If Naming Top 100 Films Is Hard, Try Picking 100 Worst

A list of the “100 Greatest American Films of All Time” was presented Tuesday night on television by the American Film Institute, somehow overlooking “Showgirls,” “Ishtar,” “Hudson Hawk,” “Howard the Duck” and all of Ed Wood’s fine films.

Voters can be so picky.

I, like most movie buffs, disagreed with several of the selections. Most of the 100 best did belong, but I took exception to how a number of them ranked.

Including:

No. 7. “The Graduate.” (Too high.)

No. 24. “Raging Bull.” (Too low.)

No. 59. “A Clockwork Orange.” (Way too high.)

No. 80. “The Wild Bunch.” (Way too low.)

Don’t go by my taste, though. I have mine and you have yours. That’s what makes a list like this so interesting.

And that’s why I have decided to produce a list of the “100 Worst American Films of All Time.”

I will do exactly what the AFI did--assemble a “blue-ribbon panel” of members of the film community--to decide which 100 American films from the past 100 years should NEVER be revered, restored or stored inside a time capsule.

Films that shouldn’t be in Cannes.

Films that shouldn’t even be in cans.

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I know you already must be thinking one of two things.

You’re thinking that this is really a “negative” thing to do, in response to such a positive thing that the AFI just did.

Or, you’re thinking of the worst movies you ever saw.

You’re thinking of the time you finally sat through that award-winning masterpiece from Sweden that you had read so much about, the one where Death and a dude who isn’t dead play chess. Now there are two hours of your life that you’ll never get back.

You’re thinking of that musical in which the four main characters sing and dance to Cole Porter’s loveliest songs. It would have made for a lovely film, if only the four main characters could sing or dance.

You’re thinking of that film where John Wayne played Genghis Khan. It could have been worse. We could have seen John as Khan sing and dance.

I have my own, of course.

There’s the one where Janet Leigh and a lot of other unfortunate actors are terrorized by gigantic killer rabbits.

(I hate when that happens.)

There’s the one where Henry Fonda, Michael Caine, Richard Widmark and a lot of other unfortunate actors are terrorized by killer bees.

(I particularly enjoy the part where the bees destroy the city of Houston. In any fight between bugs and Houston, I generally root for the bugs.)

There’s the one where Wesley Snipes plays a baseball star and Robert DeNiro plays a baseball nut who tries to kill Wesley at a baseball game played during a driving rain.

(I’m sure the umpire would have stopped this game on account of rain, if only the killer hadn’t turned out to BE the umpire.)

But who knows? My “100 Worst” list might exclude all of these. There are so many thousands from which to choose, including those shown on Showtime and Cinemax most nights between midnight and 8 a.m.

On the other hand, I might even get votes for films that made the AFI’s 100 Best.

A friend complained to me upon seeing “The Jazz Singer” listed among the top 100 of all time. I had to explain that it was the one with Al Jolson, not the one with Neil Diamond.

Then again, I’ve seen the one with Al Jolson.

Neil Diamond’s was better.

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A big surprise on the AFI’s list was “Fargo,” a 1996 film that ranked 84th. I get a kick out of many things about “Fargo,” including the fact that virtually none of it takes place in Fargo.

Heck of a movie, but top 100?

We all have our favorites. I am personally disappointed by the AFI’s omission of Elia Kazan’s “A Face in the Crowd,” Preston Sturges’ “Sullivan’s Travels,” Mel Brooks’ “The Producers” and Robert Rossen’s “The Hustler.” And in another 100 years, others besides me will figure out that John Ford’s “The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance” is better than his “The Searchers,” any day.

Until then, I’ll work on my 100 Worst list.

One of them is in theaters right now. A large lizard terrorizes New York. I saw it. I rooted for New York.

Mike Downey’s column appears Sundays, Wednesdays and Fridays. Write to him at Times Mirror Square, Los Angeles 90053, or phone (213) 237-7366.