A quick-hits love letter to “Ozploitation” films, the stampede of cruddy cut-rate B movies bred by the Australian cultural craze of the 70s and 80s. It's well-produced, with loads of shiny transitions and a few familiar faces on the couch (Quentin Tarantino, unsurprisingly, is an energetic fan) but it's all cut together with the short attention span you might expect from an episode of VH-1's I Love the 80s. A bunch of talking heads, mostly non-celebrities, gushing about their favorite cinematic turds like a kid on a sugar rush. At least they're passionate about the subject.

That whirlwind of mid-sentence breaks left me feeling dizzied and weary, though, with its constant, breakneck topic shifts, and eventually drained the premise dry. The clips can be very funny, in a “how did that get filmed” sense, but it's easy to get the impression that we're really seeing the only worthwhile shreds of these bombs, and by the end it was all starting to feel a bit boring and redundant. Still, true to the era, there's plenty of footage to fill a solid fifteen-minute devotion to gratuitous nudity, so it does have that going for it.