Howard the Duck, for better or worse, is the only movie to ever make me think: Holy fuck, did I just see duck tits?!?!
That moment occurs before the opening title as Howard is being propelled through the walls of his apartment building as he clings to his TV chair, which eventually shoots him up into outer space, before he lands on Earth for no discernible reason that I was able to catch.
Fuck me!
There he spends an hour of an ungodly two hour running time just, ya know, being a duck that talks. Is he a hero? Is he a bad guy? Does he have special powers? Am I supposed to like him, because I don't?
What the hell is this movie supposed to be about?
He meets a girl (Lea Thompson) who takes him to a scientist (Tim Robbins) blah blah blah until the principal from Ferris Bueller's Day Off starts talking real funny and glowing purple in a cafe before blowing the holy fuck out of the place with crazy video-game fireball thingers he shoots out of his hands.
Look, I couldn't make this shit up even if I wanted to.
Why does any of this happen? Your guess is as good as mine. But that doesn't prevent Howard from saving the day with a big ass laser gun.
Fuck me!
Why did anyone in their right mind put a script about absolutely nothing with a duck for a main character into production with a budget of thirty-five million dollars? In 1986!!!!
Who did executive producer George Lucas and co. really think this was going to appeal to? Although good for longevity, you can't recoup 35 mill off of stoned teenagers alone.
I hope one of Steve Jobs' final phone calls was to George Lucas, thanking him for this train wreck.
Oh, by the way, did I mention this movie has lasers?
That's worth something, no?
