Don't get confused, though. Polymorph is no one's idea of an appetizing experience. Helmed by that hero of the half-assed, the always-trying and sometimes-succeeding independent entity J. R. Bookwalter (of The Dead Next Door and Ozone fame) and featuring one of the most muddled narratives ever to rip-off several more salient films, this angry ET on the loose stool sample is dumb, ridiculous and borderline retarded. It combines crappy F/X (even in their newly retooled digital ideal) mediocre acting and a complete lack of scares or splatter. Indeed, if you picked up the print and ran it through an amusement wringer, you might wind up with a couple of drop of delight here. The rest is just goofy, gooey gouda. And it's this fantastic fermented milk facet that turns this turd into a true Danish Blue delicacy. Polymorph is so incredibly cheesy that fondues and patty melts are justifiably jealous. It's so jam packed with baffling brie-ability, and laced with enough mediocre marscapone to give the lactose intolerant an instant case of the grunts. No one will ever be confusing this for a professional production filled with chills, spills and thrills. But it is a fabulously fetid lump of feta.

The DVD:
When a gang of drug dealers learns that a government agency is spying around their cabin hideout, they decide to take action. Their lunatic, trigger-happy lookout goes scouting for the Feds, who turn out to be a research scientist and his security guard escort. Seems a meteorite landed in the woods nearby, and they are there to explore the crash site. They've even called some university interns to come and help with the examination. A couple of rounds of ammo later, and our interloping investigators are floating to the bottom of the local swamp. While disposing of the corpses, the aggravated assassin gets some strange green slime in her leg. Before she knows it, goop is pouring from the wound and she winds up, face down, on the criminal's cottage floor.

When the rest of her dope pushing pals show up, they discover the interns looking over her inanimate body, a bag of cocaine conveniently opened up on the nearby dining table. Of course, this is how the kids found the scene when they stumbled in. All they really wanted was a phone to call their missing employer. Naturally, the thugs don't buy their story, and some slight fisticuffs ensue. When the young ones manage to get the upper hand, they lock the hoodlums in their hidey hut and run for help. Without warning, the once dead doper rises from the floor. She seems fine, except for the green laser fire shooting from her eyes. Apparently, she has become a polymorph, an alien being that can take the form of any creature it inhabits, or that lives inside of the bodies of others, something like that. Anyway, the mobsters take off after the kids as the pissed off space bug starts killing everyone. On the off chance that someone manages to destroy its "host", it finds the nearest human carcass to sublet. Before long it's an all out war between the good guys, the bad guys and the interstellar icky known as the Polymorph.

So, you may be asking yourself, what makes a movie like Polymorph an acceptable piece of bad cinema trash, while other irritating examples of the gangrenous genre are tossed into the landfill of loser-dom. Actually, scientists at several major universities have been studying this very concept (not directly with Polymorph mind you: they have a much broader spectrum of celluloid sputum to work from) and have come up with some preliminary data. While it is by no means conclusive – there is still a series of trials set up with the entire Problem Child filmography, as well as the complete Yahoo Serious catalog to explore – these tireless researchers have come up with a sextet of elements that must exist before a horrible hunk of motion picture pus can cross over into refined ricotta territory.

However, even with all of these necessary chevre situations in place, a homemade movie can still come up septic when the final parameters are perused. It takes a delicate balance of bravado and brainlessness, an exact mixture of bemusement and brass bullions to make it all work. Applying the same methodology that Niels Bohr implemented to discover the theories behind his groundbreaking work in quantum mechanics, we will look at each condition individually, to see if Polymorph really does pass the mathematical muster. The results may indeed be astounding – or at least entertaining to read:

(1) Highly Implausible Plotting – no SO-BIG movie (translation for the layman: So Bad It's Good) would even begin to be considered cheese worthy if it did not have this aspect ingrained in its filmic personality. The convoluted narrative, the storyline so unhinged that it makes the mentally unbalanced feel positively prescient, is the cornerstone of any certifiable cheddarama. The other aspects of awfulness can swell and ooze in various stages of terribleness, but without the HIP, you'd either have nothing, or some manner of Oscar fodder, neither of which is conducive to SO-BIGening.

