Director Report Card: Adrian Lyne (1986)

3. Nine ½ Weeks

Following the surprise success of “Flashdance,” I imagine Adrian Lyne had his pick of projects. I know he was offered “Starman” around this time and many other films, I bet. What he chose for his next movie was “Nine ½ Weeks.” The source material, an autobiographical novel by Ingeborg Day, was a rough and unflinching depiction of a sadomasochistic relationship that quickly became abusive. Lyne would transform this into a movie that would largely change the direction of his career. With one exception, every film Lyne made after this point concerned itself with sex and relationships, frequently veering in the direction of erotica. The question to ask is if this was a positive change or not.

The film follows Elizabeth, a recently divorced woman who works at an art gallery in SoHo, Manhattan. Through a chance encounter at a marketplace, she meets rich Wall Street broker John Gray. She immediately feels attracted to him. Soon, she agrees to go out on a date with him. Their first date concludes with him blindfolding her and teasing her with an ice cube. He plies her with expensive gifts while his sexual fantasies become more extreme and controlling. Elizabeth finds herself increasingly obsessed and disturbed with the demands John asks of her.

After watching “9½ Weeks,” I wasn't surprised to learn that it was based on a fact-based memoir. The movie is almost plotless. There's very little drive to the story. The narrative is largely shapeless. The pacing listlessly marches from one episode to the next. Just like real life, I suppose. What makes up most of '9½ Weeks” are John and Elizabeth's antics in the bedroom. It's a film largely devoted to their sexual adventures. To the point that, whenever the movie goes outside their lovemaking, you can feel the filmmaker's interest waning. It's hard to imagine these characters lives existing outside of their sexual misadventures.

Making a movie all about sex is fine. It is, after all, one of the most common human experiences. However, “9½ Weeks” doesn't seem very interested in exploring the mechanics of desire. What exactly draws Elizabeth to John is never stated. He mysteriously floats into her life and she is drawn to him, for fuzzily described reasons. What the two have in common or why they are attracted to one another is left vague. Occasionally, it seems like “9½ Weeks” may probe darker themes about the limits of desire. John's demands sometimes frighten Elizabeth. Such as when he calls her and accuses her of snooping in his apartment. Or when he almost whips her with a belt, when she refuses to crawl across the floor to him. Other times, however, she goes right along with his games without a problem. This back and forth is never explored, Elizabeth's interior thoughts and own sexual desires largely remaining a mystery.

Mostly, “9½ Weeks” is a prototypical example of the “erotic thriller” genre. Like many of the films that would haunt late night Cinemax in the nineties and 2000s, to the delight of insomniac masturbaters everywhere, the film is preoccupied with elaborate fuckery. John and Elizabeth tease, play, and couple in increasingly unlikely ways. The infamous (and, admittedly, relatively effective) ice cube sequence is a precursor to a later scene, where John hand-feeds Elizabeth various foodstuffs. Dripping milk, spurting Perrier, and goopy honey stand in for more pornographic fluids. Soon, the two are banging on tables and in clock towers, bouncily and enthusiastically. This peaks during a frankly ridiculous love scene in a rain-choked alleyway, where the two cycle through a dozen positions in the cramped area. That seems more awkward and uncomfortable than erotic.

As in “Flashdance,” “9½ Weeks” shows Adrian Lynn struggling to balance his two tendencies as a director. The film continues the director's fascination with American cities. After focusing on Californian suburbs in “Foxes” and Pittsburgh in “Flashdance,” Lynn looks at Manhattan here. Some of the film's best scenes has Lynn's turning his camera on the crowded streets of SoHo. Elizabeth looks at doodads at a street market. She watches a Reggae band with John. Later, the two goof around in the streets, tossing a hat into the wind. These scenes, due to Lyne's naturalistic direction, end up feeling more intimate than most of the movie's love scenes.

However, these more realistic moments are shoved between ridiculously over-directed sequences.  One laughably overwrought moment involves Elizabeth masturbating while clicking through a slideshow of various paintings. A mildly clever idea – the shutter speed increasing as she reaches climax – is pushed into laughable territory by the use of rough zooms and harsh editing. That odd choice crops up a few other times as well, near the end. But no moment in “9 ½ Weeks” is more over-directed than the striptease Elizabeth performs for John, set to “You Can Leave Your Hat.” The scene goes on for far too long, as Kim Basinger or her body double contorts in front of mood lighting, the camera randomly cutting away to a laughing Mickey Rourke.

These overblown moments of attempted eroticism dominate the film. They nearly push out the more interesting moments. A completely unresolved subplot involves a painter client of Elizabeth, an elderly and eccentric artist that appears to be developing dementia. There's a oddly still and moody scene of Basinger visiting the man at his home. Another effective moment is when Gray has Elizabeth dress up as a man. This gender-bending scene escalates into the two getting into a fight with some tough guys. It's probably the most thrilling scene in the film, one of the few times when there actually appears to be some stakes to the plot.

If “9 ½ Weeks” has anything really going for it, it's two solid lead performances. This is Kim Basinger's first lead in a theatrically released movie. Lyne supposedly used manipulative tactics to get a stronger performance out of Basinger, isolating her from her co-stars and deliberately alienating her. Whether or not you agree with that approach, it seemed to have worked. Basinger does well in “9 ½ Weeks.” Even if the script refuses to expounds on Elizabeth's feelings, Basinger shows the struggle and internal conflict on her face. Her body language conveys the mixture of humiliation and excitement she feels. Basinger agreed with this assessment, saying this was the first time she really felt like an actor.

“9 ½ Weeks” was also made during that early eighties golden period where Mickey Rourke was actually considered a sex symbol. John Gray is a good fit for the actor, who combines handsome good looks with an off-putting dark energy. No matter how smoldering or sexy Gray may be, Rourke always adds an intense and unhinged glare under his eyes. It's an approach that works for the character, who is increasingly revealed as a remorseless manipulator. That status comes into sharp focus with Gray's pathetic attempt to humanize himself to Elizabeth at the end.

