There's room in the world of cinema for very low-budget horror -- there are plenty of "psychotronic" films shot in bedrooms and backyards that are hilariously fascinating -- but there should be no acceptance of rank amateurism palmed off as professional work. Director Doris Wishman's 1983 slasher epic A Night to Dismember has absolutely nothing going for it except a catchy title. It's insultingly bad, infuriating terrible, and, worse, it's somehow managed to achieve cult status over the years. Thankfully, it's only 69 minutes long, but even that feels like an eternity as the story -- told in voiceover narration, not actual dialogue like in "real" movies -- moves from one cramped, dark set to the next. There's fake blood by the gallon, gratuitous but unsexy nudity, laughable effects, nutty jump cuts, out-of-focus inserts, choppy music -- it has the consistency of a bad dream, but don't for a minute assume that was Wishman's intent. Even bad art can be good art in context. This isn't art at all -- it's just bad.