Joe Bob's Drive In Review
by Joe Bob Briggs
July 20, 1997
"Bloodletting"
Am I crazy, or is everyone still treating Tiger Woods like he's
a black man?
Hasn't the guy made a speech three or four times, pointing out that he's
"Aflocasian," or whatever name he has for it? That he's basically part Caucasian, part Asian, and part African? What could be more perfect for an American hero? He's a man with NO RACE AT ALL?
But every week that he plays golf, we see the Jesse Jacksons of the world trying to make him into a Bro. We hear talk about his being a role model for young black children, and we even have high school
principals in predominantly black inner-city schools setting up GOLF programs, as though that's the answer to everything going all crummy on us.
What a way to encourage achievement-by setting up another pipe dream! We've already got kids who fail to see the astronomical odds
of getting to the NBA. But the odds of getting to the NBA are LOW compared to the odds of making it on the PGA tour.
What is this about really? We might as well call the guy an "octoroon." That's the name we once used for any person who had at
least one-eighth black blood. That made them legally a Negro, and DEPRIVED them of rights. Now it seems like a lot of black leaders wanna bring back the octoroon-let's see, the guy has a LITTLE black blood, so let's CLAIM HIM-so that they can use it for some God-knows-what political purpose.
Tiger Woods seems totally content with who he is. He's right smack dab in the middle of the American melting pot. He's melted. He's acclimated. He's no race at all. He's 100 percent
pure-dee American. He's so American he's accepted at the country club. Why don't we just leave him alone to enjoy his Cobb salad, and let the rest of the troubled souls out there fight this increasingly boring race war.
Nobody CARES anymore, OK?
Do I have to point EVERYTHING out around this country?
And speaking of temporary insanity, "Bloodletting" came out this week, and it's the first serial-killer love story, starring James L. Edwards and Ariauna Albright as two blood-crazed sociopaths who
discover that brutal killing is twice as fun when you do it as a couple. Of course, you still have to work out all those usual kinks in a relationship, like who has to bag the party girl, chain saw her into itty bitty pieces, and mail her to weird post offices
around the country.
And when you have a REAL lovers spat, just forget it. When these
two stalk out of the house to find a better party, they end up coming back with more than stale beer on their shirts, if you know what I mean and I think you do.
Come to think of it, this is the old "Eating Raoul" story, only instead of selling the corpses to a dog-food factory, these two
butcher-knife-loving zanies are just in it for the pure-dee RUSH of the whole thing.
Unfortunately, the whole thing comes off kinda talky and amateurish. Not quite sure whether he's making a comedy or a
gorefest, writer/producer/director Matthew Jason Walsh goes for something straight down the middle and ends up with a "Who will
they kill next?" plot that doesn't always hold your attention.
But when he decides to paint the walls red, he does it like nobody since Herschell Gordon Lewis in "2000 Maniacs." In fact, he has one particularly grisly murder that will have guys squirming like nothing I've seen since the bathtub scene in "I Spit On Your Grave." We're talking some serious male nightmares after this baby.
(That's all I'm saying.)
Not a home run, but videos like this are what prove we have a First Amendment. You watch some of these scenes and you just wanna
upchuck all over your Buster Browns. Obviously, my kina movie.
Thirty-four dead bodies. No breasts. (Shame on you, Ariana.)
Ninety-two gallons blood. Rib-cage splitting. Improper but repeated stomach-stabbing.
Heart-stabbing. Rock to the head. Aardvarking, with knife at the throat.
"This Little Piggy" with meat cleaver.
Dumbbell body-bashing. No. 2 pencil to the throat. Table head-bashing. Knife through the hand. Face carving. Gratuitous LSD trip. Fingers roll. Hand rolls. Whangdoodle rolls.
Drive-In Academy Award nominations for...
James L. Edwards, as the guy-next-door serial killer who
says "Evil people have incredible sex."
Nina Angeloff, as the drunk redneck party girl who's invited down into the basement for a little hanky panky, for saying, "I saw this on Springer the other day!"
Ariauna Albright, as the earnest student of serial killing, who says, "This is not about killing people anymore, Butch-this is about us!"
Sasha Graham, as the coke-sniffing Ouija-board-loving neo-hippie who likes to rap about death.
Scooter McCrae, as the terminal stoner with long stringy hair who talks about turning gay so he can have a sex life, then finds out that guys don't like him either.
And Matthew Jason Walsh, the writer/director/producer,
for doing things the drive-in way.
Three stars.
Joe Bob says check it out.
© 1997 Joe Bob Briggs All Rights Reserved