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.

Theater Review: JIM STEINMAN'S BAT OUT OF HELL––THE MUSICAL (2019, New York City Centre)

Bats: 5 of 5.

Running Time: 165 minutes, including intermission and curtain call.

I don't usually write theater reviews, but I think you'll see why I made an exception for BAT OUT OF HELL––THE MUSICAL.

Sure, there might not actually be bats in this show. Hell, there might not even be Hell. I guess we do get to see a projection of flames after a certain character dies, but I hardly think that counts. Consider this: all I wanted out of this show was to see a motorcycle being swarmed by bats as it was launched out of Satan's lava-spewin' jaws. Remarkably, the show does not deliver on this tableau, and yet it still stirred the depths of my soul. That probably had something to do with it being, essentially, as if Ken Russell and David Lynch had co-directed Samuel Beckett's porn parody adaptation of the "Dancing With Myself" music video. If I didn't know better, I'd think that somebody had been reading my 1990: BRONX WARRIORS / RETURN OF THE LIVING DEAD 3 / ESCAPE FROM NEW YORK fan-fiction.
 
Courtesy of Specular

I don't understand why there haven't been more musicals inspired by Cannon Films' CYBORG (right on down to characters being named for famous guitars). Or why the visual vocabulary of early '80s local access cable, abandoned Eastern Bloc discotheques, cyberpunk rec rooms, and Jersey biker bar parking lots are so rarely combined. Or why more characters named Jaguar don't spell it like "Jagwire." I don't understand critics who are unsatisfied with the answer to every dramaturgical question being: "cocaine... and fever dreams."

Courtesy of Little Fang Photo

Don't walk––hell, don't even run––glide on a slow-moving motorcycle across a fog bank straight to this show. A good drinking game might be every time there is a Peter Pan reference. Or each time someone "offers their throat to the wolf with red roses." Or whenever someone collapses completely, limp in a melodramatic frenzy.

A part of me will be at this show forever. To paraphrase THE GRAPES OF WRATH: "I'll be in the dark. Wherever you look. Wherever there's a futuristic riot cop beatin' up a post-apocalyptic street urchin, I'll be there. I'll be in the way undead (?) kids laugh when they're hungry an' they know supper's ready at the weird sewer dive bar they hang out at. An' when folks are doing open mic poetry night in the skyscrapers they build––why, I'll be there, too. Wherever there's a plutocrat-with-a-heart-of-gold struggling against the tide to name what part of his body hurts the most, I'll be there. I'll be there during the power ballads, and, um, I guess during the regular ballads, too. Wherever there's a Bridge n' Tunneler in the audience fondly mumbling along to 'Paradise by the Dashboard Light,' I'll be there. And whenever a kid gets so frustrated by their parents' adolescent sexual fumblings that they rip the engine block out of a car and hurl it into the orchestra pit... I will definitely, definitely be there."

Only now does it occur to me... HARD BOILED (1992)

Only now does it occur to me... that John Woo is not merely a master of action, but a master of "character exposition." Within the first twenty-eight seconds of HARD BOILED, we learn everything we need to know about Chow Yun-Fat's "Inspector Tequila."

First, we learn that his favorite beverage is the "Tequila Slam," which is apparently a real thing. That would be "well tequila" (the kind that only occasionally comes in a glass bottle),

and seltzer water

covered with a paper napkin and slammed against the bar––a maneuver that is perhaps intended to showcase the performative "badass fizz" aspect but as a result spills nearly half the drink; it is satisfying perhaps to Inspector Tequila in the moment, but something of an inconvenience for a neat-freak bartender.

Amazingly, this is a fitting analogy for Inspector Tequila's fearlessly stylish-yet-sloppy methods of policework. (Though it is less elegant than the "Travis Bickle calmly stares at his own alka-seltzer while quietly boiling on the inside" scene in TAXI DRIVER, this is from the director who first brought us JCVD punching a snake, so let's cut him some slack.)

Anyway, Inspector Tequila knocks back the drink,

sets it down, and slides––in one fluid movement––back to a stool on a stage,

where he proceeds to play a mean jazz clarinet. John Woo seems to say, "Inspector Tequila is a rough-and-tumble individual, but he has a soft side––as velvety smooth as a clarinet playing 'Sweet Georgia Brown' at an Elks Lodge in Missoula, Montana for a crowd of slow-dancing geriatrics."

But this ain't no Elks Lodge in Missoula––these are the mean streets of Hong Kong, circa 1992, as could only imagined by John Woo's slo-mo bullet-ballet-addled brain!

Let's move ahead three minutes in time. See those two guys, Inspector Tequila?

The ones with the bird cages?

If you, as an audience member, at first glance, don't make the assessment that yes, those bird cages are probably filled with guns, then you, my friend, are watching the wrong movie.

Inspector Tequila is an astute observer of the human animal, unlike yourself.

