It’s that time of year, where everyone puts up their “Best Of” lists.
I saw about 45 movies in theaters this year. Back in March I got an AMC monthly pass, and I used it a lot! The films ranged from amazing (The Substance, Kinds of Kindness) to awful (The Crow, Kraven) to WTAF am I watching (Megalopolis). But none of those were the single best movie-watching experience I had in 2024.
Let me tell you why that honor goes to a terrible erotic thriller about a hot priest matching wits with a serial killer artist.
Last February, my wife went into the hospital with stomach pains. We thought is was some kind of bug, but it turned out to be much more serious. They found growths in her stomach that turned out to be cancerous. Less than ten days after being admitted, my wife of 25 years had passed away. The cancer had progressed too fast, and there wasn’t much they could do. I was heartbroken, walking through the world in a fog of grief, focusing on whatever arrangements had to be done just to get through things.
A couple weeks after her service, my brother’s partner asked if I wanted to group watch some dumb movies to help take my mind off of things. (She had suggested it before my wife passed, but her illness progressed too quickly.) I was still in a bit of a daze, but I agreed.
Alison and my brother, Michael, picked the forgotten 1992 “erotic” “thriller” Final Judgement. Brad Dourif plays a troubled, horny priest. He has a secret daughter. There’s a serial killer artist, who paints his victims and then kills them after they have sexy times.
The frustrated artist/killer is the absolute creepiest person, yet bright-eyed and bushy-tailed women are just begging to pose nude for him. He has the standard-issue artistic loft that every artist and murderer had in the films of the ’90s. At one point the killer-artist bursts into a gallery showing and screams that “none of these artists have ever had sex!” It is ludicrous. It is terrible. It is a hoot.
And while I was watching the dimly lit ripped-from-VHS copy of this movie on YouTube, texting back and forth with Alison and laughing at the overwrought acting… I kind of felt normal. For the next 90 minutes, I forgot about being sad. I felt like maybe things could get a little better.
And while I am certainly not suggesting that you should replace therapy with a film featuring a stripper doing a set in a nun’s outfit, it might be more helpful than you think! Here, Final Judge it for yourself!
Alison and Michael and I have kept up the group watches. It’s been a real highlight of the year. We watched the 1989 horror “classic” Elves at Christmas, which features an incestuous Nazi-elf breeding program in order to create a master race! It is certainly a movie!
And if you are in Toronto, I strongly suggest you check out the series Alison curates at Eyesore Cinema, highlighting the classic erotic thrillers of the 1990s. So if you have fond memories of watching Shannon Tweed movies on Cinemax late at night, you need to follow @tenderprey90s on Instagram for all the details.
Happy New Year to all. May you all find your own Brad Dourif priest movie this year, the thing that helps lift you out of a rut or a depression.