Long before Marvel and DC actually figured out how to portray their characters on screen, George Lucas delivered us the steaming pile of bird crap called HOWARD THE DUCK.
It was 1986, Lucas was a couple years past Return of the Jedi and somehow, someway, produced one of the worst films of all time.
The story is such a heap of unintelligible non-jokes, unfunny delivery and pointless action its like 110 minutes of torture by boredom.
Howard arrives from another planet exactly like Earth, except for the fact that ducks fulfill all the human roles.
That could be a fun concept, but writers Willard Huyck and Gloria Katz (American Graffiti, Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom) mine literally NO laughs, no wonder and no interest out of it. Huyck also directed this mega-bomb, the last film he ever directed, for painfully obvious reasons.
Poor Lea Thompson is the duck's love interest (which is as awkward as it sounds) a young Tim Robbins is a bumbling sidekick, John Barry's music score disappears after the first half, replaced by an 80's misfire music mishmash.
ILM's mid 80's effects are green screen disasters and even Thomas Dolby (She Blinded Me With Science) misfires with a musical theme cleverly called "Howard the Duck!" that ends with the billed dimwit dancing across the stage playing electric guitar.
With a budget of $35 million and a total box office of $16 million, this stinker derailed Thompson's career from HOT to oh-oh and left audiences scratching their heads.
There are bombs that are guilty pleasures (Dune) bombs that are so over the top they're fun (Jupiter Ascending) and then bombs that are so bad on every level they are the cinematic equivalent of waterboarding.
Which is somehow appropriate when dealing with this lame duck. Like every joke it throws out, Howard lands with a thud and a bright orange F.