Weird Science

Let's go all the way to those science filled mystical days of 1985. When John Hughes still made movies and Anthony Michael Hall still starred in them.

The film starts off with Anthony Michael Hall and co-star Ilan Mitchell-Smith perving on a high school girls gymnastics team, before getting wedgied by an insanely young Robert Downey JR.

You'll probably remember Ilan Mitchel-Smith from the other things he went on to do. Such as The Chocolate War, Journey to the Centre of the Earth and now as a professor of English in Texas (oh, that's pretty cool, good for him! Better than fading away in never successful casting calls). Okay, well maybe you won't remember him. Shame, he has a good screen presence and is probably a better actor than Hall.

The two actors play perpetual geeks. Horribly hormonal teen geeky nerds, at that. So late one night, after being inspired by an old Frankenstein flick, they decide to create a simulation on their computer of the perfect woman. To ramp up the computers power they insert 9-inch floppies, hack U.S. Military computers (just think what Matthew Broderick's War Games could have been like if they had just taken this next obvious step... well it would have been just like this really...) and scan in magazine ads of pretty girls who are all Kelly LeBrock. They then do what's only normal after all of this. They tie a car battery to a Barbie doll (re-shaped to look like Kelly LeBrock) and hook that up to the computer as well. Then putting bras on their heads they chant a little. Just at that time the sky above their house goes blood red and starts shooting down bolts of lightening.

Then in the sleepy town of Shermer, Illinois ('One of America's Towns' is it slogan) – the fictitious setting for all of Hughes films – things go wild. Kitchen appliances blow-up, manhole covers explode and saint bernards sit on the ceiling and bark at their owners. The boys panic. But can't turn off the computer. Even swinging a baseball bat only causes the bat to shatter. All of which creates the living, breathing, chest-heaving and pouting Kelly LeBrock into existence.

Which all sounds a bit too far fetched, I know. But you've got to understand, this was 1985, computers were a lot more powerful back then. None of this works with today's lame-arsed modern computers – no, not even with Macs – I've tried.

LeBrock is like a big magical sexy Mary Poppins, who can do anything. Magic-up cars, clothes, motorcycle riding inbred mutant Nazis – you name it. And teaches the young lads confidence while getting them, into crazy mixed-up hi-jinx. Luckily the 'be honest and be yourself' plot is easy enough to ignore. After that the movie pretty much writes itself. We get, evil bully militaristic older brother (played by Bill Paxton) who gets his comeuppance. Lessons in kissing. Masturbation jokes. Literal toilet humour. Car chase. Visiting grandparents being shocked at youthful exuberance – take that establishment!

The film isn't much more than a prolonged teen boy fantasy, and it's to its credit that it doesn't try to be anything more. It hasn't aged well. It's froth. It's dumb. But it's fun dumb froth. And with the smooth direction of Hughes it keeps running well under it's own energy – though the mutant bikers scene could be a bit shorter. And now with all the 80s loveliness the film's even better. All set to the pseudonymous title track by Oingo Boingo, (other music by Wall of Voodoo, Van Halen and Los Lobos) how could you not find a little warmth in your heart for this film?

Great quotes: “So what would you little maniacs like to do first?”, “He pukes, you die!”, “You two donkey-dicks couldn't get laid in a morgue”, “If you're going to float an air biscuit, let me know, okay?”, “You should know better than to walk into somebody's house and start hitting people with your Rex Harrison hat”.

Great 80s bits: Popcorn makers. Women's underwear that looks like guy's underwear now. Robert Downey Jr dressed like a back-up singer for Boy George – it's the upturned shirt and jacket over Bermuda shorts that does it. Big hair! Fingerless studded gloves. Sequin tops. Hair worn up and to the side in some sort of weird attempt to look like they've had a horse crash into the side of their heads – did anyone really think this looked good for more than five minutes? Calculator wrist watches. Inter-continental nuclear ballistic missile.

