Real Genius (Martha Coolidge, 1985)

In Real Genius, a ragtag group of university students at a Caltech-style California technical institute unwittingly help the U.S. military develop a powerful laser that will enable them to kill anyone they want with the simple push of a button. When said ragtag group of university students eventually learn what their laser is going to be used for, they try to stop them. Wow, talk about science fiction. The reason they try stop them, by the way, is because to them the idea of being able to vanquish your foes from the comfort of your living room is immoral and unethical. Of course, nowadays, killing people with the flick of a switch is commonplace. But back in the mid-1980s, not being in at least the same zip code of the person you wanted to kill was seen as cowardly. Oh, how times have changed. Don't worry, I'll get to the scene with the sexy beautician students from The Wanda Trussler School of Beauty frolicking [makeshift] pool-side and I'll be sure to talk about Michelle Meyrink's delectable Meyrinkian thighs, and, not to mention, her Colleen Moore-inspired haircut in a second. It's just that I wanted to prove that I could make a profound point if I wanted to. Now, you wouldn't think that Real Genius would be the type of film that could elicit such a point. However, as most people know, Real Genius isn't as dumb as it looks. Sure, the look plastered on Val Kilmer's face throughout this movie practically screams cluelessness, but underneath that doltish grin lies a sly form of intelligence.

In the past decade or so, the pop culture landscape has been littered with smirking eggheads like Val Kilmer's Chris Knight. Whether they be on TV shows like, Silicon Valley or The Big Bang Theory, or in movies, like, oh, let's say, The Martian or Interstellar, knowing stuff about science has somehow become cool.

Oh, and in case you're wondering, watching two derelicts fight over a half-smoked cigarette while waiting in line to see Laibach was what was considered cool back in my day. And just for the record, I've never seen an episode of The Big Bang Theory from start to finish.

Call it the anti-Revenge of the Nerds, Real Genius is the thinking man's college set comedy. While not as raunchy or crude... or lewd... or even lascivious as Revenge of the Nerds, this Martha Coolidge-directed film has two of the best montages I've seen in a long time. Placed near the beginning and the end of the movie, these montages help move the plot forward by showing the rapid passage of time. Featuring a series of events that go out of their way to show the evolution of the principal characters, these montages are the reason the film is ninety minutes and not three hours. Allowing directors to cram more movie into their movies, the montage is a vital component of cinema.

You're probably thinking to yourself: Um, every movie from the 1980s has a montage. While, yes, that is true. The montages that appear in Real Genius are different. In that, they actually serve a purpose. And it shouldn't come as a surprise, as Martha Coolidge's Valley Girl has some totally awesome montages as well. Get it, "totally awesome." I'm using Valleyspeak in conjunction with Valley Girl, which, most of you will probably agree, is not even close to being grody to the max.

While there's no Valleyspeak spoken in Real Genius, Valley Girl's Michelle Meyrink is basically the female lead and Deborah Foreman has a small part as the daughter of Ed Lauter, who, of course, plays a hard-ass military man.

Don't let the I ♥ Toxic Waste t-shirt fool you, Val's Chris Knight is no Spicoli. He's neither a manipulative sociopath like that Ferris Bueller creep. No, Chris Knight is one of the better cinematic role models to be hatched during the 1980s. Quick-witted, smart as a whip, sexually active and sporting a social conscience, Chris Knight represents all that is good and pure. Seriously, he's one of the few slovenly rebellious types I've seen that I didn't want to slap silly by the time the Tears For Fears song started to inevitably play over the closing credits.

Sure, it helped that Chris Knight's antagonists, the aptly named Kent and Prof. Jerry Hathaway, are played by William Atherton and Robert Prescott (actors renowned for their ability to be first-rate assholes), but you can't help but like Chris Knight. And a lot of it has to do with Val Kilmer, whose never been more charming than he is here.

After an opening credits sequence that shows us the evolution of weaponry (from the bow and arrow to the atomic bomb), we get a military demo of some kind of space laser and a scene featuring a 15 year-old science whiz-kid named Mitch (Gabe Jarret), who specializes in lasers. Call me perceptive, but I think this film is an artful satire about how the military exploits scientific innovation in order to make killing easier. I mean, how long did it take for some military commander to suggest that they put machine guns on airplanes after they were invented? Five... maybe ten minutes?

Invited to study at Pacific Tech (the Caltech-style school I alluded to earlier) by William Atherton's Prof. Jerry Hathaway, Mitch finds himself rooming with an eccentric student named–you guessed it–Chris Knight. Invited because of his knowledge when it comes to lasers, Prof. Jerry Hathaway hopes Mitch can breathe new life into his laser project, which he is actually doing for the military. Of course, Mitch and Chris have no idea what Prof. Jerry Hathaway is up to. Though, they should, Prof. Jerry Hathaway is a major slimeball.

