Meet the Applegates (Michael Lehmann, 1990)

Over the past year, I've seen the stocking tops of rock legend Deborah Harry (Drop Dead Rock), Star Trek: DS9 actress Nana Visitor (The Spirit), Dame Helen Mirren (The Cook, the Thief, His Wife and Her Lover) and Brat Pack-adjacent cutie-pie Jami Gertz (Less Than Zero). Well, you can add another stocking top glimpse to my ever-growing list. No, not Stockard Channing. What's that? Cami Cooper? Uh-uh, not her either. At around the midway point in Meet the Applegates, the best satire about a family of giant praying mantis' living in suburban Ohio to come out in 1990, and, not to mention, the third best "Meet" movie from the period (Meet the Hollowheads is #1, while Meet the Feebles comes in at #2), we get to see the tops of Dabney Coleman's stockings. You heard right. I said, Dabney Coleman. I'll give you a few seconds to adjust your genitals, as they no doubt changed shape the moment I said Dabney Coleman's name in correlation with stocking tops. Are you good? Great. While I was already sold on this movie way before he even makes his first appearance, Dabney Coleman in drag pretty much solidified its standing as a substantial work of art.

Taking place in the same small town Ohio universe that birthed Heathers and Welcome Home Roxy Carmichael, Meet the Applegates... Actually, now that I think about it, Meet the Applegates could be seen as a sequel to Heathers. Sure, the script lacks Daniel "Fuck Me Gently With a Chainsaw" Waters' trademark snarky dialogue. It does, however, boast other less important  Heather alumni, such as writer-director Michael Lehmann, tubby southern dandy Glenn Shadix, three out of the four producers (including Denise Di Novi), and Mark Bringelson and Chuck Lafont (the cops from the "oh, man, I can't believe they were fags" scene). So, you see, it's got a lot more going for it than Dabney Coleman in drag.

If that wasn't enough... (Yeah, yeah. Not only does Dabney Coleman appear in drag, but he plays a praying mantis disguised as Dabney Coleman dressed in drag.) I was going to say, Susan Barnes (Repo Man) puts on a kooky sweater clinic in this movie. But you're kind of right. There are actually multiple levels going on with Dabney Coleman's character.

Let's see if I can break it down: Dabney Coleman plays Aunt Bea, the queen of a species of large praying mantises who live in the Amazon rainforest. In order to pass as human, Aunt Bea uses the body of a man who looks like Dabney Coleman. And since Aunt Bea is still a female praying mantis underneath her Dabney Coleman costume, she instinctively wears women's clothing.

Not to toot my own horn, but that has got to be the greatest Dabney Coleman/Aunt Bea break down ever.

The reason Aunt Bea is trying to pass as human is because the forest her species of praying mantis (the "Brazilian Cocorada bug") calls home is being threatened by deforestation. And since they can't strike back at humanity looking like praying mantises (though, I can't see why not), they decide instead to go undercover. And this is where the Applegates come in.

Sent on a mission to destroy a nuclear power plant in suburban Ohio, the Applegates,  Dick Applegate (Ed Begley Jr.), Jane Applegate (Stockard Channing), Sally Applegate (Cami Cooper) and Johnny Applegate (Robert Jayne, a.k.a. Bobby Jacoby), pretend to be an average American family.

In-between keeping Aunt Bea informed of their progress and maintaining the illusion that they're normal, the Applegate's struggle to resist the many temptations that humans face on a daily basis.

The first to succumb to temptation is Sally, who causes Vince Samson (Adam Biesk - Corey Halfrick from My So-Called Life), a high school football player, to pop a chubby when she walks by in red shorts. Now, it should be noted that while Sally is interested in Vince (and his erect penis), she clearly didn't want him to rape her on a trampoline.  No, that's definitely not what she intended. As a result of this rape, Sally's gets pregnant. However, instead of calling the police, Sally elects to rap him up in a cocoon and hide his anesthetized corpse in her bedroom closet.

In today's world, rape and high school football go hand in hand. But back in 1990, rape was frowned upon. In other words, this was a big deal back then. Or maybe it wasn't. I remember it being illegal, that's for sure.

