The Wynorski Project - Part Seven "Transylvania Twist"

The Wynorski Project

Part Seven

Transylvania Twist

(1989)

Synopsis

At the urging of his Uncle Ephram, Dexter Ward seeks out Marissa Orlock, a beautiful blond recording artist whose father, Marinas, disappeared decades earlier with a dangerous mystical tome capable of unleashing terrible evil on the world. Just minutes after they meet, Marissa and Dexter learn that her father has died and they must travel to Transylvania to claim her inheritance and find the book. At Castle Orlock they are joined by her father’s old friend and executor, vampire hunter Victor Van Helsing, Marissa’s evil Uncle Byron, his manservant Stefan and his three busty “adopted daughters” Patty, Laverne and Maxine. Blood is shed, a lot of cleavage is exposed (but no breasts are bared), stuff explodes and there’s a happy ending for everyone but Uncle Byron.

 

I find myself stuck in a difficult position discussing Transylvania Twist. The problem is that I think there’s a lot of potentially great material in the film. Jokes that—on a purely conceptual level—display a lot of insight and wit. But I never laughed once. Intellectually, I appreciated what Wynorski and R.J. Robertson, the film’s screenwriter, were trying to do, but I never actually connected to the material. And I’ve yet to figure out why this is. Hopefully I’ll figure it out somewhere around the 1000 word mark.

Despite all of the humour found in his previous films, Transylvania Twist represents the first outright comedy Wynorski directed that was actually intended to be an outright comedy from its inception (unlike Deathstalker II, which turned from a straight sword and sorcery movie into a comedy during production).

According to the Internet (an admittedly shaky source of information) Wynorski actually replaced Charles B. Griffith, the screenwriter of the original Not of this Earth, The Little Shop of Horrors and Death Race 2000, as director. While Griffith had moved on from scripting to directing with efforts like Smokey Bites the Dust and Wizards of the Lost Kingdom II, the fact that Transylvania Twist was written by Wynorski’s good friend and frequent collaborator, Robertson, suggests to me that he had always been its intended director, even if Griffith temporarily got the assignment first.

 Unlike their previous three collaborations (Big Bad Mama II, Deathstalker II and Not of this Earth), Transylvania Twist marked the first time Robertson and Wynorski were able to create a completely original work, which I think explains why it doesn’t feel as laboured and tedious as those other films. Unfortunately they chose to strike out on their own in a genre that had already been mined clean over the past few decades.

Successful parody, I find, is very rare. Either filmmakers fail by being too toothless and doing little more than acknowledging a series of broad pop-culture references (see Repossessed or any of Jason Friedberg and Aaron Seltzer’s films) or they become too savage and essentially denigrate any audience knowledgeable enough to appreciate its jokes (Slaughter High strikes me as the best example of this). Even the most famous parodists exhibit, at best, spotty track records. Mel Brooks gave us the transcendent Blazing Saddles and Young Frankenstein (a film whose success I believe should actually be credited more to star/screenwriter Gene Wilder than anyone else), but he also made Robin Hood: Men in Tights and Dracula: Dead and Loving It, both of which suffered from being too overtly influenced by the Zucker-Abrahams-Zucker Airplane! school of rat-ta-tat-tat 100 JPS comedy.

Not only does a film like Transylvania Twist suffer in comparison to a much better film like Young Frankenstein, but it also suffers when its inevitably compared to a much worse film like Transylvania 6-5000 (a film written and directed by occasional Brooks collaborator Rudy De Luca), because the association alone is enough to bring it down.

In terms of actual content, the film Transylvania Twist most resembles is John De Bello’s Return of the Killer Tomatoes, a film which does a good job of finding the fine line between childish mockery and prescient satire. Many of Twist’s best moments are ones that poke fun more at the medium itself than the horror genre. For example I appreciated the scene shot in one take in which the cameraman has to run through library stacks to catch up with his subjects, only to become distracted by a blonde’s abundant décolletage:

It’s a fun potshot at the pretentious done-in-one camera shots made famous by Brian De Palma and Martin Scorsese, even if it doesn’t even come close to matching their bravura grandiosity.

Equally good is the moment where Marissa (80s sitcom star Teri Copley) becomes aware of the sound of the bassoon playing on the soundtrack, only to open her closet and find Patty (Wynorski regular Monique Gabrielle who is oddly credited as “?” in the end credits) sitting there playing the large woodwind instrument. Pretty much the exact same joke can be found in De Luca’s Transylvania 6-5000—with a violin substituted for a bassoon—but it works much better here thanks to the way Copley and Gabrielle downplay it, refusing to offer any acknowledgment of its absurdity.

Unfortunately as clever as these moments seemed, they still failed to make me laugh. Some of this, I think, can be blamed on Wynorski’s failure to maintain a consistent tone. A dilemma faced by filmmakers who enter into this kind of comic territory is that much of the material will inevitably seem juvenile and broadly simplistic, which often makes the more sophisticated and adult material seem out of place. Another explanation is that for every clever conceit that comes close to working, there are several that fail abysmally instead. The best example of this is the scene where Marissa and Dexter wander onto the vacant set of The Honeymooners, which turns their world black and white and causes their every statement to be followed by canned studio laughter. Not only is it a detour away from the film’s horror parody theme, but it’s a terribly dated and tired reference even when you remember that the film was made 22 years ago.

And despite the bassoon episode I mentioned above, Wynorski ruins a lot of jokes by flashing a bright spotlight on them. Not intent on just being the 1000^th director to feature Forrest J. Ackerman in a wordless cameo, he also has to make sure we get it by having the former publisher hold a copy of his Famous Monsters of Filmland magazine, despite its incongruity with his role as funeral director.

Also adding to the lack of laughter is Wynorski’s tendency to direct his actors to play the material as broadly and over-the-top as possible. Many potential parodists forget that what made the early Z-A-Z films so enjoyable was that they featured recognizable actors playing their roles completely straight. Airplane! succeeds because it features Leslie Nielsen, Robert Stack, Lloyd Bridges and Peter Graves giving the same performances they would have given if they had been cast in a drama instead. The humour comes not from any feigned wackiness, but instead the hilarious contrast between the normal and absurd.

That said, there is a great performance in Transylvania Twist thanks to Wynorski veteran Ace Mask (also a highlight in The Return of Swamp Thing), who plays Van Helsing. The flashback scene between him and Brink Stevens is about as close as the film came to arousing a chuckle out of me.

The rest of the cast is unfortunately hit and miss. Robert Vaughn as Uncle Byron never gels into his role, while Your Show of Shows vet Howard Morris as Marinas Orlock comfortably plays out the same shtick that made people confuse him with Arte Johnson for decades. Steve Altman as Dexter was obviously cast for his impression skills, which go a long way towards reminding me why I innately dislike impressionists and Angus Scrimm appears to have been cast as Stefan solely to justify the Phantasm joke that comes near the end. Even Boris Karloff, who provides a posthumous cameo via clips from Roger Corman’s The Terror, fails to come off that well.

As per usual in a Wynorski film, the female cast was clearly chosen more for their ability to properly fill out their sexy costumes than to sell jokes. Copley tries her damnedest to do a good job, but at a certain point her Marilyn Monroe act starts to feels too overtly contrived. And I suspect that the kind of professional jealousy alluded to in the most recent commentary for Not of This Earth might explain both Gabrielle’s stilted, unconvincing performance and the bizarre non-credit she receives at the end.

 

In the final analysis Wynorski’s seventh film is one I wanted to like, but whose simple failure to compel the correct response from me forces me to deem it a failure. I dunno, maybe I was just in an especially assholish mood this week….

Next Week

Sorority House Massacre II/Hard To Die

Part One



The Wynorski Project - Part Six "The Return of Swamp Thing"

The Wynorski Project

Part Six

The Return of Swamp Thing

(1989)

Synopsis

Beautiful blond Abigail decides it’s time to leave the safety of her plants and find out what really happened to her late mother. This means leaving California and visiting the estate of her evil stepfather, Anton Arcane, deep in the Louisiana bayou. Turns out he’s almost dead himself and requires Abby’s perfect genetic structure to complete the rejuvenation process necessary for him to survive. Fortunately for her, his mortal enemy is a dreamy living plant with muscles known as Swamp Thing, who takes an instant liking to the blond vegetarian. Very little blood is shed, no breasts are bared, stuff explodes and there’s a happy ending for our unique onscreen couple.

It sounds bizarre to suggest that a film that features a love story between Heather Locklear and a stuntman (Dick Durock) in a green plant suit is probably the closest Jim Wynorski has ever gotten to a making a satisfying mainstream movie, but it’s true. Of all his films so far documented on this blog, The Return of Swamp Thing is easily the most entertaining and professionally made. The film especially deserves credit for being better than the first Swamp Thing, a film directed by the more talented Wes Craven, that suffered due to unforeseen budget setbacks and the fact that the original Swamp Thing costume had an unfortunate tendency to disintegrate when put anywhere near an actual swamp.

