Thunder Alley (J. S. Cardone, 1985)

Even though there are subtle hints that punk and new wave exist in the world depicted in Thunder Alley. It's safe to say that bland, middle of the road rock music is the dominating force. Call it the macho version of Ladies and Gentlemen, The Fabulous Stains, call it the eyeliner-free version Breaking Glass, I'd even go as far as to call it the winklepicker-less Scenes From the Goldmine. Anyway, call it what you will, this movie, directed J.S. Cardone, might lack the visual flair of the flicks I just mentioned. But it's still a pretty good rise, fall, and then rise again redemption-heavy '80s rock movie. Sure, the movie's band, Magic, doesn't have a synth player, but... Wait a minute, they do have a synth player. In fact, he's using a Yamaha DX7. I think the reason I thought Magic didn't have anyone on keyboards was because the first few songs I heard of theirs seemed to be devoid of synths (which annoyed me like you wouldn't believe). Or maybe the synths were just drowned out by the bands obnoxiously straight-forward guitar rock sound. Either way, their soon-to-be drug addicted synth player can definitely be heard during the songs they play while touring the dive bar circuit. Only problem being, the quality of his keyboard playing begins to suffer as the band starts to gain traction. Why, you ask? Um, it's simple, really, he's addicted to drugs. I know, you're thinking to yourself, his substance abuse problem shouldn't effect his playing. Granted, it might ruin his life in other ways. But I think most people agree, drugs make you a better musician.

While that might seem like a controversial statement. Think about all the great albums in your record collection. Do you think they were made by people who weren't high on cocaine? I don't think so.

I think the reason the drugs had a negative effect on Magic's keyboard player was because he was, well, a keyboard player. Falling over guitar amps in a foggy haze or pounding maniacally on a drum-kit are synonymous with drug-fueled rock stardom. On other hand, keyboard players need to remain focused. Seriously, has a rock keyboard player ever died of a drug overdose? (I recall the touring keyboardist for the Smashing Pumpkins dying of a heroin overdose back in the 1990s.) Okay, that's one. That being said, it's still not that common.

Another factor, of course, was the anti-drug hysteria that was sweeping America at the time. And this hysteria was reflected on the big screen in the form of plot lines that featured illegal drugs as the primary antagonist.

A holdover from the hedonistic 1970s, drugs, like, heroin and cocaine, were viewed as the worst, most evil things in the universe.

As per usual, women and the morbidly obese are to blame for the drug addiction that threatens to cut Magic's meteoric rise off at the knees. You see, the woman typically gets the drug from the morbidly obese individual, who, in turn, passes the drugs onto unsuspecting rock stars in training. It should be noted that the woman uses the confines of her silky vagina as a lure as well. And who among us can resist the confines of a silky vagina?

Uh, I'll tell you who can. Richie (Roger Wilson), that's who. The guitarist and occasional frontman for Magic is offered a tasty slice of chlorine-soaked pussy at a pool party (hence, it being chlorine-soaked), but turns it down. Partly because he's currently "seeing" the Phoebe Cates-esque Beth (Jill Schoelen), the counter-woman at the local sundae stand. But mainly because she looks like trouble.

In case you're wondering, the reason I called Richie the ""occasional" frontman of Magic is because Skip (played by the always awesome Leif Garrett) is supposed to be the bands frontman. Their rivalry, intensified by the fact that Skip didn't want Richie to join the band, is what drives the plot in the early going. However, once Skip realizes that Richie is a major talent, he puts his jealous feelings aside and begrudgingly accepts Richie into the fold. I mean, if Benjamin Orr and Ric Ocasek of The Cars could share singing duties back in the '70s and '80s, why can't Magic?

At first, Donnie (Scott McGinnis), the band's keyboard player/chief songwriter, and the reason Richie became a member in the first place, reaps much pleasure from the fact Skip is constantly irritated by Richie's presence. This backfires big time when Donnie starts to resent Richie. And, you guessed it, Donnie resorts to drugs and guilt-free groupie poontang (ignoring his soda jerk/new wave girlfriend in the process) to dull the pain.

While a lot of the bands success can be attributed to Richie's guitar playing and songwriting prowess, you shouldn't discount the advantages that come with having Clancy Brown as your road manager. Don't believe me, just ask the club owner who tries to pay the band with a cheque. Not only did Clancy cause  him to piss his pants, they got paid in cash, yo.

What I think I'm trying to say is, Clancy Brown is a bad-ass. (Duh, squared!) Yeah, I know. It should go without saying. But I don't think I've ever reviewed a Clancy Brown film on here.

At any rate, you're probably wondering about the fashion in Thunder Alley. Well, I can tell you this, it's not all blue denim and white t-shirts paired with sneakers. In fact, if you look closely, you can spot the odd punk here and there.

Watch when Richie and Donnie are walking through an alleyway ("Thunder Alley," perhaps?) on their way to The Palace (the exalted concert venue that looms large throughout the movie), you can see a couple of punk chicks leaning against a wall.

As for new wave duds, both Carol Kottenbrook (who works at The Palace) and Cynthia Eilbacher (Donnie's girlfriend) wear short skirts with studded belts and funky sleeveless tops.

While not as flashy as the movies I mentioned earlier (Breaking Glass, for example), Thunder Alley is still a solid '80s rock movie. If you liked Eddie and the Cruisers, you should definitely check it out.

