Joe Bob's Drive In Review
by Joe Bob Briggs
August 24, 1997
"Shadow of a Scream"
What exactly happens in the brain of the 55-year-old
business executive that causes him to suddenly, with no warning, start trying to kiss all the 20-year-old college interns? Or grab the secretary he's been working with for 10 years, pin her against the wall, and plant a big ole sloppy wet one on her?
I know it's some kinda brain failure, because it's not like he sends
flowers first, or says something like, "I sure would like to KISS you, honey." He just goes straight for the groceries, like a hungry cheetah that's just been waked up after a three-day nap. One day he's telling bad jokes by the water cooler. The next day he's the Mad Gropemeister, grabbing bra straps like a demented 12-year-old.
I hear these stories all the time. They always start out, "I'm having this problem with my boss"-and then the gal breaks down in tears. These are not the ones that become sexual harassment lawsuits and get into the papers. These are the ones where the gal says, "I've gotta deal with this without EMBARRASSING him."
They're always worried about EMBARRASSING the guy. So they
decide EXACTLY what they're gonna say to him, go into his office nervously, sit down and say something like, "Mr. Klawson, I was really upset by what happened the other day." And Mr. Klawson acts like he's SURPRISED, and then-nine times out of 10-TRIES ANOTHER GROPE WHILE SHE'S STILL IN HIS OFFICE!
This is the part I don't get. He's a business exec, right? He knows he's already on the hook for a lawsuit. He's got the little chippie
shaking like an autumn leaf in the big leather chair. She's basically told him, "I really didn't like that." And he's thinking, "Maybe we could make passionate love on the carpet."
It's the whole Bob Packwood thing. We've got all these Serial
Packwoods running around, carrying on the same way he's been accused of behaving. I don't know whether they've ALWAYS been out there, or if there's something about America in the year 1997 that makes ordinary guys suddenly Go Packwood. Because these are guys with money. They have all the American dream stuff-wife, kids, house, car. They have enough money to hire hookers or mistresses. But they've got this mutant gene flaring up in some rear brain lobe and whispering stuff like, "When Sylvia uses the Xerox machine, she always wears a sexy skirt JUST FOR YOU, Bob!"
I don't get it. I really don't. Help me out, guys. If you're a Serial Packwood, and you're reading this, send me a letter
explaining just exactly what's going on, cause we should talk.
There are EASIER things to do, guys.
And speaking of twisted sex freaks, "Shadow of a Scream" comes out this week, proving that if you make the same story enough times, somebody will finally do an outstanding job of it. The
female-cop-who-goes-undercover-to-trap-a-serial-killer plot has been done by every low-budget B-movie company in the business for about 10 years now-and, of course, I've reviewed every single one of them in the name of cinematic science-but this latest one, directed by Howard McCain for legendary exploitation producer Roger Corman, now becomes the standard for the genre.
Athena Massey is the beautiful Boston cop who gets into the mind of murder suspect David Chokachi, writing him love letters, meeting with him, and eventually-UH OH!-believing he's innocent and that his sexual death fantasies are NOT THAT BAD. Cyril O'Reilly, who will always be remembered in B movie history for his performance in "Dance of the Vampires," plays Athena's increasingly jealous boyfriend, a fellow cop who ALSO likes a little cayenne pepper in the bedroom, if you know what I mean and I think Marv Albert does. Add in a great performance by Timothy Busfield as the serial-killer sex-crime expert who's almost CREEPIER than the guys he studies, and you've got one of the best flicks since Roger went over to Ireland, made a chummy deal with the Irish government, and started churning these babies out of a Gaelic film studio. (I'm not kidding.)
The acting in this puppy is perfect-especially Athena Massey, who looks like she's on the verge of sexual ecstasy in almost every single scene of the flick. And David Chokachi as the kinky dog-loving loner and chief murder suspect is 100 percent pure dee believable. I only mention this, because most geekazoid sex freaks in these movies are totally NOT believable.
Three dead bodies. One dead dog. Fifteen breasts. Multiple
aardvarking, with kink.
Nine gallons blood. B&D. S&M. LMNOP. Three beatings. One Molotov cocktail. Apartment-wrecking. Throat-slashing.
Gratuitous running-nekkid-through-the-park montage sequence.
Drive-In Academy Award nominations for...
David Chokachi, as the weirdo with the bondage magazines, for saying, "What I write to women is nobody's business but mine."
Athena Massey, as the cop who learns to love the edge, for saying, "Baby, you were a little too rough back there at one point" and, "You expect me to seduce a serial killer?" and, "Maybe he's just some weirdo who's looking for somebody to love him!"
Timothy Busfield, as the stop-at-nothing serial-killer expert, who says, "We're after an animal, Alice, a monstrous animal."
And Howard McCain, the director, for doing things the
drive-in way.
Four stars.
Joe Bob says check it out.
© 1997 Joe Bob Briggs All Rights Reserved