Pretty in Pink (Howard Deutch, 1986)

As they're leaving Trax to go on their first date, Blane asks Andie, "So, do you wanna go home and change"? Obviously implying that what she is currently wearing is not appropriate first date attire. Can you believe this guy? There's a lot to like about John Hughes' Pretty in Pink, but there's a lot that will make your spiro-saturated blood boil. And the scenario I just mentioned is one of the most infuriating. If I was Andie, the date would have ended the second that glob of verbal repulsiveness passed through the mouth-hole attached to Blane's smug face. Now, you could say: Hey, give the guy a break. I mean, he's not used to dating girls who shop at thrift stores. But I'm not going to be doing that today. No fucking way. Besides, his decision to then take Andie to a party being thrown at James Spader's house was just as misguided. And, no, this isn't the kooky, lovable version of James Spader from 2002 we're talking about. This James Spader circa 1986. In other words, we're talking about someone who is a major douchebag. I don't know 'bout you, but "major douchebag" actually undersells the level of douchiness James Spader is putting out there in this movie. At any rate, what was Blane thinking? I realize that the whole dating sequence is set up to highlight the colossal divide that exists between Blane and Andie's different social structures. But never have seen someone act so clueless before. Seriously, you would think, judging by his actions, that he was trying to sabotage his relationship with the redheaded enchantress right from the get-go.

Mind you, I'm not one of those Pretty in Pink fans who, after they're done trashing Blane, goes ahead and starts listing the reasons why Andie should be dating her best bud Duckie instead. I don't think so. Despite possessing "strong lips" and a unique sense of style, Duckie is a clingy crybaby and a bit of a stalker. Actually, all the men in this film have a stalker-ish vibe about them.

Watching Blane stalk Andie in the halls and then show up at Trax, the record store where Andie works after school, like that was kind of unnerving. Think about it. Who wants some guy with no personality or fashion sense following you around for most of the day? I know I sure don't.

Wait, did I just say that Duckie, played by Jon Cryer (Dudes), had a "unique sense of style"? While it's true, Duckie is a style icon. You'll notice that when Blane (Andrew McCarthy) goes to talk Andie (Molly Ringwald) in the place where all the cool/misunderstood students hangout, the joint is crawling with Duckie clones.

We're talking garish blazers, brightly-coloured blazers, tweed blazers, check blazers, blazers covered with anachronistic military insignia. It's like an irregular blazer free-for-all back there. Not to mention, vests! Bolo ties! Studded bracelets! Jelly bracelets! Pointy monk strap shoes!

And my God. The fedoras! Never have I seen so many young people in fedoras. Of course, that statement makes sense when said between 1986 and, oh, let's say, the year 2000. But have you walked down the street of any major North American city over the past fifteen years? There are fedoras everywhere. You could say that everyone has morphed into Duckie. Yeah, yeah, not everyone looks like Duckie. But you can definitely feel his presence. It's kinda eerie when you think about it.

Who would have thought a character from a John Hughes movie would go on to become the template for the hipster movement?

Don't be fooled, though, the toxic brand of masculinity that the likes of Blane and Steff stink of still permeates the atmosphere. Anytime you see a man assume that a woman owes him something, whether it be her attention or even sex, you can thank the likes Blane and Steff... And, in a way, Duckie is no better than them. He has this idea in his head that if he keeps harassing Andie, she'll eventually fall in love with him.

At the end of the day, Andie shouldn't date any of them. Okay, she should definitely fuck James Spader... a bunch of times. But as for long term relationships? Yeah, I don't think so.

   

My advice to Andie is: Listen to music... on vinyl (it's 1985/86!!! Depeche Mode, Skinny Puppy, Cocteau Twins and countless others are putting out albums, like, all the time), continue to play around with fashion, try dating a woman. It's 1986! You're living in one of the most exciting times to be alive. Don't waste it by dating a bunch of needy twerps.

Hell, date a trans person. I'm not sure, but I think I spotted one during the fedora scene. They're wearing a brimmed hat and carrying a camouflage backpack. Trans or not, there's definitely some gender fluidity brewing at this particular high school.

Anyway, yeah. I'd tell Andie to date Iona (Annie Potts), the owner of Trax, but she seems to fall under the soul crushing spell that is mid-1980s heterosexuality. Sure, heterosexuality is fun now (you know, with all those newfangled kinks and fetishes and whatnot), but mid-1980s heterosexuality was a different story all-together. You can watch Iona slowly succumb to it by watching how her wardrobe changes over the course of the film.

In her first scene, she's rocking a bondage-inspired punk look. And to top it off, she uses a stapler against a shoplifter. Bad-ass.

Her second outfit is a new wave look with new romantic flourishes. All that was missing was a Visage song blasting chic-ly on the soundtrack (the film's real soundtrack features three(!) New Order tracks).

