I arrived on-time at this swanky eatery in Beverly Hills, but then again, one would expect that. My old stomping grounds, but this was all scouted ahead of time. I'm here to make deals.
Look, I'm ready to discuss the security measures of biometric authentication in relation to my analytic needs. I'm here to stress that the output must meet my need for utter consistency in reporting. But that's cut and dry. That's simply the facts and honestly, I wouldn't even want to sit anywhere, not just here, and listen to those details. That isn't dealmaking.
My surroundings have led me to pass along the do's and don'ts of this deal so that others (not necessarily you, dear reader) don't make the screw ups I witnessed others heartily do during that morning's event. That the deal had to be so early in the day wasn't what I would have chosen at all, but it just means you have to deal further.
First, as I did, arrive on time. If you don't, you're already at a disadvantage. You'll then have to begin with apologies and will likely pay for the meal. If you weren't planning on doing that, well, don't show up late. I'll be pleased with the breakfast treat you get as a result...surprised, frankly, because I wasn't expecting this. A tasty apology accepted.
Knowing your history helps with small talk, be it recent or decades ago. I don't always like the small talk, but I've found knowing the history helps draw out nutty anecdotes, and I'd much rather hear about a crazy sales trip in Virginia Beach in 2002 than I would overhear the next table over talk about...whatever they're talking about.
We've all seen the harried assistant arriving with obnoxiously large breakfast orders. Thankfully, I never had to do that, but I remember those days. But try not to act like an asshole when you're in the throes of your life choices. In the wise words of Tony Manero "everybody's dump-dumping on everybody." The entire restaurant will be pleased when you leave.
Have something unexpected to throw out in conversation. I wouldn't call this news, but during the duration of this deal, that I knew Northwestern played half its football games this season in a park off Lake Michigan, that the old brown swanky shades were Foster Grant's, the nickname of Stetson University, and the name of a long-gone cable channel were all in my favor.
This is the dance, and it is done. There's the right way, and then there's all the way. Unfortunately, the majority of America decided it wanted to return to an "I got mine, you get yours" economy. I'll have to keep making deals. A fresh peach tart on me: we aim for the future.
World Champions?! I can't believe it! World Champions! You say "you had the best record in the league - what do you mean 'I can't believe it'" - I just...(shakes head)
(Whoa - 1 blog post the day after another, what is this, the 2000s?)
OK, well let's go back to the 2000s. As you watched that decade end, and if you watched the Dodgers into the next decade, one with a team slowly getting better and then oh so close in the playoffs, and woeful managers, losing more 1-run games than you can remember, you'll just have to believe me: I NEVER and I repeat NEVER thought in my life I'd hear the phrase "the strength of the Dodgers is their bullpen." The very phrase "thank Christ it's over" replaced the baseball phrase "save" for this very reason. If you are winning by 5 runs in the 9th and win the game by 1, that should not be listed as a "save." That is "thank Christ it's over" because of the clown car in the outfield that seemingly would get dizzy for 7 innings and then show up to serve balloons to the other team.
And I said woeful managers because we'd get so close to the World Series and then just...but then that hurdle was crossed. And once we were cheated, yes, we all know that. But the following year we returned, and we were playing a better team, but we had a chance to even things and said manager gave it all away. But 2020 comes around, a weirdo baseball season, and a championship is won! It might have been won because the other manager was worse but that's not our fault, is it?
Anyone who is a Dodger fan celebrated and remembered that 2020 championship. Then there's the brainworm crowd, who labeled that "a Mickey Mouse championship" (don't know what that means, but OK) "didn't count" (like your last weigh-in, I'm sure), "fraud" (you're thinking of something else you got wrong in 2020) and on the list goes. We swatted these comments away like one would a fly, and even when we went back to a "regular" season (one with "vaccinated sections") it was a good run, no complaints. Besides, we just won it all last year.
2022 was a return to the ground with the same "curious" managing calls while San Diego (a team that's 80% mouth, 20% skill) won and wouldn't shut up about doing so. The next year followed with a sensational diaper-filling against Arizona, grim faces abound. "He doesn't know how to get the team ready for the playoffs" was the refrain. It was smiles and dances in August as you beat Colorado in a meaningless game. As seasons wear on, and the costs to watch the regular season games prohibitive, I looked from afar. Again, working on dialing it back...why go all in, especially if the diaper will be filled so quickly? We'll see, sure, but...
A-Roid said last night "can you believe some people wanted Dave Robers fired?" Yeah, I can. Do you watch Captain Hook? "If we have that many pitchers on our roster, why not use 'em all? I mean, every game, why not?" Dave thought. That's one reason, Roid Freak. Another would be just a few weeks ago we faced an elimination game and because nearly all starters were burned out or injured (Mark Prior, pitching coach, someone who should abso-fucking-lutely know about saving your arm from injury and not overdoing it and pacing yourself, I'm fucking looking at you) Dave said "well, ok, Bullpen Game." What the hell?!
The Dodgers won that game 8-0. Here's how the Bullpen Game went:
That's 8 pitchers in 9 innings, 7 hits, no runs, 8 strikeouts. That went perfectly. That's a word that is used often, maybe too much, but it was perfect. Again, you've watched a team for years and years have a shit bullpen, no one you ever really felt you could count on, and...my god man.
The series clincher, a 2-0 grinder, got the shit monkey off of Dave's (and everyone else's) back. Once that happened, well, bring it on. The bullpen is winning games, at least 1 star play is showing up each game and Tommy Edman out of nowhere is Babe Ruth. And then here it is - a World Series? Against the Yankees?!
It's clinched in the Bronx, like in '81. When we had Nando. The tale is written in history, and its future is so done.
San Fernando, we do this for you. We look skyward as you used to when you pitched. Coming together, fighting back, for you. Freddie Freeman and his Paul Bunyan Balls, he sends pitches screaming out of the yard. Otani can damn near tear his shoulder, but he's not sitting anything out. The team turns at-bats into marathons. They leg out ground balls because who knows, someone might forget to cover 1st base. They run out fly balls because someone just might drop the thing.
For myself, and to the world, I need to let something go. I need to accept something and just get it out, and that is that.
(Begins playing "Chariots of Pumpkins" from the Halloween III soundtrack)
Dave Roberts, manager, has won 2 World Series for the Dodgers. Could and should the team have won more? Probably, but shoulda, coulda, woulda. This ends the talk, at least from me. He's shut me up. He went to the mound last night and put his chips in on the bullpen, specifically Blake Treinen. It worked again. I exalted. Last night, the team, the organization, its fans all celebrated a championship. Dave, however, was the winner. My worn-out Dodger cap is tipped to him. My mouth, for you Dave, forever closed.
I can open it to finish the champagne with OJ this morning, right? Why waste it?