While still full of classic Wynorski-isms (jokey references to his actors’ past work, Abbott & Costello type comedy, Monique Gabrielle, Ace Mask, running time lengthening opening and closing credits) the film doesn’t suffer under the weight of them like Deathstalker II and Not of This Earth did. I suspect a large part of the credit goes to producers Benjamin Melniker and Michael E. Uslan, who both remain best know for their involvement in the Batman franchise, beginning with Tim Burton’s 1989 film all the way to the upcoming The Dark Knight Rises, but it is entirely possible that this is just a coincidence and the film is simply proof that even a broken clock can be right two times day (see also Fred Olen Rey’s Hollywood Chainsaw Hookers).

Despite not being credited for the screenplay (that honour goes to Neil Cuthbert and Grant Morris), Wynorski’s influence on the script is obvious and in his commentary he credits Chopping Mall’s Steve Mitchell and Deathstalker II’s John Terlesky with helping him on the rewrite. It isn’t hard to guess who wrote what in the film, as certain scenes and jokes definitely feel more Wynorskian than others (ie. the subplot involving the two boys trying to get a picture of Swampy, the scene where Monique Gabrielle and Joe Sagal flirt—three years before Lethal Weapon 3—by comparing scars a la Jaws, all of Heather Locklear’s one-liners), but in this case Wynorski was fortunate enough to have a cast talented enough to wring some entertainment out of them.

Sarah Douglas, for example, is typically excellent as Dr. Zurrell (an almost Kryptonian sounding name that recalls her most famous role as Ursa in Superman II), as is Wynorski regular Ace Mask, who adds a layer of hilarious banality to his evil mad scientist. Sagal and Gabrielle are both great as Arcane’s chief henchpeople and the scenes featuring the two young boys are all saved by the gleeful performances of RonReaco Lee and Daniel Emery Taylor.

Both Louis Jourdan and Durock return from the first film and both give the weakest performances. Jourdan disdained the movie and returned only for the paycheck and his indifference is evident onscreen (Wynorski gets him back by having a parrot make a Gigi joke in one scene), while Durock was clearly cast more for his physique and experience as a stuntman than his dramatic chops. It doesn’t help that his voice is clearly dubbed by another (uncredited) actor.

That said, a huge amount of credit for the film’s success has to go to Locklear, a TV actress whose comedic talent has often been overshadowed by her seemingly inhuman blond California beauty. I remember that when the film first came out, my local newspaper reviewer suggested in his review that he couldn’t tell if her performance in the film was one of the best or worst he’d ever seen. That it’s impossible to tell whether or not she’s in on the joke is the key to the film’s success. As Abigail, Locklear is often funny, but never campy, a distinction that is also true for the whole movie as well. 

Of course, though, the film’s humour is likely to be the element that alienates most comic book fans, who resent the dark worlds they take seriously being lightened in any way. This is especially true for Swamp Thing, a character who grew infinitely more complex after the 1982 release of Craven’s film via the pen of Alan Moore, whose reputation as the genre’s great literary genius was first earned from his work on Saga of the Swamp Thing. Fortunately for my enjoyment of the film, I’ve never actually read any of those comics and am therefore immune to any of the potential sacrileges committed onscreen, leaving me to admire it for what it is rather than detest it for what it’s not.

Truthfully, though, it is difficult to imagine how any filmmaker could be expected to bring the true comic book character onto the big screen. In comics the Swamp Thing is able to transcend his appearance and become a noble, tragic figure, but on film he’ll always be a guy in a silly green suit or (sometime in the future) a CGI cartoon. That’s not to say it couldn’t be done, just that in 1988—when the sequel was made—the budget Wynorski had to work with simply would not allow for a serious take on the material. And, it has to be said, if that was what the producers actually wanted, they never would have hired him in the first place.

Still, The Return of Swamp Thing isn’t a perfect film. It’s chief flaw being the kind of simplistic plot that people who’ve never actually read comic books typically associate with the genre. Were it not for the humour and absurdity of its central romance, it would be a much less satisfying, empty film where not much of consequence actually happens. The saving grace of Wynorski’s tone being that by reducing the dramatic stakes, it allows us to ignore how small the film really feels and instead enjoy it for what it is.

Six films in and I fear we might have reached the pinnacle of Wynorski’s career. The Return of Swamp Thing truly represents the bizarre miracle of cinematic alchemy in which a hack filmmaker's usual formula for once turns to gold instead of remaining lead. Knowing what I do about Wynorski's later work, it’s hard to hold out hope that I will be happily surprised to see its success replicated somewhere along the way. Perhaps there’s a hidden gem lost somewhere in his Jay Andrews filmography, but since that seems doubtful, it’s hard not to end this review without feeling a touch of melancholy. Is it possible that our subject made his last good movie over 20 years ago? For my sake, I hope not….

Next Week

Transylvania Twist

The Wynorski Project - Part Five "Not of This Earth"

The Wynorski Project

 Part Five

 Not of This Earth

 (1988)

Synopsis

A member of a dying alien species, the mysterious Mr. Johnson is on a mission to determine whether or not the human race can be harvested to provide the blood his people need to survive. To continue his mission he himself requires daily transfusions administered by a beautiful young nurse named Nadine Story, who quickly becomes suspicious about her employer’s activities. Blood is shed, breasts are bared, stuff explodes and the film ends with a question mark regarding the fate of mankind.

 

A couple years ago I wrote an amusing little diversion called 50 Reasons No One Wants to Publish Your First Book and it occurs to me that #46 on the list is especially apt in the case of Jim Wynorksi’s fifth film. It suggests:

46. Historically, books written solely to settle a bar bet seldom make it to print, especially if they were written during a seven-and-a-half-hour period in the same bar where the bet was made.

I mention this because Wynorski freely brags in both of the two commentaries he’s thus far done for Not of This Earth that before production began on the remake, Roger Corman bet him he couldn’t get it filmed in the same 12-day schedule in which he shot the original. Wynorski took the bet, filmed his movie in 11 and 1/2 days and promptly took home a new car for his achievement.

Had I not listened to the commentaries I think I honestly might have guessed this was the case, because the resulting film very much looks and feels like a movie shot very quickly and indifferently by its director because he had something other than telling an interesting story on the line. At just barely 80 minutes (a nominal running time which he only actually achieves by creating a long opening credit montage of scenes from other Corman sf movies and by outright stealing a full scene from Joe Dante and Alan Arkush’s Hollywood Boulevard) the movie still manages to feel sluggish and dull, despite the clear intention to turn it into a lightly entertaining drive-in pastiche.

Between this and Deathstalker II it becomes clear that one of Wynorski’s greatest faults is his inability to transcend his production limitations. Many other directors have achieved great things under similar budgetary and time restrictions, but in their cases they were all invested in the outcome—they truly cared how the movie would come out. Wynorski, however, wanted to win a new car.

I’ve always found something interesting about the existence of journeyman directors. Without them Hollywood couldn't exist, since so much of their product couldn’t be made by filmmakers who actually cared about what they were doing, yet there’s something paradoxical about their very existence. Given the stress and personal depravation required to make any movie, it seems incredible that there are men and women out there who have worked so long and hard to achieve the position of director only to then subvert their personal vision in order to produce executive-friendly studio pabulum. Those of us outside the movie industry often wonder why its participants earn as much as they do, and the answer is obviously tied to the industry’s acknowledgment of the profound and soul-crushing ambivalence required by its workers just to make it through the day.

But this doesn’t apply to our subject. You cannot accuse Wynorski of “selling out” because he’s spent his entire career making the kind of films he wants to make. Nor can you accuse him of being an egoless director who lacks pride in his achievements. As seen in Popatopolis his home is a monument to his career with posters from all of his films decorating his walls. And unlike other directors who are reticent to discuss their films in DVD commentaries, he’s gone so far to provide them for films he’s directed under pseudonyms.

At this point I can only guess at the reasons behind the disconnect between his equally evident pride and disinterest in his work. The one that currently makes the most sense to me is the idea that the only project that truly interests Jim Wynorski is the myth of Jim Wynorski, but I have no idea if this project will truly bear this out.

Working from the original script by Mark Hanna and frequent Corman-collaborator Charles Griffith, Wynorski and R.J. Robertson (who previously worked together on the script for Big Bad Mama II) did little to the story of Not of This Earth but up the T&A quotient as high as they could.

And while his previous four films were all too happy to thrown in as much sex and nudity as they could get away with, Not of This Earth marks the first time where it starts feeling truly gratuitous. Part of this is because the script remains so true to the original that the film has a slightly dated, out-of-touch feel that is shown in strong relief each time a pair of large breasts intrude upon the screen. Also to blame is the film’s extremely limited production values, which gives the film the kind of low-rent ambiance typically associated with soft and hardcore pornography.

