Welcome to a SPECIAL HALLOWEEN EDITION of

WHAT THE F@&# WERE THEY THINKING?
THEATER

Somebody at DC Comics must have had the DTs they day they conceived this masterpiece. Enter Orson Welles, debasing himself for a paycheck to piss away on "The Chimes at Midnight," an early example of behavior that would become sadly typical throughout his career. Welles was involved in a number of enterprises of dubious dignity, hitting his nadir in the 70s, playing opposite Jimmie "J.J." Walker in an off-off-off-WAYthefuckoff-Broadway touring company production of "Waiting For Godot" that played at steakhouses and flea markets throughout Idaho and part of Montana. Actually, that wasn't his nadir, because he did even worse shit later on, some of which involved livestock, diapers, Nazi war criminals, and-- most notoriously-- Merv Griffin. But it pains me too much to dwell on any of them right now. (And no cracks about Ed Wood, you smartasses. He was a great man! And woman. Don't make me have to get up out of this goddamn casket and come out there!) So, sit back, relax, get plastered, huff some spray paint, beat the spouse and dependents with a tire iron 'til they piss blood, and enjoy this incomprehensible adventure featuring two of America's favorite superheroes versus the whole fucking planet Mars.
(Superman is, of course, copyright DC Comics, Warner Communications, and Jesus H. Christ Almighty. I don't know who owns the copyright on Orson Welles, but it's probably Disney. Martler is in the public domain, like anyone gives a shit.)