Not only are we entering the shank of horror viewing in a calendar year (though, to be fair, any time is the right time), but we are also entering even more known (and theatrical) titles. This won't slow me down, of course. For those of you finding this randomly:
Poster of Theatrical Release: Close your eyes for a second...and sleep forever.
Since this is a theatrical film, I won't go as in-depth with this one. I think I saw it decades ago but had little memory of it. I thought it was all right. I liked how much of Mar Vista we see - makes me miss the old bowling alley and diner I used to hit all the time.
Back of VHS box: Don't PANIC...a terrifying journey into a forbidden world. And for two young people it is a journey that will twist and scar their minds forever. The powers of darkness gather, and nothing can stop the orgy of devastation they will unleash. Evil satanic rites. Human sacrifice. The ancient secrets of the occult. And as their fear reaches its shattering climax, the horrifying final blow is delivered. Don't PANIC...pure evil.
We often bemoan, and rightly so, how Saturday Night Live has devolved into a show where everything is shot like a police line-up, with people reading straight into a cue card. Now imagine this with people who clearly lack acting experience. Add the story moving with the subtlety of a frying pan to the face.
There've been a LOT of movies with a Quiji board as part of the plot, or even the main focus of a movie. There will be more in the future, I'd wager. This is one of them. I will give bonus points for the bit early on where Michael is on his BMX bike & jumps into a bike rack, knocking all of them over while an 80s guitar riff plays.
To quote Donovan Brandt, "Everybody likes movies. That's why it's a great thing to talk about. 'I love that movie!' 'Oh, I didn't like that.'" I know this is all subjective, but how did this end up so high on the list?
#13 - Frozen Scream (made in the 70s, home video companies said 1980, 1981, or 1983)
Back of VHS box: (Only found re-releases that dump on its quality...the original scan from the early 80s was illegible)
It's all here - multiple narrators, 16mm, re-purposed synth, voiceover acting to match foreign learning language cassettes, pacing that matches southern California traffic. This is the kind of shit Mike & I would find at video stores and rent on VHS box alone...we'd goof on it, likely only watch half of it, maybe think about re-using a clip on Night by Night and then cue up the next one.
"Judgement Day! Time to pay your dues!"
#12 - Don't Go in the Woods (1981)
Back of VHS box: Four young campers, Craig, Peter, Ingrid and Joannie, back-pack through the mountains for a relaxing weekend in the wilderness. They enter a forest which becomes denser and darker as they progress. Peter and Ingrid fear they are lost. The brush moves and something is there. Suddenly a large form rushes toward. A wide machete gleaming in the light falls fast. Craig slops dead to the ground. Peter and the others flee screaming into the forest. The rest of the day and terrifying night is spent running and hiding from the maniac murderer who is constantly in pursuit.
Again, we goof on VHS boxes written by people who clearly haven't seen the movie, and there are those who just give the whole damn thing away.
Well, how about this? The cooper black font. The swanky synth. The no-star cast (as I've mentioned in other reviews) getting separation:
Oh, I'm sorry: everyone gets called out?!
The dirty film transfer! The vertigo-inducing "cinematography." The "maybe on purpose, maybe not" stunts. The totally random edits. The come and go characters.
Synth sound effects for wolf howls. A wooden train whistle toy signifying a "train" nearby. Moog sounds to lighten the mood.
People talking over each other. No inflection in dialogue. Someone roller-skating on uneven pavement.
"Be careful, Dick!"
"Dick? Dick?!"
It's dusk, it's midnight, it's sunset, it's daytime, it's morning...all within 10 seconds. Sped-up film. A chase scene in a field nowhere near where the previous scene was filmed. Having a "score to settle" with a fellow camper and then doing so by closing them in a sleeping bag up a tree for a human pinata.
Let me make it plain: this is a bad movie. It's awful, but it's not trying to be as bad as it is - it just fails at each and every decision. Yowzer. This is the kind of film that belongs on this list. What a dizzy movie. Seriously, I'm going outside for a walk after this one.
#11 - Silent Night, Deadly Night (1984)
Poster of Theatrical Release: You've made it through Halloween. Now try and survive Christmas.
We all know this one - as a matter of fact, I remember seeing a screening at the New Beverly long ago with director Charles Sellier in the audience. I wrote about it somewhere - I thought here, but I guess not. The movie itself is its own thing: it is going for the shocks in many different ways, pretty much delivering on all of them under the guise of a horror plot. So much of what Sellier said that night, burned into my brain, is all on the Wikipedia page, so I won't bother re-hashing it here. However, one thing that stayed with me that isn't mentioned is an anecdote that Sellier told (and it's possible I could be applying this to another film, but I don't think so):
(SPOILERS)
Sellier is at either a preview screening or an actual screening on that lone weekend in theaters to get the feeling of the audience reaction. So, we know the scene where Billy finds the young couple in bed and takes care of them, you have a little girl, Cindy, who is apparently also in the house and comes out of her room awake. As Billy asks Cindy if she's been naughty or nice, a woman stood up and yelled "IF HE KILLS THAT GIRL, I'M WALKIN' OUT THIS THEATER!" Charles put his head in his hand. "What have I done?!" he thought to himself. This anecdote brought a hearty laugh to those of us at the New Beverly ~ 20 years ago. I'm sure it made him laugh too, looking back at it. But at the time, and all the shit he had to deal with it, I can't help but think that was an all too real, 100% honest reaction. Whatever the intentions were for the movie, for him and his career, and then the response is...well, what it was...how else can you respond but with "what have I done?!"
It's from Tri-Star. A theatrical production. Is it trash? I guess, but for something that made such a mainstream reaction, for better or (as it turned out for them) much worse, it doesn't really feel like it belongs on this list.
I'm almost done with this list. I'm also going insane. I just want you to know I'm aware of it.
Welcome back! In quite the twist of fate / junk kick, the fridge in the kitchen (full of food) decided to die on Labor Day just before we began a triple-digit heat wave. This means we'll be dining out due to electronic necessity on a nearly constant basis. What's worked?
We foolishly thought this could be repaired, but in today's disposable world, the ends didn't justify the means, so any suggestions were welcome. We started with a neighborhood spot, and my choice on a warm evening was a house side salad that came with a roll. I was content with the sal. It was my choice. "That's all you're gonna get?" I was asked. What the hell do you care?
The following day, I tried to snack my way through all non-perishable items, and I flashbacked to college, attempting to make a "meal" around whatever was around. If I was close to full, regardless of what it was, well...mission accomplished. Pistachios, cheese and crackers (the cheese saved in the beer fridge) and an apple sufficed. This isn't far from my typical lunch anyway, but I also knew I couldn't do this for much longer.
An early and successful choice for dinner was a local Columbian restaurant which is sensational on all fronts. Lately, despite my attempts to try all the entrees that interest me on the menu, I returned to the Pollo en Salsa Verde. No, it's not an exclusively Columbian dish, but many Columbian dishes at this location include carrots which, as we know, are the enemy. Besides, they have an extensive "fast food" menu, one the Big Scoop has chosen since we've moved here and the burgers & chicken sandos are top notch. After a stressful day revealing the realities where I actually had to, again, defend the li'l beer fridge in the garage having (what I was told was) "too much beer", I shoveled it away happily, ignoring most conversation. It wasn't aimed or geared towards me anyway.
