"Joe Bob's Drive-In" for 6/19/95
cutline: Transvestite punk psycho Brad Friedman turns patriotic after getting his throat slit by a crazed Nam-vet janitor.
By Joe Bob Briggs
Drive-In Movie Critic of Grapevine, Texas
I used to think that all the Madison Avenue guys that make commercials were pretty dang clever. I remember all those movies starring Tony Curtis and Jack Lemmon where the advertising writer is REALLY more brilliant than his job demands, and SOMEDAY he'll write the Great American Novel. And some of em even DO write the Great American Novel.
But the current crop didn't seem to get past Remedial Comic Books 101 in college. Cause there have been some real STINKERS lately. Not just bad commercials. DUMB commercials. Commercials that look like they were put together by outer-space zombies.
The first commercial I noticed--from one of the biggest agencies--uses Janis Joplin's recording of "Lord, Won't You Buy Me a Mercedes Benz." While she sings the song, they roll out a Mercedes-Benz. A bright, shiny, brand spanking new one. In other words, the creators of the commercial think that Janis Joplin is ENCOURAGING PEOPLE TO BUY A MERCEDES.
Now people did a lot of drugs in the sixties, but NOBODY listened to that song and thought it was a call for all of us to become Yuppies. You could be stoned and on an eight-day LSD trip and you would STILL KNOW it was meant to be IRONIC. SARCASTIC. A JOKE. People who loved that song hated everything Mercedes stands for. But evidently there are recent graduates of the Wharton School of Finance who JUST DON'T GET IT.
Second example. There's a commercial for Doubletree hotels that uses Roy Orbison singing "Sweet Dreams, Baby," and as he sings, we see these peaceful shots of men, women and children falling gently asleep on the beds of Doubletree hotels. The only thing wrong with the image is that Roy wasn't REALLY wishing his baby would have sweet dreams, because as long as she has sweet dreams, she's NOT THINKIN OF HIM. Are we supposed to think that when Roy sings "How long must I dream?," he's singing to all these people who have dissed him, refused his love, been blind to his suffering? It's a BITTERSWEET song. It's heartachey. I know this. Rednecks in rural Georgia know this. How come the ad agency doesn't know this?
Finally, there's a commercial that shows a house in the middle of a winter storm. A voiceover announcer says, "Whoever said, 'Now is the winter of our discontent,' never stood behind Corning Fiberglas windows."
Message for the Rhodes scholar who thought this one up:
1) Shakespeare wrote it. Everybody who's taken freshman college English knows this.
2) Richard III said it. He was an evil hunchback king who WANTED IT TO BE WINTER. He was UPSET that things had become summery.
3) The reason this is not clear is that "Now is the winter of our discontent" is not the full sentence. It's not even a COMPLETE sentence. The complete sentence, the first two lines of the play, go, "Now is the winter of our discontent made glorious summer by this son of York." In other words, he's saying, "Things are GREAT around here, and I don't LIKE IT."
So the sentence is about SUMMER. It's not even ABOUT winter.
Who are these guys anyway?
Speaking of killer geeks, this week's flick is "Dead Boyz Cant Fly," the sensitive story of a mama-hating transvestite, a rapist who teaches yo-yo tricks to little boys, and a dimwit vaguely ethnic hood who team up to terrorize an office building on Memorial Day weekend by blasting their way through the offices of a lawyer, a doctor, a dentist, and--most hated of all--the guy who runs the EMPLOYMENT AGENCY. Somewhere along the way, the murdering transvestite gulps several quarts of pills, engages in a fight to the death with a Vietnam-vet-turned-janitor, gets his throat slit ear to ear, but FINISHES THE MOVIE.
This is one of those New York independent dealies that goes so far off the violence scale that Congressmen stand in line to blame it for the crime rate in the Bronx. There are Mafia hitmen who would throw up if they saw this movie. There's one scene where one of the punks poses as a doctor and "examines" Delia Sheppard that will make women wake up screaming thirty years from now. There's a disgusting scene in an elevator where Marilyn Monroe look-alike Ruth Collins gets molested at knifepoint that goes on and on and ON.
Of course, I loved it.
It satisfies the first rule of great drive-in moviemaking: Anyone can die at any moment.
And it satisfies the second rule: Jusat when you think you know who's gonna die next, you're WRONG.
Fifteen dead bodies. Eleven breasts. Mannequin bashing. Death by yo-yo. Non-elective tooth extraction. Dental drilling. The old head-in-the-filing-cabinet torture. Disinfectant in the eyes. Corpse mutilation. CPR with a frayed electrical cord. Bullet through the forehead. Do-it-yourself tourniquet. Throat-slicing. Hanging. Thirteen-story swan dive onto the pavement. Gratuitous topless dancing. Gratuitous hockey mask. Ambulance Fu. Drive-In Academy Award nominations for David John, as the Vietnam vet janitor-by-day, writer-by-night who says "The enemy is here, and he's one of ours"; Ruth Collins, as the bimbo who LAUGHS at the chief punk and doesn't live to tell about it; Jason Stein, as the most normal of the psychos, for saying "You spoiled my day, and now you ruined my evening, bitch!"; Brad Friedman, as the transvestite drughead ringleader who binds and gags his Mama and says "It's what you always wanted--a little girl!" and "I'm a sociopath, lady"; Daniel J. Johnson, as the dim-bulb thug who says "You killed him for nothing!"; and Howard Winters, the producer/director, for doing things the drive-in way.