Which makes the presence of former underage hardcore icon Traci Lords, in the role of Nadine the nurse, more than a little ironic, because her performance is easily the freshest, most appealing aspect of the entire movie. Rather than make Not of This Earth feel more sordid than it already is, Lords manages to elevate it to a level it never would have achieved if, for example, Deathstalker II’s Monique Gabrielle had been cast as Nadine (complete with anachronistic white cap and uniform), instead of merely being regulated to a short, unrecognizable cameo as a crazy bag lady.

Wynorski actually deserves some credit for not only giving Lords her first mainstream film role, but for also casting her against type as the good girl heroine. Throughout the rest of her career filmmakers had difficulty looking past her infamy and sultry physical presence and cast her in a series of vixen and bad girl roles. Not of This Earth suggests she could have easily gone another way.

Unfortunately her character is betrayed by a climax that finds Nadine lost in the thrall of her alien employer and about to transport herself to his home planet for immediate vivisection only to be saved at the last minute when her policeman boyfriend’s piercing siren causes the noise adverse “Mr. Johnson” to plunge his car off a bridge. It’s a repeat of the distressing situation I reported in The Lost Empire, where Wynorski takes a strong, self-sufficient female character and turns her into a helpless victim who requires her boyfriend’s intervention to save her.

Despite this, Lord’s performance is almost good enough to redeem the rest of the film. While the most disappointing of his films thus far, Not of This Earth isn’t a complete disaster. Had Wynorski the time, money and inclination to make a better film I think he could have matched the charm of his first two films, but by this early point in his career he had already decided that he was more concerned with winning a bet than making an interesting film.

NEXT WEEK

Return of Swamp Thing

The Wynorski Project - Part Four "Deathstalker II: Duel of the Titans"

The Wynorski Project

Part Four

Deathstalker II

(1987)

Synopsis

Life gets exciting for Deathstalker, the womanizing "Prince of Thieves", when he rescues beautiful blond "seer" Reena from a trio of violent soldiers. After she convinces him that a vast reward awaits the man who stops the evil sorcerer Jarek from his reign of terror, they go on an adventure filled journey (Zombies! Female wrestlers! Amazons!), where our hero learns that Reena is a princess in exile, replaced by a mystical look-a-like who must consume men whole to survive. Blood is shed, breasts are bared, stuff explodes and there are happy endings for everyone who deserves one.

Before I begin, I want to say that the following might read more vitriolic than I intended. It is my belief that Deathstalker II is a bad movie, but the truth is that there's nothing wrong with being a bad movie. Bad movies make the world go round. And the fact is that as bad movies go, Deathstalker II isn't that bad. I just didn’t think it was very funny, which is somewhat problematic for a film that’s supposed to be a comedy.

But then this might be expected for a film that didn’t start out as a comedy. Originally written as a straightforward sequel to the original Deathstalker—a film best remembered today for featuring an early appearance by the late Lana Clarkson and the scene in which Barbi Benton’s see-through robe is rather redundantly torn off her bound body—Wynorski decided just as filming began in Argentina that the only way to save it from being a complete fiasco was to rewrite it on the fly with help from his leading man, Chopping Mall’s John Terlesky. Inspired by Frank Capra’s It Happened One Night and old Looney Tunes cartoons, they decided to turn it into a wacky road comedy.

This ad hoc approach to the screenplay is clearly evident onscreen. The script’s reliance on old jokes and routines borrowed from every comedy team filmed in the 30s and 40s is so blatantly predictable you find yourself mouthing the punch lines before the characters even have a chance to get to them. Though evidence of it could be found in all of the three films that preceded it, Deathstalker II is the first film to really establish Wynorski’s lack of an original voice. He’s the directorial equivalent of that guy at work who thinks he’s being clever by repeating jokes he’s heard in movies or on TV, seemingly oblivious to the fact that true wit requires you to come up with your own quips and observations, not merely parrot someone else’s.

But even more problematic to me is the ethical question Wynorski’s decision raises.

Now I realize “ethical” isn’t a word you hear used a lot in low-budget b-movie film reviews, but in the case of Deathstalker II I think it’s apt. As strange as it may sound to those of us who have seen the original Deathstalker, the very fact that its producers felt it was financially worthwhile to produce a sequel suggests that they believed there was a large group of folks who wanted to see that story continue. This being the case, Wynorski’s on-the-fly decision to turn the film into a comedy strikes me as an ultimately narcissistic move that—at best—represents a breach of trust.

Without a doubt had Wynorski filmed the original script without deviation the result would have been terrible, but it would have been consistently terrible with the first film and would have likely entertained the audience it had been produced for. The irony of Deathstalker II being that rather than save the film from descending into the laughable unintended camp of the Italian-made Ator films, Wynorski’s deliberately comic take only made the film terrible in a different way—one that undoubtedly ended up alienating the very audience who wanted to see it in the first place.

And here, I think, we get the first clue into the potentially unjustified negative feelings I had towards his work that I discussed in the introduction of this project. Despite his subject matter and apparent lack of pretension, Wynorski seems little different from those self-obsessed, self-proclaimed art house “geniuses” who make their films only for themselves and not their audiences. In his case though, his reasons for doing so isn’t to produce a work of “art”, but instead to make some money and hang out with pretty girls with big tits (which is, admittedly, a far more noble motive, but no less selfish and inconsiderate).

Truthfully, though, I’m somewhat dubious about Wynorski’s claim that the decision to turn the film into a farce was made at the last minute, if only because it’s very hard to imagine his chosen cast playing their roles in a non-comic capacity.

With his slim-build and jockish demeanor John Terlesky looks like he should be playing the bully in a teen comedy, not a medieval “Prince of Thieves” and it’s impossible to watch villainous John Lazar without thinking of his hilariously campy performance as Z-Man in Beyond the Valley of the Dolls. As Sultana, Toni Naples looks good in a series of fetching outfits but is unable to do anything with the material she’s given. Of them all, it’s Maria Socas as the Amazon Queen who comes off the best, if only because she was the only actor already familiar with the genre (The Warrior and the Sorceress) and had the benefit of having all of her lines dubbed in by someone else.

That said, the film’s most memorable performance comes from Monique Gabrielle, a well-known 80s b-movie star who clocked more onscreen time naked than she ever did fully clothed. Deathstalker II features what is probably her most complex and difficult role, requiring her to take on the dual parts of the innocent exiled royal Reena and her evil, cannibalistic mystical doppleganger Evie. She’s not particularly convincing in either part, but this is more than made up for by her ability to carry off a series of nonexistent costumes that certainly leave a lasting impression on any heterosexual male who’s taken the time to watch the film. At the risk of blowing my already nebulous credibility, these costumes—and the moments she spends out of them—almost make Deathstalker II worth watching despite all of the objections I noted above.

Next Week

Not of This Earth

 

The Wynorski Project - Part Two "Chopping Mall"

The Wynorski Project

Part Two

 Chopping Mall

(1986)

 

Midway through my revisiting Chopping Mall specifically for this review I found myself slightly annoyed by how much I was enjoying it. Having started this project with the hope that it would go on to justify my prejudices against Wynorski, it didn’t seem right that I would end up liking his first two films as much as I did. Like The Lost Empire, Chopping Mall is a flawed film, but also a good example of what Wynorski could do before he seemingly stopped caring. Even better, it’s one of his few films where the humour is used to good affect, rather than to excuse the production’s obvious limitations. What I like most about it is that it’s a sincere film, making it one of the few he’s directed thus far,

It’s also the film that introduces many of the actors who would go on to become members of Wynorski’s unofficial repertory company, including Kelli Maroney, John Terlesky, Ace Mask, Lenny Juliano and—in an eye blink silent cameo as a bikini clad beauty queen—Toni Naples (see video below), all of whom would appear in many of his movies over the next decade.

Co-written by Steve Mitchell, Chopping Mall (originally released to theaters as Killbots) largely eschews the terrible puns and slapstick humour that defined The Lost Empire and instead replaces it with slightly more sophisticated in-jokes designed specifically to appeal to movie geeks.

For example, in the film’s first scene Paul Bartel and Mary Woronov appear as Paul and Mary Bland, the characters they played previously in Bartel’s Eating Raoul. Also in that same scene we see brief appearances by Lost Empire’s Angela Aames, Paul Coufos (who looks a lot better without the cheesy mustache) and Angus Scrimm (whose appearance is so brief I would have missed it if Wynorski hadn’t pointed it out in his commentary). Dick Miller also appears—once again—as an older version of Walter Paisley, the murderous beatnik artist from Roger Corman's A Bucket of Blood, who apparently survived his original fate and went on to become a shopping mall janitor, Perhaps the funniest of all the film’s references comes when the embattled characters decide to head to Peckinpah Sporting Goods to load up on firearms and ammunition.

Shot in the same Californian shopping mall made famous by Fast Times at Ridgemont High (which also featured Kelli Maroney in a supporting role), Chopping Mall is a fast-paced variation on the Spam-In-A-Cabin subgenre (in which a group of people find themselves trapped in a building with a murderous threat of some sort) in which the killers turn out to be malfunctioning security robots armed with unsuitably powerful laser weapons (see video below).

