Tubi is one of my favorite streaming platforms because the laughably bad films available 24/7 are like cinematic catnip. One such abomination I adore is 2010’s Birdemic: Shock and Terror, which is celebrated as one of the worst films of all time and for good reason. Writer/director James Nguyen produced the first Birdemic film in earnest, but took a more self-aware approach to its sequel, Birdemic 2: The Resurrection, simultaneously celebrating and undermining his own incompetence as a filmmaker.
In theory, that sounds like a great idea, but the wink Nguyen gives his audience – letting us know he’s in on the joke – takes the wind right out of the screeching CGI birds’ wings.
Sincerity Matters, And Birdemic 2 Didn’t Have It
Terrible movies are my favorite form of entertainment, but only when they come from a genuine place of unhinged creative passion. Nguyen sincerely thought Shock and Terror was the cautionary disaster flick of a generation, and he missed the mark in every possible way. Between its sloppy execution, half-baked global warming message, flaccid performances, and godawful sound design, Shock and Terror is objectively bad.
But for some reason, it works.
Its charm comes from the fact that the final cut we all know and love is the direct result of everybody involved trying their best and failing miserably while keeping a straight face. The humor wasn’t intentional; it was the byproduct of an inexperienced filmmaker swinging for greatness and whiffing spectacularly.
You can’t fake that kind of creative spirit, and that’s exactly what Nguyen tries to do with Birdemic 2: The Resurrection. By leaning into self-deprecation, he strips away the sincerity that made the first film so entertaining. The result is a movie that tries too hard to manufacture what its predecessor achieved by accident.
Self-Awareness Undermines Genuinely Bad Filmmaking
Much like Tommy Wiseau’s retroactive damage control with his infamous trainwreck The Room, Birdemic 2: The Resurrection feels phoned in, echoing Wiseau’s later efforts. If you can muscle through Wiseau’s short-lived 2015 sitcom The Neighbors, you’ll see exactly what I mean. Wiseau backpedaled so hard after realizing everyone loved his magnum opus for all the wrong reasons that he insisted it was always meant to be a dark comedy. But clearly he didn’t think so at the time of its initial release, as he personally paid for a two-week theater run to qualify The Room for Academy consideration, only to be laughed out of the industry.
The Neighbors, unlike The Room, is deliberately awful and maybe even bingeable for a weekend. But Wiseau’s self-awareness and insistence that he’s both in on the joke, and the embodiment of it, kills the magic. The Room endures as ultimate midnight-movie fodder not because Wiseau was clever, but because his fearless, clueless approach created something unforgettable.
Birdemic 2 Was No Longer A Labor Of Love
In his attempt to cash in on the “so bad it’s good” market, Nguyen’s career mirrors Wiseau’s. Birdemic 2: The Resurrection is too self-aware to have the same effect on audiences as Shock and Terror. Most of its genuinely laugh-out-loud moments still come from its piss-poor sound design, problematic gunplay, and wooden acting. The self-referential humor about what makes a successful film franchise, including characters pausing to talk about moviemaking, falls flat because it panders to an audience that knows the difference between a bad movie made in earnest and one that’s manufactured in its attempt to recapture lightning in a bottle.
As of this writing, you can stream Birdemic 2: The Resurrection for free on Tubi, along with the rest of the franchise.
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