A giant thank you for the shout-out about my "geometry" question! Having the continuity right is a plus, unless you're writing a parody of something which is already godawful. Some things are already unintentionally parodic (such as the entire "Fifty Shades" franchise, in any form--beyond any improvement, salvage, salvation, or consideration), but some of the notorious action flicks which Cannon Films churned out in the 1980s (part of that unintentional art form known as "movies so bad they're good") and the gazillion low-budget sci-fi and crime drama movies that made "Mystery Science Theater 3000" such a great TV show were renowned for their inconsistency.
Many people watch low-budget movies and TV shows just to spot the inconsistencies which means they are completely disregarding the story (assuming there is one).
I'm not among them--just because something is produced on a shoestring budget doesn't automatically make it worthy of contempt, nor make it poor quality. The classic film noir, "Double Indemnity," starring the immortal Barbara Stanwyck as perhaps the most sensual and ice-cold femme fatale in film history (despite the Hays censorship code), Fred MacMurray, and the incomparable Edward G. Robinson as the most tenacious insurance investigator of all time, came in $875K under budget. The director Billy Wilder co-wrote the screenplay with blockbuster hard-boiled author Raymond Chandler, adapted from James M. Cain's potboiler, and was nominated for 8 Oscars. It didn't win any, since the saccharine, family-friendly "Going My Way" with Bing Crosby and Barry Fitzgerald swept the awards. One of my all-time faves, Abel Ferrara, is known as the "Scuzzy Scorsese," since he's known for filming NYC using guerrilla tactics--never getting permits, and just setting up and doing the shoots. His early efforts starred himself and his friends, and are camp landmarks ("The Driller Killer," for instance, which is not a slasher film, but a character study of a struggling, starving artist in 1970s New York, slowly losing his sanity and turning to murder). "Ms. 45," which I wrote a review of, is not a glitzy film at all, but is solid, gritty, and an admired entry in the '70s-'80s vigilante/victim revenge subgenre of neo-noir. He went on to make tour de force crime drama like "The King of New York" with Christopher Walken, and "Bad Lieutenant" with Harvey Keitel.
Then again, crap is, well--crap. But there's a great deal of crap out there which was lavishly financed and produced, which made hundreds of millions in global box office sales. I submit the majority of this slop--most in the Marvel Comics/Disney inherited Lucasfilm realm, but also the "de-eroticized" dramatic cinema of the last several years, which cater to the adult juveniles in society, who shudder at the concept of another human being touching another in an intimate way on screen unless an army of lawyers is somewhere in the vicinity, and some loathsome new creature known as an "intimacy coordinator" has choreographed every facet of a sex scene like a kung fu master staging a fight in the latest John Wick adventure--this idiocy to avoid some mindless, talentless starlet from having a full-blown panic attack if an actor's hand is six inches off the contractually agreed-upon position, and she has to be given weeks of therapy to recover. This drivel--posing as film--isn't worth the money or thought of serious people. Analogous sewage reeks from the shelves of every bookstore, glutted with saccharine "chick lit," all having the same dull, one-dimensional, boring plots, with castrated men and frigid women all getting their romantic and sexual pleasure via intimate cuddling while reading back issues of The New Yorker, or drinking expensive genetic mutations of what was once coffee or tea at Starbucks while discussing how thrilling and empowering it is to be a vegan--or something along those lines. All of this--all of it--is dreck. Pure dreck.
A giant thank you for the shout-out about my "geometry" question! Having the continuity right is a plus, unless you're writing a parody of something which is already godawful. Some things are already unintentionally parodic (such as the entire "Fifty Shades" franchise, in any form--beyond any improvement, salvage, salvation, or consideration), but some of the notorious action flicks which Cannon Films churned out in the 1980s (part of that unintentional art form known as "movies so bad they're good") and the gazillion low-budget sci-fi and crime drama movies that made "Mystery Science Theater 3000" such a great TV show were renowned for their inconsistency.
Many people watch low-budget movies and TV shows just to spot the inconsistencies which means they are completely disregarding the story (assuming there is one).
I'm not among them--just because something is produced on a shoestring budget doesn't automatically make it worthy of contempt, nor make it poor quality. The classic film noir, "Double Indemnity," starring the immortal Barbara Stanwyck as perhaps the most sensual and ice-cold femme fatale in film history (despite the Hays censorship code), Fred MacMurray, and the incomparable Edward G. Robinson as the most tenacious insurance investigator of all time, came in $875K under budget. The director Billy Wilder co-wrote the screenplay with blockbuster hard-boiled author Raymond Chandler, adapted from James M. Cain's potboiler, and was nominated for 8 Oscars. It didn't win any, since the saccharine, family-friendly "Going My Way" with Bing Crosby and Barry Fitzgerald swept the awards. One of my all-time faves, Abel Ferrara, is known as the "Scuzzy Scorsese," since he's known for filming NYC using guerrilla tactics--never getting permits, and just setting up and doing the shoots. His early efforts starred himself and his friends, and are camp landmarks ("The Driller Killer," for instance, which is not a slasher film, but a character study of a struggling, starving artist in 1970s New York, slowly losing his sanity and turning to murder). "Ms. 45," which I wrote a review of, is not a glitzy film at all, but is solid, gritty, and an admired entry in the '70s-'80s vigilante/victim revenge subgenre of neo-noir. He went on to make tour de force crime drama like "The King of New York" with Christopher Walken, and "Bad Lieutenant" with Harvey Keitel.
Then again, crap is, well--crap. But there's a great deal of crap out there which was lavishly financed and produced, which made hundreds of millions in global box office sales. I submit the majority of this slop--most in the Marvel Comics/Disney inherited Lucasfilm realm, but also the "de-eroticized" dramatic cinema of the last several years, which cater to the adult juveniles in society, who shudder at the concept of another human being touching another in an intimate way on screen unless an army of lawyers is somewhere in the vicinity, and some loathsome new creature known as an "intimacy coordinator" has choreographed every facet of a sex scene like a kung fu master staging a fight in the latest John Wick adventure--this idiocy to avoid some mindless, talentless starlet from having a full-blown panic attack if an actor's hand is six inches off the contractually agreed-upon position, and she has to be given weeks of therapy to recover. This drivel--posing as film--isn't worth the money or thought of serious people. Analogous sewage reeks from the shelves of every bookstore, glutted with saccharine "chick lit," all having the same dull, one-dimensional, boring plots, with castrated men and frigid women all getting their romantic and sexual pleasure via intimate cuddling while reading back issues of The New Yorker, or drinking expensive genetic mutations of what was once coffee or tea at Starbucks while discussing how thrilling and empowering it is to be a vegan--or something along those lines. All of this--all of it--is dreck. Pure dreck.