Soundtrack wise, it still feels like Adrian Lyne is in “Flashdance” land. “9 ½ Weeks” opens with its titles on a black screen, scored to Al Green's haunting “Love and Happiness.” That effective mood is immediately shattered by the cheesy, eighties pop song that plays over the rest of the opening credits. Some songs are used better than others. “This City Never Sleeps” by the Eurythmics has enough simmering energy to it to fit Elizabeth's self-love. Bryan Ferry's “Slave to Love,” on the other hand, seems like a rather literal choice for a montage depicting Elizabeth's increasing dependency on Gray. The film's two theme songs, “I Do What I Do” and “Let It Go,” are both big slices of stinky eighties synth cheese. Jack Nitzsche's electronic score has its moments.

Whatever you think about its quality, “9½ Weeks” would prove to be an influential film in its way. The movie would initially flop in American theaters. A more uncut version would be a hit overseas before becoming very popular on video. B-movie star turned screenwriter Zalman King would spin the film's success into a mini-empire of softcore smut. In addition to a Mickey Rourke-starring sequel and a Rourke-less prequel, King would produce or direct countless other horny motion pictures. Such as “Two Moon Junction,” “Wild Orchid” (also starring Rourke) and its sequel, and long-running softcore TV series “Red Shoe Diaries.” And if you're really wondering how far “9 ½ Weeks'” reach is, look no further than mommy porn phenomenon “50 Shades of Grey.” That hugely popular franchise has a nearly identically named male lead and a very similar premise.

Taken on its own, “9 ½ Weeks” didn't do much for me. Even assessed strictly for its puerile value, I found the movie lacking. Its sex scenes are more laughable than arousing. While the performances are decent, an incredibly thin screenplay and distractedly flashy direction detracts from the movie's positive elements. The movie's place in the history, and the huge influence it would have on future wankable cinema, is ultimately more interesting than its actual content. Now “9 ½ Weeks” is a relic from the days when Mickey Rourke was a sex symbol and a simple blindfold was considered the kinkiest bedroom accessory. [Grade: C]

Director Report Card: Adrian Lyne (1983)

2. Flashdance

When “Flashdance” came out in 1983, there were few expectations for it. The film had no major stars. The reviews were largely negative. However, the movie connected with audiences. Partially propelled by a hit soundtrack, it quickly becoming one of the most popular films of the year. Even then, who would've guessed that “Flashdance” would've become one of the most iconic and widely parodied movies of the eighties? Rodney Dangerfield riffed on it. The Gremlins riffed on it. Elvira riffed on it. Even Snoopy riffed on it. By the time Jennifer Lopez based a music video on the film, “Flashdance” was entrenched as a cultural touchstone. Even recently, a poster for “Deadpool 2” spoofs the film. Would you believe I've never seen the movie before now?

Alex Owens is an eighteen year old girl, living on her own in Pittsburgh. During the day, she works a menial job as a welder in a steel mill. At night, she pursues her passion: Dance. She dances in a sleazy club but dreams of getting into a prestigious academy. However, she worries that her lack of professional experience makes her odds of succeeding unlikely. She has other struggles in her life. Her boss at the mill, Nick, begins to pursue her romantically. Her best friend has dreams of her own, aspiring to become a figure skater. But dance drives Alex above everything else.

“Flashdance” is, without a question, a somewhat campy artifact of the eighties. This is, after all, a movie primarily about a stripper that doesn't actually take her clothes off. The plot, of a young girl desperate to pursue her dreams above all else, is derivative of a hundred other movies. (And would be ripped off a hundred times afterwards.) There's definitely some melodramatic touches to the story's presentation. The film is primarily a delivery system for its dance numbers. The fashion, from the permed hair to various pastel colored clothes, is insanely dated. It's easy to see why critics would turn their noses up at this in 1983.

However, even people who didn't like the movie admitted that it has a captivating lead performance. Jennifer Beals had only one prior screen credit before this, an uncredited part in “My Bodyguard.” Despite that, she has no problem carrying “Flashdance” more-or-less single-handedly. She projects a naturalistic charm, seeming comfortable in the part of a young woman who is trying to prove herself. She brings a warmth and girl-next-door charm to the part, showing a fun sense of humor and an appealingly upfront attitude. The film would briefly make Beals a big star.

Despite being strictly a product of the Reagan era, when attitudes about sex and women were still somewhat reductive, “Flashdance” comes off as surprisingly modern. Alex is not seduced by Nick. She invites him back to her apartment, slowly undressing for him in a genuinely erotic sequence. It's her decision to have sex. Later, in another famous scene, she makes a rather graphic advancement towards him in a restaurant. She does not let her relationship with Nick define her and outright refuses his help on several occasions. Furthermore, Alex is never judged for her work in the club. This seemingly sex-positive attitude only goes so far though. When Hanna gets a job in a sleazier bar, one where the strippers actually do take their clothes off, Alex gets pretty angry with her about it. Our protagonist also has some Catholic guilt of her own. But considering the time and place, “Flashdance” is still pretty progressive.

“Flashdance” was part of a wave of films in the early eighties that blurred the line between movie and music video. The movie fits in well with other eighties dance flicks like “Fame,” “Footloose,” and “Dirty Dancing.” Alex's dance routines in the club – which strike me as far more elaborate than a club that dingy and rowdy would ever be willing to indulge – are filmed more-or-less like music videos. The famous first dance, where she moves in a red slip, pounds a chair, and drenches herself in water, is actually one of the film's more restrained moments. Compared that to the bizarre moment where Alex dances against a sterile white wall while wearing kakuki-style face paint, lights strobbing on and off. Lyne's flashy direction is not limited to these dance scenes. Hanna's ice skating routine, where the camera glides along the ice with her, or a completely ridiculous workout sequence are equally music video-like in their presentation.

