The Room Is On Fire And She's Fixing Her Hair

Some people say you get what you pay for, some say you get what you asked for, and still others say you get what you deserve. I'm not sure which category this particular scenario falls under, but at the end of the day I am happier as a result. I am referring to my viewing of The Room. A few weeks ago I stumbled upon an article which described this movie as the Citizen Kane of bad movies. Well, that's like telling a fat person there's chocolate in the next room, or yelling "Kool-Aid!" in the middle of a trailer park. It's was instantly irresistible. Oh, hi Mark.

I'll just say up front that I now consider this the worst movie ever made, but I loved every minute of it. This movie is bad in so many ways, it seems to invent movie conventions just to screw them up. Bad acting? Check. Mind numbing dialog? Check. Actors missing their marks? Check. Plot lines abandoned? Check. Inexplicable scenes? Check. Framed photo of a spoon? Check.

This movie is so bad that one is tempted to think it may be intentional, until you realize that several million dollars went into the making of this film, and that director/writer/producer/main star Tommy Wiseau is just as brain addled outside of the film as in it. You'd also be hard pressed to see where the money was spent, certainly not on professional actors. Maybe that football was autographed by someone famous.

So the plot, as it were, revolves around Tommy and his girlfriend/fiancee/wife(?) Lisa and their rocky relationship. Mark, Tommy's best friend, is sleeping with Lisa. There is also a teenage boy named Denny who apparently wants to watch Tommy and Lisa have sex, to which Tommy seems rather unconcerned. Speaking of sex scenes, there are a few of them sprinkled throughout, and they may very well be the most unerotic ever committed to film. Lisa is not attractive, and Tommy looks like Howard Stern crossbred with Arnold Schwarzenegger. There are also numerous disembodied moans that clearly do not come from either of them. Denny hiding in the closet perhaps?

Other characters include Lisa's mother, who informs her early in the movie that she has breast cancer, and then it's never mentioned again; Lisa's sister, who likes to have sex in Lisa's house rather than her own and who finds her sister's affair comical instead of hurtful; and Tommy's other friend Peter, who appears to be a psychologist or psychiatrist.

The movie is full of disjointed scenes that have no setup or payoff, and make little sense even within themselves. The scene where Mark, Tommy, Denny, and Peter toss a football around in tuxedos immediately spring to mind. Are they getting ready for Tommy's wedding? Who knows, as it is left unexplained. Why are they only standing three feet apart whilst tossing the ole pigskin? When asked that question in an interview, Wiseau said that was not a goof and that everyone should try it. Another scene involves Denny and a drug dealer. There is no indication beforehand that Denny is in any kind of trouble, and no mention of these events afterward either. The scene does introduce the gun that will come into play at the end, and it gives us this wonderful bit of dialog: Denny: I owe him some money. Lisa: What kind of money? Denny: I owe him some money. Lisa: What kind of money? There is also the "Oh, hi Mark," scene, which has no setup whatsoever, but is pure hilarity:



At some point in the movie Tommy goes to buy some flowers for Lisa, as he is still unaware of her fornicating with Mark, and to the fact that she is a straight up bitch. No worries though, because we are about to see what happens when two actors speed read their lines and throw coherency out the window:



Eventually Tommy gets wise to Lisa and Mark's canoodling, or does he. This all depends on which scene you are watching. He seems to figure it out when he sees the two of them making out at his party, and we get this fantastic scene full of pathos:



Later on though, he feels the need to hook up a tape recorder to the phone to record their conversations. Hitting the record button and leaving it running, it still manages to capture a conversation hours later. So many things inexplicable about this: Just how long is a cassette tape? Why does it not record any other phone conversations? Does a normal cassette player have the ability to be hooked up to a phone? It is all proven moot anyway as he can clearly hear the conversation taking place behind a thin bathroom door.

I'll not spoil the ending for you. Suffice to say it certainly left me wanting more. I hope Wiseau makes another movie of the same caliber someday, although he will be hard pressed to top this one. In many ways, this is his Citizen Kane. He hit one out of the park, as it were, on his first try. It may be all downhill for him from here on.

Transmission out.

Stupid is as Stupid Does

So I just watched Ernest Scared Stupid, and this should tell you a couple of things. One, I must really love to watch bad movies. Two, I clearly lead an exciting life. The movie itself is one out of close to five thousand Ernest movies cranked out by Jim Varney during the 1980s and 1990s. I admit that I enjoyed his commercials for Mellow Yellow back in the day, but when it comes to his movies, lets just say a little Ernest goes a long way. I will preface this review by stating that kids under eight may enjoy this movie, or those who may not be playing with a full deck. As an adult however, the movie is subpar. Its not really bad enough to consistently laugh at, and certainly not good enough to really enjoy. Although where you fall in this range will depend greatly on your tolerance for Varney's rubber faced antics.

