If I didn't know any better, I could have sworn that I just watched the eye-opening story of a young woman struggling to come to terms with her own homosexuality. Unfortunately, I do know better. Meaning, I'm going to have to admit sooner or later that I just watched a film written and directed by a trial lawyer named John De Hart. It's true, just because a film is written and directed by a trial lawyer named John De Hart, doesn't mean it can't be about sexual awakening. But let's get real, what do trial lawyers named John De Hart know about coming out as a lesbian? Actually, what do trial lawyers named John De Hart know about directing movies, writing movies, acting in movies and scoring movies? When you ultimately decide to subject yourself to "GETEVEN" (a.k.a. Road to Revenge), a film that is tantamount to watching a ninety minute infomercial for a revolutionary new kind of adult diaper, these are the types of questions you will be asking yourself. Boasting the action chops of Samurai Cop, the hot tubs of Andy Sidaris and the misguided moxie of The Room, John De Hart has made a movie so awkward and sad, that you can't help but root for it. (Yeah, root for it to end. Am I right, fellas?) You're not far off, but I sincerely wanted John De Hart to succeed at whatever it was he was trying to accomplish when he decided to unleash this ego stroke job masquerading as filmed entertainment onto an unsuspecting public.
Speaking of sincerity, I did genuinely pick up on a lesbian subplot amidst all the Wings Hauser-generated insanity and Pamela Jean Bryant-fostered legginess that is sprinkled liberally throughout this movie.
In-between the moments that feature Pamela Jean Bryant drinking wine from a gold fish bowl-size wine glass and John De Hart singing a country and western song at a local tavern (and by "local tavern," I mean the writer-director-trial lawyer's spacious rec room), we get the occasional shot of two women in cowboy hats enjoying the twangy atmosphere of the joint.
Even though these two ladies have nothing to do with the plot, John De Hart's camera seems obsessed with them. Things get even stranger when a woman comes out and starts dancing in nothing but a cowboy hat and a tropical-themed thong. Now, that might not sound all that weird, but it's the reaction of one of the cowboy hat ladies to the thong dancer that's interesting.
Horrified by the sight of the topless woman shaking her thong ensnared butt-crack on the stage, the cowgirl with the shortish brunette hair openly complains to her blonde cowgirl friend ("How disgusting," she says at one point). Basically telling her to relax, the blonde cowgirl dismisses her whining ass with extreme prejudice.
Pushed to the limit, the brunette cowgirl asks the bartender to use the telephone and promptly calls the police ("I need to report public nudity"). Now, you could say the brunette cowgirl is just being a good citizen. But I like to think she was trying suppress her attraction to women.
Sadly, after the call to the police is made, we never see the cowgirls again. Which is a shame, as I really think John De Hart had the makings of a compelling lesbian thriller/coming out movie on his hands. Whether he knew this or not isn't important. What is important, however, I was able to gleam something unexpected from a movie that doesn't purport to be about a closeted lesbian who likes country and western music.
Sandwiched between this non-lesbian coming out drama is a movie. Well, to call "GETEVEN" a movie is an insult to movies. This movie is like watching a Make-A-Wish wish gone terribly awry. When Wings Hauser, Pamela Jean Bryant and William Smith showed up to act in a movie called "Road to Revenge," they thought they were going help a sick little boy fulfill his dream of starring in a movie. Instead, they soon discovered that this sick little boy is in fact a middle-aged trial lawyer.
Too embarrassed to admit they were duped, Wings, Pam and William just went along with it, and the end result is the film you see here.
Starting off with some Manos: The Hands of Fate-style footage of Hollywood, we're not-so quickly ushered to the scene of the drug bust that alters the lives of three cops forever.
Just as Rick Bodie (John De Hart), Huck Finney (Wings Hauser) and Normad (William Smith), their commanding officer, are about to take down a drug den, a gun fight breaks out, one that leaves Huck wounded. When Normad shows indifference to Huck's suffering, Bodie knees him in the gut.
While we should be heading over to the courthouse to find out what the repercussions are for Bodie's ill-advised yet totally justified knee placement, we're instead shown Bodie practicing kung-fu and feeding his pet poodle a snack (if you look closely, you'll notice his poodle is a black belt).
