Funny how the whole “cult” film scene works, huh?

These films can basically be separated into two different categories: the honest yet inept film that strives to do its best but only meets glorious failure, and the cringe-inducingly intentional. For example, you can put any Ed Wood film up against, say, the infuriating Jesus Christ, Vampire Hunter, and it’s easy to see a difference.

The Dark Backward sticks out as something entirely different, and whether you like it or not, it’s utterly unique to the cult scene. Clearly made to be as intentionally odd as possible suggesting a thick layer of smug self-indulgence, its sheer unabashed success at grotesqueness managed to even turn off its intended audience. This isn’t a film like Freaks or Cabin Boy that you can break out at parties as an initiation ritual or to weed out boring people, The Dark Backward is so ruthlessly vile that it doesn’t even have a cult audience because the people who like this film are ashamed of liking it.

Except me, of course. And I can’t even really put my finger on why the film strikes a chord with me, but I have a feeling it’s less about the quality of the film and more of a crazy, Stockholm Syndrome-esque brainwashing. Played nonstop after midnight on Showtime from 1993 until who knows, The Dark Backward was a perfect film for me, a twelve-year-old insomniac.

In fact, that might ultimately be the best way to describe The Dark Backward: a perfect film for young insomniacs, a perfect bridge from childhood innocence to sexually curious yet neurotic youth (I refuse to say “tween,” and you should, too).

From frame one the griminess starts and doesn’t let up until the nostalgic end-credits. Enter Marty Malt, a daytime garbage man, a moonlighting amateur comedian and a 24-hour ball of nervousness who dreams of comedy stardom with his best friend Gus, the filthiest man alive. That’s not an exaggeration either. Gus (Bill Paxton – not Frailty Paxton mind you, but “Fish Heads” music video Paxton) lives, breathes, eats and violates garbage, eager to eat a sandwich out of discarded lunch pails or, in a scene that defines the term “deal-breaker” defile a dead woman less than ten minutes into the picture.

Marty’s anxieties literally come to a head when a strange bump appears on his back. He does what any normal human being should do and pays a visit to James Caan as Dr. Scurvy, prostituting himself in order to pay the medical bills in the process. Not with James Caan, though, that would be crossing the line.

Marty and Gus go on with their daily routine until Gus discovers Marty’s lump has now managed to sprout a couple of prehensile fingers, eventually growing into a full-length arm. Smelling overnight sensation, Gus celebrates by having sex involving three obese prostitutes and the contents of a dog food can fried in castor oil before taking Marty to the offices of Jackie Chrome (Wayne Newton, for chrissakes). Chrome digs the accordion/stand-up/freak show three-pronged attack and sends Marty and Gus through the nightclub circuit before landing a Hollywood deal courtesy of a big-toothed Rob Lowe. But what are Marty and Gus to do when the mysterious appendage suddenly becomes a phantom limb?

A thinly veiled commentary on the chew-you-up-and-spit-you-out Hollywood system penned by a then-19 Rifkin, The Dark Backward’s story is nowhere near revolutionary, so what the creators of the film have done to separate it from every other Hollywood satire was to make the film as unappealing to like as possible. The Dark Backward defies you to enjoy it, from the amazingly unleashed performances to the cinematography to the set design, to the clothing, to the sound, to the hair – I could go on and on and on and on andonandon. And yet there’s a certain cracked genius behind it all – how does a film as antisocial as this one ever get made?

Well, no matter what, the point is that the film was made, and for better or worse, the people behind it were absolutely dedicated to a vision. And that vision, unpleasant as it may be, is frighteningly convincing. The Dark Backward is a universe unto itself, and there is not a single frame in the film that takes you out of its sweat soaked, grime covered world. Every performance is off the map, wholly inappropriate for human consumption and yet they work in the context of the film. Bill Paxton screams every line of dialogue at the top of his lungs, and yet it never made me think “Man, isn’t this a little over the top?” Judd Nelson is an absolute alien as Marty Malt with his giant granny glasses, hair plastered to the side of his head and a suit apparently tailored for John Candy, but somehow managed to make its way onto Marty’s 80-pound frame.

This film hurts to look at. This film hurts to listen to. And I love it. I’m really, really sorry.

Presentation
Despite the inconspicuous description on the back that merely suggests a letterbox presentation and nothing more, The Dark Backward is thankfully presented in anamorphic widescreen. Shot with a budget under a million dollars, The Dark Backward’s presentation far exceeds any expectations and brings the sickening color palette to life. Every uncomfortable close-up is surprisingly sharp, showing off just how sweat-drenched every character really is. The image is so clear you can see Bill Paxton’s saliva glistening off the dead woman’s breasts.

The audio, while not getting 5.1 upgrade, is quite strong. There’s not a moment in the film that isn’t occupied by the sound of running trains, screaming children, buzzing flies or a combination thereof, all topped off with a calliope-filled circus score.

Extras
Probably the best collection of unexpected extras since Buckaroo Banzai Across the 8th Dimension, The Dark Backward comes with a jovial commentary track featuring director Adam Rifkin, producer Brad Wyman and actors Judd Nelson and Bill Paxton. A critical and commercial failure, the commentary feels like an extended kiss off as the four breeze through the entire film as proud as could be, yet they don't come off as egotistical or hostile towards their critics.

Two featurettes tie into the commentary track, overlapping some but for the most part able to expand on items merely glossed over during the commentary. Blump’s Squeezable Documentary is a talking heads piece again featuring Paxton, Nelson, Rifkin and Wyman, along with a giddy Wayne Newton, who was so infatuated with the script he did the entire film for free. A 36-minute 15th Anniversary Q&A session rounds out the meaty portions of the extras. Sure, it too repeats a few stories from the previous features, but I don’t mind Bill Paxton yet again describing his frolicking amongst obese porn stars and Martha Dumptruck from Heathers.

The extras continue with more things you’d never expect from such a film; seventeen minutes of deleted scenes are presented in a near-nonsensical collage of bits and pieces, six minutes of outtakes come storming out of the gate with a surprise appearing from Bill Paxton’s penis, Cannes Promo Shorts is a fascinating bit of video used to help sell the picture (it didn’t), and even a 90-second cat and mouse animation that appears in the film is presented, cleaned up and in color.

The only thing that feels like filler is the Catch my Dreams Clip Compilation – just a series of shots from the movie set to a first-person narrative rundown of the film done in a rap style that would make horrorcore fans feel embarrassed. It’s almost as worthless as the year-too-late trailers for Silent Hill and Clive Barker’s The Plague.

Overall
Saying that this film is not for everyone is an understatement – not for anyone might be more appropriate. If I could describe this film as a hybrid of two other films (it’s like _______ combined with ________), I would say that The Dark Backward is like if Terry Gilliam’s Brazil took a shit on the chest of John Waters’ Desperate Living, and both of them loved it.