Doctor Detroit (Michael Pressman, 1983)

Awash with the kind of politically incorrect humour that would most likely get you banished from today's overly sensitive outrage-verse, Doctor Detroit was originally intended to amuse the people of the 1980s (blue collar slobs, closeted white supremacists, unaware yuppies, middle-class geeks and shiftless wastoids and dweebies). In other words, why would anyone in their right mind watch it now? I have two words for you, and I think you all know what I'm about to say: Fran Drescher! I was thinking about faking you out by saying, oh, something like, Nan Martin. Who, don't get me wrong, is hilarious, and, not to mention, pretty hot, for an "old chick." But let's get real, there's only one reason to watch this completely asinine tale about a dorky English professor who gets coned into becoming a cyborg pimp named... "Doctor Detroit," by a high class Chicago pimp (Dr. Johnny Fever himself), and that reason is, to bask in the otherworldly beauty that is Fran Meshuggahumpin' Drescher. Though, to be fair to the film itself,  the opening credits sequence, the one that features a spry Dan Aykroyd power walking across town while Devo's "Theme from Doctor Detroit" blasts on the soundtrack, is kind of amazing. Who am I kidding? It's lots of amazing. I don't know, there's something about the sight of Dan Aykroyd walking really, really fast in red short shorts to the sound of Devo that brings me a shitload of joy.

Now, normally I would say something like this: Well, things can only go downhill from here. And, yes, while it's true, things do go downhill. The prospect that I will get to see Fran Drescher (UHF) tarting it up as Karen Blittstein, the slinkiest, leggiest whore this side of Archer Avenue, allowed me traverse this film's idiotic landscape with a buttery, Cumberbatchian ease.

That being said, I seriously have to question the logic of not sheathing Fran Drescher's womanly curves in a dress that boasted a slit during the Players Ball sequence. And if that's the case, how do you expect Fran's floozy character to shimmy without a slit? (The Players Ball, in case you don't know, is an annual event where pimps and their hos alike get to strut their stuff in front of their peers.)

I mean, Jasmine Wu (Lydia Lei, Vice Squad), the Asian one (I love how she uses a fake Engrish accent when speaking to men), Thelma Carter (Lynn Whitfield), the black one, and Monica McNeil (Donna Dixon), the blonde one, all get slits. What gives, Doctor Detroit?

Oh, and please don't make me play the anti-semitism card, as I don't want this review to become a scathing indictment of Hollywood discrimination (Jews can never seem to catch a break in the movie business). But I couldn't help but think that's what was happening as I watched Fran Drescher struggle to bust-a-move in her slitless gown. It's more tragic than anything else.

Did I let the fact that Fran Drescher's dress had no slit ruin my enjoyment of an otherwise harmless piece of filmed entertainment. Of course not, as the film provided no real enjoyment in the first place.

Just kidding, it's not that bad. The montage where Howard Hesseman's "Smooth Walker," and the aforementioned foursome of high-end escorts (a walking, talking Benetton Ad in heels), take a nerdy comparative literature professor named Clifford Skridlow (Dan Aykroyd) out to every nightclub in Chicago, for example, is teeming with righteous energy. If only the entire film could have maintained that "righteous energy" from start to finish. Oh, well.

I think the biggest problem is Doctor Detroit himself. The quality of the film seemed  to take a nosedive the moment Clifford Skridlow becomes Doctor Detroit. Seriously, I don't know what they were thinking when they came up with the Doctor Detroit's voice, as it's beyond irritating.

The reason the mild-mannered Clifford Skridlow becomes über-pimp Doctor Detroit is a convoluted as you might expect. To deflect attention away from his own pimp-related problems, Smooth tells Mom (Kate Murtagh), a powerful pimp who rules Chicago's criminal underworld with an iron fist, that a pimp named "Doctor Detroit" is taking over her turf. And since Doctor Detroit doesn't really exist, Smooth convinces Clifford Skridlow to play the part.

First noticing him while he was out power walking to Devo, Smooth runs into Clifford Skridlow later that day while dining at an Indian restaurant. Using Fran Drescher and the other three ladies as bait, Smooth manages to win over Cliff over. It also didn't hurt that Smooth drowns Cliff's nervous system in drugs and alcohol.

