Only now does it occur to me... SIDE OUT (1990)

Only now does it occur to me... that there's only one movie where you can witness a neon-candy-colored Jose Cuervo-sponsored volleyball Kumite. And that movie is SIDE OUT.

So what is a "side out?" It seems to be an arcane bit of volleyball jargon which is, as far as I remember, never defined by the film itself. As to the question of what is "SIDE OUT," the movie? we can creep a little closer to clarity.

So what we have here is C. Thomas Howell (THE OUTSIDERS, THE HITCHER, RED DAWN). He's playing a law student on summer break. (Can we thank our lucky stars that it's not his blackface-wearing law student from SOUL MAN?) He's picked up at the airport by volleyball-enthusiast/hearse-driving buddy Christopher Rydell (best known to readers of this site for starring in Dario Argento's TRAUMA). Rydell immediately ingratiates himself to the viewer by forcing a weird Freddy Krueger reference

which sort of implies that he deserves primo airport parking because he's picking up... a burn victim child murderer? (C. Thomas Howell does not play a burn victim in this movie, not even if we're counting sunburn.)

Rydell has rad vanity plates, too, because this is a movie made in 1990.

Anyway, C. Tom Howell is really here on the West Coast to do the bidding of his evil uncle (Terry Kiser, of WEEKEND AT BERNIE'S)

who is absolutely just reprising "Bernie" from WEEKEND AT BERNIE'S. It's basically a prequel. He's a real estate lawyer who puts poor C. Tom up to some white-collar repo man antics, evicting poor people and gathering materials to help dastardly land developers (again, this is a movie made in 1990).

Kathy Ireland is here, playing the evil uncle's paralegal, or something. 

 

She's in the movie for such a brief span, I have to imagine she had other scenes which were deleted. Which is a shame, because Cannon Films' ALIEN FROM L.A. revealed that she has better acting chops than you might expect.

Anyway, C. Tom finds out that obeying corporate masters is much lamer than jus' hangin' out and playin' beach volleyball all day.

 

So Rydell makes him an offer he can't refuse.

And C. Tom gets a girlfriend along the way: Courtney Thorne-Smith (MELROSE PLACE, ALLEY MCBEAL, SUMMER SCHOOL), a waitress at the local volleyball-themed watering hole.

 Check out that totally tubular neon sign out front, of a volleyball getting swatted back and forth:

And can we talk about Courtney Thorne-Smith's blouse for a minute? The costumers were up to some wacky shit here––obviously neon pink was a staple of a 1990 beach fashion ensemble, but when we finally get a reverse shot, it reveals a heretofore unseen transparent plastic back panel

which is practically some outré, cyberpunk, "Zhora in BLADE RUNNER" type-stuff. (There will be more on this neon fashion manifesto later, that's a promise.)

Anyway, she is the romantic lead, and she is mostly defined by her blondeness and physical proximity to C. Thomas Howell. I'm pretty sure this doesn't pass the Bechdel Test, but you already knew that.

So C. Tom is living his best life, and participating in volleyball tournaments which are far more plentiful and higher paid in the SIDE OUT universe than in ours. Oh, look––C. Tom and Christopher Rydell are doing the crane kick from THE KARATE KID, a playful reference to a film starring C. Tom's OUTSIDERS cast buddy, Ralph Macchio:

Anyway, Christopher Rydell is tragically injured during this match, and C. Tom must join forces with crusty volleyball veteran Peter Horton (CHILDREN OF THE CORN, THIRTYSOMETHING), who is absolutely the poor man's Steven Weber. Think about those implications.

Through many montages, the two learn to work past their differences and become an awesome volleyball team. Also, C. Tom helps him out with some real estate difficulties, and really sticks it to the man (his uncle "Bernie"). Whew.

A good drinking game you could play with this movie is, "drink every time C. Thomas Howell takes his shirt off."

Eventually, it's time for the big tourney, the Jose Cuervo-hosted volleyball kumite with a $100,000 prize.

If you've seen ROCKY IV, you can probably predict exactly how this goes, point by point,

even if you don't predict the use of the rad 1990 insult "cheese dick."

The movie ends the instant they win "the big game," without any additional character development/reaction/resolution, because the movie knows itself well enough to know that would be completely unnecessary. 

