DVDs, the final triumph of a consumer society

I was going to make a webpage, but I'm too busy and too lazy, and so here we are.

I am your host, Teenage Bamm-Bamm. My identity will remain a secret, not so much for my own protection, but for that of my close associates, who will also occasionally post their thoughts here.

I reside in suburban Washington, DC, and move in the highest circles, so you might expect that I would be commenting on politics and gossip from "the Hill"...and perhaps I will, but not today. They're all crooks, and I've half a mind to vote for Nader.

Right now, I'd like to talk about DVDs, because I have some money coming in the next couple of weeks and I imagine every last penny of it will be spent on DVDs. Much to Teenage Bamm-Bamm's Domestic Cave-Mate's chagrin, I will buy DVDs of things I have never seen, and may not be likely to see even after I've bought it on DVD. However, they DO last forever, and certainly there MAY come a day when I'll have lots of time on my hands and nothing else to do...at least that's what I'm banking on.

So, occasionally, I'll discover a gem in my collection, and write a review of it on this very blog. Rest assured, despite my caustic wit and stinging criticisms, I will only review things that I think everyone should run out and buy right away. HOWEVER, if you think "Mommie Dearest" is a drama, or think Helen Hunt deserved to win an Oscar, you should stop reading right now. You won't "get" it, and should probably stick to things that will be "guaranteed in-stock" at Blockbuster.

First up is “V:The Complete Series”, 19 episodes available in a 3-disc set for around $25. Shop around, I imagine you’ll soon be seeing used copies on Ebay for much less!

For the uninitiated, “V” followed on the heels of “V: The Mini-Series” and “V: The Final Battle”, two NBC movies-of-the-week that dramatized a pre-“Independence Day” battle between humans and aliens for ownership of the Earth. The aliens, initially presenting themselves as friends, soon revealed that they were lizard people wearing human masks, and that they were fond of eating things like mice, hamsters, and…. well, people.

The rag-tag band of human freedom fighters eventually banish the “Visitors” through the deployment of “Red Dust”, a bacterial agent that makes the aliens die horrible deaths but luckily not the humans.

“V” the tv show begins a year after the “red dust” business, when the humans discover that not only have the aliens been biding their time, hanging our behind the moon, but also that the red dust is ineffective in any locale that doesn’t have regular freezes. Like Brazil, Florida, and (luckily!) Southern California. Los Angeles is somehow set up as an “open city” where the humans and aliens can peacefully co-exist, while the aliens presumably go about their business of eating everyone else on the planet.

The special effects, which were state-of–the-art in the movies, have devolved to television standards. Which means they rely on lots of car chases, motorcycle chases, horse chases and anything else they can do to avoid having to use footage of space-ships, which they only have two shots of which they use over and over. Once in a while they’ll show an alien eating a mouse, which involves having the alien pick up a mouse, walk toward the camera so his hands can’t be seen, whereupon the live mouse is replaced with white chocolate or marzipan or something that the actor can pop into their mouth.

The show stars Faye Grant as Dr. Julie McCoy. Her name’s not really “McCoy”, but I can’t remember what it really is so I said “McCoy”. She’s secretly working on creating new red dust with Nathan Bates, CEO of Science Frontiers, who is buddying up with Diana, the leader of the aliens. In real life, Grant is marries to the dreamy Stephen Collins. She would have been better off staying home to tend to her husband, rather than be involved in this mess.

Jane Badler as Diana, and June Chadwick as Lydia, do their best impressions of Alexis and Krystal Carrington, only with more hair and not as much talent. (And saying someone has less talent than Linda Evans is REALLY saying something. Why Diana doesn’t kill and eat Lydia I’ll never understand, since Lydia is apparently an underling and is always catty and quarrelsome.

A pre-“Beastmaster” Marc Singer is Mike Donavan, who proudly announces in the first episode that he’s a “newsman”. His face always looks like he’s suffering extreme lower back pain, and if you’ve seen a recent picture of him you’ll know that all that grimacing didn’t do his face any favors. Sometimes Donavan is looking for his teenage son who’s been brainwashed by the aliens, but the mention of the son dries up after a while, much like older brother Chuck on “Happy Days”.