After his crazy night is over, Cliff goes back to work at Monroe College. Little does he know, but Cliff's a pimp now. He even has a limo driver, played by T.K. Carter (The Thing), and access to a vulgar penthouse filled with utterly tasteless furnishings.

Even though Fran Drescher's legs are visible multiple times over the course of the film, Dan Aykroyd's legs are mentioned at least four times. As you might expect, this annoyed me like you wouldn't believe. Granted, it wasn't as annoying as the whole slit debacle during the Players Ball sequence, but it still irked me.

Did anyone else find it mildly interesting that Smooth refers to Mom's minions as the "Yul Brynner clones" and as a "cue-ball convention" at one point? The only reason I ask is because society viewed male baldness differently thirty years ago. Nowadays, you see men with shaved heads almost everywhere and no one seems to care. But back in 1983, it was still pretty rare. In fact, in some circles, male baldness was met with open hostility. Simply put, if you weren't a Buddhist monk or Yul Brynner/Telly Savalas you and your hairless dome were viewed with suspicion.

What the? Why am I talking about male baldness when I could be blathering on and on about Fran Drescher's wicked organic structure? Bizarre. Truly bizarre. Anyway, take special note of Clifford's dream sequence, as it's your best opportunity to see Fran Drescher in sexy lingerie in the entire film. Unfortunately, the camera doesn't linger on Fran's stocking encased gams for all that long, so you might have to pause the video to get the full effect. Which is a shame, because Frannies shouldn't have to resort to such flapdoodle to get an eyeful of Fran.

In a surprise twist, Lynn Whitfield gets a nice stocking-related close-up near the end of the film. Of course, you might miss it, as it takes place as T.K. Carter and Fran Drescher are on-screen (since actor Howard Hesseman collected his check and got the hell out of there, T.K. and Fran are saddled with doing the majority of the heavy-lifting, comedy-wise... which makes sense, as they're both talented comedians). At any rate, if you look at the left side of the screen, you will notice that Lynn is sheepishly putting her stockings on. I can't believe I almost missed this.

In closing, Doctor Detroit doesn't really deserve the amount of attention I've given it. If you're fan of Fran Drescher or even Dan Aykroyd, I guess you should watch it. On the other hand, you''re probably better off just watching Jekyl and Hyde... Together Again, as it as way funnier and way more politically incorrect.

Oh, and why is Glenne Headly (Making Mr. Right) listed in the credits as "Miss Debbylike"? She has no dialogue and she's only on-screen for a few seconds. I'm thinking there must have been a subplot involving Dan Aykroyd and one of his students, and it was obviously cut out of the movie.

Into the Night (John Landis, 1985)

As with most people, my initial thoughts after watching John Landis' Into the Night revolved around the unequaled chic-ness that is Michelle Pfeiffer's red leather jacket. If you find yourself not enamored with it after watching this film, check yourself in at the nearest morgue, 'cause you be dead, honey. Okay, maybe that's a tad harsh, but you should definitely seek professional help. I mean, it's red, it's shiny, it's fits her perfectly, it has multiple uses (it's used as a pillow at one point), and it's, well, you get the idea. However, as these thoughts eventually subsided, I started to debate with myself about whether or not the iconic red leather jacket would have looked better on Dedee Pfeiffer, Michelle's less famous sister. I know, I just got finished saying that the jacket fit Michelle Pfeiffer perfectly. Yet I couldn't help but imagine Dedee Pfeiffer wearing the much-ballyhooed garment. To make matters worse, Dedee Pfeiffer has a cameo as a prostitute turning tricks outside Frederick's of Hollywood. In case you haven't figured it out, when it comes to the Pfeiffer sisters, I'm on Team Dedee. While Michelle has the haunting eyes and the chiseled cheekbones thing going for her, Dedee has spunk-appeal.

Wow, are my priorities out of whack or what? In a movie that boasts at least a dozen cameos by famous directors, the cameo I decide to focus on is the one by the spunk-laden sister of the film's female lead.

