You’re Tearing Me Apart, Lisa: The Fan Culture of Cult Movies and Everything that

Makes Them So Bad, They’re Good

We as a society value the best and brightest of the storied history of

humankind. This applies even more so to popular culture; that’s what makes it

popular, after all. The Hot 100 hits and box office lists give a structured visual hint

as to what makes us tick as a mass-media imbibing culture. However, not everything

can please the consumer and eventually the blockbuster hits give way to

blockbuster bombs. In the midst of embarrassing screenings and scathing reviews,

there is a saving grace of inherently terrible movies: the cult movie fan. This sub-

genre of movies so bad, they’re good instigated the subculture of cult movie fans

that live for the worst of the worst. This paper will investigate this group of movie

fans: how unintentional humor, camp, and cult stars win them over and form this

basis of a media-driven subculture in both the modern era and of decades past.

So what makes a movie gain “cult” status? The concept of a cult has often

been defined by a small following of extreme ideals by devout individuals, usually

led by a fanatical figurehead of the whole operation. If we replace the figurehead in

this equation with a movie with extreme, possibly ridiculous plot devices, acting,

etc., the formulae for a “cult” movie begins to take hold. Various academics and

scholars have attempted to define the concept of a cult movie, but James Morrison,

in his book Passport to Hollywood: Hollywood Films, European Directors, is able to

provide a precise summary of both cult films and their fan base by defining them

against the mainstream:

A “cult” film is one that divides its audiences in terms of the kinds of

pleasures it affords them. Refusing to produce the usual cinematic pleasure

of mastery, the “cult” film typically excludes viewers whose responses are

limited to that pleasure, “punishing” those viewers for such limitation by

reveling in its own vulgarity or badness, or by systematically refusing the

imperatives of classical narration, denying narrative climaxes, or heightening

them to such a frantic degree that they cease to function… The target viewer

of the “cult film” is one who delights in such punishment. (254)

The followers of these cult movies are the integral part of this structure, as they give

a position of power to the failed movie. Aspects of subcultural theory apply to these

members of the cult movie crowd. For one, most subcultures get their start as

“spaces for deviant cultures to renegotiate their position or to win space for

themselves” (Barker 430). This was born out of a rejection of the middle class and

an embrace of working class values for groups like the skinheads and punks.

Rebellion against the average and mundane brought their members together and

gave them something to fight for. Fan culture of cult movies isn’t inherently deviant

in nature, but the same rules apply: a rejection of average standards of what

constitutes a good movie in favor for a lower grade, usually small budget movie that

they can rally around. As subcultures grew, developed and fragmented over the

years, they soon began to form around media and pop cultures, which is where

fandoms and fan cultures were started. This began a movement away from the

rebellious attitudes of early subcultures into the more inclusive and fluid modern

era of post-subcultures. This does not mean that rebellion from normalcy cannot

exist in the 21st century, it just means that there is less of it than there used to be,

which is why cult followings are so small to begin with. In fact, cult movie subculture

can be defined against the mass media due to the appreciation of movies in the

sphere of “paracinema,” or the trash of cinema, that others consider to be offensive,

in poor taste, or just plain stupid. In a way, there is a level of bricolage of which most

style based subcultures employ to their overall ethos. Much like the way that punk

will appropriate certain aesthetics of trash into their overall image, the cult movie

fan takes the trash of cinema and movies outside the mainstream and makes it their

own:

The caustic rhetoric of paracinema suggests pitched battle between a guerilla

band of cult viewers and an elite cadre of would-be taste makers. Certainly,

the paracinematic audience likes to see itself as a disruptive force in the

cultural and intellectual marketplace” (Cartmell, Hunter, Kaye, Whelehan 67).

This brings up an interesting point within the tenets of cult film fans. They watch

these films that are considered bad beyond all measure and apply their own

meaning and interpretation behind them. As mentioned earlier, this certainly makes

for punk ideals within the fabric of cult film subculture. The cult film fan thrives in

the negative reception of the films that define their fandom, and with that fandom

comes a sense of camaraderie with others who feel the same way about these films

as they do. This brings forward an interesting point within the cult movie subculture

which sets it apart from the general mainstream movie subculture: an emphasis on

community and support for the trash of mainstream cinema.

