Are you sitting down? (Do I have to?) No, I really think you should be sitting down to hear what I'm about to say. Okay, so, there's this horror movie from the late 1980s called "Slaughterhouse Rock." It stars Toni Basil as the ghost of a dead rock star who is forever doomed to haunt Alcatraz. And are you ready for this? You don't get to see Toni Basil until at least the forty minute mark. Can you believe this shit? Yes, I realize there needs to be some build up before you unleash Toni Basil and her spectacular gams on an audience. But forty minutes?!? C'mon, man. This is ridiculous. No offense to Hope Marie Carlton (who helped me get through a number of those awful Andy Sidaris turds) and those kind of interchangeable brunette chicks, but there's no way they can compete with Toni when it comes to talent. She sings, she dances, she acts, she wears funny hats, she does it all. So, I'll ask again: What gives, movie I just watched? Why are you wasting mine and everyone else's time like this? I mean, you're clearly a movie that possesses zero originality (everything looks like it's been cobbled together from ideas stolen from better movies). Yet, you had an ace up your sleeve in the form of Toni Basil and, not to mention, Mark Mothersbaugh and Gerald V. Casale from Devo doing all the music, and what did you do? You squandered them. Squandered the living fuck out of them.
I'm not mad. I'm just disappointed. Think about it. Toni Basil shows up on set wearing a leopard print jacket and zebra print pants, and what do you do? You.... you drop the ball, that's what you do. Seriously, we're talking leopard print and zebra print all within the same outfit.
You know how many movies I've slogged through over the years waiting for someone to show up wearing an outfit that boasts leopard and zebra print elements? I don't know the exact number, but trust me, it's a lot. And when they finally do show up wearing the animal print combo I so crave, and it's being worn by none other than Toni Basil, I have to endure the frightfully lame Slaughterhouse Rock in order to do so.
I'm telling you right now, life isn't fair. And there's no greater example of life's unfairness than the mental drudgery I had to undergo while I watched in horror as Toni Basil's wardrobe fiasco/masterpiece be neglected by a brain-sick cabal of no talent twaddle pushers. That's right, the people who made this film push twaddle. They peddle twaddle. In fact, they wallow in twaddle. How else can you explain such a high level of unabashed egregiousness?
Granted, we do get a couple of nice shots of Toni Basil's killer legs during a key scene. I think it's the one where Toni Basil's "Sammy Mitchell" does some kind of voodoo dance to resurrect the spirit from the body of the still living Alex Gardner (Nicholas Celozzi), a teen with thick, dark Mediterranean hair. But the only reason we get a voodoo dance is because Toni took the director, Dimitri Logothetis, aside and asked them if she could bust a few moves. Her logic being: If you're not going to try to inject this turkey with any life, I might as well give it a shot.
Of course, I have no proof this scenario actually took place. But I decided early on that anytime something not lame occurs in this film, someone other than the people responsible for making it had to be behind it.
Since the description of the plot on the internet movie database written by an anonymous user is pretty succinct, so, I think I'll use it. Why not?
I'm paraphrasing: A dark-haired teen and his friends (and his dark-haired brother) travel to Alcatraz prison (at night of course) after said dark-haired teen has disturbing dreams about the people who died there. Soon after they arrive, the dark-haired teen's dark-haired brother is possessed by an evil cannibal demon. The ghost of a female heavy metal singer (Toni Basil) tries to help the dark-haired teen fight the monsters that are haunting his dreams and the island itself.
I think that makes sense. Well, it technically doesn't make sense. But it's pretty much the gist of the plot.
One by one, the dark-haired teens friends are attacked by the demon version of the dark-haired teen's dark-haired brother. And after each friend is attacked, they come back as wisecracking ghosts with gnarly neck wounds. Which, as most people know, is a trope borrowed from An American Werewolf in London. And, like I said, earlier, every moment in this film is taken from a better, more entertaining movie.
Which sums up this movie perfectly. Sure, not every horror movie stars Toni Basil and is loaded with late '80s era Devo songs, but there are literally hundreds of horror movies that are better than this piece of crap.
As for trigger warnings: There's an awful rape scene (it's so casual, ugh) / The dark-haired teen blames his weird dreams on his hormones (anytime hormones are mentioned I would feel uneasy) / Even though there are way too many men in this film... at least they all had plenty of hair on their heads.