What I don't understand is this: why isn't this just called VOLLEYBALL: THE MOVIE? If you polled a thousand people at the mall and asked them what sport a "side out" is from, how many would guess volleyball? This movie's entire raison d'être is the Kenny Loggins volleyball montage in TOP GUN, and they're even brazen enough to recycle "Playing With the Boys" for it's biggest volleyball montage.

One final thought. At a fashion-show-within-a-volleyball-tournament they actually spell out the formal aesthetics of this movement. It's practically a manifesto. I thought this sort of rigorous self-definition went out of style with the Dadaists, Surrealists, and the Cubists, but here it is, veritably thriving in 1990!

 

 

Volleyball fashion is an ethos, really. Also, there are women in that crowd, and that woman is talking about a fashion manifesto––so I guess this sorta passes the Bechdel test? 

SIDE OUT, ladies and gentlemen.

My analysis of "Freddy Vs. Jason: The Novelization" in Barrelhouse

Longtime readers of this site know that I am no stranger to in-depth reviews of dubious movie tie-ins and absurd horror novelizations. Today, I am proud to present my heavily-footnoted critique of the seminal work FREDDY VS. JASON: THE NOVELIZATION OF THE SCREENPLAY in an essay I call "The Free Thinker and the Automaton: Polarity and Duality in Stephen Hand's Freddy Vs. Jason: The Novelization of the Screenplay by Damian Shannon and Mark J. Swift." It's appearing online in Barrelhouse Magazine (a publication I have long admired for its commitment to high-brow aesthetics and pop culture detritus) as a part of their "Barrelhouse of Horrors" series, and I recommend checking out the other entries as well.

R.I.P., Wes Craven

I'm sorry to report on the passing of Wes Craven, a gentleman and a scholar, one of the all-time great masters of horror who made his indelible mark on the genre with A NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET, NEW NIGHTMARE, SCREAM, LAST HOUSE ON THE LEFT, and THE HILLS HAVE EYES. He had such range in his deeper cuts, too, with offbeat masterpieces like THE PEOPLE UNDER THE STAIRS, DEADLY FRIEND, and THE SERPENT AND THE RAINBOW.  In Freddy Krueger, he invented one of horror's enduring icons, and while Wes didn't approve of every ridiculous iteration of the character, I love Freddy in all of his terror and his hilarity, a Grand Guignol superstar for our times.  [I mean, as of this moment, I have a plastic Freddy glove, a Freddy goblet, and a sticker that says "Freddy for President" all within sight of my computer.  That speaks less to Freddy's album and one-liners than it does to Wes' capacity to effortlessly conjure our primal fears and visceral anxieties in a way that is ultimately exhilarating.]

About five years ago at IFC, it was my honor to briefly chat with him about the rumors of bizarro goings-on behind-the-scenes of THE SERPENT AND THE RAINBOW.  His eyes lit up, and he told me about the cast and crew having shared nightmares of cows with television static for eyes, crew members fleeing the set, strange wall seepage in hotel rooms, and others seeking mystical protection with local Houngans.  His demeanor was warm, fatherly, professorial.  You can get a great sense of the man from a New York Times piece he wrote two years ago on fear of retirement.

There are plenty of Wes' films I should have written about by now but haven't, but you can read more here on SCREAM 2, SCREAM 3, DEADLY BLESSING, VAMPIRE IN BROOKLYN, SWAMP THING, and even Wes' fun cameos in films like BODY BAGS and DIARY OF THE DEAD.

Only now does it occur to me... DEADLY BLESSING

Only now does it occur to me... that I would ever see Ernest Borgnine play a crazy-eyed, terrifying Amish preacher in a Wes Craven religious-slasher flick.

Er, scratch that, he's not Amish– he's a "Hittite."  Now nobody can be offended, apparently.  As Sharon Stone's character says, "The Hittites make the Amish look like swingers."  What, WHUTTT?!– did I just say "Sharon Stone?"

Yup, here she is, in one of her very first film roles, pictured below as a real, defanged spider crawls up her neck.



This would seem to nullify Menahem Golan's claim that she was discovered entirely by Cannon Films.

We also have the distinctive Michael Berryman (THE HILLS HAVE EYES, ONE FLEW OVER THE CUCKOO'S NEST, WEIRD SCIENCE)
 
as a red herring, a role he would later fulfill again in the similarly-themed religious slasher episode of the X-FILES, "Revelations."

