The Lord of the Dance

"First dance. First love. The time of your life."

Dirty Dancing - that quintessentially classic film and required viewing for all pre-teen girls. The film that spawned an unfortunate resurgence of interest in early 60's pop music, and a breadth of bad fashion throw-backs. A coming-of-age film, a thinly veiled sex-instructional. A film about rebellion, and innocence lost...the Curator is drooling.

On the eve of its 20th anniversary, a rare, private screening has been arranged. So get your Keds on, roll up those cut-offs, and get ready to vastly change over the course of a three week summer vacation. Here comes everything you you’ve ever wanted to know about Dirty Dancing….a 3-Part analysis on the life and growth of Baby.

Part 1 - Nobody Puts Baby in the Catskills

We open on a happy scene, a family driving off to a long overdue summer vacation in the Catskills. Innocence is established with cutesy teen “Baby,” hugging dad on the neck from the back seat while “Big Girls Don’t Cry” plays softly in the background. It is apparent our Baby is growing up. She may be still naïve, but she is ripe for discovery.

The happy family arrives at happy vacation spot, and it turns out dear old dad is best pals with resort owner. The fam’ will be receiving extra special treatment. Oh yeah they will, in BOY form. First thing Baby does is snoop around and eavesdrop. She overhears old man Kellerman encouraging the waiters to show the daughters a good time, “even the dogs.”

But then….enter Johnny Castle, who tells Robbie the waiter to, “Just put your pickle on everybody's plate college boy and leave the hard stuff to me.” Oh my. Now the Curator can only imagine what he means by this phrase. Perhaps a bit of constructive criticism on his waitering technique? Whatever the case, when Baby sees Johnny and Penny dance the Mambo together later that night, she gets a bit of a funny feeling inside.

Part 2 - Baby Crawls out of the Playpen

Kellerman’s is BORING! What’s a girl to do while the folks Foxtrot? I guess I’ll go on a walk…..Huh, Staff Quarters, No Guests….Wonder what could be going on up there….Wowza! What are these kids doing? Sheesh, they’re almost screwing on the floor! Dirty dancing has arrived!

“Wanna try it?” asks friendly boy-type Billy who also just so happens to be Johnny Castle’s cousin. “Uh-uh,” Baby shakes her head, looking down at the floor. Boys have cooties!

But Baby soon proves unable to resist that beckoning finger call from Mr. Castle, she is drawn to the dance floor, thus receiving her first instructional from Johnny, a bit of masturbation if you will. Roll this way, Baby, thrust that way, Baby. It all happened so fast, and just when she is beginning to “get it,” it’s over. But there’s no turning back for Baby after that taste.

Fortunately, Ex-Rockette/Dance Instructor Penny gets herself “into trouble.” Then, Baby learns a cruel lesson, not all boys are honorable! You mean that she’s preggers and the boy KNOWS and won’t HELP! Unheard of! But seeing how this is her chance to Mambo her way into the hot man’s arms, Baby gets Penny some money to “take care of it,” and some free dance lessons. Now she must learn the very dance she saw only days before, courtesy of Johnny “All the Right Moves” Castle.

While learning all the steps and twirls, Baby is exposed to some light, friendly lesbian play and a quickie threesome, but the true lesson comes only with the lifts. The Lifts!!

She must run and leap through the air graceful as can be, a soaring eagle, a sexually liberated woman. And it’s all about trust. Johnny tells her, “Now, you'll hurt me if you don't trust me, all right?” Awe, a metaphor for a real, live relationship. Our Baby is growing up. Sniff. But, she fucks up it during the big show. Ooops. Guess Baby still has a few things to learn.

Part 3 – Baby Learns to Fly

After the big show Baby gets another harsh lesson from dear old Dad. Turns out she lied to him about what the money she gave Penny was for and now he doesn’t trust her anymore. So she runs to The Swayze for a bit of comfort, and a good old fashioned, wholesome, free-range sausage party. “Do you love me now that I can dance?” Indeed. Post-doin’ it, Johnny suddenly realized he is not on a first name basis with the girl he just boned, and has the class to ask her about it. To which he replies, “Frances. That's a real grown up name.” Good come back, Johnny! But, he is correct. Baby has simultaneously shed her virginity and her ridiculous childhood in one fell stroke, arriving with a short, heel-burning skid into womanhood. Now if only there was a chance to somehow have another dance scene so she could perfect that darn lift….

