The Worst Film We May Never See

Every once in a while, you happen upon the development of a film which begs one major, unshakeable question: why?

Why did anyone ever come up with this idea? Why did anyone then green-light this? Why did any self-respecting actor decide to say yes? Not since I read of Ron Howard's proposed Caché remake have I had such a profoundly unsettled feeling.

Then came Frankie and Alice.

Any lover of bad cinema as art will already know the name. As will any surviving Halle Berry completists, if in any sick, depraved part of the world they actually still exist. That's right, one-time Oscar winner turned Razzie mainstay Halle Berry is top-lining this one. She seems to be on some sort of self-destructive mission to wreck whatever career she used to have by starring in films like Catwoman or 'sexy' cyber-thriller Perfect Stranger. It's a shame, as even in her lowest moments, if you squint, you can still see some of the raw talent that lit up Monster's Ball.

Whether or not that will be visible in Frankie and Alice is questionable. Firstly, here is the official synopsis to whet your appetite:

A drama centered on a young woman with multiple personality disorder who struggles to remain her true self and not give in to her racist alter-personality.

You read that correctly. Halle Berry is playing a woman with multiple personalities, one of which is a racist. Doesn't this sound like some sort of Dave Chappelle sketch? Or at least the plotline of a raucous comedy, rather than a serious psychological drama.

What shocking events are to take place? Will we see Halle burning crosses on her parents’ lawn? Or having heated arguments with her reflection? The possibilities for unintentional comedy gold are endless. The entire exercise simply boggles the mind. Does Halle actually want the Academy to take her Oscar back? Who is this film being made for?

On paper the combination of Halle Berry and 'racist split personality' makes it sound like a tailor-made wet dream for those of us who proudly own Showgirls on DVD and have a stack of favourite lines, ready to recite ('What are these, watermelons? This is a stage, babe, it's not a patch').

With The Room mania currently seeping through the UK and Best Worst Movie gaining critical acclaim on the festival circuit, bad cinema is finally getting the unintentional respect it has long deserved. Because to create a truly bad film, a filmmaker must genuinely believe that he or she is creating a truly great film.

The signs look good for this one. A friend had seen a promo at Cannes and described Halle's performance as 'earnest'. A 'boob-slip' on set was all over the tabloids at the end of last year. It arrives from the writer of Save the Last Dance, a film where blunt racial stereotypes reigned supreme. Worryingly though, it is yet to possess a distributor either here or in the US.

For all of those people who re-watched Lindsay Lohan's performance as a one-armed, one-legged stripper in I Know Who Killed Me, consider yourself implored to write to your local council and get something done about this. You see, in years to come, Bad Movie Clubs will need new fodder to be mercilessly ripped apart. We can’t keep talking about brown rice and vegetables forever…