The prices are adding up, and the new fridges won't arrive until the following Tuesday (for fuck's sake...) so I started to think about how I could go out and get something cheap. I didn't say delicious and inexpensive, so in my strive for just that, I tried to rationalize a Jr. Whopper with cheese. About halfway through, I gave the rest to the dog. What am I doing?! Sandwiches became my life for lunch as the week ended as the temps crossed 105 daily. The Sub Marine King himself shared his plight as I waited for the order. 105 outside means life isn't fun inside a kitchen, he intimated, even if we're all ordering cold sandos and cups of ice to hold up to our heads.
Friday, I went to the supermarket, looking longingly at items I couldn't purchase because I had no way to store them, ordering a meat n potatoes meal with green beans just to eat something square even though I was on my own food endurance run at this point. A nightfall where it was a "cool" 97 brought a local pizza place where fans were going a plenty. This place, too, confirms that temps that hot next to ovens are not enjoyable for the employees. The Big Scoop and I overate salad because...fuck, I don't know anymore. I don't...why am I doing any of this?!
By college football Saturday, I stayed cool with the sangria (it's a beer fridge, so it gets priority) as we all rooted on Northern Illinois like any other good citizen. I tried to assimilate the changes to my preferred surroundings, but how many god damned sandwiches can a man put away? Should put away?!
By Sunday morning (you didn't see the sun was up, you felt it) a deviation was suggested, so overpriced empanadas did the trick. Upon picking up the order under the glare of Mr. Sun, the kitchen help at this establishment also concurred that sitting by an oven, as a restaurant's AC does its damndest, is not preferrable either. I'm sensing a trend.
That evening, as I tried to save what plants and trees I could (you can't water in the dark if you can't see, but if it's hotter than shit when the sun is up, too, well you're just fucked either way aren't you?) I was told she was making dinner. As sweat poured over me, I gasped out a "fine." I don't know that there was enough time in-between these chores and eating, and my body continued to pay for it the following day.
The new week started with some depression - I knew it was the last full day of this predicament, but it just seemed unending. That and it was 106 outside. I don't even remember if I ate anything during the day; just mainlining anything cold to drink, admittedly short with anyone who dared to press me with unneeded questions. Yap yap yap. It's fucking hot as shit. WHAT.
The statistic is that kids make 80% of the decisions on where to eat once the parents make the decision to go out to eat. I cared but was too weak to put up a fight. I didn't fight where we sat in a Mediterranean restaurant that hits more than it misses, and there we were next to a couple and their young boy. We might as well have been eating in their apartment, because this annoying fucking kid was doing all the annoying-ass things loopy parents let their kids do in public. (An aside- once at a casual Beverly Hills eatery, a couple who thought it was a good idea for them to spawn let their offspring scream over and over without putting up a fight. When they finally left and were near the door, the entire restaurant broke into a thunderous applause.) By this point, I had crossed the dividing line - I ignored usual politeness, shoveled it away, kept the iced tea flowing, and let the one-liners loose because I had little left and all that was in the tank were the zingers I've kept in reserves so that MY offspring doesn't misuse the skill. Look at me - I can't even compare restaurant experiences. I'm worn out. This is not a comparison done in frivolity but in desperation, and my ability to pretend is over.
And so, yesterday, when it was "only" 95, 2 no-nonsense guys arrived with new fridges. I offered help, but also offered to stay out of their way. Not everything was as easy as they claimed, but maybe if felt that way to them when you do what they do, I guess. Things are cold. So, finally, are the temps outside. So is my temperament, or at least its trending that way. And looking back, maybe it's my emotion making this a bigger deal than it was, but I'm not sure. Maybe it was someone asking me "what are we gonna do?" over and over on a daily basis that did it. Or the heat? I'll need to get my strength up if I'm going to party again, but how? Only my future knows that, and it's insisting I find out for myself.
Yesterday, while I quietly mainlined Riunite, questions were answered by regaling tales of decades ago. Only the good times from then, those old days. This sent the Big Scoop and I to google maps, which then sent me to discover the public access archives from Bloomington. Yes, such a library exists. It doesn't contain everything (whatever that is), but enough to send my mind spinning back decades, and further neighborhood hunting.
But what am I looking for, exactly? What am I searching for in my mind? The last time I was physically there, I wrote how pleasing it is to find something that still stands from back then to assist in jogging the memories. Last night, however, I didn't need to be there to make it happen. I suppose that will be the ultimate verdict. That (Covid notwithstanding) it's been 5 years since a visit, and if I really needed a score, I'd have been back since. And in that prose from 5 years ago I realized, for better and worse, "those days" don't exist anymore - and that's fine.
We have friends who moved next door to where one lived in his formative years, at least in MN. That's a bridge too far for me, but I understand the pull. I can also see that, for likely 6-7 months of the year, if I pulled such a stunt, I'd be insufferable; always in a foul mood about weather. It was one driver to out here, and we're nearing a quarter century in Dealville. The majority of my full life.
A rep visits the house today to pick up electronics. He's visiting from NYC. What do you think? How's it been? "I love it!" In the brief chat, he exalted on the weather (dry heat), the food (it's all here), the people ("great"). After he left, I mulled over his statements and agreed. It's why you move when you can, to where you want, and can do so again and again. If anybody considers you an outsider or non-native, whether new to the area or even decades later, fuck 'em.
In the Haze-E-Daze of summer vaca, the Scoop reiterated again about her large reluctance to travel. "I love this house! I want to live here my whole life!" I was taken aback. "Well, sweetie of course you're welcome any time you want to visit. But--" She then added more news from the future: "By that point, mom will be in a senior living home, so it'll be even better!"
Zinger aside, it made me realize that she's starting to get those feelings in the moment the same way I did back in the said "old days." Will she have her own pull back, mentally or otherwise? There's no Dealville back there, that's for sure. Many times, I've opined to Laura how amazing it must have been to grow up out here, but she doesn't know any difference. She, too, will occasionally want to go to Bel Air, usually when we're nearby on our way home, to see the house of her youth. You can't see much from street level there, and those winding streets leave little room to park. When she wants to go, we're all supposed to go. I've seen it; that's enough for me. I've long since stopped asking her, while in MN, if she wants to go to my old place. It's a selfish exercise to me, holding next to no meaning to her.
Decades from now, will the Scoop be sitting where I am right now? Will I be here? Or will we swing by on a visit, walking around, with her bringing up these very days? Then, like now, the excitement and possibilities of the future awaits.
