One woman's quest to share the beauty and learn valuable lessons in horror films, from the truly terrifying to the totally terrible (and of course, everything in between involving killer dolls)
10. You’re intrigued by the eerie love story in South Korean auteur Kim Ki-Duk’s celebrated (if frustrating to me) drama, 3-Iron. So intrigued in fact that you'll hear three opinionated women argue some of its merits and missteps.
9. You’re itching for a tangent where film-loving folks discuss their hatred of misused soundtracks in modern horror.
8. We somehow find a way to imagine a world where both Adventures In Babysitting and Don’t Tell Mom the Babysitter’s Dead contained special edition DVD releases that include the only recently discovered deleted rape scenes.
7. We giggle like junkies at the dentist’s office over the wondrous design of the shirtless martial arts practicing, stripper face-cutting villain in Abel Ferrara’s 1984 classic sleazefest, Fear City, a film that includes Melanie Griffith’s breasts and Lando Calrissian uttering the words “Keep the pussy off the counter.”
6. Amber Heard (baggy Daisy Dukes included) in Drive Angry: hot or not? We give the verdict.
5. You can hear my impassioned explanation of how Attack the Block kicks the overlong bell bottom wearing ass of Super 8.
4. I do a grand impression of Tom Berenger’s slow motion battle cry in a boxing ring.
3. No bra talk this week (yes, it probably has something to do with the rapture) but there's plenty of discussion about boobs (including Melanie Griffith's).
2. It’s free.
1. Joplin (my cat) speaks! I mean that in two ways: her cat voice (a high-pitched squeak of a meow) and her ACTUAL voice that I imagine she would have were she human, i.e., that of a chatty Long Island diner waitress.
(And yes, I'm aware that she's recently been turned into a Sentinel)
Why are you looking at me so funny? Don’t your cats have regional accents?
ANYWAY, head to http://girlsonfilm.podomatic.com or iTunes for Episode 27. It's epic. It's estrogen. It's fine film conversation with international appeal.
Just please, for the love and betterment of Cloud City, keep that pussy off the counter.
Amongst the many, many many, many reasons I love my parents is this:
Maximum Overdrive came out in 1986, when the Mets were Mookie Wilsoning their way to the World Series Championship and I was a happy 4 year old...who saw Maximum Overdrive in the theater.
Stephen King was famously on more coke than a Christmas loving polar bear when he wrote, directed, and provided his best cameo yet in what can pretty safely be described as a truckwreck of a film. With a ridiculous premise made even more ridiculous by the deux ex machina explanation of planetary orbit, Maximum Overdrive boasts some of the gooeyist melted American cheese to emerge from the ‘80s. It’s a gooey cheeseburger of a movie served with the greasiest fries you’ve ever eaten, and by golly sugar buns, I love every minute of it.
Quick Plot: You know the story. On a bright summer day in North Carolina, all the world’s machinary pulls a small-scale SKYNET and becomes hostile. Hairdryers strangle. Electric knives stab. Arcade games electrocute and even the sweet little ice cream truck drives with menace. A varied band of plucky survivors (led by the rebellious Emilio Estevez in his Brat Pack prime) hides out in the Dixie Boy Truck Stop as they formulate a plan to make it alive in a world free of batteries and gasoline.
Obviously, it’s a silly plot, and one that was probably irresistible to the man responsible for killer washing machines, sociopathic classic cars, and evil religion-spreading corn. Stephen King is a vital piece in the history of modern horror, but when undisciplined, his work can be embarrassing. Maximum Overdrive was his first (and sadly, thus far only) directoral effort, and just about any word out of his mouth in the last 20+ years has been sprinkled with his own admission that it’s terrible.
It’s a charming humility, but let’s face it: Maximum Overdrive is also an absolute blast. A few reasons why:
9:48...79 degrees...Fuck...You
Can you think of a better way to open a film than with a neon sign cursing you out? I suppose following said intro with Stephen King being dubbed an asshole by an ATM machine comes pretty close.
CHONK CHONK CHONK CHONK!
Every villain needs his theme song, and Maximum Overdrive cranks it up right with a ridiculously over the top and aggressive sound cue that can only be described as Jaws eating popcorn on speed and helium. The fact that King randomly assigns this music to particular attacks (the aforementioned electric knife, the no-name dude’s payback for stealing a ring from the dead) somehow makes it all the more entertaining as it only occasionally reminds us just how goofy a thing we’re watching.
Who Made Who? WE MADE YOU!