Anyway, DEADLY BLESSING is definitely second or third-tier Craven, though it contains much memorable and spooky imagery (including freaky use of snakes and spiders)
 
 and feels in many ways like a trial run for A NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET, with its distinguishing Craven camera-angles:

and its surreal forays into the dreamscape
 
 
which tell me that, conscious or not, the germ of the idea that was Freddy Krueger began to really flesh itself out for the first time on set of DEADLY BLESSING.

GIANT OSCAR MESS: Best Puppet

In my continuing coverage of GIANT OSCAR MESS (best described HERE), I present to you the nominees for final category: BEST PUPPET IN A MOTION PICTURE

And the winner was...

...Lorenzo Lamas, a win made all the more shocking because he wasn't even nominated. Mr. Lamas himself (impersonator Eric Schmalenberger) even accepted the award, in character. It's a live ride!

GIANT OSCAR MESS: Best Wackified Solo Dance

In my continuing coverage of GIANT OSCAR MESS (best described HERE), I present to you the nominees for BEST WACKIFIED SOLO DANCE IN A MOTION PICTURE. And the winner was... ....Mark Patton in A NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET 2, for special achievement in multi-tasking between doing a wackified solo dance and completing his housework. (to be continued...)

Next Sunday: GIANT OSCAR MESS at the Bowery Poetry Club

As part of my ongoing series as an artist-in-residence at the Bowery Poetry Club:

Next Sunday, February 26th at 9:30 p.m. (doors open at 9) at the Bowery Poetry Club (308 Bowery between Houston and Bleecker, take the F train to 2nd Ave, or the 6 to Bleecker) will be Junta Juleil's retort to the Academy Awards– the GIANT OSCAR MESS. Combining live performance, singers, dancers, comics, and hosted by Sean Young (Jillaine Gill) and Christian Slater (Sean Gill), the GIANT OSCAR MESS will deliver awards to the films that really deserve them (and screen a variety of short, mind-blowing clips therein); films like PERFECT, TROLL 2, THE GARBAGE PAIL KIDS MOVIE, BODY ROCK, MUNCHIE, THE PIRATE MOVIE, ROCK N' ROLL NIGHTMARE, RENT-A-COP, MAC AND ME, TEEN WITCH, ACE HITS THE BIG TIME, DEATH WISH 3, SALSA, A NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET 2, and many, many more. $10 at the door.

Film Review: NEW NIGHTMARE (1994, Wes Craven)

Stars: 4 of 5.
Running Time: 112 minutes.
Notable Cast or Crew: John Saxon (TENEBRE, ENTER THE DRAGON), Heather Langenkamp (GROWING PAINS, SHOCKER, A NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET), Robert Englund (EATEN ALIVE, DANCE OF THE DEAD, ST. IVES), Miko Hughes (MERCURY RISING, APOLLO 13), David Newsom (KISS KISS BANG BANG, 24), W. Earl Brown ("Dan Dority" on DEADWOOD, SCREAM, BEING JOHN MALKOVICH). Shot by Mark Irwin (VIDEODROME, THE FLY, THE BLOB, SCREAM). Music by J. Peter Robinson (THE WRAITH, THE GATE, THE BELIEVERS, COCKTAIL).
Tag-line: "On October 14th, terror no longer stops at the screen..."
Best one-liner: "Every kid knows who Freddy is. He's like Santa Claus... or King Kong or..."

I mean, clearly Wes was more than a little pissed that he created an epochal, child-murdering burn victim (who played our subconscious phobias like a piano) that was subsequently hijacked and transformed into a one-liner machine, corporate huckster, and frequent occupant of board games, pinball machines, yo-yos, and the like.

Wes Craven: disdainful toward what they did to his Freddy.

Personally, I'm cool with a Freddy who scares the shit outta me as well as one who rides skateboards and says things like, "Bon Appétit...BITCH!," but then again, Freddy wasn't my brainchild and magnum opus, so I guess I don't get to say boo. Regardless, NEW NIGHTMARE is a pretty ingenious way to reboot the series after Freddy's much publicized 1991 'death.'