Watching “Flashdance” right after “Foxes,” it's surprising to see they were made by the same director. “Foxes” was gritty and documentary-like. “Flashdance” is slick and melodramatic. However, you can see some of Lyne's personal style coming through at times. “Flashdance” utilizes its Pittsburgh setting the same way “Foxes” took advantage of its San Fernado Valley setting. Some of the most naturalistic scenes in the film simply watch Alex as she goes from place to place in the city streets, frequently riding her bike. She'll stop to watch a break dancer. Or will sit on a cable car for a while. While the film is not remotely realistic, you can see Lyne trying to ground the material in some sort of reality.

Yet the dancing is the star of the show. The dancing was such a monumental part of “Flashdance's” success that, when it was discovered that most of the dancing was performed by a double, Jennifer Beals' career never quite recovered. (Despite it being pretty obvious when the double takes over.) Truthfully, the dance choreography in “Flashdance” is so iconic that it's difficult to judge. The shots of Alex's legs and thighs, clad in a leotard and leg warmers, stepping wildly around the floor are widely parodied. As silly as those club scenes get, there's a definite infectious energy to them. The climatic dance, where Alex impresses the academy board, is indeed triumphant.

And, yeah, the soundtrack is pretty good. Irene Cara's Academy Award winning theme song was a breakthrough pop hit for a reason. It is insanely catchy. The way the music rises from slow and introspective to pumping and jubilant is impressive. Yes, the chorus of voices that join Cara during the last part of the song are ridiculously eighties. But it totally works for the song. The song was co-written by Giorgio Moroder. Returning from “Foxes,” Moroder also provides the movie's score. It's largely electronic and sometimes seems a little out-of-place with the movie.

The other famous song in the movie, Michael Sembello's “Maniac,” has a similarly contagious chorus. Its dance rhythm is intense and driving. It's well known trivia that Sembello was originally inspired by William Lustig's notorious 1980 sleaze-slasher of the same name. When the producers of “Flashdance” heard the song, they asked him to shift the subject from a serial killer to a young dancer. That was probably a wise move, though I've always wanted to hear the original version. Also appearing on the soundtrack is Joe Esposito's overwrought “Lady, Lady, Lady” and Joan Jett's “I Love Rock n' Roll,” whose appearance is a little on the nose.

“Flashdance” has its flaws. The most serious of which is that none of the subplots are especially effective. Such as the love story between Alex and Nick. Michael Nouri is mildly charming in the part and has decent chemistry with Beals. However, the romance is mostly secondary to the actual plot. A turn where Alex becomes concerned that Nick is cheating on her is totally unnecessary. So is the eventual reveal that the woman is his ex-wife and also a huge bitch. The very end of the movie has her forgiving him basically out of the blue.

Yet even the romance is more interesting than the movie's other subplots. Richie, the bar's cook, hopes to become a stand-up comic. His material leans heavily on Polock jokes. He eventually moves out to California, comes back, and then disappears from the movie. Hanna's story, her dream of becoming a skater which she abandons in favor of stripping, seems to parallel Alex's. Yet, if there's any point to this particular sideline, it never comes to anything. I honestly wonder if these story points were included more to pad the movie out than contribute to its story or themes.

“Flashdance's” legacy is not just in the lasting popularity of its music, dances, or imagery. It also launched the careers of screenwriter Joe Eszterhas and producer Jerry Bruckheimer. Bruckheimer, of course, would become one of a reigning action producer while Eszterhas' career as Hollywood's highest paid screenwriter burned brightly if briefly. (Financially speaking, anyway. Whether Eszterhas' frequently lazy and trashy work ever had any artistic value is still a matter of debate.) Lyne's dramatic direction obviously played a big role in “Flashdance's” success and he would basically build his career on it. This is a silly movie but pretty fun. [Grade: B]

Director Report Card: Adrian Lyne (1980)

What the heck happened to Adrian Lyne? The British director rose out of commercials and went on to direct some of the most iconic films of the eighties. He continued to find commercial and critical success in the nineties. And then, after making one more film in 2002, he has been very quiet. It would seem that Lyne's career is a casualty of Hollywood's increasing indifference to mid-budget dramas. But let's not focus on the past. Let's return to the beginning of the director's whose films, for many, define the sweaty, sleazy but still glossy 1980s.

1. Foxes

As long as I can remember, my dad has been a huge fan of Jodie Foster. I'm not going to delve into why this is, though the reasons are probably pretty creepy. Whatever the reason, over the years, I've seen probably more Jodie Foster movies than most people. And a favorite of my dad is 1980's “Foxes.” The movie combined his love of Foster and the greasy seventies atmosphere. The movie was also the feature debut of director Adrian Lyne, after making two shorts. Though his first full length movie, the film seems to dabble in some of the same themes that Lyne would touch on later.

The seventies are coming to a close but, for four teenage friends, the party rages on. Jeanie, Deirdre, Madge, and Annie go to school during the day. At night, they hang out in the San Fernado Valley's party scene, drinking too much, sleeping around, and doing too many drugs. However, complications soon arise in their lives. Annie's police officer father is abusive. Jeanie has her own struggles with her divorced parents. Madge has low self esteem and Deirdre is juggling too many guys. Soon enough, the party is going to be over.

“Foxes” is of a tradition of movies, which stretch back to the drive-in flicks of the fifties and would continue with the cinema of Larry Clark and movies like “Havoc.” Call it the teens-ploitation movie. Films like this depict teenagers having wild, irresponsible times, indulging drugs and other vices. While it ostensibly condemns these actions, the movie also happily luxuriates in this sleazy behavior. To be fair, “Foxes” is one of the better examples of this genre, being neither too excessive nor too judgmental. But its placement inside the genre is fairly evident.