The third and I guess fourth outfits combine cultural appropriation and nostalgia, as Iona embraces that brief trend where everyone pretended they were Chinese or Japanese (or, in some cases, both at once) and sports a 1960s-style beehive hairdo/pink prom dress.

Of course, if you were Chinese or Japanese in the 1980s, you pretended you were Madonna. Who, by the way, is mentioned in this film. This might sound odd, but it was kinda freaky hearing people talk about Madonna in the 1980s.

At the end, Iona sells out and becomes a yuppie. Which, in a way, sums up the last ten years (1976-86) pretty accurately.

You start off with punk (safety pin earrings)  and new wave (pink lip gloss on weekdays), dabble with cultural appropriation (remember when you wore a Japanese rising sun bandana to that Kajagoogoo concert?)  and nostalgia (admit it, you used to watch Sha Na Na reruns... unironically). And then you sell out and move to Connecticut. The end.

Random PIP observations:

Duckie, from the looks of it, lives in an abandoned crack house.

Gina Gershon can be spotted twice, once during the gym scene and again at the prom.

Did you know that Trax, the record store where Andie works, is based on Wax Trax! Records, the iconic record store/record label in Chicago? Yeah, I didn't know this. Apparently it's where John Hughes used to shop when he lived in Chicago.

The DJs at the prom are ridiculous. I mean, really? Does it take that much gear to spin OMD records?

A copy of The Residents' Diskomo/Goosebump can be seen for sale at Trax for 7.99.

Hey, Duckie. Yeah, Ed Norton from The Honeymooners called, he wants his entire wardrobe back.

And finally, Andie can't even surf the 1985-86 version of the internet without being harassed. Typical.

Bad Influence (Curtis Hanson, 1990)

Let's say you're a yuppie who has it all. It's 1990, you got a sweet apartment (one that is filled with the kind of stuff yuppies like), you live in a nice neighbourhood, you're engaged to be married to Marcia Cross, your job, while tedious, pays well, and... Wait. Did I mention it's 1990? Or, more importantly, did I mention that you look like James Spader? I know, talk about having it all. Or does he? Have it all, that is. I don't think he does. Let's see. He doesn't really like Marica Cross, he doesn't need half the junk in his apartment, his slacker brother is always asking to borrow money and he hates his job. Sure, he still looks like James Spader, the sexiest man alive as far as I'm concerned. But even that doesn't seem to get him anywhere in Bad Influence, the film that begs the question: If James Spader approached Lisa Zane in a bar, would she really reject him? We'll get to that in a minute. Looking like James Spader can apparently only get you so far in Los Angeles circa 1990. But what if James Spader had a douchebag coach? What I mean is, what if James Spader had a sort of tutor that taught him how to be an asshole. I know, you're thinking to yourself: Isn't being an asshole a bad thing? Not in the world depicted in this film. In fact, the film should really be called "Good Influence." However, since Hollywood doesn't want it to get out that being a total dick/colossal hosebeast is the best thing a person can do for themselves in terms of self-improvement (everyone in Hollywood is either a total dick or a colossal hosebeast), the film turns into a cautionary tale about the dangers of ambition at around the midway point.

Enabling him to ditch his bland blouse-wearing fiancée is just one of the things James Spader's asshole tutor manages to swing for him. He also helps him turn things around at work, and finds a use for some of the stuff in his apartment. For example, the video camera (a purchase his stoner brother dismisses as wasteful) comes in handy in the dumping of his fiancée.

In case you haven't figured it out yet, James Spader's asshole tutor is played by Rob Lowe. Was there any doubt? I don't think so. With the stench of his sex tape scandal still lingering in the air, it made sense to exploit Rob Lowe's newfound bad boy status by casting him as an immoral con man/yuppie whisperer.

While any old con man can fleece a bunch of Hollywood phonies, it takes real skill to rehabilitate an under-performing yuppie. That being said, most of us will continue to ask the question: Does James Spader really need to be rehabilitated? Or, I should say, does Michael Boll (the name of Spader's character) really need rehabilitating? Of course, to most normal people, he's doing just fine. But to those living inside the L.A. douchebag bubble, he's floundering pretty badly. I mean, for one thing, this Paterson guy (Tony Maggio) at work is repeatedly making Michael look like a massive tool.

If Rob Lowe's "Alex," isn't fleecing Michael, why is he helping him? What I mean is, if it's not about the money (which Alex could have stolen from him without much effort), what does he want? Who knows? Seriously, though, I have no idea. Not much about Alex's background is revealed. It's true, the air of mystery that surrounds Rob Lowe's character gave him an almost supernatural quality (his apparent ability to disappear at will also added to this quality), but part of me would have liked to have known what his deal was.

The opening scene, which shows Alex leaving a woman's apartment in the early morning hours under suspicious circumstances, implies that he spends his days drifting from one con to another. But what is it about James Spader that makes him invest so much energy trying to improve his place the L.A. yuppie-verse of 1990?

At the end of the day it doesn't matter why he's helping him, all that matters is that Alex, despite his unorthodox methods, gets results.