Polymorph passes this test with frequently flying colors. It actually mangles four separate story strands – drug dealing thugs, scientific investigation, alien invasion and uncomfortable blind date romance – into a horribly heady stew of incongruous ideas. Watching this scattered script constantly attempt to right and redirect itself is one of this movies many misguided pleasures. Extra crap credit must be given to actor James "Lonnie" Edwards for crafting a screenplay that functions as uncomfortably as a cohesive whole, as he himself appears on screen (Lonnie is going through an "awkward" phase in this film, to say the least). As divergent elements sideswipe and crash head on into each other, we audience members simply sit back and watch the mozzarella mayhem ensue. But make sure to keep that neck rigid. Polymorph's plotting has been known to cause irreversible whiplash.

(2) LAM/B – a cutesy acronym that stands for Lame Ass Monster or Beast, a SO-BIG requires a LAM/B if it is ever going to hope for a place in the pantheon of the Provolone. It is almost impossible to satisfy this requirement with a serial killer or a spree slaughterer (sorry Jason). No, you've got to have a creature to create a crappy creature feature. So, what makes a good, or should that be bad LAM/B? Studies have shown that audiences usually respond to really inept make-up effects, some manner of plastic suit or mask (usually with obvious zipper or seam showing) a complete lack of believable articulation and a delusional sense of scope and scariness.

Surprisingly, Polymorph has none of this. Using a Hidden hierarchy for its extraterrestrial terror, we only witness humans as hosts for Poly's patented people killing, and even then, the only way we know that these individuals are possessed is that they shoot stupid green lights out of their eyes and hands. As Count Floyd would opine, "OOO kids, that's REEEEAAAALLL scary". Well, no it's not, and that's the entire point. There is not one damnable thing horrifying about a pissed off actor firing CGI flares out of their body parts. No attempt is made to alter the man-monster's appearance, no face appliances or greasepaint gruesomeness - just some dinner theater thespian giving everyone the evil eye. Frankly, you really can't get more LAM/B disgraceful than this (apparently, the next reports from the scientists will include the Polymorph under the "exception that proves the rule" addendum to their study), so even without a viable beastie, Poly passes the test.

(3) Sufficiently Stilted Dialogue – while it is possible that Polymorph has STD's (this critic wasn't really paying attention), it does offer SSD in dreadful droves. The definition of this element is easy: lines must be laced with clichés, formulaic fretting and over the top tantrums. Characters must be poorly defined, if at all, and they must consistently talk at, not to, each other. Everything about the conversations must be assertions, or better yet, pointless exposition, and the lack of a personality dynamic must be countermanded by a lot of preposterous techno-speak. Toss in some incredibly inert jokes, a few failed attempts at interpersonal interaction and a classic clunker of a quotable (in Polymorph's case, it's "So, how's your wiener") and you're all set. And indeed, everything mentioned beforehand describes the scribe work of the lamentable Lonnie to a tainted "T".

(4) Acting Extremes - there are only two acceptable thespian ideals in a SO-BIG: scenery chewing screeds and/or amateurish awkwardness. The first concept is obviously the easiest to identify. The performer takes every line as if it was a mandate from the Messiah, and delivers it in tones that would actually crack the Earth's mantle, if the circumstances were right. They flail and careen as if fighting against an unseen nurse with a collection of needles, and when all is said and done, they de-evolve into a pool of overdone emotions, wailing and sobbing as if they'd just been told that the Easter Bunny has terminal scabies. These powder keg prima donnas can single-handedly destroy a film with their Method masturbation. That is why the SO-BIG needs an equal amount of non-professional paltriness to realign the entertainment equilibrium.

