“I don’t think you have anything to be worried about, Drake. This isn’t the first time a woman’s threatened you. Remember that Playmate of the Year who was after you?”
“Claudia. How could I forget?”
“Nothing ever came of that, right?”
“She died in a car crash.”
“Oh, yeah, right. You…uh…didn’t have anything to do with that, did you?”
“No. I figured you did it.”
“Huh. I don’t think so, but then I was doing a lot of drugs back then.”
“It happened six months ago.”
“Wait? Did you say ‘Claudia’?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh, yeah, that was totally me.”
1. Google the clues and you'll be able to figure out--down to the month--when this story is taking place.
Because absolutely no one asked for it, I've decided to post the occasional vlog review every now and then. I enjoy making them, even if it's clear no one enjoys watching them. Actually the main reason I threw this one together is because I wanted to test out the 1080p capabilities of my new iPhone 4S. As you can see I clearly need to work out the lighting issues. That said, this was by far the quickest vlog I've ever produced. It only took three and a half hours from the time I got the idea of doing it to having it available on YouTube. First person to comment, "Where did all of that time go?" will make me very, very sad.
(Note: It's late and I'm tired, so I've chosen not to proofread the following post. Please consider any mistakes you might find to be deliberate "Easter Eggs" I left specifically for your amusement)
They don't make TV movies like they used to. Now, that's not me speaking out of any sense of misplaced nostalgia, it's literally true--they DO NOT make TV movies like they did when I was young. That is to say they pretty much don't make them much at all. Beyond the occasional Hallmark Hall of Fame presentation, the Big 3 networks have all but abandoned the format in favour of much cheaper reality show programming. This marks a huge change from back when you could count on one or two debuting each week. And, no cable doesn't count. If you can include all of the same shit that you can see in a theater, it isn't a TV movie, it's a movie that premiered on TV. Huge difference. Don't be stupid and make me explain it to you.
When people think about the TV movies of old, they usually remember the soapy, message pictures that seemed to dominate the format. But any B-Movie fan can tell you that many great genre films debuted on the small screen. This continuing feature is dedicated to briefly looking at some classic examples of films that were too big for TV, but way too small for anywhere else.
We begin our examination with a cheesy classic that plays like the redheaded bastard stepchild of the already somewhat disreputable Airport series. I wouldn't be at all surprised if it had originally been written to serve as the fifth film in the series, following The Concorde... Airport '79 (in fact, it was actually released in the Philippines as Airport '85). All of the elements are there--a collection of c-list performers, gratuitous melodrama, and the kind of potential disaster only a ton of drugs could help conceive. It's the kind of film whose utter disregard for anything approaching verisimilitude is so vehement you get the sense that the filmmakers would happily kick you in the nuts if they could, because by that point there's clearly nothing holding them back. Yet, I found this more charming than frustrating--a classic example of imagination refusing to bow down to the petty bullshit of reality. And, believe me, this film bows down to no reality you know.
I am, of course, talking about:
Despite the claims of the above poster, the film originally aired on television in 1983 with the title Starflight: The Plane That Couldn't Land and it was directed by TV movie vet Jerry Jameson, who--wouldn't you know it--just happened to also make a little film called Airport '77.
Coincidence?
Jameson was also responsible for the mega-bomb Raise the Titanic, so it's amazing he managed to find any work at all, much less directing TV movies like Starflight. Suffice it to say, the budget of the two films bear absolutely no relation to the other.
Like a lot of Jameson's 80s TV work, Starflight stars Lee Majors, which is awesome. He plays a pilot, which is also awesome. He's also banging single mom publicist Lauren Hutten, which would be gap-toothed awesome, were it not for the fact that he's married to someone else, which makes it adulterously awesome.
The reason Majors and Hutton know each other is because he's the pilot of the groundbreaking flight she's publicizing. The Starflight is a revolutionary hypersonic passenger plane that goes up so far into the atmosphere it can travel to Australia in just over one hour. It's so revolutionary that its creator, Hal Linden, is pretty sure the flight is going to end in disaster. Turns out, he's right!