Once again we have a troll popping up to menace a small community of morons (see my earlier reviews of Troll and Troll 2). It seems this troll was trapped in the root system of a tree a hundred years ago or so by one of Ernest's ascendants after it tried to eat some kids or some shit like that. Ironically, but not surprisingly, Ernest himself is prophesied to be the one to release the troll. This happens when Ernest helps three kids build a tree house in the very tree the troll is under. They clearly don't notice or care that the tree looks like a giant hand coming out of the ground, or that the entire area is covered with scary movie ankle fog. My Mom always told me that tree houses were gateways to the netherworld, but until I saw this movie I had no reason to believe her. I expect a call from her at any moment with an "I told you so."

So the troll is released, and Ernest finds out from a creepy old woman who lives nearby that it must capture five children by Halloween night in order for it to unleash its army of trolls. This old woman is played by Eartha Kitt, who once upon a time played Catwoman. You'd have to look pretty hard to see how that ever happened, what with her eyebrows looking like a pair of Yosemite Sam's upper lip. Anyway, Ernest is on the case, which means of course that five children are captured and turned into small wooden statues in short order. The troll itself looks like Billy Barty from the Masters of the Universe movie, if he had face herpies and was constantly being tea bagged.

After roughly an hour and ten minutes of screen time, the adult morons in the community finally realize that Ernest has been telling the truth about the troll running amoke in their podunk town. They promptly follow him out to the tree to kill the troll, but wouldn't you know it, they are too late to stop the army of short people wearing badly designed rubber masks. Luckily the kid morons have figured out that the trolls' one weakness is milk. Once again we see lactose intolerance tip the scales in an interspecies war. Soon all but the head troll have been destroyed. He has slipped back under the ground to plead with the demons to make him invincible. Do trolls have a soul to sell? I'll ask my ugly-ass cousin the next time I run into her. Anyway, why the troll didn't do this to begin with is left unexplained, and too much of my brain has already been put to use writing this review to investigate further. So it emerges from the ground, and when he gets squirted with milk (I'll hold off on the porn jokes at this time), we get this wonderful piece of dialog, "I've grown too strong for that. Not even milk can stop me now."

Suddenly, Ernest is reminded of another part of the prophesy that the troll can only be killed with unconditional love. So the climax of the film is Ernest hugging the troll. That's what kills it. A hug. A fucking hug. Could someone explain to me how that is unconditional love, hugging something knowing that by doing it you're going to reduce it to a pile of green glop that looks like hospital food? Anyway, Ernest saves that day, and all the adult morons love on their kid morons, and everyone forgets that it was Ernest who set the damn thing free to begin with. He's like Gilligan, but without the island or a potentially gay, fat man bossing him around. Here's the climax of the movie, if you'd like to save yourself the hour and a half.



Transmission out.

Happy F#@king Life Day

OK, so it has been awhile since my last post. I've been pretty busy lately and updating this blog has sort of been put on the backburner. Also, most of the movies I've watched recently have been pretty good, with the exception of the atrocious Transformers 2. A brief rundown of that movie, before I move on to the main course. A transformer with big ears, a gold tooth, and urban dialect, John Turturro's worst acting since the last Transformers movie, inane "comedy," convoluted plot with holes big enough to drive Optimus Prime through, and a transformer with balls. That's right, balls. Yet these things pale in comparison to the simmering pile of shit that was the Star Wars Holiday Special. This is what I will talk you through today.

It is a testament to the popularity of Star Wars following its release that a holiday special was conceived and aired a full year after it initially hit theaters. This would likely not happen today, given the very short turnaround of films from theaters to home video. This was a movie that had posters hung up in theaters still showing the movie a year later with a photo of a birthday cake and 1 candle atop it, surrounded by Star Wars action figures. I would go so far to say that this will never happen again. Yet the biggest testament to Star Wars' popularity was the fact that people still went to see The Empire Strikes Back after the Holiday Special aired. Surely people thought George Lucas had gone off his nut after witnessing what is easily the worst two hours of television ever broadcast.