Sadly, the totally inept actor is very hard to come by. They usually refrain from making public appearances simply because of the amount of drool they produce while trying to perform, and their line readings are usually so loopy that the screenwriters turn stalker, hoping to wipe their wasted aptitude off the map. Polymorph gives us a nice balance between the histrionic and the horrid. The over-emoters are self-evident: Tom Hoover as the drug lord, Sasha Graham as the unsane lookout, and good old Lonnie as the wounded wuss wannabe blind dater. In any other movie, the terribly talentlessness would be as hard as a hooker with a heart of gold to spot. But in Polymorph, the usual suspects are front and friggin' center: Joseph A. Daw and Jennifer Huss as one of the irritating interns and his wench, Pam Zitelli and Leo Anastasio as hopeless hitmen, and Peter Jacelone is the most unconvincing scientist since those guys who discovered cold fusion. Added together with Ariana Albrights pitch perfect performance (so she's an oddity here – sue me) and you have a completely evenhanded SO-BIG solution.

(5) Technological Limitations – granted, making movies is not easy. There are literally dozens of sound and vision variables to take into consideration before being able to realize your personal pictograms onscreen. Bad lighting, inaudible voices, underdeveloped filmstock or overexposed negatives can all undermine your muse. Even in the realm where Polymorph exists – the handheld digital camcorder conceits of the late 90s – the sciences conspire to keep you crude. Though it has obviously been further remastered and manipulated to look a trillion times better than it originally played, Polymorph still seems stunted by the vacuous viewfinder foibles of its creation. The flawed framing reveals roads in the supposed middle of woods. We enter allegedly windowless rooms that hide their easily evident panes behind a colored blanket. And there is an ample amount of Commodore/ Amiga style computer animation (the opening space shots are priceless) to callously carbon date this entire affair.

(6) A Love for Filmmaking – perhaps the most potent of all the parameters necessary to make a mere mound of mung into a delicious SO-BIG diversion, there has to be a genuineness and a joy in bringing something, anything to the silver screen that is evident in every frame. You really have to adore the dimensions of the entire experience, lose yourself in the primitive possibilities of your homemade movie and fly by the seat of your pantomime in order to overcome all the previous pitfalls listed. Since it is almost impossible to make a SO-BIG on purpose (isn't that right, Lost Skeleton of Cadavra???), such a dimwitted devotion must arrive organically, flowing freely from the photography like a wide open water tap. Polymorph has this unrefined resilience in spades, a 'pulled up by the bootstraps' bravado that almost wipes away the stench of all the other problematic prerequisites. You can actually sense the affection for the process in Bookwalter and crew. They inject every single moment of this movie with an easy earnestness that's like hot fudge on a snot sundae. While their movie might not always make sense, their love of the logistics is always unmistakable.

Actually, Polymorph isn't really all that bad. It does stink of a thousand unexplored opportunities and stumble over its own low budget limitations time and time again. But one thing you have to give J. R. Bookwalter and his amiable, if awkward cast, is that they really seem to enjoy the entire moviemaking procedure. No matter the war stories that come about later, or the prepackaged memories that heighten the hardships while forgetting the fun, you can see a group of people completely drunk on the potent potable that is cinema. Many of us would give our right arm – or at least a couple of wisdom teeth – to have a shot at celluloid immortality. It's the third most popular fantasy behind unlimited wealth and a date with the Olson Twins. The individuals in Polymorph have taken the first, flawed steps toward making that sense of timelessness exist. Most of us will simply continue our lives of quiet desperation, falling asleep to the sound of our own screams, just like Leopold Starch. But Polymorph will always exist on their resume, a firm reminder that, in a world of wishers, they actually did something. So, the 'something' smells a bit, and barely lives up to its possibilities. So what. Nothing satisfies a b-movie maven more than a huge honking helping of sliced and processed SO-BIG cheese. While not close to Kraft, Polymorph is still pretty darn de-lish, from a completely Camembert perspective.