Michael Ironside is Ham Tyler, some sort of professional freedom fighter. Let me repeat that his name is Ham. For some reason he calls Donavan “Gooder”…I’m really not sure why, but I imagine it must have gone something like this:

Ham: “I’m good.”
Donavan: “Yeah, well I’m gooder.”
Ham: “Hmm, I think I’ll call you Gooder.”

In fact, I’m really not sure of ANY of Ham’s thoughts or motivations, because he mumbles all of his dialogue so low in his voice that I have to turn up the volume whenever he appears just to be sure he’s speaking. Apparently, he and Gooder are involved in some sort of competition to see who can wear the tightest jeans. Gooder’s are tighter, but Ham has more to show for his efforts (if you don’t know what I’m talking about, you’re not gay or female), which may be why he was scuttled off the show mid-way through the season.

Jennifer Cooke is Elizabeth the “Star Child”, the product of a human-alien tryst. In the first episode she was the little girl from “Poltergeist”, then she went into a cocoon that was protected by rattlesnakes, then she emerged as a lovely young woman with a closet full of Laura Ashley. And she can move things with her mind. And play piano. And Diana’s always looking for her. And she likes to flirt with Kyle, the “rebellious but loveable” male ingénue whose only other purpose in the show is to wear tight jeans, take his shirt off and ride motorcycles. Oh, and flirt with Robin, who is ELIZABETH’S MOTHER.

A pre-“Freddy Krueger” Robert Englund is Willie, and alien who’s decided to help the humans out not by providing detailed intelligence, but by TENDING BAR. His most endearing quality is that he mixes up English words, for example, he may say “Glad to feet you”, when he means “Glad to meet you”. Isn’t that cute? Except that he does it, like, every third goddamned word, even though EVERY OTHER ALIEN ON THE PLANET CAN SPEAK PERFECT ENGLISH.

There’s also a black man, who dies halfway through the season. Since it’s the 80’s, he only speaks or appears when someone is needed to own a bar or be argumentative.

Next up is “Muscle Beach Party”, conveniently available on a double-sided disc, paired with the non-beach (and non-Annette) “Ski Party”. (Available at Best Buy for ten bucks).

Let’s begin with some ground rules: Annette Funicello, America’s Sweetheart, is beloved by all, but especially me. Lest anyone construe any remark made by me as “criticism”, and then decide to chime in with their own digs at Ms. Funicello, rest assured this will result in being punched in the face, by me. So, on we go.

“Muscle Beach Party” is the second installment in the wildly popular “Beach” series of movies of the 1960’s, each one made for about five dollars by director William “Bud” Asher, creator of such fine television shows as “Return to Green Acres” and “I Dream of Jeanie: 15 Years Later”. As in the first film, “Beach Party”, Frankie Avalon is “Frankie” and Annette Funicello is “Dee Dee”, young lovers who enjoy nothing as much as a good surf weekend.

The movie opens with Frankie and Dee Dee leading a caravan of jalopies piled high with middle-aged Hollywood extras playing teenagers on their way to the ocean for some sun, sand and surfing. No sooner do they arrive than Dee Dee starts harping on Frankie for not having any ambition in life other than surfing. At the beginning of their SURFING VACATION.

In the first shocking twist, the boys and girls are all sleeping together in the SAME HOUSE. Luckily, sensible Dee Dee is armed with a clothesline and an antique quilt, to block off the “girls area” (which is tastefully provided with frilly curtains and soft lighting) from the “boys area” (which looks like a sub-saharan mud shack). A couple of the “faster” girls bristle at Dee Dee’s prudishness and try to sneak over to the boys’ side, only to find that ALL the boys have already fallen asleep! Ha ha, aren’t boys stupid?

Next day, all the kids head out to stand on their surfboards while someone sprays water on them and a movie of the ocean plays in the background. Their fun is disrupted by the arrival of “Jack Fanny” (artfully played by Don Rickles) and his “Muscle Boys”, who are all wearing pink square-cut swim trunks with matching capes. Pink. Capes. Fanny. What this movie could use is some more sub-text.

