Freejack (Geoff Murphy, 1992)

We've all been there. You're staring at your twenty year-old girlfriend, when all of a sudden, this kooky thought trickles through your mind: Why can't my twenty year-old girlfriend be a sexy woman pushing forty? I'm no math whiz, but you're going to have wait fifteen maybe twenty years for that to happen. But what if I told you there was a way speed up the milfication of your twenty year-old girlfriend? All you have to do is become a race car driver in, let's say, 1991, and hope Mick Jagger and Esai Morales decide to zap your body to 2009 just before the car you're driving explodes into a million pieces during a big race. Sure, your twenty year-old girlfriend in 1991 is going to be upset that you died and junk. But your thirty-nine year-old girlfriend in 2009 is going to be... freaked out when she learns that her dead boyfriend from 1991 is still alive. Okay, the plan isn't perfect, but that's the beauty of Freejack. It wants to be the Blade Runner of the '90s, but it unwittingly becomes the ultimate ode to insta-milfing. You see, while your girlfriend has slowly been aging for the past eighteen years, you haven't aged one bit. Meaning, you can rub your taut twenty year-old cock all over her fine thirty-nine year-old vagina. Well, in theory you can. Convincing a twenty year-old Rene Russo, who seems to channeling Drew Barrymore, to rub the shaft containing your organic tautness all over the bean-sized squishy lumps that pepper her not even close to being weather-beaten vulva is pretty much the epitome of easy-peasy-lemon-squeezy. However, managing to persuade a thirty-nine year-old Rene Russo, one who is now a sophisticated executive with a wardrobe to match, to do is same is going to be difficult.

How difficult, you ask? Well, the makers of Freejack try to answer that question by showing the lengths a hot shot rookie race car driver named Alex Furlong (Emilio Estevez) will go to get a delicious piece of mature pussy. I know, you're thinking to yourself: That's a pretty crass way to describe Rene Russo. But I can't think of a less vulgar way to put it.

In a way, Rene Russo should be flattered that Alex Furlong is so eager to enter her fully-developed lady-hole. In the majority of movies that explore the insta-milf phenomenon, the man usually dumps the older woman for someone younger. But not here. Uh-uh. Alex Furlong risks his life multiple times to get with the sexually attractive older woman of his dreams.

Of course, the reason Alex Furlong has to risk his life in order to hook up with Julie Redlund (Rene Russo) has nothing to do with society's reluctance to accept relationships that involve young men dating older women, but everything to do with Mick Jagger and Esai Morales wanting to use his body for reasons that are a tad complicated.

Actually, they're not that complicated. In the future, certain people on the verge of death can transport their mind into the mind of a healthy body. I know, why go through the trouble of snatching the bodies of race car drivers from the early 1990s just as they're about to die in a horrific car crash? Well, the reason the individual Mick Jagger and Esai Morales work for, McCandless (Anthony Hopkins), the CEO of McCandless Corp., wants this particular body is personal/convoluted. But it makes sense overall, as the bulk of today's society are too sickly to transport one's mind to.

It's like that movie Millennium. Only, instead of transporting an entire doomed airliner's worth people into the future, they transport one person. And that person is called a "freejack." Unfortunately for McCandless, his freejack manages to escape moments after being transported from 1991 to 2009.

After a narrow escape, Alex Furlong sets about finding his milfy prize. That is, of course, if she's still alive. I mean, the 2009 version of New York City looks a tad on the bleak side.
  

Helped by a shotgun-wielding, internet surfing nun (Amanda Plummer), Alex is sent to Park Slope, Brooklyn, where his agent from '91 (David Johansen) apparently now lives. Despite the constant raging gun battles in the street, Alex manages to find his agent and is well on his way to reuniting with Julie. All he has to do is not get caught by Mick Jagger's Vacendak, and his band of armored car driving, helmet-wearing laser-rifle-packing goons.

