"Joe Bob Goes to the Drive-In" for 6/26/92
cutline: Brinke Stevens, the star of "Teenage Exorcist," also wrote the dialogue--but who cares?
By Joe Bob Briggs
Drive-In Movie Critic of Grapevine, Texas
When William M. Gaines died a couple weeks ago, the media treated him like a harmless old geezer, a jokester who published Mad Magazine and wrote great parodies of movies.
Nobody remembers ANYTHING anymore.
William M. Gaines was one of the greatest First Amendment guys we had in the whole dang century. He fought censors his whole life, and he usually spent his own money doing it.
Most people know "Tales From the Crypt" as an HBO series, but it was originally a comic book invented by Gaines in the early 1950's, and it was considered so disgusting that there were actual LAWS passed to get rid of it. Senator Estes Kefauver held "juvenile delinquency" hearings in which he cited Gaines' books as contributing to the decline of teenage morals. In fact, three of Gaines' comic books--"Tales From the Crypt," "The Vault of Horror," and "The Haunt of Fear"--were run out of business by the creation of the Comics Code Authority in 1954. And from that day forward, comic books had to have a Comics Code "seal of approval" on the cover, or else the major national distributors would refuse to carry them. And the code specifically forbade words like "horror" that were used in the titles of Gaines' books!
Were the fifties great or what?
The only GOOD thing about the Comics Code was that, since Gaines lost all his best titles, he eventually decided to turn "Mad," the comic book, into "Mad," the magazine. And he spent the rest of his life publishing satire considered so subversive that a lot of schools forbid students to read it.
"Mad" frequently parodied popular songs--and, in the sixties, Irving Berlin sued the magazine for making fun of his lyrics, claiming they should have to ask him for permission and pay royalties (even though Gaines didn't print Berlin's music or lyrics--he simply wrote "Sung to the tune of . . ."). At considerable expense, Gaines fought Berlin all the way to the Supreme Court, and beat him--scoring an important legal victory for satirists.
In fact, part of that Supreme Court opinion has been often quoted by people in the biz. Judge Kaufman, writing for the majority, said, "Irving Berlin does not own iambic pentameter."
People think censorship battles are fought between evil government officials and right-thinking, upright novelists and artists.
Wrong. EVERYBODY believes that novelists and artists should be allowed to say what they think or write their books or do their sculptures. EVERYBODY believes that The New York Times should never be censored.
No, it's the goofy guys, the offbeat characters, like William M. Gaines, who fight the real battles. Because most people will say, "Well, it's only Mad Magazine. What does it matter?"
It matters.
The courts have proven again and again that it matters.
It's guys like William M. Gaines that make guys like Salman Rushdie possible.
William M. Gaines was 84 when he died, and everyone who knew him knows that he didn't have an enemy in the world. He held no grudges against any of the many people who tried to put him out of business. He had done what any great satirist does--laughed at 100 per cent of the human race. All the people who read hidden agendas into his work were disappointed. He was interested in humor. Nothing else.
I'm REALLY sorry he's gone.
Speaking of people with too much time on their hands, Brinke Stevens, my favorite scream queen, has a new movie that she not only stars in--she WROTE the mother. So you can rest assured that "Teenage Exorcist" has absolutely no plot to get in the way of the story. It's mostly Brinke vamping around a house, wearing a dog collar and black lingerie, flogging a pizza boy with a riding crop and discussing the meaning of life with a mucus-faced goat monster who lives in her basement.
Actually, this is the story of an independent young professional woman who rents a new 12-bedroom house from a brain-damaged street person for $25 a month--and thinks it's just one of those great El Lay bargain rentals. Pretty soons she's attacked by a party dress, harassed by lights that keep flicking on and off, and--SCARIEST OF ALL--haunted by a breathing milk carton.
All together now: Ooooooooooooo!
Pretty soon we find out that something is WRONG with Brinke, because her sister comes over and discovers that Brinke is drinking, smoking, and cleaning men's pants for no reason. Then Brinke gets out the chainsaw and chases her sister around the back yard, and then her sister's husband chains Brinke to the bed, but then her boyfriend comes over and lets her loose, and then zombies come, and then they try to call an exorcist but they order a pizza instead, and then she turns into a dog, and . . . actually, I don't remember WHAT this movie is about. I do remember the final confrontation, between the demon-possessed lingerie-wearing dominatrix Brinke, and the sacrificial teenage pizza boy:
Brinke says, "Look deep into my eyes. What do you see?"
And the pizza boy says, "Too much mascara?"