You could apply the same logic almost every temptation subplot. Take Bobby's dilemma, for example. If you were to see a movie or a TV show made today that featured a teenage boy smoking pot, you would probably shrug your shoulders. But back in 1990, smoking pot was a no-no. As you might expect, the sight of a fresh-faced Bobby–who befriends Kevin and Kenny (Philip Arthur Ross and Steven Robert Ross), a couple of stoners/headbangers in matching denim vests–smoking weed out of a bong sent shock waves across the square, Just Say No-saturated landscape that was 1990.

Since I'm on a role, I might as well bring up Jane's temptation, which is, credit card debt. While browsing the local dumpsters for groceries (remember, they're praying mantises, not people), Jane makes friends with Opel Withers (Susan Barnes), the stylish wife of Dick's boss. When Opel takes Jane clothes shopping, she is surprised to learn that Jane doesn't have a credit card. Well, you can pretty much guess what happens next. (Jane gets a credit card?) And not only that... (She accumulates a massive credit card bill?) Well, yeah.

Anyway, like rape and marijuana usage, credit card debt is now seen as an everyday part of life. In fact, if you're not a pot smoking rapist in debt, the government views you with suspicion.

Should I mention Dick's temptation? What the hell. It's basically sex. The temptation for a man to mount the milfy hips of a shapely co-worker in a sexual manner  has always been around, so, this subplot lacks the bite of the others. Nonetheless, I found Savannah Smith Boucher's "milfy hips" to be sublime and would mount them in a New York minute... if she wanted me to. Remember kids. Rape is against the law. Oh, and Miss Boucher, in case you're wondering, plays "Dottie," Dick's sultry secretary.

While not really a temptation, per se, I thought the film's pro-environmental message to be a tad ahead of its time. Most folks don't know this, but the only people who were genuinely interested protecting the environment back in 1990 were Sting and, ironically, Ed Begley Jr., so, to see a relatively mainstream Hollywood movie imply that cutting down the rainforest could have a negative effect on the planet's ecosystem was quite daring.

If I didn't know any better, I think, judging by what I've written so far, that this film is trying to tell us something. Sure, it might have failed miserably at stopping the rise of rape culture, and its stance on drugs might seem outdated in today's pro-legalization climate, but Meet the Applegates was on the cutting edge when it came to saving the planet.

Messages aside, the film is actually funny in places. The biggest laugh comes when Jane stumbles across Dick watching television in the middle of the afternoon, and Dick says, "I thought I'd take the afternoon off to watch some curling." I don't know if Dick knows this, but watching curling is the least normal thing an American can do.

As the Applegate's start to run out of places to hide all the people they've "kidnapped" (each family member ends up cocooning someone in a sack made out of fibrous material), things begin to spiral out of control. It doesn't help matters that Dick's hooked on milf pussy, Jane's become a shopaholic, Johnny's a drug addict and Sally's a pregnant lesbian. If only there was a way for humanity and nature to coexist with one another. According to this film, coexistence is possible. But that dream has long since died. Well, that was a depressing thought. To cheer myself up, I'm going to put on my winklepickers and dance to The Sisters of Mercy... in the dark. "Black. Black planet. Black. Black world." Oh, yeah... that's the stuff.

Special thanks to Stacie for recommending this movie.

Cat People (Paul Scrader, 1982)

Dare I fetishize thigh-high hip waders? (What are you talking about? You better fetishize thigh-high hip waders. I mean, I didn't click on your review of Paul Schrader's for you not to fetishize thigh-high hip waders.) Fine. I'll fetishize thigh-high hip waders. If the reason the name "Paul Schrader" sounds familiar, it's because he wrote Taxi Driver. (Hey, what do you think you're doing?) Um, hello? I'm writing about Cat People. (I can see that, but what about the thigh-high hip waders? I'm no brain doctor, but the thigh skin that periodically pokes out from the top of  Nastassja Kinski's thigh-high hip waders while fishing for some crawfish from a Louisina river ain't going to describe itself.) But I read somewhere that it's mandatory to mention the fact that Paul Schrader wrote Taxi Driver when doing a review of Cat People, or any other non-Taxi Driver-related Paul Schrader film for that matter. (Since when do you do what's mandatory? You're going to stand out from the crowd if you blather endlessly about the brief scene where the too luminous for words Nastassja Kinski wears thigh-high hip waders.) But won't I come off as perverted and weird if I do that? (Yeah, but you want to come off as perverted and weird.) I do? (You know it.) Okay, if you say so. All right, let me think, how does one craft a movie review that centres around thigh-high hip waders? (Well, first of all, you should stop calling them "thigh-high hip waders." Think about it, how can they be thigh-high and go up to your hip at the same time?) You mean I should call them thigh-high fishing boots instead? (Or better yet, just drop the "hip.")

