The Doom Generation (Gregg Araki, 1995)

For once I'd like to see a Skinny Puppy reference that is actually pertinent to the film being "discussed" on this site. Oh, really? And another thing, I'm getting tired of this, "Oooh, I liked Skinny Puppy in the '80s, I'm so cool," schtick of yours. All we want from you is for you to describe, in intricate detail, of course, the delicate smoothness of Soledad Miranda's thighs and that's pretty much it. We don't want to hear about how the killer in some bargain basement slasher flick reminded you of a super-obscure Skinny Puppy side project that you and maybe five other dweebs know about. Okay, you make some salient points. But what if I told you that the film I just watched features a cameo by the members of the actual group? Get out of here. No, it's true. They were in it. Well then, I guess you have no choice but to mention them. That's all I needed to hear. To the surprise of virtually no-one, Skinny Puppy make their acting debut, credited as "Skinny Puppy," in Gregg Araki's The Doom Generation, the rectal-obsessed road movie that defined a decade. Wait a second, I don't think this film necessarily defined any decade. If anything, it's anti-grunge, pro-Cocteau Twins stance was the complete opposite of what the decade in question eventually stood for. Yeah, I know. It's just that I've always wanted to attach that almost alliterative tag to something, and why not gently lick its festering bottom and stick it to this flick. Just in case you don't know what decade I'm referring to, I'm talking about the 1990s, the caustic puke stain of numerically labeled chunks of time. Oh, please. You loved the '90s. Whatever. Eat my fuck.
 

 

Oops! It looks like I let the "eat my fuck" out of the bag earlier than I originally intended. Well, since it's already running around inside your brain like a verbal typhoon, I might as well mention that, "eat my fuck," the infamous line uttered by Rose McGowan during the film's first, of many, convenience store scenes is probably one of my favourite expressions ever. While people were trying to figuring out how Donnie Darko would go about "sucking a fuck," Rose McGowan was telling folks to eat her fuck five years before any fucks would be sucked by anyone who was a real fuck-ass.
 

 

"Eat my fuck." It has a certain disorienting dignity about it. I can only imagine what a kind of damage a phrase like that might do to the psyche of the person unfortunate enough to be on the receiving end of such a perplexing remark. And make no mistake, it will flummox, hell, it may even discombobulate, those who hear it, especially those who haven't heard it before.
 

 

Nowadays, people use fuck in all sorts of different and creative ways. Why, just the other day while riding the subway, I heard a little girl call her mommy a "fucking fuckface fucker." Which she probably got from Brittany Murphy in Spun. But where did Spun get the courage to mix it up fuck-wise? You guessed it, they got it from Gregg Araki, a man who sees crass insults not as flavourless mush to be spread on the whitest bread sixty-six cents can buy, but as an opportunity to stretch his linguistic muscles.
 

 

Most writers view vulgarity through a narrow prism, Gregg Araki on the other hand approaches language with a playful zeal. Sure, it can come across as pompous at times, some might even say it sounds forced in places. But it's obvious, when you listen to the dialogue carefully, that a real effort has been made to make sure each word comes across as a unique ray of oral sunshine.
 

 

The film opens on Rose McGowan's gorgeous face bathed in red light as "Heresy" by Nine Inch Nails blasts over the sound system at some lame ass nightclub. Hey, why are you calling it "lame ass"? What are you kidding? I don't want to hear Nine Inch Nails. Okay, I'll tolerate "Sin," but I don't want to hear angst-ridden lyrics sung in a voice that hasn't been distorted. Anyway, Amy Blue, the name of Rose McGowan's character, agrees with me, and tells her mentally-challenged boyfriend, Jordan White (James Duval), that she would like to vacate the premises immediately. Only, she doesn't say it in such a calm and rational manner. In fact, nothing Amy does in this film could be construed as calm or rational.
 

