The Best Worst Movie Ever!: "Troll 2" and the Mormons

"Troll 2? Never heard of it, there was a Troll 1?"
"Yes, but this movie had nothing to do with the first one. And there are no trolls in it."
"Nice..."

While on one of our non-date movie outings, Farmer Ted asked if I wanted to see "Troll 2" at a special midnight showing. Sure.

Later, he mentioned that 'his girl' was going too. Excuse me? Did you just invite me on your date with your girlfriend? "Oh? Well, then I'm going to bring my friend Mike. I don't want to be a third wheel." He did not like this at all. Too bad.

The four of us met at the theater, but the tickets were sold out. Um, Troll 2 has sold out? Are you freaking kidding me? Nope. So, we scrounged up a plan and got in line anyway. These people make minimum wage, they don't care if you have the right tickets. Yes, my friends and I are a bunch of over-grown juvenile delinquents.

In the lobby, we saw a small movie crew. One of the actors from the 20 year old film was shooting a documentary about the cult status of 'Troll 2'. Some of the super-fans dressed in goblin costumes, some wore all green, one woman dressed like a crazy witch. It's been a long time since I've seen this kind of crowd. I remarked that we were definitely too sober to see this movie. (Visit the official site here for photos of the mad fans!)

Once inside, we had to split up our little group into two rows. I stayed with my friend, and Farmer Ted had to sit with his lady, who promptly draped herself all over him. He didn't respond in kind.

The movie. What a freaking good time!! My face hurt I laughed so much. It might be the funniest movie I've ever seen. The crowd added another element of fun by quoting the movie, shouting out wisecracks and even doing a synchronized 80s dance routine. But the movie does not need the extra entertainment. Every scene is worse than the previous one. I'd think that it couldn't possibly get any worse, but it did. This is the perfect bad movie: crappy effects, bad costumes, non-sensical plot, poor taste, horrible acting, comedic soundtrack, homo-erotic undertones, 80s cheese, green goo, a mini-van, anorexic sex-object, floating head dead grandpa... and the memorable line: "You can't piss on hospitality!" The use of which was literal, not metaphoric. And...... redneck Utahn Mormon extras!!!! The extras are the scariest thing in the movie. (That's right, folks! This little flick was filmed in the backwoods of Utah.) If you look at the scary sheriff's hands as he drives, you can see his CTR ring.

After the movie, some of the actors did a Q & A session with two comedians. You can imagine the questions asked by this cynical, mostly drunk, film-school drop-out filled audience: (I'll give you an example as soon as I remember one)

The dentist, whom I called 'Sexy Dad', explained how the tour got started. He called Blair up to the front, a nice boy from Provo. Blair is an RM-looking dude who told us his movie club watched Troll 2. A member of his club said he went to church with one of the actors. So, Blair decided to look up all the actors. He figured they still lived in Utah since they obviously weren't living large in L.A. due to their fame and success. He was right! He found most of them in the local phone books. He organized a screening in Salt Lake. The theater sold out. Then they took the movie and Q&A on tour. Good times.

Ted and his date wanted to leave right after the movie. She obviously didn't like it. He was either tired or in a bad mood. But my buddy wanted to stay. I told Ted he could leave without us. I had a great time, as did my friend and the strange guy sitting next to me named "Casper". We laughed together the whole time. (I unabashedly chatted up Casper for Farmer Ted's benefit. Isn't that evil? Maybe I'm from Nilbog too!)

Every B movie fan and obscure Mormon pop culturist must see Troll 2!

A clarification of diction

I used the term 'emo boys' in this previous post. One reader asked what an 'emo boy' is. Having thought about it, I realized I do not know what an emo boy is. And, upon further reflection, the gentlemen to which I referred were really wannabe 'hipsters'. If you'd like to know exactly what a hipster is, watch this video of the Hipster Olympics. Very Entertaining and wickedly accurate. The boys at the party were cleaner than real hipsters, and not quite as hung-over because they were still in their early 20s. They won't look that bad until the pass that 25-year-old hill.

The same post also sparked a discussion about my use of the word 'boring' to describe a 'nice' girl in a derogatory way, the assumption being that 'boring' is the opposite of crazy. I did use the word 'boring' to denote the girl's shyness, politeness, bland clothes AND lack of interesting conversation; i.e. her horridly snoozerific stories about traveling in Switzerland when she had a crisis of fear on the meter high dive and how it was one of the defining moments of her life, or the one about the train station with the out of place box sitting on a bench--yes, you read that correctly, a plain brown box was there and did not belong!... THAT is why I called her boring. Believe me, I know that the nicest, quietest folks in the crowd can be the sickest mofos there. I enjoy finding that out about them and usually try to engage the wallflowers in conversation, when I am not holding up the wall myself. But this girl disappointed, I offered to pass out the mustard just to get away from her.