Actually, the flight would've gone fine, were it not for the desperate actions of sleazy businessman Terry Kiser. Flying to Australia for the launch of the satellite he funded, he's devastated by the news that the launch is going to be postponed, as it will ruin him financially. Consequences be damned, he orders that the rocket be launched anyway. His Australian crony reluctantly agrees, but then blows up the rocket midway through its flight. The resulting debris damages Starflight and forces it to gain even more altititude than it already had. The shocking result is that the plane completely leaves Earth's atmosphere and enters the cold, black darkness of space!
The rest of the film is then naturally devoted to the safe return of most of the passengers (you'll be shocked to learn that Kiser doesn't survive the trip), which is mostly accommodated by a space shuttle that travels to and from Earth with the 15-minute frequency of a public bus.
During this long stretch of film there are moments of genuine tension and excitement (Linden is transported from Starflight to the shuttle via a casket), pure unintended hilarity (the expense of constantly shooting everyone as being weightless is taken care of by the stewardesses rolling out a length of rope for the passengers and crew to hold on as they walk across the plane), and classic disaster movie irony (the airplane mechanic who has to go out into space to repair the plane is afraid of flying!).
Even someone as incapable of giving a flying fuck about science as myself will not be able to ignore the constant barrage of implausibilities. If Starflight can't get back to Earth without blowing up in the blazing furnace of the planet's atmosphere, how the hell did it make it past that same atmosphere to get into space in the first place? How is it that the space shuttle is able to touch down right where it needs to be, every single time, at least half a dozen times in one day? Doesn't Earth's orbit make that impossible? Who's paying for all the fuel required for all these fucking launches? Are these 50+ passengers really worthy an investment that even in 1982 had to be in the high millions, if not billions? Why would Lauren Hutton take her 12 year-old daughter on the maiden flight of an unproven aeronautical innovation that was obviously doomed to failure? Okay, so except for that one expensive scene, we don't see anyone weighless because they're wearing their seatbelts and holding the aisle rope--how come their hats and ties aren't floating around?
I could go on, but won't. Starflight doesn't need to justify its vast array of bullshit. It's a silly TV movie! And that's why we love them. Let the "real" movies worry about such undramatic, story-stopping foolishness like science. Starflight is grounded in its own reality--the B-TV Bullsh*t Zone.
At the moment of her greatest triumph, Louise Fletcher delivered a funny, well-prepared speech that ended with a moving tribute to her deaf parents, which she delivered in sign language. You can watch it here, and if you’re anything like me there’s a good chance it will cause a mighty lump to rise in your throat.
But not everyone was as moved by her speech as I was just now. As she headed backstage, Robert Altman—who she considered a friend and who helped resurrect her career a year earlier in Thieves Like Us—was spotted laughing as he cruelly mimicked her sign language gestures.
But Altman’s assholish behaviour wasn’t completely random—he was pissed off at her because he had based the role of a gospel singer with two deaf children who has an affair with a womanizing folk singer in Nashville on Fletcher and her experience as the daughter of deaf parents. Those of you who remember that film know that Lily Tomlin eventually received an Academy Award nomination for the part. The reason Fletcher didn’t play the role—and the reason why Altman felt compelled to act like such a prick that night she won her Oscar—was because she had been offered the role of Nurse Ratched in One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, which was scheduled to shoot at the same time. She picked the right one and Altman never forgave her for it—they never worked together again.
I mention this because it’s a classic example of how very few victories aren’t at least a little bit bittersweet. Even one as close to a fairy tale as Fletcher’s—which saw her spend five years toiling in early 60s television obscurity, before giving up on acting completely for 10 years, and then winning the Oscar 2 years after she returned to the profession. It’s a great story, but not necessarily one with a happily ever after ending.