 

I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that Gregg Araki is a huge Slowdive fan. Since my favourite Gregg Araki film, Nowhere, starts off with a Slowdive song, "Avalyn II," it only makes sense that he include "Alison" during Amy and Jordan's drive-in sex scene. Well, they sort of have sex. What I'm saying is, they don't fuck at all. In Jordan's defense (who currently feels like a gerbil smothering in Richard Gere's butt-hole), I would have been too distracted to have car seat intercourse with Rose McGowan as well. Oh my god! You better be making one helluva point, because what you're saying so far sounds downright stupid. Don't worry, it's not. Now, where was I? Oh, yeah. I couldn't focus on penetrating Rose McGowan's pussy because I would be too tempted to pet her bangs every time I attempted to mount her utilizing my primary thrusting platform. Just for record: my p.t.p. has been humping vaginas since the late 1960s. See, I told you. That wasn't stupid at all.  
 

 

"Wake up, cocksucker! Time to die!" Whoa, did Nivek Ogre from Skinny Puppy just quote Brion James from Blade Runner? Let me check. Holy crap. He did just quote Brion James from Blade Runner. Sure, he put a little mustard on it (Brion James doesn't say, "cocksucker"), but it's essentially the same line. Oh, and in case you're wondering why he said that: The members of Skinny Puppy assault Xavier Red (Jonathan Schaech), a cum-licking reprobate who will test the horizontal fortitude of Amy and Jordan's long term relationship (they have been together for three months). Finding refuge in Amy's car, Xavier escapes their murderous rage. Why did the members of Skinny Puppy want to kill Xavier? Well, as we'll soon find out, I doesn't take long for someone to get to the point where they want to do harm to Xavier's organic structure. What can I say? He brings out the worst in people.
 

 

If you thought Amy Blue was disagreeable before, you should see her when she's has X breathing down her neck. Oh, and he's now called "X." Why? Um, let's just say Jordan found the name "Xavier" to be way too complicated from a letter arrangement point-of-view. After making one too many crude references to her genitals, Amy kicks X out of the car.
 

 

Hearing her girlfriend's birth canal called practically everything listed in the Big Book of Cunt Euphemisms has made Jordan a tad peckish. In order to alleviate this peckishness, Jordan suggests they head to the nearest Quickiemart for some grub. It's at this point in the film when all your taint hairs should be standing at attention. Why's that? What do you mean, "why's that"? Isn't it obvious? Rose McGowan is about to say, "Eat my fuck."
 

 

Told by the Quickiemart clerk, Nguyen Suk Kok (Dustin Nguyen), that there's no smoking allowed in his store, Amy obliges and throws her cigarette on the floor and extinguishes it with one of her black Doc Marten-adorned feet. When the clerk insists that she put the improperly discarded butt in the trash, Amy, without hesitation, tells him to, "Eat my fuck." I get teary-eyed just thinking about it. It's probably one of the most inspirational moments in the history of cinema. Forget about, "Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn" or "Here's looking at you, kid." "Eat my fuck." is the greatest movie quote of all-time.
 

 

When Jordan and Amy discover they don't have the 6.66 to pay for his disgusting hot dogs and slush-based beverage, Nguyen Suk Kok pulls out a shotgun and points it at them. Don't worry, X shows up just in the nick of time and blows Nguyen's head off; much to chagrin of Mrs. Suk Kok, played by Margaret Cho. After that act of violence, The Doom Generation morphs into a kind of demented road movie, where X, Amy and Jordan become fugitives. Well, sort of.  There's not much of a police presence in this movie. But their violent antics, or, I should say, X's violent antics (Amy and Jordan don't actually do anything wrong) do make the evening news; anchored by Lauren Tewes and Christopher Knight.
 

 

Hopping from one cheap motel to another (cheap, they may be, but the interior design of each room is stunning), and consuming a lot of bad food, X, Amy and Jordan fuck, kill and eat their way across America.
 