But meanwhile, sex can’t solve all her problems. Baby is discovering that the world is not the place she thought it was, that somehow her sheltered existence bedecked in rose-colored glasses didn’t prepare her for the harsh realities of the real world. Huh. When Johnny is accused of stealing wallets, Baby has to own up as his alibi. Strong girl that she is, she announces to the entire resort, “Johnny couldn’t have taken the wallet. I know it. I just know it. Because he was in his room all night. And the reason I know he was in his room all night is that because he was fucking the shit of me.” For some reason Dad reacts badly to this, as does resort owner, and Johnny gets fired.

Baby/Francis is a broken girl/woman. The world has crumbled around her. Cruel World! The Swayze has driven off into the…driving rain, alone with his thoughts that take on a poignant, musical form(a song deserving of permanent adhesion in the Movie Music Hall of Fame), and Dad is so angry he infamously puts Baby….uh, somewhere out of the way.

But there may yet be one last chance for Baby to blossom. The Swayze returns, record in hand, and asks Miss Francis Houseman to “Have the Time of Her Life” while strutting her stuff in Mambo form. The audiences’ breath is held….the lift….will she be able to trust Johnny, trust herself, put aside all she knows while embracing the future in all its scariness, and take flight into Womanhood????

Ladies and Gentleman, Francis has left the building.

Erotique: It's Your Chance To Do The Hump

The Erotic Thriller: a genre extinct? The 1980s and 90s seemingly had multitudes of film execs sitting around bistro tables drinking wine spritzers and snorting lines, coming up with new ways to simultaneously skeeve-out and stimulate the Film-Going American Public. Are those grand days over? Perhaps…but fear not....much like a weathered porno mag found in the woods behind your parents’ house, that’s what cheap used videos are for: learning and reminiscing. And now, to fill your empty, cavernous need, a triple play, a ménage a trois if you will, of sex thrillers, all complete with cringe-worthy sex romps that will leave you feeling just a little bit creepy inside. Nothing illegal, not even porno, just something that is a little bit….off. Strap yourself in for a wild night of semi-deviant sex scenes featuring bizarrely matched and mostly unattractive celebs.

The Films: Dressed to Kill, Presumed Innocent, The Big Easy

Viewing order importance: It matters not.

Dressed to Kill – Brian DePalma, imagined master of the dirty sex thriller, opens with a soft-core shower scene, with Angie Dickinson giving herself a good old-fashioned, lonely-wife, nipple rub down, complete with searching camera and mournful music. She stares at the object of her affection, a disinterested husband, who shaves in the mirror, as she peers through the water-speckled shower door, rubbing a sliver of soap over all her dirty parts. Vastly gratuitous, she focuses her scrubbing bubbles solely on nips and crotch, until interrupted by a man who grabs her from behind and struggles with her. Is it a dream? Is it a fantasy?

Ah, a fantasy, as a quick cut to missionary position under the cover humping reveals, starring Angie and hubbie. The guy is seriously all business - doesn't even look up at our Ange - and he at first appears to have done a stand-up job, but the Curator suspects a fake.

Upon completion of her dissatisfactory duty, the bored house wife staggers out into the world to gaze upon some art while making a grocery list. However she ends up picking up a random fellow art lover for some afternoon adultery instead, hooking him with a sly technique involving the old "irresistible, classic beige Isotoner glove incentive,” after an elaborate interior museum flirt and chase.

From there we proceed to Taxi ride where the stranger commences with the cunnilingi, complete with driver adjusting and peering in the rear view mirror. Watching the stranger’s hand with gold bracelet remove her underthings in quite a luxurious site.