Following her win, Fletcher signed on to costar in the much-anticipated sequel to one of the most successful films of all time. For a 43 year-old actress who just a few years earlier had been completely out of the industry, this was an amazing development. But fate had something else in mind, because that film turned out to be The Exorcist II: The Heretic—a film so despised upon its release at least one poll at the time suggested it was the second worst film ever made, behind only Plan 9 From Outer Space. (It turns out everyone in the world except me is wrong about this. The Heretic is awesome; it’s the first movie that sucks).
Lacking the glamour that might extend the career of another aging actress, Fletcher never got the chance given to most Oscar winners to star in at least one major Hollywood film. Instead she went on to a career on TV and in B-Movies—some good, a lot bad. B-Movies gave her the chance to play the title role in Mama Dracula, but it turned out that probably wasn’t a good thing.
But things wouldn’t get overly dire until 1987, when she suffered the one-two punch of Grizzly II: The Concert and the subject of today’s post, which takes the prize for the lowest moment of her career mostly because Grizzly II was never finished or officially released. Like One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, today’s subject was a literary adaptation, based on a 1979 book written by an author so popular that her heirs chose to hire a ghostwriter to continue writing books under her name after her death in 1986. It’s a gothic tale of familial secrets, cruelty, and incest, starring The Cute Girl with the Robot Brain and Steve Martin’s future ex-wife, and it’s really, really terrible.
I am, of course, talking about:
I’ve never read any entries in the “V.C. Andrews” canon, so I cannot honestly spend any time discussing her contribution to literature. Speaking dishonestly, I know she sucks because the only people I’ve ever seen read her books are…well…I can’t go there without seeming like a snobby asshole, can I?
Still, Flowers in the Attic is such a disaster as a movie it’s hard not to assume that its deepest flaws emanate directly from the source material. For those unfamiliar with either version, I’ll do you the favour of completely spoiling the experience so you need not suffer either.
Kristy Swanson plays Cathy, the eldest daughter of the four blond-haired Dollanganger children. She’s sad because her dad has died and left the family broke and homeless. Their only hope for survival is to move in with her wealthy grandparents, who so disapproved of her parents’ marriage they cut off all contact with them. Olivia (Fletcher) is still so pissed off by what Cathy’s mom (Victoria Tennent) did she insists that the Dollanganger children will not be allowed to roam freely in her home, but will instead spend all of their time silently locked away in their room.
It’s a terrible bargain, but Mrs. Dollanganger it seems has few options. When she does threaten to take the children away from the house, Olivia just laughs and tells her to go ahead. She then whips her to show her who’s boss. The kids' world expands a little when they find a door in their room that leads to the attic, where they entertain themselves with old clothes and toys. Without anyone else to pay attention to Cathy and her brother Chris become closer than siblings probably should be. Then they all start getting sick, and Cory, the youngest boy, dies.
Turns out the reason Olivia is so intent on hiding the kids is because her husband has no idea they exist. Their existence was kept from him because Cathy’s mom and dad were actually brother and sister.
To make matters even creepier, Cathy’s mom is trying to get into her parents’ good books by marrying a suitor who doesn’t share the exact same biological lineage, but he doesn’t know she has kids, which is why she’s been poisoning their food.
It all comes to a head when the three surviving Dollanganger kids escape, crash their mom’s wedding and confront her for her crimes against them. Cathy tries to force her mom to eat one of the poisoned cookies, which leads to a moment of such incompetent cinematic hilarity my words cannot do it justice:
Flowers in the Attic is so overwrought, laughable, and just plain wrong that it seems doomed from its very conception. Perhaps a more talented filmmaker than the man who gave us Blood Beach might have been able to do a better job, but that’s pure speculation. What we do have is a film that fails on every level, with one of the worst performances given by the sole Oscar winner in its cast. As Olivia, the sadistic grandmother, it’s hard not to see and hear Nurse Ratched in her every utterance and gesture. Only this time, she’s awful. It truly is a testament to the power the screenplay, director and editor have in shaping a performance. Is it possible that somewhere there is footage from Cuckoo’s Nest where she is just as horrible as she is here? Probably not, but it does prove that a lot more goes into an Oscar-winning performance than the work of the one actor.