We're in 8mm and added sound (in French! Mais oui!), and it's shot like Introduction to Film, so this is just a scavenger hunt. All that said, if you look, you can find some real French gold in the hills...er, woods.
The rest of this is poorly edited and acted (I wasn't expecting much less) but one pleasing side-effect was that the music used (mostly swanky synth) reminded me of what was used on In Search Of... And I can also say-
SPOILER ALERT
I haven't seen a plot where the guy hacks up the family in front of the mom...but not just that: he then makes a BBQ of the family pieces and eats them in front of the wife!
Hanging out in the French countryside, '82. New Wave synth on the radio. Everyone smoking. What were you doing in the Summer of '82? Probably the same thing.
Good doggie!
There's also one scene of Ogroff in bed at home that I can't screencap or type out...you'll just have to see it for yourself. You'll have to see a movie just throw in anything it can think of to fit into the plot since, honestly, there are no words. You'll have to see a movie where the ending is...left to your interpretation? Or avoid this movie.
#19 - Bordinghouse (1982)
Back of the VHS description: Can a house be alive and have a personality all its own? Of course not! At least that's what the beautiful girls thought BEFORE they answered the ad that seems too good to be true! The final conflict will confirm the delicate balance of creation...at the BORDING HOUSE.
Paragon Video! The sign of quality! In this case, however...
The disclaimer at the beginning, ridiculous. The graphics, public access. The pacing, non-existent. The acting, the b-level crew of Night by Night.
After a while, with the video aesthetic, it seems like something Floyd Gondolli made and tried to sell Jack Horner. I'm talking hot fucking action to the max.
The whole time doing this exercise, I have applauded those films where they made the best with what they had, be it small budget, location, whatever. This is the first time, and even with a cast this large, where I, someone who was more producer than director, think...no, FEEL that I could do better, especially on video, than this movie. So could anyone else.
#18 - Blood Rage (1987)
Back of the VHS description: Todd and Terry are twins - blonde, cute as buttons, bright and identical in every respect, with one exception. One of them is a murderer. It all started one night at the drive-in when a teenager was slaughtered in the back seat of his car while his girlfriend watched. Todd was found guilty for the heinous crime and locked away in an asylum. Years passed and Terry lived happily with his mother, who smothered him with enough love for two sons. All was fine until one night when they received news that Todd escaped. The nightmare begins once again and out of its forbidding darkness steps a maniacal killer, raging for blood. But which brother is the killer? The truth may not be seen...until it's too late!
To be honest, this movie has been the barrier in the way of this posting. Intermittently I've been searching for this movie low and high, and I don't have the torrent skills of Drew Boatman, so my quest (lazily) went on for a while. But then - glory be! It's found, without anything holding it up as amazing so that I'd say, "I spent months looking for this?!"
Well, we're starting out with a shot of a drive-in, and it says "1974" - already you've got 2 in the plus column there.
Wait.
OK, hold on, now we have swanky synth, 80s clothing...I just...this totally rules, it's just people going at it at the drive-in, hell I'd watch 90 minutes of this opening montage alone.
(A brief aside - as the 70s dawned, she divorced Woody Allen, and for maybe a year or 2 in the mid to late 70's, Louise Lasser was one of the biggest TV stars around. There was a bit of a fade, but she was likely A-list adjacent into 1980s - she was just on the first season of It's a Living before filming this. I just want to put you in my mind frame as I'm watching her act around, well, the rest of the cast)
A voice-over narration attempts to cover up a re-edited scene.
Condo Bowl '83
"Looks like you're going to get a chance to meet the rest of the family. My psychotic brother just escaped."
"Could you pass the green beans, please?" Ah, Thanksgiving. There's nothing like it anywhere else in the world. Oh, and apparently the accent is on the beans in green beans.
You never really know how Thanksgiving will go, do you? Hell, one minute, you're in your condo office enjoying a cold, refreshing Old Style
And within that very same minute...
No hand, and no Old Style. Of course, your real right hand sneaks into the frame afterwards, but that's only a plus as far as we're concerned. People conducting manslaughter (or in this case, handslaughter) or even murder can just show up out of nowhere. Just right out of frame, complete with synth sting for effect. You kids out there might think you're cool but are you stabbing-someone-while-smoking-a-joint cool?! I told you, drugs are bad, m'kay?
There had to be multiple people on this shoot who knew full well what they were doing. As the plot chugs forward in the Florida night, you get incredible throwaway shots, like mom helping herself to Thanksgiving leftovers:
This doesn't mean there aren't bad edits in here, and there are, but if anything, that makes it fit into the good column of 80's slashers.
(your basement as you remember it)
(re: video games) "If those things are around, you can write off this night."
"Girls having a good time back there?"
"Oh sure. Just talking about the bad old days when guys were horny all the time."
"Well, that sounds like my kind of conversation."
And it goes on from there, including some amazing additions:
- People are dead because, well, someone else screamed and I don't see them anymore
- You can open a locked sliding glass door with a flathead screwdriver and some good old-fashioned gumption
- What, you don't have "make up" lying around to pretend you've been killed?
- Kids take everything literally. Don't you forget that.
- A phone to the shin? Ouch!
I will pay $20 for that Sam the Olympic Eagle beach towel. OK, $30. $35?
I haven't seen Thanksgiving, and this barely qualifies as a slasher around the holiday, but I might not need to because this one is fun...not great, but fun. Quite the ending, too.
#17 - Sledgehammer (1983)
Back of the VHS description: No one has dared enter this house for nearly ten years since a young couple from the valley were brutally murdered by a madman with a sledgehammer. No one...until now. They would not be alone. There was something evil in this house. The kind of thing no one believes in yet everyone fears. Something that moves only through the still of the darkest night, creeps within the shadows of man's deepest fears and strikes without warning. Something which does not want them in this house yet cannot allow them to leave. The night will be shrouded in their fear, stained with their blood. The nightmare has begun. God help them!
Direct to video, shot on video. Immediately with the Night by Night effects and the no-star cast broken out "with" other standouts as well.
Some curious puns here too, unless I'm led to believe the last name of the editor just happened to be Cutter and the lighting director's last name is Watt.
We move quick in this video with a swift back-of-the-mannequin head sledgehammer shot, right as he was getting...well, we won't talk about that. With the fact that this is 100% video, I'll let your imagination run. The killer uses the sledgehammer just as a judge would with a gavel, which is unique.
Outside of an insert or 2, we stick with the exact same shot for 2 minutes?! We follow a scene with stock music of acoustic guitar and the same two people talking in the previous scene...walking away in slow motion?! We get one of the worst Carl Spackler impersonations you've ever heard...by an adult?! We see people aggressively drink alcohol...then eat sandwiches...for over 10 minutes?!
Normally, in movies like this, you're trying to find the motivation of the killer as the others are simply innocent and in the wrong spot at the wrong time. Here, just off the git go, I'd say if 75% of these folks saw their action van and folks inside said van meet a sledgehammer head-on, you'd be cheering for the sledgehammer.