“Foxes” pretends its protagonists' indulgences as a fact of life. The girls drink casually and too much. They skip school to party. Some of them trade boyfriends freely. Oddly, drug use is referenced in dialogue but rarely depicted on camera. Yet it seems the girls are less out-of-control than they are merely troubled. “Foxes” spends just as much time on the emotional hangover following their good times. Jeanie actively wonders if this is all there is and worries about her friends a lot. The consequences on their actions are focused on, giving the movie more of a “coming of age” feeling than an exploitation feeling. If you're taking a historical view, maybe “Foxes” is an example of its filmmakers feeling some regrets after a wild decade wrapped up.

“Foxes” is lent a lot by its time and setting. The San Fernado Valley location brings with it a lot of personality. One scene has the girls driving down Hollywood Boulevard, where they interact with pimps and streetwalkers. Another scene has Jeanie and a friend hanging out in the Hollywood hills. There's a distinct California atmosphere even to the scenes set in the suburbs, sweaty and ocean bordering. And it's not the California that exists today. Though released at the dawn of the new decade, “Foxes” is quintessentially set in the dying days of disco. The fashion, the music, and the social attitudes root it in a specific time and place. It's an appealing combination.

The struggles the girls have with their parents and boyfriends are also undeniably seventies. Jeanie's mom is an almost classical example of the “me generation” parent. While her daughter is struggling with her own problems, her mom is off chasing a recently divorced man. At one point, she leaves the home altogether, disappearing for almost a week. In a circumstance that is unlikely to fly today, another one of the teenage girls begins dating a man ten years older than her. This isn't consider creepy or weird. When the two get married, it provides something like a happy ending. My, how the times have changed.

Adrian Lyne has listed the French New Wave and Neo-Realist as influences. You can see this European style at work in “Foxes.” Lyne's camera frequently gets up-close with his characters and their world. The opening scene hovers around the debris lying around the girls' room – junk food wrapping, fast food boxes – establishing their youthful and lackadaisical wastefulness. The scenes of the girls eating breakfast or talking among themselves have an intimate feeling. When a fight breaks out at a party, Lyne is right there with the characters, tumbling through tables and windows. Considering Lyne is a British director making a movie about American teenagers, there's an almost documentary edge to his cinematic style. Like an anthropologist exploring a new culture.

More than anything else, it's the cast that makes “Foxes” work. This was the last film Jodie Foster would make before she took a four year break to go to college. This signaled the end of the “child star” phase of her career. Foster's talent was already obvious by now. She plays Jeanie as more attuned than her friends. She dreams of moving to New York and becoming a painter. She describes her sexual affairs in an almost academic manner, saying she simply curious. As the story goes on, it becomes clear that Jeanie has her head screwed on the tightest. Foster happily inhabits these attributes. Wise beyond her years but still with a youthful energy, its an ideal part for her.

The film would also be the acting debut of Cherie Currie, the infamous lead singer of the Runaways. She plays Annie, by far the most wild and out-of-control of the quartet. This is largely due to an abusive, controlling father. Considering Currie had already survived rock stardom by this point, and had the visible tattoo to prove it, one can't help but assume her take on Annie is slightly autobiographical. (Amusingly, she even gets a line deriding punk fashion in favor of disco.) The character's frequently intoxicated or drugged-out state seems accurate. Currie has a unique vibe as an actress, gifted with an invigorating but unnervingly manic energy. And her youth provides a vulnerability. These attributes suit the part of a troubled teenage girl.

Of the four girls, one really stands out. Madge is heavier than the others and wears nerdy glasses. She begins the film as a virgin and it really stresses her out. While the other girls have absent or abusive parents, Madge's mom and sister are perhaps too involved in her life. Playing this part is Marilyn Kagan, whose brief career would also include eighties slasher cult classic “The Initiation.” Kagan projects a shyness as Madge. While not the most tragic of the girls, she's the one you can't help but feel sorry for the most. Her friends have other, more serious problems. Madge is just struggling with the typical insecurities of being a teenager. Which makes her strife more relatable.

Of the four girls, Kandice Stroh's Deirdre probably gets the least to do. She has the most boyfriends and shines during a scene where she flirts with another guy on the phone. However, her arc has an abbreviated feeling. Among the other cast is a young Scott Biao, as the young boy the girls treat more like a younger brother than a potential romantic partner. Randy Quaid, of all people, appears as Madge's much older boyfriend. Quaid has that same unhinged energy here that he frequently brings to his performances, making Madge's suitor seem even more inappropriate. The film was also an early role for Laura Dern, who appears briefly as a girl talking about diaphragms at a party.

Though I've heard “Foxes” compared to “Saturday Night Fever,” the film is much less about disco culture. Jeanie's dad is the road manager to Angel and the girls watch the band perform. (They also sing a number called “20th Century Foxes,” which was likely meant to be the movie's theme song.) The girls' taste veers towards general pop music, as they listen to Boston and Cher throughout the film. Nevertheless, the soft piano driven overture of Donna Summer's “On the Radio” is the main musical refrain throughout “Foxes.” It provides a sad, introspective feeling to many scenes. Giorgio Moroder provides the score. His electronic music sometimes feels a little out of place, as in a skateboard assisted chase scene, but it seems like a suitably hip choice for the film's composer.

“Foxes” received some critical praise in 1980. Roger Ebert gave it good notices and Jodie Foster was nominated for a Young Artist Award. However, audiences would mostly overlook the movie. Outside of Foster fans like my dad, it doesn't seem to have much of a cult following either. (Though that didn't keep it from being played on eighties HBO a lot.) Still, “Foxes” is worth seeing. The performances are strong. The film's visual approach and feel is appealing. The script is fairly predictable but still heart-felt. The ending is a bit downbeat but “Foxes” is ultimately a minorly rewarding watch. [Grade: B]

WHY DO I OWN THIS?: Delirious (1991)

John Candy was a wonderful comedic performer that rarely found vehicles truly deserving of his talent. He prospered in wacky supporting roles in movies like “Stripes” or “Spaceballs.” His leading parts tended to fluctuated more wildly in quality. There's a reason you never hear anyone talking about “Who's Harry Crumb?” or “Armed and Dangerous.” Or, for that matter, “Delirious.” The movie was another of many flops, grossing not quite six million against an eighteen million dollar budget, that plagued Candy near the end of his life. The critics were no more fond of the film than audiences were. So, once again, I ask the titular question: Why do I own this apparent stinker?