Four stars.
Check it out.
If you've got the guts for this kind of thing, check out the UNRATED version.
JOE BOB'S ADVICE TO THE HOPELESS
Victory Over Nature's Fury! The Los Altos Drive-In, on Bellflower Boulevard just off the 405 Freeway in Lakewood, Calif., patched up its minor earthquake damage and is drawing them like flies to its three giant screens. Sam Graham of Des Moines, Ia., reminds 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 newsletter, "The Joe Bob Report," write Joe Bob Briggs, P.O. Box 2002, Dallas, TX 75221, or Fax him at 214-985-7448, or e-mail him at CompuServe: 76702,1435.
Dear Joe Bob:
I really like your columns, especially the satire; however, it's apparent from some of the letters you receive that some people don't know what satire is. Could you please tell us your definition of satire?
Sincerely,
David Bruce
Athens, O.
Dear
David:
Satire is the moral equivalent of a stinkbomb in a crowded theater.
Dear Joe Bob,
You mentioned a Jay Leno movie called "Collision Course" and implied it was his first film. Actually, Jay was in a movie that I believe was made in the late seventies (judging by the width of his lapels and tie, and the length of his sideburns and hair). The plot had something to do with boxing, and may have involved a boxing animal of some sort. It's pretty terrible.
People who live in apartment buildings and subscribe to a satellite-based cable system might be interested in knowing the following. When I was in this situation, I had your basic hook-up: the main cable ran into the cable box, a second cable then ran from the box into my VCR, and a third cable ran from my VCR to my TV. One evening, I was going to tape off a premium channel and a regular over-the-air channel, and was checking to make sure both signals came through. With the cable box set on the premium channel, I switched the VCR channel from 3, which had allowed me to pick up the premium feed, to the regular channel, which was 2. Instead of receiving that station's feed, I received a second premium channel that I wasn't supposed to receive. Surfing through the cable channels with the VCR channel remaining on 2, I picked up a second premium channel which I was not supposed to receive. Let me stress that I never altered the cable box, my VCR or my TV in order to "catch" these signals. Of course, I never took advantage of this discovery because these cable operations deserve all of their hard-earned money. But someone could if they wanted to.
Tony Buckley
Washington, D.C.
Dear
Tony:
I'm just like you. When I get free cable, I only steal the stuff that nobody should have to pay for anyway. If I happen to see something good, BY ACCIDENT, then I immediately write a check for 50 cents and mail it in.
Hey Joe Bob:
Well, I can't say we didn't have fun on this Labor Day holiday. Then again maybe I COULD say that. They showed a couple of good movies in the auditorium, but knowing you're surrounded--in the dark--by about 400 of America's most "unwanted," the movies seem to lose their appeal.
Oh, well, it could be worse. I could be in Fort Worth.
They were going to show drive-in-type movies on our 40-foot-high north wall, but the matinee performance was a washout--and we're not allowed out after dark. They DO know where we are at 10 o'clock.
Mel Buckley
U.S. Penitentiary
Leavenworth, Kan.
Dear
Mel:
I don't guess they ever show "Cool Hand Luke" there, do they?
Dear Joe Bob,
As medical students in the Caribbean, one of the best ways to keep in touch with the American movie and culture scene is to have your column mailed to us every week. Having enjoyed your article on Madonna's "Sex" book we passed it around to our colleagues.
Recently we asked two former Manhattan residents what they thought of the column. To which they replied (in unison): "it was mildly amusing, but the author seems like a pompous ass." Some people just don't get it, do they?
We were wondering if you would have anything to say in their defense before we feed them to the sharks.
Thanks,
Martin A. Duelus
Anna Boettcher
St. Vincent, Grenadines, West Indies
Dear
Martin and Anna:
"Mildly amusing" to a
Manhattan resident is a standing ovation anywhere else.
"Pompous ass" from the World Capital of Rectal Pomposity is like winning the Nobel Prize.
Dear Joe Bob,
With the success of the Dallas Cowboys this year, much has been written about the team. One article mentioned in passing a movie called "Horror High" (1974) which featured several (then) players as policemen. I found a review of it in Leonard Maltin's video guide (it is now known as Twisted Brain), and he called it "low-budget crud with unbelievably amateurish acting."
Sounds like your kind of movie! Have you seen it? How would you rate it? Bottom line: Should I waste my time watching a couple of former Cowboy players? Please advise.
Sincerely,
Marian Broussard
Dallas
Dear
Marian:
"Twisted Brain" is one of the all-time cult classics, the story of a high school nerd who invents a "dip" that allows him to kill all the people who have tormented him, including the P.E. coach, who gets football-cleated to death. And the movie not only features Dallas Cowboys, but Pittsburgh Steelers as well.
© 1995 Joe Bob Briggs All Rights Reserved