Streets of Fire (Walter Hill, 1984)

Starting your movie by flashing the words, A Rock & Roll Fable" on the screen and ending with the epic bombast of "Tonight Is What It Means To Be Young" are just two of the many attention-getting touches that elevate Streets of Fire (Walter Hill's phenomenal ode to music and machismo) beyond the realm of store-bought vapidity. Played extremely straight at times, this potentially hokey tale about a trench coat-wearing tough guy who fights for love and money has just the right amount of sincerity to it, that it avoids being a parody at every turn. Filled with neon signs, rain soaked girders, forthright loners and lots of leather, the world Mr. Hill is wallowing in is sort of similar to the one he orchestrated in The Warriors in that there's a kind of dreamlike unreality permeating the proceedings. However, the raucous period piece, that takes place during a nonspecific mishmash of the 1950s and the 1980s, is quite different. For starters, the gang in this film is just one guy. Sure, he employs others to complete the task at hand, but the way he man handled those Roadmaster wimps proves that he doesn't need help from anyone, as it was a thing of ass kicking beauty. (I would wager that at least two of those chumps died of embarrassment during their long slunks home.) And secondly, the soundtrack makes its presence felt from start to finish. From the boisterous crowd pleasers that bookend the film to sweaty biker rock of the Torchy's sequence, the music drives the simplistic narrative hard and fast in the general direction of its righteous conclusion.

The disaffected Tom Cody (Michael Paré) is called upon to retrieve Ellen Aim (Diane Lane), his rock star ex-girlfriend, at the request of his wide-eyed sister Reva (Deborah Van Valkenburgh) after she is kidnapped by Raven (Willem Dafoe), the leader of the Blasters Bombers, a gang of unruly motorcycle enthusiasts. Even though he's proven that he can handle himself in almost any situation, Tom brings along Billy Fish (Rick Moranis), Ellen's manager, who knows the neighbourhood, and the equally disaffected McCoy (Amy Manigan) as backup.

On top of being fraught with danger (the bikers are renowned for their unpleasantness), their rescue mission will include run ins with The Sorels (a singing group lead by Stoney Jackson), police roadblocks, and adorable groupies (E.G. Daily plays a hanger-on named Baby Doll). Of course, none of the people I just mentioned get along with one another, which leads lots of bickering, humourous put-downs and male posturing.

A colossal slab of uninhibited manliness, Michael Paré's Tom Cody ("Pleased to meet you") is one of the most straightforward, no-nonsense anti-heroes in cinematic history. My pussy seemed to get wetter than a Cambodian toilet every time he would annoyingly turn around to utter uncomplicated verbiage at someone who dared to interrupt his rigorous brooding regiment. In other words, his tough guy act is the stuff erotic dreams are made of. I mean, to be rescued by such an unabashedly masculine figure must have been tantamount to titillation torture to those who saw it during their developmental stage.

Viewed from an expandable penis point of view, the exuberant dancing of Marine Jahan at Torchy's was the definite highlight from a heterosexual male angle. Actually, I think almost everyone, no matter what the shape of your equipment, can appreciate what Miss Jahan brought to Streets of Fire, as the wildly physical dancer swayed and thrust the air like a deranged humping machine.

The sheer villainy of Willem Dafoe as Raven was a menacing tour de force. (Mmmm, leather overalls... and the prerequisite back acne that comes with them.) And the fight between Tom Cody and Raven with those axe/hammer things was topnotch in terms of brute strength and unflashy swinging. The weapon itself was rather frightening. I wouldn't want to be struck by it that's for sure.

To be honest, I don't exactly know what perverted subgroup this particular section is geared towards. But I know for a fact that people who have a rational proclivity for women in fingerless gloves will go nuts for the amount of fingerless-ness that goes on in this flick. This tight-knit cabal who love it when fingers poke through gloves that are purposely missing the material of the glove where the fingers normally go will get to see Diane Lane, Marine Jahan and E.G. Daily all appear in a state of being completely fingerless at one time or another.

All bring the digit-based sexy, but if I had to give the sexy edge to someone, it would have to be Miss Lane. The way the light hit her fingers as she mouthed the words to "Nowhere Fast" in those long leather babies was quite the ethereal sight.

I think that covers everything. Let me see: Michael Paré creates the kind of moisture that your house plants have no use for, Willem Dafoe is an asshole, but looked cool in shiny overalls, Marine Jahan proves that you don't need long hair and large chest melons to be sexy. Fingerless gloves. What else? Oh yeah, I thought E.G. Daily's character could have been fleshed out a bit more. But then again, her Baby Doll technically should have kicked to the curb the moment Rick Moranis told her to scram. And you know what they say, a little E.G. is better than no E.G.