In “Delirious,” Candy plays Jack Gable. A nervous and easily frustrated man, Gable works as a writer for “Beyond Our Dreams,” a popular daytime soap opera. Gable has got some problems. He's got an unrequited crush on Laura, one of the actresses on the show. The show runners are constantly rewriting his script and threatening to replace him, especially with his attempts to introduce some new characters. A stressful day concludes with him getting hit in the head by a trunk latch. Gable awakens within the soap opera's universe. Soon, Jack realizes the characters have mistaken him for Jack Gates, the bad-ass new character he hoped to write into the show. Later still, he discovers he can manipulate the universe's events simply by rewriting them.

The troupes and conventions of soap operas are well-trotted ground as far as parodies go. You don't have to travel far to find something making fun of the overheated melodramas and nonsensical plot twist the now dying format is notorious for. It would seem the filmmakers behind “Delirious,” including director Tim Mankiewicz who previously wrote several Bond movies and a couple of Richard Donner's films, where at least partially aware of this. “Delirious” is a somewhat indecisive parody of soaps. The first half is more about Jack responding to the ridiculous soap opera characters. (Which, in a joke that really hasn't aged well, includes a transvestite auto mechanic.) Its only in the second half, when characters suddenly start undergoing massive changes, that the parody aspect comes into focus. There's at least one good gag there, with a character getting super-advanced cancer out of nowhere. It's also sort of cute that the character with amnesia can't remember that he has amnesia.

Another reason I suspect this was by design is because “Delirious” seems more focused on its main character's ability to rewrite the world around him. This also ends up producing the film's too-few big laughs. John Candy rescues a girl by transforming himself into a hyper-competent martial artist. Later, he teleports a surprise cameo out of the film and sends him to Cleveland. After a night of drunken writing, Jack discovers that he's written his high school crush and some egregious typos into the soap opera world. These scenes also play to John Candy's strengths far better than the broader gags. Candy is funnier when reacting with shock and bafflement to his own decisions than he is during excessively wacky gags like a dramatic horse rescue going wrong or a blindfolded driving scene.

“Delirious” has a large supporting cast, most of whom work pretty well. Mariel Hemingway plays Jack's love interest. Mariel is given glasses, a unibrow, and a klutzy streak in an attempt to ugly her up. It doesn't work, of course, but Hemingway at least seems able to play off Candy. Most of the actors playing the soap opera characters happily go over the top. Emma Samms purrs every line as Rachel/Laura, the show's femme fatale. A young Dylan Baker gets some of the film's biggest bits of physical comedy, as the scheming brother struck by sudden illness. Raymond Burr, in his final film role, is nicely dry as the family patriarch. I like how he inherits a running gag about late cablemen. Disgraced SNL player Charles Rocket gets one or two funny lines two, as the guy in the eye patch. There's also a mildly funny cameo midway through, which I won't spoil.

Why Do I Own This?: So “Delirious' really isn't that funny. The film's few good jokes are bordered by quite a few lame gags and clunky moments. Candy is amusing and leads a decent cast but the material is not up to the same snuff. The movie choosing to veer into sincere romantic-comedy near the end, getting serious after eighty minutes of gaggy comedy, is a really poor choice.

So why do I own this one? As has been the case in the past, I blame misplaced nostalgia. I saw it on TV a few times as kid and even had a copy I recorded off television. I'm not sure why I was fond of it, as the film doesn't really hold up that well. There's another one for the discard pile. At least it's better than “Wagons East,” which I also recorded off TV years ago. Even as an impulsive teenager, I had the foresight not to upgrade that one to DVD. [5/10]

NO ENCORES: True Stories (1986)

1. True Stories (1986)
Director: David Bryne

I think I've liked every Talking Heads song I've ever heard but I've yet to dive very deeply into the band's music. I've heard all the big radio hits and saw “Stop Making Sense,” which was exactly as dynamic and excellent as everyone says it is. Nevertheless, I was intrigued by what I had heard about “True Stories.” To cover the film for No Encores is a bit of a cheat. David Bryne, the lead singer of Talking Heads, also directed a feature-length concert film in 1994 called “Between the Teeth.” (In addition to several music videos and short films.) However, “True Stories” shows up on many lists devoted to great films that are also their director's only films.

“True Stories” is a loosely plotted film centered around the fictional small town of Virgil, nestled deep in the heart of Texas, and narrated by Bryne. The movie tracks the lives of several eccentric people that live there. Such as a rich woman who never leaves her bed or a civic leader, who works for Varicorp, a computer manufacturing company heavily involved in the town's local events. Eventually, the story comes to center on Louis Fyne, a Varicorp employee who is looking for love and has dreams of becoming a country/western singer. The various plot threads come together at a talent show meant to celebrate the town's 150th anniversary.

“True Stories” seems to be a lightly mocking ode to small town American life in the mid-eighties. Bryne's film frequently examines the intersection between community life and consumerism. Bryne's cowboy hat wearing narrator begins the film by dryly explaining the history of the area, starring with the dinosaurs, winding his way through the various wars and massacres that occurred there, and ending with the businesses that have brought people here. Early on, the Narrator walks through a shopping mall, detailing how these temples to capitalism have become the modern town centers. The “Love for Sale” musical number has the band interacting with various television commercials, some real, some fictional. Miss Rollings eats up these commercials as if they were films, criticizing or congratulating each one.