Pretty In Pink

1986 might be famous for several things (Space Shuttle Challenger blew-up, Halley's Comet, and the Iran-Contra affair), but none more so than the release of Pretty In Pink. John Hughes love note to teen angst. Y' know, like all his other films. But Pretty In Pink is the sweetest. Even though like all of Hugh's teen dramas, there's a hint of human tragedy at the edges. Pink has Molly's alcoholic jobless father still mourning the loss of his wife walking out on him, filling this part. Which creates an interesting dynamic between Molly's need to trust in her great love, and her father's need to forget his. As well as his fascination with exploring the problems created by socio-economic differences on the teen dating scene.

The other standard Hughes tropes are well met here to, cutting-edge music and fashion. The music choices of the soundtrack are impeccable. With songs from Psychedelic Furs, New Order, Orchestral Manoeuvres In The Dark, The Smiths and INXS (Ya know what would make a great collection? A complete and definitive John Hughes 80s music set!). And the fashion isn't just reflective of the age, it helped shape it. So damn beautiful.

Molly Ringwald cements her position as THE sweetheart of the 80s with this outing. Even though she spends a majority of the film looking as if she's dressed up as someone's maiden aunt. But her wistful vulnerability is perfect. And yes, she does look very pretty in pink. But damn that's one ugly Prom dress. She looks like a potato sack full of candy.

And then of course there's Duckie. Largely considered the greatest of the Hugh's nerd characters. However I'm of the firm opinion that Ferris Buller's Day Off's Cameron takes that title. Duckie, played by John Cryer, is Molly's best friend who's madly in love with her. However, unlike in Some Kind Of Wonderful, he won't be getting his heart's desire in the final reel.

In a lot of ways this is Duckie's movie. The greatest emotional journey is carried by his character. As well as the broadest comedy. Duckie is funny, charming and the embodiment of all our deepest anxieties and, incredibly, the hero of the movie. He even beats up James Spader! He's a delight to watch, until you realise that he's most likely to kill himself in a fit of deep social exclusion by the time he's 24. I imagine he'd do it by running full-tilt at a freight train.

The hidden gem of Pink is a young James Spader. Playing the James Spader you've seen in every other one of his films. Smart, erudite, charmingly amoral. So it's a thing of consummate beauty as he plays the evil mastermind trying to break-up Molly's teen romance out of nothing more than spite. Who isn't a Spadyiac? Though the real question is, did James Spader create those early roles or did those early roles create James Spader?

Oh, yeah, and Andrew McCarthy plays the lead as Molly's 'too rich for the girl from the wrong side of the tracks' love interest. He's nice. Seems very... Andrew McCarthy-ish. And hey, there's nothing wrong with that. Plus there's a whole 'girl meets boy' plot going on and that's perfectly okay as well.

Great lines: “Isn't it great, so modern!”. “Every time you go to the john you lose IQ points”. “Whether or not you face the future it happens”. “If I was in a Turkish Prison I'd have a great time if I was with you”.

Falling in to the 'Hey did you know they were in it?' category: Annie Potts, Andrew 'Dice' Clay, Dweezil Zapper, Kristy Swanson.

Fashion wonders: Floral bobby-socks over white stockings. Vests! Lord when are vests going to come back into fashion. Men's hats worn rakishly on girls heads (and Duckie's...). Collars up! Jackets are to be worn with the sleeves pushed-up. Ray-Ban Wayfarers – the only cool sunglasses ever made. Teenagers wearing pearls. Non-ironic headbands. Cameo brooches.

Red Heat

One of the 80s quieter action classics, Red Heat (1988) has the powerful combination of Arnold Schwarzenegger, Jim Belushi's more talented brother James, and a Cold War buddy action/adventure sorta comedy. It's such a perfect blending of everything good I don't believe anyone has been able to watch this and not found something to enjoy.

In the first couple of minutes of the film you get a bath house scene filled with naked women, grunting body builders (which kinda gives the impression those naked women were an after-thought...) and the introduction to Schwarzenegger's character Iron Jaw, who is only wearing a G-string loin cloth and enough body oil to drown a lesser man. And three muscle men fighting nearly naked in the snow. And that's even before the credits begin to role!

The plot is simple enough. Taciturn tough as nails Soviet cop, Schwarzenegger, chases a Russian drug lord to America and gets teamed with loud mouth sloppy Chicago cop, Belushi. Hi-jinxs, bullets, explosions and international détente ensue.

