Neither good nor bad: how cult films are made

Neither good nor bad: how cult films are made

Why are some movies revered even if no one considers them good? This question drives a cinephile debate that, rather than providing a single answer, has instead built an entire catalog. The conclusion reached by user Ciudadano 0 is uncomfortable for the typical fan: quality is not the criterion. A cult film is not necessarily the best, the highest-grossing, or even the most remembered. It is the one backed by a group willing to defend it against the rest.

That support is what separates personal taste from a phenomenon. When only one person claims a movie, it is their favorite. When a significant number of people claim it, it begins to be a cult classic. What no one can guarantee is that this inventory will ever be complete.

From Easy Rider to The Warriors: what sustains a cult film

Some titles rely on a single scene. The opening of Easy Rider, with its motorcycles, flags, and Steppenwolf rock, is described as brutal even by those who do not remember the film as entertaining. That minimum—a song, a shot, a poster—is enough for someone to still be talking about it decades later.

In other cases, cult status is born from controversy. The Warriors, panned by critics upon its release, faced suspicion of inspiring outbreaks of vandalism. Paramount even went as far as to withdraw its advertisements from radio and television.

Spain has its own cinematic pantheon

The tackiest comedies of the late Franco era and the grittiest pavor of the seventies share the same spotlight. The films starring Una manola and Esteso are championed in the forum as gems of social critique, using Spanish hypocrisy as a backdrop. This is no isolated whim: Ciudadano 0 notes that many people are nostalgic for those films.

On the darker side appears La semana del malo (1972), by Eloy de la Iglesia, one of the films with the most scenes cut by censorship in the history of Spanish cinema and directly banned in Great Britain. It was shot in English and released abroad as The Cannibal Man.

“Jaws 3” without being Jaws: when B-movies outearn the original

One of the most cited cases is El último escualo (1981), an Italian production that shamelessly copied scenes from the first two installments of the shark saga and ended up banned in the United States for plagiarism. A striking detail occurred in Spain: it was released as “Tiburón 3” (Jaws 3), and the public flocked to see it, believing they were watching the authentic third part.

The Italian imitation earned more in Spain than the actual third installment, which did not reach theaters until a couple of years later.

Lemon Popsicle and the business of endless sequels

Before teen cinema became a global industry, a 1978 Israeli comedy paved the way. Polo de limón generated up to 8 sequels and a Hollywood remake, The Last American Virgin (1982), directed by the same director. It is credited as the precursor to the teen sensual comedy genre.

Giallo and fantaterror: genres that never age

Italian suspense from the sixties and seventies—the giallo, led by Mario Bava and Dario Argento—and Spanish fantastic pavor—fantaterror, antiestéticaturing Jesús Franco, Paul Naschy, Jorge Grau, and Amando de Ossorio—have been revisited in the conversation due to their cult films. Both genres coexist on the same list as The 400 Blows, Truffaut's film that launched the Nouvelle Vague and led to four more films about the same character.

How many people does it take to make a cult film?

This is the question that remains unanswered. A single admirer is not enough; that is merely a private preference. A community is needed to uphold the label, which explains why the term applies to titles that have nothing in common except their audience. Some, like the user Tanchus, denounce the snobbery of certain cultural labels.