Even though it sounded like I was joking about Rene Russo channeling Drew Barrymore, I'm actually dead serious. Since the bulk of the film's budget went to designing those futuristic bubble cars and paying the steep rental fees for the fleet of armored cars used in this movie, there wasn't anything left over to cover the cost of making Rene Russo seem believable as a twenty year-old. Well, after watching Drew Barrymore in Poison Ivy, Rene Russo decided right then and there that her (Saturn Award winning) performance in the early going of Freejack would be based on Drew Barrymore (watch her eyes, they're so Drew). It's true, I still didn't buy that Rene Russo looked twenty. But she did act the part, I'll give her that.

As for Emilio Estevez... Since he stays the same age from start to finish, no make-up is necessary to make him seem older. Nevertheless, he brings nothing of note to the film. Personally, I would have cast Christian Slater or James Spader as Alex Furlong.

My opinion as far Mick Jagger goes seems to change from day-to-day. One minute I'm like: Can you believe Mick Jagger is in this movie?!? And the next minute I'm like: Can you believe Mick Jagger in this movie?!? Wait, that's the same exact thing I said about the first minute. Either way, the sound of Mick's unique accent uttering lines like, "Get the meat!" and "Who's firing hard ammo?" was quite something. But like I said, I can't really decide if it's a good thing or a bad thing. I will say this, I did let out a mild giggle every time they would show Mick Jagger wearing his helmet (safety first).

When we do eventually meet Rene Russo in 2009, she's so chic it hurts. And, yes, her legs are usually adorned with hosiery. What kind exactly, I'm not entirely sure. But they were typically jet black and worn with long, slit-friendly skirts.

Now working for the McCandless Corp., Rene Russo has no idea that her boss (Anthony Hopkins) is planning on bringing her dead boyfriend from 1991 to 2009. If I was her, I would be flattered by the amount effort both McCandless and Alex Furlong go through to be with her.

If you think about it, the whole thing is freakin' romantic. Of course, Rene Russo doesn't see it this way. At least not right away. And because of this, Alex Furlong must jump through even more hoops to claim his milfy prize. And by "hoops," I mean, car chases, laser gun battles, and, not to mention, defeat a more conniving than usual Jonathan Banks (he plays an evil McCandless employee named Michelette). Just for the record: When it comes to being an asshole twenty-five years ago, no-one can top Jonathan Banks.

Anyway, it's a good thing Alex Furlong's "milfy prize" looks like Rene Russo, as I wouldn't have bought the film's premise (twenty year-old race car driver jumps through multiple hoops to hook up with a thirty-seven year-old executive) had the so-called "milfy prize" been someone who lacked milf-appeal. And Rene Russo... (Has milf-appeal?) Yeah. She does.

On the other hand, I didn't buy that nightclub's in 2009 would be playing Jesus Jones. Remember them? They were briefly popular back in 1991. Hell, the film can't even get 1992 right, as the use of a Scorpions song over the closing credits seems dated. Though, to be fair, hardly anyone predicted that grunge would take off the way it did at around the time of this film's release.

Oh, and keep an eye out for Jerry Hall as a newswoman (she appears during the nightclub scene) and Grand L. Bush as "Boone" Rene Russo's driver/body guard, who carries a TEC-9 and a samurai sword.

Static (Mark Romanek, 1986)

Every time I think that the greatest decade in the history of humankind has unveiled every last electrifying piece of entertainment it has to offer, along comes another slab of fantastical oddness just itching to prove that the 1980s wellspring is deeper than a bottomless cavern. Staggering before me like an overly earnest butterfly selling defective dildos door-to-door, Static is the most current film from the boxy blazer decade to capture my sweaty imagination. However, unlike its vacuous brethren–you know, pornographic flights of fancy and mentally challenged horror flicks–this undertaking, by writer-director Mark Romanek ("Closer") and co-writer Keith Gordon (A Midnight Clear), isn't really that interested in titillating or shocking its audience. Though, I somehow managed to be titillated by it. (What can I say? I'm a brash deviant who's turned on by untied shoelaces and improperly applied make-up.) Whatever. It's got something that the majority of films from this particular era seem to lack: an underlying sense of disquietude. Of course, that doesn't mean it's a weighty examination of the afterlife. On the contrary, the sight of two young Amerasian twins dancing to new wave in lizard masks solidifies that it is not a highbrow crumpet jamboree. Yet it does cause one to contemplate the existence of some kind of celestial temple. Well, not really. But you truly get the feeling that the terribly sincere protagonist in this film really believes the malarkey he's peddling.

