Champagne and Bullets

Ok...so...there is "bad, just bad", and THEN there is "so bad, it's great!".

And then? There is "Champagne And Bullets".

So much has already been-said regarding this "thing" (under ANY of its titles. "Geteven" or "Road To Revenge" or "C and B" as it stands here. My guess? DeHart will wait ANOTHER 10 years, and re-release/re-cut the re-cut of a re-cut...again (forgetting that age-progression occurs in humans) and maybe call the 4th incarnation: "How I Made Out With a Playboy Centerfold, GotAway With It, on My Road To Revenge, With Wings Hauser and a Wooden Indian".

The film is a NEIL BREEN-style masterwork.

So inept (I mean..."The Shimmy Slide" MUST be on everyone's Playlist in your car. Pamela Bryant collecting a check that HAD to be more than Hugh Hefner offered. And Wings. Oh, Wings Hauser! Who turns in the performance of a LIFETIME. Like the crazy drunk sister you have (or I have) that you DON'T want to invite over for Thanksgiving Dinner...but kinda-gotta. Just for the ability to laugh at the idiocy on display.

No. I won't waste your time with "plot" (who truly cares?) as there really isn't one.

No. I won't waste your time with "auteur-editing" in its infancy. (There isn't any).

No. I won't explain the "great soundtrack". (Because this tripe makes ANYTHING done by Neil Young...even at his worst (which is hard for him to be)...sound like Whitney Houston).

THIS FILM? Simply is one you HAVE to see to believe.

To believe in 2 things: HOW IN THE WORLD did John DeHart get both Pamela Bryant and Wings Hauser to be in it? AND with William Smith (another great character actor) to show up (incoherently, I might add) as well.

To simply GET(EVEN) this "thing" made? Is a testament to itself. And something (especially for "bad movie lovers") to behold and give mad props to.

Irwin Allen made BAAAAAAD movies (See: "The Swarm" or "When Time Ran Out...") Yet Irwin always had a massive budget and could rake in the stars with a phone call.

Neil Breen makes (still does) BAAAAAD movies. He does it on NO budget (which is readily-evident) and can't even hire a "known stripper from Las Vegas Blvd" to appear in his mush.

Coleman Francis made BAAAAAAD movies. (But his were MST3K fodder).

Yet JOHN DeHART...The Man, the Myth, The Legend, himself...made such a ridiculous spectacle here that it simply MUST BE SEEN, to be believed.

I give it...TEN STARS **********

Not Outsider Art, whichever title you go with ('Geteven', 'Champagne and Bullets', or 'Road To Revenge' - Indeed, this warranted 2 rereleases, the thinking seemingly is, 'The marketing's in the title; we just gotta find the right one'), so strap in. Nudity and bootscootin''s the future of nonsense ...

There's a whole category of mostly subterranean movies in which some schmoe who's had delusions of grandeur his whole life spent his savings to bankroll a vanity project starring (and often writtten/directed/produced by) himself. The most famous example is of course Tommy Wiseau's "The Room," which actually managed to become a cult phenomenon. A few others have gained a little notoriety among seekers of camp gold, and there's a sort of subgenre in which some guy apparently thought "I must be the next Bruce Lee!" because he's the star of his local karate studio, never realizing that "block of wood" isn't just something to hand-chop, but the way his acting would be described. But most such films languish in obscurity, because they were perceived as too amateurish for release initially, then were entirely forgotten.

This is one of those movies, although I gather some people have actually heard of it. (I hadn't, until now.) It's an excruciatingly dumb, basic hero-vs.-criminal-bad-guys opus, with "You killed the only woman I ever loved" as plot motivation, though it takes quite a while to get to that point. There are scattered professional aspects-the photography is mostly acceptable on a direct-to-video B-flick level-but the script is atrocious and there's a lot of just idiotic filler, particularly in the realm of women with implants going topless for no discernible reason, and Wings Hauser improvising painfully as some kind of Method Nightmare comedic sidekick. But the main issue is writer-director-star-producer John De Hart, whose only screen credit this is-and no wonder. He's 50-ish gent of average looks, in decent shape for his age, but who has all the charisma of a paperweight. He is not an actor, has little apparent personality, and despite all selling of his character as one tough ex-cop hombre, does not demonstrate any particular martial-arts or other physical skills. (We see him use a punching bag several times, which is pretty underwhelming.) Worse by far, he seems to think he can sing-and he sings several vaguely "country" songs he wrote, including a "Shimmy Slide" that occasions the lamest imaginable line-dance accompaniment. Anyway, his singing must be heard...if you can stand it. It's beyond belief. Incredible that someone could be that bad (is he sharp? is he flat? is he even hitting what one would call "notes"?) and have no idea.

Anyway, "GetEven" aka "Road to Revenge" is a little too inept to be consistently hilarious; sometimes it just lays there. But it does have some camp value. William Smith manages to be simultaneously hammy and bored as the chief villain, with his leering thugs including a ringer for Fabio; the women, clearly cast for assets other than "acting ability," are uniformly dreadful; oh, and there are baby-sacrificing Satanists. This is the kind of movie so arbitrary that the latter element, which would tend to take center stage in most stories where it's included, instead plays here as sort of narrative afterthought.

A fun bad movie, but not a great bad movie, or one I'd watch again-hence the 5.

John de Hart wrote, produced, starred, directed, and did the singing and music composition for this "I Love Me" film. And he was a trainwreck at each job, even after 3 reworks. His character is a Mary Sue of course (or whatever the male equivalent is), but ironically when he is onstage at the "bar" singing one of his own songs, he has this cringeworthy "deer in the headlights" look the entire time. Using another of his songs as an overlay also sucks the life and any eroticism out of what should be an exciting scene where the main gets to undress and have fun with a Playboy centerfold. And unlike Neil Breen and Ed Wood films, this movie simply has no charm to create some kind of saving grace. There is no path forward to recommend this in any way.

Why do I do this to myself? Why do I fall for the worst of the worst films? Why haven't I learned? Perhaps it is out of boredom that I feel the need to watch dreck like this, for in the changing landscape of media deconstruction, having seen a list of the best films ever made is on par with seeing the absolute worst films ever made. And frankly, the watching of these two wildly divergent areas of influence brings about an equal appreciation for the greatness and awfulness of a film.

Champagne and Bullets (I refuse to call it the generic Road to Revenge) provides all of the things I look forward to in a horrible film. Bad action sequences, terrible dialogue, bad acting and a lack of self awareness from the person fronting the vanity project. John De Hart made a terrible film and we should all acknowledge this, but damn bless his heart for trying. Unlike the modern "auteurs" who try to make terrible films for social media clout, De Hart set out to make something genuine and sincere. This is why projects like The Room, Fateful Findings, Meltdown and Birdemic are so awesome while the fakes who desperately try to be bad always become forgotten. You need to be sincere to make something like this work and pass through the annals of a humongous media landscape.

The story is impossible to follow. I mean, De Hart is a disgraced cop or something and his ex-partner framed him and is now a judge. Also, this ex-partner is the head of a baby killing cult. You tell me. The action sequences are poorly made and edited, for its laughable anyone would consider De Hart a seasoned fighter. And lets talk about the real star of the film...De Hart's wardrobe. Apparently, his spectacular 80s inspired vibe was all from his own closet. I'm sure this was done to save money, but oh boy his clothes are magnificent. I couldn't get enough of the hip-hop cowboy vibe he was pioneering all the way back in 1993. Thank you Mr. De Hart for bringing us into your little world. I'll end on this note...be sure to have friends and snacks because this movie is tough treading. But damn, you have to give the guy and "A" for effort.