Coming in at just 73 minutes, minus the credits, the film succeeds largely because Wynorski doesn’t give us enough time to become bored and populates the film with characters who manage to avoid being the usual obnoxious assholes normally found in this kind of movie. That said, the film’s brevity and lack of complexity also work against it since we’re never given enough time or any reason to come to care about the poor folks trapped in the shopping mall with the killer robots, robbing the film of any potential emotional impact. There are at least three deaths in the film that in theory should affect us, but Wynorski isn’t capable of exploiting the drama inherent in these moments and as a result elicits shrugs rather than gasps or tears.

To its credit, the film shows no signs of the potential misogyny I expressed concern about in my previous review. Kelli Maroney’s character is given the typical final girl character arch, which I appreciate since that happens to be my favourite horror movie cliché. My only problem with her character’s significance in the film comes from Maroney herself. With her teased 80s blonde hairdo and chubby cheeks, its hard not to think of her as a human version of a certain popular Muppet character who was famously prone to violent rages and deeply in love with a lovable, if slightly milquetoast frog emcee. Perhaps I would feel differently if the film didn’t also feature Karrie Emerson, an extremely attractive brunette (see video below), who retired from acting not long after appearing in Chopping Mall and another film in which her character should have lived to the end, but didn’t—the astonishingly terrible Evils of the Night.

If it seems like I’m not saying a lot here, it’s because there’s really not enough meat on Chopping Mall’s bones to deconstruct. It is what it is and by that standard it’s quite fun and a definite check in Jim Wynorski’s win column, which is good, because I don’t think it will be very long before the other column starts filling right up.

Next Week

Big Bad Mama II

The House of Glib Video Review - Hellgate (BRAND NEW!!!!!!!!)

The House of Glib Video Review - The Wraith (BRAND NEW!!!!!!!!)

Repost - The Apple

I went to an elementary school whose student population included kids with severe mental and physical disabilities, and though they were kept segregated—for the most part—from us in separate classrooms, every effort was always made to include them in all the regular school events and projects.  This meant that they always got the chance to perform at the annual Christmas concerts—both the one that was held for the parents at night and the one held for the students during the day—and though I cannot say how people reacted during the night concert, I do know that their performances always elicited two different reactions from the students during the day show.  The first reaction was the one chosen by the crueler, more cold-hearted kids—snide mockery.  They would laugh and make fun of how badly those retards sang their songs and scoff with disbelief whenever one of the kids forgot the words to their solo or just plain froze with stage fright.  They could not believe that anyone would have anything kind to say about such a pathetic display. 

Thankfully the other reaction was much more kind.  The more empathetic souls amongst us were willing to ignore the obvious faults in the “special” kids’ performance, because a) we knew they were trying their hardest and b) they were obviously having a lot of fun, so when we applauded them we did so with genuine enthusiasm and not with the sarcastic rhythm of our unenlightened peers.

This brings us to the subject at hand—What Were They Thinking Movies (to be referred to here and in the rest of these posts as WWTTM from henceforth).  Like the special needs kids at those Christmas concerts you can choose to watch them with a sense of arrogant superiority and derision or you can instead decide to watch them with a more gentle and forgiving eye and allow yourself to be entertained by the misbegotten spectacle of it all. 

You should know by now which of these two options I prefer.

The paradox of being a fan of movies like these is that often you find yourself in the weird position of knowing they are awful but unable to bear it when someone actually criticizes them for their faults.  The problem usually is the tone of these criticisms, which is invariably the same one the mean kids used when making fun of the disabled kids’ botched rendition of “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer”.  By pointing out all of the obvious flaws of these films, these unkind critics fail to appreciate their sincerity and joie de vive.   Of course they suck, but they suck in fun, original ways that make them a blast to watch over and over again.  To not get that means that either you take the world far too seriously for your own good or you’re just a major asshole.

The subject of this post’s discussion is a bad movie—I don’t deny it.  Like all WWTTM I can’t believe its producers actually thought it could ever be successful, but having said that, when I tell you that I love this movie I don’t mean it in any sort of hip ironic way.  I genuinely love this movie not despite its faults, but because of them—because it is completely true to itself and utterly sincere, even during those moments that are so ridiculous they flirt with unintended self-parody.

I am, of course, talking about:

Our humble little movie starts at the WorldVision Song Festival in the year 1994, where the audience is being thrilled to the unheard of degree of 150 heartbeats (don’t ask me to explain what that means, the movie never bothers to tell us) by the biracial duo of Dandi and Pandi, who are on stage performing their hit song “Bim”. 


Dandi's the dude and Pandi's not.

It’s an anthemic number that includes such memorable lyrics as:

There ain’t no good!
There ain’t no bad!

There ain’t no happiness!
There ain’t no tears!

There ain’t no love!
There ain’t no hate!

There’s only power!
Bim is the power!

Hey, hey, hey!
Bim’s on the way!

(Repeat)


"Hey, hey, hey, Bim's on the way!"

The crowd loves it and who can blame them?  Clearly Dandi and Pandi are evil, but damn if the song isn’t one catchy number!  As it continues we are introduced to their manager, a thin European-accented gentleman named Mr. Boogalow:


No fair guessing who he really turns out to be!

 As well as his number two man, Shake:


"Hi there!  I'm flamboyantly homosexual henchman number one!"

Mr. Boogalow informs his posse that Dandi and Pandi are “magnifique” and that he is going “to turn them into the two biggest stars of the decade”—a statement he makes with such confidence that it suggests it really is only a matter of his desire to do so and not any kind of wishful thinking.  But as he and his crew celebrate his belief that the “Bim” song is going to “Take this competition by storm—a-woo-woo-woo!” (No really, he actually says “a-woo-woo-woo“), another duo is introduced onto the stage.


A duo so wholesome they make The Carpenters look like an anorexic nutjob and a self-hating closet-case.

Their names are Alphie and Bibi and they are—as Shake disbelievingly informs his boss—“a couple of kids from Moose Jaw.” 

“Moose where?” asks Boogalow.

“I think it’s in Canada,” answers the flunky.

The song these two plucky kids from Saskatchewan choose to perform is a number Alphie wrote entitled “Love Is the Universal Melody”.  This surprises the “Bim” folks because everyone knows that love songs are old news.  At first it would seem that they are right, as the crowd of teenagers proves initially hostile to the song, but as the wholesome looking duo soldier on the crowd is quieted by lyrics such as:

Alphie:

We belong to one another
We share each other’s destiny
United by our love
We are all children of
The Universal Family

Bibi:

And we are everybody’s brother
And we share the birthright to be free
And deep within your heart
There beats the song of the ages

Both:

The song is the universal melody!

It’s all so beautiful that some in the audience are moved to tears.


"I guess it is better than the crap you hear on American Idol."

Despite their inexplicably winning over the crowd (inexplicable being the only way to describe it considering a) how bad the song is and b) how unconvincing the crowd’s sudden change of heart really is) Shake insists to his boss that there is no way they can reach Dandi and Pandi’s record of 150 heartbeats, but as he says it, they hit 151.  Mr. Boogalow realizes that “Bim” is in danger of losing the competition so he tells Shake to use the red tape.  Shake hands the tape over to the engineer and tells him that if anyone sees him use it then he’s “dead, very dead.”  The engineer takes the tape and plays it over Alphie and Bibi’s performance.  The sounds the tape produces causes the once happy crowd to boo and jeer at the young duo, causing Bibi to break into tears and run off of the stage before the song is over.


Let's start tallying her faults right now.  First, she's a crybaby.

The contest now sewn up and in the bag, Mr. Boogalow is interviewed by reporters from all around the world, whose questions he answers fluently in their native languages.  When he finally gets to the reporter from America, a man named Joe Pittman, he is displeased to hear the reporter suggest that the contest was rigged and that it was almost won by another song.  Mr. Boogalow takes Pittman aside and tells him that if he reports what he just said, he’ll find himself in the unemployment line.  “Joe Pittman,” he tells Shake, “remember that name.”


Playing the part of Joe Pittman is the movie's co-lyricist George S. Clinton, who shouldn't be confused with this guy.

Now that the media has been dealt with, everyone returns to Mr. Boogalow’s mansion to celebrate the “Bim” song’s victory.


No seriously, it will totally ruin it if you guess who he really is.

And as Boogalow toasts Dandi and Pandi’s achievement, Alphie and Bibi are shown leaving the concert hall, where she is attempting to convince him to accept Boogalow’s invitation to the party now in progress.  Alphie doesn’t want to have anything to do with the man, but Bibi—whose dreams of stardom are much more ambitious than her partner’s—insists he could help make them famous and get their songs heard by millions. 


You can now add whiny and craven for stardom to the list. 