Perhaps the best-known example of a cult movie and the fans of that movie is

the phenomenon of The Rocky Horror Picture Show. Gatherings to watch the movie

in public have been going on for years, but it is the aspect of audience activity that

sets these screenings apart from any other in recent memory. Since showings of

Rocky Horror became popularized, most cult films with a large fan base adapted

aspects of its stage show, including dressing as characters, talking back and

interacting with the movie, as well as dancing and singing within the rows of the

auditorium. Fans of Rocky Horror and other cult films engaged themselves in a form

of textual poaching of the original film, which is another form of bricolage in a

subculture. They were remaking the film within the fan community, evoking the

environment of midnight screenings of cult films that were

Distinctly communal spaces in which the audience would often chat, drink,

sometimes smoke pot, and occasionally shout things at the screen. Such

visible text-audience encounters could be observed to note how cult cinema

offered an alternative to ‘normal’ consumption, just as fans’ active behaviors

could be contrasted to the consumption of ‘ordinary’ consumers (Mathjis,

Sexton 58).

Once more, there is a heavy emphasis on fan community and appropriation in cult

cinema, which in and of itself is defined through its fanbase. The activities that the

cult film subculture takes part in is very much a way of challenging the status quo of

mainstream film, and this is obvious, but there are personal reasons behind a lot of

what is going on here in this subculture. Fans are a “conspicuous segment of the

film’s identity: they have been active in resurrecting it from commercial oblivion

and have kept it culturally alive” (Mathjis, Sexton 59). This is one of the redeeming

qualities for an actor or director in a cult film: the fan culture surrounding a cult

movie is so rich and full of enthusiasm for one movie in particular that it reignites

interest and attention for the films that would otherwise be refused their legitimacy.

This is due to the “role of taste and the effect of aesthetic discrimination… Dominant

notions of cinematic aesthetics have been installed and defended on the basis of the

assumed excellence of taste of a relative few privileged journalists and critics,

appealing to canons and principles of art in general” (Cartmell, Hunter, Kaye,

Whelehan 68). With so many critiques on what to watch and what to avoid

completely in mainstream cinema, it removes the possibility of films in paracinema

to be seriously studied, analyzed, and enjoyed. All of these qualities are exhibited by

the cult film subculture which gives these films something that so many others did

not: something as simple as a chance to entertain. Many films in the cult cinema

sphere have received this treatment, which in turn generates media attention if the

following becomes enough of a spectacle, and as with most instances, any publicity

is good publicity.

It would be pertinent to mention just exactly how crowds are drawn to

eventual cult classics in the first place. First and foremost, very rarely do films ever

market themselves as “cult” from the outset. It is a very loaded word that brings

with it certain presumptions about a film before it can be rightfully deemed “cult” by

its following. Most of the marketing that goes into pitching an eventual cult film to

an audience is often poorly thought-out and misleading at worst. The most historic

example of this would be the title of the movie Troll 2, which had absolutely nothing

to do with the 1986 Empire Pictures film Troll, a relatively successful fantasy film.

As a matter of fact, Troll 2 features no trolls whatsoever, but goblins (Nilbog! It’s

Goblin spelled backwards!), which shows an obvious marketing attempt to draw in

audiences who were familiar with the original Troll. Besides this, a trend associated

with marketing cult cinema is attention-grabbing tactics that challenge and dare the

viewer to watch a certain movie; a build-up of an urban legend of sorts. This tactic

has its beginnings in entertainment marketing, with cult films learning “from circus,

vaudeville, burlesque theater, sideshows and roadshows how to attract audiences’

attention,” and in many cases “the distinction between carefully planned strategy,

disciplining effort, and accident become completely blurred into the kind of legends

cults are known for” (Mathijs, Sexton 30-1). Structuring a cult classic plays very

much into how it will first be perceived by audiences. It is an integral part for the

success and fame of such films by rousing marketing campaigns that present a film

the likes of which you have never seen. It must be done in this way because the

word “cult” carries with it the stigma of paracinema. Furthermore, labeling your film

as cult should be left to the press and fans because there is a hesitancy to accept said

film as cult that stems from preconceived notions from the cult subculture of what a

cult film is: a happy mistake.

The Room is a drama film released in 2003, which was directed by and

starring the now infamous Tommy Wiseau. Since then it has been pegged as one of

the worst movies of all time and the movie soared into cult status for it’s awkward

acting and flimsy narrative. The Room’s initial box office run brought in a little over

$1,800 dollars in it’s limited Californian release which doesn’t even dent the colossal

6 million dollar budget that Wiseau gained independently in order to get his

magnum opus off the ground (Sestero, Bissell). Despite this, the painfully horrible

film was still able to garner enough attention to catch the eye of mass media.

Currently, sold-out screenings of The Room go on tour in major cities with crowd

interaction not unlike that of The Rocky Horror Picture Show while Tommy Wiseau

takes on the figure of a cult hero. Because of the tremendous outpouring of praise

for The Room as an unintentional comedic masterpiece, Wiseau has since come out

to say that he intended his film to be a dark comedy rather than the serious

dramatic piece that it was originally billed as. Whereas most subcultures as

underground as cult movie fans would revel in the negative media coverage that a

majority of films in the genre would receive, fans of The Room embrace the hybrid

notoriety/celebration that the film and Wiseau have garnered. This is because

subcultures are always “inside” the media; “they are dependent on the media, even

as they wish to deny it” (Barker 448). Had the media and fellow industry members

like comedians Tim Heidecker and Eric Wareheim, Patton Oswalt, and actor James

Franco not sung the praises of this disaster of a feature film, The Room would not

nearly be as popular today. Tommy Wiseau would have faded into the ether as just

another failed directorial debut of independent film. The saving grace of this film

has been the waves of reaction from pop culture at large and Wiseau’s embrace of

the failed project along with his madcap and almost alien persona that has been

documented in subsequent media appearances and the tell-all memoir of the film’s

production, The Disaster Artist: My Life Inside the Room, by co-star Greg Sestero. The

book has gained a lot attention itself because of the insatiable hunger of any insider

information of how the enigma of The Room came into production. As of today, the

book has been slated to be adapted into a motion picture with James Franco

directing after Seth Rogan’s production company, Point Gray Pictures, purchased

the rights to the book. There are times in cinematic history where directors and

actors can leverage their campy and hodge-podge films into stardom. Tommy

Wiseau is just one of these examples, but there is a structure to how one can achieve

cult stardom and it depends on fan reaction and the willingness of those involved

with the film to embrace that fan reaction.

To fully understand this, it would be pertinent to understand what makes a

director or actor a cult celebrity, but before that can happen, we should pull back to

examine the two words, “cult celebrity,” and how they relate and supplement one

another. Admiration for celebrities of all kinds has been around well before film and

cinematography. Franz Liszt incited frenzy and hysteria amongst his fans during his

piano recitals as early as 1841, coining the term “Lisztomania;” a precursor to

Beatlemania and every other fanatical celebrity following. There are undoubtedly

cultic aspects of stardom due to the “religious dimensions of celebrity,” and “clichés

about the apotheosis and the cult of the dead and immortal god in popular culture”

(Frow 1167). You only need to look as far as the legend of Elvis and the myths

following his death to understand that. But “cult celebrity” and cultic fans of a

celebrity are two entirely different notions. True, both rely somewhat on artistic or

physical merit, but “cult stardom” is “often embraced by fans of cult cinema via their

own agency, rather than as consequence of marketing, publicity and industrial

meaning-making: star-cultification rather than cultivation, one might say” (Egan,

Thomas 23). This is one of the defining aspects of what makes “cult stardom” a

reality. The cult audience makes the star; in other words, the cult star owes their

career to the fans instead of the production agency. This cult stardom can

oftentimes be leveraged into a position in the mainstream. As mentioned previously,

Tommy Wiseau drummed up loads of attention for The Room and his bizarre

persona, which has resulted in a shift to a semi-mainstream notoriety for creating

the defining cult classic of the 21st century. More than ten years after The Room was

released, Wiseau has since been featured in a short horror/parody film, The House

that Drips Blood on Alex, on the Adult Swim show Tim and Eric Awesome Show, Great

Job!, and as the star of two YouTube series (Tommy Explains it All and The Tommy

Wi-Show). In these appearances, it’s hard to discern if Wiseau is being genuine in his

odd mannerisms or if he is hamming it up, fully aware of his cult status and playing

his stardom card to his advantage. Either way, it makes for an entertaining show of

how cult stars can “attain the status as both a cult star and a mainstream star at the

same time. This can occur when a star with a rebellious or non-conformist persona

moves into the mainstream but retains much of their cult fan base” (Mathijs, Sexton

81). Another example of this fusion of cult and mainstream is summed up in the

career of Sam Raimi and, by extension, Bruce Campbell. Raimi and Campbell first

made head waves in the world of cult cinema with The Evil Dead in 1981. The movie

marked the theatrical debuts of Raimi as director and Campbell as protagonist Ash

Williams. In many ways, the film was seen as a way to capitalize on B-movie horror

and gore cinema of the 70s, but a plot revolving around the Necronomicon of

Lovecraftian lore, a scene of demonically-possessed-tree rape, and Ash replacing his

severed hand with a demon-mowing chainsaw, the film garnered enough attention

to produce a media franchise of two sequels in the campy, horror/comedy genre.

