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So
we get our first guest column. HUZZAH! And nobody deserves to do it
more than my good buddy 'Nekkid Bill' Rinehart who's braved many a
cinematic "treat" with me and helped perfect the 3B
Theater rating
system.
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When
Chad first asked me to write a column, I was honored. The next time
he asked, I was scared. When he asked again, I was annoyed. "I
heard you the first two times," I said, from the couch.
Writing
about some of the movies we’d seen wouldn’t be easy. Well,
writing would be simple. Remembering the films would be the tough
part. You think he came up with the 3B rating system as a lark? That
took years of trial and error: Would a 12-pack rating be equivalent
to a fifth of vodka? Would Robot
Monster be painful enough to necessitate shots of Maui?
Heck,
he’s tough enough to watch Speedtrap
and Night Journey
on a case of Busch Light, and then RE-WATCH them on the resulting
hangover. I’m a lightweight when it comes to movies. If I don’t
remember watching The
Mole People, I
probably don’t want to see it again. If I enjoy seeing something,
like Teenage
Caveman, then it
was probably watchable on some level in the first place.
My
next concern was to pick a flick. Having already dropped more titles
and names than Dick Cavett, the logical choice would have been a
Woody Allen film. Besides, I just caught Woody’s new "art de
triumph", Small
Time Crooks, and
his work was fresh in my head. But I didn’t want this article to
be another rant against New York Yiddish filmmakers. Woody’s too
easy a target.
(By the way,
if you like his early stuff, you’ll love ‘Small Time Crooks.’
At least judging from the audience I was with.)
The
secondary target on my scope was Don Simpson- Jerry Bruckheimer
films. (Or
is that the other way around, in reverse?) They
have the remake of Gone
in 60 Seconds out this summer, and Chad has already reviewed the
original. But again, too easy a target. Don Bruckheimer and Jerry
Simpson have produced some of the most mind-numbingest crap ever to
rule the box office. I screamed "End!" at Armageddon.
The Rock
quite literally gave me nightmares.
In
1997, Chad and I undertook a project that killed a lot of brain
cells, but has since given me countless minutes of pleasure. Our
friend Dave was teaching English in South Korea. He was homesick for
many of the 18 months he was there. To cheer him up, we decided to
make our own version of MST3K,
complete with scripts, skits, props and music.
Dave
had requested we dub off copies of Playboy’s
Wet, Wild and Ready,
but we wanted to lampoon and lambaste some cinematic treasure.
Luckily Paul Verhoeven gave us exactly what we needed.
Showgirls.
After
sketching out a plan of action for the script, we borrowed a video
camera, rented the movie, obtained beverages (Several
cases.) and
sat down to poke fun at our target.
Showgirls
is a classic tale of love found and lost, the precariousness of
fame, the conquering of an entertainment capital by a nobody, and
the pull-yourself-up-by-your-bootstraps nature that is America.
It’s also about boobs. Naked ones. Lots of ‘em. Oh yeah, it’s
also about selling one’s values out, cutting throats to get ahead,
and spontaneous, unexplained vomiting.
I’ve
watched our version of the movie a couple of times, but have not
since seen the "unenhanced" version. So forgive me for
memory lapses. And I was drunk each time too. Very drunk. What are
you looking at? I haven’t got a problem.
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Our
story starts with a small-time girl, played by Elizabeth Ashley, -er,
Berkley, hitching her way to the city where dreams come true: Las
Vegas. (I
don’t remember her character’s name, and I guess it’s not
important. If you’re really curious, go rent the damn movie
yourself. And I do NOT have a drinking problem.)
She’s
offered a ride by a guy in a truck, who remarkably, resembled the
fella we were making the tape for: Dave. Anyway, this Dave-like guy
drives them both into Vegas, where they head into a casino, and
start gambling. When she’s done, Elizabeth heads back to the
parking lot, only to find Dave has absconded with her suitcase.
Almost
immediately, Elizabeth throws up on a nice young woman, who invites
her home. This young stranger is a costumer for one of the big Vegas
reviews, and idolizes a, "ahem"-rock star- who resembles a
cross between Michael Bolton and Kenny G.
(Yes, that
becomes important later, and yes, you’re supposed to hate him
already.)
