"Joe Bob's Drive-In" for 3/20/95
cutline: [TK]
By Joe Bob Briggs
Drive-In Movie Critic of Grapevine, Texas
Whoopi Goldberg, Billy Crystal, Johnny Carson, Cher, Madonna, David Letterman, Robin Williams and Boyz II Men will not be making any of the presentations of Hubbie Awards this year, because NOBODY SHOWED UP EXCEPT ME, AS USUAL.
May I have the goldang envelope, please?
The Drive-In Academy Award, by the way, has been awarded continuously since 1982 and is called the Hubbie, because the actual award is engraved on a 1968 Oldsmobile hubcap. I'm surprised I have to explain this stuff.
And our first category is . . .
BEST HORROR FLICK
The runners-up are . . .
"Hellbound," starring Chuck Norris as a cop who goes to Israel to apprehend a 700-year-old demon who's going all over the world, killing holy men, so he can reassemble the ancient Crown of the Scepter of Prosatanos (don't ask), and then sacrifice an airhead bimbo so he can open the gates to hell.
"Phantasm III: Lord of the Dead," about this real ugly-lookin old skinny guy who goes around collecting dead bodies, and the way you know he's coming is that a flying Christmas tree ornament with daggers stickin out of it tries to imbed itself in your skull right before The Tall Man shows up.
And the winner is . . .
"Haunted Symphony," starring Ben Cross as a third-rate composer in 18th-century France who gets hired by a foxy heiress to complete the symphony her uncle was writing when the town lynched him for being a devil worshipper.
BEST EROTIC THRILLER
The runners-up are . . .
"Killer Looks," starring Sara Suzanne Brown as the big-breasted wife who cries a lot when her kinky husband makes her bring home strange men for his amusement.
"Scorned," the excellent "Hand That Rocks the Cradle" rip-off, with Shannon Tweed as the Widow From Hell, Tutor From Hell, and Psycho Sex Demon From Hell.
And the winner is . . .
"Cold Sweat," the Canadian hired-assassin erotic ghost story about a hitman hired by Shannon Tweed's husband to kill either her or the man she's sleeping with, but meanwhile he's trying to get rid of the sexy nekkid ghost that's following him around.
BEST KUNG FU FLICK
The runners-up are . . .
"American Cyborg," the first right-to-life sci-fi flick, about a fetus-in-a-jar that's gonna save the world, with a lot of cannibals and mutants rampaging through the streets in full-body gross-out makeup.
"Resort To Kill," an army of Mayan Steroid Monsters facing Rowdy Roddy Piper in the jungle.
And the winner is . . .
"Red Sun Rising," the movie that asks the question, "What if the El Lay gang wars were REALLY caused entirely by Japanese samurai drug lords and their armies of black-magic killer ninjas?"
BEST ACTION FLICK
The runners-up are . . .
"The Dallas Connection," the story of a six-foot big-breasted foreign agent in the tiniest mini-skirt in the history of the universe, who has wild animal sex with people, shoots them in the forehead, then says, "God you were good--but hey, so was I."
"Midnight Witness," road picture based on the Rodney King case where a couple videotapes a police beating, the cops bust up their apartment, a dead body results, and pretty soon the couple is heading for Vegas with angry cops in pursuit.
And the winner is . . .
"Quick," the story of a blonde bombshell assassin who walks into Beverly Hills boutiques and blows gangsters away, but feels real depressed about it afterwards--kind of like "Mary Tyler Moore Joins the Mafia," with kinky sex.
BEST MINDLESS SEX COMEDY
The runners-up are . . .
"Teenage Catgirls in Heat," the story of what would happen if somebody's grandma in Texas unleashed the power of the 4,000-year-old Keshra Cat Sphinx, causing cats to fling themselves off telephone poles and railroad bridges, committing suicide and turning into ravenous oversexed man-eating bimbos that prance around on tiptoe.
"Test Tube Teens From the Year 2000," the tale of high school students from the future who zap themselves back to 1994 so they can sneak into a girls boarding school, dress in drag, sleep with future Playboy Playmates, and convince Morgan Fairchild that she shouldn't carry out her plan to make all sex illegal.
And the winner is . . .
"Dinosaur Island," prehistoric bikini babes wearing nothing but furry loin cloths and animal-skin tops, running around a desert island being chased by giant dinosaurs and ripping off their clothes for some stranded Army guys who wash up on shore one day.
