Scenes from the Goldmine (Marc Rocco, 1987)

Do we really need another movie to tell us that the music industry is full of assholes? Since I'm the only one here at the moment, I'll go ahead and answer that question myself. No, we do not. We do, however, need more movies that star the amazing Catherine Mary Stewart, an actress who you might know from Night of the Comet, Nightflyers, Dudes, etc... Oh, and The Apple! (God, how could I forget The Apple?) And Scenes from the Goldmine provides us with more C.M.S. than all those other movies combined. (Even more than The Apple?) Oh, you better believe it. This film is the ultimate C.M.S. experience. Sure, it's premise is basically this: The music industry sucks. But nothing is gonna stop me from enjoying the sight of Catherine Mary Stewart playing keyboards in winklepicklers alongside... (Wait a second. Did you just say, winklepickers?) Yeah, so? (How are you so calm right now?) Trust me, I'm not calm. In fact, my mind is racing like a cocaine-fueled tornado. When the camera zooms in on Catherine's multi-buckle winklepickers while her band was jamming at a local bar at their rehearsal space, I had to stop watching for a minute, as my psyche suddenly found itself inundated with pure, pointy-footed pleasure.

As far as I'm concerned, there's no other type of footwear on the planet that brings me more joy than winklepickers. Okay, creepers make me smile as well. But when it comes right down to it, I'm a winklepicker man through and through. Always have been, always will be.

Of course, I own pair of winklepickers myself. Unfortunately, due to financial constraints, I could only afford a pair of winklepickers that sport two buckles. Don't feel too sorry for me, my two buckle winklepickers and I have had some pretty good times together. It's just that I feel that I could have had an even better time if my winklepickers had more buckles.

Anyway, what caused me to react so intensely to the sight of Catherine Mary Stewart's winklepickers was the fact that they had [are you sitting down?] six(!) buckles (that's a total of twelve all-together). When I would dream about owning a pair of winklepickers that had more than two buckles, I would usually stop at four buckles. So, as you might expect, the sight of C.M.S. wearing a pair with six... (Yeah, yeah, you like pointy, goth-friendly footwear.) You don't understand, they're very important to me.

Besides, I'm sure everyone would rather listen to me bather on and on about winklepickers, than listen to me describe the plot of this toothless jab at the music industry. Yes, people who work for record labels are terrible human beings. We get it.

While it's true, the film, written and directed by Marc Rocco, does cover a lot of familiar territory, it does have a few nice twists here and there. The biggest one being that Niles Dresden (Cameron Dye) of Niles Dresden and The Pieces is just as big of a phoney as the music execs.

To an outsider, the red flags should have started waving immediately. But I guess Debi DiAngelo (Catherine Mary Stewart) was too awestruck by Niles' mega-mullet to think clearly. I mean, the way Niles and the boys, Dennis Lameraux (Timothy B. Schmidt) on bass, and Kenny Bond (John Ford Coley) on drums, fired Stephanie (Pamela Springsteen), their previous keyboard player, should have sent alarm bells ringing in Debi's head. But like I said, his mega-mullet is pretty persuasive.

I know, how can an overgrown clump of hair cause someone to lose touch with reality? It's simple, really, the clump in question is flowing from the back of the head attached to Cameron Dye (Valley Girl), a man whose sharp bone structure could moisten even the most obdurate of panties.

Of course, I don't mean to imply that Debi's new wave panties are soaking wet after successfully auditioning to be the band's new keyboard player. I'm just saying her judgment must have been hampered somewhat. As the quote that opens the film says, "A good girl falls for a wild one every time."

Now that Debi is a fully-fledged member of the Pieces, Harry (Steve Railsback, Lifeforce), the band's manager and Niles' brother, get them a gig at a local club, where Manny Ricci (Joe Pantoliano), an artists and repertoire man for Rush Records, will apparently be in attendance.

Even though the song they play, "Listen To My Heartbeat," is a non-threatening slab of banal mid-80s pop rock if I ever heard one, the band still manages to impress Manny, who tells them to basically keep at it.

After having dinner with her drug addict brother and her disapproving parents (her father, played by Alex Rocco, doesn't like the fact that his daughter is performing at clubs with names like, "The Lingerie"), Debi hangs out at the beach with Dana (Jewel Shepard), her best friend/roommate. It wasn't until near the end of the movie that I realized that Debi's pal was played by Jewel Shepard. I blame the director for this, as he seemed to like to shoot everyone, except for the two leads, from afar; the same goes for Lee Ving, who plays an eccentric music video director.