And when I say "results," I'm talking about Lisa Zane's dynamic dick-pocket pounding the living fuckitude out of Michael's wayward cock.

As I just said, the film opens with Alex removing himself from the life of some woman in the early morning hours (he painstakingly gets rid of any photo that he's in and trashes all his personal-effects). Meanwhile, Michael is having a bad day at work. Not only does that aforementioned Paterson guy misplace "schedule 47," an important computer file of his, Marcia Cross, his fiancée, has decided to pop-in to tell him that she wants to postpone the wedding to November. You would think things couldn't get worse, but they do. The boyfriend of some chick at a nearby bar picks a fight with him and his brother, Pismo (Christian Clemenson), is asking for money again.

On the positive side, Rob Lowe's Alex steps in to help Michael with the whole bar fight situation. But unfortunately, Alex disappears before Michael can thank him. Oh, wait. There he is. While out jogging in black athletic clothes at night (fuck yeah), Michael spots Alex standing on a pier. After thanking him for saving his ass earlier in the day, Michael begins to wander away... when all of a sudden, Alex takes an interest in Michael's yuppie troubles.

Using the first of many nightclub passwords ("Dominate Athletic Woman"), Alex takes Michael to a club to see The Nymphs (an L.A. rock band fronted by Inger Lorre) and hit on Lisa Zane's Claire, the coolest woman... I want to say "the coolest woman on the planet," but let's not get carried away. Let's just say, she's the coolest woman currently in this club. Which is nothing to sneeze at, as the club scenes in this movie are chock-full of cool ass people.

Initially rebuffed by Claire, Michael... I don't know, man. Even though they have tried to make James Spader seem kind of dorky, he's still James Spader. Meaning, Claire should be wetter than an otter's taint. (An otter's taint?!?) What? They're pretty freaking wet. Anyway, after the Claire debacle, things begin to turn around for Michael when he out maneuvers, using advice he got from Alex, that Paterson guy at work the very next day.

Bumping into Alex later that evening, Michael is taken to an art gallery, where Alex introduces Michael to Claire. But instead of introducing him as Michael, he calls him "Dominique." It would seem that Alex (who now speaks with a French accent) has created a whole new persona for Michael. At first I thought, this seems unnecessarily convoluted. But then again, it gets results. And when I say, "results." I'm talking about Michael taking Claire back to his apartment to fuck her brains out.

Did I mention that Claire never leaves the house without a black backless dress and black stockings attached to her legs? I haven't? Well that's weird. The dress Claire wears during the art gallery/apartment scene is my favourite Claire outfit, as it boasts a healthy slit and had these oddly-shaped patterns around the neckline.

Asking what Michael fears and wants most in the world, Alex decides to speed things up, and takes his mentor-ship of Michael to the next level. Sabotaging his relationship with Marcia Cross and "neutralizing" his rival at work, Alex has done more for Michael in the past few days than anyone has in his entire life. However, and this is where things get complicated. You see, Michael has scruples, while Alex clearly does not. These differences in their characters end up clashing with one another and cause their almost brotherly bond to sour some bit.

While it was sad to see their relationship flounder the way it ultimately does, they at least got to attend what I consider to be one of the most awesome L.A. parties ever. Now, granted, the party isn't the wildest, nor does it feature music that I was particularly found of, but the atmosphere is too die for. A sort of late night goth garden party, the party (password: "Gay White Male") is teeming with black-clad denizens of the night. Call me crazy, but I could have sworn I saw Rozz Williams of Christian Death/Shadow Project fame hanging out on the stairs.

If you thought that party was awesome, wait until you get a load of the one where Pismo spies on Alex. First off, the club (password: "Fun Loving Couple Seeks...") is blasting "Who's Laughing Now?" by Skinny Puppy as lingerie-clad performance artists swing fluorescent lights with a reckless brand of abandon. And secondly... Actually, there is no "secondly." What else could you want? I mean, Skinny Puppy and lingerie. As far as I'm concerned, nothing else matters in this world.

It's too bad Michael and Alex couldn't have worked out their myriad issues in a less over the top (i.e. less violent) fashion, as I would have loved to have seen them (with Claire, of course) at this club together. Oh, well.

As with most thrillers of this type, the film gets super-ridiculous during its final third. That being said, the film is aesthetically superior to most of the junk I see on a regular basis. Let me break it down for you: James Spader, Rob Lowe, Skinny Puppy, black clothing, lingerie, slits, club scenes, Rozz Williams(?), and yeah. Wait, I almost forgot, Lisa Zane! I love her look. And, actually, you can thank her for making me aware of this movie. Oh, sure, I had heard of it. But after seeing her in the atrocious Freddy's Dead: The Final Nightmare, I thought to myself: I need more Lisa Zane in my life. So, I looked at her filmography, and the title "Bad Influence" jumped out at me. Thanks, Lisa and Freddy.