BEST ACTOR
The runners-up are . . .
Sean Bridgers, "Road Kill USA," as the small-town South Carolina kid who, even after the fourth murder, still thinks he's just riding around with some ECCENTRICS.
Miguel Ferrer, "The Harvest," as the pill-popping pottery-smashing burned-out screenwriter who wakes up one day to find his left kidney missing.
And the winner is . . .
Ben Cross, for two roles--"Haunted Symphony," as the composer who puts on his frilly shirt, starts playing the piano, and ends up strangling hookers with piano wire down at the local brothel; and "Cold Sweat," as the sensitive hitman who decides he doesn't like killing anymore, especially when the ghost of an innocent victim follows him around in the nude.
BEST ACTRESS
The runners-up are . . .
Kim Morgan Greene, for two roles--"Resort To Kill," as the fearless reporter who wears a lot of expensive short skirts and stands around the jungle while stuff blows up; and "Scorned," as the ditzy pill-poppin wife who says "Don't patronize me, I am NOT crazy!"
Vivian Schilling, "Future Shock," as a paranoid housewife, left all alone in her big Malibu mansion, who finds out that her suspicions are TRUE: there ARE wild wolves killing all the pets and chewing people's faces off in the Malibu canyons.
And the winner is . . .
Teri Polo, "Quick," the chain-smoking guilt-ridden hitwoman who only kills for true love, helping slimeball DEA agent Jeff Fahey work off his gambling debts, so that later Jeff'll chain her to the bed, pull her hair, and make her yell a lot.
BREAST ACTRESS
The runners-up are . . .
Margot Hope, "Femme Fontaine: Killer Babe For the CIA," as the Hot Honey who slinks around the globe in mini-skirts and lingerie, bumping off scuzzballs for the CIA and taking on a crazed band of lesbian neo-Nazis.
Cassandra Leigh, "Midnight Tease," as the troubled young dancer-with-a-heart-of-darkness in a Nekkid Garbonza Joint who decides that something might be wrong when she starts having dreams where she slits the throats of all her customers and all the other dancers.
Brittany McCrena, "Taxi Dancers," as the little babe from Arizona who gets out of a cab one day, goes to work dancing with geeks, falls in love with the first pizza delivery boy she meets, considers marrying a gambling addict who's been married six times, and mostly sits around with her legs crossed and her eyes glazed over.
Vanna White, "Gypsy Angels," who wears a gold-sequined bra under her clothes at all times and says things like "Love me, please, love me" and "He lied to me! Jeff promised that he'd always be with me!" and "Let me tell you one thing, mister. I am one fine stripper, real kinky. You know what I mean? You betcha," and, in her big emotional moment, "No more G-strings. No more smoky rooms, and potheads, and hookers, and those old terrible men, and the tassels."
And the winner is . . .
Michelle Bauer, for three roles--"Assault of the Party Nerds II: The Heavy Petting Detective," as the lonely belching horny housewife; "Bikini Drive-In," as the ultimate scream queen, doing that Michelle Bauer vamp pout by the pool, in the limo, and, of course, at the drive-in; and "Dinosaur Island," as the catfighting virgin.
BEST SLIMEBALL
The runners-up are . . .
Maxwell Caulfield, "Midnight Witness," as a corrupt cop who's not too happy when he finds out he just auditioned for "I Witness Video."
John Laughlin, "Improper Conduct," the ad executive who's so creepy, sleazy, slimy, geeky, oily, and generally a Reptile in a Business Suit that he spends all his time recruiting "executive assistants" he can sleep with.
James Lew, "Red Sun Rising," as a long-haired Michael Bolton-lookin assassin who does this thing with his finger called the "death touch." He sticks his finger in your ribs, like he's about to tickle your belly button, and it causes you to start throwin up and then keel over dead on the pavement.
Dave Thomas, "Cold Sweat," as the disgusting overweight Binaca-spraying real estate mogul married to Shannon Tweed who breaks a lot of expensive dinnerware and says "You're screwing around on me, aren't you?"
And the winner is . . .
Andrew Porter, "Road Kill USA," as a twisted sneering redneck maniac with too much time on his hands.
BEST BITCH
The runners-up are . . .
Ami Dolenz, "Rescue Me," as the smart-mouth little rich-girl cheerleader Prairie Queen at a Nebraska high school who gets kidnapped by a a couple of Beavis-and-Butthead crooks.