All of this is essentially a set-up for over two hours of two-fisted acrobatic gunplay and incredible non-union stuntwork,

all in Woo's distinctive "Peckinpah-meets-Shaw-Brothers-meets-screwy-Jean-Pierre-Melville" style, which went on to birth THE MATRIX, Robert Rodriguez, and any number of contemporary action films and directors.

I love HARD BOILED. I love typing the words "Inspector Tequila." And perhaps most of all, I love this nearly three minute long shot that involves so many moving parts, actors, stuntmen, and explosions, that it defies reason:

Only now does it occur to me... SUPERMAN III

Only now does it occur to me...  oh, well allow me to explain.  I saw SUPERMAN III when I was kid, and while I successfully blocked most of it out, I definitely remembered sequences like "good Superman vs. evil Superman in the junkyard" and "villainous businesswoman transformed into robot" and "ski slope on top of skyscraper" and "Superman being a dick and ruining the Olympics."  You know, all the important stuff.  

Anyway, I decided (I don't know what got into me) to revisit this fine flick the other day, and was struck by the absolute lunacy of one scene in particular, so, here goes:  

Only now does it occur to me... that there is a scene in SUPERMAN III whereupon Richard Pryor, clad in a twenty-gallon foam cowboy hat, unveils a suitcase full of booze (including Kingsley Amis' favorite gin, Booth's)

and commences to get security guard Gavan O'Herlihy (the legendary reverse-mohawk'd villain Fraker from DEATH WISH 3) drunk as a skunk

so that he (Pryor) can hack into a computer and alter the orbit of a weather satellite so that he can ruin a crop of Columbian coffee because he's been blackmailed into doing so by Robert Vaughn who wants some petty revenge?!

And did I mention that all of this is accompanied by an instrumental version Roger Williams' Euro-pop-meets-country-western hit "They Won't Get Me," produced and synthesized by none other than sunglasses-wearing Italian madman Giorgio Moroder?  Madness, I tell you!

Film Review: BRONCO BILLY (1980, Clint Eastwood)

Stars: 4 of 5.

Running Time: 116 minutes.

Notable Cast or Crew:  Clint Eastwood, Sondra Locke (THE GAUNTLET, SUDDEN IMPACT), Geoffrey Lewis (DOUBLE IMPACT, MIDNIGHT IN THE GARDEN OF GOOD AND EVIL), Scatman Crothers (ZAPPED!, THE SHINING), Bill McKinney (THE GREEN MILE, DELIVERANCE), Sam Bottoms (APOCALYPSE NOW, THE LAST PICTURE SHOW), George Wendt (HOUSE, CHEERS), and Merle Haggard.  Cinematography by David Worth (BLOODSPORT, director of KICKBOXER).

Tag-line: "The most outrageous of 'em all."

Best one-liner:  "We're barroom buddies and that's the best kind..."

I'm not gonna lie: I had some pretty low expectations for BRONCO BILLY.  Its always sat at the back of my unwatched Eastwood pile, keeping films like PINK CADILLAC and CITY HEAT company.  (Now that I've actually seen the thing, I guess we can stuff TROUBLE WITH THE CURVE back there in its old spot.)  Anyway, my point is this:  BRONCO BILLY is actually a good movie.  It's low key and occasionally goofy, but overall it's a strong, dramatic ensemble piece that effortlessly (sort of Howard Hawks by way of Robert Altman) recreates the atmosphere and camaraderie of what it's like to make your way in the world with a group of traveling players.

The players in question are Bronco Billy (Eastwood) and company, a touring old-timey Wild West show in an era (1980) that may have outgrown them.  Bronco Billy hasn't paid his crew (who include Scatman Crothers, Bill McKinney, and Sam Bottoms, among others) in ages, and their ramshackle show sometimes plays to crowds in the single digits.  Billy can't get female assistants to stick around for more than one performance (there's plenty of knife and horse tricks that go easily awry), local law enforcement's bustin' their balls, and things in general simply ain't lookin' too good for the gang.  At least not until they meet a stranded rich lady with a heart of gold (Sondra Locke, Clint's real-life girlfriend at the time) and a whole variety of zany, salt of the earth characters along the way.
This film is also notable, because it may have been the first time that the upper echelon of the critical establishment began to take Clint's films seriously: it garnered a special screening at the Museum of Modern Art.

Anyway, let's get right down to brass tacks:  here's eleven reasons why you should consider joinin' up with BRONCO BILLY and the gang:

1.  "Barroom Buddies."

The subtle majesty of the classic duet as performed by Merle Haggard and Clint Eastwood is truly something to behold.  Here, Clint sings along with Merle on the radio, much to the chagrin of Sondra Locke and a snoozing Scatman Crothers.  The simple joys of this kind of raggedy friendship are what "Barroom Buddies" and this film are really about–  "We're barroom buddies and that's the best kind, nobody fools with a buddy of mine– I laugh when you're happy, and I cry when you're blue-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoooooooooooooooooo!"  Simply poetry.