Actually, if you think about it, my priorities are not out of whack, they're kinda in whack. Seriously, who would you rather grope in the backseat of your grandma's sister's cousin's Chevrolet El Camino? Dedee Pfeiffer or Paul Mazursky? (I don't think the Chevy El Camino has a backseat.) Okay, the front seat. Well? Who would you rather grope? Exactly, Dedee all the way.

Of course, if I had said Amy Heckerling (who has a cameo as a waitress) instead of Mr. Mazursky, the question becomes a real mind-scrambler, as Amy is a total babe. But I didn't. Besides, the majority of the directors are middle-aged white men. Not that there's anything wrong with being middle-aged, or white for that matter, it's just that...

Moving on, you could call this the L.A. version of After Hours, but I won't. Why? It's simple, really, all they have in common is that they both take place at night. Sure, Jeff Goldblum and Griffin Dunne (the star of After Hours) have similar character traits, and they both have tedious jobs, but other than that, they're totally different. And I think the main reason has to do with the fact that L.A. is a car town, while New York City is not.

Playing aerospace engineer Ed Okin, Jeff Goldblum drives or is driven in at least six different cars over the course of this movie. Isn't that fascinating? Anyway, the car we first see Ed in is as bland as he is. Stuck in traffic with a co-worker (Dan Aykroyd), Ed says that he hasn't had a full night sleep since the summer of 1980. While he's exaggerating to some degree, his lack of shut-eye is having a negative effect on his work. After blowing it in front of his boss (David Cronenberg) at an important board meeting, Ed decides to take the rest of the day off. When he gets home, he hears his real estate agent wife (Stacey Pickren) making sex noises in their bedroom.

Taking Dan Aykroyd's advice, a despondent Ed elects to hop on a board a midnight flight to Las Vegas. Getting as far as the airport parking garage, Ed meets a woman named Diana (Michelle Pfeiffer), who jumps on the hood of his car screaming for help.

What's that? Oh, the reason she's screaming is because four SAVAK goons (one played by John Landis) are trying to kill her. Why are they trying to kill her? Well, I don't know if they want to kill her, at least not right away. You see, they want what's inside her pussy. I won't say exactly what it is that the Iranians want, but trust me, to them it's worth what they go through to get inside there. And by "there," I mean her pussy.

At this point in the film, Ed makes multiple attempts to extract himself from this sticky pickle of a situation. However, you'll notice that he isn't trying very hard. The thing is, a lot of men find Michelle Pfeiffer to be easy on the eyes. And because of this, Michelle Pfeiffer is able to manipulate almost every man she comes in contact with. The reason I say "almost" is because Diana's Elvis-loving brother (Bruce McGill) is clearly not swayed by her sister's overt attractiveness.

I thought it was amusing that Michelle Pfeiffer tries to out bluster Bruce McGill in his Elvis memorabilia adorned apartment. Give it up, girl, you can't upstage Bruce McGill. He'll straight-up knock your dick in the dirt. Just ask Wings Hauser ("Wipe that smirk off your face!"). Or even Crocket and Tubbs, who Bruce mops the floor with in "Out Where the Buses Don't Run," one of the best Miami Vice episodes from season two.

"You wanna date? Do you want to party?" and with those memorable lines, we're introduced to Dedee Pfeiffer, prostitute, humanitarian. Her crimped blonde hair glowing in the neon slime, her Retail Slut belts zigzagging across her womanly waste with a clingy form of clingy desperation, her zebra print skirt practically begging to be hiked up during the throes of... Wait, where is she going? Why don't Ed and Diana want to "party" with Dedee Pfeiffer? This makes no sense.

Now, I won't say Into the Night goes completely downhill/off the rails after Dedee Pfeiffer exits stage left; after all, a well-built Kathryn Harrold is still to come. But I was somewhat crestfallen by her departure. That being said, on top of the luminous Miss Harrold, the film also boasts a scene where three extras playing beauty queens are getting their legs polished by a female crew member.

