If they had only cast Corey Hart, the ad campaign for this movie would have written itself.
Donkey: As anyone who has ever sat and listened to drawn out stoned conversations that’s nowhere near as intelligent as its participants seem to think can tell you, the subject of aliens can make a fantastic barometer of the human imagination. With no hard evidence of their existence to speak of, any discussion on the subject comes down to theory and conjecture. And while common sense coupled with an educational background only slightly more impressive than that of an irregular can of tomato soup dictates that with a universe anywhere near the size we believe it to be, life almost certainly exists somewhere else other than Earth in one form or another, what that life looks like is where things start to get interesting. If you subscribe to Star Trek’s remarkably uninspired view of reality, then all forms of extraterrestrial existence basically boil down to humankind, separated only by the severity of chemical fire that took place on the given species’ forehead. But if that’s not to your fancy, there’s always the E.T. outlook on the cosmos, where aliens are freaky phallic-shaped turd piles who have been sent across space and time to revitalize our love of peanut-based snack foods while simultaneously annihilating the integrity of our video game industry. But no matter what face and subsequent forehead you choose to apply to the unknown, one area where little imagination is used is the issue of their intent, as with very few exceptions the prevailing belief is that alien visitors would have their way with us like we were Jodie Foster on a pinball machine. There are two reasons for this indisputable logic. First, any alien race that visits Earth will quite simply be better than us, making it impossible to believe that we would be anything but completely at their mercy. After all, they will have managed to travel millions of miles and faced countless untold logistical perils to be here, whereas we’re fascinated when someone slaps a fucking paper towel on a stick and calls it a Swiffer. Seriously, anyone who has ever watched The Housewives Of Screeching Cunt County knows that we’re a species begging to be subjugated. And secondly, you know that if our positions were reversed, complete and total domination is exactly what we would deliver to them. As evolved as we may think we are, man’s first instinct when he sees something new usually tends to eventually break down to one eternal question: “I wonder if I could eat or fuck that thing?” So needless to say, alien interaction will likely be painful for us all. And if you happen to disagree, go right ahead and find yourself a Native American and ask him how exciting and prosperous it is to meet new friends from faraway places.
Donkey: Imagine one day that you wake up and realize that the world around you isn’t what it seems. You discover that you’ve been living a lie your entire life, and that your very reality has been controlled and manipulated by another race of beings for reasons you don’t understand. Then imagine that while you think you’re completely alone in this cold new reality, you soon discover that you have a capable, bald black dude for a sidekick and a small group of freedom fighters who see the truth and are willing to fight along side you. If you happened to be picturing yourself stuck in The Matrix and reciting your favorite lines from Bill And Ted’s Bogus Journey, you’re not alone. But as it turns out, in this case you’re not actually being controlled by machines within virtual reality, but instead you’re being blinded by aliens whom are living among us. They barrage us with subliminal and hidden messages all for the purpose of…um…well that’s not quite clear. But obviously their motives aren’t exactly going to stand up and cook me a delicious ham dinner, so whatever they are, they can’t be good. Yes, They Live is kind of like The Matrix if you take out the action, the special effects, the story, the point and replace it with 1987′s second or third hottest wrestling sensation. Sound exciting yet? Count me in!
The Case for Greatness (aka The Lowlights):
Exhibit A: In A World Where Hulkamania Has Run Wild, Who Will Prevent Hulkamania From Running Over You?
All these job postings and not a single one calling for a guy who can pile drive a midget. What are the odds?!
