Freaked (Tom Stern and Alex Winter, 1993)

Why does Keanu Reeves go uncredited as 'Ortiz the Dog Boy'? The only reason I ask is because I happen to think that this is probably the best performance of his career. If you're wondering why I say that it's "probably" his best performance instead of saying that it's "hands-down" his best performance is because I haven't seen Bram Stoker's Dracula since it came out on home video. I know, his performance as Jonathan Harkness was universally panned. But I have a sneaking suspicion that time has been kind to his performance in that particular motion picture and now is the perfect... What's that? You say time hasn't been kind to Keanu Reeves' performance in Bram Stoker's Dracula. Huh. Well, if that's the case. I can confidently declare Keanu Reeves' turn as Ortiz the Dog Boy in Freaked to be the best Keanu Reeves performance of all-time. Yes, I realize that Keanu Reeves is still alive and could technically still top his performance in Freaked. But let's get real, people. This is Ortiz the Dog Boy we're talking about. In other words, this is as good as it gets, Keanu-wise. Wow, where did that come from? I never in a millions years would have I guessed that I would open a review with such a surplus of Keanu-based jibber-jabbering. I initially wanted to get in a fake argument with myself about Michael Stoyanov's ethnicity. But my inner UN Secretary-General (Ban Ki-Yum-Yum?) has informed me that I should tread lightly when it comes to matters that involve Balkan-centric ethno-cultural identity. So, I put the subject on the back-burner. I still think he's Macedonian... (Bup-bup. Tread lightly.)

Anyway, I can't believe Keanu Reeves got mentioned before pus. Which is weird, because I love pus. And I also love projectile vomit. And loud Styrofoam cups. And leggy stewardesses named, oh, I don't know, Francesca. And worms that dream of wiping they're own asses. And trolls named Stuey. And TEC-9-toting Rastafarian eyeballs. And, of course, references to Jake and the Fat Man.

Oh. My. God. When freak show impresario Elijah C. Skuggs (Randy Quaid, my favourite Quaid, by the way - don't let the "Hollywood Star Whackers" bring you down) mentioned Jake and the Fat Man, I nearly lost it.

After about three straight minutes of J.A.T.F.M.-based losing it, I eventually found it. And when I did, I was shocked to discover that this movie is actually quite awesome. Sure, the film doesn't fully explore the gender identity crisis (a.k.a. gender dysphoria - which is something I'm going through big time at the moment*) that Ernie (Michael Stoyanov) and Julie (Megan Ward) face throughout the bulk of this movie. Nor do they fully explore the gender identity crisis  that Mr. T's Bearded Lady goes through, either.

He's told flat out that he would be better off without a dick. But is he? Is he better off? Honestly, I don't know. At least Elijah C. Skuggs lets her keep the beard... which was nice of him. He might be a weirdo, but he cares about his freaks. Well, sort of.

At any rate, imagine being attached to Megan Ward, like, all the time. Yeah, it sounds great on paper. But what if Megan Ward doesn't like you? And not only that, what if Megan Ward shows her dislike for you by punching you in the face? Even those who are adept at taking multiple punches to the face will grow tired of being repeatedly pummeled by an attractive blonde in a red beret. Oh, and don't bother running away. Wherever you go, Megan Ward goes. You know, because a mad scientist/card carrying weirdo glued you together using a controversial substance called Zygrot-24.

One of the perks of being the best friend of a successful television star is that you get to act like a douchey jackass on airplanes. The downside being, when said TV star decides to pursue/woo an attractive blonde environmentalist in a red beret (one who is down in South America protesting the very product your TV star friend is supposed to be promoting), you're the one who's probably going to feel a slightly coolish sensation on your hip area when the aforementioned mad scientist/card carrying weirdo starts slathering iridescent sludge all over it.

Actually, screw coolish, that iridescent sludge looks like it burns like a three-toed motherfucker.

Coolish, not coolish. The point is, being Ricky Coogan's best friend has its advantages and its disadvantages. Oh, Ricky Coogan. You greedy tool, you.

Played by Alex Winter, who also serves as the film's co-writer and co-director, Ricky Coogan is the star of the television series, Baker's Dozen, and Ghost Dude, a semi-successful movie about a... ghost... dude??? (the film's plot is never revealed).

Hoping to capitalize on his celebrity, the suits (i.e. William Sadler - the rest of the "suits" are skin-covered elderly puppets) over at E.E.S. (Everything Except Shoes) want Ricky to go to South American nation of Santa Flan (named after the patron saint of creamy desserts) to promote a banned fertilizer named–you guessed it–Zygrot-24.

Now, you would think that Ricky would be mucho eager to get down to the business of promoting Zygrot-24 given that he stands to earn five million dollars. But Ricky is too distracted by Megan Ward's Julie to focus on the task at hand. Down in Santa Flan to protest Zygrot-24, Julie is at first repulsed by Ricky, as he represents everything she's against in this world.

In a ironic twist, however, Julie starts to develop feelings for Ricky after he's transformed into a hideous freak.

It should be noted that Ricky's soulmate is actually Stuey Gluck (Alex Zuckerman), a loudmouth miscreant whom he shares a psychic connection with. Of course, the fact that Stuey (a.k.a. The Troll) is an obnoxious little kid will probably mean their relationship will be strictly platonic in nature. But still, I liked how Stuey goes out of his way to help Ricky in his time of need.