Sledgehammer and Boardinghouse were both shot on video. You can use both of those cassettes to tape over them with something else. Anything else, I don't care. You now have 2 free blank tapes.
#16 - The Toxic Avenger (1984)
Back of the VHS description: A thrilling one-of-a-kind action packed film loaded with adventure, horror, science fiction, and unforgettable big-budget special effects. Melvin, a skinny weak wimp of a man, is janitor at a health club. Teased by the "beautiful" men in the club, he falls victim to a particularly nasty trick, plunging into a vat of Toxic Waste. The rest, as they say, is history. Melvin has become - The Toxic Avenger - A monstrous mutated mass out to rid the world of evil.
If you're reading this, you've (of course) seen this movie. At worst, you have to have HEARD of this movie. A product of its time, one that spawned many imitators, even within its own production company. As with Class of Nuke 'Em High, the effects are sensational, there are 1-liners a-plenty, moments that would in no way fly today (and that's a good thing), but the good outweighs the bad.
I can't be the only person to have noticed how a young Jason Vorhees and Melvin (the Toxic Avenger himself) bear a resemblance. Almost like looking at itself in a mirror.
The Toxic Avenger is more than it needed to be, but that's why it's on this list. It's why Troma made so many sequels. It's why there was a cartoon. It's why it's so high on this list.
In the Summer of 2013, we welcomed in a new member to the team. We were very excited to have them become part of the family. Over a decade later, it's more than overdue for a retirement (laughs). Please stand up and take bow. NCAA Football 14, ladies and gentlemen.
I don't need to tell you, or anyone else here for that matter, that we had to lean on you for quite some time. The usual time served is 2 years. But the laws changed, technology changed...hell, a lot of things changed. Yet you were always there. While set in your ways, you knowingly know no difference. What happened in 2013 was going to happen forever.
In this world, and the world you created, some things never ended. Things like the Beef 'O Brady's Bowl. In your world, it continued to live on. So did the Fight Hunger Bowl. The names change, of course, so it always took a moment to look up just what the Russel Athletic Bowl, the BBVA Compass Bowl, and the GoDaddy Bowl were, or what they became.
The world you created was an interesting one: all 3 service academies spent a few years towards the top. Some teams were always good. Some teams fell and stayed there...for decades. That's not unlike real life, I suppose. You could say that some of the world you created could only happen in the world you made, right?
Yes, in the year 2036, Minnesota did win the national championship. No doubt about it. I didn't coach them. I didn't have anything to do with it. You said it's so, and so it shall be done.
Then there's the world I created: starting at Georgia (before they were what they are today), then Hawaii, then Tulane. I would involve The Woman Formerly Known as Smiley on where "we" should go next. This made her part of it and allowed me to play it more. After 2 successful years at Tulane she said, "you can only eat so much gumbo" (a statement from someone who has never eaten gumbo, mind you). Then 2 years at Northwestern as a challenge, then a long stretch at UCLA. Back to Georgia, and then another long stretch at Hawaii. Maybe it was island fever, looking for a challenge, or a tie to my own background, I turned around Boston College. The final stop was back to the Golden State and Stanford.
Your attempt to make names was a valiant one, but I think we all know that I do that much better. I'm grateful you let me edit the players so that the graphics showed the names fly through the screen after a big play. Let's remember some of these names...I mean, players:
Eddie Bierschwale Rollo Phlecks Harry Frosy
Rex Havlock Ahmad Slippins Hodge Strunk
Snell DeWitt Garfield Bortz Lunnington Lu
Flint Farnt Cleve Jonker Dunwoody Pfaff
Thornell Schwartz Sealy Hunkle Turk Zeiff
Fyfe Symington Noah Burzlaff Norell Pearlnutter
Darn Wilgont Hap Poppenheimer Merv Forgsworth
Al Ott Derik Lawnd Gilbert Bunthorne
Ash DePung Shepp Searles Noah Eeg
The one thing you couldn't do was no fault of your own: you couldn't adapt to the real-world changes around you. People worked hard to make uniform changes and field changes that, somehow, could work in the game. You couldn't add new schools without taking one away, of course, so we were left to wonder (or do the work ourselves) how Coastal Carolina might fare.
The last 2 years have been difficult for all of us. We're teased with release dates while we continue to lean on you. Trailers for a new game only frustrated us...until the real date came out. Real explanations and examples were shown. We were left overjoyed, and now only waiting a few more weeks until reality is here.
An oft-used phrase is "you don't know what you have until it's gone" but that doesn't apply, and that's all thanks to you. A true "above and beyond" service was made, and all of us thank you for it. In this new game, I will have much that I wished for over the last 11 years. The one thing I won't have, however, is my decades of success. But look at it this way - it's a new beginning.
No one knows what the greatest video game is, but I know one that served its people right up there with the Ms. Pac Man / Galaga combo game in the bowling alley. That would be you, NCAA Football 14. A toast - congratulations on your service.
(applause, as the dusty case is opened one last time)
What this ballad is...is what he represents. It was the only cab I took in New Orleans. Beauchant has likely driven the route hundreds of times. He could have driven me to Baton Rouge and back and I wouldn't have known, but he didn't. That would be difficult. An unnecessary use of time. Instead, I arrived at my hotel. It was easy.
It'd be easy to blend in along the Mississippi River wearing a Tulane Angry Wave t shirt. The humidity was already getting to everyone, family, on-looker, and local color alike. It wasn't until I had yet another shrimp po'boy and half a dozen iced teas in me that I could finally get up the movement to hop along with a roving Dixieland band on a street in the middle of a Memorial Day afternoon. I didn't spill any of my 7th iced tea on St. Ann Street while dancing, either. Maybe I wasn't totally in the groove because there were occasional nuthouse screamers not far away threatening the vibe. But I pressed on. It was easy to do so.
And hell, you might as well ask everyone about restaurants because you're just gonna wander and drink and eat constantly. Only way I knew how to beat this heat. It didn't prevent everyone from acting like a jerk or get in your way. I just slowed down. Breathed slower. Seems like it's something Beauchant would do at times like this.
At night, I roamed the music clubs of Frenchmen Street, all enticing you to hang out, come inside, drink, and enjoy. If it's easier to enter a club a half hour before a band goes on to get some drink in you before the cover starts, so be it. The music selection as the band was setting up was apparently the playlist "funk-o-gold" so that was in my favor. When they finally showed up, this group tore it down. After a particularly spirited tune, something made me think to head outside. Not sure why. I did, and a block away found this:
They passed the hat, musicians left and showed up simultaneously, and it was evident to me how easy it was to have a good time.
