Note from the editor: You may have enjoyed a column in The 405 in year's past called "Trailer Trashed". "Trailer Trash" in contrast is planned as something which speaks for itself and stands on its own, an entirely new column written by a contributor who has an incredible voice very much his own. With that being said, enjoy the first installment of "Trailer Trash". -Wess

Movie trailers have existed since Gorak finger-painted on a cave wall about his latest hunting adventure. The paintings made the clan want to hear the whole story, with dancing and sound effects and costumes.

I remember as a kid (don't start with me!) sitting in a cavernous theater watching trailers that boggled my mind. How the hell could they fit all of that action into one movie?

I hate shitty movie trailers and am going to make you hate them, too! Fun for everyone, unless you make the shitty movie trailers. . . then maybe not so much. But first, let's look at a good one.

Go ahead and watch the original trailer for Quigley Down Under embedded below. Good chance you've already seen the movie, and you should see it again. It holds up.

The trailer for Quigley is light-hearted, slightly comical, but the film has a very serious topic. You can clearly see the movie is a western, set in Australia. There are lots of fights, lots of shooting, and just enough Laura San Giacomo. Well, almost enough. It makes me want to watch the movie, which is pretty much the only godddamn reason for trailers to exist.

The fuckers today would have driven the story off a cliff in pursuit of their own fatally boring earnestness. It would have been grim and full of self-importance. Like, say, the main subject of this column, The Kindergarten Teacher from Netflix. Catch the trailer for it below.

Two things are a dead giveaway that a trailer is selling snake oil: the music and the social proof.

This trailer music attempts to set a tense mood but it has nothing to visually support that intention. Plus, the cellos couldn't create tension around the Green River Killer.

Social proof is where the trailer tries to convince you that you need to see our moovee and here are people smarter than you who will tell you why. Also, this film won some fucking awards, as evidenced by the stylized fern leaves, or whatever they are. (If I ever make a film there will suddenly be new film awards that all go to my movie. I will smother the entire fucking screen with fern leaves. Or whatever they are.)

Trust in this: the harder a trailer works to show you what critics and judges think of the movie, the more the movie stinks like Satan's outhouse on Taco Tuesdays.

Mags Gyllenhaal is perfectly cast and you know she’ll do her part, so to speak. She is a terrific actor and always a delight to see perform. My gripes have nothing to do with her abilities.

The filmmakers have written entire new volumes for the Encyclopedia Didactica. Saying they overdid every little fucking thing is like saying Thor's hammer is kinda heavy. If it's this evident from the trailer then sitting through the entire film will have the audience preferring to being drawn and quartered.

The color palette was dreamed up by someone who liked what was done with The Sixth Sense and The Matrix but thought they were far too subtle. Everything is a shade ranging from aqua blue to chalkboard green, with splotches of reds in every damn frame. The effect becomes annoying by the end of the stupid trailer. God help anyone who tries to sit through the movie.

The key moment, when Mags overhears some random blabbering from one of her students and decides that he's the first poetry prodigy in the history of mankind, the filmmakers just can't let the fucking scene stand on its own legs. A sign on the door reads, "Ears are listening."

Ears were listening. Too bad nobody had any brains to interpret what was heard. When the kid, who has been pissing in a toilet for a grand total of four years, is the one person with any sense at all ("Why are you calling me?" he asks his lunatic teacher) the story done got it some problems, y'all.

Whether or not the filmmakers are idiots, they clearly think we are. They think we, the audience, are incapable of figuring shit out on our own so they must bludgeon us with their "cleverness."

Which brings up a key trait of many modern trailers: they tell the whole goddamn story. As annoying as that can be it is also a huge time saver. "At least now I don't have to watch that movie," said me, 982 times. Now 983.

There's no mystery left, not a single compelling reason to subject myself to two hours of the movie when the trailer was less fun than having kidney stones. The only question remaining is if Mags dies at the end but who the fuck cares?

I will hazard a guess that she does die because people who write this shit can’t stand the idea of a woman facing the consequences of her actions. Art imitating life, there. You only see women in cuffs at the end if they haven't done anything especially bad. It's why those chicks, I mean adult human females, had to drive off of a cliff at the end of that one fantasy flick. You know the one.

Too bad they didn't show Ajay Naidu, now a father but still saying, "Mother... shitter... Son of an... ass." I'd be willing to fast forward to watch that scene.

L-R Ajay Naidu and David Herman in this still from 1999's OFFICE SPACE.