Only now does it occur to me... DANIELLE STEEL'S FAMILY ALBUM (1994)

Only now does it occur to me... to say a few words about the 1994 NBC miniseries DANIELLE STEEL'S FAMILY ALBUM. I must admit that I sought this out entirely to explore John Waters' role as "Vincent," an appearance so apparently obscure that I could not find a single image to prove the existence of his involvement on the entire internet. Not a one! He mentioned the project by name in a few interviews, but to me, it became one of the most intriguing omissions in his filmography. (Worry not, in the end, I shall provide you with a video of his entire performance.) But first, what even is this thing?

FAMILY ALBUM is adapted from the 1985 Danielle Steel novel of the same name (one of over 140 novels she has written), and it tells the epic, four-decade saga of a 1950s Hollywood actress who decides to break the mold and become a film director. In the process, it basically tells a fictionalized version of the life of Ida Lupino.

Our Lupino stand-in is CHARLIE'S ANGELS' own Jaclyn Smith as "Faye Price":

 

and her brow-furrowing husband, "Ward Thayer," is played by TWIN PEAKS' own Michael Ontkean:

 

Honestly, this is all a little better than it should be, though it's still a pretty long three hours and twenty minutes and very indicative of pre-prestige 1990s soapy network "two evening event"-style television.

Where does John Waters fit in? Well, Faye's daughter (played by Leslie Horan) is trying to break into the movies without using any of her mother's connections. She finds an "in" with a horror filmmaker who is sort of a sleazier William Castle/Tobe Hooper/Wes Craven-type making a CREATURE FROM THE BLACK LAGOON/SWAMP THING-inflected movie in the 1970s. This filmmaker, "Vincent"––surely named for Vincent Price, given who's playing him––is portrayed by John Waters. He spends his single minute of screentime attempting to pressure his leading lady into doing nudity in the picture ("What's the big deal about showing some skin, it's an art film, it could go to Cannes, it's my best work!").

So there you have it. Mystery solved! John Waters in DANIELLE STEEL'S FAMILY ALBUM, ladies and gentlemen:

Sean Gill's "The Mysterious Ecstasy of Ken Griffey Jr. Presents Major League Baseball for Super Nintendo" in Hobart

My latest essay, "The Mysterious Ecstasy of Ken Griffey Jr. Presents Major League Baseball for Super Nintendo," chronicles the delightfully bizarre cultural connections (involving the likes of Stephen King, John Waters, Judy Garland, Werner Herzog, etc.) that exist in the vintage SNES baseball game. It's just been published by the literary journal Hobart, and you can read it online here.

Film Review: HOMER AND EDDIE (1989, Andrei Konchalovsky)

Stars: 2.2 of 5.
Running Time: 102 minutes.
Notable Cast or Crew: James Belushi, Whoopi Goldberg, John Waters (director of PINK FLAMINGOS and SERIAL MOM), Anne Ramsey (THE GOONIES, DEADLY FRIEND), Mickey Jones (TOTAL RECALL, EXTREME PREJUDICE), Karen Black (FIVE EASY PIECES, INVADERS FROM MARS), Vincent Schiavelli (ONE FLEW OVER THE CUCKOO'S NEST, LORD OF ILLUSIONS), Tracey Walter (REPO MAN, MORTUARY ACADEMY), 'Tiny' Lister (EXTREME PREJUDICE, JACKIE BROWN), Pruitt Taylor Vince (NATURAL BORN KILLERS, WILD AT HEART), Wayne Grace (DANCES WITH WOLVES, MULHOLLAND DR.), Robert Glaudini (CUTTING CLASS; GRUNT! THE WRESTLING MOVIE).
Tag-line: "She's ruthless - He's witless - They're on the road together and falling apart at the seams!"
Best one-liner: "What the fuck is a brain stem?"

Sometimes when I can't tell if a film is supposed to be a comedy or a drama, and James Belushi happens to be in it, all I have to do is look at his credit: if it says 'Jim' (SNOW DOGS, CANADIAN BACON, ABRAXIS: GUARDIAN OF THE UNIVERSE, JUMPIN' JACK FLASH) it's probably intended to be a comedy, and if it says 'James' (SALVADOR, WILD PALMS, THIEF), it probably means that he wants to be taken seriously. HOMER AND EDDIE is a film which pendulates wildly between the full on-whacky and the quasi-profound, but for the record, he's credited as 'James.'