Although Bruce Campbell will always be known as a cult hero for his role as the

“boomstick” wielding, be-chainsawed Ash Williams, he was able to turn his celebrity

into the mainstream with a variety of film, television, and voice-acting work since

The Evil Dead such as Disney’s Cars 2 and Burn Notice. Sam Raimi leveraged his fame

from The Evil Dead into directing credits on the trilogy of Spider-Man movies and as

producer on several high profile projects, including that of the Evil Dead remake in

2013, in which Campbell also receives producer credit. However, it is Campbell that

retains his cult status to a point where he is even self-aware in his acting roles. This

reprisal of his over-the-top acting style is known as referential acting, which

“highlights self-conscious qualities, and allows audiences ‘in the know’ to register

the ways in which the actor is referencing their own, as well as others’, styles”

(Mathijs, Sexton 83). Just as the cult movie fan is integral to the vitality of a film, so is

the cult star integral to the enjoyment of his or her adoring public. Repeat

appearances in the medium of cult cinema further cement a structured persona of a

star and soon the cult fandom begins to expect the same level of performance in

subsequent releases. This method has worked for actors like Campbell and it is

apparently working for Wiseau, but there are instances when repeat performances

come at a detriment to the yet-to-be-discovered paracinema star.

On this note, it would be relevant to go back to one of the originators of the

terrible movie and cult stardom as we know it today: Ed Wood. Known best for the

de facto “worst movie ever made,” Plan 9 from Outer Space, Wood wrote and

directed multiple low budget films known for their leanings toward exploitation,

horror, and campy qualities. Having released a majority of his movies in the 50s, Ed

Wood only began to receive posthumous praise for his work after his death in 1978,

most notably winning the Golden Turkey Award for Worst Director of All Time and

having his films featured on the comedy series Mystery Science Theater 3000. A

renewed interest in Wood’s body of work by the cult film crowd supplemented his

legacy as one of the true directing stars of cult cinema, considering his unwillingness

to give up after repeated failure and consistent output of said failures. Many film

directors and producers in the world of low-budget filmmaking were “notorious for

being literally ‘here today, gone tomorrow’” (Grey 7). Ed Wood was quite different

in this aspect as he trudged along, bringing his fantastical silver screen dreams to

reality. In Rob Craig’s aptly titled Ed Wood, Mad Genius, he details the labor of love

that Wood poured into his passion:

Crafing his films in the viciously competitive environment of low-budget

1950s independent cinema, Wood managed to forage a series of wildly

innovative features under virtually impossible financial, economic and one

might daresay, psychological conditions. Working completely and utterly

alone, an indefatigable outsider even in his own Hollywood community,

Wood toiled endlessly to bring his strange vision of the world to an

audience… which barely noticed him at first… The irony is that although

Wood might be considered a flop as a mainstream commercial filmmaker…

he may yet become a sort of god. It seems likely that the legend of Wood as

an exemplary outsider artist will last far longer than his ersatz reputation as

a mere “bad director.” (6)

There is this notion amongst the most loyal of cultic fans in which they place a heavy

admiration towards the films they watch. True, Ed Wood is ridiculed as “the worst

director of all time,” but he is much more than that to his fans. Wood, Wiseau, and

others like them, put their absolute best into their movies: their dreams, fears,

passions, analogies, metaphors, etc. In many ways, they are baring their soul to the

world and the world laughs in reply. It is for this reason that “bad movies” are the

most sincere form of cinema; they were created with the absolute best intentions,

yet fell abysmally short of their mark. But what happens when that sincerity is

gone? Does a film in the style of cult film still retain its weight? Or does the cash grab

of cult tropes remove all traces of sincerity?

As mentioned earlier, there are times when mass media attention can

influence the reception of a cult film. Perhaps just as often, film directors borrow

cult film tropes and styles to supplement their films, but are in no way considered a

bad film. Director Quentin Tarrantino and movies like The Rocky Horror Picture

Show incorporate these campy aesthetics and blur the line between cult and

mainstream. There are even more obvious implementations of the cult genre with

“intentional cult films” and films created with the hope that they would gain cult

followings, such as films from Troma Entertainment like The Toxic Avenger and The

Evil Dead series from its sequel onward. These ventures can serve to be quite

profitable for those involved, and they can be defined as “self-conscious cult

auteurs.” This is a quality seen in directors like Tarrantino and Tim Burton, the

latter of whom directed Ed Wood, an homage to the cult director who is portrayed

on-screen by Johnny Depp. Both Burton and Tarrantino’s taste in cult cinema have

defined their cinematic identity. For example, Tarrantino cites the 1975

blaxsploitation film Mandingo as an influence for his 2013 film Django Unchained;