Since Mitch is only 15, he finds college life a little overwhelming at first. You would be to if some guy, Lazlo Hollyfeld (Jon Gries), would disappear in your closet every now and then, and a student named Ick (Mark "They're Beauticians?" Kamiyama) had this weird habit of turning the dorm hallway into a skating rink.

As habits go, it might be weird, but Ick's indoor skating rink is where Mitch meets Jordan (Michelle Meyrink) for the very first time. And trust me, meeting Michelle Meyrink is hella positive. So, thanks, Ick. Thanks for being the catalyst that introduced the one-woman adorable symposium that Michelle Meyrink in Real Genius.

After another awkward scene between Mitch and Jordan in the bathroom (Jordan attempts to give Mitch a sweater she knitted for him while he's trying to take a piss), we get our first montage. While editing is a key ingredient when it comes to making a good montage (the sight of Mitch gradually surrounded by tape recorders and less actual students in class is a terrific sight gag), the song choice is probably the most important element. And this particular montage is blessed with a gem called "I'm Falling" by The Comsat Angels.

Under pressure from the military to speed things up, Prof. Jerry Hathaway threatens to flunk Chris if doesn't produce "five megawatts by mid-May." I'm no scientist, but that sounds like a lot. Not wanting to see his classmates burn out, Chris decides to help them unwind by throwing them a pool party in the school's auditorium. Even though there are countless lines in this film worth quoting, I can't help but make a chuckling sound every time I think about Mark Kamiyama's Yuji Okumoto's "They're beauticians?" line. He, of course, is referring to the babes currently dancing pool-side.

No thanks to that Kent cun... Um, I mean, no thanks to that Kent jerk, Prof. Jerry Hathaway busts up the pool party, and becomes even more dickish.

Speaking of dicks, did Deborah Foreman just ask Val Kilmer if he could hammer a six-inch spike through a board with his penis? He did? Well, that was unexpected.

Determined not to flunk out, Chris and the boys turn up the heat, and focus the bulk of their energy on that damned laser. Which brings us to the film's second montage. This one features a catchy song by Chaz Jankel called "Number One."

Anybody else find it odd that in a film that boasts songs by Bryan Adams and Don Henley, that the most memorable songs are by The Comsat Angels and Chaz Jankel? What am I saying? Of course those songs are more memorable. Bryan Adams and Don Henley are lame. It's true, the use of "Everybody Wants to Rule the World" by Tears for Fears is technically cliched, and on the cusp of being lame. But since this film was actually made in 1985, I'll give 'em a pass (using overplayed 80s songs in the 80s is acceptable).

Anyway, when Chris and the boys (and Michelle Meyrink) learn that they're actually working for the military industrial complex, more scientific hi-jinks transpire and more hilarity ensues. I can't believe they made three Revenge of the Nerds, yet there's only one Real Genius. Come to the think of it, maybe that's a good thing. Though, I have read that there's a Real Genius TV series in the works.

Joysticks (Greydon Clark, 1983)

Staring at the flickering shapes darting and exploding across the screen, the patrons at your local video arcade–your local what? Ask your Uncle Steve–may look like they're engaging in an activity that is social in nature (they're out of the house, they're amongst friends, they're consuming junk food). However, what they're actually doing is the epitome of anti-social. With their attention completely focused on the army of colourful ghosts chasing their "Pac-Man" or "Ms. Pac-Man" through a pellet-filled maze, the well-being of those around them is the last thing on their minds. And I don't mean to imply that the people hovering about as they played are in danger or not feeling well. On the contrary, most of them seem to be in perfect health. But if, say, the blonde woman with the large breasts were to...Wait a minute. "Blonde woman with large breasts"? Um, hello? That pretty much describes about eighty percent of the gamers who appear Joysticks, the video game movie starring the gorgeous Corinne Bohrer (The Beach Girls) and the always delightful Jon Gries (TerrorVision). Okay, what if, oh, I got it, those two black guys in the matching red shirts were to start choking on, oh, let's say, a hot dog? Yeah, that's right. Simultaneous hot dog choking. Would any of the people playing stop to help them? I don't think so. In fact, they probably wouldn't even notice as the coroner takes their lifeless bodies to the morgue. How do I know this? Well, let's just say, I used to be one of those people. Sure, I don't ever recall being so into a game that I completely ignored the sound of two black guys simultaneously choking to death. But then again, how can I be sure that I didn't? I mean, have you ever played Defender? If you have, you know what I'm talking about. It's like being addicted to crack. Actually, crack addiction sounds like a walk through a field of daisies when compared to playing Tempest for eight hours straight, as the combination of secondhand smoke, irreparable ear damage, carpal tunnel syndrome, and, not to mention, being exposed a wide array of airbourne microbes, allergens, and toxic chemicals will severely test the limits of your fragile immune system.     
 