A lot of 70's and 80's movies struggle to maintain a consistent tone (INTO THE NIGHT, THE END, FREEBIE AND THE BEAN, SOMETHING WILD, HOWARD THE DUCK, and STROKER ACE come to mind), establishing themselves as Zany with a capital Z, and then pulling the rug out with something that's Heavy with a capital H. It's not to say that this will derail an entire film, or that tonal shifts can't be done well (see the Coens, David Lynch, et al.), but it's possible that two disparate tones have never been quite so at odds with one another as is the case in HOMER AND EDDIE. For example, we follow up a disquieting scene with a terminally ill woman smashing her head into a bathroom mirror...

...with one that involves hootin' n' hollerin' whilst driving past a bus full of nubile cheerleaders while set to peppy 80' grooves. A serious theological discussion that ends with Whoopi screaming, in all seriousness, "THERE AIN'T NO FUCKING GOD!" is followed by a fix-em-up montage set to tender guitar and wailin', sultry saxophone.

Directed by the writer of IVAN'S CHILDHOOD and ANDREI RUBLEV (!) and Cannon Films director-in-residence (RUNAWAY TRAIN, MARIA'S LOVERS, SHY PEOPLE) Andrei Konchalovsky, HOMER AND EDDIE is the tale of a brain-damaged man-child (James Belushi) and a brain-tumored sociopath (Whoopi Goldberg) who join forces and go on a West Coast road trip in search of the meaning of life, the meaning of family, and a missing eighty-seven dollars.

In short, it's a coming of age drama, a zany buddy-trip flick, an on-the-lam crime thriller, a fish out of water story, a Depression-era throwback (that's kind of a 1980's OF MICE AND MEN), a sex farce, and a cult movie. It's like somebody thought that combining RAIN MAN, SOMETHING WILD, and PEE-WEE'S BIG ADVENTURE would in some way be a good idea.
[The only movies of the era I can think of which can properly pull off the Americana road trip scenario along with flashes of beauty and violence and comedy and pathos are Jim Jarmusch's MYSTERY TRAIN and David Lynch's WILD AT HEART.]

Our leads do a pretty good job of 'running it up the flagpole,' so to speak. Belushi tries his hardest to pull off 'lovable, mentally disabled man.' The fact that I didn't find it entirely offensive is a tremendous credit to Belushi's acting chops.

I became something of a latter-day Whoopi fan only after seeing her performance in FATAL BEAUTY, and she's pretty amusing here, rampaging about and robbing people and uttering rejoinders such as "You're like Frankenstein and shit!" She anchors the erratic and ridiculous character with enough humanity that I was never actively pissed at her, and again, that is something of an achievement. You know a film is not hitting it's mark when I have to compliment it in terms 'what was not actively aggravating me.'

When you'd fear that all hope is lost- in a twist that really blew my mind– there's a goddamned parade of iconic cult actors in bit parts. Just look at this rogue's gallery:

Michael Ironside's best bud and ex-Bob-Dylan-drummer Mickey Jones as a redneck manhandled by Whoopi in a diner:


Legendary melancholy-faced character actor Vincent Schiavelli as a priest who refuses to grant Whoopi absolution for murder:


Former wrestler and action film standby Tommy 'Tiny' Lister as a heat-packin' clubgoer begrudingly won over by Belushi's cutesyness:


Crabby acting icon Anne Ramsey as a grizzled convenience store owner keeping an eagle eye out for shoplifters:


70's giant Karen Black as the insane madam of a low-rent, Southwestern, tin-shed whorehouse:


Pruitt Taylor Vince as an unlucky liquor store owner:


Director John Waters as a scampish highwayman who declares "Move it, maggot!":


And cult actor extraordinaire Tracey Walter as a stuttering cop and boyhood friend of Belushi.


