Normally I would have a long and completely unnecessary introduction before I dive into one of my reviews. I do this for several reasons, as primarily it provides me with an opportunity to write about whatever I choose and then hopefully find a novel way of tying it to the movie I watched and am reviewing. I like to think of it as flexing my creative muscles, but Anna pretty much thinks it is me showing off.

The other reason I write my reviews this way is because I want to use a style that is different then anything else you might have read. My experiences tie heavily into how I view a film, and by providing you the reader with insight into them it is my hope that it present you with a unique opportunity to see just what makes my brain tick. Or maybe not. It isn’t much more then a theory at this point.

But Starcrash is an entirely different animal then most of the other films I have watched for this site. For one, it stars David Hasselhoff, a man who I am powerless to resist. His very presence turns even the worst film or television show into an irresistible elixir. I knew going in to this screening there was no way I could ever hate this film, but what I was not expecting to endure what I could only describe as an utterly transcendent experience.

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Part of the reason why I started this site was not only to search out smaller and unknown art films, but to watch some fairly unknown crappy films as well. With my recent run of slightly high-brow fair I felt it was time to change pace a bit and given in to my most base instincts. That usually means terrible science fiction films.

So next weeks review will focus on Starcrash, the 1979 Italian space epic starring Christopher Plummer. Yes, that Christopher Plummer.  It also co-stars David Hasselhoff. Yup, The Hoff pre-drunken home videos, pre-naked photo shoots drapped in puppies, and pre-Knight Rider.

But is it from a time when he Hoff was pre-awesome? Only time will tell.

It isn’t often that I struggle to think of an adequate and fitting intro for one of my reviews. I take a lot of pride in trying to find interesting, odd and hopefully unique ways of introducing a reader to the review I am writing. Now sure, sometime I will have the occasional beef with writer’s block but it has yet to result in anything more then a rather minor skirmish with frustration. Often times it even allows me to look at my review from a slightly altered perspective, and that is all that I need to connect with the proper delivery system. But as I write this review I am sitting here, humbly before you, with nothing to offer. Not even a single solitary rambling take that inexplicably turns into a bridge for my review.

Sure, I could tell you about how I went to watch The Strangers this evening, and rather then enjoying the film, I found the most entertaining moment of the entire 90 minutes was when I watched Derek Jeter making a drunken fool out of himself in the theater lobby. I could tell you about that, but since last week’s intro was about my less then eloquent brush with Eddie Izzard it would feel hopelessly like a retread of my previous intro. Kind of like how it felt watching The Strangers.

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