It's not easy getting out of the rack early on a vacation, but a bus took me and others out of town, out to White Kitchen, Louisiana. Part of the allure was seeing what a town called White Kitchen actually looked like, and also to drive by a Piggly Wiggly. Near the Mississippi border, I boarded a boat with "Captain Sonny," but it's also easy to choose to sit next to him as his "co-captain" to watch him hand grass snakes to the offspring, and to show how to throw "gator bait" so that, over time, they know to come to you. As we get away, another boat waves and says "Hey, brother!" to Sonny. "I'm not your brother, thank God. Not with what you're up to. I know you." Later, in a peaceful enclave off the Old Pearl River, we assist in de-escalating a possible stand-off between alligators and raccoons. Everyone gets food and no one becomes it, either. It was easy to let the breezes cool me down under the shade of trees.
I don't need to tell you that a trip here wouldn't be complete without visiting Preservation Hall to hear jazz. It's sensational, these small venues, so intimate that you feel you are part of the show, that they aren't playing for you; you just happen to be there while they're playing.
What I didn't know until afterwards was just how easy it would be to talk to all the musicians. They were approachable as hell - including one who'd been there for decades. I felt like I just visited the church of music.
Even with a helpful app, it took a fortifying BBQ lunch to get a-moving on the streetcar. Once I did, it was liberating to move about in a very local way. It wasn't without the usual public transport issues, but those were pleasing rides. Maybe it was the fact that I figured out what went where. (More than 1 local said that in the 70s, many lines were dug up and replaced with busses. "Busses can't drive on these streets! Now they bringing them all back."
I was thinking that on one of my trips on the St. Charles line, the oldest running streetcar line in the world. For centuries, people have travelled this line, and here I was taking this to get more ice cream. It's just as it always goes for me - just as I figure out how to get around, where to go and where I want to go, it's time to leave.
It's not easy going anywhere, especially with family members that are either indecisive or don't want to be there to begin with. It's not easy to always have to stop for beignets when I still don't "get them" and, frankly, would rather eat more of those delicious praline pecans. Now, a few days after returning to Dealville and reflecting...when vacationing in New Orleans, it really was all a Big E-Z.
Once we were nearing The Whiskey, it was like I was narrating one of those Hollywood Tours...except this one covered my own life. Why are we taking this road? It's a shortcut; you avoid 2 lights. I used to live here. Drive a mile or more, and then another sneaky way - see? Here we are.
As with anything else in Dealville, you drive through famous streets and just as much point out places you remember, you also point out the things that are gone. The Sunset Strip always changes. It evolves. The only thing permanent, beyond a handful of clubs and buildings, is the street itself. One unexpected change, however, was a curious feeling: is the moment over? I'm not saying I was the only car on the road or anything, but it was a Friday night and...I had no trouble navigating the road. Parking was a breeze. Weird. Maybe we beat the traffic? It's kind of dinner time, I guess...
We passed Carney's (still there!) and the Artist Formerly Known As Smiley was thrown. "Whoa. What's this?" The Big Scoop herself told her it was Supreme's store. I added that there was a skate bowl inside. Confusion continued until I mentioned it was once Tower Records. "Oh!" Hey, it could be worse: so many things on our way had been replaced by 5-6 story buildings of various gaudy styles, all seemingly made by outsiders trying to fit in.
I looked around and saw other locales that very quickly put back in a state and time, roughly 2 decades ago. Your author spent much time getting drunk, seeing comedy and rock/punk shows, and just wandering. The streets were packed and, as the slogan used to say, "the best show IS the strip." I kept this inside as I arrived at The Whiskey. My name was on the guest list! I've arrived!
"Because she's under 18, she can't go in and out." Why not? "It's our policy." Okay...
As it goes, we entered as one act was going on. I was still taking it all in, keeping an eye on the Scoop (who was mildly enjoying it) and AFKAS who was trying to turn this into a wedding reception dance floor. As the evening wore on, the Scoop kept wanting to move farther and farther back from the stage. I probably should have bought her ear plugs. Just doing this activity was a lengthy discussion. "Why does it have to be a rock concert?" "Hey, I know you'd rather see smooth jazz, but we're trying something else. We don't have to stay all night. Plus, I found an Italian restaurant nearby." (Her face lit up)
So, she and I left and wandered up and down the strip. Outside a restaurant or 2, she didn't seem interested in anything else. She was annoyed by people smoking. I was mildly concerned by some of the strip's, uh, more colorful characters that were wandering around. The traffic continued to flow freely. Most times, we had the sidewalk to ourselves.
Upon return to The Whiskey, she said, "let's get dinner" and I tried to bargain - we haven't even been seeing the bands 90 minutes. That's it?! Then I remembered she couldn't even go back in if I wanted her to, and I had to go in to tell the AFKAS that we're getting something to eat - she won't hear or notice her phone. I left her alone on the street while I tried to tell someone who already has hearing problems to meet us whenever you're ready, but the Scoop's hungry and bored. I calmly and quickly got out to the street, a concerned parent, leaving my kid out there, but I needn't have worried: even if the security was more concerned with people going inside, no one else was around. But maybe my timing was perfect: as I talked with her outside the door, down the strip came a woman looking the very definition of "bad road." Like an 80's hair metal rock had been overturned and they crawled out. I had one eye on her talking to the door guy, and one on the scoop. The old groupie walked on and I heard the door guy say to a friend "Did you see her? I hadn't seen her in years. I thought she was fucking dead. And there she is!"
The Big Scoop was easily pleased by the pasta, headache and cares long gone as she regaled the owners of their high-quality garlic bread. People known and new wandered over from the show to join us. Most of us discussed YouTube's byzantine monetization policies. None of these things would've happened decades ago, nor would the following phrases have been used: "Yeah, it was dead in there." When the scoop and I dined, a to-go order customer said "Yeah, I haven't been by in a while. It's dead out there." In a brief moment, I remembered: Easter Weekend, around Christmas, I remember those were slow times on the strip. But this was a regular Friday night with good weather.
I discussed this with the help of the restaurant. It was almost a lament. I shared something I've probably shared on this blog. "I worked with a guy who was down here in the late 70s, early 80s all the time, and I'd say, 'you were there in the PRIME days.' And he'd shake his head and say no, you're in your 20's, you're going to look back at right now the same way." The help agreed. I said "yeah, I guess he's right, it was fun. But (gesturing outside) now?" The help said they get traffic during the day now from international tourists. They've all heard of it. They want to see it. They stop in for lunch. "Well, that's cool. Things keep moving."
Fortified, we continued around and saw vacant buildings (not forlorn, just ready to lease) and bars & clubs having trouble attracting anyone. We were at the early stages of the shank of the evening...and we figured we might as well head back. Nothing going on. I made a left turn with ease, something impossible 20 years ago. I had no problem making it home. Once inside, I took a moment to reflect: some things should pass me by, and some things I've passed by, that's how life goes. Melrose was a hot spot for decades because of what the people made it...until real estate found out, priced every weird thing out, and it is a shell of its former self if even that. The Strip, I figured, would continue to evolve but remain a hot spot. Maybe that, too, is in the long, slow fade. There is less that I can go "back to" out here, a vibe being one of things, especially while so many physical things still stand.