Later, back at mystery man’s pad, and “after the lovin” an urban legend horror is realized when Ange finds a Lab Result confirming mystery man’s got the VD. Of all the lousy luck….Angie splits out of there but quick, only to get murdered in the elevator of man’s building. By a transvestite. Named Michael Caine. And all this happens in the first 30 minutes.

Catch your breath and move on to:

Presumed Innocent – On the surface, the sex in this 1990 thriller isn’t so creepy. It’s got Harrison Ford, pre-most-wrinkles-and-sags, and Greta Scacchi. She’s hot. Yes, Brian Dennehy is in there, but thankfully his sex is only referenced, not shown.

But there is something about the power-hump on the Greta’s desk after she and Harry win a Child Abuse Case together that is just kind of “yicky.” Maybe it’s the graphic intensity Harrison displays as he drops his drawers, sucks a nip and powers through that stack of legal “briefs.” Maybe it is just that there is something disconcerting about Harry’s naked thrusting hip.

The creepier portions include a constantly referenced rape or not-rape crime with various suspects “fingered,” and the sleezy autopsy doctor describing how “real nice” the rape was, before the angry perp smashes her on the head. The finger of blames finally rests on Harrison, and he now must go on trial for his lover’s murder. The ewww-y-est of all moments however is not a sex scene, but is Harrison’s wife’s description of pulling her husband’s spermicided ooze out of herself and implanting it in dead Greta with a syringe. Nothing says lovin’ like something in the oven.

Panting, panting, panting and:

The Big Easy –Unease best describes the unadulterated sleeziness that permeates with Zaidigo vapors off a bed befouled by Dennis Quaid and Ellen Barkin. It is presumed that, as an actor or actress, the shooting of a “romance” scene must be (at least) somewhat uncomfortable and (likely) excruciatingly embarrassing. With that in mind, Quaid and Barkin appear to be trying to make anyone who ever sees this film as uncomfortable as they once were. Payback’s a bitch.

The first 30 minutes or so are a kind of chemistry-lacking foreplay to what seems to be one of the most awkward sex encounters of all time. After a bit of hanky-panky and various clothings are removed, Ellen claims, mid-almost coitus, she is “not very good at this,” and “can’t do this" because "I am too nervous, I can’t relax.” Well hell darlin’ how do expect a man to respond to something like that? Denny tells her “Just relax, darlin'. This is the Big Easy. Folks have a certain way o' doin' things down here.” Ummm…yeah. She is then licked and fingered in that not so secret spot by Denny as he slinks all over the sheet, licking her thigh and grunting in his over-the-top, cajon-ified, ridiculous accent. When he kisses her he looks like he is eating her face, and she appears to be probing something out of his far back wisdom tooth with her tongue. The scene is finally interrupted by a murder, but not before Denny’s ass is revealed. Ellen tells us “I’ve never had much luck with sex” to which Denny informs her that “her luck is about to change.” As is our own, as is our own.

So. Looking to seduce that special someone with your knowledge of racy, semi-grody sex scenes? Want to indulge yourself in the films your parents watched but you never got to see cause they were “too grown-up?” Do yourself up right and dirty by laying your scummy little hands on these sexy flicks. You won’t be sorry you did…..for long.

The Unsung Glory of Joe Don Baker

Joe Don Baker is a hero of a movie star. Why? Well, Joe Don is not afraid to play what he is. With rutty face in various stages of bloat and constant can of beer in hand, he is true to his essence, heroically taking on the lesser role again and again. The handsome starring role, the funny-man lead, or any sympathetic character? You will find none of these in Joe Don’s repertoire. He’ll break every rule without regret, unapologetically leave porn on the couch, and fill those size 40 pants every time, all for the good of the movie. So wave that American flag and settle your fat ass down onto your beer-stained-couch with potato chips between the cushions. Joe Don, we salute you with a triple feature!!!

