La pandilla basura

Without question the worst movie I've ever seen, and not even in a "so bad it's good" sense. It's ninety minutes of sheer torture, starring a hideous cast of makeup nightmares; indisputable evidence of the lengths a commercial property can stretch for the almighty dollar. Like most children of the eighties, I had a healthy collection of GPK stickers in my closet growing up. The gross-out humor and macabre illustrations were a big selling point, but beneath all that was a creative core and a wild amount of versatility. Every card was completely different. The one-note comedy of their film translation, though, is like opening a pack filled with duplicates. I counted six jokes with a visual punchline of "and then he peed his pants." That's not an exaggeration, and it's not the only example of the flick's careless comedic redundancy. Combine that with an appalling song and dance number (seriously), a horribly out-of-place romantic subplot (starring a pre-pubescent boy and a girl well into her twenties, no less) and a gang of foils cut clumsily from recycled cardboard. It's genuinely amazing this ever saw the light of day.