Donkey: As so many of the finest tales are ought to do, our film this week begins with a lone figure making his way into a city, strolling casually down a set of train tracks. We don’t know who his is or where he came from, but the music playing during the scene coupled with the pack over his shoulders tells us that he’s down on his luck, which therefore naturally means that it’s a safe bet that this unassuming drifter is going to be some manner of champion who eventually saves us all. So who is he? Richard Kimball? Bill Bixby? The Littlest Hobo? Nay: Rowdy Roddy Piper. Yes, to fill the role of the average man turned reluctant hero, John Carpenter chose a walking bicep who rose to fame by performing in a glorified soap opera about choreographed hugging between sweaty, shouting, mostly-naked men. Ah yes…that old tale. If that’s not a story that all of us common men share, I don’t know what is. After a few opening shots of him strolling along a highway, which is an accomplishment in and of itself since he’s wearing jeans so goddamn tight that I’m pretty sure I could give him an official sperm count just watching the film, Roddy finally makes his way into the city. With no time to lose, he heads straight to an unemployment office to look for a job, only to be turned away by an old bureaucrat that couldn’t have seemed less sympathetic to his plight if he had shown up to register an official complaint that his sweet mullet was getting him entirely too much poon. Undeterred, The Rowdy One wanders back out into the streets again and takes matters into his own meaty, corned beef scented paws. After a night spent next to a flaming barrel, watching through a window as some chick on a television practically masturbates while extolling how great life is when you’re famous, we reach the next day where the Hot Rod wanders up to a construction site and asks the foreman if they happen to be interested in employing a man who undoubtedly smells like cheese and flaming garbage to help lay concrete, do some spot welding, or put unsuspecting victims into a figure four leg lock. Obviously unable to resist a sweet offer like that, the foreman hires Rowdy and moments later he ends up shirtless, doing some random digging that, like Arnie in Total Recall or almost any movie that shows construction for that matter, appears to be little more than pointless busy work.
After a hard day of back-breaking and exceptionally inefficient labor, The Rodster once again faces the dilemma of where he’ll find a man’s most basic needs that night: hot food, a hot shower, and a Hot Carl. As he ponders his options, his foreman tells him to fuck off, making it clear that there’s no sleeping on the site allowed So things once again seem bleak for our hero. But just then a random black coworker named Frank offers to take him over to a nearby shanty town where he explains that there are showers and hot food for all. Sadly, no mention of Hot Carls, though. Still, two out of three ain’t bad, so after needlessly responding like a dick and basically pissing in the man’s face for being polite, Rowdy Roddy nevertheless ends up following his new found companion to the shelter where they bond over the finest hobo dinner that pity can buy. They share some obligatory small talk about his wife and kids back in Detroit before Frank lets loose on the crazy and begins to rant on about corporate tycoons and how unfair life is. Ever the optimist, Roddy declines to join in and states that he believes in America. He works hard and follows the rules and because of that, he knows that everything will come to him in time. And just then, somewhere, somehow, Uncle Sam stopped curb stomping brown people long enough to blow it in his pants.
I think I'm ready to take the blue pill now.
Exhibit B: Weird Shit Happens When The Homeless Gather – Who Would Have Guessed?
Oh, I can feel it coming in the air tonight...hold on...
As the day turns to evening once again, The Piperman begins to notice a series of strange things happening all around him. And we’re not talking things that can be just casually dismissed on account of it being the 80′s, like acid wash jeans, New Coke, or the general public still being quite aware of whom Mark Linn-Baker is, but some genuinely freaky shit. Our hero soon learns that there really is no such thing as a free lunch, even if that lunch happens to be a gruel made mostly from creamed corn and horse testicles. While people are sitting around in the middle of the shanty town, watching a TV perched on a crate outside that’s forcing me to wonder where the fuck they’re getting a cable feed from, a pirate signal hacks into the regular programming. Suddenly the homeless audience is faced with a random bearded dude who begins warning everyone that they’re all being oppressed. According to this dude, whom in no way seems like someone’s insane reclusive uncle who has been trading rimjobs for spare electronic parts down at the local Radio Shack, “They” are safe as long as they are not discovered. To maintain their secrecy, “They” keep us asleep, selfish, and sedated. Then just as the pirate signal cuts out and the regular cable signal returns, Rowdy notices a black street preacher and one of the key organizers in the camp, whom we’ll refer to as Gamey Phillips because I can’t be bothered to remember what his real name is, rush across the street into a small church. Roddy finds Gamey the next morning and asks what he and the preacher were he doing over there until four in the morning the previous night, catching the man off guard and causing Gamey to have to dance around his question with the grace of a club footed wino in an industrial wind tunnel. But his attempts to allay any lingering doubts that Roddy might have prove spectacularly futile seconds later, as the pirate broadcast once again hacks into a nearby TV for only a few moments, allowing the same voice of doom to plead that “the signal must be shut off at the source”, before cutting out again a moment later and causing Gamey Phillips to once again run off to the church as Roddy watches. Anyone with at least one functioning eye that wasn’t crusted shut by dried monkey semen could see that something fucked up is going on at this point, so Roddy follows across the street to with the mostly finely tuned sleuthing skills this side of a Junior Detective Set or a Bazooka Joe Decoder Ring. He’s greeted with the sound of a gospel choir singing as he approaches, but once inside the church he discovers that that he’s hearing a recording. The place is empty. Wondering what the hell he’s stumbled onto, the Pipemaster continues to investigate until he finds a secret door, on the other side of which he can hear Gamey Phillips and a group of men discussing their pirate TV signal. But before he can hear too many details of their conversation, the Hot Rod gets busted by the blind preacher who promptly finger-rapes his face with such ferocity that even I feel like having a cigarette once he’s done. Rowdy hastily retreats from the handicapped molesting, then returns to share his discovery and curiosity of what’s really going on with his pal Frank, who tells him resolutely that this situation is a lot like a hooker that uses her own puss as lubricant: it’s just best to just walk away and leave it alone.