 

My favourite encounters during their cross country journey being their confrontations with Amy's ex-boyfriend, a Carnoburger cashier played by Nicky Katt, and Brandi (Parker Posey), Amy's secret lesbian lover. The highlight of the confrontation with Nicky Katt, besides his Devo-inspired Carnoburger uniform, was when Nicky says the line, "My pearly dewdrops drops." Now, I don't know if Nicky Katt knew where that line originally came from. But the fact that characters in this movie use the names of Cocteau Twins songs as dialogue is pretty awesome.
 

 

Besides John Hughes, are there any other filmmakers out there who come close to touching Gregg Araki when it comes to music? I don't think so. And I'm not just saying that because his obsession with industrial music and shoegazer bands of the early '90s eerily reflected my taste at the time. Okay, maybe I am. So what? You still can't deny that his music choices add a lot of unexpected appeal to his movies. In addition to that, I also like the fact that he prefers to include remixed or extended versions of the songs he uses.
 

 

The act of heading downtown to buy, oh, let's say, the latest Nitzer Ebb 12 inch, is something that I miss greatly. And The Doom Generation, strangely enough, manages to capture that sense of loss perfectly. Watch closely, as you can see it in the face of Rose McGowan as she stares longingly at "1983–1991," the This Mortal Coil box set, during a stop at a record store.
 

 

When Rose says, "I miss my records," I nodded slightly in agreement. In fact, I agreed so much, that after the film was over, I went and spent some quality time with my records. Sure, I have nothing to play them on, but I nestled each one gently against my bosom.
 

 

Just when you thought this film couldn't get any more relatable, Jordan tells X all about that time they lost his mom's car while attending a Thrill Kill Kult concert. It's true, I didn't lose a car at the Thrill Kill Kult concert I attended way back when. But I do remember the band being four hours late, and that my shoes (creepers with skull buckles) were killing my feet. Didn't you have some shoe issues at that late '90s Sisters of Mercy show? Hey, you remember that. Cool. Yeah, I always seem to experience shoe problems whenever I go to concerts. You try to look your best, and what happens? You either end up standing there for hours on end (my shoes weren't designed for standing) or some guy would step on them (I'm looking you, white guy with dreadlocks at the Spooky-era Lush concert).
 

 

Anyway, enough of my jibber jabbing. Just like Nowhere, I seemed to enjoy The Doom Generation more the second time around. I don't know, the reoccurring 6.66 gag didn't seem as lame, the belt buckle scene was adorable (Jordan "tards out" over X's holographic rodeo themed belt buckle), the Heidi Fleiss cameo was better than expected (she says "6.66" the best - half asleep with an air malice), the sex scene between Rose McGowan (whose skin is immaculate in this film) and James Duval (who was at the height of his cluelessness) set to "On" by The Aphex Twin was hotter than I initially remembered. Oh, and, of course, "Eat my fuck" will never lose its appeal.

Jawbreaker (Darren Stein, 1999)

Question: When you were in high school, did any of the girls wear stockings with seams? Personally, I can't remember anyone who wore stockings at all, let alone ones with seams. Such is one of the many interesting stylistic conundrums that flooded my psyche as I gazed upon the super sheer glow of Jawbreaker (a.k.a. Der Zuckersüße Tod), a dark, yet optically soothing film about candy-based manslaughter and the pressures that come with trying to fit in at a cruel collegiate institute. The teens that populate this hyper-colourful adolescent world all looked as if they were pushing thirty. I mean, they didn't look "too old" in the classic sense, they just looked overly sophisticated; hence, the seams. However, it seemed to go beyond archaic stocking design. In that, the confidence the main characters projected had an almost regal air. This royal smell is most prominently on display when the catty foursome find themselves walking down the hall in slow motion to the strains of Imperial Teen. Opening with the semi-accidental killing of the benevolent member of a cocksure clique of chichi seniors, Jawbreaker manages to out Heather Heathers with its morbid commencement: Three girls plan on celebrating their friends birthday by pretending to kidnap her and doing all sorts of prankish deeds to her lively organic structure. Unfortunately, things go terribly wrong from the get-go, when an ill-conceived gagging technique goes awry and their angelic friend ends up asphyxiating on a golf ball-size ball of dissolving candy (a.k.a. a jawbreaker or gobstopper).