Taking Manny's advice to keep at it, Niles and the Pieces perform "I Was Just Asking" at their rehearsal space. On top of being my favourite song in the movie, this is the sequence where we first see Catherine Mary Stewart in her six buckle winkpicklers.

In a weird twist, Catherine's winklepickers get more close-ups than both Jewel Shepard and Lee Ving combined.

Speaking of weird twists, the decision to feature three bands performing covers of "Twist and Shout" during Niles and Debi's club crawl courtship sequence was the film's most interesting from a stylistic point of view. Of course, the version I liked the most was the robo-synth one by James House's Roberto Roberto.

Now, I don't want to say too much about what happens after Niles and Debi eventually become a couple. Though, I will say this, Debi should have never shown Niles her giant binder of songs. Seriously, that was a bad decision (you'll see why). But I like said earlier, it's hard to say no to a fully-mulleted Cameron Dye... he's a wild one.

Even though you'd be probably better off watching Ladies and Gentlemen... The Fabulous Stains, Breaking Glass, or even Eddie and the Cruisers, if you're a fan of Catherine Mary Stewart (who does all her own singing), music movies, winklepickers and zebra print, you should probably check this film out. If you can find it (there's hardly any information about this film on the interweb).

Black Moon Rising (Harley Cokeliss, 1986)

If I was serving aboard a space station with Linda Hamilton's character in Black Moon Rising, the high-tech techno thriller co-written by John Carpenter and directed by Harley Cokeliss (who's credited here as "Cokliss," but I guess he, wisely, decided to add the 'e' at a later date), I would have stolen all her pant suits and... (You pant suit obsessed pervert. Not only have you created a scenario that would never happen--like any reputable space agency would allow you to go into space--but you managed to creep everyone out in record time.) Um, you didn't let me finish. As I was saying, I would have stolen all Linda Hamilton's pant suits and tossed them in the nearest airlock. (You mean you would have jettisoned them?) Yeah, jettisoned them, I like that. Anyway, I would have jettisoned them without hesitation. (Don't you think her decision to wear pants made it easier to perform her job? I mean, her job is to steal cars, not to give shiftless reprobates boners.) Hello? Since when has it been impossible to steal a car while wearing a modest skirt? And besides, these "boners" you speak of will actually come in handy. (Huh?) What? You don't think Linda Hamilton steals the cars herself, do you? Don't be crass, Linda Hamilton is too classy for that. No, she distracts the car's soon to be former owners with her womanly charms, while a team of men in blue jumpsuits pick the parking lot clean of the cars their boss desires.

(I'm still not convinced. Call me daft, but I think a modest skirt, one that boasts an equally modest slit, would have been a far more effective garment for Linda Hamilton to wear while stealing a shitload of cars.)

You don't say. Well, I think you might be underestimating the intrinsic allure of Linda Hamilton. (Ya think?) Yes, I do. She's got something about her that transcends modest slits and skimpy hemlines. (Don't tell me, it's her captivating face.) While I don't exactly care for the smug tone you're currently using, you're absolutely right, Linda Hamilton's face rules in this movie.

If that's the case, doesn't that mean her face would have to rule in every movie? I know, when you cast Linda Hamilton to be in your film, you usually get Linda Hamilton's face as well. But there's something different about the way it's shot in Black Moon Rising. Part of it has to do with the manner in which cinematographer Misha Suslov photographs her face (he has a tendency to bathe it neon light whenever possible), but most of the credit has to go to Linda Hamilton herself, as her face oozes a peculiar brand of sadness.

("A peculiar brand of sadness," eh? Colour me intrigued.) While she's grateful to her boss, Ed Ryland (Robert Vaughn), the car thief king of the west coast, for getting her off the streets, she's not all that happy being a criminal. Having access to fancy cars and an unlimited wig budget is great and all, but Nina, the actual name of Linda Hamilton's character, seems lost.

(You're not implying that she needs a rugged, freelance thief  in her life, one, perhaps, who is played by Tommy Lee Jones, are you?) While I would never imply that, a little T.L.J. is never a bad thing.