What are we doing over there?! Well...um...I...uh....(fart)
It turns out that the circle jerk in the nearby church has attracted more than one wrestler’s attention. As night closes once again, Roddy maintains his surveillance from across the street when he suddenly spots a helicopter looming just above them. And he’s not the only aware of its presence, as a group of people come running out of the church and immediately take off in their cars just before the blind preacher, the creepy uncle pirate broadcaster, and Gamey Phillips wander out as well. They make it across the street and into the hobo camp just before cops begin to swarm. But as the shanty residents watch from across the street with mild curiosity as the church is ransacked, riot cops show up and turn on them with night sticks, shotguns, and a bulldozer, carrying out a swift demolition of the hobo tent city and mercilessly beating anyone that they come across. Roddy and Frank wander around observing it all with what almost seems like detached amusement before eventually joining the rest of the vagrants fleeing into the night.
They may take our lives, but they'll never take...OUR FREEDOM...to poop in a garbage can.
Exhibit C: Close Encounters Of The Turd Kind
Roddy hesitates as even he knows that black just doesn't go with flannel and filth.
We return again the next morning as the Rowdy One and a few others wander around the rubble of the demolished hobo village, scrounging for any items that are merely shit stained rather than destroyed beyond repair. Unable to suppress his curiosity, Roddy wanders over to the church across the street only to find it empty once again. After kicking in the same secret door that he found on his previous visit, he makes a very simple discovery that will change his life forever in the form of a nondescript cardboard box. Figuring that it’s either housing something of monumental importance or possibly a stack of hidden nudie mags, he grabs it and runs like hell until stumbling into an alley a safe distance away. While mentally prepping himself to give birth to a steaming batch of knuckle babies, he rips the box open to discover that it’s full of sunglasses and stylish ones at that. These are the best dollar store black plastic sun glasses that food stamps can buy. Still, free shit is free shit so he keeps a pair for himself before deciding to hide the box out of sight. With the exact level of intelligence that you would expect from a man who has gotten into headbutting contests with the canvas countless times, he decides that the best place to stash the box is in a garbage can under a wad of trash. Apparently the possibility that either this trash will be emptied at some point, or very likely rummaged through seeing as it’s about 30 feet from a flock of homeless people, doesn’t quite register as a concern. So with that, he dons his new set of sweet shades, strolls out of the alley, and discovers a whole new world.
Microsoft's new ad campaign is rather aggressive, but somewhat appropriate.