You would think Paul Schrader was channeling Jess Franco by the way his camera focuses on Nastassja Kinski as she struggles to deposit some recently caught crawfish into a bucket. (Are you implying that Paul's decision to show Nastassja bending over with her back to the camera was gratuitous? 'Cause if you are, you would be dead wrong. The reason he does this is to show that the curator of the New Orleans Zoological Park is developing amorous feelings towards Miss Kinski.) Don't you think it's obvious that he's developing amorous feelings towards her? He did, after all, land her a sweet job at the zoo's gift shop. (That's true, but nothing sends prudish American men over the titillation edge more than the sight of an ambiguously European woman bending over in thigh-high fishing boots. It's science! Okay, maybe it's not an exact science; more like a loose collection of half-baked theories and asinine brain anomalies. But can you think of anything else that's sexier than the sight of Nastassja Kinski in thigh-high fishing boots?)

Oh, I don't know, how about the sight of Lynn Lowry (Score) in black stockings? (Holy crap, that is sexier.) Told you. And get this, I've always thought Lynn Lowry had a bit of a feline vibe about her. (But she doesn't play a cat person in Cat People.) I know, but she plays a prostitute who attracts a cat person. (I think I get it. She's not a cat person.) Right. (But cat people find her attractive.) Keep going. (Hence, she has a feline vibe about her.) Bingo! (I can't believe I'm about to say this, but that makes perfect sense.)

Cat people might find her attractive, but that doesn't mean they're not going to try to tear her apart. You see, cat people can only have sex with other cat people. No matter how appealing they may look in black lingerie, the desire to rip the flesh from their bones is unstoppable.

Now, someone, like, say, a cynical prostitute with a flat stomach, might have no trouble whatsoever deciding that it's probably a bad idea to get romantically involved with a cat person. But what if you're a mild-mannered curator of an old-timey zoo (one that stills uses cages with bars) who falls in love like it were bodily function, what advice would give them?

Step softly and always have enough rope on hand, as you never know when you might have to tie your cat girlfriend to a bed. (Yikes, that sounds kinky.) Yeah, I guess it sort of does. But then again, I was mildly turned on by the scene where Ruby Dee explains the origin of character's name, so, maybe I'm not the best person to decide what is kinky and what is not kinky.

(Don't worry, you're not in danger of losing your kink cred. The scene where a human male ties up his human/black leopard hybrid girlfriend so he can have sexual intercourse with her without having to worry about being torn apart during the post-coital aftermath is definitely kinky.) That's a relief, for a minute there I thought I was being a fuddy-duddy.

Just curious, am I the only one who thought Ruby Dee was smoking hot in this movie? Interesting, none of you have your hands raised, but I'm noticing some slight nodding here and there. Meaning, I wasn't the only one. Sure, her basement is filled with the half-eaten corpses of hookers and teenage runaways, but her accent is sexy and her bone structure is sublime.

Speaking of bone structure, Nastassja Kinski! Oh my god! Talk about sublime. I can't believe this is my first Nastassja Kinski film. (Are you sure about that? Maybe you should skim through her film credits.) Nah, I don't feel like doing that. Besides, this is definitely the first Nastassja Kinski film I've seen in the past ten years. Either way, I would have loved to have seen this film in theatre when it came out in the early '80s, as I would have loved to have heard the loud gasps coming from the audience the moment when Nastassja Kinski first appears onscreen. She is simply stunning.