Our
protagonist takes a job at a local strip joint, but only until
she’s discovered and gets a big part in one of the big shows. At
the strip joint, Eliza, as we shall call her, meets a whole bunch of
interesting characters, including Robert Davi, as the mean boss who
really has a heart of gold, and a male artistic dancer who tries to
get her into bed.
(He pops up a couple of times, but isn’t
really central to the story. The long and short of it is: he’s a
player.)
While
dancing, Elizabeth Busby,-er, Berkley meets Gina Gershon’s
character, and Kyle MacLaughlin’s character. Gina is the headline
dancer at the casino, while Kyle, her boyfriend, is a muckity muck
there as well. (I
should backtrack: while visiting backstage at the casino, Eliza saw
Gina push her predecessor down the stairs, thus taking over top
billing.)
Gina’s
character is bisexual.
(Oooh! Never
would have guessed that in a Joe Esterhaus flick, eh?) And
naturally she takes a liking to our pure-hearted heroine. After a
failed seduction backstage of the strip club, involving Kyle and a
lap-dance, Gina pulls the strings to get Eliza an audition as a
backup dancer at the casino. The audition features one of the guys
from L.A. Law
and the gay guy from Ellen,
and a rather embarrassing boob scene. (Directors:
make sure if you make a tit film, cast actresses with tits. For that
matter, cast dancers who can dance, and a love interest who’s
attractive.)
Surprise,
surprise, surprise. Eliza gets the job, makes friends with Gina,
nearly gets seduced by Gina, pushes Gina down the stairs, takes over
the spotlight, seduces Kyle,
(Note to directors: sex scenes
in pools should not resemble trout fishing in any way shape or
form.),
mispronounces Versace, gets a gratuitous visit from her coworkers at
the strip club, arranges a date between her vomit-target friend and
the Kenny G-Michael Bolton look-a-like, and has her "mysterious
past" uncovered. Our little girl is all grown up, and has
become a Showgirl.
Before
we get to that, I do want to point out that the date between her
friend the seamstress and the Kenny/Michael hybrid ends with rape.
Not just rape, but sodomy. And not just sodomy, but gang sodomy. (Imagine
watching that scene with 4 beers too many in your gut. Ick.)
Never
fear, Ms. Busby,-er, Berkley avenges her friend with a few
well-placed kicks and some extra-long press-on nails.
Where
were we? Oh yeah. I know you’re on the edge of your seat, waiting
to hear Elizabeth’s mysterious past. I know I was.
(Of course, I really had to
drain the ole’ lizard, if ya know what I mean. You don’t buy
beer. You only rent it.)
Before
she moved to Las Vegas, Elizabeth turned tricks in Denver.
Shocking,
ain’t it? Everyone at the casino is just mortified by the news
that someone has besmirched the dignity of the stage and the honor
of the footlights by selling their body.
(Ironic,
ain’t it?) The
L.A. Law
guy and Kyle tell Eliza she’ll have to go, or they’ll release
her police record to the Las Vegas media. (Do
the television reporters there really give a rat’s arse about the
performers? Somehow, I doubt it.)
Eliza
gets her stuff and stops by Las Vegas Memorial Hospital to say
goodbye to her seamstress friend, who is still hospitalized from her
unpleasant date, and to make up with Gina. Upon parting, they kiss. (Gina
Gershon kissing another woman on film? No way! That would never
happen!)
And
we have closure, as the Dave-guy stops to give Eliza a ride out of
town. The circle is complete. Roll credits, run to the bathroom, and
grab another beer on your way back.
The
End
Of
course, Elizabeth Berkley is best known for her role in the teen,
after-school, sex comedy Saved
By the Bell, and
was probably trying to distance herself from that part, by starring
in. It worked. Too well, I fear, as we’ve not seen Elizabeth
since.
One
of the other leading characters, Kyle MacLaughlin, best know for his
lead in Dune,
probably made this movie just so he could say Dune
wasn’t the worst thing he’d done.
I’m
sure I’ve messed up the order of some of the events, or even left
things out, (Like
Elizabeth vomiting for no apparent reason.)
but
that’s the general feel of the movie.
Even
though Chad has only recently forgiven me for forcing this movie
upon his delicate sensibilities, I think the healing has finally
begun enough for me to say, I like, and highly recommend Showtunes.
And with enough adult medicine, Showgirls
ain’t bad either.
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