Speaking of soundtrack, let’s give a fingerless gloved round of applause to AC/DC, the one and only band responsible for Maximum Overdrive’s peppy pseudo badass beats. Their songs firmly ground the film in the fertile ground of the ‘80s, especially when its official anthem--Who Made Who?--is spoken, a la Britney Spears in Crossroads, by one of the film’s most beloved characters, Wanda the truck stop waitress who’s so dedicated to her profession that she keeps her blue eyeshadow fresh and pink hairbow high a full day after the world’s machines have tried to kill her (they eventually do).
Death. By. Soda. Can. DEATHBYSODACAN!
Easily one of my favorites in the extremely long list of best death scenes ever, the soda can machine killing is a glory to behold. Watch ! as the happy go lucky baseball coach saunters over to treat his winning team to a few Pepsis, only to be goofily puckered in the groin by a powerful surge of cans. Hear ! his teenagers giggle, because who doesn’t giggle when the only adult in eyeshot just got his groin hit by a soda can? See ! the machine wage a full-blown war on every player in sight, shooting its ammo as they flee like soldiers on the Western Front, most pegged down with one hit to their backside. At that point, the sight of a steamroller rolling its way over a 14 year old boy is just whipped cream on an already very delicious root beer float.
Often a sign of a director-in-training, an overabundance of slow motion generally comes off as ineffective but hilarious. Maximum Overdrive is no different. The opening drawbridge-gone-psycho scene uses it wonderfully, as an ill-fated biker slides off into the water, complete with his own Tarzan-like cry of peril. You’d think that would be enough, but King seems to find the tool quite versatile, later employing it to build totally unneeded excitement at the conclusion of the even more ill-fated baseball team’s winning slide into home.
Death By Watermelon
It happens, and it happens within the film’s first five minutes. Sheesh Death Bed: The Bed That Eats, it took one scene for you to officially be dethroned.
Happy Toyz, Where Art Thou?
Certainly not in business, because what kid in his right mind would be charmed by any company whose mascot was a grinning gargoyle-like clown? The star truck of Maximum Overdrive is indeed a gleeful villain, so long as we look past the whole idea of, you know, a terrifyingly kid-unfriendly kid company even existing. Then again. Ronald McDonald has been pied pipering his way through the entire planet’s children for almost 50 years, so maybe I underestimate youth.
Random Product Placement
A sparking Miller Lite sign. Evil BIC pens truck. Adorable AC/DC themed Volkswagon bus. Heck, I almost want this film remade just to see how Apple Computers worms its worm-in-an-apple way into getting a positive spin in a film about evil technology.
When In Doubt, Shoot A Bunch of Dudes
Maximum Overdrive CERTAINLY has its flaws, among them, the fact that it’s pretty gosh darn hard to keep track of its characters. Sure, our eyes are always on the heroic(ally hunky) Billy, his quick-to-bed hitchhiker lady pal Brett, the villainous Pat Hingle, Lisa Simpson & her new husband, the kid, and black guy, but there are anywhere between two and seven other background survivors who seem to be hanging out in the truck stop that never come close to registering as being important. They’re all male, country-looking, and bland, so it’s only fitting that at about 2/3rds through the film, the cute little machine-gun driven vehicle kills them all with one swoop of its bullet fire.
(don't even bother learning the names of the white dudes in the rear)
Someone Got a Different Memo
Holter Graham’s Deke has a little more to care about than the rest of the Dixie Boy’s patrons. Within 24 hours, the kid has seen his baseball coach brutally die and learned that his father’s guts are still fresh on the pavement. I suppose that explains how much more seriously he seems to take his role in Maximum Overdrive, with an intense grimace on his young face all the way to his slaughter of a frisky Drive-Thru burger sign. When he passes his rifle to Brett, Graham’s delivery of “I don’t want this anymore” has more weight than an elephant telling a whale that it had an abortion. Or something.
It's just realllllllllllllly serious. And therefore hilarious.
Eat My Shorts
....gets said in this movie, cementing its status as Great Cinema of our time.
Why Mourn When You Can Eat Bacon?
We’re not really expected to take any of the deaths too seriously in Maximum Overdrive, so perhaps it’s only fitting that the characters don’t either. After Deke’s caring father gets run over, Billy and Brett are quick to flirt their way under the covers, while Wanda’s widowed husband doesn’t seem to have too much trouble moving on and joking his way through pumping gas. When your film is just over 100 minutes, you really shouldn’t waste any time with the mushy stuff, right?