Two dead bodies. Six breasts. Three zombies. Head-clobbering with shovel. Feeble chainsaw attack. Catfight. Burning head. Flaming Bible. Gratuitous cellar rats. Gratuitous boa constrictor. Kung Fu. Party dress Fu. Bloody-lettuce Fu. Milk carton Fu. Drive-In Academy Award nominations for Brinke Stevens, for finding a 15-foot snake in her bedroom and saying "Something is happening to me," for throwing up on a plaster saint, and for saying "I'm so helpless here you culd do anything you wanted to me"; Oliver Darrow, as the goat-demon, for saying "I do live here forever!"; Jay Richardson, as the weenie husband of Brinke's sister, for tying her up and saying "You haven't exactly been yourself lately, Diane"; Tom Shell, as the wimp boyfriend, for saying "You are my goddess"; and Eddie Deezen, in the title role, for saying "Is everyone in this house a total nutzoid or is it just me?"
One star.
Joe Bob says check it out.
VIDEO QUICKIE
"Marley's Revenge: The Monster Movie" (1989): Micro-budget zombie movie, shot in North Carolina with amateur actors, that's mostly footage of two guys (Alvin Johnson and Donnie Broom, who's also the co-screenwriter) running through the woods, chased by rednecks, zombies and a giant dinosaur that they fend off with a boat paddle. There's also something involving a voodoo priest named Marley who stumbles around staring vacantly into space and issuing curses, and a completely impenetrable subplot about Vietnamese refugees. Eleven dead bodies. No breasts. One-half star.
JOE BOB'S ADVICE TO THE HOPELESS
Victory over Communism! The Spud Drive-In in Driggs, Idaho, remains the Number One landmark in town after 37 years of great business. It's best known for the huge potato sticking up out of a 1951 Ford pickup that is always parked in front of the 50-foot screen, but it is almost notable among theater owners for being one of the few drive-ins in America that still uses old-fashioned speakers on poles, carbon-rod projectors, a $2.50 admission, the famous "Spud Burger"--and the movies change EVERY THREE DAYS. M. Chesley of San Francisco, Sandra Markle of Dallas and Mark Aikele of San Francisco all remind us that, with eternal vigilance, the drive-in will never die. To discuss the meaning of life with Joe Bob, or to get free junk in the mail and Joe Bob's world-famous "We Are the Weird" newsletter, write Joe Bob Briggs, P.O. Box 2002, Dallas, TX 75221. Joe Bob's Fax line is always open: 214-368-2310.
Dear Joe Bob,
I've been reading and thoroughly enjoying your column in the "Stars and Stripes" newspaper (European edition--I live in Heidelberg, Germany) for the last year or so. Let me tell you that it's one of the high points of my Sunday morning reading.
Also, you may be interested in knowing that your column is causing quite a skirmish over here. In a plethora of Letters to the Editor of the S&S, your column has been slam-dunked more often than a basketball in a Michael Jordan-Charles Barkley playoff, all authored by females who appreciate outrageous humor/social comment about as much as Saddam Hussein appreciates human rights. Thought you might like to know you are offending people worldwide now.
Sincerely,
R.C. Black
U.S. Army
Heidelberg, Germany
Dear
R.C.:
Is it true what they say about Hamburg?
And you know EXACTLY what I'm talking about.
Dear Joe Bob:
I was watching "Deliverance" the other night and was amazed to discover that Prince Chuckles of Jolly Old England had an uncredited cameo. For the one reader that didn't see it, he was the banjo player that played a duet with Ronny Cox. Could this explain those nasty rumors of pig-squealing sounds coming out of Buckingham Palace recently? I gotta know.
Sincerely,
Your hog calling friend,
Bubba Blackburn
Kyle, Tex.
Dear
Bubba:
So he can play polo AND the banjo. We've found two things now. A little more therapy for the boy, and Mom can die in peace.
Dear Joe Bob,
I was shocked to read your column "The Reason For AIDS."
Pleasantly so.
It is refreshing to find an objective and rational viewpoint about AIDS and gayness and the daily barrage of hatred, lies, myths, stereotypes and misinformation.
Thank you very much.
All best wishes,
Alan Blackman
San Francisco
Dear
Alan:
Believe it or not, there were people who
OBJECTED to that AIDS article.
This is a rotten place.
Dear Joe Bob,
Ever since Larry Flynt, Mapplethorpe and Pete Rose, Cincinnati hasn't been much fun.
I don't know how cosmic or wise you are, but you're funny as hell and that's worth more. I mean, think of the career Socrates would have had if he had a little sense of humor?
Write on,
David Bishop
Cincinnati
Dear
David:
Yeah, he could have said, "Take my hemlock. Please."
Dear Mr. Briggs:
Regarding your recent "Morgan Fairchild Hooks Them In" movie review-cum-condom ad: Bravo! It is not only just about the funniest thing I've ever read, but also the best advertising for safe sex since Bill Murray's second "Late Night" appearance. Keep up the good work!
Sincerely,
David Bolich
Berkeley, Calif.
Dear
David:
Condoms are no laughing matter.
Well, maybe some of the tropical-fruit-colored ones are.
© 1992 Joe Bob Briggs All Rights Reserved