The "special," and I use that word in the loosest possible sense, opens with Han Solo and Chewbacca evading a couple of Star Destroyers, as Han is attempting to get Chewie to his family on Kashyyk for "Life Day," sort of the wookiee equivalent of Christmas. Enjoy this moment, for it is all downhill for the next two hours. Not even Harrison Ford can make this stuff bearable.

Most of the time is devoted to the home of Chewbacca, where we are introduced to his wife, his son, and his father. Chewbacca's dad is pretty damn creepy looking, particularly when it appears he is on the verge of pleasuring himself while watching a holographic performance of Donna Summer singing. I told you it was bad. Art Carney plays a shop keeper sympathetic to the wookies' predicament, as their planet is under Imperial rule. His acting here is so rank that it would run a junkie out of a crack house. His main function to the plot seems to be to merely provide others with holographic chips containing "performances" from the likes of Summer, Jefferson Starship, and some weird-ass ballet troupe. Each of these is worse than the last.

Harvey Korman pops up, as a fembot teaching people how to cook on television. He also appears in the sequence with Bea Arthur, who runs a cantina. You heard me. When she breaks into song, a little part of you will die. It is almost enough to ruin the actual cantina scene from Star Wars. In fact, I'll have to watch the cantina scene again just to make sure. Hopefully I won't be looking in the background for someone who looks like Bea Arthur.

People who have seen this "special" often point out that it's best part is the 10 minute or so cartoon in the middle, featuring the first appearance of Boba Fett. Don't be taken in by such shenanigans. Aside from getting to see Boba Fett a full year and a half before his appearance in Empire, this cartoon is just as big of a turd as the rest of it. The animation is perhaps the worst I have ever seen, and the story is nonsense.

Just as the "special" is wrapping up, and you think the worst is behind you, it pushes that prison shank just a little bit deeper into your flesh, as Carrie Fisher begins to sing. Carrie Fisher should never, ever, ever sing. Ever.



If this review is not enough to keep you away, I have a word of advice. Make sure you and your friends watch this together, as you will not want to have to endure it more than once. Remember, there is safety in numbers.

Transmission out.

Fairies Wear Boots

I recently read an article that discussed the cult following of a movie called Troll 2, and that claimed many who watched it swore that it was the worst movie ever made. So of course I immediately requested that Netflix send it to me. As a bonus, the disc also included the original Troll. It truly says something when the original can be called a better film. Once the disc arrived, I invited some friends over to share in the joy of some truly awful cinema.

I quickly realized that I had seen at least parts of the original several years ago, likely on TNT's MonsterVision hosted by Joe Bob Briggs (At some point I'll write about that fantastic show). Anyway, the plot revolves around a family of four moving into an apartment building that just happens to be the home of a troll, a witch, Sonny Bono, and Andy from WKRP in Cincinnati. The little girl wastes no time getting into mischief, and very quickly the troll possesses/assumes her form in order to gain the trust of the other tennants. Why, you ask. So that he may turn people into plants. Not ordinary plants, mind you, but plants that sprout other trolls, fairies, and various other diminutive bastards that look like the mistakes of a druken night of passion between Dr. Ruth, the Garbage Pail Kids, and the Ghoulies. There is probably some sort of metaphor or life's lesson in the scene where Sonny Bono is turned into a plant, but I didn't pick up on it.

The older brother soon realizes that his sister is even more obnoxious than usual, and in trying to figure out what is going on, befriends a woman (played by June Lockheart, the mother from Lassie) who turns out to be a witch. Did I mention that the boy's name is Harry Potter? Anyway, for some inexplicable reason she waits until the third day of funny goings on to tell him he had only three days to save his sister and keep the troll from turning the apartment complex into a fairy universe. Could've used that information, oh, I don't know, three days ago!!

Once the boy finds his sister and the witch congratulates him on defeating the troll, even though he did nothing to bring this about, his family piles into a car with only a box of stuff and some laundry detergent, and makes their escape. Apparently the cops were uninterested in asking them why they were the only ones to live through the ordeal, or in perhaps offering a more plausible explanation than "they were all turned into plants." Oh well. And by the way, easily the most frightening part of the movie is watching Michael Moriarty ( the original DA from Law & Order) dance around his living room to rock and roll. It should shame white people everywhere from ever dancing again.

So now we move on to Troll 2, the piece de resistance, which of course has virtually nothing to do with the first movie other than the presence of trolls. As I said earlier, some people are inclined to call this the worst movie ever made. While I certainly agree it is among the worst, I find it difficult to remove that crown from atop Plan 9's head. There remains, however, more than enough to laugh at. Everything about this movie is bad, from the acting to the dialog, from the special effects to the makeup, and from the directing to the plot. Just as many other bad movies, all these wrongs add up to a dreadfully hilarious right.