A government e-mail is sent to an Agent Johnson (Bubba Smith), F.B.I., instructing him that they need to get their hands on the financial records of the Lucky Dollar Corporation out of Las Vegas for an upcoming grand jury trial. Not wanting to steal "data tape #757-65" themselves, the government suggests that Agent Johnson, F.B.I., employ a freelance operative to procure the desired tape. In other words, hire a professional thief.

We meet this freelance operative while he nonchalantly confronts an inexperienced criminal wielding a pistol during an attempted convenience store robbery. Is Quint (Tommy Lee Jones) brave, suicidal, stupid, or all three? Either way, he manages to talk the gunman out of robbing the store, and then calmly continues to drink his coffee. Instead of labeling him, "brave, suicidal, or stupid," I'm declaring Quint to be a badass. Why? Look at the way he drives around Las Vegas to the music of Lalo Schifrin, it practically screams badass. The stealing of the data tape itself goes relatively smoothly. That is, until, Lee Ving shows up with Uzi (as he's one to do). Since Quint knows Lee Ving's character (he's in charge of security for the Lucky Dollar Corporation), he feels like he deserves more money (he didn't expect there to be any "old friends" firing Uzis at him on this job).

Eventually, Lee Ving and the boys (his underpaid underlings) track Quint and his bullet-ridden car down at a gas station located somewhere between Las Vegas and Los Angeles. Hiding the data tape in the back of an experimental car called Black Moon--one that was just clocked in at 325 mph during a recent test run and is being towed by Earl Windom (Richard Jaeckel), the car's designer, Billy Lyons (Dan Shor), the car's driver, and Tyke Thayden (William Sanderson), the car's mechanic--Quint hopes to rendezvous with the car at The Betsy, a fancy restaurant in Hollywood, where the Black Moon team plan on inking a deal with an Italian car company.

In the meantime, before Lee Ving and the boys show up, Quint takes the time to chat up an attractive redhead. Hey, wouldn't you know, the attractive redhead is played by none other than Lisa London, Rocky from Savage Beach and Guns.

After evading Lee Ving and the boys and acquiring another, less bullet-ridden, automobile, Quint heads over to The Betsy to get his precious data tape. Well, I must say, that wasn't a very interesting movie. Wait a minute, we have Linda Hamilton in a wig. I repeat... (don't repeat that.) Yeah, but, Linda Hamilton is... (We get it, she rules.) I don't think you get it, Linda Hamilton is wearing a wig and she's carrying a cellphone that's as big as a shoe box. (Aw, man, I didn't think you would become one of those blithering gits who constantly make snide comments related to the size of cellphones seen in movies made during the 1980s.) What can I say, I'm a snide git who loves to blither about chunky cellphones.

She must have a robust data plan, because Nina (Linda Hamilton) is always talking on her morbidly obese mobile phone.

Anyway, after bumping into Quint in the parking lot, Nina goes inside The Betsy and allows some dingus aggressively hit on her at the bar; you can tell Quint likes her already by the look on his face as he eavesdrops on her "conversation."

Little does anyone in the bar know, but Nina is planning on stealing a Rolls-Royce, an Excalibur, an Aston Martin and two Mercedes Benz's. I know, how is a single woman going to steal that many cars? Well, don't worry, she's got an entire team of car thieves working for her. As the desired cars are being driven away, Nina notices a strange car sitting on the back of a trailer. Deciding that she wants it, Nina hops in, pushes a few buttons, and she's off. Of course, Quint's data tape is still hidden in the back, so he jumps in his car and begins to follow her.

Oozing retro futurism and featuring cool camera angles, the chase between Quint's Dodge Daytona and Nina's Wingho Concordia II is probably the film's most memorable in terms of style. It's true, the music could have been more techno-ish, but I think it's safe to say that the sight of Linda Hamilton behind the wheel of that kooky car (the lights emanating from the dashboard dancing across her face like bolts of neon lightning), is worth its weight in scrunchies.

While the well-paid underlings in the blue jumpsuits answer to Nina, she answers to Ed Ryland (Robert Vaughn), a vintage car collector/evil bastard; to prove he's an evil bastard, he has Nick Cassavetes strangle a rival, and does so with a sly smile.

The fact that Nina stole the Black Moon without Mr. Ryland's permission causes friction between them. It also doesn't help matters that Quint (who still has Bubba Smith breathing down his neck) and the owners of the Black Moon are snooping around Ryand Towers, Mr. Ryand's state of the art headquarters (he keeps his car collection on the top floor and runs an elaborate chop shop/import-export business out of the basement).