Stating off with the image of Julia Purcell (Amanda Plummer), a clearly dissatisfied keyboard player for a punk-new wave band made up members of The Plugz, walking off stage in the middle of performing "In The Wait," the film follows her as she makes her way to the small Arizona town where she grew up. While this is taking place, Ernie Blick (Keith Gordon) has just been fired from his job at the local crucifix factory. (He had the nerve to pocket all the defect crosses for himself and hang them on his wall as a part some outre art project.) Tying both sequences together is the sound of "This is the Day" by The The blaring its unsubtle message on the soundtrack.

If you don't count the song Amanda Plummer's band perform, not a word of dialogue is uttered for the first ten minutes; which is mildly prophetic since Mr. Romanek would become mostly known as a music video director in the coming years. Anyway, Ernie losing his job at the cross factory couldn't have come at a better time, as the invention he's been working on for the past two years is just about ready to go public.

Normally confiding in Patty (Lily Knight), a cute waitress who works at a diner shaped like a giant fish, Julia's sudden arrival in town usurps her role as Ernie's go to gal. As you'd expect, Patty ain't too pleased about this turn of events. I mean, if anyone deserves the undying attention of the ex-crucifix factory worker/kooky inventor in the trench coat (did I mention the film takes place in Arizona?), it's her. Either way, both are anxious to find out what it is that Ernie has been working on for so long.

Also hankering to know Ernie's been up to is his cousin Frank (Bob Gunton), a doomsday preacher/father of two who we first meet sermonizing on top of a dumpster behind Ernie's motel; he spots Julia in the crowd (six or seven people) and accuses of her being a CIA agent (he's a tad paranoid). The scenes that feature Bob (complete with apocalyptic moustache) and his family were definitely the wackiest. Radiation suits, Tang, walls covered in firearms, military saluting in a living room setting; they're super ready for World War III.

The way Static builds up Ernie's invention is the film's strongest plot-based element. Revealed in a slow and deliberate manner, the anticipation over his apparently life changing gizmo increases in a way that keeps the townsfolk buzzing with excitement.

Sure, a large segment of the population thinks he's completely meshugganah, but they all seem to respect his dedication. I also liked how both the women in Ernie's life were similar, not just in appearance but in the way they carried themselves with a quiet dignity.

The lovely Amanda Plummer (Freeway), the dream girl of demented losers the world over, is amazing usual as Julia, Ernie's long lost love. Giving a performance that oozes tranquility, Amanda is a master when it comes to trying to decipher the fragility of a tormented man and his wounded psyche. Her best scene is when she attempts to comfort Ernie after one particularly arduous experience involving his newfangled gadget.

Even quieter in terms of stillness, Lily Knight (she played the woman who listens to Maggie Gyllenhaal's character masturbate in Secretary) does an excellent job of portraying restrained jealously. I loved how she tried to spice up her image at the unveiling of Ernie's invention. Casting aside her drab waitress uniform, Lily's Patty attempts to "out new wave" her revival by wearing a shirt without sleeves and applying a bit of make-up were adorable...in a "Please stop paying attention to Amanda Plummer and feast your eyes on me" kinda way.

The best aspect about Keith Gordon's work in this film, aside from the fact that he co-wrote the screenplay, is credited as a producer, and freaking hottie, was how convinced he was about the greatness of his invention. When selling what he sells in this movie, you can't go half-assed, you have to attack the material with a unique brand of gusto (none of that weak, store bought gusto). Otherwise, you come off looking like some two bit charlatan.

Helping Keith in terms of creating an eccentric, almost surreal atmosphere was the film's terrific soundtrack. On top of the aforementioned The The song and performance by The Plugz, Static features tracks by OMD, Japan, Brian Eno, and Johnny Cash.