Lying to the court, Normad manages to frame Bodie and Huck (he accuses them of misconduct). And as a result of this, he gets them kicked off the force. While I was impressed by the number of extras they had on hand to play the courtroom security guards, the production designer dropped the ball big time when it came to procuring convincing-looking courtroom tables (seriously, I've seen sturdier tables at bake sales). Anyway, while Bodie handles the news of their sacking in a calm and rational manner, Huck is clearly agitated; it's a good thing they had all that extra security on hand, or else Huck would have beat the living snot out of Normad.
Forced to get jobs as limo drivers, Bodie and Huck are doing the best they can given the circumstances.
Since limo drivers need to unwind just like everyone else, Bodie and Huck head over to Lanie's Bar for Cowboy Night. Sitting at the bar, nursing the largest glass of wine in human history, is Cynthia Westport (Pamela Jean Bryant), an old flame of Bodie's. And just as they're getting reacquainted, the other patrons demand that Bodie sing us a song. Five seconds into his song, "The Shimmy Slide," I began to feel uneasy. And, no, it wasn't because Cindy was wearing a sleeveless top with a marching band motif, it was because the song is terrible.
I'm not kidding, I don't know how much longer I can take this. Luckily, a gang of Satanists show up to harass Cindy. I don't want to toot my own horn, but I knew those Satanists were up to no good the moment I laid eyes on the guy with the bolo tie. Anytime you see a man wearing a bolo tie outside of Texas or New Mexico, walk the other way. Oh, and if the colour of the hair on his head is different than the colour of the hair on his beard--no matter what state you're in--run the other way.
Am I crazy, or does the redheaded waitress at Lanie's Bar look like Lisa London? I didn't see her name in the credits, but it definitely looks like her.
"I didn't come here to get grossed out" ~ Closeted Lesbian at Lanie's Bar on Cowboy Night
After bailing Huck out of jail (he got in a fight trying to protect Cindy from the Satanists), instructing the desk Sgt. to buy a personality with the quarter he just tossed in his general direction, and telling the maître d' at a fancy restaurant two lame doctor jokes in quick succession, Bodie recites the soliloquy from the Nunnery Scene in William Shakespeare's play Hamlet while sitting on a garden swing.
I'm getting the feeling that John De Hart has a check list of all things he's ever wanted to do in a movie (sing a country and western song for an audience made up of mostly closeted lesbians and former Playboy Playmates, check... punch Satanists in the face near a Mrs. Pac-Man machine, check), and I'm, unfortunately, being forced to watch.
I know, my arms and legs are not in restraints. So, technically, I'm not being forced to do anything. If that's the case, why can't I stop watching?
Sure, the promise that Pamela Jean Bryant will appear in black stockings at some point is helping me get through this tripe, but what's keeping me from running screaming from the room in the meantime? Two words: Wings Hauser.
Whether shooting holes in his unpaid bills with a revolver, getting in arguments with bar patrons who have no class...
Wait, is John De Hart paying tribute to Cabaret Voltaire with that shot of a television tuned to a dead channel? (I don't know about Cabaret Voltaire, but it's got a definite David Lynch vibe about it.) Either way, I told you this film was filled with surprises.
All right, where was I? Oh, yeah, Wings Hauser. Whether drinking bleach, getting in theological debates with nuns, promoting the "noble noises of Huckism" whilst standing in a pool with his clothes on flanked by two bikini clad women floating on air mattresses, Wings Hauser is off his meds from start to finish in this film.
(Don't forget photo-bombing Bode and Cindy's wedding ceremony.) Oh, man. I loved that part. The way he keep staggering into frame was so... ahhhh! And he's wearing an orange suit!!!! This can't be happening!
Blah, blah, blah, Bodie storms the Satanist's compound, kicks some ass, the end.
If you like movies, you should do yourself a favour and maybe think about not watching "GETEVEN." However, if you like milf-tastic milfs dancing erotically in milf-enhancing black stockings for the crotch-based benefit of a milf-loving trial lawyer, I'm afraid going to have to insist that you check out "GETEVEN" (pronounced: 'gay-teh-vehn') immediately.