When Nina is pissed, she drives a Jaguar XK-E, when she's horny, she drives a Studebaker Gran Turismo Hawk. Look at me, namedropping car models like it were a bodily function. She drives the latter to a nightclub (Tech-noir, perhaps?), where she meets Quint, and has...well, I won't spoil what happens next.

Eventually turning into a heist movie, a la Thief, the characters spend most of their time trying to figure out how to break into Ryland Towers. It's not exactly compelling stuff, but Tommy Lee Jones and Linda Hamilton are great as a couple of thieves who are tired stealing for others. If I had my way, I would have instructed Linda Hamilton to wear more skirts, added one more car chase involving the Wingho Concordia II (the car is not a factor for a huge chunk of the film's middle third), cast Jenette Goldstein as Bubba Smith's take no guff partner, and told Lalo Schifrin that I need to hear more synthesizers on the score.

Dudes (Penelope Spheeris, 1987)

Some might say the only genuine punk moment to take place in Penelope Spheeris' Dudes is when "Biscuit" asks "Hazekiah" (who's naming these people?) to sing "Holiday in Cambodia" by The Dead Kennedys when the latter tells his visibly annoyed audience that he does requests. Well, given the circumstances, you wouldn't expect a drunken old coot to know anything about The Dead Kennedys. And you would be right, he's not familiar with the song in question. However, I found this reference to punk rock to be a tad disingenuous. In fact, the second Biscuit mentions the song, I thought to myself: Oh yeah, these guys are supposed to be punks. The reason I forgot was because the soundtrack up until then had been nothing but Faster Pussycat, W.A.S.P. and Keel. Maybe sometime during filming Penelope Spheeris lost interest in punk rock and started get into heavy metal; after all, she would go on to make The Decline of Western Civilization Part II: The Metal Years soon after this film came out. It's also possible that the producers told Penelope to use heavy metal instead of punk, I don't know. But I do know the sight of three New York City punks driving through the desert in a beat up Volkswagen Bug to the sounds of Faster Pussycat is not punk. I don't care how adorable Brent Muscat is, and, believe me, he is adorable, punks don't usually go for hair metal. This is especially true for punks who spend their evenings stage diving at gigs that feature The Vandals, a punk band who appeared in Penelope Spheeris' seminal Suburbia (now that's a punk rock movie) and fighting over a salmon-gloved Pamela Gidley (Cherry 2000).

Quit your bellyaching, you sound like a freaking baby. Besides, this is one of them fish out of water thingies, so it makes perfect sense for the music to represent the opposite end of their cultural comfort zone. If that's the case, shouldn't the film be nothing but country and western songs? I mean, the film is basically a western. Good point. If I was forced to categorize this film, I would put it in the western section, as it contains all the ingredients that make up your typical western.

Still, I was disappointed by the lack of punk music in Dudes. That being said, I did take solace in the fact that Vance Colvig, Jr., the old drunk who doesn't know who The Dead Kennedys are, sings "Mexican Radio" by Wall of Voodoo at one point. Wait, did the punks request that song, too? Nope, he just starts singing it of his own volition. Awesome. Did he sing the line about eating barbequed iguana? Nah, just the "I'm on a Mexcican Ray-deeo / I'm on a Mexican whoa-oh ray-deeo" part. Nevertheless, it was a pretty cool moment. It also reminded me of that time when Kramer on Seinfeld sings "Mexican Radio" while installing a reverse peephole on his apartment door in the aptly titled episode, "The Reverse Peephole."

How can you complain about there not being enough punk in this movie when it opens to sight of Jon Cryer stage-diving to "Urban Struggle" at a Vandals concert? Yeah, I got to admit, it's quite the punk sight to behold. Bored with life in New York City, three punk rockers, Grant (Jon Cryer), Biscuit (Daniel Roebuck), and Milo (Flea) decide to move to Los Angeles. Whoa! Stop the presses. Bored with life in New York City?!? I'm sorry, but that doesn't make any sense. If you're bored in New York City, it's not the city's fault. What are you trying to say? What I'm saying is, you're probably the one who's boring. You know what? Forget about "probably," you're definitely the one who's boring.