Whew! In closing, I still like Konchalovsky. RUNAWAY TRAIN remains an all-time favorite, and HOMER AND EDDIE is by no means a terrible film, it's merely a misguided one. Probably the most inspired bit of work done on the film is by sometime Golan-Globus and Full Moon Pictures casting director Robert MacDonald (BARFLY, MURPHY'S LAW, RUNAWAY TRAIN, AMERICAN NINJA, TEXAS CHAINSAW MASSACRE 2, THE PIT AND THE PENDULUM, SUBSPECIES, CASTLE FREAK, TRANCERS II) who assembled enough eclectic performers and bizarro cameos to really keep things interesting, even if it was something along the lines of 'What notorious cult performer will pop up next?!'

For its status as a (misconceived) labor of love and a treasure trove of unexpected personalities: a little over two stars.

-Sean Gill

Film Review: CRY-BABY (1990, John Waters)

Stars: 4.6 of 5.
Running Time: 91 minutes.
Notable Cast or Crew: Johnny Depp, Amy Locane (SECRETARY, AIRHEADS), Susan Tyrrell (FORBIDDEN ZONE, FAT CITY, FLESH + BLOOD), Polly Bergen (CAPE FEAR '62, THE MEN), Iggy Pop, Ricki Lake (HAIRSPRAY, SERIAL MOM), Traci Lords (VIRTUOUSITY, SERIAL MOM), Kim McGuire (SERIAL MOM, David Lynch's ON THE AIR), Willem Dafoe, Joe Dallesandro (THE LIMEY, FLESH, BLOOD FOR DRACULA), Mink Stole (PINK FLAMINGOS, DESPERATE LIVING, LOST HIGHWAY), Troy Donahue (IMITATION OF LIFE, COCKFIGHTER), Joey Heatherton (BLUEBEARD, THE HAPPY HOOKER GOES TO WASHINGTON), and Patty Hearst in her fiction film debut.
Tag-lines: "Too young to be square... Too tough to be shocked... Too late to be saved..."
Best one-liner: "Let's all put on a folk hat and learn something about a foreign culture!" (said by Patty Hearst) or perhaps "Woo-Wee, you caught me in my birthday suit, butt-naked" (said by Iggy Pop).

Psuedo-commercial John Waters (PECKER, SERIAL MOM) is not necessarily better than shoestringy, gutter sleaze John Waters (FEMALE TROUBLE, DESPERATE LIVING), they're just different- much like, say, the difference between TWIN PEAKS-Lynch and INLAND EMPIRE-Lynch. Some artists flourish under constraints (you can't show Divine devouring dog stools or Liz Renay getting rabies in the ass in a PG-13 film), and Waters is creative enough to make a film which nominally pleases the mainstream, yet is still deliciously infested with his trademarked pervy pizazz. This film is an oddball tour de force of sheer, ludicrous delights from a tittering, perfidious sewer rat to a devout Joe Dallesandro zealously bellowing "Let Jesus Christ be your gang-leader!" into a megaphone (as Joey Heatherton shudders beside him in a pious frenzy)-

In short, CRY-BABY is the bee's knees. It's Drapes vs. Squares, forbidden love, a 10th-rate Baltimore Disneyland, rockabilly concerts, an orphanage jailbreak, an epic “chicken” duel and an amalgamation of everything that Waters loves about the 1950's from JAILHOUSE ROCK to TEENAGE GANG DEBS.



The bizarro performances range from the hammy to the outré. Johnny Depp transforms the act of frequent, stoic weeping into something worthy of Tiger Beat magazine.

The legendary Susan Tyrrell (FAT CITY), while wearing a taxidermy bird helmet, sputters and chortles and emotes and blows away "goddamn gophers." It’s a work of mad genius and truly a sight to behold.

Tyrrell's trademark cackle.


Tyrrell and Pop. Best onscreen couple since Tyrrell and Rutger Hauer in FLESH + BLOOD. Who were the best onscreen couple since Tyrrell and Hervé 'Ze Plane' Villechaize in FORBIDDEN ZONE. Who were the best onscreen couple since Tyrrell and Stacy Keach in FAT CITY.