In case you're wondering, "Can't You Feel My Heartbeat" is my favourite Magic song. Oh, and special thanks to chyneaze for recommending this movie.

Party Line (William Webb, 1988)

Am I seeing things or did Shawn Weatherly's impeccable nylons just go from being jet black to tan in the middle of her confrontation with a demented, eye-liner-sporting Leif Garrett? I know for a fact that her stockings and/or pantyhose were black when the scene starts. So, how does one explain the fact that they seem to turn tan on a dime? Oh, hey, don't mind me. I just watched Party Line for the very first time and this nylon-based continuity error is occupying the bulk of my thought process at the moment. I wish it wasn't, as I had this hilarious diatribe about Leif Garrett (The Spirit of '76) in a wedding dress all ready to go. But Shawn Weatherly had to go and undercut it with one well-placed knee to the groin. Nonetheless, in the wide shots, it's obvious that Shawn Weatherly is wearing black nylons as she struggles with Leif Garrett on the balcony of his large Bel Air estate. However, when the director, William Webb (California Girls), goes in for a close-up, it would appear that Shawn Weatherly is wearing tan hosiery. At first I thought it was merely the lighting that was making her black nylons appear tan. But then it dawned on me, these are black stockings and/or pantyhose we're taking about. Meaning, there's no way their inherent blackness could be diminished by wonky lighting.

What I think happened was, the director decided that the balcony brawl between Shawn Weatherly and Leif Garrett needed more physicality. In order to achieve this, they brought in Shawn Weatherly, or maybe even a stunt performer, and shot the knee to groin sequence at a later date. And it looks like no one bothered to point out that Shawn Weatherly's gams are literally a different colour.

Now, did this nylon-based continuity error hamper my ability to enjoy this late 1980s masterpiece? Of course not. No, the fact that the movie is kind of crappy did the lion's share of the joy-related hampering. If anything, the nylon-based continuity error was a refreshing anomaly in an otherwise lifeless erotic thriller.

Truth be told, there are actually quite a few anomalies of a refreshing nature peppered throughout this motion picture. And, yes, one of them involves Leif Garrett being slapped around by his sister while wearing his dead mother's wedding dress.

While I could watch Leif Garrett get slapped in the face while wearing a wedding dress for hours, my favourite refreshing anomaly is when Karen Mayo-Chandler (Stripped to Kill II: Live Girls) clam-jams the living hell out of Patricia Patts' teenage pussy. Seriously, it's one of the most forceful clam-jams I've seen in a motion picture. Oh, and in case you don't know, "clam-jam" is when a woman prevents another woman from getting laid.

Well, Karen Mayo-Chandler's character in Party Line takes it one step further. In that, she doesn't just stop another woman from getting a guaranteed helping of cock, she steals the cock all for herself ("it's a competitive world"). Little does she know, there's no cock to steal, as the man attached to this cock has no intention of using it to penetrate either of them.

You see, the man and, I suppose, his cock, has an Oedipus complex. In other words, his cock is his mother's property. Unfortunately, Seth, played by the always excellent Leif Garrett, can't insert his cock into one of his mother's many orifices since she's dead. Not to fear, though, Seth's sister, Angelina (Greta Blackburn, Chained Heat), has stepped in to fill the void left by his deceased mother. And let's just say, it's a kinky scene, man.

Obeying her every whim, Angelina has Seth slit the throats of the married men she lures into her bed by using "Party Line," a phone sex service that acts as a sort of public dating forum for the city's perverts, freaks and bored babysitters. I told you it was a kinky scene... man.

When the bodies of married men of a certain age start piling up at the morgue, Richard Roundtree's Captain Barnes decides to pair a rule-breaking vice cop named Lt. Dan (Richard Hatch) with Stacy Sloan (Shawn Weatherly), a buttoned-up district attorney special investigator; or as Lt. Dan calls her, "some yuppie cop."

Since Lt. Dan can't go five seconds without breaking the rules, he's thrown off the case almost immediately. As for Stacy Sloan, she's suspended after refusing to have sex with her boss. Despite these roadblocks, Lt. Dan and Stacy Sloan manage to put aside their differences and work as a team.

At first I was annoyed by the sight of Shawn Weatherly in her conservative lawyer clothes. But then my stance softened somewhat when Miss Weatherly dons a tight red dress with jet black hose during the film's third act. Worn for the sole purpose of luring a shadowy killer out into the open, Lt. Dan thinks her equally killer curves will be no match for the mullet-sporting mama's boy.

Really, Dan? I think the chloroform-soaked rag currently pressing against Shawn Weatherly's mouth might beg to differ.

Upon further [unnecessary] inspection, it looks like they used a stunt performer for the close-up shot of Shawn Weatherly kneeing Leif Garrett in the nuts. How did I come to this conclusion? Well, for starters, you can clearly see that they're wearing a blonde wig. On top of that, the stunt performer's legs are, let's just say, not as shapely as Shawn's legs. What the hell, I'm just going to come out and say it, I think the legs belonged to a man.

Anyway, fans of Leif Garrett, nylon-based continuity error occurs, red Ferrari's, clam-jamming, workplace sexual misconduct, scrunchies, nightclub scenes and the late '80s in general will definitely want to watch this flick in the not-so distant future.

The Spirit of '76 (Lucas Reiner, 1990)

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.