The Video:
In much of the Making-Of material, Polymorph crewmembers discuss how this film was the first ever shot on digital video by Tempe Entertainment. Bookwalter even discusses some of the tweaks made to amplify the image in post-production and for the remastered DVD release. Now granted, Polymorph does shimmer with a quasi-professional sheen that looks light years ahead of other product produced by the company. But the 1.33:1 full screen transfer still has some issues. One is with the limitations of early DV cameras. Whenever the lens pans across the action, you can see minor print buckling, as if the microprocessor is trying to catch up to the visuals being captured. Also, the day for night looks like Hell, with far too many misleading 'moonshadows' to sell the situation. While it's not as terrible as other titles in the Tempe catalog, Polymorph is in no way a reference quality presentation.

The Audio:
The best aspect of Polymorph is the incredibly professional sound. One of the main issues with homemade movies is the normally nominal aural attributes, as dialogue drops out, music becomes shrill and distorted and sound effects get lost in a sea of hiss and bad mixing. Wearing its brand new Dolby Digital 5.1 Surround scheme proudly, this film sounds fine. The actors are always understandable, the soundtrack is pristine and discreet, and we get a lot of "BANG" for our folly buck here. More so than the mediocre visuals, the sonic situation from Tempe is near perfect.

The Extras:
Tempe usually tricks out their DVDs with all manner of bonus material, and Polymorph is no exception. This special edition disc contains a wealth of trailers, a nice gallery selection, a color insert complete with essay by director Bookwalter, a DVD-Rom section with a copy of the screenplay, and a few fine featurettes. The best contextual element is a 30-minute documentary that sits down 90% of the cast to discuss the reasons for, and their reminiscences of, making this madcap movie.

All the participants are pleasant and talkative, and they really paint a picture of how Polymorph was refashioned and reconfigured to fit budget and personnel limitations. With only Bookwalter missing from the Q&A (one wonders why), this is a thoroughly engaging extra. So are the bloopers and outtakes, audition footage and on-set selection of footage. Together, they illustrate how hard in general everyone works on an independent movie, and why, sometimes, even the best intentions are met with disappointment.

Even better at arguing this point are the pair of full length commentaries from select member of the Polymorph gang. The first one offers director Bookwalter and actors James "Lonnie" Edwards, Tom Hoover, and Joseph A. Daw, and it is excellent. This is the 'Making-Of' discussion, a roundtable rip apart of the entire Polymorph process. As Bookwalter guides us through the technical and cinematic specifics, Edwards, Hoover and Daw provide the anecdotes and the insights that illustrate how successful/unsuccessful they feel the movie actually is. Genial, funny and full of details, this is an excellent alternative narrative track.

Equally effusive is the second conversation between Bookwalter and actresses Ariauna Albright. Instead of dealing with the behind the scenes situations of Polymorph, this is more of a dialogue and a lament on the state of the independent horror film and homemade moviemaking in general. Albright is incredibly opinionated and she is more than happy to name names, call out crappy productions, and reflect on the redolent irregularities of the camcorder age. Albright does touch on the narrative at times, but she would rather muse over her entire career and the lack of opportunities currently available. No matter what she is saying, however, this is still an incredibly involving exchange.

Final Thoughts:
Thanks to the tireless efforts of men and women around the world, we now have a much better idea of how SO-BIG cinema comes into being. But if you want the shorthand version of all the endless research, countless hours of bottom shelf video viewing and arcane, near inarticulate science speak, ditch the dithering eggheads and pick up a copy of Polymorph. In this made-in-Ohio mess, you will witness spine tingling HIPs, voracious LAM/Bs, succulent SSDs, enough AE to give Stanislavsky the squirts, and more affection for filmmaking – even within the severest of technological limits – than most humans should be allowed to have. Put them all together and you've got a film that "So Bad, It's Good", a quagmire of queso so aggressively aromatic that you can whiff its whey from halfway across the planet. On those bum dribbler kind of days where nothing seems to go right and life keeps lobbing loogies instead of porn stars at you, nothing satiates the sagging spirits better than a healthy dose of motion picture parmesan. And when it comes to SO-BIG cheese, nothing says snack better than Polymorph. Enjoy!

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