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This clip from a 1987 movie called Student Confidential has been titled “The Worst Movie Ending EVER!!!” Whoops, they got the words Worst and Best mixed up (the number of exclamation points is correct).
Q: What is going on?
A: Who cares!
This should be the Keyboard Cat of movies. Like, any time a movie has a disappointing ending, let’s just cut and paste this at the end. Better. We can finally “fix” Million Dollar Baby! (In the new version, Maggie Fitzgerald, a successful female boxer who has never been injured, suddenly turns into a black man and teaches Frankie Dunn a pretty important lesson about creepy hand holding and weird stares.) (Via IWatchStuff.)
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There is obviously some ESP conversation going on there.
That was like every 2nd half of a Speilberg movie I have ever seen. I will say I am interested how he intends to make that inordinate amount of money. (cue creepy glance)
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And that changes things how? There is no possible universe in which that is not a bad ending.
It’s an amazing ending done ON PURPOSE.
I JUST CHANGED MY MIND, IT’S AWESOME IN 7 WAYS. DOWNVOTE MY ORIGINAL POST EVERYONE.
I downvote all your posts buddy.
Relax, technojeremy.
I’d return the favor, but you’re apparently too functionally disabled to create your own account.
Awkward silences? Where we’re going we won’t need awkward silences.
Oh gawd, PLEASE let it be that it is actually THE marlon jackson that is in this movie (as the credits indicate)!!!!
Oh gawd, PLEASE let it be that it is actually THE marlon jackson that is in this movie (as the credits indicate)!!!!
Haha. What? There are credits for “Hoodlums” and “Prostitutes”. This might be the best movie.
How about a SPOILER ALERT?
You guys, that’s Marlon Jackson.
Susan Scott didn’t even have to learn a different first name! She must have had a great manager. Aside from getting her this role, I mean.
I’m a big fan of Emo Pavarotti. too bad he didn’t get more work.
I am totally digging that spunky ending credit music! Oh yeah!
Same! Such a funky jam!
I kept waiting for them to make out.
I was really hoping I’d stumbled upon the sequel to Scanners.
i’m waiting for the mashup of this guy and the crying Indian. single tears are the best. so poignant.
Oh, and I have to point out that the guy who wrote that fantastic review of Million Dollar Baby has a five-star review of a carton of smoked oysters. HIGHLY RECOMMENDED!
The look that says “Who’s up for another spot of rough sex. The scars on your face say probably ‘not yet’. But your eyes say ‘No? Yes? No? yesssss.’”
Ok this is the second time I’ve seen this today and in those six hours nobody has edited it to include keyboard cat. WHY NOT?? I WANT THE KEYBOARD CAT TO PLAY THESE TWO CATS OUT!!!!!
Is it just me, or does that guy look like Jonathan Frakes?
My favorite part is when it goes from terribly executed acting exercise to awkwardly suggestive gay tryst invitation.
Hey Omar, how are things?
Just got back from shootin’ the boy Mike-Mike in his hind parts.
Okay, so when I was a kid, Ronee Blakely (so good in Nashville, so bad in everything else) was a family friend and used to stay at our apartment in New York when she was in town. She was visitng the weekend I first saw Nightmare on Elm Street — which holy shit I just looked up and it came out in 1984, meaning I was way too old for the story that follows. Anyway, I couldn’t sleep after seeing that movie because, well, you know…the whole sleep-and-you-die-plot device. So my mother had Ronee come into my room and explain how it was all fake: how they used corn syrup dyed red for blood, how Robert Englund was a delightfully charming man and how, in the ending that terrified me, they made a dummy of her and yanked it through the window of the front door.
It was the best, most illuminating conversation of my childhood and I don’t think I ever had trouble sleeping after that. In short, I owe Ronee Blakely a tremendous debt of gratitude for her kindness. But after seeing her name in the credits of this inexplicably weird clip, I’m wiping the slate clean, and as far as I’m concerned, she can rot in hell with Freddy Krueger hot on her heels.
That was a really nice story except for the ending and then you got really mean! I loved Ronee Blakely in Nashville (never saw her in anything else) and she wrote her own songs for it, which were great. So she will always be Barbara Jean to me (and the woman who made you not scared at night).
Okay, so when I was a kid, Ronee Blakely (so good in Nashville, so bad in everything else) was a family friend and used to stay at our apartment in New York when she was in town. She was visitng the weekend I first saw Nightmare on Elm Street — which holy shit I just looked up and it came out in 1984, meaning I was way too old for the story that follows. Anyway, I couldn’t sleep after seeing that movie because, well, you know…the whole sleep-and-you-die-plot device. So my mother had Ronee come into my room and explain how it was all fake: how they used corn syrup dyed red for blood, how Robert Englund was a delightfully charming man and how, in the ending that terrified me, they made a dummy of her and yanked it through the window of the front door.
It was the best, most illuminating conversation of my childhood and I don’t think I ever had trouble sleeping after that. In short, I owe Ronee Blakely a tremendous debt of gratitude for her kindness. But after seeing her name in the credits of this inexplicably weird clip, I’m wiping the slate clean, and as far as I’m concerned, she can rot in hell with Freddy Krueger hot on her heels.
Okay, so when I was a kid, Ronee Blakely (so good in Nashville, so bad in everything else) was a family friend and used to stay at our apartment in New York when she was in town. She was visitng the weekend I first saw Nightmare on Elm Street — which holy shit I just looked up and it came out in 1984, meaning I was way too old for the story that follows. Anyway, I couldn’t sleep after seeing that movie because, well, you know…the whole sleep-and-you-die-plot device. So my mother had Ronee come into my room and explain how it was all fake: how they used corn syrup dyed red for blood, how Robert Englund was a delightfully charming man and how, in the ending that terrified me, they made a dummy of her and yanked it through the window of the front door.
It was the best, most illuminating conversation of my childhood and I don’t think I ever had trouble sleeping after that. In short, I owe Ronee Blakely a tremendous debt of gratitude for her kindness. But after seeing her name in the credits of this inexplicably weird clip, I’m wiping the slate clean, and as far as I’m concerned, she can rot in hell with Freddy Krueger hot on her heels.
Its the creepiest Conan/Max stare-off ever
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This just proves that an Angelo Badalamenti synth score can make anything amazing. (see Inside the Actor’s Studio)
I thought that said “synth core” (as in “synthcore”) at first, and I didn’t even question that that was a thing.
Google has just shown me that some people are dumb enough tow ant that to be a real thing. Ugh.
ummmm, so this movie is available on Netflix watch instantly, and it is AMAZING! Every minute of it is as wonderfully peculiar as that ending.
Which one is my boyfriend? I hope it’s the one who can make me an inordinate ammount of money in the world of buisness. Because I am materialistic.
Jodie Foster falls through the atom-like machine, and she sees the world shift around her. When the doors open, she cautiously steps out and there is a man offering to make her an inordinate amount of money through the world of business. Looking down at her hands, she realizes that she has somehow become a black man. But that doesn’t matter. Nothing like that matters anymore.
In the ’70s and ’80s, every movie involving an ethnic minority was required to have ‘Hoodlums’ and occasionally ‘Drug Dealer #1 and #2.’ Seriously, check the credits.
original inspiration for the hills perhaps?
Yeah, the chemistry between Malcolm Gladwell’s brother and the This Is Sparta guy couldn’t be better.