Whether you agree with them or not, they're going to Los Angeles. Yeah, I get the whole "let's go to Los Angeles" angle, I'm a big fan of Los Angeles. It's just that they live in New York City. You know what I'm saying? Anyway, after getting in a fight with Pamela Gidley's musclebound boyfriend at a Chinese restaurant, the three punk rockers hangout in an alleyway to discuss their bleak futures. When Grant nearly falls to his death while jerking around on a pipe, those who were reluctant to sign on to Flea's idea to move to L.A. are quickly brought on board.

Hopping in their beat up VW Bug with a 1,000 dollars in cash, the punk trio hit the road to the strains of "Jesus Came Driving Along" by The Leather Nun. Now that I've had some time to think about it, I take back what I said earlier about Dudes not being punk enough. I mean, The Leather Nun song has a sort of goth punk vibe about. And not only that, Daniel Roebuck's mohawk is quite impressive when viewed in the harsh light of the open road. Believe or not, I had this strange idea in my head that it was a fake mohawk. You don't mean a faux hawk, do you? No, I wouldn't go that far. Either way, I grew to love it, no pun intended, as the film progressed.

Entering Utah (eww, that sounds kinda dirty), the punks help Daredelvis (Pete Willcox), an Elvis impersonator/renaissance man, whose trailer is stuck on the side of the road. The side of the road is also where Grant first sees Witherspoon (Cal Bartlett), his, as we'll soon find out, cowboy spirit guide.

While camping near a giant rock, Biscuit, named so because he loves dog biscuits, says the first thing he wants to do when he arrives in Los Angeles is to meet The Go-Go's. When Grant informs him that they split up, he remains defiant, declaring that he wants make babies with them. Now, that would be an amazing movie: A trio of NYC punks travel to L.A. to impregnate the members of The Go-Go's. If I had to pair Biscuit with a Go-Go, I would fix 'em with Gina Schock. Why? Oh, I don't know, he digs drummers, and she's into chubby guys who eat dog biscuits. Who cares? It would be a great movie.

You know who doesn't think it would make for a good movie? Lee Ving. You mean the singer from the band Fear? Yep, the very same. Playing a lowlife piece of human garbage named Missoula, Lee Ving and his unruly gang of thugs, including Wes (Glenn Withrow), attack the punk's camp and end up killing Flea in the process. No, not Flea! Who's going to impregnate Belinda Carlisle?

It's weird that you thought Flea and Belinda would... You know what? Never mind that. I guess Grant and Biscuit are going to have to continue onto L.A. without Flea.

Changing his mind mid-flee, Grant decides he wants to avenge Flea's death. Wanting no part of it, and no doubt still dreaming of ejaculating sperm inside Gina Schock, Biscuit refuses to go along with Grant's plan. That all changes, however, when Biscuit gets in touch with inner Native American while napping at Catherine Mary Stewart's house. It's at this point in the film when it starts to resemble an episode of The Lone Ranger, with Grant, helped by his cowboy spirit guide, as the titular lawman, and Biscuit, inspired by his tribal elders, as Tonto, his loyal sidekick. Of course, I've never seen an episode of The Lone Ranger, nor did I see the recent movie. But I'm sure it was something like this.

You probably noticed that I mentioned Catherine Mary Stewart in the above paragraph. Well, the reason I did this is because she is totally in this movie. She plays Jessie, a tomboyish tow truck driver who helps Grant and Biscuit with their Lee Ving problem.

Realizing that a rugged Catherine Mary Stewart isn't exactly going to drive teenage boys wild with desire (discerning teenage lesbians, on the other hand, will love C.M.S. in this flick), Penelope Spheeris calls upon her go-to babe Christina Beck (Suburbia) to play Lee Ving's floozy girlfriend in a brief yet pivotal scene that takes place in a Wyoming saloon.

Mixing the spirit of the wild west with punk and heavy metal might seem like a dicey combination, but Dudes is not about genre mashing, it's essentially about standing up for yourself, or more specifically, not allowing all the Lee Ving's out there to push you around. Getting reacquainted with their inner outlaws, Jon Cryer and Daniel Roebuck manage to grow a pair just in time for the climatic showdown with Lee Ving. Of course, at times it seemed like Jon Cryer and Daniel Roebuck were merely playing dress up. However, I thought they brought some unexpected pathos, along with some deft comedic touches, to their respective roles. Now, if I knew going in that the film would turn out to be a glorified western with a heavy metal soundtrack, I would have probably steered clear of Dudes. But now that I've watched it from start to finish, I can confidently say that it was a sort of worthwhile experience.