The Films: Fletch, Cape Fear (1991), Mitchell

Viewing order importance: Mitchell is the finale, always

Fletch
Joe Don stars opposite funny man Chevy Chase as corrupt police Chief Captain Karlin. Who else could play the enemy in a Chevy Chase vehicle? Everyone knows that Chevy is gonna come out on top, but somebody’s got to be the bad guy. There is of course Tim Matheson, but he plays a bigot with two wives, so at least he’s getting something out of the deal. Not a whole lot of screen time here, but in the sparse moments he has, he proves his bad-guy self quickly, by taking away Chevy’s first amendment rights, threatening to kill him if he writes a certain news article, turning on his drug smuggling partner, and posing for a photograph with Tommy Lasorda. Off-screen he puts together the grandest drug smuggling scheme the City of Angels has ever seen. The corrupt police chief goes down every time in such comedic feel-good type films, but no one else could go down with the class of Joe Don. He sayeth, “Dipshit! You go back on that goddamn beach and you won't live to regret it! All right?” All right, Joe Don. All right indeed.

Cape Fear
First off, the man drinks Jim Beam and Pepto Bismol. Mixed together. There is nothing more fucking tough than that. Not to mention how soothing it is.

Second, check these quotes out:
"Think of a gun as an extension of your fist. You’re just reaching out and knockin’ a man down. Boom! Later on, we’ll go out to the woods, and shoot some trees."
AND
“Well, gee golly gosh. I sure am sorry I offended you, you white trash piece of shit.”
Here Joe Don plays a private dick, helping out the Bowden family with intimidation tactics to scary off Mr. Max Cady, and by playing a vital role in household protection services. Well, he doesn’t do a very good job, but does have some pretty great trapping and wounding ideas, like “doing a little hospital job” on someone with “two pieces of pipe and a bicycle chain.” But nothing quite beats wiring every window, door and opening in the house to a teddy bear and sitting and staring at it all night. "If the bear moves a quarter of an inch, I know if the Holy Ghost is sneaking in." Unfortunately the Jim Beam and Pepto slowed his judgment and he gets strangled with a piano wire. May he rest in peace.

Mitchell
Joe Don actually has the starring, name-sake role in Mitchell, an impressive feat for the co-stars of the Dollar Video Curator, which is why the best must be saved for last. Mitchell is a soft-bellied cop with a penchant for not letting the "rules" get in the way of solving a case, and this time he is on the busting end of a drug smuggle gone awry. The first time we see Mitchell he is passed out drunk in the back of a black and white. Under arrest? Ah hell no. Just catching a ride to the crime scene.

Some of the finer points of Mitchell: the slow speed car chase up the Hollywood Hill complete with sweet chase bass, the arguing and yelling at of some kid while on a stakeout, the kicking of an old lady out of her car, followed by that car’s explosion, a chopper dropping a gun down to Mitchell who is involved in a foot chase, followed by a yacht/chopper chase, climaxed by a leap from chopper onto yacht with fist fights, choking, and shootings.

The pièce de résistance however, is the Joe Don/Linda Evans sex scene. Linda is a prostitute, whom Joe Don first seduces by elegantly spilling beer foam on her knee. The scene consists of three repeating shots: one of them kissing, one of the two of them completely covered by, and struggling under, a sheet, and one of their feet rubbing together. These scenes are then edited by using each clip over and over in varying combinations, interrupted only by Mitchell grabbing a sixer of Schlitz with his big toe. Mid-climax we can only imagine. Then he arrests her for soliciting sex. From him.

A memorable exchange:
Linda as Greta: He lays me, then busts me.
Mitchell: Well, she asked me to.
Police Clerk: What, lay her or bust her?
Mitchell: Both!

An American hero, through and through, we celebrate Joe Don for his commitment to playing the man we all want to see. The man we all want to be. The man buying Jim Beam, Pepto and Schlitz from the corner liquor store as he hitches up his pants, winks at that little girly pumping gas across the street, and then peels out on a wet city street, hurrying home to the prostitute who lay upon his hide-a-bed couch in a den littered with empty beer cans, over flowing ashtrays and abandoned TV dinner boxes.

