For the past six weeks at the Central Cinema, I've been hosting From Bad to Worse: A Six-Week Study in Cinematic Terribleness, in which six movies renowned for their horribleness were screened in their entirety before an audience free to sass back and order beer and pizza.

It's been a great, funky time, in part because of how oddly dramatic these past six weeks have been, with the recession and the snow and snow and floods and more recession. But every Monday night, we'd put aside our daily stresses and dive into the crappiest films known to man. I'm tempted to say "I learned a lot!," but I'm actually left with mostly questions. Is it morally defensible to ask people to leave their homes and pay money to watch Leonard Part Six? When humanity faces its ultimate Judgment Day, will Sylvester Stallone's performance in Rhinestone be used to damn the species for eternity? And who knew so many grown men and women would be willing to brave snow and ice and sleet (SLEET!) to see Can't Stop the [Fucking] Music?

Through all of these screenings I've sat in the back and watched both the films and their audiences, wearing a lavender chenille robe exactly like Cristal Conners' above. It has been illuminating. Thanks to all who've participated, especially the small handful of individuals who sat within earshot of me and said things so hilarious I was required to stop the film and share your private wisecracks with the group. (You know who you are).

The final screening in the series is this Monday, when we'll behold the horror that is Gigli.

Two days later at the Showbox, I'll be hosting a one-night screening of the greatest, richest, and most entertaining of all horrible films—Showgirls, which has served as a key referent throughout From Bad to Worse, hovering over the series like a glittery smog. (Showgirls screens at 8pm on Wed Jan 14, full info here.)