You could argue that the real star of Freaked isn't Alex Winter, Megan Ward or Brooke Shields as talk show host, Skye Daley, but special make-up artist, Screaming Mad George. Creating the looks for not one, but at least half a dozen freaks, Mr. Mad George's make-up work is astounding (I particularly liked the way Ricky Coogan's ghastly side glistened in the light of the moon).

And to make sure each freak is properly introduced, the film has a scene where an impromptu game of Hollywood Squares breaks out. Hosted by Keanu Reeves' Ortiz the Dog Boy, the game gives us our first look at many of the film's signature freaks.

Let's see, there was, Worm (Derek McGrath), Cowboy (John Hawkes), The Eternal Flame (Lee Arenberg), Rosie the Pinhead (Patti Tippo) and Bob Vila (Nicholas Cohn). Hold on, I don't think Bob Villa was a freak, he was just there to confuse audience members born after 1995.

In fact, there's a lot in this film that will confuse and bewilder people born after 1995. Yes, I realize that almost every film made before 1995 has the potential to confuse and bewilder today's youth. But not every film made before 1995 has a sly reference to Jake and the Fat Man. Or a Morgan Fairchild cameo, for that matter. Nonetheless, I would rather a film confuse and bewilder its audience than bore and anesthetize, that's for damn sure. And Freaked, the best merger of Freaks and The Great Escape to come out during the early 1990s, is definitely not boring. Not even close, bud!

* "At the moment"?!? Ha! Talk about being dishonest. More like the last twenty-five years. Extreme avoidant personality disorder + dysphoria = Pure hell. I'll be okay... hopefully.

Freeway (Matthew Bright, 1996)

Unchecked lewdness, moments of excessive violence, scenes of abhorrent tastelessness, and most importantly of all, it's funny as hell...in a dark, "Oh, no, she didn't!" kinda way. The rambunctious Freeway is a film that not only celebrates the tawdrier aspects of society (underage prostitution, girl-on-girl roughhousing, bilingual solicitation), but also manages to be one of the funniest films I have seen in a long-ass time. Using the classic folktale Little Red Riding Hood as his foundation, writer-director Matthew Bright (Forbidden Zone) has taken the story of a hood-wearing picnic enthusiast with a Grandmother fixation and turned it into a modern day allegory about sexual abuse, serial killers and parental ineptitude. In this souped-up version of the old-timey children's fable we follow the messed up adventures of teenage hellion, Vanessa Lutz (Reese Witherspoon), an illiterate, shapely legged little terror, who enjoys locking whoremonger's in the trunks of cars and making shanks in her spare-time. The film starts off with Vanessa's streetwalker mom (a scrumptiously sleazy Amanda Plummer) and deviant stepfather (a twitchy Michael T. Weiss) being arrested on the same day. And, as you would expect, the foulmouthed scamp is quite despondent. So she ditches her parole officer and hatches a plan to stay with Grandma, who lives up in Stockton, California (the town where Fat City was filmed and the birthplace of Pavement). Only problem is, her lemon of a car breaks down on the freeway. Fortunately (and I use that word carefully), a kindly stranger named Bob Wolverton (Kiefer Sutherland) offers to give her a ride the rest of the way.

Sexy and full of spunk, Reese Witherspoon blew the hell out of me as Vanessa, the sassiest piece of jailbait this side of Flin Flon. The scrunchy-faced actress completely destroys my image of her in this movie.

Discharging a rapid fire barrage of hilariously filthy put-downs at anyone within earshot, Reese gives an impassioned and volatile performance that left me dumbfounded. In Vanessa Lutz, Miss Witherspoon has created a character so enchanting, so endearing, that I get all tingly just thinking about her. Whether she's gently pistol-whipping necrophiliacs in the back of the head or beating a fellow inmate with a pay-phone receiver, Vanessa trampled her way into the blackened recesses of my perverted heart.

Her interrogation scene with the always reliable Dan Heydaya and Wolfgang Bodison (I loved the way he seemed aroused by Lutz' descriptions of her past crimes) is the best example of Reese's acting mettle (wonderfully unselfconscious and feisty to the max). This particular scene is also a great example of the film's very un-PC dialogue. I also adored the fact her step dad taught her how to make a juvie-quality shank.

Oh, and the look Reese's face in that picture detectives show to Kiefer when he's in the hospital was the funniest thing I've seen in years.

A girl-loving Brittany Murphy is totally awesome as Rhonda (Reese's slightly unhinged bunk-mate while she's in prison). The way she said the lines, "I'm in here for huffin' paint" and "They found a gram of tar up my kooch" had me rolling near the floor.

The lover of tacky fashion in me thinks Brooke Shields' seafaring wardrobe and dangly jewelry deserves major kudos. On top of that, I thought Tara Subkoff's leg brace was a wonderfully odd character touch; the makeup used to create Kiefer's grotesque smile was well-crafted; and Alanna Ubach's strangling technique was absolutely splendid in its ghastliness. You know what they say, nothing beats getting strangled to death in a gas station restroom.

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