Basking in the Tropical Afterglow

My reputation as a selector of movies has been ruined forever.

Last night, we watched (and loved) Stardust, to the point where we consider it a serious contender to replace the Princess Bride in our affections. We especially liked Michelle Pfeiffer's evilness
and Robert DeNiro's buffoonery. It seems to fall down a bit in quotability, but we love love loved it.

Tonight, however, we watched the worst film we have ever seen. It's called Over California, and I expected it to be a natural history filmed from above. Instead, it was a collection of not-half bad aerial shots of (mostly) coastal cities accompanied by some nice music and the worst, most syrupy, adjective-laden narration it has ever been our misfortune to hear. We had hoped for interesting facts and amazing footage a la Planet Earth, but this film was amazingly short on facts for a documentary.

We seriously considered turning it off, but then there would be a bit of narration so bad that we were gasping with laughter. So, despite the fact that we hate hate hated it, we kept watching in the hopes that it would top itself.

Finally, the narration soared to meet our dearest dread. As the sun was setting over LA (the film had a penchant for sunset shots over cities, during which the narrator would bid them a fond farewell generously larded with complimentary adjectives), the narrator waxed lyrical about how LA was bathing in its tropical afterglow.

Tropical afterglow? Tropical afterglow? TROPICAL AFTERGLOW?

We have decided that we must immediately market something as Tropical Afterglow. But what should it be? A bath oil or cocktail seemed most appropriate, or perhaps a sunburn lotion or sexual aid.

Given the number of musicians in the family, however, we have settled on a rock band. Right now, Tropical Afterglow seems to consist mostly of drums and kazoos.

We have not laughed so hard in many moons as we did this evening. Don't get this film, don't watch it, and, whatever you do, don't steal the Tropical Afterglow brand idea from us.

A collaborative haiku on the subject:

haiku has no place
for tropical afterglow --
poison oak on fire