sycophantic, syphilis-ridden, inbred, rodent-molesting, tax-evading, elf porn enthusiasts that they appear to be, but are, rather, perpetuating an old industry practical joke, whereby critics secretly agree to champion an awful film to see how many rubes they can get to agree with them. Then they have a sort of litmus test for parties and social gatherings, whereby if someone pronounces their love of the latest "great" film, one is free to ignore everything he or she says. Unfortunately, critics rarely get invited anywhere, mostly owing to their fondness for jokes like these. Which makes them bitter, which causes them to make up practical jokes. And so it goes.

As it happens, the joke first originated with KANE, a miserable film that audiences at the time hated, and which one critic likened to "the sensation of nearly vomiting," while another compared it to "bad rectal itch." However, a pair of leading film critics had tremendously enjoyed the vicious fight between KANE creator Orson Welles and media magnate William Randolph Hearst, ostensibly the subject of the film, and sought a way to keep the film in the papers. Before long, the whole thing snowballed out of control, and soon cinemas nationwide were filled with gullible folk choking back puke and itching their butts. Not long after, Hearst was dead, Welles exiled from Hollywood, but KANE had somehow gone from "makes you want to eat glass" to "the greatest film of all time."

There was an upside to the war, though, since Hollywood finally had something to do besides make movies about sad people covered in dust and grime who die. That's right: There was a war to trivialize! Now they could make movies about strapping young men who go off to Europe and Asia to die!

Before you could say "blitzkrieg," Hollywood was cranking out war films with titles like THE FEROCIOUS FIGHTING WINGS OF FURIOUS FURY, and GOSH, NAZIS! None of them were very good, but that was all right, because there was no one to around to watch them. All the men were overseas, all the women busy working in factories, and all the children off walking uphill in the snow to school. But Hollywood kept the cinemas filled with the likes of THE FIGHTING SEABEES, because it was their patriotic duty, and because, otherwise, John Wayne would hit them.

Then, just as suddenly as it had begun, which was not at all really, the war ended. The Germans surrendered, followed by the Japanese, and, curiously, the Norwegians, who were probably bored and just needed something to do. As it happened, so were a lot of Americans, who quickly tired of ticker-tape parades and relentless procreation. A great boredom fell over the country, and Hollywood as well. With nothing better to do, and no more easy war-related plots to crank out, the studios once again returned to their favorite subject: depressed people who die. The French called it "Film Noir," the studios called it "buying scripts on the cheap from hard-core alcoholics." Audiences, desperate for something besides CITIZEN KANE to watch, lapped it up, and all producers had to do was come up with a title using pair a form of DEATH/DEAD/DYING with DARK, KILLER, MURDER or NIGHT and a preposition. DEATH IN THE NIGHT. MURDER UNDER THE DARK. DEATH TO THE LEFT OF THE NIGHT. DEAD KILLER IN THE DYING NIGHT OF DEATH.

See? It's easy! Try it yourself. Good! Now you're fully qualified to be a studio executive. Overqualified, actually. We're going to have to let you go. I'm sorry. Please give your keys to Nancy on the way out.

Next time, in the History of Bad Movies: Corman! Wood! Shatner! Uh oh...

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