Burton evoked science-fiction cult cinema in his 1996 movie Mars Attacks! Both

directors make “very distinctive, idiosyncratic movies within the mainstream of

Hollywood,” and therefore hope to “imbue [their] own personality with cult kudos”

(Mathijs, Sexton 73). Despite this, the idea of “self-conscious cultism” can bring up

questions of authenticity, which is a lynchpin of cult cinema; if a movie is made to be

cultic for the sake of being cultic, it tends to be viewed as a cash grab in a niche

market. The very term “cult” has seemingly become a buzzword in marketing

campaigns of certain films with the hope that they will receive that patented cult

film treatment and pull in revenue and a devoted fanbase. When this level of

pandering is made obvious, there may be a hesitation to accept these films as truly

within the cult genre, which is why failed blockbusters gain cult followings just as

easily as low-budget films because of the

Magnitude of the failure… often encapsulated in the phrase ‘just what were

they thinking?’ In sum, whenever budget and revenue take on grotesque

characteristics, and can only be described in exaggerated terms, they have

become deviations from normal consumption and appreciation patterns.

They become exceptional in much the same way smaller cult films do.

(Mathijs, Sexton 215)

While not necessarily aiming for a cult status, attempts to make box-office hits are

just as sincere screw-ups as the films of Ed Wood; the cult subculture does not

discriminate. These types of films fall more into the unintentional humor and camp

spheres where the viewer experiences entertainment on an incredulous level

through awkward, melodramatic acting, inconceivable plot devices and the like,

sometimes by respected actors such as Kevin Costner in Waterworld. This provides

us with an interesting dichotomy of mainstream cinema. There are the failed

blockbuster films that are considered to be terrible on all accounts, but at the same

time there are movies and directors that carefully inhabit and manipulate the

conventions and tropes of paracinema to their advantage that results in critically

lauded films. An excellent example of this would be Quentin Tarrantino’s Inglourious

Basterds, which in itself is a re-imaging of Enzo Castellari’s macaroni war film The

Inglorious Bastards. Tarrantino evokes the memory of this film with his corruption

of its title and features hyper violence and an alternate take on the history of World

War Two that is to such an intentional extreme that it evokes less of a shock value

and more of a sheer entertainment and hilarity.

Cult film culture is an interesting foray into the loyalty of fandoms and

subculture. They claim the trash of cinema and apply new meaning to an otherwise

failed movie. The cult cinema fan feels the same affection towards any of their

favorite films in the genre as the beleaguered and embarrassed director; they had a

grand vision that fell short. This virtue sets cultic fans apart from mainstream fans

of any kind. Perhaps they can relate to the troubles of the movie and perhaps the

movie speaks to them in a way nothing else they’ve ever encountered has; perhaps

they’re just in it for a good laugh. Regardless, a “bad” film moves the viewer to an

emotional extreme: a laugh or a crack of a smile. This is more than an average

person can say about their hard work gone unnoticed, but the directors and actors

behind these movies must be critiqued and ridiculed for their endeavors because

they had the gall to be proactive and make something memorable, outstanding even.

The creators of cult films have a lot to owe to their fans, but the fans have just as

much thanks to the Tommy Wiseau’s of the world: such is the reciprocal

relationship of paracinema and cult film with its subculture.

Works Cited

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ed. London: SAGE, 2000. 425-60. Print.

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Popular Culture and Its Audience. London: Pluto, 1997. Print.

Craig, Rob. Ed Wood, Mad Genius: A Critical Study of the Films. Jefferson, NC: McFarland,

2009. Print.

Egan, Kate, and Sarah Thomas. Cult Film Stardom: Offbeat Attractions and Processes of

Cultification. Houndmills, Basingstoke, Hampshire: Palgrave Macmillan, 2013. Web.

Frow, John. "Is Elvis a God? Cult, Culture, Questions of Method." Ed. Michael Ryan and

Hanna Musiol. Cultural Studies: An Anthology. Malden, MA: Blackwell Pub., 2008.

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Grey, Rudolph. Introduction. Nightmare of Ecstacy: The Life and Art of Edward D. Wood Jr.

London: Faber and Faber, 1995. N. pag. Print.

Mathijs, Ernest, and Jamie Sexton. Cult Cinema: An Introduction. Chichester, West Sussex:

Wiley-Blackwell, 2011. Print.

Morrison, James. Passport to Hollywood: Hollywood Films, European Directors. Albany, NY:

State U of New York, 1998. Print.

Sestero, Greg, and Tom Bissell. The Disaster Artist: My Life inside The Room, the Greatest

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