Meanwhile at the party, Ashley—Boogalow’s merchandising mastermind—introduces his latest invention, the “Bim” mark—a blue triangular sticker that can be worn anywhere on a person’s body.


"Hi there!  I'm flamboyantly homosexual henchman number two!"

Boogalow is so impressed with this invention he stops the party and tells everyone that—from that moment on—they all have to wear the sticker all of the time to show their devotion to “Bim”.


You're guessing right now, aren't you?

Not long after this announcement, Bibi and a very reluctant Alphie arrive at the party.  Boogalow quickly separates them, handing Bibi over to Dandi and Alphie over to Pandi.  Boogalow offers Alphie a drink, but the young singer refuses it, amusing the guests with the news that he does not drink alcohol.  Bibi, however, is more than willing to accept any intoxicant handed her way.  This is made clear when Dandi takes her upstairs and offers her a pill, which she—after some coaxing—takes and swallows down.


Write down 'easily corrupted' under 'craven for stardom'.

They then talk for a couple of minutes before Dandi kisses her:


I think that would qualify as 'skanky ho'.

And then informs her in song:
 

You were made for me
Created for me
And I am your man
You were made for me
It’s fated to be
And you’ll be my woooooo-man!

And though Bibi has known Dandi for less than five minutes and in that time he’s been nothing but an incredible jerk, she finds herself singing back:

How do you do this to me?
Tell me why
The touch of your hand
Has me trembling inside

I don’t understand
This magic I feel
Are you a fantasy
Or are you for real?


"Explain to me again why I'm singing this song to someone I just met?"

By the time they are finished singing, they are kissing once again, but this time Alphie sees them and puts a stop to this betrayal.


Dude, let her go.  She's a--let's check what we have so far--crybaby, whiny, craven for stardom, easily corrupted, skanky ho.  Now, aren't you glad we made that list?

Despite having his girl almost stolen from him at the party, Alphie joins Bibi the next day as she goes to meet with Boogalow at his business headquarters.  Instead of suggesting that she stop being such a whiny, pill-popping skanky ho, the only thing he says is that they need a lawyer if they are going to consider signing a deal with Boogalow. 

“He’s just an agent—he doesn’t own us," Bibi disagrees, before adding, "he’s only taking fifty percent.” 

Even when faced with this remarkable logic, Alphie remains unconvinced and the Canadian in him comes out.

“Have you ever seen an American contract?” he asks her.  “It’s filled with hundreds of pages of doubletalk—he’ll destroy us!”

“Or make us,” Bibi answers back defiantly.

Since Boogalow is the biggest and most important agent in the world, his lobby is filled with acts desperate to be signed by him.  Not limited to musical acts, Boogalow apparently is more than willing to consider taking on clowns, magicians and really cheesy dance acts if the people waiting to see him are any indication.


Don't worry.  He's smiling on the inside.

Eventually the man everyone is waiting for arrives, just in time to sing a song about his own personal philosophy:


No, he's not really an alien.  Now stop guessing!

Like a puppet on a string
Like a monkey on a swing
Man is clinging to the ropes
Of the fantasies and hopes
We are dang-a-ling

He’s so eager to believe
And so easily deceived
Like a baby watching magic
He’s so gullible it is tragic
In a word—naïve


I'm beginning to think he chooses henchmen on their ability to make him look butch in comparison.

He then goes on, with the help of sequined dancers, a clown, a midget, his bodyguards and Shake (all of whom are bedecked with feathered boas) to tell us that:
 

Life is nothing but show business in 1994!


Ha!  Fooled Ya!  He's definitely not Jesus.  Oh shit, that may be a hint.  Stop guessing!

While some would hear these lyrics and assume that Boogalow is not exactly someone you would be smart to trust, Alphie (who is still very suspicious) and Bibi (who is pretty much willing to give hand jobs to lepers for a record deal at this point) meet with the man in his office, where he offers them both separate contracts to sign.


"I may just be a smalltown Canadian boy, but I'm not much impressed with your big city American ways."

Alphie is brazen enough to ask that they be allowed to read the documents before they sign them, only to learn that—even though they haven’t actually recorded it yet—Boogalow has already started selling their first album.  “First you sell it,” Shake tells them.  “Then you make it,” continues Ashley.  “That’s marketing,” the young duo is informed.


I swear she would willingly blow every guy in that room if they told her to do it.  Luckily for her these guys aren't interested in that sort of thing--If you know what I mean.  (Hint: they're all gay)

Bibi doesn’t have to hear anymore and eagerly signs the contract.  As she does, Alphie watches her and imagines the building starting to shake due to a powerful earthquake.  With everyone looking at him like he’s crazy, he reluctantly starts signing the contract, but then he imagines the lights in the room going on and off plunging them into darkness.  Someone is sending him a sign and soon Alphie finds himself dreaming that he is in hell, where he and Bibi are dressed as Adam and Eve, while Boogalow is dressed like the Devil and Shake is now a snake.


Dude, that's a pretty impressive fig leaf you got there.

Bibi/Eve (rather typically) loves the place, but Alphie/Adam hates it.  Boogalow/Devil ignores A/A and focuses all of his attention on the much more receptive B/E.  He transforms her fig leaves into a seductive red dress and introduces her to his son Dandi/Anti-Christ.  B/D then calls out to Shake/Snake to bring out his “special hors d’oeuvre—the Apple!” 


Remember this is only a dream sequence, so anything you see here isn't a clue!

Given the Apple (which appears to be half Red Macintosh and half Granny Delicious) Boogalow then offers it to B/E.  “Don’t be afraid,” he tells her in a hushed voice, “taste it.”  A/A tries to stop her, but Pandi/Pandi (they apparently couldn’t figure out an analogous biblical character for her) calls out to him and he cannot resist her temptations (Delilah maybe?)  The denizens of hell call out to B/E to taste the Apple and are then inspired to break out into another musical number as D/A sings to her:

Magic apple
Mystery apple
Take a little ride
Let me be your guide
Through the Apple paradise!


It's both a cheap metaphor and a big piece of fruit!

True to his word he then takes her on a tour of Hell (aka “the Apple paradise”), where he tells her that wanting to try the Apple is:

A natural, natural desire

and then he introduces her to:


Because vampire rhymes with desire!

An actual, actual vampire!

before urging her to:

Let the Apple set your soul on fire, fire, fire!

because:

You’ll be hypnotized
And you’ll be demonized
And you’ll be paralyzed
So you’ll be victimized

And while Bibi is either too ambitious or stupid (I’m guessing the later) to actually get the message of the song (good things don’t happen to people who taste the Apple), Alphie hears it loud and clear and the dream sequence ends, returning him back to Boogalow’s office where he refuses to sign the contract. 


"I may be a smalltown Canadian boy with a vaguely European accent, but I know a bad deal when I see one!"

Mr. Boogalow allows Alphie to leave, but when Bibi tries to follow him, she is stopped by Dandi and Pandi who tell her that Alphie is not her master and that she is free to pursue stardom with them.

Guess who she goes with?

SHE IS SUCH A SKANK!  (Sorry, I had to get that out of my system)

But if she has freed herself from Alphie, the song Mr. Boogalow sings over the course of her “stardom-makeover” montage makes it clear that all she has done is turned herself over to another master:


Here Bibi is breaking Allan's First Commandment of Cosmotology--Thou Shalt Not Get Thy Hair Styled By Someone With A Bad Haircut.


Reaching the top
Is such a long hard climb
Millions of people stand and wait in line
Do you think I got there
Being patient and kind?
Yes, I know how to be a master

One really does get the sense that Bibi would have saved everyone a lot of trouble if she just bothered to listen to the lyrics of these songs, but instead she just enjoys the pretty melodies and ignores all the stuff about lying, cheating and stealing to get ahead, not to mention the line about Mr.Boogalow buying souls (could this be a hint towards her agent's true identity?  She doesn’t know, because she was too busy getting her hair done to listen!).


My memories of 1994 are hazy, but I'm pretty certain this wasn't very fashionable.

Her transformation complete, she is introduced to the press who ask her what it’s like for “A girl from nowhere to become America’s number one “Bim” star?”  She answers them by saying “It’s frightening, but I put all of my faith in Mr. Boogalow.” 

Faith?  What a peculiar and highly specific word to use in that sentence.

Finally, after 39 minutes of whining and being altogether skanky, Bibi gets to perform for the whole world, singing a new “Bim” song called “Speed”, which is an upbeat rockin’ ode to America’s devotion to amphetamines:


This particular frame has nothing to do with the plot, but it does feature back-up dancer Finola Hughes, who would go on to co-star in an even worse WWTTM musical.

America the land of the free
Is shooting up with pure energy!
And everyday she has to take more
Speeeeeeeeeeeeee-eeeeeeeeeeeedddddddd!

America the home of the brave
Is popping pills to keep up the pace!
And everyday she cries out for more
Speeeeeeeeeeeeee-eeeeeeeeeeeedddddddd!

