My friend James Ponsoldt once said to me that the measure of a successful film is whether it becomes somebody’s favorite. Which, I still think, is a great perspective.

But if there’s no special achievement in creating a ‘safe’ film, something unremarkable yet commercial that plays it straight down the middle, is there some magic at the opposite end of the spectrum? Consider, for example, Tommy Wiseau’s The Room, a film that’s garnered a cult following by dint of being really, terribly, amazingly awful.

If that bottom-of-the-barrel status holds some merit, then kudos to Baby on Board, a film I haven’t seen, but that’s garnered perhaps my favorite review on all of IMDB:

I WAS AN EXTRA IN THE MOVIE AND I WENT TO THE CHICAGO PREMIERE LAST NIGHT. I HAVE A DEEP SENSE OF SORROW FOR EVERY PERSON THAT WAS INVOLVED IN THAT PROJECT. THOSE CLAPPING AT THE END OF THE FILM ARE EITHER SUFFERING FROM SELF-DELUSION OR SELF-DENIAL. SURELY ANYONE TRYING TO ENTER THE FILM BUSINESS CAREER TOOK A STEP BACKWARD. NOT SIMPLY BECAUSE THEY WERE INVOLVED IN CREATING BABY ON BOARD, BUT BECAUSE THEY VIEWED IT IN ITS ENTIRETY. I LIVE IN CHICAGO. I AM ASHAMED THAT MY FAIR CITY WAS RAPED BY THESE “FILMMAKERS”. MY DOG ATE A ROLL OF FILM THE OTHER DAY AND THE CELLULOID THAT CRAWLED OUT OF HIS ASS WAS PRETTIER THAN THE *beep* YOU’D SEE ON THE SCREEN IN BABY ON BOARD. SO MY DOG’S INTESETINES IS A BETTER CINEMATOGRAPHER THAN WHATEVER MOFO SHOT THIS P.O.S. IF SOMEONE TOLD ME IT WAS SHOT ON A HANHAH MONTANA CAMERAPHONE I’D SAY “YOU’RE RIGHT, MAN.”