He kicks the apartment door in and things really start to heat up. She bolts upright, startled by the sound, and by the mighty smell of sweat-soaked testosterone, a crusty sheet wrapped around her midsection. He sexily smirks as he removes his strangling neck tie and the 15 pounds of weaponry from the small of his back, the holsters beneath his jacket, and at his ankle. A belt buckle is undone, an ottoman tripped over. A dog barks in the distance as he falls upon her alcohol saturated skin……

Rated XXX, obviously.

Miss Understood: Hitchcock’s Bad Girl Broads

Le Femme Fatale, Hollywood noir favorite, at first irresistible, sexy and wild, and then, broken, whorish, deadly. The subjugated woman, sacrificed, used. Nobody does it better than ol’ Hitch. But here we’ve got something else to contend with: serious attitude, reputation, a sense of purpose and notoriety. Of these ladies, each has two sides, one good, one bad, not so much deadly, as just plain old misunderstood. As Queen Streisand herself has elegantly demonstrated, the mirror does indeed have two faces. A reflection, herein, deserved of examination.

The Films: Notorious, North by Northwest, Psycho

Viewing order importance: As above

Notorious

Ingrid Bergman as Alicia Huberman – “On the wagon? That’s just a phase.”
Daughter of a Nazi sympathizer and known party-time girl is enlisted by US government to do some good old fashioned spying on underground Nazis in Brazil. Sauvé agent Cary Grant also has some love business to take care of, but then throws our Alicia to the wolves, accusing her of being a slut and a drunk to boot. "Once a tramp, always a tramp."

She first becomes a double agent, befriending Alexander Sebastian, Nazi turned Brazilian played by the excellent Claude Rains, who is hiding out in South America. Cary, Alicia’s only contact with the outside world, constantly accuses her of being a binge drinkin' party girl, and then tells her to dry her eyes when he makes her cry. Then he offers her up as a sacrificial wife to the bad guy. Just screw the info out of him already.

So, Alicia has no choice but to drink and fuck to prove her loyalty, assuming her bad-girl role to protect her sad broken heart. She is so reduced to her roll she tells Cary she is hung-over when she is actually dying from being poisoned. Only whence Cary pulls his puffed up, overly-proud head out of his ass does he realize the folly of his ways. Poor Alicia, between the booze, poison and screwing her thinking has been fogged. Give her a break!

North By Northwest
Eva Marie Saint as Eve Kendall – “She uses sex like some people use a fly swatter.” She at first is a seemingly bored train traveler a bit too interested in a dalliance on the wild side with a fugitive, "I'm 26 and unmarried. Now you know everything.” It turns out Eve is actually in league with the bad guys. Or is she? She goes through a whole lot of torment at the hands of Cary Grant, having really "gotten under his skin" and is accused of all kinds of nasties: whoring and lying for starters.

But once she is exposed as a "double agent" Cary can't get enough of trying to save her - putting himself on the line and even yanking her back from certain death by Mount Rushmore face. Is she redeemed in the end? Well, Cary does make an honest woman out of her by making her the fourth Mrs. Thornhill, and the viewer is then privy to her baptism by honest cock, in the form of train thrusting into tunnel. Way to go, bad girl!

Psycho
Anthony Perkins as Mother – “A boy’s best friend is his Mother.”

Now if there ever was a woman misunderstood, it's gotta be Mother. Tony Perkins's murderous feminine side is a force to be reckoned with. Anytime any sort of sexual arousal comes "up," Mother steps in and takes care of business, cause as we all know, there's nothing that kills sexual excitement quite like Mother. But calling Mother a murderer is really not quite fair. She's got a really bad image because she killed that hot blond chick in the shower, but Mother is really just Tony's idea of Mother, not how Mother was in real life. In fact, Mother was a hot-blooded lady trying to get it on with her man-meat until Tony ruined it all. So ease up on the lady. She's dead for Christsake.

Conclusion:

Obviously Cary Grant plays a fairly instrumental roll in making a woman feel like shit. And who can even imagine the effect he may have had on Mother.

Moral of the Trilogy:

Give the bad girl in your life a break today!