When watching the MEAC conference tournament last year, you ordered a commemorative T shirt. When it arrived weeks later, the 2XL size was too small. To ensure the purchase wasn't a total loss you
A) Wear it as an undershirt
B) Wear it when you go to the library to check out CDs
C) Wrote off the $32.58 on your taxes as an "educational donation."
Over the last week or so, I struggled through less-than-exciting basketball games, wondering what could fill the precious little evening viewing time I have...and then I realized: I'm only halfway done with this quest! I shall return!
Back of VHS Description: Straight-A honor students mutate into a blood-thirsty gang of punked-out bikers. Shy young couples turn into lust-crazed sex-weasels. And a putrid, flesh-eating slime-monster lurks in the basement. Just another school day...at Tromaville High! The strangeness begins when highly radioactive sludge from the neighboring nuclear power plant seeps onto campus. Soon, discipline crumbles, morals go out the window and mega-volt rock 'n roll madness takes over the student body! As the hideous mutant organism in the school basement continues to grow, so does the virulent outbreak of bizarre and violent behavior. It's a crash course in genetically deranged humor for the kids - and creatures - of "The Class of Nuke 'Em High!" An outrageous dose of Nuclear Age adventure from the makers of the cult classic "Toxic Avenger!"
Just going to revisit this film led me to think back to those first viewings of such Troma films as this, Squeeze Play, and Troma's War. Pretty sure I first saw Squeeze Play heavily edited on USA, and then later in my Hollywood Video days. Troma's War might have been even before working at the video store (Troma's War has one of my favorite video box quotes of all time: "Not a REAL war, but who cares?!"). Toxie would fit somewhere in that timeline, too. But Nuke 'em High I remember, but bits and pieces...I think?
With all the subtlety of a frying pan to the face, the Troma Team knows what they're doing and why you're watching. Give it to em!
"I don't give a wet fart what you think!"
"Unless you want Kathy here to see your EARS ripped off, I suggest you make like a hockey stick and get the puck outta here!"
"Gross, huh? You shoulda seen the girl I picked up at the video arcade on Saturday. SHE was GROSS. What a hairy ass!"
(The 1980's - what a time: where people are force-fed joints, and wearing plastic leis meant PARTY)
The scene seconds before this screenshot (taken not to ruin it for those who haven't seen it in decades)
is yet another piece of proof that putting money into practical effects is always worth it. By the way - what an 8x10.
Why this film is not in constant rotation with other crazy low-budget 80s films, I don't know. Then again, maybe I'm the one who is late to the party. But this is a party I'm not leaving any time soon, because if you're looking to see a nuclear waste-controlled man punch another down his throat, well, you're my kind of person. Video trash? Sure - I think everyone would agree. Dumpster dive into this one for a trip down memory lane. No, the 1980s weren't perfect despite what I wrote above (so much of the dialogue wouldn't fly today, and that's a good thing) but don't shy away - sift through this bin and see what you can find.
#24 - Night of the Demon (1980)
Back of the VHS description: In shock and pain after being found in the forest with his face mutilated and most of the skin burnt away, Professor Nugent insists that the American legend of the "Big Foot" monster is true. A group from the University's anthropology class, including the young daughter of the dead fisherman, set out to uncover the mystery. The group are eventually trapped by the demon, only to die in the most gruesome blood bath ever filmed.
(Way to give away the whole fucking movie)
Alas, the VHS box does include this reassuring note:
Oh - this is in color? Great!
I'll save you time - this is not good. Let's focus on the positives. The music, even if not made for the film, is pleasing. There are also names.
The art director is David Gooch. The script comes from a story by Jim L. Ball. The director of photography is John Quick.
But the film is on this list for 1 reason, and 1 organ only:
#23 - The Deadly Spawn (1983)
Back of the VHS description: Imagine a meteor, hurtling through space for a billion, billion years. It smashes into an isolated part of the earth's surface and unleashes deadly mutating spores. As they grow, the spores only want to do one thing - EAT - anything or anyone will do to satisfy their hunger. Their arrival was unnoticed but their presence was soon experienced by everyone.
16mm!!!
Look, man, this is the opposite of the dreck I previously watched: at least these guys are doing their best with what they have (which is, apparently, next to nothing...or they spent it all on the monster) so let's look at some money saving ideas:
Kills
Can be done by tossing a spoonful of blood on a character's glasses.
By Sound-effect
By shadow against a wall
Blood drops from a test tube on the floor
Effects themselves
Projecting a light behind a white sheet, showing only the shadow
Establishing shots can come from a model railroad
Plow through these issues
Hiring an actress to whisk eggs in a scene and, though it's apparent she doesn't know how, leave it in
When a table-full of actors talk over each other, remind the viewer that's what happens in real life
It's OK to focus on 1 character and cut to a different camera angle, still on the same character
Combine all that, add some synth for spice, and well, you've got a worthy entry in this list!
#22 - Death Spa (1988)
Back of the VHS description: Hell hath no fury like a woman's scorn. This one is shapely, beautiful, demonic...and dead. She's also insanely jealous - and one by one, the beautiful people of her husband's health club become victims possessed by her evil spirit...and each meets a grisly death. Check this one out...it's from the people who brought you "FACES OF DEATH", and it's not recommended for the Squeamish. In this spa, you'll sweat blood!
My only measuring stick is this vs. Killer Workout but hold on - I know exactly where this opening was filmed. For a time, I lived a little over a block from here - this is the intersection of Sunset (we see the classic Marlboro cowboy billboard by the Chateau Marmont) and Crescent Heights. This was a double decker strip mall with a McDonald's inside (that had a movie marque showing the latest sale) and a bank in front...I think a Washington Mutual but something before that...holy shit. OK, for personal effect alone this rules already.
Now let's take a look at this cast - the late great Merritt Butrick of Square Pegs and Zapped! fame (and maybe a Star Trek in there somewhere). Alexa Hamilton of the infamous TV Movie pilot The Invisible Woman. A lot of other recognizable faces, too.
I freely admit - I haven't returned to a health club since Covid. I don't need mouth breathers surrounding me as I attempt some semblance of fitness. However, if a health club looked like this, I'd change my mind:
Pastel walls in various shapes, upbeat synth, people just getting on and off weights and nautilus equipment. Even if my workout would be interrupted by undercover cops wearing white suits.
"Where were you last night between 9 and 11?"
"At home. Hacking."
---
"How does a god damn diving board just break loose?"
"Somebody messed with the bolts."
---
"A word, David."
"Can we keep it to that?"
---
"Why don't you show off for me?"
"I never waste effort in the gym. Besides, I'm Beta, you're VHS."
---
---
"I'm putting the machines on manual. And that's the end of that."
(reverse low five)
"I like it."
---
---
I think Merritt and I have the same hair.
