“That’s no wolf, it’s a dog! I betcha somebody’s croaked!”

Kaleb’s rating: As it turns out, I am thoroughly incapable of ever going into a movie with the right mindset.

Kaleb’s review: Let me back up a skoosh: For those of you unaware, this review is being written under self-inflicted duress. Or, I guess maybe “self-not-avoided” would be more accurate. “Sniped through a loophole” perhaps. Yeah, I like that one.

Some of you may recall a short-lived contest hosted by yours truly a little while back. The object was to match the various branches of this year’s Haunted House with the Mutants who wrote each. Fellow-but-still-new-enough-to-participate Mutant Heather stood fast in the face of fierce competition from no one, emerged the victor, and was given the chance to assign me a movie to review. But there was a catch: It had to be a movie I already owned. Because I don’t actually have a Netflix account (should I have mentioned that before I was hired?), and renting movies via traditional means requires getting up and going outside and stuff.

Now, I don’t know if my tacking on a catch infuriated Heather into a cackling mania, or if that would’ve happened anyway, but the fact remains that she pointed my indentured mug toward a celluloid butt-nugget of purportedly-epic badness.

“Child Bride is in the public domain,” said she, “So technically, it belongs to everyone.” And the word “everyone” was naturally accompanied by the arcing, rainbow-ish arm gesture that I can’t explain very well but you know what I’m talking about, and glitter, and the sound effect that goes with glitter. Then she started laughing, and things started bursting into flame, and I left.

Anyway, in the words of Robert Muldoon: “Clever girl.”

So now I’m facing down the prospect of having to review a film that even the MST3K guys won’t handle. But I resolve to do it anyway, because an elephant is faithful, one-hundred percent, and I resemble one in certain respects (just so there’s no confusion: ears).

However, thanks to lessons learned from my Showgirls experience, I wasn’t going in unprepared. Never again would I make the mistake of underestimating a movie’s awfulness, thinking I could just swagger through it and make a few digs along the way, and instead end up with it pouring liquid nitrogen on my soul and hitting it with a sledgehammer.

Also, I couldn’t help but admit to a certain impish glee upon learning that the film was set in the Ozarks; my own rather regrettable current residence. If my understanding is correct, the locus in which I now type is regarded abroad as a backwatered hive of pedophilia and incest, and I can’t help but derive a little dab of geographic schadenfreude from any media which promotes said notion. Granted, I take exception to being caught under such a vile generalization myself, but I also understand that, when a given stereotype is 90% accurate or better, those in the remainder forfeit their right to complaint, and I’m not going to waste time and energy defending the honor of a region about which I give not a rat’s ass. Not even a single cheek.

So I watched Child Bride. I done watched it good, and I had all available resources in my nerdly metaphorical power grid diverted to shields the whole time. Was my caution wasted, you ask? I might draw your attention to my rating. Yeah, I squandered quite a lot of perfectly good tension and fear.

Don’t misunderstand: It was a stinker, but it was also released in 1938, which bears some consideration. No, it’s not that it wasn’t bad, it’s that it wasn’t legendary-bad. Wasn’t much of anything, really. Back when I first heard that Joel/Mike & the boys regard it as strictly hands-off, I assumed it was because production values were simply too rotten, or the subject matter too eew-inducing (I did have to do the Icky Dance to cleanse myself after the wedding scene. Bleah.). But now that I’ve seen it, I’m pretty sure that it’s just that there’s not enough going on to support the minimum RPM (Riffs per Minute).

There are a couple of mockable moments, I suppose. I’m particularly fond of the exchange responsible for my solitary quote. Apparently, in the Ozarks, mundane background noises are a portent of death. One wonders if this applies only to dogs barking, or if any noise qualifies. If, while sitting in the living room, I hear four beeps in succession, should I logically assume my chili is done heating up, or should I lament, “The Pale Rider has claimed yet another!” and faint dramatically?

All in all though, it’s just a 60-minute span of nothing. Pure lost time. The cinematic equivalent of an alien abduction. There’s a disingenuous disclaimer at the start about how nobody’s trying to condemn the customs of the smelly mountain people (after which they are portrayed as murderous chimps; again, I’m not protesting), and the next thing I know, I’m groggily coming to an hour later, vaguely aware that I had just watched a movie, but unable to recall anything about it without the aid of hypnosis.

So, I don’t know. Heather, if you’re reading this, I hope the lack of blubber-snot and eye-blood on my part does not disappoint too terribly. Like I said, sure it’s bad, but I’ve seen worse, and I’m afraid my soul is still quite operational (when your Rebel friends arrive, and otherwise).

But gosh darn it, you tried, and that’s what counts. You’ll get me next time for sure.

Bonus! Post-review quasi-apology/acquiescence!

So, after the preceding review was more or less done, I went looking for pics (obviously failing to find any viable specimens), and stumbled upon the Wikipedia page for Child Bride. ‘Twas there that I learned that the already plenty-disturbing skinny dipping scene was actually much longer and more skeevy in the original version of the film; featuring unobstructed 11-year old nudity, and a tremendously-disquieting discussion between Jenny—the titular child bride—and her friend Freddy regarding the wondrous changes their bodies are going through.

When I read this, I distinctly remember thinking, “Wow, that is exactly everything I’m glad I missed.”

So, to the MST3K crew: I get what all the hubbub is about now. And to Heather: Thank you thank you thank you for sending me the cut version.