1. It starts with a dick joke.
2. Jimmy Olsen appears in drag.
3. Superman keeps the key to the Fortress of Solitude under the doormat.
4. Superman spends his spare time restoring the Titanic.
5. Superman sews himself some “traditional Kryptonian formalware.” —Rod Lott
Madcap Screencaps #12
Can you guess what movie or TV show we’re watching? We’ve turned on subtitles (when available) not to give you a clue, but to enhance that WTF effect! Leave your best guess in the comments to prove your true Flick Attackosity!
9 Deaths of the Ninja (1985)
When 9 Deaths of the Ninja hit theaters, I was 14 and, thus, too young to get in. I was visiting family in Kansas City, Mo., at the time, so while my cousin went to this, my younger brother and I made do with F/X elsewhere in the multiplex. Afterward, we asked how Ninja was, and all he could talk about was seeing this woman have her bikini ripped off underwater. He was a horny virgin at the time.
Now that I’ve seen it, the nudity is about the last thing I would impart to others, because this Philippines-lensed Crown International affair is among the decade’s hokiest action spectacles. Good ol’ Shô Kosugi plays Spike Shinobi, the strong, silent type of ninja. The James Bond-style credits sequence depicts a shirtless Kosugi slinging his sword as three ’80s skank hussies do interpretive dance around him and a cloud of dry ice.
Anyway, a tour group to Volcano Island is taken hostage by nondescript bad guys doing the bidding of the aptly named Alby the Cruel (Blackie Dammett), who’s confined to a wheelchair, wears fingerless gloves and strokes his pet monkey. His hostages — “such a pitiful group!” — include a Congressman, a girl on heart meds, and Kosugi’s two real-life sons, one of whom lights a would-be rapists’ ass on fire.
With the help of two American agents, Spike tosses his stars to take down all the villains, including the Amazonian woman named Honey Hump (Regina Richardson). There are a lot of whores in this movie, too (“My girls are sanitized, sterilized and lobotomized,” promises one madam), but no sex. Spoiler alert: In the last scene, Alby is thrown from his wheelchair, only to be trampled by horses during a polo match, then everyone enjoys lollipops. —Rod Lott
Mumsy, Nanny, Sonny & Girly (1970)
Oh, those wacky 1960s, a time in which it seemed theater and film could go way out, man. Way, way out. Maisie Mosco’s play Happy Family — which, if there is any justice in the world, wasn’t a success onstage — became a movie in 1970 that redefined the word “obscurity.” Hammer horror buffs will recognize the name of its director, Freddie Francis, but Mumsy, Nanny, Sonny & Girly is no Hammer. More of a bent, rusty nail, actually. When Britain’s National Film Theatre sponsored a Francis retrospective season, no one could locate even a videotape copy of this one.
The four title characters live in a decaying mansion somewhere in England. Sonny and Girly, both in their late teens or early 20s, go on the prowl at the local playground and pick up homeless men, drunks and hippies (remember them?); bring them home; and force them to become “New Friends” or even members of the family. When the current New Friend tries to escape, he is killed as part of The Game. Despite their chronological ages, the siblings act and talk like pre-adolescents. Mumsy and Nanny are so stereotypically pre-war Brit, they’d make Mary Poppins puke a spoonful of sugar.
Also known as simply Girly, it sounds creepy, and could be if the movie weren’t trying so hard to be mysterious in a zany sort of way. My guess is that the play was long on black comedy in the absurdist manner so popular at the time, and Francis’ tendency, naturally enough, was to play up the horrific aspects, and the two approaches to the material do not mix well at all.
The movie has a good cast of Brit character actors, led by Michael Bryant as the newest New Friend. Vanessa Howard is a very sexy Girly, in a creepy she-wants-to-cut-my-head-off kind of way. Oddly enough, my guess is that everyone involved thought they were making an art film. No cigar. —Doug Bentin
Jocks (1986)
Based on its title and its inclusion of Revenge of the Nerds’ Donald “Ogre” Gibb in its cast of protagonists, you might think that Jocks represents an attempt to subvert the ’80s teen-comedy genre by making heroes out of the characters who were typically portrayed as villains in these films.
It doesn’t. Yes, its main characters just happen to be a group of asshole athletes, but they’re a group of poor misfit asshole athletes who like to party and have a good time, and their program faces cancellation if they can’t beat the group of rich douchebag asshole athletes who only care about winning at any cost.
Our nominal hero here is “The Kid” (Scott Strader), who’s supposed to be a wildly charismatic party animal, but more closely resembles a crude, lazy, narcissistic prick with severe emotional problems. We’re led to believe he’s the glue required to keep his ragtag tennis team on their improbable winning streak, but all we actually see him do is take them out to a series of increasingly sleazier bars. At some point, future Emmy/Golden Globe-winner Mariska Hargitay shows up in order to be his love interest, but you’ll be too pre-occupied trying to figure out if she’s had any plastic surgery between then and now to notice how superfluous her character actually is.
That said, if you’re on the lookout for a desperately unfunny comedy that features a lot of poorly shot tennis; really bad acting; slumming guest stars on the level of Christopher Lee, Richard Roundtree and R.G. Armstrong; and some very dated and offensive gay jokes, you probably could still do better than Jocks. I’ll let you know if I find anything. —Allan Mott