From New York out to L.A.
Everybody does it her way!
Poppin’ power
By the hour
Speeeeeeeeeeeeee-eeeeeeeeeeeedddddddd!


I won't lie to you.  This outfit works for me.

We then cut six months later to a middle-aged Jewish woman who is stopped by a policeman and fined for not wearing a visible “Bim” mark.  Apparently in the time that has passed Mr. Boogalow and his “Bim” brand has become so powerful that he now controls the government and is able to enact laws that force everyone in the country to show devotion to him.  If you were a suspicious person you might conclude that this “Bim” mark might be more than a tacky fashion accessory but something much more sinister!  It turns out that this walking stereotype of all things Semitic is Alphie’s landlady who is constantly reminding him how behind he is in paying his rent, even though—despite her constant nagging—it is clear that she really cares about him and wants him to succeed in show business on his own terms.


"I may just be a smalltown boy from up north, but I know how to give an older woman a cheap thrill."

Unfortunately, the kinds of songs he writes (sucky love songs) just aren’t what the record companies want, which is all “Bim” all of the time.”  Frustrated by his inability to break into the business without selling his soul, he takes time to sit and reflect in a public park, where he is fined for not wearing a “Bim” mark.  He tears the ticket up, just as the public address system announces that it is four o’clock, which means—as part of the government’s national fitness program—all citizens are required to stop whatever they are doing and perform the “Bim” dance, an
edict that includes both doctors and patients:


That's what I call a hardcore exercise ethic.

As well as firefighters, the elderly and even--most dastardly of all--nuns:


Is it wrong that this really turns me on?

And in the end we discover it is Bibi herself who is singing the song everyone is legally required to dance to.


"We are so evil!  So evil, evil, evil!"

Alphie happens to be close to the concert hall where Bibi performed the song for the masses, so he is able to watch as his former partner is swarmed by her fans when she leaves to get into her car.  Alphie calls out to her and—recognizing his voice--she calls out his name, but before they can reunite, Alphie is grabbed by her bodyguards, who then proceed to smack him around like a little bitch. 


"I may just be a smalltown boy from up beyond the 49^th parallel but I still bleed like everyone else."

Seeing Alphie seemingly does something to both Bibi and Pandi.  Pandi, now out of the spotlight, seems to have grown tired of the “Bim” lifestyle and Bibi wonders in song just what she gave up when she chose Mr. Boogalow over her hometown boyfriend:


Even skanks have feelings.  Who knew?

Allll-phie
Where are you now?
Will I ever see your face again?
You tried to set me free
Knowing all along that your love
Was no match for their evil
You came after me

And because their souls are connected (or something like that) Alphie hears her musical lament and joins her in song as he walks, bruised and battered through the rainy streets on his way back home:

Beeeee-beee
Can you hear me now?
They got me with my back against the wall
There’s no place left to turn
Should I go on living for the memory of your love
Or should I end it all?


"I may be just a stupid hick from another country, but I know enough about clever choreography to put my back to a wall when I sing 'They got me with my back against the wall'.

He continues:

Cry for me
If there are really angels to hear
Cry for me
Let the heavens rain down
With your tears
Where has all the pity gone?
I sing my song
To deafened ears

Severely weakened by his injuries, Alphie loses consciousness and only awakes several days later to the sight of his worried landlady, who serves him her homemade chicken soup.  As she spoon feeds him, she convinces him that if he still loves Bibi he has to try and find her and win her back.  He’s reluctant at first, but finally he decides to go to Mr. Boogalow’s mansion and fight for his love.  But the “Bim” folks are wily beasts, so instead of beating him up again, they welcome him into the house where Shake hooks him up with Pandi, who—for the moment at least—seems to be back on track with her peeps.


"I may just be an asshole from Moose Jaw, but I likes that hot chocolate flavour!"

The former teetotaler accepts a drink this time, shocked to see that his waiter is Joe Pittman, the reporter who once asked Mr. Boogalow an uncomfortable question—“Bim” now apparently controls the media as well!


"This is my punishment for writing the words you keep singing."

It turns out that this is the wrong time for non-drinker Alphie to get on the alcohol train, since his beverage is apparently laced with some sort of drug that first causes him to see his host as the Devil:


Fuck it.  If you haven't guessed who he is by now, you're better off watching less complicated movies starring Pauly Shore.

And then to see the rest of the guests distorted into a cheap camera effect:


"I may just be a guy who never appeared in another movie, but this is some funky trip!"

Having gotten Alphie into this disoriented state Pandi seduces him with a song:

I’m coming
Coming for you
Now, I’m coming
Coming for you

Let me tempt you
And tease you
And hold you
And squeeze you
And feel every inch of your love
Let me show you
Things you have never dreamed of

Oooooh-ohhhhhhhhh


"I may just be--mmmphmphmmmmmmmphhhhhhhhh."

Not even aware of where he is, Alphie does the nasty-nasty with Pandi as he hallucinates a dance sequence featuring couples performing choreographed routines of coitus:


I should have gone into dance instead of doing this stupid writing thing.

Pandi is still tumescent as Alphie finally figures out what is happening to him.  He escapes from his bed and looks into another bedroom only to find Bibi in bed with Dandi. 


Skanka-skanka-wah-wah!

“Who are you?” she asks him coldly. 

“Bibi!” he cries out to her. 

“What do you want?” she asks disdainfully before telling him to “Go away.” 

Dandi is so delighted by the spectacle that he gets out of bed to watch as Alphie flees the mansion, his heart broken.


Hey Carmen, am I crazy or does this guy kinda look like Mark if Mark had a bad 80s haircut?

Apparently some time before he could get home, Alphie passed out in the middle of the park, where he is awakened by a guy who looks an awfully lot like god:


Charleton Heston can go fuck himself.

But who is really just the leader of a group of hippies (and by hippies I don’t mean a bunch of folks who believe in peace and love, grow beards and listen to the Grateful Dead, but actual flower children who somehow managed to survive unchanged over the past two decades).  Hippie Leader (as he is named in the credits) offers to adopt Alphie into his fold and Alphie, being only a beard and change of outfit from being a hippie himself, accepts.


If hippies who looked like this were extinct in 1980--when this movie was made--where did they come from in 1994?

Meanwhile back at “Bim” Manor, Bibi wakes up and is horrified to find out that her vision of Alphie from the night before had not been a dream.  Pandi, once again back to her rebellious ways, convinces Bibi that if she really loves Alphie, she should leave her “Bim” stardom behind and find him.


"Girl, I totally scammed your man last night.  Holler!"

At first Shake tries to stop her, but he relents and allows her to leave, arrogantly assuming that the power of “Bim” is so strong she will not be able to escape its grasp no matter where she goes.

As Bibi leaves, Pandi goes upstairs and explains to us through song the reason for her sudden change of heart:


"I swear this sudden turn of character makes sense and it isn't just an awkard plot device!"

Something’s happened to me
Suddenly I’m not the same
I was caught in a maze
So blinded and dazed
I couldn’t remember my name

It’s Pandi.  Rhymes with Dandi.  She continues:

I was so empty
And numb inside
Now I’m full of feeling again!
I’m laughin’
I’m cryin’
I’m finally alive
I see the light
I feel it all around me
Healing me
Revealing me
I thought that I had died

Looking for Alphie, Bibi first tries his apartment, but his landlady tells her that he doesn’t live there anymore and is now hanging out under a bridge with “all those old bums.”

“Go find him,” the landlady urges her, “he needs ya.”

As she makes her way to the bridge the old bums live under, Bibi joins Pandi in a chorus of the I’m-not-the-skanky-ho-I-used-to-be song, and comes across a guy who looks an awful lot like god, but who is really just one of the old bums the landlady was talking about.


"You're Bibi?  Wow, I guess I wasn't expecting such a skank."

The man knows who she is and takes her to meet the man she is searching for.  He takes her to the caves where all of the hippies live and there—at long last—Alphie and Bibi, those two crazy kids from Moose Jaw, are reunited.  As they stare into each other’s eyes, Alphie removes her “Bim” mark, symbolically freeing her from Boogalow, and they hold each other lovingly as the Hippie Leader sings:

Child of love
Child of laaa-haya-ove!


This scene did not make me cry!  Something just got into my eye and made it water.

Cut to a year later and the Hippie Leader is still singing, but he is now joined by everyone else, including a bearded Alphie, a flower-powered Bibi and their small child, but before it can even really begin their sing-a-long is interrupted by the po-po.


"I may just be an unconvincing actor in a bad musical, but even I deserve a more realistic looking fake beard than this!"

It has taken a year, but Mr. Boogalow has finally found Bibi and wants her arrested for owing him the $10 million he lost in potential earnings when she walked out on her contract.  As the police arrest all of the dirty hippies and start taking them away, both Alphie and the Hippie Leader look up to the sky, as if they are expecting someone to arrive.

“It’s going to be all right,” Alphie assures Bibi, “I know he’s coming.”