Beverly Garland, "Haunted Symphony," as the housekeeping witch who grinds up maggots and feeds em to the cast, then tries to kill the heroine so she can claim her body and be young again and have sex with a dead man.
And the winner is . . .
Lenore Andriel, "Eyes of the Serpent," as the bitch queen Corva, searching for that perfect nekkid girl to sacrifice on the altar of blood and become ruler of the world, while screaming "Do I have to do everything myself?"
BEST MONSTER
The runners-up are . . .
Uri Gavriel, "American Cyborg," as the grotesquely-deformed cannibal mutant leader who drools over a woman strapped to a cross and says "I believe beauty can only truly be appreciated through TASTE."
Woon, "Resort To Kill," as the most notorious serial killer in history, who has been killed by Meg Foster's men, injected with rare Mayan steroids, and turned loose in the jungle to become an indestructible killing machine.
And the winner is . . .
Lenore Zann, "Cold Sweat," as the sexy ghost who gets killed in the first scene of the movie but FINISHES THE MOVIE.
BEST FEMME FATALE
The runners-up are . . .
Leilani Sarelle Ferrer, "The Harvest," as the sultry blonde who likes to dance with an ice cube in her pants and stand in the rain while saying "I like to get wet."
Elizabeth Gracen, "Discretion Assured," as the hot little call girl with a heart of gold, who says "I prefer primitive art, with snakes and scorpions."
And the winner is . . .
Bo Derek, "Woman of Desire," as the Queen Slut of the Caribbean who sleeps with half the sailors in the Atlantic, causes Jeff Fahey to be sent to jail on a murder charge, and says "A long time ago I decided that the key to life was pleasing men."
BEST KICKBOXER
The runners-up are . . .
Rowdy Roddy Piper, "Resort To Kill," the ONLY ex-pro wrestler who can actually act, as a cop who teams up with a grief-stricken Japanese samurai patrolman who accidentally shot his wife to death but lived to fire again, on a suicide mission into the jungle.
Jerry Trimble, "One Man Army," as a mild-mannered El Lay Tae Kwon Do teacher who sounds like a Latvian accountant with a hernia as he kicks righteous hiney back in his tiny hometown where a crooked sheriff is smuggling immigrants.
And the winner is . . .
Don "The Dragon" Wilson, "Red Sun Rising," as a half-Japanese, half-American cop who's working in Kyoto when his partner gets wasted and so he goes to El Lay and searches for the wealthy gangster who did it.
BEST GROSS-OUT EFFECT
The runners-up are . . .
"The Crawlers": Tree root through the eyeball.
"Cronos": A guy looks in the mirror, sees his face peeling off, rips open his shirt, and sticks his hand inside his stomach to see what it feels like in there.
"Eyes of the Serpent": Eye burned out with a hot poker, in closeup.
"Mirror Mirror 2": Table-saw to the back.
"Shrunken Heads": Mouth maggots.
"The Unearthing": An old zombie woman sucks blood out of human wrists, claws her way up onto the roof and starts twitching until a 90-foot-long throbbing bloody muscle unspools out of her throat like a garden hose and snakes its way into the bedroom where a pregnant girl is sleeping and hooks up to the umbilical cord.
And the winner is . . .
"Road Kill USA": Jeff Pillars is a sleazeball motel owner and rapist who dies by having his mouth and nostrils Super-Glued shut.
BEST SCENE WE COULDN'T MAKE UP
The runners-up are . . .
"Angel of Destruction": Maria Ford is awakened by a prowler and does a five-minute kung fu scene in the nude, complete with scissor-kicks.
"The Crawlers": A guy escapes from jail by PICKING THE LOCK on his cell.
"The Dallas Connection": Wendy Hamilton, a ruthless big-breasted federal agent, sabotages a Jet Ski by pouring Diet Coke into the gas tank.
"Demon Keeper": Elsa Martin is a lesbian who massages another woman and says, "I'm very good at this--I used to be a misogynist."
"Femme Fontaine: Killer Babe For the CIA": Margot Hope, in the title role, kills an international master criminal by knocking on his door and pretending he ordered her from an escort service.
"Ice": Traci Lords takes a shower but fails to remove her underwear.
"Nothing To Lose": Hero Juliano Mar is captured by the most vicious coke dealers in Montreal, strung up by his wrists, and tortured--by being punched once in the tummy.