Following Flowers in the Attic, Fletcher’s career has consisted of bit roles in movies and guest turns on TV. All in all, hers has been a decent career, but not one anyone seems interested in invigorating or giving a great final act.
Speaking of final acts, next week we take a look at a fine actress whose last years were spent making some pretty terrible movies.
“Well, what can I say about Stevie Schmendrick? He had a funny last name that’s for sure. I always used to think he made it up as some stupid joke, but then one night I was real drunk and I needed his wallet to pay my bar tab and I took out his I.D. and I’ll be fucked if that wasn’t his actual name. He must’ve been a Jew. We didn’t talk about religion much. ‘Cept when we was in the ambulance, of course. Then he wouldn’t shut up about it. Luckily he didn’t talk about it for too long....”
It's pretty safe to say that Wes Craven got royally screwed. Back in 1984 he made a film that impacted the horror genre and Halloween forever, giving us Freddy Krueger--a monster as significant as any created during the golden years of Universal Films. His reward for his triumph? Producer Robert Shaye refused to pay him more money to do the sequel and kept every penny of Krueger's lucrative licensing deals. The chance to work on the sequel for Dream Warriors must have proven cold comfort, because in 1989 Craven attempted to catch lighting in a bottle one more time with a character he hoped would become just as popular as his "Bastard Son of 1000 Maniacs".
If Freddy's gimmick was his ability to enter his victims' dreams and kill them with their own worst nightmares, than this character too would not be bound to the mortal realm. He would not be a man, but a living energy capable of possessing the mind and body of anyone he contacted, including adorable little girls. If Freddy could be anything in our unconscious world, than he could be anyone in our everyday reality.
It should have worked
It really, really didn't.
I am, of course, talking about:
Horace Pinker
A serial killer who is turned into an electrical phantom due to a combination of black magic and the electric chair, Horace Pinker ranks among the most disappointing of wannabe franchise characters. The problem is simple, unlike Freddy Krueger, who's a scarred monster in a classy fedora with big scary metal claws, Horace is the dude from The X-Files in an orange prison jumpsuit. It's just not even remotely the same.
It might help if Shocker were a better movie, but its inconsistent tone and sense of desperation sink it without a trace. Aiming for horror comedy, Craven crafted a film that is never scary or funny. When you do feel the impulse to laugh it's genuinely hard to tell if you're doing so with the movie or at it.
Still, of all the potential costumes discussed thus far here at Vanity Fear, I believe Pinker is probably the one most people are going to be able to guess without explanation. Shocker may have sucked, but a lot of people saw it on home video in the late 80s and early 90s. Plus the name on the jumpsuit is a pretty big clue.
Let's take a look at the scores:
Difficulty to Create: 5/10 An orange prison jumpsuit shouldn't be too difficult to find. The only question is, do you shave your head or go with a bald cap instead?
Obscurity: 3/10 Like I said, as terrible as the movie is, a lot of people saw it back in the day.
Fun Factor: 1/10 I just don't see being Mitch Pileggi for a day as a rollicking good time.
Potential "Sexy" Version: 4/10 Unbutton the jumpsuit to reveal some serious cleavage and change the name to Hortense Pinker and it could work.
Might Be Confused With: Lex Luthor.
Total Score: 2/10 Dude, it's fucking Horace Pinker. Lame.
You know him as Sheriff Roscoe P. Coltrane from The Dukes of Hazzard, but before that James Best had a long career filled with the highest of highs (Shock Corridor) and the lowest of lows (see below). You can learn more from the man himself in a Flick Attack interview I contributed to earlier this year. Having gone over his body of work, I have tremendous admiration for the man and have chosen to pick on him in this manner only because no one would know what I was talking about if I did The Five Best David Wurst Movies instead (he's a composer who has worked on a bunch of Corman movies, including the never released version of The Fantastic Four).
