If you scooped a pile of goo out of a backed-up gutter, submerged a pair of electrodes into it, fed it a slurry of protein rich nutrients while sending jolts of ever-increasing voltages of electricity through until it demonstrated the most basic signs of what could technically be considered life, then immediately handed the pile of goo a video camera, it is impossible that it would make a worse movie than Rollergator.

Why is it so bad? Let’s start with the ultra cliched plot: The talking, purple, almost twelve year old alligator is on the run from the skateboard ninja who is employed by the evil carnival owner. We know, we’ve heard it a million times. But here’s where Rollergator differs from all the other talking animals the 90s gave us. Get this: he’s totally in your face. We’re talking x-treme with a capital X, ‘tude with a capital ‘. Does he rap? Please. You may as well ask if Poochie ever hitchhiked to the fireworks factory.

Standing in the way of Rollergator’s goal of endorsing every Blue Razzberry flavored product that 1996 had to offer is Joe Estevez. Joe is the villain, because he merely wants to put Rollergator in a cage, whereas the rest of humanity wants him destroyed in the quickest way possible. Joe thinks people will pay a pretty penny to see Rollergator quip at them. What he doesn’t realize is that nobody will be able to hear Rollergator’s quips because SOME HORRIBLE MUSICIAN IS PLAYING THE SAME AWFUL ACOUSTIC GUITAR RIFF OVER 98% OF THE MOVIE!!!

Shot on video without any fancy pants “microphones” or “lights” or “permits to record here”, Rollergator is truly something to behold. We’re not saying this is the worst movie we’ve ever done here at RiffTrax, but that’s only because we aren’t being asked to do so under penalty of perjury. Please join Mike, Kevin, and Bill for Rollergator.