To create the illusion of star men vanishing into space, four actors stand as still as possible until the cameraman hits pause. Then it's simply a matter of running off frame without anyone bumping the camera. After screwing that up, the footage is handed over to the man in charge of the company penny. This man scrapes clumsy, almost random chunks of the film off until it looks like something has happened to the film in outer space.

Unfortunately, in a country whose leading export is oil wrestling, this process is also going to get a good deal of cloudy lubricant on the film. So we're left with what looks like an out-of-focus VCR accident.

Not to throw around wild accusations, but it's a suspicious coincidence that thousands of children disappear every year and Turkey's special effects look like they were designed by thousands of unwilling third graders. But in fairness to Turkish Star Trek, this example is taken way out of context. Every bad special effect is surrounded by shots of the Turkish Enterprise's female crew, and their regulation mini skirts so short that if they ran into their gynecologist at the grocery store, he'd feel like he was at work.

The original Superman opens with a long sequence where the credits fly through deep space to the Superman theme. Turkish Superman, or Supermen Donuyor, works hard to recreate the same sequence. Unfortunately, they think a video toaster is a Betamax machine hollowed out and filled with diesel fuel. Their idea of computer-aided visuals is trading your wife a calculator to shave her mustache.

So instead of a dazzling credit sequence, the film opens with a shaky man holding a camcorder and jogging through a shed filled with Christmas ornamenno wait, holy s**t, they think this looks like space! Sometimes Turkish visual effects make you feel like you've solved a puzzle when you realize what they were trying to do. I mean, some of these planets still have glitter snowflakes on them. And those are the ones that look the most realistic since they don't have the fish-eyed reflection of a Turkish camera man bobbing towards them.

It was a pretty ballsy move to include credits. All artistic crimes and copyright issues aside, most of the props and vehicles in Turkish Superman are illegal to touch without a Class 7 Toxic Waste Disposal License. These people drive cars that would give motor oil hepatitis and one of their cameras only films in blue. If the skinny guy wasn't wearing a Superman costume, I'd think I was watching a training video on how employees should hunt junkyard intruders.

The Wizard of Oz, Turkey called it Aysecik ve Sihirli Cuceler Ruyalar Ulkesinde which loosely translates to "diaper for your mind and eyeballs." They kept it as a musical, but since the Turkish word for "lollipop" is a seven minute description of salted wolf bladder and their government forbids witches to die, the songs were difficult to translate. So instead of singing, the entire movie is Dorothy dancing with the Scarecrow to unexplained forest music. Turkish Wizard of Oz is so fruity that watching it can get you out of a military contract, although sawing off your foot does the same thing less painfully.Dorothy's endless dancing wastes more film than a cat owner with an Internet connection. After weeks of prancing across twenty feet of forest, Dorothy and her friends finally reach the Emerald City. And let me tell you-- it is worth the wait.Turkish Emerald City is such a breathtakingly crappy model that it would have cost more if they'd made it out of macaroni. If you were five and sculpted this out of Fimo, your mother would refuse to bake it and your father would make you take a DNA test. This depressing thing looks like they found a cake in the trash from a birthday where everyone was murdered.And when they get inside,

this is the great and powerful Wizard of Oz. This. And behind that, it turns out the actual Wizard of Oz was Turkish John Oates the whole time.

"After all this time, has someone finally come for me? Oh god... in Turkey, the prison term for child molestation is so, so long."

In America, we traditionally create the illusion of a flying man by filming an actor in front of a blue backdrop. Then we replace that blue backdrop with footage of passing scenery. In Turkey, they figured out a way to combine all that into a single step. They dangle the actor in front of a TV showing blue footage! But it gets even better, because you know what costs and complains less than an actor? A homemade doll on yarn. Seriously. A lot of special effects feel like they're lying to you, but not this one. This doll in front of an old TV looks so much like what it is that it wouldn't take you out of the scene at all if the puppeteer ducked his head in and apologized for the hiring policies of Turkish film unions. Within seconds of seeing what these filmmakers have made, I knew that there was a charity organization somewhere trying to provide them with medicine and helmets.

As sincere as this illusion is, it's about as believable as lesbian pornography. If a deaf guy called your phone and told you he could fly in sign language, it would be more convincing than Turkish Superman's visuals. At one point they actually dangle Superman the wrong way so it looks like he's speeding backwards past a happy tugboat crew. I don't know a ton about Eastern European religions, but here in America, we show the proper respect to darksided omens of doom. If you're flying backwards like some kind of abomination, we don't smile and wave at you even if we are just grainy stock footage.

When it came time to film, the director was stuck with this three foot monstrosity that looked like an image of Jesus that lost interest halfway through manifesting in an ashy elbow. Then inspiration slapped the filmmakers in the face with an elementary school dog corpse-- they could surround their crappy E.T. with an atmospheric yet concealing mist! All they need is a fog machine. The only problem: Turkish fog machines are made in Turkey.

E.T. was all set to make his big reveal in a cloud of spooky evening fog. The tension built as Elliot crept up on the croaking sound outside his door. No doubt there was some sort of alien monster waiting in the mist! The door swings open! And... there's no mist. Only the... what am I looking at, the inside of a teddy bear's septic tank?

E.T. and Elliot awkwardly stare at each other. Then nothing. Then nothing. Then right when you think someone is about to call cut, the broken fog machine clanks on, suddenly and insanely squirting a plume of smoke out of E.T.'s crotch. It's probably in the top five grossest things an alien can do when it enters your house. This honestly would bother me more than the fact that I'm looking at an alien. This scene is such a mystery. Is it the combination of faulty props and a stoic determination to never do a second take? Is E.T. from a race of creatures that think it's polite to blast a fire out with your dick when you're meeting someone? Maybe the stunt toddler picked a bad time to release the gas from the E.T. suit's waste pouch. Do Turkish people always stop for a moment and take a terrifying pee before entering a home? I don't have all the answers!

Superman has many of the same abilities in Turkey as he does in America. With the movie magic of pressing play on one VCR and record on the other very quickly, his X-ray vision can turn an ordinary secretary into a Bikini Turkishplosion.

And by dropping one untrained stuntman out of a tree and playing it in reverse, he can superpunch a man onto a tree branch!

Turkey doesn't only copy us, though. They invent some of their own Superman powers like his ability to walk arm-in-arm with another man with his sexuality supersecurity!

In one scene, Clark Kent smugly types with his mind. I think this power is based entirely on how easy it was to film, though. It had nothing to do with the plot, was slower than typing with his hands, and he typed the word "oooo.oojoooj." For a reporter, oooo.oojoooj is "f**k you, boss," in any language.

My favorite moment in Turkish Superman comes when he storms into Lex Luthor's secret hideout. Without telling you, you've probably guessed that it's a barn with a card table, and it is. After their card game is interrupted, the henchmen punch and shoot him, and it's all as useless as some jackass typing with his mind.

There's been a lot of mention in the film about a certain Krypton Rock being the only thing that can defeat Superman, so one of the thugs instead hits him with a chair. This knocks Superman into a barn explosion. Wait, a barn explosion? Did one of the goats eat a land mine or are Turkish filmmakers completely out of fucks to give?

Superman falls, from the explosion, onto... onto a little conveyor belt? With a guillotine at the end!? Look, I love that they're trying, but there is no application for this invention. There doesn't exist a reason for these guys to have a Conveyatine in their barn. This is either a mistake my eyeballs are making or it's a status symbol in Turkey when it takes you f*****g forever to chop your vegetables. Maybe you can solve it while you enjoy this ultimate celebration of all Turkish visual effects and storytelling: