Cinemasochist’s Dungeon of Horrors: Rollergator

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I believe everyone has a purpose in life. For some people, their purpose is grand: to create a life-altering invention, to cure a disease, to lead a country successfully. For other people, their purpose is simple: fall in love, start a family, retire peacefully. As I’ve traversed this wacky world, I’ve tried to find my purpose in life, to no avail. On July 15th, 2015, I finally discovered my purpose in life, that being to review a film about a jive-talking baby alligator.

As the first scene in Donald G. Jackson’s magnum opus “Rollergator” unfolded, I knew I was in for a treat. The film begins with a female teenager being stalked by a carnival owner at his own carnival; we know this is his carnival, as he mutters it under his breath every five seconds, then proves his point by getting on any ride he wants. It’s not clear why this man is stalking this young girl, though it’s possible the dialogue informs us; unfortunately, the soundtrack drowns out the dialogue, making most of it inaudible. Just a few minutes into “Rollergator” and I can’t even hear the dialogue; wonderful!
After the teenager narrowly escapes the perverted carnival owner’s grasp (by simply leaving the carnival), she retreats to the beach to catch some waves. Mixed in with the sound of birds chirping and waves crashing is a call for help, so this plucky young woman does the honorable thing and follows the pleading, leading her to a cave. It’s in this cave that our doe-eyed protagonist makes the world’s greatest discovery: a talking baby alligator.

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You may be asking yourself, “How does an alligator speak English?” Screw you, that’s how! It’s best not to question the logic and reasoning behind “Rollergator,” as doing so will cause you to have a brain aneurysm. To fully enjoy the experience that is “Rollergator,” one must leave logic and good taste at the door and simply revel in the insanity; doing anything on the contrary will result in a bad time (more so than this film already offers).

After the adventurous teenager, who we learn is named P.J. Smith (Sandra Shuker), answers the talking gator’s cry for help, you’d expect him to be jumping for joy, right? Wrong! The talking gator, who I’ll refer to as Rollergator from here on out (despite him never rollerblading), gets sassy with P.J., arguing with her incessantly. At one point, she calls him grouchy, to which he responds, “When you’re the coolest-talking alligator in the world, you can be grouchy!” I can’t argue with that logic! I could argue with the fact that Rollergator combatting P.J.’s assistance is only included so he can utter phrases such as “smelly human” and “booger breath” is ludicrous and annoying, but I won’t, as that would be to question the logic and reasoning behind this film, which I’ve declared is a no-no.

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After P.J. breaks down Rollergator’s senses, he reveals that he’s in trouble with Chico Dennis (Joe Estevez, doing his best Michael Sheen impersonation), the local carnival owner who wants to exploit Rollergator for profit. This doesn’t explain why he was stalking P.J. at the beginning of the film, but it does give this film a purpose, so I’ll let that slide. Rollergator also explains the inexplicable ninja on the beach who was stalking P.J., as she was hired by Chico to track down the gator (again, that doesn’t explain why she was stalking P.J., but whatever).

P.J. agrees to help Rollergator and hide him from the ninja and Chico by taking him to Chico’s carnival because people in this film’s universe have the intelligence of a fruit fly. And wouldn’t you know it, Chico, along with his buffoonish nephew, Reggie (Larry Maddox), capture P.J. and Rollergator; who could’ve seen that coming? One would assume that the talking gator would be locked in a cage and exploited for the public, but that line of thinking is reserved for a screenplay that has direction. The screenplay of “Rollergator,” which required three people to write (Jackson, Matt X. Lawrence, and Scott Shaw), has the gator negotiate with the evil carnival owner and nearly gets a Ferrari, cable television, and an all-expenses paid vacation out of the deal, only for Chico to back out after it’s suggested that the carnival be named after the talking gator (who is never given a name, mind you). This allows for our heroes to simply walk out of the villain’s office, signifying that this film is over twenty minutes into the runtime. Seeing as how there’s an hour left, Chico and his band of misfits revert back to their stalking ways, chasing down P.J. and Rollergator once again. If this is making your head hurt, that just means you have some semblance of sanity. Seeing as how I don’t, I laughed with maniacal glee at all of the absurdity.