Meeting her long lost brother Paul (Malcolm McDowell) at the airport in New Orleans, Irena (Nastassja Kinski) seems excited to start her new life in The Big Easy. Taking her to his fancy house on Weird French Name Street in the Gumbo District (Go Saints, Go!), Malcolm, I mean, Paul, introduces Irena to Ruby Dee's Female (pronounced "fee-molly"), a Renfield-esque woman who takes care of Paul's affairs when he's out busy doing cat stuff.

After some awkward brother-sister closeness (I totally thought they were going to kiss at one point), Irena goes to sleep. But does Paul go to sleep? I don't think so. Donning a black tank-top, Paul, after doing some awkward brother-sister lurking in Irena's bedroom, heads out for the evening.

Even though we don't see Malcolm McDowell for quite some time, I'll go ahead and assume that he has transformed into the black leopard that is currently resting underneath a bed in a cheap hotel. Sitting on said bed is Ruthie (Lynn Lowry), a sexy prostitute who is dressed exactly the way a prostitute is supposed to dress.

Let's give her hooker ensemble a quick once over, shall we? Black bra? Check. Black stockings held up with black suspenders? Check. Black garter belt? Check. Black heels? Check. You see, she's perfect.

(Wait, you forgot to ask if she has a nasty gash on her right ankle.) Why would I ask that? Hold on, the black leopard resting underneath the bed she is currently sitting on is starting to get grumpy. You know what that means? Nasty gash on her right ankle? Check.

Here's a fun-fact: It turns out the gooey residue cat people leave behind when they transform from humans to leopards is edible. Gooey residue, it's what's for dinner...after you have just torn apart the bubbly blonde chick who gives sage advice to not-so bubbly brunettes from The Beach Girls; I'm talking about Tessa Richarde, by the way, she plays Billie, a ditzy gal who comes face-to-face with Paul's inability to get hard when he's with women who are not his sister.

Also struggling to come to terms with the fact she can't have sex with humans without getting the urge to tear them apart afterwards is Irena, who takes a liking to Oliver (John Heard from C.H.U.D.), an easy-going zookeeper. Someone should tell Irena to look somewhere else, but Alice (Annette O'Toole), a fellow zookeeper, is going out with Oliver. Oh, and before you say: Who wouldn't dump someone in order to go on a sexual bender with Nastassja Kinski? Please remember, Alice is played by Annette O'Toole. Who's she, you ask? Um, she's a redhead. And no no bra-wearing piece of Euro-trash can tarnish the intrinsic allure of a well-moisturized redhead.

This "intrinsic allure" could be real, but Oliver is totally making a play for Irena (he got her a job at the zoo's gift shop). I wonder if he knows that she's the descendent of an ancient tribe of leopard people? I don't think it matters, these cat folks have a way about them that causes non-cat folks to lose their kitty litter.

I know someone else who might have a problem with this cross-species relationship, and his name is Paul. Oh, yeah, I forgot about him. Torn between the human world and the animal kingdom, Irena must decide which realm is for her. Actually, the choice is actually between BDSM and incest, if you think about it.

With help of Italians Ferdinando Scarfiotti ("visual consultant") and legendary electronic music producer Giorgo Moroder, Paul Schrader has made one of the sexiest American horror movies of all-time. (So, what you're saying is, if it wasn't for the two Italian men you just mentioned, the film wouldn't have been sexy?) Yeah, that's exactly what I'm saying. I mean, would someone who wasn't under the influence of Italians have Annette O'Toole wear mismatched bra and panties? I don't think so. Featuring vibrant colours and a great location, Cat People is a rarity: A glossy Hollywood movie with a wonderfully perverted European sensibility.