As Rowdy Roddy Pooper makes his way down a sidewalk, the first thing he notices is that when he looks through this middle finger to fashion that he has strapped to his face, his vision shifts entirely to grayscale. Alarming sure, but this could be a blessing in disguise. I remember the neon colors of the 80′s and, in retrospect, would welcome anything that spared my optic sensors from their resulting retinal-incinerating. But that’s just the beginning of the weird shit that he finds himself treading in, as he also begins to see things that aren’t there when he takes the glasses off, beginning with a nearby billboard. When he looks at it using only his own eyes, he sees just another advertisement for a home computer system so powerful that it could probably be eclipsed by a calculator watch. But through the lenses of his new shades, he sees that same billboard actually displays the single word, “OBEY”. Looking further down the road, he sees another billboard that, through his new found sunglasses, says MARRY AND REPRODUCE. That’s not really indicative of anything, though, as that could be a either subliminal message or an advertisement paid for by the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. But it’s at this point that he notices that these supposedly hidden messages are everywhere, forming a barrage of subliminal commands. This isn’t restricted only to signs either, as he wanders up to a newsstand to find that even magazines consist merely of page after page of commands. My personal favorite of his discoveries comes when he looks down at his money to find that the bills are just slips of paper which says THIS IS YOUR GOD. I haven’t heard a more profound truth in an 80′s movie since “Sloth love Chunk!”
This isn't actually a magazine of subliminal messages, but the official Republican National Party news flier.
Is it wrong that I think the skeleton with a fine head of hair is more attractive?
The strange messages embedded around him are startling enough, but when Roddy finally looks up at a nearby stranger through his black plastic goggles of awesomeness, the point of the film is finally revealed. Although the naked eye shows him to be a homely, unremarkable yuppie with the best haircut that a Weed Whacker and a quart of malt liquor can provide, peering at the man through Roddy’s mystic glasses of fortune reveals the man to be an alien. Well, more specifically he’s a walking skeleton with googly eyeballs and a complexion that could be best described as “not quite Oxy-clean”. It’s pretty fucked up, and at first the King of the Ring doesn’t know what to make of it. But after standing in stunned disbelief for a few moments, he looks around and sees that things are far more bizarre than he was could have possibly imagined as almost half the people around him appear to be the same Halloween rejects. Like a recurring Lou Dobbs nightmare, there are literally aliens everywhere. Wandering around in complete bewilderment, Roddy ends up in a convenience store where he stops to watch an alien disguised as a politician giving a speech on television when he gets bumped into by a nearby old woman. As she says, “excuse me”, he sees that she is another of the many aliens around him, so at this point, he does what every rational person would do in his situation and goes completely goddamn insane. He begins by telling this old lady that she looks like her “head fell on the cheese dip back in 1957″, which couldn’t make less goddamn sense if he ended the sentence by barfing up nearly solved Rubik’s Cube, before turning to another woman in exasperation. He declares her to be okay, but motioning back to the alien, says, “this one…she’s real fucking ugly.” Everyone around him recoils from this random outburst in shock, but Rod has only begun his ranting, as he continues on about how he can see this woman differently with his sunglasses on. Finally, the old broad realizes what he’s saying and begins speaking into a wrist communicator, saying that she’s got “one that can see”. Suddenly Rowdy Roddy Pimpstick realizes that all the aliens around him in the store have turned and are walking towards him, leaving him no choice but to just get the fuck out of there.
He's 5 foot 8...blonde hair...smells like rancid chicken in a used diaper.
As soon as he emerges back out onto the street, Roddy is pushed directly into an alley by two cops who are, of course, aliens. They try to take him away quietly by assuring him that what he’s seeing is no big deal, that they can work all of this out. But of course, Rowdy Roddy Piper wasn’t exactly cast because of his pacifism, so he leaps into action and delivers a beat-down of epic proportions that looks like it should involve King Kong Bundy. Honestly, up until this point if I didn’t actually know who Roddy Piper was already, I wouldn’t’ have necessarily guessed that he was a wrestling sensation. But as soon as this scene rears its head, there can be no doubts. And to really give the final fuck you to any possibility of going back to a normal life after this point, Roddy finishes his tirade by blowing both cops away with one of their own guns. That’s right bitches, as the Queen Mother is oft to say, it is so fucking on. Roddy prepares himself by grabbing a shotgun and a night stick out of the cops’ car and tries to dash away, but ends up having to duck into a bank. Of course, as all the patrons of that bank begin to notice a man walk in who looks like he’s armed well enough to carry out a South American presidential coup standing in the doorway, they freeze and begin murmuring amongst themselves. When it dawns on the Rod of Destiny a few seconds later that they all believe he’s robbing the bank, he straightens himself and, for no apparent reason, delivers one of the greatest lines in cinematic history marking what is easily the most famous moment from this film:
No, seriously, who has gum? I just ate garbage for lunch.