The movie opens with a young boy in his bed being told a story by his grandpa, a story that one assumes at first to be fantasy. An unfortunate traveler stumbles upon a group of trolls, who force him to eat food covered in bright green slime. As a result, the man turns into green gelatinous goo, which the trolls hastily devour. Did you follow that? Good, because that is the crux of the entire movie. What is not explained is how the grandpa knows about these trolls, or how he is able to relay this story to his grandson, since the old man is dead. Perhaps the boy is merely worked up because his family is about to travel to a sleepy little burg and take part in a family home swap with a family of yokels for a month. There is also no explanation as to how these two families hooked this up, particularly since this is pre-internet.

Wouldn't you know it, but this sleepy little burg just so happens to be the kingdom of said trolls, a sleepy little burg called Nilbog. I'll give you a minute to figure it out. If you still don't know, I'll clue you in later. One of the funniest moments of the film occurs when the boy and his family are traveling to Nilbog. There has been some arguing in the van, and so the mom decides to break the tension by yelling at her son, "Joshua, start singing. Come on, sing that song I like so much!" At which point he starts an in-the-round of "Row, Row, Row Your Boat." Why the hell she can't remember the name of the song is beyond me.

I should point out here that the family is not the only group traveling to Nilbog. Joshua's sister's boyfriend and three of his pals are on their way there in a winnebago. It seems Holly and her beau Elliot think it will be easier to "go all the way" out in the woods rather than back in her room. It's this contrivance that gives us the character Arnold and one of the film's funniest lines. Shortly after arriving, and having parked the winnebago in the woods, Arnold goes for a walk. He soon stumbles upon a pretty blonde girl running for her life from a group of trolls, or should I say, a bunch of extras wearing the shittiest makeup and costumes I think I've ever seen in a film. Anyway, the two of them run for their lives, but not, ironically back to the winnebago. Instead they find themselves at a building that from the outside appears to be a church, but on the inside is a cross between a hooker's bedroom and Dr. Frankenstein's lab. There they meet Creedence Leonore Gielgud, who we soon find out is the queen of the trolls, although at this point she is in human form. She offers them something to drink, something that has massive amounts of fog, smoke, or steam rising from its surface. So of course the girl takes a big gulp and instantly starts to excreet green slime out of her skin. Once she turns into a big pile of green goo, the trolls descend upon her. Arnold, who continues to stand in one spot despite things clearly taking a turn into some fucked up shit, merely exclaims, "They're eating her...and then they're going to eat me...OH MY GOOOOOOD!" Welcome to amature hour.

Another one of Elliot's buddies heads into town to get some food. Along the way he is given a ride into town by Sheriff Gene Freak. I kid you not. Once at the store, the boy looks around only to find numerous half-gallon cartons of milk, oddly unrefrigerated. When he asks for some coffee, the creepy man behind the counter who needs no makeup to look like a troll yells "There's no coffee in Nilbog. It's the devil's drink!" At this point in the movie I start making a mental checklist in my head of what to keep on hand should I ever have a run-in with trolls. Later that day Joshua and his dad arrive at the same store, only to find it closed. Joshua sees the town's sign in the rear-view mirror and realizes "Nilbog! It's goblin spelled backward!" Of course, no one in his family believes him at this point, as they all seem oblivious to the bizarre behavior of the local yokels.

Soon enough though, it all comes to a head. One of the trolls is set on fire by a lightning bolt from dearly departed grandpa, and when the dad puts him out with a fire extinguisher, the man's true troll form is revealed. Later that night, grandpa and Joshua infiltrate Creedence's lair, where they have to "concentrate" on the rock in the center of the room. It seems the rock, a piece of Stonehenge itself, is the source of the troll's power. What they have to "concentrate" on, however, is as much of a mystery as Stonehenge. At this point the grandpa tells Joshua that he is about to be called back to the land of the dead or something, but gives Joshua a backpack, telling him not to open it until he really needs it. How he is supposed to know when he will need it when he doesn't even know what's in it? It could be something that will help him defeat the trolls, or it could be a bag full of condoms for when Joshua goes off to college.