Given that this film is saturated with references to the founding of the United States of America, I thought I was going to be completely lost when it came time to decipher it as a piece of filmed entertainment. Then it dawned me, I know a shitload, maybe even a fuckload (if such a load actually exists), about America. You could even say that I know more about America than most Americans. Sure, I couldn't recite the Pledge of Allegiance if you held a registered hand gun to my head and I'm a firm believer in three down football, but I can name all the state capitals and I know the names of at least half the presidents. Hell, I even remember watching Schoolhouse Rock! as a kid. In other words, my foreign ass totally knows how a bill becomes a law. Thankfully, having knowledge of any kind floating around in your head is completely unnecessary when it comes to enjoying The Spirit of '76, the righteously groovy slice of nepotism a go-go that's been endorsed by Devo. All you need to know is that the United States Constitution is a very important document and you should be good to go. (I thought you said the film was, and I quote, "saturated with references to the founding of the United States of America.") Nah, I didn't mean that. I was just trying to scare you. The film's message can actually be applied to almost any country that feels like it's lost its way. To be honest, I'm way more interested in the love triangle that forms between Olivia D'Abo, David Cassidy and Leif Garrett. (Hold up. You mean to tell me that while you were boring us about your supposed knowledge of American history and culture, that you could have been talking about a love triangle between Olivia D'Abo, David Cassidy and Leif Garrett?!?) I guess.
(Do you know how rare this is?) How rare what is? (Think about it. Year after year, we see the same stupid faces, acting in the same stupid movies.) I don't understand. (Remember that brief period of time when Kate Hudson–speaking of nepotism a go-go–was in every other movie?) Yeah. (Well, that's what I'm getting that. It's the same people appearing over and over again. Okay, now how many movies are there that star both David Cassidy and Leif Garrett?) I don't know, how many? (Zero!) Are you sure? You might want to double check that. (No way, man, I don't need to. I'm confident when I say The Spirit of '76 is the only film with the guts to cast David Cassidy and Leif Garrett as its leads.)
I don't want to cause you to spill maple syrup all over your maxi-pads, but don't they suck? (Oh my God! I can't believe you just said that. No, they don't suck. If anything, they're complete opposite of something that sucks.) You mean they rule? (Yeah, they kinda do...rule, that is. You heard right, David Cassidy and Leif Garrett rule in this movie. And they totally almost come to blows over the gorgeous Olivia D'Abo, the actress who first won us over in Flying, the second greatest leotard-centric movie to come out of the Great White North during the 1980s; the greatest being, of course, Heavenly Bodies.)
Hey, get your head out of the 1980s, this film, written and directed by Lucas Reiner, is all about celebrating the 1970s. (Are you sure about that? I mean, the decade is mocked pretty hard in this film.) That's true, there's quite a lot of mocking going on. But if you look at the film's final scene, it's clear that the mockery comes from a place of love. You could even view the film as confirmation that the decade was the nation's cultural nadir, and that if the country doesn't get back to the fun-loving and frivolous ways that defined the decade, it could find itself turning into the drab, colourless landscape that it becomes in the year 2176.
You know how nothing is hardly even written down on paper anymore? Well, that decision, according this film, is going to bite humanity in the ass in a big way. You see, when a magnetic storm wipes out all the computers, history, specifically, the history of United States of America, ceases to exist.
Members of The Ministry of Knowledge, who are, of course, played by Devo, want to repair the damage the magnetic storm caused by piecing together the fabric of America. Turning to Dr. Von Mobil (Carl Reiner), one of the last Americans who remembers what the country was like before the magnetic storm wiped everything out, Devo, mostly Mark Mothersbaugh and Gerald V. Casale, ask him for his advice on how to re-build the nation; it has become a grey, ashy place devoid of joy.
If you wanna fix America, you're going to have to start at the beginning. And according to what I have gleamed from American television over the years, it began on July 4, 1776.
The Ministry of Knowledge, along with Heinz-57 (Geoff Hoyle), who runs the sector of psycho-historical inquiries, and Chanel-6 (Olivia D'Abo), the nation's foremost epistemological anthro-sociologist, offer Adam-11 (David Cassidy), the inventor of a time machine, as much tetrahydrozoline-6 (the stuff that makes his time machine run) as he wants, if he agrees to take Heinz-57 and Chanel-6 back to 1776. Since he's only interested in visiting "Ikiki Beach" (the "wa" on the Waikiki post card he carries around with him are missing - anything with printing on it is cherished in 2176), he declines their offer.
Of course, I forgot to mention that he didn't know Olivia D'Abo would be going with him. And let's just say, his attitude regarding the mission changes greatly once he learns that he will be stuck in a cramped time machine with Olivia D'Abo for who knows how long.
Setting the coordinates to 1776, Adam-11, Heinz-57 and Chanel-6 should be hanging out with George Washington and Button Gwinnett in no time.
(Call me crazy, but I don't think any of the Founding Fathers looked like the guys from Redd Kross.) Oh, I don't know, put a powdered wig on them and give them some buckled footwear, and I'm sure they could pull it off. (Um, hello, I don't think Thomas Jefferson rode a banana chopper four with quarter spokes and full knobbies. And he definitely didn't have a Gene Simmons patch sewn on the crotch of his pants.) Actually, the patch was adjacent to his crotch, it wasn't actually on it. (Whatever, it's clearly not 1776.)