2. Post-coital "Barroom Buddies."

 After a wild night with Clint, Sondra Locke awakens the next morning, alone, dreamily singing "Barroom Buddies," a cappella, to herself.  This is patently insane, and I appreciate it.

3.  Speakin' of barroom buddies, look- it's Normie!  The original barroom buddy!  He's lookin' a little slimmer than usual, and he's got unexpected sideburns, but that's an uncredited George Wendt, all right.

Hopefully there's enough CHEERS fans around to appreciate the fact that in this universe, Wendt tends bar, instead of functioning as the sort of ultimate, beer-swilling, one-liner quipping barfly.  He even razzes Scatman Crothers about paying his tab; interesting since Norm never pays for a beer in the entirety of CHEERS unless he absolutely has to (his enormous tab is a constant source of amusement).   Also, the whole Clint & Sondra romance here has a real proto-Sam & Diane vibe to it, as well.  Anyway, yeah... CHEERS, ladies and gentlemen.

4.  Continuing on this tangent– the mood of the film is fantastic.  It's a little straighter and squarer than URBAN COWBOY, say, but that's fine too.  Smoky bars, wood-paneling, cheap beers,
 
barroom brawls worthy of a Burt Reynolds movie, and a place where the goddamn house band is Merle Haggard himself!
 


5.  The custom revolver door handles on Clint's car. 

If you can't appreciate the inherent genius and trashiness of it all, then you probably shouldn't be watching BRONCO BILLY anyway.

6.  This can't really be illustrated by a screencap, but at one point, Clint and the gang make a stopover at a mental hospital.  One of the night shift guards can be heard whistling Eddie Rabbit's wondrous theme song to "Every Which Way But Loose."  This, A: made me really happy, B: caused the song to be stuck in my head for several hours afterward, and C: reminded me that I really need to get around to reviewing the EVERY WHICH WAY BUT LOOSE novelization.

7.  Classic Eastwood crony Geoffrey Lewis.

He's a serious old-school country boy character actor in the vein of Bruce Glover, M. Emmet Walsh, and Joe Don Baker.  He's collaborated with Eastwood seven times, fathered Juliette Lewis (!), and always delivers offbeat, nuanced performances.  Playing Sondra Locke's ex, he's sort of a kooky antagonist throughout the piece, and he gets a lot of great glowering reaction shots.

8.  Scatman Crothers.

1980 was a good year for Scatman (see also:  THE SHINING and LAVERNE & SHIRLEY), and he personally rated BRONCO BILLY as one of his favorite performances.  As a quack doctor and the master of ceremonies, he brings a positive energy to the piece that makes the brotherhood of the troupe all the more believable.

9.  Rotating balloon-target POV in the knife-throwing sequences.

'Cause who doesn't like this sort of thing?

10.  Seems like Clint has to save Sondra Locke from getting raped in almost every movie (see also: THE OUTLAW JOSEY WALES)? It's getting pathological by this point. This entry in particular refers to the absurdly deranged expression upon Eastwood's face as he pulls a would-be rapist off of Ms. Locke (of course this leads immediately to a Philo Beddoe-esque parking lot brawl).

11.  Art imitates life: aka, Clint's a cheapskate.
I've heard on multiple occasions (most thoroughly in Sondra Locke's tell-all, THE GOOD, THE BAD, AND THE VERY UGLY and Patrick McGilligan's CLINT: THE LIFE AND LEGEND) that Clint is something of a real Scrooge McDuckin', penny-pinchin' cheapskate.  I'm not here to sling mud, but it seems that Clint's pretty self-aware of this, and in fact inserts references to it throughout his canon.  (The first that comes to mind is in DIRTY HARRY, when he doesn't want his expensive pants cut with scissors by the doctors trying to treat his bullet wound: "For $29.50, let it hurt.")  Well, here in BRONCO BILLY, we get Clint hassling Sondra Locke and deducting a dime from her paycheck when she needs to make a phone call.  Then there's the big robbery scene, whereupon two hoodlums stick up a country bank and Bronco Billy, with his trick shooting prowess, blasts their weapons out of their hands and saves the day.  But what is it that pushes him over the edge and into action?  It's when he sees the robbers shove a little boy, whose piggy bank explodes onto the floor, and the pennies go everywhere.

I'm going to choose to believe that it's not violence against the child– it's the sight of all those sweet, sweet pennies that gets his blood up.  In fact, later in the film, we learn that Billy and his gang are almost all ex-convicts, and they later even attempt a half-hearted train robbery.  So Billy's not against robbery in general– he simply was distraught because (and I'm going to paraphrase a Man with No Name quote from THE GOOD, THE BAD, AND THE UGLY)  "I've never seen so many pennies, wasted so badly."

In closing, BRONCO BILLY's a wonderful little Western slice of life that proceeds at its own pace and charms you with its scruffy, wood-paneled, Barroom Buddy charisma.