 

The worst aspect about playing video games, whether they're played in an arcade, at home, or on the go, is that you're not accomplishing anything. It's true, some games have recently introduced a more physical component to the gaming experience, so technically you're getting a workout. But for the most part, it's still a passive activity. While watching the similarly themed Pinball Summer, I couldn't help but notice that the players seemed to be practicing to copulate as the hurled their tightly garbed crotches toward the pinball machines they were attempting to play. Holding it firmly by its haunches with both hands, you lunge at the game with everything you've got. Responding to your heaving flesh, the game makes a series of sounds that are designed to inform that you've heaved well. Much in the same the way a baby cries when its born, as the shrill noise it's making is not meant to annoy, but to indicate to you that your sperm and/or ovum is in working order. A crying baby is a well-produced baby. A non-crying baby is a dead baby.   
 

 

You'll find no stories of reproductive mirth within Joysticks; if anything, you'll probably want to destroy your genitals with a set of fiery hedge clippers when all is said and all is done ("my hands work with fire and steel"). Pressing your hand against the long, slender shaft of the joystick, you place your quarter, or in this film's case, your token, in the slot, and you are now ready to commence masturbating. Whoa, how come the people in Pinball Summer are laying the groundwork for the reproducing the probably racist spawn of tomorrow, while the folks in Joysticks are merely making stains on the carpet? I don't know, my dear Agnieszka, but the floors of the establishment at the centre of this deeply troubling mishegas have become soiled beyond recognition, and there's nothing anyone can do about it; at least not until the internet is invented. 
 

 

One man tries to do something about it, but he's fighting, to use one of them lame war metaphors, an uphill battle. Nevertheless, his name is Joseph Rutter (Joe Don Baker) and he hates video games. Shocked by what the video arcade in located in River City has done to his daughter Patsy Rutter (Corinne Bohrer), Mr. Rutter, utilizing his henchmen/nephews, Max (John Voldstad) and Arnie (John Diehl), tries everything in his power to close what he sees as a blight on, not only the community, but on society as a whole.
 

 

It's hard to imagine him succeeding when you take in account what we're shown during the film's opening sequence. A blonde woman with large breasts named Candy (Lynda Wiesmeier from Malibu Express) is jumping up and down while playing an arcade game. Set to a song that featured lyrics such as "totally awesome video games" and "video to the max," the sequence mixes shots of Candy bouncing in super-tight short-shorts with clips of classic video games. While I don't remember the names of all the games, I do recall playing more than half of them at one point or another. In other words, good luck trying to keep people away a place that features hot chicks in skimpy shorts playing video games in an overly enthusiastic manner.
 

 

Employing the classic early '80s movie trio of the nerd, the fat slob, and the preppy asshole, the building blocks of any poorly conceived sex comedy based on a cultural phenomenon, we're introduced to the "nerd" character first. Driving to his new job at the local video arcade, Eugene Groebe (Leif Green) is propositioned by two women while stopped at a red light. Showing him their tan line adorned breasts, the women, a brunette with short hair and a long-haired blonde invite Eugene into the backseat of their convertible to fuck. If this all sounds a little far-fetched, that's because it is. They don't want to have sex with him, they just want to get a picture of him with his pants down in order to complete a pledge prank for a sorority they want to join.
 

 

Judging by the way the ladies giggled as they drove off with his pants, it's obvious that they enjoyed their encounter with the bespectacled young man in the sweater vest. On the other hand, Eugene will probably be scared for life, and, from this day forward, only be able to become sexually aroused by women who remind him of his mother.
 

 

The so-called "preppy asshole" of the film is introduced when we meet the video arcade's manager Jeff Baily (Scott McGinnis), a smirking cocksucker if I ever saw one. When he notices Eugene's name written in the waist of a pair of pants he finds on the floor, he remarks, "His pants are here, he can't be that far behind." And while I'll admit, McGinnis does execute that line with a flair that can best be described as "jaunty," that doesn't mean I'll forgive him for what he does to two of the film's most compelling characters. Oh, and it's after Jeff Baily utters the pants line that we're treated to the first of the film's many Pac-Man themed transition wipes (complete with the wocka wocka sound). 
 