The Comet. Oh Yeah, the Comet
When most of us think back to Maximum Overdrive, the things that gleefully ride into our minds are listed above. But remember, dear readers, just WHY the toy cars and lawnmowers and gas pumps and pinball machines are trying to bring about the end of the human race:
“On June 19th, 1987, at 9:47 A.M. EST, the Earth passed into the extraordinarily diffuse tail of Rhea-M, a rogue comet. According to astronomical calculations, the planet would remain in the tail of the comet for the next eight days, five hours, twenty-nine minutes, and twenty-three seconds.”
So, as the selectively loose Brett mentions later in the film, an evil comet is telling technology to turn on its makers. Makes perfect sense, no?
Let’s examine the closing coda text, of which I’ll declare, is easily the greatest closing coda since the adorably unspellchecked two-typo boasting conclusion of Burial Ground: Nights of Terror.
“Two days after, a large UFO was destroyed in space by a Russian 'weather satellite,' which happened to be equipped with a laser cannon and class IV nuclear missiles.
Approximately six days later, the earth passed beyond the tail of Rhea-M, exactly as predicted.”
Okay. So, the comet was just a red herring in a film that CLEARLY was dying for some external plot twists that have no effect whatsoever on the action we’re watching. And in the end, the Russians save the day with laser canons. And Stephen King is EMBARRASSED by this?
The Winning Line
“Curtis!........... Are you dead?”
I cannot tell you how many times these words were quoted in the Intravia household when I was growing up. The fact that Yeardley Smith would later go on to cement her voice in cultural history as the one and only Lisa Simpson makes this all the more grand.
Lessons Learned
Even Stephen King can’t resist a fat man farting joke
Mack Trucks are especially annoyed by screechy waitresses accusing them of insolence
Morse Code: Learn It. Love it. Live It.
Rent/Marry/Buy/Worship
I will not say that Maximum Overdrive is a good film, but trust me sugar buns, it’s a joy. The film is sadly unavailable from Netflix and currently has nothing more than a bare bones DVD release, but if you can find it at a decent price, it still makes for a glorious daily backdrop to your life. I’m praying to the fairy godparents of Blu Ray that one day, we can all live in a world where Stephen King sits down with a six pack of O’Douls and gives us a long-awaited commentary track, where Emilio Estevez returns for a making-of documentary, and those mythical 12 seconds of gruesome cutting room floor footage resurface, all packaged in a tacky tin case with a glow-in-the-dark Happy Toyz Goblin poking out of your movie library.
If you’re like me this summer, the word 'vacation' has no meaning. Isn't that awesome? Think of all the stab-happy hillbillies you won't have to flee, the cell phone signals in your office so strong they'll leave bruises, and the now unnecessary adorable but sickle-wielding Amish kids who hate you because corn told them they should.
That’s right, think positive. We're not talking about all the pina coladas we're not drinking, the fanny packs not usefully serving as storage and belly fat coverup or the license plate keychains we don’t even get to search through for our names. If you mention such glories of vacation, I'll have my cell phone signal punch you in the face.
So to combat the utter sluggishness of, you know, not going anywhere, let's GO somewhere! Virtually! It's like a futuristic road trip without the leg cramps and motion sickness.
First, break out that gold chain and spray tan for The Blood Sprayer's Italian Invasion! The always busy horror site is busting with special posts on giallo, Bava, cannibalism, and more. It's way better than Domino's pizza, unless you're drunk and Domino's pizza is then way better than just about anything in the world that ever existed ever. If you need a starting point, head yonder here for my own review of my frenemy Dario Argento's 1987 pseudo-Phantom adaption, Opera.
Yup, this happens.
My, that was exotic! International even! We need to balance this virtualation with some good old fashioned American moviedom, namely, a bunch of indie flicks over at Rogue Cinema.This month, I reviewed the found footage horror Evil Things and the unique mystery Dogs Lie. There's plenty more in the August Issue, including an interview with Tim "Doll Man" (or more excitingly to me, Gangland) Thomerson.
He's the one that reallllllly wants to get to Arizona.
Wasn’t that fun? And look, there was no humorless fondling by TSA agents or socially awkward hitchhikers to make us feel uncomfortable with the stat of Texas. Heck, nobody even broke into our house when we were gone to steal our famous jewels and then get stuck inside an evil death trap orchestrated by our no-good exterminator!
Maybe vacations aren’t all they’re cracked up to be.
Based on fleeting memories of watching Class of 1984 at a far-too-young age, I had no actual anticipation of writing about it here.