“Who’s coming?” she asks him.

“Mr. Topps,” he answers cryptically.

“Who’s Mr. Topps?”

“Don’t worry, just trust me.  I know he’s coming,” Alphie insists.

And his faith proves warranted when everyone turns to see a golden Cadillac flying in the sky:


You know what?  Even in 1980 this would have been considered a crappy special effect.

The car stops in mid-air and out walks a man with long blond hair dressed in a white tuxedo:


I think the white suit pretty much gives it away.

“Who the hell are you?” shouts out a belligerent police officer.

“They call me Mr. Topps,” the man answers him confidently. 

The officer orders another officer to arrest the man, but before the guy can make his move he finds himself frozen in place and paralyzed from the waist down.  Mr. Topps then tells Alphie and Bibi to come with him:


"I'll tell you how I knew about this Mr. Topps guy--who I weirdly never mentioned before--when the movie is over."

But before he starts walking. Mr. Topps is interrupted by Mr. Boogalow.

“Hey, Topps, what do you think you are doing?” asks the sinister agent.

“I’ve had enough of you,” Topps answers him.  Boogalow’s lawyers then insist that they have a warrant for Bibi's arrest, but Topps makes it vanish with a snap of his fingers.  He then invites all of the hippies to join him and en masse they start following Alphie and Bibi on the invisible stairway to the great gold Cadillac in the sky as a heavenly choir sings “Love is the Universal Melody”. 

Despite the fact that she apparently has stayed with the “Bim” folks for the past year, Pandi is sufficiently reformed enough to be allowed to join the hippies, while the rest of her wicked compatriots can only watch with disbelief.


Shouldn't she at least take off that "Bim" thing first?"

“…Where do you think you’re taking them?” Boogalow asks his golden-haired counterpart.


I want to get a wig that looks like that.  I think I could really pull it off quite nicely.

“I don’t know yet,” Topps admits.  “I’m looking for a new place.”

“A new planet?” wonders Boogalow.

“If I can find one free from your pollution,” answers Topps.


I have no snark left that would properly match the cheesiness of this image.

“Don’t tell me you’re going to start all over again,” Boogalow says snidely.

“Yes,” Topps answers sincerely, “but this time without you.”


The battle of good and evil, ladies and gentlemen.  Thank you and good night.

“Without me?”  Boogalow can’t believe his ears.  “But my dear Topps you know that is impossible.  The world simply cannot exist without me.”

The world can’t exist without another sleazy music agent?  Oh wait, I get it!  Mr. Boogalow's the devil! 

I never saw that one coming!

“Let’s give it a try,” says Topps before he joins the others on their journey to a place without sin.

And, in case you forgot, this has been:



Well that was The Apple.  Since this post turned out to be far longer than I thought it was going to be, I’m going to end it here for today and go into my analysis of the film tomorrow.  So, until then:


God


Not God

Getting to the Core of The Apple

Why It Sucks As Hard As It Does

Like most WWTTM, The Apple fails largely because it attempts to combine two elements that wiser folks would have determined worked to each other’s detriment.  It wants to be a cult midnight movie in the same vein as The Rocky Horror Picture Show and to that end features a tale full of sex, drugs and rock & roll, along with a large dollop of gay camp aesthetic, but it also wants to be a moralistic allegory about the Biblical event known as the Rapture, in which only those who reject the path of sin know the glory of eternal righteousness. 

It’s a lethal combination since it is precisely this kind of condescending moralizing that kept midnight movie audiences away from the work of mainstream Hollywood.  It also hurts the film since it ultimately suggests that there is something sinful about the camp sensibility the film embraces to tell its story.  Even though Rocky Horror’s chief sexual transgressor, Dr. Frank-N-Furter, is killed at the end of the film, it is obvious that he is not dying for any crimes of sexuality, especially when you consider that at least one of his executors is just as much a transvestite as he is. But in The Apple the characters whose behavior implies that they are homosexual (the film is actually too tame to make these implications explicit) are clearly on the side of evil—allied as they are to Mr. Boogalow, who is supposed to represent mankind at its evil and most decadent.  The result of this is an extremely schizophrenic film in which the audience is expected to be entertained by musical sequences that the film itself denounces as corrupt and sinful.

That’s not to say that this approach could not work in more talented hands.  Bob Fosse’s Cabaret for example skillfully played with the audience’s emotions by presenting us with musical sequences that were—on their face—quite charming, but that were, beneath their surface, full of unpleasant subtext about human greed, jealousy, nationalism and bigotry.  But in the case of The Apple writer/director Menahem Golan and lyricists George S. Clinton and Iris Recht seemingly lack the talent or sophistication required to make this approach work.  

Another factor in the film's failure is its running time, which at 86 minutes is extremely short for a musical that features 12 songs.  The result is a structure similar to many operettas, where the major narrative thrust of the film is told in song.  In the hands of a Gilbert and Sullivan this can work marvelously, but here the structure only succeeds in highlighting the film’s complete lack of character development and logical motivation.  Rather than present a situation where Bibi is seduced by Dandi and finds herself attracted to him, the film merely puts them together for two minutes and has Bibi wondering in song how the touch of his hand can make her tremble.  And were it not for the song Pandi sings after she helps Bibi escape from Boogalow, we would have no idea why she suddenly decided to rebel against her manager, and even then the song never actually explains her change of heart, it only tells us that it happened.

In that same vein, we are presented with a villain who is supposed to represent the Devil and, as such, the personification of evil, but whose actions never rise to the level of malevolence most would associate with the Prince of Darkness.  In his songs Boogalow comes across more cynical than evil and we never actually see him do anything that we wouldn’t expect a music mogul at his level of success to do.  Though the film implies that he has taken over the government, the only evidence we see of him taking advantage of this power is through his forcing everyone to wear bim marks and requiring that they dance in the street everyday at 4 PM.  This first act is obviously nothing more than a clumsy analogy to the Bible’s “Mark of the Beast” and the second is just an excuse to work in another musical number.  It doesn’t help that Vladek Sheybal’s performance in the role exudes far more charm than menace.  Even in the end, when he is talking to Mr. Topps, his eternal antagonist, he comes across more like an old friend who can’t believe his pal is taking such a tiny slight so seriously than someone confronting his greatest enemy in the universe.

But, as mentioned before, the film’s chief flaw is the way it embraces the camp aesthetic for its musical numbers in order to facilitate a story whose moral is a direct repudiation of that very same aesthetic.  What really makes this hurt the film is that the few numbers specifically designed to reject this aesthetic are easily the worst and least entertaining in the movie.  By far the worst song in the film is “Love is the Universal Melody”, which in any other movie would serve as a parody of the worst lyrical excesses of self-satisfied new age poseurs, but here is meant to prove the purity of Alphie’s heart and his connection to Mr. Topps.  Alphie is presented as trying to fight to get his songs heard in a cruel, corrupt world that no longer considers the values of love and devotion to be marketable, but the problem with attempting to make this struggle seem heroic is that his songs suck so badly in comparison to such cheesily entertaining numbers as “Bim”, “Life is Nothing But Show Business” and “Speed”.  That’s not to say that those songs could accurately be described as good, but they at least have the benefit of not being meant to be taken seriously.  

One must assume that Golan knew that the film's supposedly “evil” characters were much more compelling than his “good” ones due to the scant amount of screen time these “good” characters receive.  Even in 1980 the idea of presenting Hippies as a symbol of purity and freedom was a laughable one and it is easy to suspect that Golan chose them more because it would be easier to costume a bunch of extras as flower children than to come up with an original alternative.  Still, as lame as they are, it is surprising that they are not given the benefit of a single genuine musical number.  Beyond enjoying a quickly interrupted sing-along near the end of the film, the entire group remains mute in the picture, with only the Hippie Leader being given anything to say.  We are meant to accept that theirs is a purer, better way of life not because of anything we are shown, but simply because it is not connected to the outside world, which—beyond the lame 4 PM dancing thing—appears to be far more fun and interesting than living with a bunch of dirty folks in a cave.

And then there’s Mr. Topps or, as I like to think of him, Mr. Deus Ex Machina.  Truly this is a case of God out of the machine at its most literal and clumsiest.  I would have to watch the movie again to be 100% sure, but I’m fairly certain that there is not one reference to this character before Alphie starts looking for him up in the sky, expecting him to appear.  Perhaps Golan wanted us to be surprised by this ending, but the only result this sudden appearance by God to give the movie a happy conclusion inspires is embarrassed disbelief.  Again it doesn’t help the film that Topps is so intent on finding a world without Boogalow’s “pollution” when that pollution doesn’t look that unbearable.  In The Apple Golan has produced a film about the coming of Armageddon (which is the event that follows directly after the Rapture) in which neither the End of Days or its eventual aftermath seem all that bad or—at the very least—seems infinitely preferable to the alternative.

Uh and did I mention that the movie is really tacky?