Other scenes are more quietly critical. Some of Bryne's connecting sequences has him driving through an empty stretch of countryside, noting how it'll be full of houses in a year. This scene is soon followed by shots of empty, identical houses for sale lining the street. Yet despite holding these things up for examination, Bryne does not seem to be actively satirizing them. As in the Talking Head song “(Nothing but) Flowers,” Bryne is equally critical and fond of these things. “True Stories” plays like a slightly detached, bemused observation of where commerce and small town life intertwine.

David Bryne is not from Texas. He was born in Scotland and grew up in Maryland. Neither is anyone else from Talking Heads, the members hailing from Wisconsin, California, and Kentucky.  So it's tempting to look at “True Stories” as a bunch of outsiders making fun of life in the deep South. And parts of “True Stories” is definitely poking fun. The film portrays Virgil as a fairly ridiculous place. A fashion show in the mall involves people dressed in goofy costumes, made up to look like lettuce or buildings. The talent show at the film's end features a bizarre lasso/yodeling performance. There is a degree of smirking at these small town eccentrics.

Their beliefs and behavior especially. “True Stories” was partially inspired by wild stories from supermarket tabloids. So the film takes a look at the some of the odd beliefs flourishing in Virgil. The musical number, “Puzzlin' Evidence,” has a preacher in a packed mega-church delivering a ranting, conspiracy theory-filled sermon about the Trilateral Commission. There appears to be other religions in Virgil, as Louis visits an apparent voodoo priest before one of his dates. A prominent reoccurring character is the Lying Woman. She claims to have slept with Burt Renyolds, to have served in Vietnam with the real Rambo, to have written Elvis' songs, and half a dozen other whoppers. It seems Virgal is a breeding ground for eccentricity. Like any small town, its isolation allows odd beliefs to take hold.

As much as “True Stories” is making fun of weirdos in weird small town, it's also undeniably fond of them too. Even the jokes in the film are laced with warmth. The film presents some of these characters as odd but is very sincere about it. Such as the Cute Woman, who swoons over adorable babies. Or Louis' quest to find a woman who understands him. Yes, the fashion show in the mall is weird and goofy. But there's also something sweet about it, especially when accompanied by the wistful song “Dream Operator.” While it's easy to laugh at some of the talent show performances – like a giant model of a man eating corn? – it's also homemade art, earnestly created by people trying to express something. This sweetly appreciative if giggling attitude is maybe best summed up by a scene where a loving couple hug and kiss in a field... Before the woman asked if the man has farted.

Despite the title, “True Stories” is not attempting to realistically portray the world. There is a heavy edge of surrealism to movie. In an early scene, Bryne's Narrator steps up to a screen projecting a freeway. He then steps inside it and is next seen in a car, driving before an obviously rear-projected screen. Surreal sights like this are peppered all throughout the movie. The “Love for Sale” scene features the members of Talking Heads being transformed into candy bars, which are then eaten. Another musical number features the band interacting with models of buildings, appearing like giants. Among Miss Rollings' house staff is a chattering robot. There's a deliberate artificial edge to many of the movie's scenes. So it's no surprise when the film concludes with Bryne talking about forgetting things, as if he's awakening from a vivid but fleeting dream.

As a director, Bryne's influences are obvious. European art cinema obviously had a big influence on “True Stories,” with its Godard-like white-on-black title cards or neo-realist documentary approach. You can see wisps of John Waters or David Lynch in its love of small town eccentrics  (Though “True Stories” actually came out the same year as “Blue Velvet,” so the resemblance is unintentional. Either way, it's pretty clear the two Daves share some of the same interests.) Considering his past directing music videos, it's not surprising that “True Stories” frequently resembles one. The song sequences could've been clipped out and shown on MTV and few would've noticed they were intended for the network. Even non-musical scenes, like Spalding Gray's dinner table speech about modern life, are choreographed like a dance. Bryne likes to frame large buildings on empty fields in wide shots, making them look like tiny models. All of “True Stories” maintains this perfectly arranged aesthetic.

By focusing more on a whole town, instead of one person, “True Stories” is not truly an actor's movie. Most of the cast members only have a few scenes. Spalding Gray and Annie McEnroe, as the Culvers, give intentionally exaggerated performances, playing oddly inhuman seeming humans. Jo Harvey Allen and Roebuck 'Pops' Staples are cartoonish as the Lying and Lazy Woman. Bryne himself plays the Narrator as an extension of his stage persona as the lead singer of Talking Heads. He's like a curious alien, watching and commenting on the people and their lives without ever feeling like one of them. All of these choices were obviously intentional.

The closest thing the film has to a protagonist is John Goodman's Louis Fyne. Goodman, it turns, is perfectly cast as Bryne's version of a small town working stiff. Goodman, of course, has a marvelous gift for projecting warmth. He plays Fyne as a slightly ditzy – he does share a last name with one of the Three Stoodges – but well meaning man. He hopes to find romance because he hopes to settle down. Yet his dreams of becoming a singer also set him apart from some of the people around him. Thus, Goodman becomes an everyday guy longing for dreams that seem out of reach. There's not a single thing trite or vulgar about the character, who is as sincere and oddly lovable as the movie around, qualities Goodman is an expert at playing.

“True Stories” is also an unusual take on the musical. When the songs kick in, a further sense of unreality takes over. During “Wild Wild Life,” the break-out lead single on the soundtrack, people from the town walk on-stage to sing and are transformed. Bryne assumes the guise of Billy Idol and a mustachioed Latin lover. Another man becomes the spitting image of Prince. The film frequently uses its music to express dreams and illusions. “Dream Operator” is a sincere ode to the goofy models on the runway. When Goodman steps on-stage to sing “People Like Us,” he fulfills his dream of becoming a singer. The music isn't just catchy but its lyrics and melodies are also in line with the movie's oddball sensibilities.

