I have a new favorite bad movie, and it's called Winterbeast. When director Chris Thies agreed to send me a screener copy of his 1991 opus (now available on DVD through Amazon.com or the film's official site), the last thing he said in his email was "brace yourself." I took this for mere hyperbole, a director trying to talk up his creation. For the record, he was not exaggerating, and should you also attempt to watch this one, I would take things a step farther and suggest you gird your loins and perhaps assume a crash position. This isn't just a bad movie, this is the holy freakin' grail of bad movies, a film whose badness is so epic that the works of Ed Wood look downright competent by comparison, and I'm not ashamed to say I loved every minute of it.
Apparently there was an actual script at some point, but based on info in the disc's extras, much of the story was made up on the fly. Our main character is a forest ranger named Bill Whitman, played by Tim Morgan, whose stiff and uncharismatic performance is made up for by a mustache whose behavior can only be described as magical. It changes size frequently, often in mid-conversation, and I half expected it to leap off his face and claim a victim or two of its own. Whitman is told by Deputy Stillman (Mike Magri) that one of their men is missing. Despite the raging storm we hear during this scene, and the fact that the movie is called Winterbeast, there's not a speck of snow on the ground once the movie ventures beyond the confines of the cheap sets. There are monsters in them thar woods, and Whitman and his people must do their best to protect the public at large. We've got totem poles with skeletons tied to them, giant monsters wandering around the woods, a mummy and the titular Winterbeast who is saved for the film's climax.