The action scenes are competently done, but do suffer from the 'rule of three'. If a guy gets killed with a one-shot derringer pistol, he still gets shot three times. If someone gets hit with a truncheon or fist, three times. But it's an 80s film, so that means plenty of blood and tittie shots popping up gratuitously

The film makes a fist of social commentary, here and there. Schwarzenegger dismissal of porn with a snarled “capitalism”. The monologue about the oppression of the black male in the United States, given weight by being delivered by a black bank robber and drug dealer. Or Schwarzenegger's insistence that having a parakeet as a pet doesn't make him feminine (the parakeet is the least of the concerns on that matter!).

With the stranger in a strange land element we get to experience kooky 80s fads along with Schwarzenegger. Like computer chess, relaxation tapes, aerobic jazzacise, Satin crumpled suits, and green screen computers.

Highlights: naked snow wrestling. Twist a wooden leg off a cripple action. Young Laurence (Larry) Fishburn. The guy that plays the dad on Everyone Loves Raymond as the weary, seen it all before police captain. Killer transvestite nurse. All black, all bald murder gang. Playing chicken with buses.

Red Sonja

“Her name was Red Sonja. She lived in a savage world, in an age of violence...” which was 1985, as it turned out.

Spinning out of the Schwarzenegger, Conan the Barbarian films, who gets top billing here. Bridgette Neilson (before she married and divorced Sylvester Stallone), gives us this version of Robert E. Howards character, (actually not quite Howard's character, as it was reworked extensively by Roy Thomas and Barry Windsor-Smith of Marvel comics to the version that's laid out on film). A young woman whose family has been killed, and body violated at the hands of an evil vain lesbian Queen. Which has shades of Snow White. However unlike Snow White, Red Sonja is visited by a woodland fairy taking pity on the wandering rape victim, endowing her with a mighty sword arm and a mission of vengeance.

Which all happens in voice over in the first two minutes. We then get to view a temple of beautiful priestesses... who immediately get slaughted by the evil Queen, who steals their McGuffin, sorry, I mean mystic talisman. And seeing busty, scantly clad girls, chopped, stabbed and hurled into pits to their deaths must of fulfilled someone's idea of fetish pleasure as they don't go easy on the viewer when showing this.

In rides Schwarzenegger as Conan... whoops, not Conan, but Kalidor. Who just so happens to be very much like Conan, another Howard creation. Schwarzenegger plays the walking phallic imagery in a film that has mystic talismans of great power that can only be touched by women, and a lead female character who refuses and hates the touch of men, but becomes surrogate mother to a young boy prince. A lead who also likes to wave around a huge sword while wearing a costume that would make a stripper look over-dressed.

It's all very much the same 'girl power' subtext that was co-opted by the TV series, Xena (a spin-off of Hercules) a decade or so later. The equality of women, their potential for causing great destruction, the refusal to allow themselves to become victims and master the weapon of men – the sword. But, y'know, only if they show a lot of cleavage and thigh. And as long as they still need to get rescued by men when things get really tough.

As sword and sorcery flicks go, Red Sonja isn't all that bad at all. It's a Dino de Laurentiis production, so all the sets are lavish and well detailed. It's a very attractive film to look at. Even the very simple 'candle room set' is lovely. And there's rarely more than five minutes that go by without swordplay. It's plot and characterisations are no better or worse than the Conan films, yet for the most part, Red Sonja goes unloved. Why? Is it the annoying and supposedly comically endearing young boy Prince character? The constant need to try and soften Red Sonja's hard-line stance? Splitting the film's focus with two larger than life leads? Most critics say that it was just too silly. But it's no sillier than others. Maybe 1985 just wasn't ready for a female action hero?

Highlights: Giant hairy pet spiders. Giant mythical dinosaur skeleton bridge. Giant mechanical water serpent fight.