After surviving multiple attempts on their life, including one by an assassin played by David Bowie (it would seem that the Iranians are not the only ones who want to get their hands on what's inside Michelle Pfeiffer's pussy), Ed and Diana begin to... well, you pretty much know exactly what they begin to do. They begin to fall for one another. Despite this cliched turn of events, the movie is still a mildly entertaining mish-mash of comedy and action.

If you're not into comedy and action, you could always play spot the director, as the film, like I said earlier, features numerous cameos by famous directors, including personal faves like, Amy Heckerling (Fast Times at Ridgemont High), Paul Bartel (Eating Raoul) and David Cronenberg (Rabid).

Oh, and the scene where the four SAVAK goons drown one of their victims in the ocean is one of the most disturbing murder scenes in film history. Okay, maybe that's pushing it a bit. Nevertheless, I found the cavalier brutality of the scene to be quite jarring, especially since the film is supposedly a light-hearted buddy comedy.

Mr. Mike's Mondo Video (Michael O'Donoghue, 1979)

The perfect film to play on a blurry television set overlooking the bar of a garish, porno-friendly nightclub on the outskirts of a once vibrant neighbourhood, Mr. Mike's Mondo Video might not be the most educational of the so-called "mondo" movies I've seen over the past sixty or so years, but it's definitely the most randomly interesting one. A demented and slightly warped product of the mind of Michael O'Donoghue, the video is a disjointed mishmash of dreamlike ideas that go nowhere, yet everywhere at the same time. A heady feat for a film that dares you not to masturbate to Dan Aykroyd's partially webbed feet. Just a second. I can't believe Dan Aykroyd's feet were mentioned before the sight of a statuesque Wendie Malick in radioactive lingerie. I don't know about you, but I think that's pretty messed up. I wonder what compelled me to mention his stinky, misshapen feet as my opening salvo? Very bizarre, very Mondo. Anyway, hit and miss in terms of being tolerable, the film never once goes for the easy laugh. Of course, that could have been because it wasn't funny in the first place (most awesome things are). But the rapid fire nature of the film's overall structure kept things so unpredictable, that you couldn't really focus on what was delightfully stupid and what was insufferably stupid. Either way, the scattershot endeavour, that features everyone from Bill Murray and Deborah Harry to Margot Kidder and Klaus Nomi, is a fascinating document of what Saturday Night Live could have become had the lunatics been given free reign to do what their unhinged brains were designed to do – which is to produce weird comedy that is more unpleasant than it is whimsical.
  
Oh, and I liked the abundance of bunny rabbits that appear throughout the video, and I have come to the conclusion that Paul Anka's anus is sometimes full of an inordinate amount of poop.

Favourite Mondo Moments:

"American Gals Love Creepy Men"
(Every cool chick in New York City at the time is featured in this bit. Including the sexy Wendie Malick and the lovely Laraine Newman.)
("When I reach down and feel a firm colostomy bag, I know I'm with a real man.")

"Klaus Nomi performs 'Samson & Delia'" and "Looking up Cheryl Tieg's dress"
(I wonder if the crotch they used--I doubt Miss Tiegs allowed her own crotch to be used--is the same crotch Wendie Malick wears on a day-to-day basis?)

"The general hotness of Wendie Malick" and "The insane amount of Rinse Dreamian posturing"
(Uh-huh.)

"Christmas on Other Planets" and "Japanese girls bathing in dolphin blood"
(I couldn't help but notice that one of the light bulbs the Christmas celebrating alien was smashing got away from him/her/it.)

"The demonstration of the Laser Bra 2000" (Featuring the exquisite tallness of Wendie Malick.)
(My outer pervert kept thinking: "Get undressed slower. Slower! The military industrial complex ain't going nowhere." My inner pervert didn't think anything, as she was killed in a horrific blimp accident in the early 1480s. Wait a minute: a "horrific" blimp accident? Yeah, as supposed to a pleasant blimp accident. Prat.)

"Gig Young's groceries" and "Nazi oven mitts"
(Tasteless. In that, Gig will never taste those groceries.)

"Wendie Malick smoking a cigarette while wearing Radioactive Lingerie"
(Try Annie Sprinkle's special secretion sauce - Now banned in Bhutan!)


video uploaded by Shout! Factory

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