Iggy Pop is her husband, bathing himself in a wooden tub on the lawn and being an all-around good sport. Amy Locane embraces a sort of 'young Kathleen Turner' aesthetic, and Waters' two favorite pariahs (Traci Lords and Patty Hearst) exude, respectively, pose-worthy sass and adorable gullibility. Mink Stole speaks in tongues, and there's a 3-D moviegoing experience that'd make William Castle proud:

Willem Dafoe even appears for an ass-slapping cameo as a sleazoid, country-drawlin' prison guard.

"We gonna give you a haircut, pretty boy!"



By gum, this shit is great. Nearly five stars.

-Sean Gill

Theater Review: A JOHN WATERS CHRISTMAS (2009, John Waters)

Stars: 5 of 5.
Running Time: Approx. 65 minutes.
Notable Cast or Crew: John Waters.
Best one-liner: "Let's talk about the Easter Bunny...I hate the fucker. What sex is the Easter Bunny? You know, you see the Easter Bunny in malls, not that many people do it. You can tell they don't even care, because they don't even clean the outfits, they have mold on them, they don't even send them to the cleaners. It's some poor woman, usually, another step backwards for feminism, because...the Easter Bunny is the ultimate bottom, really. And not a good bottom. Not a greedy bottom, not a bossy bottom, but an impotent, powerless bottom that no childhood hero could ever top. And Easter is an S&M holiday, anyway..."


I'm a Halloween guy. Thus, I'm pretty resistant to all things Christmas, and especially resistant to people who adore all things Christmas. My general stance on the holiday is that only Michael Ironside should be allowed to dress up as Santa and only Wham! should be allowed to release Christmas albums. (I would also permit Bruce Willis to release one, should he decide to revisit the whole RETURN OF BRUNO concept.) I suppose I also embrace the slew of action movies (TRANCERS, RENT-A-COP, LETHAL WEAPON, DIE HARD, KISS KISS BANG BANG, et al.) that use Christmas as a piffling backdrop for Gary Busey putting Mel Gibson in a headlock or Burt Reynolds using "Merry Christmas" as a one-liner or, shit, even William Powell drinking like forty-seven martinis and punching out his wife (ostensibly, in order to save her). Regardless, I shall now update my stance– John Waters is permitted to enjoy the holiday.

His kitschy selections of off-the-beaten-path carols (from Fat Daddy to Little Cindy to Alvin and the Chipmunks) have yielded a well-known compilation album entitled A JOHN WATERS CHRISTMAS. He has an accompanying monologue show as well, one that I had heard of, but had never been lucky enough to attend until this year. The man is endlessly entertaining and full of this lively, benevolently perverse energy- you can't help but to have a bemused grin on your face the instant he comes on stage- before he's even said anything. And as soon as he begins, hold on tight– he delivers a whirlwind of relentless anecdotes, wisecracks, ruminations, and obsessions- which, for me, rival (if not eclipse) canonical masters of the art form like Spalding Gray.

He recalls, as a child, how he wanted to sit on William Castle's lap instead of Santa Claus'; the juvenile thrill of breaking in and opening strangers' presents; his deviant zest for Alvin and the Chipmunks (including, but not limited to, him wearing Alvin's giant "A"-emblazoned hoody to a theater full of children attending a CHIPMUNKS screening); his extreme loathing of gift cards and the people who give them; his deep-rooted hatred of the Easter Bunny as a holiday mascot (see above); and his desire to have his own amusement park and freak show and 'abortion movie' film festival (he wants to wear costumes and shout out dialogue for 4 MONTHS, THREE WEEKS, AND 2 DAYS). He recounted fond memories of Divine; spoke of his hopes for a possibly upcoming HAIRSPRAY 2 and his own long-anticipated Christmas movie, FRUITCAKE; and made many obscure self-references to a crowd whom I doubt had even heard of, much less seen, films like MULTIPLE MANIACS or ROMAN CANDLES. In short, this thing is fantastic. (And I've hardly even scratched the surface.) Five stars.


The fact that John Waters is my new best bud did not cloud the judgment of this review.

-Sean Gill