The Future's So Bright .....I Gotta Kill Humans

The Films: Terminator 2 vs. The Matrix

At their roots, T2 and The Matrix are essentially the same movie. The future is grim, machines have taken over, and a small band of rebel humans are attempting to take the world back, by force. With such similarities, a comparison is thus solicited: in a face off, would the Terminators beat the Machines of the Matrix? What if the good and bad guys in each film were switched? Could the Terminators beat Neo and Co.? How would John Conners and Mom fare against the Agents? What about John Conners versus Neo? Who is the more hearty insurgent? And what effect does the wearing of sunglasses have on one’s level of badassness? Let's compare, shall we?

The Machines of Terminator 2 – T2 is by far the superior of the 3 Terminator films, but also an appropriate flick to use for the purpose of comparing actual machinery. There are two options here, the old stand by and the new and improved version. How do they rate? Arnold is pretty sturdy, sort of the "old reliable" of the Terminator machines. He can take a licking, but he also has some pretty serious defects. His head, simply put, is squashable. His CPU is apparently located there, and with enough force, one can easily take him out. Yes, he may have a back-up power source, but any foe worth fighting would research these weaknesses and be ready to exploit them. The new improved Melty-Metal Terminator however, played by the ultra cool Robert Patrick, is a far more worthy adversary. His head can be squashed and reformed, no problemo. Melty-Metal Robert's only weakness seems to be a well placed foundry, which in time, the Curator is sure, he will be able to avoid in most chase scenarios.
Sunglasses all around, check.

The Machines of The Matrix - Here we essentially have a couple different types of machines; the buggish, worker machines, and the human-looking agents. For the purposes of this comparison, we will focus on solely on the human-type machines. These dudes are pretty bad ass, much like Metal Robert above. They can move way faster than humans, recover easily from injury and are basically all knowing. They designed the Matrix, and thus know its various ins and outs. How can they be beat then? Mind over matter, boys. Mind over matter. As Morpheus states, the machines are a part of the Matrix, and are thus grounded by its rules. Anyone with a bit of mind control should be able to waste these fools.
Sunglasses, check.

The Humans of Terminator 2 - The humans here are at a pretty solid disadvantage compared to the humans of the Matrix. They have no super powers, few geeky computer skills and are mostly muscle rather than brain. Sure, they have access to a lot of weaponry, some solid black market buying power, the will to be trained in a military type atmosphere, and the desire to save humanity from all out destruction, but really, they come up a bit short. All they really have working in their favor is a constant supply of speedy vehicles and a bit of luck.
Sunglasses? Nope.

The Humans of The Matrix – The few that are not sucked into the dream-world matrix are pretty solid. One or two defectors aside, as long as they can wrap their intellect around metaphors such as "the body cannot live without the mind" and "the mind makes it real," they are mostly indestructible. Enter Neo. He tops them all by learning to destroy agents by "absorption,” while his mind is completely free of all normal human restraints. First he disarms his enemy with his blank, dull-eyed stare, therefore confounding his foe into believing he is as stupid as he looks. Then he kicks a lot. Draw backs: when not plugged in, he is just a big fucking geek who knows too much about computers.
Sunglasses, check.

The Verdicts:

On the Machines: Metal Robert of T2 has the clear advantage over Arnold, as well as The Matrix agents. How so? Physically, the only way to destroy him is by melting him at extreme temperatures. He can not be absorbed, tricked, plugged into or even frozen.

On the Humans:
The Humans in T2 are lame. There is no comparison between them and Neo, even if Neo is only kicking virtual ass. All John and family have at their disposal is a huge arsenal and some stolen cars. Neo can stop bullets and fly. Case closed.

Conclusions:

1. Sunglasses directly contribute to one’s level of hardcoreness and fighting ability.

2. Melty-Metal Robert must meet Neo in a Face 2 Face grudge match. Winner takes all. The fate of the free world lay in the balance. Unfortunately for us humans, the Curator's money is on Melty-Metal Robert.

Chic vs. Hick - The Power of the Nonsexual-Homosexual Friendship

Friends. What would the world be like without that buddy you rely on? The laughter you share. The one you can always drunk dial, confess sins you wouldn't tell a priest to, or drive off a cliff with?