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The film gets even more convoluted and pointless as it goes along, as we learn that Rollergator came from a swamp and that his caretaker, a swamp farmer, is looking for him. Instead of doing the logical thing and going back to the swamp, our braindead heroes hide out from the villains and wait for the swamp farmer to find them. Seeing as how P.J. and Rollergator’s idea of hiding out was going to the carnival in which they’re trying to avoid, it comes as no surprise that their next hiding spots include the park, the beach, the overpass, and any other open area where it’s easy to find them. The only time common sense strikes our heroes is when they hide out in P.J.’s apartment, and that only happens so Rollergator can do impersonations of Arnold Schwarzenegger and Elvis Presley, because no talking alligator film is complete without said alligator doing impressions.

What’s amazing about Jackson’s direction is that he never gives the viewer the sense that the protagonists are in danger. He’s already made it quite easy for them to escape the villain’s grasp, and he only makes it easier for them by delivering them random helpers. At one point, they come across another hired thug of Chico’s, this one being a karate instructor (Bobbie Blackford). After P.J. reveals Chico’s nefarious plan, the instructor has a change of heart and sides with the gator and his rollerblading friend (that’s where the “Rollergator” title comes from, I kid you not), providing her services for protection and teaching P.J. the basics of karate. The instructor than reveals that the ninja from earlier is called the Dark Ninja (Lisa Kaake), and is a former student of hers that has been corrupted by Chico. There’s no way acid wasn’t involved in the writing of this script!

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At least the karate instructor’s inclusion makes some semblance of sense. The heroes’ other guardian angel, Slingshot (Jenette Lynne Hawkins), materializes out of thin air during a chase sequence with the Dark Ninja and, for no real reason, shoots the skateboarding ninja (you read that right) and scares her off. Slingshot has no reason for helping out P.J. and Rollergator, other than the fact that she’s a good samaritan. She’s not a smart one, mind you, as she clearly sees the talking gator when skating behind P.J., but then believes the lie that P.J. is just a ventriloquist who uses her backpack as her dummy. Not only is this insulting to one’s intelligence, it doesn’t even last long, as Rollergator accidentally reveals himself a minute later and Slingshot just accepts the fact that P.J. has a talking alligator. Cocaine is a hell of a drug, folks!

Did I mention that Rollergator raps? I probably didn’t, as it serves no purpose other than that Jackson thought it’d be funny to have an alligator rap. Then again, I didn’t even mention all of the quips and pop culture references that come out of the gator’s mouth. These quips include, “What does it look like I’m doing, the electric boogalo?,” “I don’t believe it; a talking nimrod!,” “I’m a teenage mutant power gator!,” “Crocodiles can’t talk; they just mumble a lot,” “That’s a croc!,” and, repeated ad nauseam, “I’m not a baby! I’m almost 12!” Rollergator also makes references to Barney (insinuating that he and the swamp farmer partake in Barney the Dinosaur marathons), as well as previous Donald G. Jackson films, such as “Little Lost Sea Serpent.” It’s at this point that I realize that my life’s purpose isn’t just to review “Rollergator,” but to be witness to Jackson’s entire filmography. What a life I have ahead of me!

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For most, “Rollergator” will be one of the most excruciating film experiences they’ll ever have! The plot is insane, the characters are inept and obnoxious, the villain poses no threat, the film meanders, the soundtrack drowns out the dialogue, and the alligator raps. When I posted about my viewing of this gem, I was met with comments on how this film is horrid and a waste of celluloid. While I’ll never disagree that this film is a disastrous mess, I won’t lie and say I didn’t enjoy it. Throughout the duration of “Rollergator,” I couldn’t stop smiling and laughing at the absurdity of it all. Mind you, I was never laughing with the film, always at it, but that doesn’t change the fact that my viewing experience was a joyous one. “Rollergator” is, without a shadow of a doubt, one of the worst films ever made, but it’s also one of the most enjoyably terrible films ever made and I’m happy that I live in a world where it exists!

Final Rating: FF (Fun Failure)