The year is '76, but just not the one they expected. Something must have went wrong with the time machine. It doesn't matter, 'cause, funny thing, Adam-11, Heinz-57 and Chanel-6 still seem to think that it's 1776. We know it's 1976, but to them, it's acceptable to think that people wore tube tops, listened to Grand Funk Railroad, and drove yellow AMC Pacers back in 1776; they have no frame of reference.
(Speaking of tube tops, when are you going to get around to talking about Moon Unit Zappa? After all, she's the real reason you watched this film in the first place, isn't it?) No, I watched it because I was interested in the subject matter. What can I say? I've always been fascinated by time travel and American history. (What can you say?!? It sounds like what you "can say" is a steaming pile of horseshit.)
(Word on the street is that your obsession with all things Moon Unit Zappa has become so pronounced, that you can't even think straight.)
Okay, you're right, I am obsessed. But can you blame me? I mean, look at her. Her beauty is, like, transcendental and junk.
Anyway, let me get this out of the way before I continue down this path. When Adam-11, Heinz-57 and Chanel-6 arrive in 1976, they're greeted by Chris Johnson (Jeffrey McDonald) and Tommy Sears (Steve Johnson), two best buds who use the sight of Moon Unit Zappa in a tube top as beat-off material. Keen to help the wayward newcomers, Chris and Tommy agree to hide Adam-11's time ship at their "crash pad" - you know, keep it from the prying eyes of a couple of C.I.A. agents (played by The Kipper Kids) and Rodney Snodgrass (Liam O'Brien), an obnoxious pustule who would look great in drag (his bone structure practically screams fabulous).
Now that we got that out of the way, let's head to "Planet Earth," a local clothing store, to get Adan-11, Heinz-57 and Chanel-6 some new duds, 'cause the colour grey has no place in 1976. And guess who works at "Planet Earth"? You guessed it, Moon Unit Zappa!
Reading "Future Shock" by Alvin Toffler when the time travelers enter the store, Cheryl Dickman (Moon Unit Zappa)... (Hey, wait a second, if grey has no place in 1976, why is Cheryl Dickman's tube top grey? Answer that, smart guy.) Are you sure it isn't silver? (Are you kidding?) Whatever, man, Moon Unit Zappa is, like, wearing a tube top and a pair of super-short jean shorts. (Yeah, you're right.) So, where was I? Oh, yeah, Cheryl Dickman notices Adam-11 looking at shirts.
Asking if Adam-11 if he needs any help, Cheryl Dickman, making sure he catches a glimpse of her stunning calves as she approaches him, uses the old "my mood ring totally changed colours" trick to break the ice.
It obviously worked, as Adam-11 is hanging on her every word, even as she rambles semi-coherently about astrology.
The biggest tragedy about The Spirit of '76 is that Cheryl Dickman tells Adam-11 that she will see him later, but she totally doesn't. (Totally doesn't what?) She totally doesn't see him later. (Meaning?) Meaning, that's it as far as Moon Unit Zappa goes in this movie. (You must have been totally crestfallen.) You bet your ass I was totally crestfallen. I was also totally depressed, totally dejected, totally despondent, totally downcast and totally dispirited. In other words... No, wait, other words won't be necessary, as I think I totally just used all of them.
The second biggest tragedy is that Eddie Trojan (Leif Garrett) doesn't score with Chanel-6. (Who the fuck is Eddie Trojan?!?) Um, he's Eddie Trojan, a.k.a. The Bonemaster. Duh, where have you been? (Doesn't he, at one point, prevent Tommy Chong from dipping his cannabis-stained dick in some free range D'Abo pussy at Hocus Smokus?) Yeah, so? (I'm just saying.) Either way, I thought Leif Garrett and Olivia D'Abo had great chemistry together.
While Eddie Trojan is desperately trying to get inside Chanel-6's tight, lacey, purple pants, Heinz-57 receives a history lesson from Ms. Liberty (Julie Brown), a peepshow stripper/constitutional scholar in red stockings and red opera gloves, attends a self-help seminar being given by Rob Reiner (his way of helping people seems limited to calling them assholes), and gets in a heated argument with a large man waiting in line to buy gas.
In case you're wondering what Adam-11 is getting up to while all this is going on, he's hanging out with Red Kross at their crash pad. Nooice. No, seriously, it's pretty sweet. The art direction, the use of bright colours, the juvenile humour, the costumes (by a teenage Sofia Coppola), the music (every crappy/awesome '70s song you can imagine is featured on the soundtrack), Moon Unit Zappa in a tube top, everything about this movie is agreeable. Sure, I thought Eddie Trojan got shafted, but, in a way, Eddie Trojan, and 1976 in general, help save the future. I wouldn't be surprised if they put Eddie Trojan's face on Mount Rushmore in the year 2176. Don't tell anyone this, but if I could ovulate, I would totally have Eddie Trojan's baby.
While I didn't tear up during the final scene, I did catch myself trying to prevent a sly smirk from appearing on my face on several occasions. And you know what they say? Self-stylized sly smirk obstruction is the highest form of flattery.