I don't really want to go into much detail about what Ernie's invention is actually intended to do; I found my not knowing to be quite invigorating. I will say that its germination came about after Ernie's parents died in a car accident and it's supposedly makes everyone who looks at it to behave in a manner that is the opposite of sad. Only problem for Ernie is trying to get people to look at it. And since social networking and reality television are still years away, a bus full of elderly women will have to do. Again, I don't want to comment on how a bunch of old ladies end up in the mix, but their arrival is a testament to what an unpredictable delight the film turned out to be. Highly recommended to those who like their '80s movies to be a tad off-kilter.

video uploaded by tiberiuswoodyboyd

(Warning: Embedded video clip contains spoilers after the two minute mark.)

...

Freeway (Matthew Bright, 1996)

Unchecked lewdness, moments of excessive violence, scenes of abhorrent tastelessness, and most importantly of all, it's funny as hell...in a dark, "Oh, no, she didn't!" kinda way. The rambunctious Freeway is a film that not only celebrates the tawdrier aspects of society (underage prostitution, girl-on-girl roughhousing, bilingual solicitation), but also manages to be one of the funniest films I have seen in a long-ass time. Using the classic folktale Little Red Riding Hood as his foundation, writer-director Matthew Bright (Forbidden Zone) has taken the story of a hood-wearing picnic enthusiast with a Grandmother fixation and turned it into a modern day allegory about sexual abuse, serial killers and parental ineptitude. In this souped-up version of the old-timey children's fable we follow the messed up adventures of teenage hellion, Vanessa Lutz (Reese Witherspoon), an illiterate, shapely legged little terror, who enjoys locking whoremonger's in the trunks of cars and making shanks in her spare-time. The film starts off with Vanessa's streetwalker mom (a scrumptiously sleazy Amanda Plummer) and deviant stepfather (a twitchy Michael T. Weiss) being arrested on the same day. And, as you would expect, the foulmouthed scamp is quite despondent. So she ditches her parole officer and hatches a plan to stay with Grandma, who lives up in Stockton, California (the town where Fat City was filmed and the birthplace of Pavement). Only problem is, her lemon of a car breaks down on the freeway. Fortunately (and I use that word carefully), a kindly stranger named Bob Wolverton (Kiefer Sutherland) offers to give her a ride the rest of the way.

Sexy and full of spunk, Reese Witherspoon blew the hell out of me as Vanessa, the sassiest piece of jailbait this side of Flin Flon. The scrunchy-faced actress completely destroys my image of her in this movie.

Discharging a rapid fire barrage of hilariously filthy put-downs at anyone within earshot, Reese gives an impassioned and volatile performance that left me dumbfounded. In Vanessa Lutz, Miss Witherspoon has created a character so enchanting, so endearing, that I get all tingly just thinking about her. Whether she's gently pistol-whipping necrophiliacs in the back of the head or beating a fellow inmate with a pay-phone receiver, Vanessa trampled her way into the blackened recesses of my perverted heart.

Her interrogation scene with the always reliable Dan Heydaya and Wolfgang Bodison (I loved the way he seemed aroused by Lutz' descriptions of her past crimes) is the best example of Reese's acting mettle (wonderfully unselfconscious and feisty to the max). This particular scene is also a great example of the film's very un-PC dialogue. I also adored the fact her step dad taught her how to make a juvie-quality shank.

Oh, and the look Reese's face in that picture detectives show to Kiefer when he's in the hospital was the funniest thing I've seen in years.

A girl-loving Brittany Murphy is totally awesome as Rhonda (Reese's slightly unhinged bunk-mate while she's in prison). The way she said the lines, "I'm in here for huffin' paint" and "They found a gram of tar up my kooch" had me rolling near the floor.

The lover of tacky fashion in me thinks Brooke Shields' seafaring wardrobe and dangly jewelry deserves major kudos. On top of that, I thought Tara Subkoff's leg brace was a wonderfully odd character touch; the makeup used to create Kiefer's grotesque smile was well-crafted; and Alanna Ubach's strangling technique was absolutely splendid in its ghastliness. You know what they say, nothing beats getting strangled to death in a gas station restroom.

...