Sir John Barrowman, We Commend Your Wit…

So as a director, you hire a witty, randy, gay Scottish actor to slum it up in your Z-grade, mostly-dubbed over monster epic. He likely takes the job as an excuse for a vacation in an exotic setting, and he’s obviously laughing during sequences that are supposed to be tense and harrowing.

The time comes to shoot a key moment of romance between he and the film’s wooden leading lady after the horrible demise of another character. He’s a pro in the kiddie pool, so you let him improvise his dialogue in order to ratchet up his costar’s performance. He deadpans an ab-libbed line he assumes is destined for the cutting room floor, but because the project’s a total howler anyway, you opt to leave it in the final cut, thus ensuring Shark Attack 3: Megalodon‘s ascension into immortality and the coining of a douchey come-on that’s since been used countless times but has never actually scored.

Hat tip to Michael Adams.