Also, there’s an Italian heiress on a boat offshore, who has something to do with Buddy Hackett. I’m not sure exactly what, I nodded off for awhile. The heiress flies a helicopter over to the beach and picks up the head muscle man, “Flex Martian” (Peter Lupus of “Mission: Impossible” fame, who would later doff his pink trunks for Playgirl ) and takes him back to the boat, causing no end of worry for Mr. Fanny.

(Attention smart-alecks: I KNOW a vessel at sea is called a “ship”, and a “boat” is a vessel in inland waters. Lay off.)

Frankie, still miffed at Dee Dee, heads off for a late-night surf with a LIT TORCH IN HIS HAND (I’m still not quite sure what that was supposed to accomplish – to scare off sharks? - or the logistics of riding a surfboard while holding a flaming piece of driftwood. ) While he’s gone, Dee Dee takes the opportunity to sing a plaintive teen ballad. Now, I’m the first to tell you that Annette never had the strongest singing voice, but honestly, it sounds like she was standing in another room with a tin can clamped over her mouth when they recorded this one. Help a girl out, sound engineers!

Frankie returns to shore to enjoy a smoke, just in time to meet the Italian heiress, who hears him singing, forgets all about the captive muscle man she has holed away on her yacht, and decides to fall in love with Frankie. Oh, and arrange a recording contract for him. Now, Frankie Avalon is reasonably attractive, I GUESS, but I’ve seen Peter Lupus’ Playgirl spread, and take it from me, she’s a FOOL!

Anyway, action shifts back and forth between a teen hangout run by Morey Amsterdam, where Dee Dee and Frankie’s respective posses engage in a sort of proto-“serving” of each other, and Jack Fanny’s Home for Wayward Boys, where the muscle men are now wearing tank tops with their names – Rock, Biff, Tug, Sulk, Riff, Mash, and Clod – emblazoned with rhinestones on their chests. I might also mention that there are two muscle GIRLS, “Lisa” and “Flo”, who are treated with contempt throughout the film.

Of course, everything works out okay in the end, with Frankie giving up fame and sex with a foreigner, for the promise of someday getting it on with Dee Dee, who has the biggest breasts on the beach, but isn’t about to give it without a ring on her finger. ‘Atta girl!

The cast is filled out by a bevy of beach party regulars, including John Ashley as “Johnny”, who is always much more respectful of Dee Dee that bad boy Frankie; Jody McCrea as “Deadhead”, so ed not because he is a tripped-out Grateful Dead groupie, but rather an abject moron; Valora Noland as “Animal” – one can only wonder where THAT nickname came from; and Candy Johnson as “Candy”, who looks about 60 years old, has the beer gut and stick legs of a boozehound, wears a pants-suit made of what looks like red cheerleading pom-poms, and STILL manages to drive the kids into paroxysms of ecstasy when she does the frug on the beach.

The real thrill of any beach movie is seeing what big stars are down on their luck enough to take the job. Besides the aforementioned Rickles, Hackett, and Amsterdam, we are “treated” to the dulcet tones of the ever-present Dick Dale and the Dell Tones. You may think that all beach music of the sixties is happy and perky, a la the Beach Boys. If you do, you’ve never heard Dick Dale. His voice sounds like he’s just spent the weekend smoking clove cigarettes and drinking absinthe, and he looks like somebody’s “cool dad” who decided to spend the weekend with “the gang”.

A young pre-“Grizzly Adams” Dan Haggerty is one of the Muscle Men, “Riff”. Despite being shaved and oiled, one can see the beginnings of the beefy good looks that would make him King of the Wilderness.

Peter Lorre plays some sort of ex-muscle man who creeps around and spies on people. Apparently he died four days after this movie premiered. From shame, one would guess.

Last but not least, this movie introduces us for the first time to “Little Stevie Wonder”, who serves the dual role of being the only black person AND the only person with a physical disability on the beach. Little Stevie, backed by the Dell Tones, sings a joyous Gospel-influenced number that the white children go crazy for – at least, they go crazy for it during instrumental breaks. While Stevie is actually SINGING, they return and sit politely in their seats. Just like Talent Round Up Day on the Mickey Mouse Club!