Get Crazy (Allan Arkush, 1983)

Made during a time when superficial mayhem wasn't even close to being frowned upon, the little seen Get Crazy is a stark reminder of how playful music used to be. Of course, I'm not saying that music isn't fun anymore (Karen O. seems like a fun gal), but the music world presented in this film is not same as the one we live in – you know, the one where a teen pop star gets scolded for displaying her naked back, or touching a pole in an erotic fashion. For one thing, sex and drugs are openly pursued, and behaving irresponsibly in public is not only encouraged, it's mandatory. Hell, even the seemingly straight-laced Paul Bartel (Eating Raoul) jumps willy-nilly from a lofty balcony at the behest of a screaming punk singer named Piggy (Lee Ving - the most Aussie-looking Minnesotan ever). Promoting the convergence of rock and roll, new wave, blues rock, glam rock and punk, director Allan Arkush (Rock 'n' Roll High School) presents a universe where these distinct styles can commingle and thrive all under the same roof. Presenting the shockingly simplistic tale of a storied theatre (The Saturn) being threatened by comically evil tycoon (Ed Begley Jr.) just as their about to put a big New Year's show to ring in 1983, the rowdy film mainly focuses on Neil Allen (Daniel Stern) and his desperate struggle to maintain a semblance of sanity as the kooky array of acts slowly begin to show up at the theatre.

Each musical act gets to the gig in their own unique style: A group of hippies lead by Captain Cloud (Howard Kaylan) arrive early, but also kinda late (they thought it was Dec. 31, 1968); a blues band called King Blues (fronted by Bill Henderson) get to the show in a smashed up Rolls Royce -- Cool (Franklin Ajaye) ain't the best driver; a mildly depraved glam rocker named Reggie Wanker (Malcolm McDowell) arrives via his groupie-filled, cocaine-fueled jet plane; and Auden (Lou Reed), a metaphysical folk singer, tells the cab driver to take the "scenic route" (he's still working on a song).

An energetic Lori Eastside and her band Nada (with Lee Ving in the trunk) make my favourite entrance, in what can be best described as a garish presentation of new wave/punk clothing, hair and makeup. I liked how each Nada member got their moment in the sun (fashion-wise) as they got out of their car.

Complicating matters–but only slightly–is Neil's little sister Susie (Stacey Nelkin), who desperately wants to attend the show, and the welcome arrival of Willy (Gail Edwards), an attractive friend and former employee of the Saturn's ailing owner.

The rambunctious Susie reminded me Stephanie Kaye (Nicole Stoffman's character from Degrassi Junior High) and Debbie Strand (the temptress played by Rose McGowan in Devil in the Flesh), in that they all left their places of residence in drab, unsexy clothes, but transported themselves into more trollop-friendly attire along the way to their desired location. Only difference being that Stephanie and Debbie were going to school dressed like pg-rated prostitutes. Susie, on the other hand, was attending a wild concert that would feature a giant walking and talking marijuana joint, Malcolm McDowell's massive crotch bulge, and Mary Worornov in an angora sweater.

A series of fantasy sequences that featured a scantily clad Gail Edwards looking all sexy in first-rate lingerie were one of the many non-musical highlights to come out of Get Crazy, a film that is rife with moments of sheer stupidity.

Anyone familiar with his film about the adventures of Riff Randall and the Ramones will not be surprised by the fact that Allan Arkush loves to saturate the screen with childish sight gags and broad physical humour.

Combining both of these distinct styles of comedy was the little aside that featured Malcolm McDowell having a conversation with his penis. Okay, now wait a minute, that's the second time I've referred to Malcolm's genitalia, and that's one too many. Though, I have to admit, I was strangely turned on by the way his manly protrusion dented the front of his dystopian underpants in A Clockwork Orange. So... my obsession shouldn't come as a total shock. (That's four references, by the way, for those keeping score.)

Other than the feistiness of "I'm Not Going to Take It No More" by Lori Eastside, I wasn't that impressed by Get Crazy's musical performances (too much rock, not enough new wave). Luckily, the aforementioned goofiness is implemented at such a rapid pace, that I didn't really have time to effectively scrutinize the music. Besides, bloated arena rock and old timey blues music doesn't exactly scream 1983. Ending the picture, however, with a Sparks' song (the aptly titled "Get Crazy") kinda made up for some of the film's musical squareness.

You know what they say: Whether you put one at the beginning (Heavenly Bodies), plop in the middle (Valley Girl), or, in this film's case, crank it at the end, having a Sparks song on your soundtrack is a surefire way to make your film a little more awesome. Oh, and I loved how the film seemed to promote drug use.

video uploaded by lhjvirtual 80

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