like man this movie really sucked like it's down man real down!

I remember this, the remake that use to be shown on Showtime was a lot better. This is ok if you like to watch the original first.

The self indulgent beat generation, poets who don't knowit, expounding existentialistic drivel from the bowels of Grenwitch Village NY, get reamed in this satirical stab at cover up murder as art, as beat philosophy was mostly cover up murdering of what was art beforehand. The generation was marked as Rebels Without a Clue, in that the freeform criticism of what went before had no zeitgeist except critical angst, it never went farther than criticis. It took the young being sent to slaughterhouse Vietnam to actually go the real mile and create true counterculture, but there was enough beat generation left in the rest of the population to indulge in mindaltering drugs and make no statement or contribution except drop out.So as counterculture of the fifties murders art, so does murder under cover of equally dense mud become art. The rest of the film, as the straighter crowd discovers something is really wrong with this sh!t tries to wrestle sanity back from the horror, and finds out the horror hangs itself.For a nickel dime production, a lot got said and well. Too bad nobody listened hard back then. All they got was, this beat era will burn itself out, cover itself with mud, and hang itself eventually.For that much, the film is important.

I think Bucket of Blood is generally remembered as a minor Corman film, but, over time, I find it to be one of the best. It's humor is midnight black and its take on "art" is hilarious. The script is actually quite good for having been filmed so quicky. Dick Miller, in the lead, plays the bumbling, aspiring Walter to perfection.

One thing about cult films... you either get them or you don't. The same for "A Bucket Of Blood". A tale about a man who admires and wishes to be an artist in but has no talent at all... accidentally creates "art" from an orthodox manner and wows the same people whom he felt he could never swing with. Suddenly being part of the pack he is forced to create more art only knowing the same manner. Irony and humor in this is in the Beat movement. "What is not creation is graham crackers..." poetry that makes no sense, art that looks like a child made it... it was a period of time where art was very subjective to the viewer and population of the culture surrounding it. Normally small cafes or clubs that had galleries and poetry nights. The desire to belong depended mostly on the artists ability to mix with the population of that club socially. Our tragic hero... will finally achieve what he wants.... but how!? A great ironic film that honestly makes you wonder... what is art... who is the viewer and who is right or wrong! I guess you have to have a dark sense of humor to get it.