Back To The Future III

The end of the Back to the Future trilogy of films sees the 1980 time travelling characters, Marty (Michael J. Fox) and Doc (Christopher Lloyd) in the American old west. While the first film in the series is often considered the best, and the second in the series with it's misstep of focusing too much on the McGuffin of Biff's Gambling Almanac the worst. The third has often been viewed as a wishy-washy end to the series.

However I'd argue that it's this third film that is not only the best crafted of the series but also the defining film that not only resolves the Marty 'cowardice' story arc (tacked on haphazardly in the second and never seems convincing) but redefines the series. Not as the adventures of Marty McFly through time but as the story of the trials and passions of Doc Emmett Brown.

In the previous two films the Doc character was used as an impetus to the stories as well as a deux ex machina to the plot contrivances. Even though a fair amount of his history was given light, such as his being institutionalised for his laser-like dedication to his scientific beliefs, he always stayed firmly in the role of sidekick to Marty's lead (an interesting inversion of the standard man and boy dynamic in fiction).

With this third film he comes to the fore and eclipses Marty as the star of the films. And even though the last two films were made some years later after the first (number one 1985 and two and three filmed at the same time and released 89 and 90 respectively), it's the expanded focus on Doc that not only reframes the series but makes the whole greater than the parts.

Suddenly with this third instalment the series it's all about Doc. A man whose passion for science drove him to the edge of society. A man of unrelenting intellect not seeking reward but rather the wonder of discovery and understanding. Alienated in his own time and seemingly burning his entire lonely life away on his dreams of leading humanity into a new world of science, he is finally smiled upon come this third feature. Where his persistence and purity of vision sees him finally at the end of his pursuits and happily facing retirement in the wild west. Doc now turns from his lonely existence to find whole new fields to discover and explore. Those being the more fuzzy lands of the human heart as he falls in love with a comely 1900s school teacher. Shifting his focus from flux capacitors to the importance of inter-relating with those he loves. As character arcs go in the movies it's hard to find one as poetic as Doc's.

The wild west setting of the third film also challenges the makers to abandon their 80s decade referential extravaganza so prevalent in the second film (and somewhat in the first) and instead create a story of light mood and character driven drama. But that doesn't mean they don't find some knowing winks to throw at things to come. From the quiet little barbed-wire salesman to the Frisbee Pie Plate, which Marty uses to good effect as a flying discus. And for those wondering how historically accurate that is, yes, Frisbee's did indeed start out as cheap metal pie plates and were only re-purposed later as a recreational toy.

The whole Back To The Future series is a joyous excess of 80s excellence and really can not be recommended enough. The movie series withstands multiple viewings and is filled with several highly likeable characters. But ultimately, any film series that ends with the over arcing theme that your future hasn't been written yet. No-one's has, so make it a good one. Is well worth a watch. They just don't make 'em like this any more.

Some Kind of Wonderful

Some Kind Of Wonderful, John Hughes' 1987 oft overlooked masterpiece, eclipsed by his lighter Pretty in Pink, Breakfast Club, and Sixteen Candles. Telling the story of a poor hard working boy (Eric Stoltz) falling madly in love with rich high school girl (Lea Thompson). All the while blind to the affections of his spunky drum playing hot friend (Mary Stewart Masterson).

Stoltz acts the film with a stoney intensity that borders on serial killer. It's a little uncomfortable to watch, especially the scenes where he's spying on Lea Thompson. Creepy. If the plot veered off and had Stoltz killing prostitutes to have sex with their severed heads, you'd probably just shrug and say, “eh, saw that coming”.

Lea Thompson is... well, Lea Thompson. Has she ever played a role where she wasn't flashing that smile and just seemed like she was buzzing on a small hit of coke? I've often thought that the main impediment to greater success for Thompson was her sheer like-ability. In this film she plays a slut.

Mary Stewart Masterson has all the best lines. 'Don't go mistaking paradise for a pair of long legs', 'It's better to swallow pride than blood', 'You're losing it. And when it's lost, all you are is a loser'. She's just the cutest fringed-glove wearing Confucius you'll ever find!

And the young Stewart Masterson is sexier in this film than any other. Her big impassioned watery eyes. Her near sexual frenzy when playing the drums. Mixed with the bristly nature she uses to protect her fragile heart, is a stand-out performance, that makes repeat viewing of this film very easy.