“True Stories” was not a commercial hit in 1986. I can't imagine anyone expected it to be. A movie like this was always going to be a cult oddity. (The Talking Head album of the same name, which featured the band re-recording the movie's songs, was more successful.) Accordingly, the film has attracted a passionate following, some considering it an overlooked classic. It's an enchanting film, full of life and energy, utterly sincere in its love and humor. Bryne mixed his particular interests together to create a lovable motion picture. After your first viewing, it's likely you'll want to visit Virgil again. It's just such a nice place to live. [9/10]

WHY DO I OWN THIS?: Ghost Dad (1990)

We finally live in a time when some women feel like its possible to come forward about the sexual assault and violence they've suffered, even when the responsible party is a beloved pop culture icon. Since this has begun, a few stock reactions have cropped up. I recently saw a brilliant comic mocking one of the most common reactions, the “I never liked this person anyway” reaction. Which will make the following statement from me read as especially insincere but: I always thought there was something off about Bill Cosby. As a stand-up, I frequently found his material amusing. Yet the wholesome, family man image he projected, most obviously on his sitcom, always struck me as somewhat insincere. I guess I never got over the bullshit he put Lisa Bonet through. If I've never been much of a Cosby fan, why do I own “Ghost Dad,” which is not even regarded as an especially good Bill Cosby movie? 

If the title didn't tell you enough, let me lay down the plot of “Ghost Dad” for you. The film follows Elliot Hopper. A recently widowed father of three, he's frequently not at home because he's so busy working. He's so absent that he forgets their birthdays and records their bed time stories to tape. One day, on the way to work, Elliot is picked up by an insane cab driver. Soon, he ends up careening off the edge of a bridge. Hopper awakens as a ghost, believing himself to be dead. He soon learns he can briefly make himself corporeal and goes about trying to return himself to the land of the living.

On the surface, “Ghost Dad” has some things going for it. Behind the camera was Sidney Poitier. Yes, that Sidney Poitier, the Academy Award winning actor who previously directed half-decent comedy “Silver Streak.” The film was co-written by S. S. Wilson and Brent Maddock. This same team had a hand in creating nostalgic favorites like “Tremors,” “Short Circuit,” and “*batteries not included.” Those movies overcame their high concept premise to become decent. “Ghost Dad” does not achieve this goal. Every expected gag is pulled off in as excruciating a manner as possible.

So we get a ghostly Cosby attempting to pass a physical exam, utilizing a skeleton during an x-ray and stealing another man's pee. In jokes right out of a “Casper the Friendly Ghost” cartoon, people react in frightened, exaggerated manners to Cosby's shenanigans. Such as when he wraps himself up like the Invisible Man, makes it look like his youngest daughter is lifting a large trash can or helping his budding magician son pull off outrageous tricks. Most cringe worthy is when he uses his ghostly abilities to torment the sleazeball interested in dating his daughter. Yes, there's even some fart and poop jokes. The non-ghost jokes the film cooks up, like a man having a woman's name, are equally uninspired.

Being a movie about a dad who is also a ghost was not enough of a log line for “Ghost Dad.” The  film follows the standard family movie narrative of a workaholic father who, via fantastical circumstances, learns to make more time for his kids. (Connecting this film with fellow high-concept family movie and previous “Why Do I Own This?” entry,  “My Stepmother is an Alien,” the dad in both films is a widower.) At one point, he chastises his children because he's afraid of loosing his job. Even though he's, you know, dead and his job should be a moot point. In fact, the tension over his job is one of the primary motivators of the plot. Copper has to go through some ridiculous hoops to keep his job, even though he's a fucking ghost. The film's commitment to corny bullshit is confirmed in the last act, when the script wimps out and undoes Copper's ghost status.

When over fifty women accused him of rape, it became impossible to enjoy anything Bill Cosby has ever done. That he frequently played the role of a wise family patriarch just makes everything he did more uncomfortable. “Ghost Dad” is an especially awkward watch. Copper becomes a ghost because he hitches a ride with a devil-worshiping cab driver. The scene builds until Cosby declares himself to be Satan incarnate. Later, there's a scene where Copper's female neighbor, unaware of him being undead, attempts to coax him into a romantic encounter. Yeah, that was unpleasant. Aside from the shitty script, Cosby's in-retrospect status as a monstrous human being makes the ending, where he declares his undying love for his teenage daughter, even harder to swallow.

Why Do I Own This?: There's absolutely no excuse for me owning this stinker. So why do I? Well, you may recall a previous column where I reviewed “King Ralph.” The easiest way to grab that film was in a four pack. And what where the other movies in that set? “Pure Luck,” “For Richer or Poorer,” and “Ghost Dad.” Apparently “shitty, high concept comedies” was the connecting theme in that four film collection. Even if it didn't start a serial rapist, “Ghost Dad” would still be a really shitty movie. The script is garbage and the jokes are limp. [4/10]

NO ENCORES: Not Another Teen Movie (2001)

1. Not Another Teen Movie (2001)
Director: Joel Gallen

When you've been a movie nerd as long as I've been, a certain degree of cynicism is hard to avoid. It's easy to say something like “the parody movie is dead,” even when new classics of the genre like “Black Dynamite” and “They Came Together” creep out every few years. So the parody film might not be dead but it's definitely seen better days. Nearly a decade of steaming garbage like “Meet the Spartans” and “Date Movie,” which didn't make fun of genres so much as just randomly reference trailers and copy scenes, has left the spoof's reputation in shambles.

The “___ Movie” series wouldn't have happened without “Scary Movie” and “Not Another Teen Movie” re-popularizing the parody in the early 2000s. Some, however, have been willing to stand up for the quality of these two movies, despite the awful trend they would spawn. “Not Another Teen Movie, “ in particular, gets singled out for being smarter and better than it seemed. As the sole feature credit of television director Joel Gallen, who probably got this job due to directing several long form parody skits at the MTV Movie Awards, perhaps it does deserve another look.

