This is one of a few products responsible for teaching me the power of marketing. Well, in hindsight. I was into the Mario games as a child and seeing the 1993 Super Mario Bros. movie on the shelves of rental stores made me shit question mark blocks every time. I’d invariably rent it, watch it, then experience confusion at why I was bored and miserable. After all, Mario game good. If game good, why movie no good? If movie no good, why keep renting?

Now that my Neanderthalic brain has approached something resembling an average human’s, I can comprehend the reality that brands are not synonymous with creative talent. The Mario games were/are good because skilled people created them. The Super Mario Bros. movie is bad because people did a poor job making it. Simple as. Of course, you can examine the intricacies behind that process if you want, such as the notoriously incompetent husband/wife director duo, but the broad sentiment remains true.

This cynical ’90s product has had its defenders over the years, and I’d uncharitably characterize them as of a similar mentality that I described having above before growing out of it. It’s natural to want to like the Super Mario Bros. movie. I get it. Whether someone positions their defense of the movie as being genuinely fun kitsch or “so bad it’s good” depends on the person, but I don’t think it affects the substance of their position.

The Super Mario Bros. movie is simply bad at first blush. Even if we’re to ignore its faithlessness to the original property—which is always a fair criticism, as the creators chose that premise—this movie is shockingly dreary with a depressing color palette of dark greys and brownish oranges. If you had Mario-branded toilet paper with little drawings of the iconic characters and looked at it after wiping your ass, you’d have a visual microcosm of the Super Mario Bros. movie. I’m not even trying to simply be disgusting here; I genuinely think that’s an apt metaphor. This is boring, stupid, and above all else, sad. One part of it wants to be Escape from New York, while its other half is screaming that it cannot be Escape from New York because it’s a damn Mario movie. Flush it down the pipes, Dennis Hopper be damned.

But Bob Hoskins… you’re all right. I just can’t say no to a stereotypical Italian mustache.

(The best moment of this movie is the ever-so sincere prop recreation of a Bob-omb.)