Okay, so that’s why The Apple sucks. Before we consider why it's awesome, let us once again remember what it's all about:


Good


Evil

Which one would you choose?

 
Why The Apple Is Awesome

In my last post on The Apple I discussed why it has to be considered an artistic failure and I didn’t even bother to mention such noticeable flaws as the fact that Alphie speaks with an obviously European accent, despite the fact that he is supposed to be from Moose Jaw or that the supposedly futuristic limo that shuffles Mr. Boogalow around the city is a dead ringer for Homer Simpson’s dream car. 


The Apple (1980)


The Simpsons "Oh Brother, Where Art Thou?" (1990)

There is no doubt that it is a bad movie, so why then do I have enough genuine affection for it that it has inspired me to spend this much time discussing it on my blog?

Because it Rocks! 

Not just musically, but spiritually as well.  And what do I mean when I say it Rocks?  Let’s just say that you’ll not find my definition of the term in your standard Oxford Dictionary.  No, it is an entirely personal definition.  One that is best explained by example rather than words.

Rocks


Alice Cooper

Does Not Rock


The Eagles

Rocks


Pat Benatar

Does Not Rock


Olivia Newton-John

Rocks


Rock 'n' Roll High School

Does Not Rock


Roller Boogie

While these examples obviously speak for themselves, I feel dutybound to explain myself further--the old fashioned way.  Y'know...With words....

What all of these examples in both catagories have in common is an essential cheesiness that is evident throughout their achievements, but what makes some of them Rock, while the others Do Not Rock, is a willingness to embrace that cheesiness with an enormous deathgrip bearhug so powerful that it actually becomes what makes them cool.  By accepting their own cheesiness, they transcend it, while those that Do Not Rock try to pretend that their innate cheesiness does not exist, which only serves to highlight how truly lame they are.  The Apple Rocks because it is never--not for one moment--ashamed of what it is.  Rather than let itself be brought down by its absurd tackiness, it defines itself by it.  Despite the mixed signals of its ultimate theme, it is a movie that takes the rebel stance required to so brazenly choose an aesthetic that ultimately dooms it to failure.  It is the spiritual equivalent of a drag queen who goes to a straight Country & Western Bar; it knows it is going to get its assed kick, but it goes anyway--with its knee length boots on.  And so, like Alice Cooper, Pat Benatar and Rock 'n' Roll High School, The Apple Rocks because it understands this fundamental truth; you can only feel shame if you think you have something to be ashamed about.

And though this is the major reason I love this movie, I would be remiss if I didn't point out a few of the smaller things that I enjoy about this film.

1) Catherine Mary Stewart

Though in my very long breakdown of the movie I made it extremely explicit that I did not have fond feelings for the character of Bibi, that antipathy does not transcend over to the actress who played her.  Out of all the young actors for whom The Apple was their big break, only she managed to have anything that approached a career (in fact the film marked George Gilmour's--aka Alphie--sole screen credit) and it is easy to see why, as she is absolutely adorable in a way you seldom see in movies in today (maybe Amanda Bynes, but that's pretty much it).  Sure it helps that I'm automatically pulling for her since she's a hometown girl (she's from Edmonton), but she undeniably exudes a quality of likability without which Bibi would have been truly unbearable.  Her career following The Apple wasn't hugely impressive, but it did feature some memorable roles in some under-rated films, most notably The Last Starfighter and a film that should be a much bigger cult classic than it currently is, Night of the Comet (in which she plays a valley girl who, with her friend, takes the apocalypse in stride and uses it as an excuse to go to the mall and take all of the free clothes she wants).

2) Mr. Boogalow and Mr. Topps

Vladek Shebal and Joss Ackland were both character actors who had long, well-established careers before The Apple and it is easy to see why.  Though Shebal exudes no real menace as Boogalow, he is constantly fun to watch and plays his role with a droll charm that never wavers no matter how absurd the circumstance.  While I have little good to say about Ackland's role as Hippie Leader (a fact which has more to do with my dislike for the character than his perfomance itself), his take on Mr. Topps manages to add a genuine sense of pathos and victory to an absurdly stupid ending.  He even manages to make the blond wig work (which, despite 'Mato's comment to the contrary, I still insist I could pull off with aplomb).

3) I Love Musicals with Singers Who Can't Sing

As someone who grew up loving singers like Bob Dylan, Tom Waits, Leonard Cohen and Lou Reed, I have long believed that a voice that exhibits genuine character and emotion is always more interesting than anything that comes out of the vocal chords of the classically trained.  That's why I've always had a fondness for musicals that feature songs performed by actors with non-traditional singing voices.  When I read James Robert Parish's book Fiasco the moment he truly lost me was when he insisted that the reason Lee Marvin's rendition of "Wandrin' Star" from Paint Your Wagon became a minor hit on the charts was because of its "hilarious awfulness".  This annoyed me, because I find Marvin's performance of the song, as it appears in the film, genuinely moving.  I also adore the moment in Everyone Says I Love You when Woody Allen sings "I'm Through With Love" in his thin, Woody Allen voice and I consider the moment when he and Goldie Hawn dance together besides the Seine to be one of the most magical scenes in film history.  This is why I love "Life is Nothing But Show Business in 1994" and "I Know How to be a Master" as they are performed by Shebal.  Though he is clearly not a singer (as neither was Catherine Mary Stewart, whose songs were performed by a singer named Mary Hylan) he still manages to make his numbers work as well as their relative quality would allow.

4) Colour!

Damn if this isn't a big bright rainbow of a movie!

5) Most Other People Hate It

Which is a virtue to a natural contrarian like myself.

So that, in and out and around a nutshell is why The Apple Rocks and why it is a WWTTM I am going to keep watching and enjoying for the rest of my life.

'Nuff said.

Repost - The Demon and Mary Marvel, A House of Glib Fumetti

A Tale of Love Found and Love Lost

There once was a very sad demon

 

Who was a touch overdramatic

 

 

One day he came upon a statue

of a beautiful young woman

 

 

And found what he had

always been looking for

 

There was just one problem

 

 

But it wasn't insurmountable....

 

Believing that there might

be a magical solution to his problem

the lovesick demon went to visit

a famous (and leggy) sorceress

 

 

But the sorceress wasn't convinced

and needed to hear more

 

 

This is what the sorceress

needed to hear

 

 

It took quite a long time,

but eventually the demon did everything

that the sorceress asked him to

and she gave him the spell he desired

 

 

Which (roughly) translated into English meant

 

 

His spell now cast

the demon waited anxiously

for it to take effect

 

 

Having recited the magical spell

he had sacrificed so much to learn,

the demon waited to see

if all his effort had been worth it

 

 

Minutes passed

and the statue did not move

 

 

And the demon feared

all his toil had been for naught....

 

That is until....

 

 

She began to stir!

 

 

The demon was overjoyed!

 

 

But....

 

 

The statue....

 

 

 

Seemed to have

something else in mind....

 

 

Actually, make that

someone else....

 

 

The demon took it

as well as he could

 

 

Moral:

 

No matter how pure

your love may be,

the hot girl is

ALWAYS

going to pick

the taller douchebag

 

THE END

Repost: Fumetti Theatre

The House of Glib

is

Proud to Present

 

Fumetti Theater

 

Starring

 

Jessica from DragonQuest VIII

 

 

This is the story of a girl named Zadie

 

Click Image to Enlarge

 

She was very beautiful

 

Click Image to Enlarge

 

But also very sad

 

Click Image to Enlarge

 

She was sad

because she thought her life

was without meaning

 

Click Image to Enlarge

 

So she went to her grandfather

 

Click Image to Enlarge

 

And asked

 

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He answered

 

Click Image to Enlarge

 

Zadie thought about this

 

 

Click Image to Enlarge

 

And she decided to ask someone else

 

Click Image to Enlarge

 

So she went East

and found a friendly ear

 

Click Image to Enlarge

 

Zadie thought about this

 

 

Click Image to Enlarge

 

And she decided to ask someone else

 

Click Image to Enlarge

 

So she went West

and found the Smartest Man in the World

 

Click Image to Enlarge

 

Zadie thought about this

 

 

Click Image to Enlarge

 

And she decided to ask someone else

 

Click Image to Enlarge

 

So she went South

and found a wealthy businessman

 

Click Image to Enlarge

 

Zadie thought about this

 

 

Click Image to Enlarge

 

And she decided to ask someone else

 

  Click Image to Enlarge

 

So she went North

and found someone very pale

 

Click Image to Enlarge

 

Zadie thought about this

 

 

Click Image to Enlarge

 

And she decided to ask someone else

 

Click Image to Enlarge

 

So she went back home

and ran into a girl

she used to know from school

 

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And

having nothing to lose

she asked the old acquaintance her question

 

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Zadie thought about this

 

Click Image to Enlarge

 

And she applied for a job

at The Boom-Chicka-Chicka-Wa-Wa Lounge

 

Click Image to Enlarge

 

Moral:

Cleavage is destiny