 

When Eugene, who's since been reunited with his pants, tells this slovenly fellow playing Pac-Man to stop being so physically objectionable, we're unwittingly introduced to the film's ubiquitous "fat slob" character. A video game expert who helps maintain the upkeep of the arcade's many games, Jonathan Andrew McDorfus (Jim Greenleaf), or, as those close to him like to call him, "Dorfus," is, to put it mildly, a disgusting human being.  
 

 

It's true, the nerd character does flirt with being likable every so often (the fact that he calls his penis "Simba" was an agreeable attribute), but the threesome are pretty loathsome overall, especially the preppy asshole, who I wanted to straight-up murder on several occasions. Filled to the brim with so much unpleasantness, it's a miracle that Joysticks was able to exude any charm whatsoever.    
 

 

This should come as no surprise, but the reason the film doesn't completely suck has a lot to be with the presence of personal favourite Corinne Bohrer as Patsy Rutter, the daughter of, you guessed it, Joseph Rutter, and Jon Gries as King Vidiot, the leather clad leader of an all-girl gang of new wave punks (think: The Misfits from Jem meets Wendy O. Williams), as they both bring a certain level of class and dignity to the proceedings. Blowing their respective co-stars of the off the screen with an alarming ease, the insanely adorable Corinne uses a thick Valley Girl accent to great effect, while Jon destroys all comers with his spastic mannerisms.
 

 

While they share very little when it comes to fashion and music, Patsy Rutter and King Vidiot have one thing in common: they both love hanging out at the arcade. Only problem being that there are forces in the universe who would like nothing better than to see them banished from the River City gaming mecca. As far as Patsy goes, it's rather obvious who wants to her keep away from the arcade. You see, her father views the arcade as a corrupting influence on his daughter, and will do everything in his power to make sure his sand pail of girlish sunshine stays as far away from its alluring glow as humanly possible. And if that means forcing it to close its doors for good through untoward shenanigans, than so be it.
 

 

When it comes to why King Vidiot and his gang of gorgeous punk pretties are being denied access to the arcade, things get a little more complicated. After thwarting a late night attempt by Mr. Rutter's henchmen/nephews, Arnie and Max, to steal all the arcade's games, Jeff decides to celebrate their victory by throwing a private party for a bunch of his regular customers; the only stipulation being that all the women must wear their nightclothes to the arcade (that's the reason Patsy is wearing a white negligee). Anyway, when King Vidiot and his girl power entourage show up to enjoy some after hours gaming, Jeff tells them to leave. If I needed anymore evidence proving that this Jeff guy is a jerk, this shameful display solidified my point with crystal clear precision.
 

 

Even though a deal is struck, if King Vidiot beats Dorfus at Satan's Hollow he can stay, if he loses, than he and his "subjects" (he is royalty, after all) must leave immediately, I still thought Jeff was being a major dick. The way he looked at King Vidiot with that pompous grin was obscene. I mean, that's no way to treat a regular customer. What I think was at play here was a definite anti-punk agenda on the part of the filmmakers, because I can't think of any other good reasons to have Jeff be so hostile towards King Vidiot. Of course, you need to have the two of them at each other's throats in order to make King Vidiot's alliance with Joseph Rutter seem more plausible. But still, the manner in which the crowd cheered when King Vidiot lost to Dorfus made my skin crawl.  
 

 

To the surprise of no-one, Joseph Rutter attempts to exploit the rift that forms between Jeff and King Vidiot by making the latter an offer he couldn't possibly refuse (his very own video arcade game). If only Jeff would have let King Vidiot stay, things would have been so much. Oh well. Don't feel too sorry for Vidiot. On top of having killer cheekbones, a soft spot for chicks with dicks (he tells Max masquerading as "Maxine" that she has "great legs"), and access to mini-bikes (one of the perks to selling out to Rutter), King Vidiot is the leader of a gang of new wave girls who all wear sleeveless tops.   
 

 

Will Jeff be able to overcome his fear of video games in time to save his arcade? And why was John Diehl always wearing that red Angels cap? To be honest, I don't really give a shit; about Jeff overcoming his fear, not the thing about the Angels cap. He's [Jeff] a fucking fascist. Plus, he made Corinne Bohrer sad. You heard right, he cruelly shuns Patsy in the end. Personally, I'm still trying to get over the fact that he rejected Patsy–a new wave flapper goddess–for some chick who was the epitome of bland and boring. But I guess shouldn't expect much from a guy who makes Heinrich Himmler seem personable.
 