But will your friends kill for you? A lot? Willingly die? Maybe you haven't had a chance to put that one to the test yet. The Curator begs to question, does sex matter? Let's find out.

The Films: Thelma and Louise, Tombstone

Viewing order importance: Either will do, but recommended as above. Because the Curator says so.

Thelma and Louise: A fine example of chic-flickiness, directed by Ridley Scott. Yes, Ridley Scott, with a plethora of wonderful co-stars that the Curator will resist writing about as we are wont to sometimes do. Abusive men and monotonous jobs set these 2 off on a date with destiny. Everything packed? Well let's see, scarves, sunglasses, fishing net, gun....wait GUN? Thelma what are you doing with that? Uh oh, here comes trouble.

These ladies were just out for a bit of fun, some good Ol’ Fashioned Honky Tonk Bar Dancing fun. But it's a good thing that gun is handy when Thelma almost gets raped in the parking lot, inspiring the birth of....the Toxic-Shock Avengers!! Females on the run, and ready to take no shit. Louise is ready to kill a man with his pants around his ankles in Alabama for her friend. That takes some ovaries. So what else will a girl do for another?

Well Thelma finally gets laid proper by the torso known as Brad Pitt, but that sneak steals all of Louise's money. Fucker! So to make up for it, Thelma turns to armed robbery. Not bad, not bad. But THEN! Thelma stuffs a cop in the trunk for Louise, and they both take on the gross truck-driving tongue guy. They've officially found their crime niche, and are pretty bad ass by now. But hunted. "How many times will they have to get screwed over?" muses our Harvey Keitel, one of only 2 friendly man types in this film? In the final fateful standoff, they decide to die together, rather than be taken alive. Thelma suggests, Louise agrees, a kiss, a hand grasp and off the cliff we go. Damn, that's tough ladies.

Tombstone: Already filled with manly comments such as "I'm your huckleberry," "Skin it," "Pull out that smoke wagon," and "Wyatt Earp is my friend," one wonders how much better it can get. Let us see how far man will go for other man.

First you've got the brothers, perennial co-stars Sam Elliott and Bill Paxton, who schlep their wives out to Arizona to be with brother Wyatt, and then you've got Val Kilmer, pre-facial mole removal, and glittery with laboring sweat as the fabu Doc Holliday. And all are be-decked with mustache. We are off to a grand beginning.

It's all fun and games at the start, boys making money, bonding over barroom drinks with the wives tucked safely at home, slowly addicting themselves to Opium. But when they need a "new sheriff in town," the brothers have a rift. Co-stars feel it's their duty, but Wyatt doesn't want to get involved. He reluctantly does when the cowboys are waiting for some man-slaughter at the OK Corral. Step up, Mr. Holliday. He is always ready to die for Wyatt. When Wyatt tells him its not his concern Doc says "That is a hell of a thing for YOU to say to ME." Well.

Gun fire craziness and the battle is won, but those cowboys are out for revenge. Kill Bill, maim Sam, and the wives are out of there. That leaves Wyatt, Doc and some cowboy defectors to close this deal. When it comes to the final showdown, Wyatt knows he can't beat that crazy Ringo. To save his friend Doc pulls himself out of his lunger bed, bleeding from the mouth, and finishes that guy off with the quickest gun-pull that side of the mighty Miss. We consider this quite a feat, considering the Curator can hardly get out up out of a chair after smoking a couple cigarettes. In the end, Doc is only taken out by the TB, after sending Wyatt off to his unending happiness.

Conclusion: It doesn't appear that sex matters much in the “willing to die for your friend category.” It could be just the circumstances, or the timing. The moral is, if you have that friend, the one you think will step up, hang on tight to that sweaty, scarf-sporting, gun-toting maniac. You never know when you're gonna need them.

Gone Watchin'

The Curator is out returning some videos tapes.
Coming soon:
Men Behaving Badly
The Unsung Glory of Joe Don Baker
Miss Understood: Hitchcock's Bad Girl Broads