I suppose this sort of thing had been done before (Lucio Fulci claimed that it ripped off CAT IN THE BRAIN), but never on quite such a scale. (Unfortunately, Craven's subsequent meta-effort SCREAM ensured that lower quality, postmodern, wink n' nod horror would stick around for some time.) The self-reflexivity goes nutballs, and in the best possible ways- Wes types his own script as it plays out on our screen:

Robert Englund appears as himself and makes nearly Fosse-esque jazz hands as mesmerized fans chant 'Fred-dy, Fred-dy':

FRED-DY, FRED-DY

and Heather Langenkamp tries to keep her son from seeing the first NIGHTMARE on TV. I love that in this alternate reality, ten years after the fact, all the original NIGHTMARE cast members still hang out on a regular basis. And you have to delight in the fact that the real Krueger (credited as 'himself') is supposed to be an eons-old demon kept at bay by the sequels! (So A NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET 5: THE DREAM CHILD served some important existential purpose after all!) There's a certain loopy brilliance to the proceedings, and a few actual scares, but there's something about it that never quite blossoms into the masterpiece it might have been (maybe it's Miko Hughes- John's son and the epitome of 'corporate child actor').

Still, there's a genuine power to certain scenes, like when reality fleetingly bleeds away and John Saxon and Heather become father and daughter once more...

Four stars.

Side note: The film also receives bonus points for using music from Wim Wenders' WINGS OF DESIRE in its trailer!

-Sean Gill

Film Review: A NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET (1984, Wes Craven)

Stars: 5 of 5.
Running Time: 91 minutes.
Notable Cast or Crew: John Saxon (TENEBRE, ENTER THE DRAGON), Ronee Blakley (NASHVILLE, THE DRIVER), Heather Langenkamp (GROWING PAINS, SHOCKER, NEW NIGHTMARE), Johnny Depp (CRY-BABY, DEAD MAN), Charles Fleischer (DEADLY FRIEND, ZODIAC), Robert Englund (ST. IVES, EATEN ALIVE, DEAD & BURIED), Amanda Wyss (BETTER OFF DEAD, POWWOW HIGHWAY), Jsu Garcia (GOTCHA!, WE WERE SOLDIERS). Cinematography by Jacques Haitkin (THE HIDDEN, CHERRY 2000). Head makeup effects by David B. Miller (THE BEASTMASTER, COCOON, WILD AT HEART). Music by Charles Bernstein (MR. MAJESTYK, DEADLY FRIEND).
Tag-line: "If Nancy Doesn't Wake Up Screaming She Won't Wake Up At All..."
Best one-liner: "Okay Krueger, we play in your court!"

There was a time when Freddy wasn't plastered on squirt guns, board games, nite lights, novelty albums, squish-'ems, pinball machines, and yo-yos.
There was a time when Freddy was scary as shit.

He wasn't a one-liner dropping contrivance- he was a terrifying burn victim and possible-pedophile who had the confounding power to haunt kids' dreams from beyond the grave. He wasn't all powerful, not by a long shot: in a toe-to-toe wrestling match between him and a high school girl (which actually happens several times in this film), the girl has a pretty good chance of kicking Freddy's raggedy ass. The existentially frustrating thing here is that Freddy cheats.

Even as the hall monitor.

He gets you when you're at your most vulnerable, your least aware- in the sweet ark of slumber. And more often than not, Craven shows Freddy's attacks from the outside- the sleeping victim thrashing about, slashed and beaten- we can only imagine what's happening in their world, and that's truly frightening. The cast is solid- Heather Langenkamp is our heroine (and a far cry from the CW douches on summer hiatus who star in today's horror), John Saxon (a Bava/Argento alum) is the no-nonsense cop dad, Ronee Blakley is the habitually loaded alky mom (watch for her hidden booze stashes), Johnny Depp is the boyfriend (even at this young age making some impressively bizarre acting choices), and, of course, Robert Englund is Krueger- a sheer force of malicious exuberance.

The visuals are startlingly potent- Freddy's arms extending to an impossible length:

a bed swallowing a victim and spewing a sanguinary geyser, a spectral form emerging from a rubbery wall:

a Cronenbergian face-lickin' phone:

or a girl chased up the steps as the carpet transforms into bemiring white goop. All of this is pre-CGI, and, in fact, is frequently visualized by extremely primitive means- its effectiveness remains a credit to the conceptual hotbed of primal fears and visceral anxieties that (ex-Humanities professor) Craven dips into. This is focused, forceful storytelling at its best. Five stars.

-Sean Gill