 

Changing gears for a second: His balls might smell like corn nuts, but I was deeply impressed with the Dorfmeister's milf-bagging skills. The sexy Mrs. Rutter (Morgan Lofting, best known to kids of the '80s as the voice of The Baroness from the G.I. Joe animated series) can't get enough of the Dorfster's cock. (I'm surprised she was able to find it underneath all that excess flab.) The film, stupid as it might seem, had me longing for the days when Yonge Street (a long stretch of concrete in the middle of Toronto) was awash with record stores, porn theatres, t-shirt shops, and, of course, video arcades.

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Special shout out to "Cotter." (See the comments section for entry on the film Valet Girls to find out why.)

TerrorVision (Ted Nicolaou, 1986)

The fact that this super-terrific attempt at icky-based tomfoolery takes place in only four rooms of a kooky suburban home (five rooms, if you include the "pleasure dome," and why wouldn't you include it?), didn't seem to minimize its galactic impact. A mucilaginous remedy for everything sapless and uninteresting in this drab world, TerrorVision hit my face like a rainbow-coloured laser blast. A featherbrained enterprise that knows exactly what decade it's being made in and isn't ashamed to demonstrate that knowledge over and over again. All you need to do is take one look at the breadth of funky fashions and down-to-earth prosthetic techniques that populate this flick, and you'll quickly realize that it means business. The beautifully poetic film, written and directed by Ted Nicolaou, like the similar Remote Control, plays with the connection that exists between 1980s new wave culture and 1950s science fiction. However, instead of an alien videotape taking over the world, the aliens here use cable television as their means of planetary self-assertion. Sending up the '80s zeitgeist, the film also mocks the male psyche when it comes to the acquisition of newfangled gadgets. You see, without a major hot war to fight, thousands of men who would normally be killed in armed combat have been relegated to the arena of the mindless consumer. These docile individuals purchase inessential goods and services, while their warlike parents and increasingly violent offspring ridicule their pacifistic lifestyle at every turn.

Which, in this film's case, is a lifestyle that includes wallowing in the bourgeoning five hundred channel universe. One of the earliest signs of the disintegration of the family unit, this abundance of TV choice erodes at their collectiveness. Mommy wants to watch aerobics, teenage Suzy digs MTV, and Grampa (Bert Remsen) and little Sherman want war and monsters. And Dad, well, he's too captivated by the gizmo itself to have any taste to call his own. Made-up and overly reaching theories aside, TerrorVision is ultimately about a disgusting creature from outer space who escapes from a sanitation dump on the planet of Pluton and ends up being zapped into the satellite dish of the Putterman family.

The film pretty much stays inside Putterman residence, brief visits to the set of Medusa's Midnight Horrorthon, an Elvira-esque movie program, allow the audience to stretch our cinematic legs. But the Putterman home is adorned with such a strange assortment of erotic art, that you almost forget the film takes place in one location. Revolting, yet inventive monster effects are also employed to create to the slimy thing at the centre of this silly stew. And I must say, I liked the way the otherworldly creature oozed, and their green iridescent sludge really tickled my fancy.

Now, any movie that features a leggier than usual Mary Woronov (Eating Raoul) exercising in a skintight leotard, the always hilarious Gerrit Graham (Phantom of the Paradise) using the word "tomato" as a supplemental expletive, and moron extraordinaire Jon Gries wearing a W.A.S.P. t-shirt all within the first five minutes is bound to be topnotch. Add a Valley Girl-accented, pink, green, orange, blonde, and blue-haired Diane Franklin (The Last American Virgin) to the zany mix, and were talking about a freaking masterpiece up in here.

Sporting a new wave look so extreme, that the cast of Liquid Sky would no doubt feel drab in her presence, Diane plays the culturally relevant Suzy Putterman, music video junkie and junior-grade fashion icon. And while she is off screen during the film's perilous middle section, Miss Franklin explodes so righteously when she is onscreen, that her absence barely registers. I mean, even though Suzy's younger brother (Chad Allen) is the first to come face-to-face with the space monster, it's Diane's playful spirit that makes their brief friendship with the space monster such an unexpected joy to watch.

Teaching the space monster about the wonders of food and music, Diane, and to lesser extent, Jon Gries (who plays her her boyfriend, O.D.) shine comedically as they instruct the beast on how to eat snacks. Diane even says "yum" twice in quick succession to signify something that is tasty.

Speaking of phraseology, I love how she would liberally pepper her sentences with words like, "barf," "dork," and "awesome." Sure, the third is rarely used to denote anything that is actually awesome anymore. But back in 1986, if you called something "awesome," or in extreme cases, "totally awesome," it usually meant something was genuinely awesome. For example, The Fibonaccis' song, "TerrorVision," which opens and closes the film, is not only awesome, it's (you guessed it) totally awesome.

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