Pasty vampires and greasy musclemen a go go!

So far this week, I’ve talked about cute shoes, not-cute shoes, Burl Ives, Raffi, and photogenic lichen.  Time for a palate cleanser, don’t you think?  And so, with some well-justified trepidation, we welcome back . . .

Hi, I’m The Jerk. It’s awful nice of Simcha to let me back here after last week. Things got a little carried away. I said some things that maybe I shouldn’t have. You all said some things maybe you shouldn’t have. The way some of you got worked up, you’d think I wrote about modesty.

Since the resounding success of Tango & Cash, I found it really hard to get into this week’s feature, The Lost Boys. Witnessing Stallone and Russell awesome it up for an hour and 30 minutes  (OK, I kind of lost track of time after Russell first used his boot gun), my life has been changed. No movie will ever be that good.

Not even "Over The Top"?

But you folks asked for a review of The Lost Boys, and that’s what I promised. Though not in so many words. It was more of an implied promise that would be impossible for you to prove in court. I’M NOT ON TRIAL HERE!

The Lost Boys

There are really two movies called The Lost Boys. There’s the funny and scary horror movie with a hip soundtrack and clever dialogue that everyone remembers from the not-at-all dated period of 1987.  And then there is the movie that actually plays when you put the DVD in the machine. The one with this guy:

Make mine extra greasy!

For those of you in the know, by whom I mean older men with a horn fetish, this is Timmy Cappello, a successful body builder, musician, and the lynch pin for the whole damn movie.  Michael (played by Jason Patric, who makes Keanu Reeves look like a bit of a better actor than Keanu Reeves– maybe that guy who played Horshack) and Sam (played by Corey Haim, who makes Horshack look like Jason Patric) go to Timmy’s concert. Watch this clip. It’s all there. Michael’s first glimpse of Starr (Jamie Gertz in full Jamie Gertz mode); Sam’s attempts to keep his brother’s eyes on the greasy muscle man, and away from the possibility of a heterosexual entanglement; the extras “head banging” to the “rocking” saxophone from “Timmy.” It’s all there.

This scene should be your second clue that the movie you remember fondly is, well, crap. Big time. First clue? It was produced by Richard Donner. This is the  guy who got his start directing Gilligan’s Island and never really progressed. How seriously can you take a guy whose life as an artist began with him shouting “No, no, no, the Skipper needs to hit Gilligan harder!” Or, “More coconuts!”

Next up? How about this guy:

This shirt makes Elton John cringe.

The outrageous clothes, the shop-till-you-drop Valley Girl attitude, even the way the other characters in the movie react to him all pretty much spell out that this is a kid who really liked the volleyball scene in Top Gun.

This is the poster on his closet door.

More proof? How about the bath scene. Only girls get bath scenes. Period. Think Janet Leigh. Now stop thinking Janet Leigh, you pervs.

So, is Corey Haim’s character an early pioneer for gay pride?

Or is it just that an earlier draft of the script had the Sam character as Michael’s little sister? At some point in development, probably between the fifth and sixth eight balls, the producers decided they would go with Corey Haim–but no one bothered to do a re-write.  Haim, being a pro, ran with the part.

"Woo-woo-woo-woo-woo-woo-woo-woo-woo"

Or, it was directed by Joel Schumacher.

I directed him too!! Yum!!

Could Schumacher be the sole reason for this movie’s oddness?

Sadly, no. Look at the casting: Keifer Sutherland as a vampire?

He looks like one of those illegal roofers.

I had no idea vampires could be so … potato faced. You know why I had no idea? Because they can’t. Vampires are evil and menacing. Pasty doesn’t cut it.

Then there are the Lost Boys themselves. They dress like escapees from a Duran Duran video. I would say they are all nondescript, but they had to cast Alex Winters. Yeah, from Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure. We all like him, right?

He was either Bill, or Ted.

Hey, you know, there something about his face …

Ooh-ooh-ooooh!

Then we have two real actors, Diane Wiest and Edward Hermann, slumming it. Wiest won an Oscar shortly before this for Hannah And Her Sisters. While that is a revolting movie, she is really good in it.

Hermann is best known for playing Goldie Hawn’s husband in Overboard, a romantic comedy featuring Kurt Russell. That was just a revolting movie.

Finally, we have Barnard Hughes playing Grandpa. His character is a curmudgeonly taxidermist who knows more about the vampires than he lets on. Hughes, of course, played the curmudgeonly taxidermist named Grandpa in East of Eden with James Dean. He was nominated for a Golden Globe for his portrayal of Grandpa, a curmudgeonly taxidermist, in David Lean’s Lawrence of Arabia. And he got his start in theater playing Grandpa in Olivier’s Hamlet, Prince of Danish Curmudgeonly Taxidermists.

Is this a badger I see before me?

Oh, I almost forgot the Frog Brothers. Corey Feldman and Jamison Newlander are honestly the best part of the whole movie. The comic book store clerks / vampire killers provide the only humor in the movie.

Newlander and Feldman fight for the phone. It might be their agent calling. It never is.

I know Feldman made a sequel, but Newlander wasn’t in it, so I refuse to watch.

Well, the librarians are getting that look like they might call the FBI on me, again, so I better wrap this up. Stupid Patriot Act.

Angela Lansbury sends her regards, jerk!

For a parental warning, I don’t know what to tell you. This is an R-rated horror comedy. This movie isn’t really that funny. Not particularly scary. There is some gore. Gertz and Patric do have a “love” scene, but it is about as convincing as Tom Cruise in Interview with a Vampire.

Good thing we're straight.

Next week’s movie will be decided by another poll. I am going to leave the poll up through Friday at midnight. Here are your choices: Last week’s runner-up, The Legend of Billie Jean, Helen Slater’s magnum opus; The Omega Man, Charlton Heston’s quick pay-day; or Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, a movie that is fine example of our collective guilt.