"Nothing To Lose": Mumbledy-mouth French kung-fu star Juliano Mer points to a punching bag and screams "This is me!"
"Nothing To Lose": A woman is raped by homosexuals in clown suits.
And the winner is . . .
"Gypsy Angels": Vanna White is driving cross-country when she sees an airplane, becomes disoriented by trying to drive and look at the airplane at the same time, runs off the road, rolls her car, and starts screaming "Get me outta here! It's gonna blow!" So the pilot lands the plane on the highway, runs over to the car, and pulls her out--right before it blows. They fall in love.
BEST DIALOGUE
The runners-up are . . .
Sarah Bellomo, "Bikini Drive-In": "How can you do this to me? I gave you the best three months of my life!"
Nicole Hansen, "American Cyborg": "You're a cyborg! You lied to me!"
Rodrigo Obregon, "Enemy Gold": "Jewell Panther! You are as beautiful as you are deadly!"
Robert Patrick, "Body Shot": "I came out here with a couple of friends--Jack Daniels and Jim Beam."
Deanna Perry, "Road Kill USA": "I was abducted by aliens once. At least I think I was. There was this weekend when I was about 18 years old that I don't remember nothing about."
Poster for "Teenage Catgirls in Heat": "When they rub against your leg, YOU cough up the hairball!"
Ashley Riley, "Midnight Tease": "God, I hate men. Maybe I'll become a lesbian. On second thought, I hate women, too."
Tom Schultz, "Eyes of the Serpent": "Well, well, well, a man
wearing a metal pig face."
Charlie Spradling, "Angel of Destruction": "The broken nose is for the girl. The vasectomy's free."
Julie Strain, "Enemy Gold": "And when we find them, we can hunt them down like small animals, and no one will be able to hear their cries of pain and despair."
And the winner is . . .
Julius Harris, "Shrunken Heads": "I will pluck out your tongues with bull cutters and roast them, and I will take your brains and chill them for the purposes of garnishment."
BEST BODY COUNT
"American Cyborg": 64.
BEST BREAST COUNT
"Midnight Tease": 126.
BEST DIRECTOR
The runners-up are . . .
David Marconi, "The Harvest."
David Tausik, "Haunted Symphony."
And the winner is . . .
Tony Elwood, "Road Kill USA."
BEST FLICK
And finally--isn't it awful how these awards run past midnight every year?--the runners-up are . . .
"Rescue Me," an action/adventure/comedy/teen nookie/road movie with a few crying scenes tossed in, about a geek yearbook photographer who sets out cross-country to rescue a kidnapped cheerleader.
"Road Kill USA," the story of a typical psychotic white-trash couple careening across the back highways of the South with a hapless good-ole-boy teenager in the back seat, trying to figure out why they keep driving all through the night and giggling about whoever they just carved up, clubbed to death, or crushed to death with a hydraulic lift.
And the winner is . . .
"The Harvest," story of a depressed out-of-work screenwriter who goes to Mexico to finish his script, gets knocked out by thugs who forcibly remove his left kidney, recuperates in the place where they filmed "Night of the Iguana," falls in love with a beautiful blonde nurse from Chicago, and takes her to his California wheat farm where he fights off an army of surgical killers.
Joe Bob, the last true supporter of the independent flick in America, urges to check em all out.
JOE BOB'S ADVICE TO THE HOPELESS
Hollywood Liberal Alert! The Beaverton Drive-In, on Merlo Road in Beaverton, Ore., was bought by Norman Lear's Act III Theaters a few years back, and it's only a matter of time before Lear bulldozes it, sells it, or sticks a cine-thirty-four-plex on this beautiful land. (He's got a real drive-in-hating track record.) Until he does, get by there and appreciate the four screens and the AM radio sound. But don't park on the side next to the Tri-Met Bus Depot--too much glare from the passing buses. Sam Graham of Des Moines, Ia., reminds us that, without eternal vigilance, it can happen here. To discuss the meaning of life with Joe Bob, or to get free junk in the mail and Joe Bob's world-famous newsletter, "The Joe Bob Report," write Joe Bob Briggs, P.O. Box 2002, Dallas, TX 75221. Joe Bob's Fax line is always open: 214-985-7448. Joe Bob even hangs out on CompuServe: 76702,1435.