Shit is going down at John Hughes High School. Football jock Jake has just been dumped by his cheerleader girlfriend Priscilla, who is now dating an artsy-fartsy would-be filmmaker. As revenge, Jake takes up a friend's bet: That he can turn the school's rebellious artist girl, Janney, into prom queen. Jake takes the bet but soon finds himself genuinely attracted to Janney, once she takes off her glasses and lets her hair down. Mixed in there is Janney's younger brother's quest to loose his virginity, the desperate attempts of Janney's best friend to get her romantic attention, and Jake's sister's incestuous desires for her brother, among other things.

Gallen's film targets primarily the teen movies that flourished in the late nineties. The film's A-plot is mostly drawn from “She's All That.” Just in case you didn't get the joke, the film is explicitly referenced several times. The film also throws in direct parodies of “10 Things I Hate About You,” “American Pie,” “Cruel Intentions,” “Never Been Kissed,” “Bring It On,” “Varsity Blues,” and “Road Trip.” (Also “American Beauty,” which I guess is kind of a teen movie.) Occasionally, the homages veer slightly older, with “The Breakfast Club,” “Porky's,” “Ruby,” “Sixteen Candles,” “Ferris Bueller's Day Off,” and “Pretty in Pink” also being ridiculed.

I haven't seen all these movies which means some of the humor is lost on me, which is one of the perils of directly parodying then-recent films. Some of these call-backs are mildly amusing, like the increasingly ridiculous antics of the cheerleaders. Or the elderly journalist sent undercover into the school, which isn't much sillier than a thirty year old Drew Barrymore passing as a teen. Others are somewhat gratuitous, like the incest jokes taken from “Cruel Intentions.” Some even come off as mean-spirited, like the oddly placed jabs at “American Beauty.”

I'll give credits where its due. Unlike later parodies, “Not Another Teen Movie” isn't content to just reference these films. It at least builds jokes around them, as crude or uninspired as they may be. When people talk about “Not Another Teen Movie” being better or smarter than expected, I suspect they're talking about the way the movie riffs on the ideas behind teen movies.  Janney being considered unattractive just because she wears glasses, a ponytail and overalls – the lunacy of which is drawn into sharp contrast by comparing her to literally deformed students – is mocking “She's All That.” It's also mocking the ridiculous standards of beauty in our society.

A token black kid commenting on his own tokenness is goofing on teen flicks but also on how marginalized other races can be. (This is best emphasized during one of the quieter and better gags, when he runs into another token black guy at a party.) The overweight football player suffering repeated concussions is a joke based on “Varsity Blues” but its also commenting on how the real dangers of high school football are often ignored. Let's not give the movie too much credit. The satire is less biting than it is tangential. A smarter, sharper film easily could've been made from this stuff but “Not Another Teen Movie” is not that film.

Ultimately, the gags that made me laugh the most in “Not Another Teen Movie” tend to be more free-wheeling examples of absurdity. In a possible homage to “Pleasentville,” the cheer squad recruits a cheery and wholesome blonde... Who happens to have Tourette's, frequently spending strings of vulgar nonsense. Mr. T has a hilarious cameo as the Wise Janitor, whose advice is actually not that helpful. As does Melissa Joan Hart, who appears to instruct an overeager guy attempting to start a slow clap. These are but two of the high-profile cameos in the film, the best of which is saved for the final act. The transitional end of the second act explodes into a musical number, which is pretty unexpected.

Some of the funniest gags are also the smallest. Like Jake admiring a photo of himself at the school, before walking over to another photo of himself admiring the previous photo. Or Mitch and his friends saying they're setting out on an epic road trip to a party, which lasts about one minute as they drive up the street. Janney's passionately works on her art, with the results being much more whimsical than expected. The movie needed more bits of Zuckerian goofiness like that. Instead of scenes of people being hit by cars or falling down, a style of gaggery the movie leans on too much.

Another thing “Not Another Teen Movie” leans on too much is its considerable crude streak. This is, after all, a film that begins with its female lead's elaborate masturbation ritual going incredibly wrong. Not a minute passes without a reference to some crude sex act or bodily function. Sometimes it gets a laugh, like Cerina Vincent's foreign exchange student spending the entire movie nude, but usually its just gratuitous, the writers going for the easiest jokes. This is most apparent in a scene that begins with a girl peeing on the commode and concludes with a huge fountain of excrement spraying into a class room. Yes, this is extending the sex and shit jokes already existing in teen movies to their most extreme conclusions. But it's also apparent that Gallen and his team just thought poop and other naughty stuff was funny.

Maybe “Not Another Teen Movie's” recent reevaluate is strictly due to its cast. Chris Evans is now one of the star players of the Marvel Cinematic Universe. The future Captain America shows himself to be totally game. He plays his ridiculous part to the fullest, embodying the role of a clueless jock idiot without ever winking too much. Not even during the scene where's only wearing whip cream and a suggestively placed banana. Chlyer Leigh, who also has her own superhero cred as the sister on the CW's “Supergirl,” is similarly shameless as Janney, acting her heart out during one ridiculous scene after another. (Leigh was, apparently, in the throes of a serious drug addiction at the time.) Everyone is fairly well cast, from Jaime Pressly as the bitchy cheerleader, Randy Quaid as the shell-shocked war vet dad, to a frequently hilarious Eric Christian Olsen as the cocky blonde guy. The material is mediocre but the cast fucking goes for it.

I don't have much affection for “Not Another Teen Movie.” For every funny bit or memorable gag, there's ten that fail to make me laugh. Mostly, the movie strikes me as overly crass and fairly desperate. The movie was a moderate box office success but the contemporary critical reaction was largely negative. Maybe that's why Joel Gallen has stuck to his music videos, award shows, and TV specials since its release. His direction, fairly flat and uninteresting, definitely reflects his television roots. While I don't besmirch the movie's cult following, “Not Another Teen Movie” gets in its own way a little too often and relies on easy, gross-out far too much. [5/10]