Where is Creedence Leonore Gielgud during all this, you ask? She's at the winnebago with Elliot's remaining friend. She seduces him by waving an ear of corn around her body. They get comfortable and both begin to bite on the ear of corn simultaneously as popcorn suddenly begins to fill the rv. One assumes that this friend is also about to become troll food, but when she exits, he is shown to be ok, minus some butter stains on his shirt. Completely inexplicable.

Creedence arrives back home, along with the other trolls, and encircle Joshua, who seems to have failed in his mission to stop them. But as we all know, it is always the darkest just before the dawn. He suddenly remembers the backpack, given to him all those long minutes ago. He opens the pack, and pulls out...a double decker bologna sandwich. He takes a bite of it, and Creedence is clearly distraught, "Aaagh! Think about the cholesterol! Think about...THE TOXINS!" Just like that, problem solved.

I'll leave it to you, dear readers, to discover exactly how the movie ends. Lets just say the bologna sandwich may not have been the cure-all it at first appeared to be. I have to say, despite the complete and utter ineptitude of everyone involved in this film, I enjoyed this movie far more than Terminator: Salvation, which I saw on the same day. Here's the trailer, if you are still not convinced.



Transmission out.

My Radiation Baby (My Teenage Fallout Queen)

Where do I begin with a movie like Nymphoid Barbarian in Dinosaur Hell? I suppose I'll start with the opening scenes, if for no other reason than to try and provide some sense of logic to the proceedings. We find out through a voice-over that a war lasting but a day, whose instigator remains unknown, has destroyed humanity as we know it. Nuclear fallout (?) has mutated animals as well as people, and civilization is at a prehistoric state. Our title character lets us know that she lives in a dinosaur hell, although there are really no dinosaurs. She also tells us that "Sometimes my juices start to flow, and I feel like a nymphoid," even though she has sex with no one, doesn't seem particularly interested in sex, and is topless for perhaps three seconds during the course of the movie. If you like the sound of her voice, soak it in here, because she barely speaks through the rest of the film.

The "plot," if you will, revolves around her man trying to rescue her from Clon and his band of lizard-men. Clon looks like a cross between the Kurgan from Highlander, a whino, and 1980s Cher. Judging by the condition of his teeth, I would say he is British. His lizard henchmen look like a poor man's version of the sleestaks.

With little in the way of dialog, the action is forced to carry the load, and it has the spine of someone suffering from scoliosis, rickets, and brittle bone disease. Early on in the film the nymphoid is attacked by three men, whom she initially fends off simply by twirling a wet towel over her head. Throughout the course of the film so many people are hit upside the head with tiny branches you'd think the big bad wolf was stalking them. And would someone please explain to me why people who clearly have lived in this environment for some time, manage to fall down so often. It's like watching the last few hours of a frat party. But the best action comes toward the end, when Clon engages in a duel for the ages with this guy whom I will call Leatherface. Leatherface has been helping the nympoid since she escaped from Clon's clutches, and is putting his life on the line to protect her. For roughly ten minutes of screen time, these two titans go at each other with the believability and the ferociousness of a second-grade school play. I won't bother to tell you how it ends. That is for you to suffer through.

As a side note, the music is done by The Astral Warriors. The name would suggest at least cheesy cool, but alas, no. It appears that the band or group had only one keyboard to share, and a musical repertoire of exactly four notes.

I give you the trailer, for anyone morbidly curious:



Transmission out.

Arnold Layne

I have seen several thousand films in my life, and many of them were terrible. It's not that I have trouble spotting a turkey beforehand, only that I tend to pursue them with glee. There have been only a handful of movies I've seen where the awfulness snuck up on me ( I'm looking at you, Godzilla and Armageddon). In my quest to lay witness to the worst movies ever made, I have certainly seen many that qualify. These include the Billy Ray Cyrus action pic Radical Jack (in which the audience must endure a scene where he pours water over himself and his mullet in slow motion), the Italian/Mexican/Spanish zombie movie City of the Walking Dead (where the end of the movie is just the first 15 minutes of the beginning repeated), the 80s horror movie The Invisible Maniac (his escape scene in particular), 1970s free love movie Feeling Up (in which a man climbs over top of the camera sans underwear), and of course, Ed Wood's Plan 9 From Outer Space, labeled by many as the worst movie ever made. Until yesterday, I would have agreed. But then I saw Wood's other infamous movie, Glen or Glenda. The mind reels.

I'm not even sure if I can adequately describe what I watched last night. It almost defies description. One could describe the movie as Wood's call for tolerance for transvestitism, something he found within himself. Yet that description doesn't describe probably 50% of the movie, as much of it seems to have nothing to do with anything.