Unfortunately, in a movie like this, you have actors with skill and experience mixed with some with, well, less than, and you wouldn't notice this that much unless they're together. In this film, it's nearly every scene. I guess one's spleen could rupture when you couldn't let go of a chest fly machine. I guess someone could survive falling 20 feet from the ceiling to the floor and get up like they tripped.
It's up to you, reader, to determine if this is better, worse, or the same as Killer Workout. That's all I can ask of you.
#21 - Slumber Party Massacre II (1987)
Back of the VHS description: The only sane survivor of SLUMBER PARTY MASSACRE, Courtney (CRYSTAL BERNARD) dreams of the drill murderer returning. She can't shake the horrible feeling that she and her friends will be viciously tormented and brutally butchered. Again and again the nightmare returns. Dazed, Courtney loses control. And her nightmare crosses into reality. No one believes her, until it's too late. The driller killer returns, reincarnated as an evil rocker. He methodically stalks them; then violently gores them to death...one by one. Mixing elements of NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET with TEXAS CHAINSAW MASSACRE, one the fittest can survive - SLUMBER PARTY MASSACRE II!
(Spoiler alert: this film is a stretch at over 70 minutes)
In movies such as these, while there has to be some element of plot setup, you'd like to see some early, if even brief, view of why we're watching. Show us even a sneak peak...a preview...anything. While we get the form of a nightmare at the start, this film begins with garage band antics, someone actually requesting a Slice soda, and a "student's" room with a poster that actually says "Football." This movie, for what it's supposed to be, takes WAY TOO LONG TO GET GOING.
Poor Courtney. There's a dog barking outside every fucking minute she's home. Is that an in-joke or did they not know the difference?
"These are killer corn dogs."
Sometimes movies like these can be too self-aware. And some of the winks can be appreciated. But after a while...I don't know. I wanted it to either be a genial comedy of an all-girl band working out a new album in a rental condo, or something closer to Slumber Party Massacre. I just don't know. It's like this movie blatantly has a very specific first half and second half that almost don't go together.
(When a bathtub fills with blood intercut with a killer electric guitar riff...that ruled. When the giant zit...well, that was gold. Drill-tar in action: a winner)
I guess most of the cast gave up the acting life, and that's a shame, too. Crystal Bernard was funny, relatable, and cute. After "Wings" and a brief country music career...vanished. Juliette Cummins could have done drama & comedy, but apparently never got the chance. Kim McArthur was on Santa Barbara (a good spot for her) and then disappeared.
Maybe, another viewing will help, but there are so many others on the list!
I wonder if I'm alone in thinking that the Times Square New Year's Eve specials have become a downer? Multiple stages line the street so that someone you have (or likely haven't) heard of can sing "Imagine" to cut the happy mood immediately. Then, from there, the countdown begins with a surprisingly low amount of audience volume...and "Aud Lang Syne" is trimmed to include the well-overplayed "New York, New York." What follows is another downer - "What a Wonderful World." I noticed, watching this 3 hours behind, that roughly 10 minutes later as the new year began in New York, the streets were about "back to normal" as one could ever expect. Amazing how it's devolved into...well, this.
To get that old feeling back, I fired up Dick Clark's New Year's Rocking Eve from 1981 into 1982. Why wouldn't I?! As we begin with Dick showing a frenzied crowd who shut down the area:
we then go to the ABC Television Center in Hollywood for the Rocking Eve!
I don't have many regrets, but looking back, one was not taking up this invitation: each year while I was at ABC, I was asked if I wanted to attend the Hollywood portion of New Year's Rocking Eve. It's taped roughly a month before, and the only other direction was to wear "party clothes." That interpretation was left up to you. One year I was in Hawaii, but the other 2 I could have attended. I should have attended. What a curio it would be to find oneself on camera then...but especially now, with all the time past. I don't think I'd be invited anymore.
I can look at the artists I missed (Luda, Rihanna) and then see that as the clock turned to 1982, we were treated to the Ricks of 1981:
Even lip-synched, that's a powerful 1-2 right there. We are then introduced to our hosts, Charlene Tilton and Tom Wopat. Two stars from CBS shows hosting an ABC special would seem to show the stroke Dick Clark had at the time.
Even before Rick Springfield can start singing, ABC doesn't want you to forget: it's not ALL Rockin, you know?
In what can be viewed as a higher-class American Bandstand, the dancing shots get classed up with people in tuxedos and formal wear. The transition is seamless as they go back live to Dick, who's freezin' for his money. No heaters beyond the lighting. All we hear is just a constant wail of cheering and people clowning for the camera.
After Rick James lip synch's Super Freak, it's time for another transition back to the Times Square but...holy cow:
We have video games here because hey, it's a party! Time for a commercial and...whoa horsey:
HELL YES.
OK, we're getting close, and Dick Clark mentions that the people they're showing don't know they're on camera...but that isn't stopping them from trying anyway.
It arrives - Dick yells "Happy New Year!" and immediately we show Hollywood, where Charlene and Tom celebrate like they've just won the bonus round of a game show:
After 2 minutes of celebrating, we go to commercial. A long break - even a fake out coming back - maybe 4 minutes? It includes a Dr. Pepper commercial with Scott Baio. Once finally back, Barry Manilow is followed by the Four Tops, who perform their current hit "When She Was My Girl." The hour continues with more songs - Jesse's Girl being one of them. We even get one of Tom's slow dance country tunes. Rick (James that is) returns with Ghetto Life, which, I think covers the debate on what's better, then or now. "Playing tag with winos, the only way to have some fun." Give it to me, baby! They immediately turn then to Rick Springfield, who performs "Love is alright tonight" - sorry, my brain is on overload now. Girls are screaming, people are, well, rocking out.
Think about the last 2 songs.
Now think about the shit I mentioned from this year.
Isn't New Year's supposed to be a party?! A celebration either of a great year, or happiness that the current year, while shit, is finally over? I've felt both ways many times. Yet I watched the Times Square of now 2024 try to sap the happiness out of me...and damn it all, I'm not having that as my end of 1 year or start of another.
During the thick of viewing this special, I was seated aside The Big Scoop, who was faintly paying attention while playing video games. Mid-play she asked, "why do you like old commercials, anyway?" I hate getting asked questions like that; like I have to prove to anyone why I have the interests I have - what is it to you? But this time I did and, come to find out, she was paying attention. "Yeah, because those commercials are sweet, you know? And if it's funny, it's supposed to be funny. Commercials now are so stupid: here's people falling down or whatever." I remind her that you had to try harder then, too: no "skip" buttons. Not that anyone in 1981/82 could have ever imagined a world where that would be a possibility. I also wonder if those revelers, 40 years ago, would envision a future where it almost seems those in charge want you to almost feel lucky you made it. Well fuck that. Give me an excuse to party, I'll do it. Make a situation unnecessarily remorseful, well, I won't be there.