The alpha female of the group immediately takes control of the unique situation and all seems to be going "peachy fucking keen" (a weak yet plausible cover-up is already in the works).

Then Fern Mayo shows up.

Now, the film's tone is pretty toxic up until this point; thus, my comparison to the Daniel Waters penned classic. However, things don't stay so dark for long. Oh, don't get me wrong, it's got lot's of bite here and there. It's just that it softens a tad after the body is hauled away.

What I did enjoy this time around was the unspecific approach to when the film actually takes place. The moderately-sized cell phones, some of the music, and references to cyberspace put it taking place squarely in the late 1990s. But everything else had an indistinct quality about it that kept me guessing. For example, they use of an old style diner, the drive-in theatre, the Connie Francis ditty, and the car the hunky hero (Chad Christ) drove all screamed 1955.

Unclear periods of time are great and stuff, but what keeps coming back to Jawbreaker again and again is the opportunity to bask in the coordinated attractiveness of Rebecca Gayheart, Rose McGowan, Judy Greer, and Julie Benz. I mention Julie last because her Marcie Fox fails to exhibit any individuality (she's a sycophant of the worst kind). Though, I should say, Miss Benz does garner two or three hardy laughs.

The always amazing Judy Greer gets to play two characters: The socially awkward Fern Mayo and the instantly popular Vylette. The chance to go from grungy earth-tones to gaudy pinks must have been a joy for Miss Greer. And, for some strange reason, the way she towers over McGowan and Benz during the slo-mo walking sequences always cracks me up.

The statuesque Judy narrates the film's prologue and to hear one of favourite actresses call another one of my favourite actresses "the leggy one" was the kind of treat only I could extract pleasure from. The actress denoted as leggy was the fabulous Rebecca Gayheart, who gives a measured performance as Julie Freeman, the films conscious. I never noticed this before but I was quite impressed by the physical dominance she had over the other ladies. Check out her proficiency during the film's many walking scenes for proof of this control.

The high school equivalent of a genocidal madwoman, Rose McGowan is a force of nature as Courtenay Shayne. Immoral, unscrupulous, mean-spirited, and a tad kinky, the shapely actress is gorgeously evil from start to finish. Boasting not a single redeeming quality, I loved the pure nastiness of character. Plus, I can't imagine any school allowing someone that sexy to walk halls of their installation. An impotent principal (the always appealing Carol Kane) tries to curb Courtnay's sexiness by asking her to button up her blouse, but such actions are rendered futile when looked at from a distance. Seriously, you can see her delicious curves from space.

Anyway, I truly believe, if given the chance, that Rose's character would kill a million people if, say, there was some sort of lip gloss theft or an incident involving a broken heel. Yep, she's that depraved.

The legendary Pam Grier, Riff Randell herself P.J. Soles, Ann Russo (credited as Ann Zupa), Marilyn Manson, Jeff Conaway (as Marcie's dad), Lisa Robin Kelly (Laurie from That 70's Show), The Donnas and the tastily stemmed Tatyana Ali all make brief appearances throughout the film, but they're not in it enough to justify any sort of long-winded spiel.

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Nowhere (Gregg Araki, 1997)

A film that helped me make the lopsided transition from pretending to like bland, competent films to repeatedly landing nose first in the bosomy cleavage of cinematic trash. In other words, the sex and violence filled wonderland that I have always been destined to wallow in. Nowhere is a film that I resisted at first (I dissented so hard, I felt ill afterward), but have since learned to appreciate its aimless narrative, nihilistic overtones, and scattershot view of adolescent humanity. Call it masochistic, call it an act of celluloid-based attrition, but I forced myself not only to like Gregg Araki's ode to the rudderless youth of the mid-to-late '90s, but to love the living secretion out of it. Each time I begrudgingly sat down to watch it, I'd come away more enriched than you could imagine. It's like I'm infected with a disease, except instead of abstaining from the causation, I would bathe my eyes in its abhorrent life force, get swept in the sheer ridiculousness of it all, and find myself quoting the swollen-headed characters' adroit put downs and their hyperbolic proclamations of love like a mindless fiend. Yeah, I guess some of the dialogue was overly clever at times, but I'd rather something be clever than be whatever the opposite of clever is.