A pile of punky corpses later--one of which belonged to my favorite teenage Antichrist of all time from a little Doll’s House classic known as Fear No Evil--and I realized I’d be missing out on one supreme slasher.
Quick Plot: Meet Mr. Norris, an optimistic high school band conductor making his debut at Lincoln High, the kind of institution where metal detectors are just a formality and the teachers are expected to maybe have a certificate and college education but to definitely have a black belt or revolver.
On his very first day, Norris manages to make enemies of Peter Stegman, the baby-faced underachiever who spends schoolnights running prostitution and drug rings despite his natural intelligence and piano skills.
Because Norris is kind of a dolt, the enemyship escalates with every passing weekday, leading to a few of the following:
Biology teacher pal Roddy McDowell’s class pets slaughtered
Norris’ car blown graffitied and, well, exploded
Teacher’s pet Michael Pre-J. Fox stabbed in the gut
Norris is falsely accused of beating a teenager up
Michael Pre-J. Fox’s pal climbs up a flagpole in a drugged out mania and falls to his pledge of allegiancing death
And his even dafter pregnant wife gets gang raped
These are terrible things to have happen to you, but am I a bad person for having to say the dude *kind of* asked for it? Questioning wimpy student Fox in front of the stab-happy gang? Hauling the drug dealers into the principal’s office without any real solid footing for how to punish them? Smashing the bully’s car? Abandoning his loyal band students at their biggest hour?
If I had one problem with Class of 1984, it’s that it was awfully hard to get behind the protagonist when he came off as the biggest idiot this side of the border. Or that side, since it’s fairly clear that Class of 1984 was proudly made on Canadian soil. It’s a minor issue...
In a pretty damn kickass film. Director Mark Lester (working form a script with his, Child’s Play's Tom Holland and actor John Saxon’s screenwriting credits on it) clearly went into filming with a deep passion for his story, as well as a solid and timely hold on the the-emerging punk culture. Everybody onscreen--from lead Perry King to all-star McDowell and all the young thespians reveling in their prime--brings a grand and all-out energy to their roles, making just about every major and minor character believable, interesting, and often both. The actual themes of bureaucratic hand tying and undisciplined youths are a tad heavyhanded but heartfelt enough to hold up strong. It’s a daring and creative film, even when crafting careful homages to A Clockwork Orange.
Oh, and the last 15 minutes are about as gory and violent as Fear No Evil, minus the bully boobs and dodgeball deaths. See Low Points.
High Points
As the baby-faced sociopath building a mob-like empire in high school, Timothy Van Patten’s Stegman is a truly unique and layered villain, part genius, part low-life, part mama’s boy and all fascinating charisma
Goodness can Roddy McDowell elevate material! His most infamous scene waving a gun in front of his laxer students’ faces is easily the heart and high note of Class of 1984, lending a deep, sad, and disturbing weight to what could have been a mere exploitation film
The film apparently won a British Oscar for its costume design, which might surprise you until you really look at some of the styling going on in Stegman’s gang
Low Points
It’s probably more a testament to the many other youth-gone-wild films that have made some common sense seem more possible, but it truly is occasionally straining to accept Norris’ naiveté, particularly on the third ‘why don’t you go stay with your mother?’ plea made to his even airheadier wife
No death by dodgeball or bully boobs.Though credit to this guy for trying:
Lessons Learned
It was incredibly easy to blow up automobiles in the 1980s
Shimmying up a flagpole is easier than you think, at least if you have a sniff of cocaine helping you out
The human heart has four chambers and if you don’t know that, Roddy McDowell will blow your face off
Child labor laws have evolved much over the last 20 years, particularly that whole amendment about not allowing 14 year olds to stab classmates on orders from their place of employment
Rent/Bury/Buy
I was impressed at how much I enjoyed Class of 1984. It’s gritty and dark, but also incredibly watchable and occasionally quite humorous. Though it’s true that I’ll probably watch this far less than Mark Lester’s lighter, more ridiculous(ly amazing) semi-sequel Class of 1999, it’s still a high recommend for a rental or purchase, particularly since Anchor Bay’s release is loaded with extras. A making-of featurette includes interviews with cast and crew while the director and Anchor Bay producer commentary track is both informative and intersting, demonstrating most importantly that Class of 1984 was a film that everyone fully invested their energy into making. We don’t get enough of those.
Calling all karate dogs, ghost cats, and baseball playing chimpanzees! A full month of joyously terrible animal-themed movies, complete with endless fart jokes and puns!
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