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Ladies and Gentlemen, the Fabulous Stains (Lou Adler, 1981)

After years of toiling in extreme obscurity, the ultimate "lost movie," Ladies and Gentlemen, The Fabulous Stains, has finally been introduced to my frontal lobe. The fact that my memory bank went so long without the image of a teenage Diane Lane (Streets of Fire) in florescent make-up and fishnets is not only a disgrace, it's a travesty of galactic proportions. My brain is literally filled to the brim with gallons useless crap; imbecilic nonsense and repugnant visual stimuli that I can never get rid off (eight seasons worth of Big Brother, Temptation Island, the cinematic works of Kate Hudson, I Love New York, hours of Bukkake). And to not have this in there is probably one of the greatest tragedies of the modern era. Well, I guess can stop whining, because it's in there; it's in my brain now. When some people use the term "meteoric" to describe the rise and fall of The Fabulous Stains, an unseasoned punk trio fronted by Corinne Burns, an ill-mannered brat and minor local celebrity (her firing from her fast food job by Data from Star Trek: The Next Generation was aired on television), they ain't exactly kidding. Brilliantly skewering everything from fads, trends, and bloated dinosaur rock to the fleeting nature of fame, media fueled hype, and the whorification of rock, the film moves at a nimble pace.

The expedient manner in which the brand-new band is thrust into the limelight was jarring. In that, one minute their moping around the bland interiors of Aunt Linda's house, and the next there on a grubby tour bus with The Looters (punk supergroup made up of members The Clash and the Sex Pistols) and The Metal Corpses (an over-the-hill glam rock group led by Fee Waybill of The Tubes). This narrative spryness actually made the Stains' first appearance on stage all the more intriguing.

Whether their first gig was a success or not is hard to say, but I do know there was an angry young wanker sitting at the bar who was deeply impressed. The disagreeable Billy, the lead singer of The Looters was obviously quite taken by the petite, yet feisty head of the Fabulous Stains, just like Corinne was when she first saw The Looters perform (I love how captivated she was by Billy's utter disdain for the audience).

Of course, the two of them being tempestuous ninnies who bleed punk rock swagger ain't gonna move the relationship forward in a healthy direction. However, it's good that they pretend not to like each other, as it makes their inevitable hookup all the more satisfying. (I don't usually care for the whole "revulsion miraculously turns into romance" story device, but I did like it here.)

Now, the idea of thousands of adolescent girls imitating Corinne and fellow Stains' look might seem iffy on paper, especially when you factor in the speed in which the punk-infused phenomenon envelopes the group. But the second you see Diane Lane all gussied up in the aforementioned make-up and fishnets, you will no doubt nod to yourself in agreement. The look Lane sports in Ladies and Gentlemen, The Fabulous Stains blew me way. And the fact that I was so mesmerized by her outward appearance, only solidifies the film's point about the ease in which some people can be manipulated. That being said, it wasn't just the look itself that sold me. Sure, a borderline pre-teen Laura Dern and Marin Kanter, who play the other members of the Stains, boast the same hair and make-up, but there was something extraordinary about Miss Lane in this film.

Every time she appeared onscreen, my mind would literally implode. There was just something about the way the red eye make-up glistened on her pale skin. I'm telling you, it's a beautiful thing.

Spellbinding facial decoration aside, the rocky relationship between Diane's Stain leader and Ray Winstone's Looter frontman is the film's punky nucleus. I can't praise Diane Lane enough (well, I can, but I don't feel I need to). Anyway, the boisterous stage presence, the surly disposition, she's amazing as Corinne. Diane's greatness is something I expected. I mean, she's proven herself in countless movies since appearing as a Stain.

The sight of a baby-faced Ray Winstone leading a group of punk all-stars, on the other hand, is something I didn't expect. Displaying the same attributes as Lane (minus the swoon-inducing make-up), the non-pudgy actor channels his inner Johnny Rotten, giving a full-bodied performance. Hell, he even manages to get intimate with E.G. Daily (Valley Girl).

The wonderful Christine Lahti plays Aunt Linda and has a great scene where she talks to a news reporter (Cynthia Sikes) about her daughter and nieces. This scene also happens to be Laura Dern's finest moment as well. And the catchy nature of "Professionals" by The Looters and The Fabulous Stains is driving me crazy. Oh, and call me crazy, but I thought Combat Rock-era Paul Simonon was kinda cute in this flick.

video uploaded by priorityovernight

An historical commentary track by Marc Edward Heuck can be found here.

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