Dear Joe Bob--
Re: your "El Sneaky Mexicanos" column. Hate to get serious here, but sometimes I wish you were writing as Irving Seldane or Arthur Advil, or under any name but Joe Bob Briggs. Because I'm sure too few readers give sufficient credence to what a guy named Joe Bob says. The wisdom of the words is cut off at the knees by the Texas redneck persona. And that's a shame.
I'm reminded of Lenny Bruce's old bit about how if Einstein had come from Georgia we'd never have built the bomb. Bruce said, imagine this hayseed coming in and saying, "Lemme tell y'all 'bout nooo-cleeer fishin." And all the physicists say, "Get outta here, ya schlub!"
So I can see the Mexican piece (which makes me suspect you're a closet libertarian) and all those other columns in which you slip a few insights on the human condition between the jokes getting the same amount of respect as Bruce's Einstein. They're funny, vernacular, cynical and sharp-witted, but how many people realize they make a helluva lot of good sense?
I mean, they make sense to me, but hell, I'm already converted.
Maybe I underestimate your readers. I hope so. But whatever name you use, don't stop making sense. Not enough of that around these days.
F. Paul Wilson
Brick Town, N.J.
Dear
Paul:
Anybody who's prejudiced against the
NAME is not really listening anyhow, right?
When you think about it, "Madonna" is one of the most ridiculous, self-important, phony names ever invented, and it doesn't really seem to have hurt her career, you know what I mean?
Dear Sir:
Have just discovered and read your "Cosmic Wisdom" and enjoyed it very much.
I was born in Jermyn (Jack County), Texas in 1916. My daddy, Dr. Leonard Winstead, named me Joe Bob. Why? I don't know, unless he just wanted to bequeath me the aggravation of trying all my life to convince people that it isn't Joseph Robert. The few people I have known named Joe Bob have all been characters. When I was young, I was one of the meanest little bastards that ever drew a breath. How I ever survived without someone shooting me is somewhat of a miracle.
Yours in sport,
Joe Bob Winstead
Pensacola, Fla.
Dear
Joe Bob:
Evidently ALL us Joe Bobs get shot at.
Who made up these rules anyway?
Dear Joe Bob,
You seem to know so much about women I'd like to ask your opinion regarding the possiblities of a 34-year-old guy hooking up with a good one. It seems out here in California the good ones are all getting alimony and/or child support. Where do I have to go to get one of those sweet ones like on "The Donna Reed Show," or am I just foolin' myself?
Sincerely,
Snake Williams
San Lorenzo, Calif.
Dear
Snake:
If you grab one JUST when they turn 18,
SOME of em still act like Donna Reed. By 21, they act like Madonna. And by 25,
sad to say, they act like Roseanne.
Mail-order one from the Philippines. It's a lot simpler.
Dear Mr. Briggs:
As for "the meaning of life," in thermodynamic terms I'm more comfortable with the idea that it's a PROGRESSION TO REGRESSION, that biological evolution is an inherently-limited energy-conversion process, and that human detrimental environmental impact is evidence of that inherent limit. As you'll note from the enclosure, my (abridged) paper on this subject won't be published in the most prominent scientific journal, so I'm in the process of looking for another publisher.
Sincerely,
Clint Williams
Oakland, Mich.
Dear
Clint:
As a person who has been regressing throughout all of my adult life, converting my energy into lower and lower biological forms, I would be happy to have my brain wired up for research, if you think it would help.
Dear Joe Bob,
I love Tang. I loved it as a kid and didn't understand why my dad wouldn't buy it. I drank it only on occasions that I visited friends' houses. The kind of kids I envied because they lived in the lap of luxury. They had wall-to-wall carpeting and the piece de resisistance: an ice maker on the OUTSIDE of their refrigerator. I was a deprived child. No Barbie, no Sit-n-Spin, no Rock-um Sock-um Robots, no Shrinky Dinks. I was told to read a book, go play outside and drink milk. When I left home I stocked my refrigerator with all the luxuries: Stove Top Stuffing, L'il Debbies, ice cream, and, of course, Tang. And you know what I learned in college? That stuff tastes like s---. And I finally learned that reading a book is better than watching TV. And fresh-squeezed organic OJ is better than Tang, and I hate wall-to-wall carpeting.
Your 2nd biggest fan,
Leigh Woodhead
Santa Cruz, Calif.
Dear
Leigh:
Wall-to-wall carpeting tastes bad, too?
© 1995 Joe Bob Briggs All Rights Reserved