The first six or seven minutes is just stock footage of traffic moving along a highway and people walking up and down city streets, intercut with, or superimposed over, shots of Bela Lugosi as "The Scientist," reciting lines such as "People...all going somewhere...all with their own thoughts...with their own ideas...with their own personalities." He also takes the time to mix a few beakers of liquid in his laboratory, and exclaims "The source of all life," as smoke rolls out of one. These things, however, seem normal in comparison to what unfolds later.

The actual "story" begins as police are called to the scene of a suicide of a transvestite. In an attempt to understand where this person was coming from, the police inspector visits a psychiatrist familiar with the condition. The inspector is supposed to be sympathetic to the victim, but at one point refers to them as "a four time loser." Anyway, the psychiatrist then tells the story of Glen, who also dresses like a woman and is called Glenda. Glen is played by none other than Wood himself, for whom the role was semi-autobiographical. His conundrum is whether or not to tell his fiance about his habits before the marriage or after.

It's at this point when the movie ceases to be comprehensible. The stock footage of traffic is repeatedly shown, along with Lugosi reciting lines such as "Pull the string! Pull the string!" all while superimposed over shots of stampeding buffalo. Then it gets really weird. What follows is easily the most bizarre stuff I've seen this side of a David Lynch movie. It's easier to just show you than to try and describe it.



To top it all off, the last 10 minutes or so is another story entirely, although still narrated by the psychiatrist. Wood still manages to include massive amounts of stock footage, only this time it's WWII instead of heavy traffic.

Plan 9 From Outer Space may still be the worst acted movie, and possibly the most unintentionally funny, but Glen or Glenda is far more convoluted and strange. If it were any other director, I might accept that these devices were intentional, an internal mechanism to echo Wood's own struggles with transvestitism. But this is Ed Wood, full of earnestness and desire to make great movies, yet lacking in almost any skill to actually create them. Yet what is great about his movies, besides the "so bad it's good" quality, is that his earnestness is so very palpable on the screen. If only we all had the courage to strive for greatness, even if we know we may never attain it.

Oh, and by the way, this has to be one of the creepiest things I've ever seen.


Transmission out.

Little Old Lady From Pasadena

So yesterday I rewatched another movie that I found amusing as a twelve-year-old boy, Moving Violations. Released in 1985, it was written and directed by the same man who did Police Academy. While this should tell you everything you need to know, I will nonetheless continue. The movie "stars" John Murray (Bill's younger brother), who does more mugging for the camera than a group of thugs working a corner bus stop. He, along with a group of other 1980s familiar faces, including Brian Backer (Mark Ratner from Fast Times), Wendie Jo Sperber (Michael J. Fox's sister in BTTF), and Nedra Volz, the housekeeper from Diff'rent Strokes (not Mrs. Garrett or the fat, manly one who looked at everyone like they were a piece of chocolate cake), all find themselves in traffic school for, you guessed it, moving violations. In said traffic school, they of course face off with a nasty police officer who has been demoted to this position in part because of the antics of Murray. Murray is supposed to be mischievious but funny, but instead he just comes across as a dick (think his brother Bill's turn as Bob, but without the psychosis). He is easily the least funny part in a movie that struggles enough for laughs. You know you're sailing in dangerous waters when the funniest part comes late in the movie, as Nedra Volz's character tells everyone they should "rip his nuts off," referring to their unscrupulous instructor. If you are having a hard time picturing her, here is a photo.
Clara Pellar, of "Where's the beef?" fame, has a cameo as Volz's friend or sister. Her main scene includes what is either an on-screen heart attack by Pellar or the world's most painful (and disturbing) orgasm. Not even Fred Willard can make this a good movie, his talents wasted by the fact his biggest laugh is supposed to come from hypochondriac Sperber mistaking him for a doctor when he is in fact a mechanic, and she winds up nude on a car lift in his garage.

Overlooked in this movie is the fact that most of these people really shouldn't be driving. Hell, Volz's character mistakes a dog for Pellar, her eyesight is so bad. To make it even more ludicrous, the postscript in the movie indicates that Murray's character had to attend traffic school 5 more times, and that in frustration, the city made him the instructor!! And now, nobody fails! I'd love to see the accident statistics in that city. Anyway, I feel that I have taken another bullet for the viewing public out there who may have been tempted to watch this movie. If I haven't persuaded you yet, maybe the actual trailer for the movie will.



PS - If I never have to see Sally Kellerman in a leather bondage outfit again, it will be too soon.

Transmission out.