It's a very well cast film (including creepy Stoltz). Even the secondary characters like the neo-Nazi semi-retarded school thug, Duncan, with a mischievous nature and over abundance of wit. Like drawing a picture of what his girlfriend would look like without skin... “Nice”, says creepy Stoltz.

Hughes portrays Stoltz poor life the way most 80s directors sketched out on screen people who were short a few bucks... e.g.: copious amounts of food on the table, lots of possessions about the place, a giant record collection etc. Being poor in 80s cinema wasn't too bad.

Hughes is well known for crafting the soundscapes of his movies with contemporary songs, often drawn from the fringe of popular music at the time. This film is no different, with Hughes choosing to go for an Earthier heavier rock choices than he does in his frothier flicks. With such performers as the Stones, Lick The Tins, March Violets, Psychedelic Furs, and even a little Jesus And Mary Chain. Which goes well with the theme of the movie; the importance of being true to yourself. A trite message worn bare by a multitude of films, particularly Hughes own, but trotted out for a fine showing here.

I can't recommend Some Kind Of Wonderful enough. It's an 80s film that transcends it's decade and sidesteps cliché by embracing it head-on.

Masters of the Universe

Anyone can make a He-Man movie. It's simple, get a bunch of muscle-heads together, put swords into their hands, then stand back as they go at it. It's a toy line, not Tolstoy.

That's why this 1987 He-Man film is so impressive. It's impressive how much they missed the concept. What we get is the cliché 80s brilliance that if you have great fantasy characters, then they're going to be twice as great if you remove them from their own world and put them into our modern one. Sure, it never once made for a good film, but it sure did make filming a lot cheaper.

What we get here is He-Man meets synth-music loving teenagers, lots of people in ill-fitting costumes, a plot about a cosmic tuning fork, a disbelieving cop who has more screen time than He-Man, and a midget in a rubber suit. The midget (Billy Barty) is probably the worst of it, as every time he makes what passes for a joke, the entire scene stops so everyone can laugh heartily. It's beyond excruciating.

The film however does have three good things going for it. It stars Dolph Lundgren, who makes for a great looking He-Man with his heroic golden mullet. Though it's a shame his English sounds as if he's regurgitating walnuts. Courtney Cox as the hapless wide-eyed Earth teen actually puts in a fairly good performance. So it isn't surprising that for the last third of the film the director has her unconscious. And a brilliant and truly menacing Skelator design (right up till he becomes super gold disco Skelator, anyway. My god, he looks like he has a Columbian drug lord's bidet stuck on his head!). He's huge and radiates evil. He'd be perfect if he didn't spend the entire film sitting down just saying nasty things to hurt peoples feelings. Sort of like your drunken spinster Aunt at the family Christmas party.

The rest of the cast is, I'm fairly sure by their performances, stoned off their tits. As was the writer of this mess who seems to forget the thin motivations of each character whenever he needs to set up a new funny line. The film is highly derivative. From the opening titles it steals from Superman, along with a bad attempt at stealing the theme as well by Tom Conti, to too numerous to name Star Wars riffs. Especially the final showdown at the end. It certainly answers that eternal question; What would the last five minutes of Return of the Jedi look like if it starred He-Man? Special mention for creativity goes to Skelator's oddly familiar post-credits line, “I'll be back!” No, thank god, you won't be.

The film is actually painful to watch in places, made no less so than when Dolph finally howls out the He-Man battle cry of 'I have the power!', which due to all those walnuts he seems to be choking on, comes out as 'Ay erv da prawn!'. All the action sequences are slow and clumsy, often with the actors tripping on their own costumes. The fight scenes aren't so much choreographed as the actors just wobbling their swords around slightly, being very careful not to hurt one another. I had cardboard tube fights with my sister that were better staged!

Meg Foster playing Evil-Lyn is darn sexy. But not worth the price of viewing.

Ancient Eternia saying: 'Live the journey, for every destination is but a doorway to another.' Masters of the Universe is a doorway to a quintessential 80s corner of Hell. And in that regard, it's fantastic!