Besides, I love it when women (and men) refer to each others genitalia using saucy, unorthodox language.

Now normally, this is where I'd pretend the story was too labyrinthian for my puny brain to handle. But in the case of Nowhere, there's hardly anything for me to grasp at in order to falsify a compelling yarn. And I think that was Araki's intention. The best way to represent teen angst gone awry is to strip away all pretense and present the characters in the most raw manner possible. Sure, the alien subplot flies in the face of this minimalist attitude, but the words "alien" and "alienation" don't just sound similar and share some of the same letters, they represent an all-embracing bumptiousness that shapes the idiosyncratic young people that populate this die now, live later culture.

In reality, the film is about a bunch of drug addicts, part-time high school students, musicians, and amateur filmmakers who plan on congregating at a party being thrown by a fella named Jujyfruit (Gibby Haynes). Until then, some pass the time by eavesdropping on a trio of valley chicks waiting for a bus (a totally awesome cameo by Traci Lords, Shannen Doherty, and Rose McGowan) and exchanging pleasantries with deceptively genial teen idols from Tasmania. While others engage in femdom activities that involve spanking, crotches slathered in chocolate, and rough coitus where the words "Mommy" and "Daddy" are not used as safe words.

The cast is so enormous in scope, that it takes the entirety of Slowdive's "Avalyn II" just to list the principle players. So, I'll just focus on a fistful of the many fleshy parts that are sprinkled throughout this film. The main pairing (most of the "plots" are told via pairs) are Dark and Mel (James Duvall and Rachel True). The two begin to drift apart when fellow young person, Montgomery (Nathan Bexton), starts to show up in Dark's spank bank, the budding Clive Barker usually has Mel and dominatrixes Kriss and Kozy (Chiara Mastroianni and Debi Mazar) deposited in there. Mel, on the other hand, is spending an awfully lot of time with Lucifer (Kathleen Robertson), a feisty lesbian who utters the films tastiest insults. Plus, her reaction to a skinheaded partygoer that asks if he can "jizz on her face" was pretty sweet.

This little nugget of plot may drive the film forward, but it is by no means the most interesting of the lot. For example, the one where Shad (Ryan Phillippe) and Lilith (Heather Graham), a couple of death-obsessed sex addicts, are seen constantly mock eating each others faces has its moments. As do the underage adventures of Zoe (Mena Suvari) and Joshua Gibran Mayweather's Zero, and the drug addiction bit with Cowboy (Guillermo Díaz) and Bart (Jeremy Jordan) caused me to feel somewhat sad.

However, it was the brief encounters between Christina Applegate's Dingbat and Scott Caan's Ducky that proved most interesting. I don't know, but there's something fascinating about the way Miss Applegate plays Dingbat. Maybe it's the braces and the funky kitty-cat t-shirt, or maybe it was the clueless expression she is constantly wearing on her face. Well, whatever it is, she made my spirit soar. A rare occurrence in a film that features a man killing another man with a can of tomato soup.

The Nowhere soundtrack is one the best and most eclectic of the decade. Writer-director Gregg Araki, no doubt mining the contents of his own personal record collection, fills the air with wide array of alternative music styles. Everything from industrial dance (Coil, My Life with the Thrill Kill Kult, Nitzer Ebb, Nine Inch Nails - a cover of Soft Cell's "Memorabillia") to old school shoegazer (Lush, Mojave 3, Seefeel) and Brit Pop (Suede, Elastica, Blur) is featured in this movie. Hell, even freaking Stacey Q manages to make her way into the mix.

Oh, and I like how even though the film is set in 1997, Araki somehow manages to make it seem like grunge rock never happened.

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