I don’t like raw tomatoes. I like ketchup, spaghetti and pizza sauce,
barbecue sauce, salsa (figure that one out) and so forth, but raw tomatoes give
me fits. Pizzas with slices of tomato on
top are gross to me. Getting a burger
with tomato on it is almost as bad as getting one with pickles and mustard
(don’t get me started). Maybe it’s the
smell of tomatoes. They always have a
slightly rotten scent, at least to my nose.
Still, I respect this odd little fruit, more for what can be done with
it than for what it is in its natural state.
For example, if you ever fuse some aluminum foil to the bottom of your
oven, put some ketchup on the spot and let it sit for a while. The acid in the tomatoes and vinegar eats the
foil, and you can usually clean it up pretty easily (there’s your pro tip for
the day). I wouldn’t say that my
reaction to tomatoes is quite on par with that of the characters in John De Bello’s (not to be confused
with DJ John DeBella) Return of the Killer Tomatoes, but it’s
not terribly far off, either. Maybe this
was the impetus for the idea in the first place? The world holds its breath.
The evil Dr. Gangreen (John Astin) plans to take over the Earth
with his (literally) homegrown army of tomato men (who all resemble a certain Sylvester Stallone character). Complicating matters is the young Chad (Anthony Starke) who falls in love with
Tara Boumdeay (Karen Mistal, whom I
fondly recall from The New Adventures of
Beans Baxter, first and foremost; I don’t know about you), arguably one of
the sexier creations to emerge from the bad doctor’s apparatus.
Arrow Films have released yet
another great edition of a film which, at first blush, may not have been most
people’s first choice for bluray upgrade.
Aside from the fantastic transfer (featuring the original uncompressed
stereo mix), there is also a nice interview with star Starke (to no one’s surprise, George
Clooney, here in one of his earliest feature films, didn’t participate in
this release). As usual, the slip cover
art is reversible with a new piece by artist Matthew Griffin on one side and the original poster art on the
other. Further, there’s a booklet featuring
writing by James Oliver. I honestly don’t know how you can expect
more, especially from a film of this caliber.
When I first saw this film, I
believe it was on USA Up All Night
(hopefully one of the episodes hosted by Caroline
Schlitt; I just was never that much into Rhonda Shear, sorry), and I recall thinking that it was pretty much
a waste of time. I had, of course, seen Attack of the Killer Tomatoes, and it
was a favorite of mine way back when, but with the sequel, things had
changed. The original was a send-up of
Fifties monster movies, more or less.
Here, it’s a love story, albeit a very odd one. Yet, it still pays homage to Sci Fi and
Horror (and even a little Film Noir) movies of the Forties and Fifties. Gangreen’s lair is a classic mad scientist
lab with lots of bubbling beakers, archaic power switches, and so on. Astin
plays Gangreen like any number of arch villains of that bygone time, his hair
bedraggled, his mannerisms both manic and pseudo-rational. There is panic in the streets whenever a
tomato rears its ugly head, calling back to scenes from crowds running from
monsters in the Godzilla franchise, etcetera.
When Tara first appears, she’s
framed in a doorway with smoke billowing out behind her. Some Noir-y sax plays on the soundtrack. She’s a perfect femme fatale for the Eighties. In fact, her character is a satire of the
classic portrayal of feminine domesticity of the Fifties. She’s always dressed up in chic gowns and outfits
while she does housework. She says that two
of the three things she does very well is cook and clean. The third is sex, and this points to how
women were broadly viewed way back when as simultaneous servants and objects of
desire (this is a blanket statement; of course, there were strong women and
women’s roles, but this film is very general in its reference to a general
viewpoint, i.e. “the perfect woman”).
Interestingly, Tara is open about sex.
When she first approaches Chad, she asks if he wants to make love. It’s Chad who doesn’t immediately jump at the
chance, being a “virtuous” kind of guy (have no fear, this hurdle is quickly
surmounted by our hero). Later, Tara
says that “sex is good, sex is normal.” Moreover,
she’s not afraid to get a bit kinky, eyeing a pair of handcuffs in a sex shop
like she may a new set of pots and pans.
The big change in the film takes place with Chad, who has to adjust his
worldview about tomatoes (both fruit and women), sex, and modern relationships. Tara, a relic of the past, is the arbiter of
this, ironically enough.
The thing I found most charming
about Return of the Killer Tomatoes
on this second viewing isn’t its sillier moments but its more absurdist ones, specifically,
its self-reflexivity. De Bello and company constantly refer
to the fact that this is just a movie, and you’re supposed to be having
fun. The film opens with a television
host introducing the film (mistakenly, the picture that starts rolling is Big Breasted Girls Go to the Beach and Take
Their Tops Off). Later, said host
will intervene in the middle of a scene with “the” word of the day so some
viewer can win the $9.22 prize. Most
inventive, however, is the product placement gag that comes about halfway
through the runtime. The director calls “cut”
and states that they don’t have enough money to finish the movie. Clooney
(as Clooney) says that the solution
is product placement. The rest of the
film contains flagrant instances of this practice, with everything from
Moosehead beer to Crest toothpaste to Oh Henry! candy bars being shilled. This visibly irritates the actors who have to
deliver ridiculous dialogue to sell this crap.
For my money, it’s these more subversively self-conscious elements that
play way better than any of the more sophomoric ones (though I do have a
certain appreciation for those as well).
Even though this is a slicker and more conventional outing than the
first film, I have to admit, it’s just about as entertaining, and that’s really
all the filmmakers want you to get out of it.
Mission accomplished.
MVT: As stated, the
self-reflexive elements. They’re sly and
blatant at the same time.
Make or Break: You’ll know
from the film’s introduction whether you’ll be into the film overall.
Score: 6.75/10