Back to church, with a broken heart, again

The ironic thing about meeting Farmer Ted is that he has scared me into going back to church. Knowing how close I came, how much I wanted to give up this chastity thing, and how resentful it made me, showed me how far I have gone from the Lord. He showed me I need to get my behind back on the pew every Sunday.

So, I did go to church, on that Sunday after he told me about his 'new girl'. The ward completely ignored me again. As I sat there before the meeting, I watched the bishopric walk around introducing themselves to all the new people. The bishop glanced at me. No one came over. No one said hello. I knew they didn't know who I was. Some missionaries sat next to me because they had no other choice. I had spent the entire weekend in my apartment doing nothing. I already felt lonely and rejected, and this happened at church again! I needed some attention, I needed some love from somewhere. I was not going to get it here, in the 'house of the Lord'.

By the time sacrament ended, I felt so bad I couldn't stay any longer. I got up and walked out of the chapel. As I came through the lobby, I saw the huge painting of Jesus Christ with his open arms extended in love and welcome. I burst into tears. The irony! I started running down the stairs to get out of there. "Wait!" I turned and looked up. One of the missionaries. He had followed me out. He asked my name. What was my phone number, could they come visit? I choked out a yes, said that the sisters had been visiting me. I tried to hide my red blotchy face from him. He told me to call if I ever needed anything. Ok...bye. What a sweetheart...Then I drove home.

Instead of waiting for Farmer Ted to not call, I went to bed and cried myself to sleep. When I awoke, I semi-waited, but I knew. The call never came. He was getting serious about the girl. It was not even about him, really. He wasn't that great a catch, I could do better. It was the rejection, again that hurt me. Having my hopes destroyed once again caused an unbelievable pain that wrenched through my body. Alone again, while he was having lots of sex with the boring girl. I screamed into my couch pillows and beat the floor in frustration. Would this never end?!! How much heartbreak can one person take!?! WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME??? Then I sobbed for hours.

There was something seriously wrong with me. I am 31 years old and could see no end. The hours and force of my tears made my chest hurt, my lungs sore, and my head throb...the thought of the rest of my life continuing this way... a loveless life seems absolutely unbearable. As I choked on my sobs, I wished I could stop breathing. I wished I really would choke, so this could be over...Then I pictured myself filling the bathtub and holding my head under the water, flooding my lungs and escaping the pain. Surely hell is better than this... No one is meant to live this way.

Suicide fantasies?! Holy crap!--it's been 10 years! Someone help me!...This is very very bad. I called my Bishop but got no answer and no voicemail. Of course. I remembered the sweet missionary from church, I dug out his number and called. I left a message, the words stuttered with sobs. Finally, the Bishop called, who had heard from the Elder. He asked what I needed? I told him that I felt so alone I didn't think I could go on anymore. This was it for me. It was too hard. I didn't know what more to do. The Bishop didn't understand me. After some talking, he agreed to come over.

They came. He gave me a copy of the 'Every Single One' story from the Ensign, which I had read. He wanted to know what I thought of it. I told him it didn't go far enough. I told him that church was the loneliest place in the world. He wanted to know why. I said that as a single person, I am alone all the time. No one cares if I come or go, get sick, or anything. So when I go to church, I need to be noticed instead of completely ignored. I told him no one had said hello to me that morning. Then he said he remembered seeing me but didn't know why he didn't talk to me.

I explained that I needed a family, that I found no support at church. I had no home teachers, nothing. And because church was not a source of comfort and support to me, it made these men who wanted me all the more tempting... how was I supposed to keep resisting them and the "love" they offered when I had no other place to go? Then he understood. He hung his head in shame and his eyes filled with tears. He admitted that he had been negligent with the singles. He wanted to know what they could do. So I told him. I gave him a list, starting with Family Home Evening. He promised to do something.

Then he gave me a blessing. The other brother offered to be my hometeacher.

I did feel better. I did feel comforted. I didn't drown myself in the bathtub that night.

Poll: Aug. 2007

When should you tell your date you are religious and celibate?

Votes:
2--Right when you meet
4--On the first date
**16--After first date, but before they ask you to come home with them
1--When they start groping you
4--Never! Live and let live baby.

And the winner is: After the first date, but before they ask you to come home with them.