1. The Killer Shrews (1959)
Remembered today thanks to a classic episode of MST3K (enough so that a very belated sequel is apparently on the way), this no-budget B&W indie stars Best as a boat captain trapped on a island terrorized by poor dogs stuck in ridiculous shrew costumes. What is a shrew anyway? If only I currently had access to a vast pool of information from which I could divine an answer. Despite the MST3Ker's best efforts, Shrews is still a struggle to get through due to its glacial pace. Better to stick with Night of the Lepus for your ludicrous animal attack movie enjoyment.
2. Nickelodeon (1976)
In his Flick Attack interview, Best admitted to not liking director Peter Bogdonovich. After sitting through this laboured ode to cinema's earliest days I can't say that I blame him. Give me At Long Last Love any day of the week.
3. Hooper (1978)
According to Best, he helped write this late 70s ode to the Hollywood stuntman, but all of the blame for its suckitude still has to go to director Hal Needham. He obviously considered the film to be something of an autobiography, which goes to prove what an asshole he really is.
4. Sounder (1972)
Based on everything I've heard, this is actually an excellent movie. I've never seen it. I really shouldn't have said this list would be five movies long.
5. The Dukes of Hazzard: Hazzard in Hollywood (2000)
I don't really remember this TV movie, but old Daisy made me sad.
I'm sorry, I really have to think before I do one of these.
Our October investigation into horror movie themed Halloween costumes that don't immediately come to mind continues with another costume for the ladies that I suspect would prove to be immediately popular, but not because everyone loves the movie it's based on.
Three years after "directing" Poltergeist (sarcastic quotation marks used 'cuz Spielberg totally directed that shit), Tobe Hooper finally returned to the silver screen with his biggest budgeted movie yet. Made for $25,000,000 back when that was a number that meant something, Lifeforce was Cannon Films' attempt to create an epic SF horror franchise. The attempt failed, however, and--following the similarly disastrous Invaders From Mars--Hooper's career never really recovered. Still, as resolutely forgettable as the movie is (I've seen it at least twice now and am in no way prepared to offer up even the most cursory of plot synopses), there is one character in the film who managed to make their mark on horror history and become something of an icon.
I am, of course, talking about:
Space Girl
Unfortunately, society being what it is, propriety prevents me from showing the costume in every detail. Those of you at home or who work in highly liberal office environments can get a better idea by clicking the picture, otherwise consider the enlarged version NSFW. Now, for those you who haven't seen Lifeforce and who might question the legitimacy of such a costume, let me ease your concerns by saying that this is what actress Mathilda May wears throughout the entire film. And her role as Space Girl gives her fifth billing above Patrick Stewart, so she's definitely not a one-scene wonder.
That said, it's hard to say what exactly makes Space Girl such a memorable character. Is it because she's a naked 19 year-old girl or is it because she's a naked 19 year-old Mathilda May--which isn't quite the same thing, because how many 19 year-old girls do you know who look like that? (If your answer is, "At least one," then why are you reading this and not praying to the deity of your choosing?)
Still, I suspect in an age where attractive 20-something women make Halloween memorable by dressing as "sexy" versions of Sesame Street characters, there are more than enough trick or treaters out there to pull this one off. But before we get too giddy, let's check the scores first:
Difficulty to Create: This one depends entirely on the person for whom the outfit is intended. If you're a naturally busty brunette Parisian teenage model it's a 0/10. If you're me 1,000,000,000/10.
Obscurity: Again, doesn't matter. No one is gonna give a hot flying fuck about who you're dressed as.
Fun Factor: 10/10 You are going to be the life of the party, there is not a single doubt about that.
Potential "Sexy" Version: Ha!
Might Be Confused With: Phoebe Cates in Fast Times At Ridgemont High.
Total Score: Impossible to calculate. As a movie themed costume, it's likely not going to register, but as a general costume the right person could easily make their event THE SINGLE GREATEST HALLOWEEN PARTY OF ALL TIME.
Monday, October 24, 2011 at 6:00AM 