Piper: “I have come here to chew bubble gum and kick ass…and I’m all out of bubble gum.”
Brilliant. But as goddamn epic as that is, I have no idea what the fuck he’s talking about. And like Woody Allen at a Neo Nazi rally, clarity won’t be showing its face any time soon as things explode at that point when a security guard takes a shot at him, only to have Roddy turn and casually blow him the fuck away. But he doesn’t stop there; no, the Rodded Wonder then starts shooting at random, killing any civilian alien that is within view, and with very little regard to the innocent humans that happen to be in the way. So even though this scene ends with Roddy fleeing the bank after the revelation that the aliens have teleportation devices in their wristwatches and flying robot sentries patrolling the streets, those issues pale in the face of his blossoming erection for violence. Within 5 minutes, he literally goes from down on his luck every man to cold blooded executioner who would rather give you a 12 gauge skull fucking than a smile.
This chick's voice is so gravely that she must have started smoking an entire Phillip Morris tobacco processing facility per day when she was 3.
Now that Roddy has gone He-man on our asses, it’s only appropriate that the final main character that the movie introduces us to at this point is Meg Foster, whom the astute reader would undoubtedly recognize as Evil Lyn from Masters Of The Universe. She enters the film walking to her parked car after work when she is suddenly car jacked by Rowdy Roddy, who is desperately trying to escape the police. With the very little choice that comes when staring down the business end of a gun, she obeys his commands and drives him back to her apartment, giving him a quiet place to regroup and plan his next move. Once there he tries explaining the lunacy of his glasses and the world they have revealed to him, but she’ll have none of it, as listening to his story would entail taking even a single moment away from dropping very obvious hints that he can feel free to rape her any time. Eventually she introduces herself as Holly Thompson, an executive at a local TV station. Seeing this as an amazing coincidence, the Rodmaster gets excited and tries to explain something about a hypnotic signal over the television feed. But his attempts to persuade her to listen to his ramblings are met with a very well-argued bottle to the back of the head, launching him out of a window where he falls about 3 stories to the ground below. As she calls the cops, he stumbles away, leaving his glasses behind with what is most likely a large percentage of his intestinal tract.
Exhibit D: When Shit Goes Down, It’s Time To Go Tag Team
After yet another night spent in an alley, assuring us that by now this guy must smell fucking terrific, Rowdy Roddy Pimpstick begins to realize that he won’t survive on his own and that there’s only one man that he can trust. So the next morning he stumbles back to the construction site and finds Frank, who is none too pleased to see him now that he’s a wanted killer. Roddy tries to tell him about the crazy shit that has happened, but Frank wants nothing to do with it. Alone, dejected and painfully aware that no one will ever believe his ranting without proof, Roddy heads back to the trash can in the alley where he had hid the box in the first place, hoping to snag another pair of the magic glasses. But once he reaches the trash can he realizes that – holy shit! – someone emptied it. Ridiculously dumb fucking luck is on his side though, as he looks up to see a garbage truck is sitting just down the alley, presumably having just collected its load. So while the garbage men argue over something retarded like who gets to eat the semi-rancid leftover Chinese food take out that they found, he jumps into the back and begins to sift around until eventually he finds the box of glasses. Before he can make his escape, however, the truck suddenly lurches into motion and dumps him along with its entire load of garbage back out onto the street before pulling away and leaving it all behind without so much as looking back, which doesn’t make any goddamn sense.
If these really were city workers driving this truck, there would be at least 4 more of them just standing and watching the others not working.
As Rowdy Roddy Pampers climbs out of the trash pile, box of magical sunglasses in hand, his moment of redemption is served to him on a silver platter. Despite not having any possible way of knowing that he count find Roddy there, Frank suddenly shows up in the alley with a week’s pay in hand, offering it as a sympathy parting gift. Roddy responds by of course demanding that Frank puts on the glasses and see the truth. Frank refuses, so the Rowdy One realizes that he’s going to have to make him see the truth by force, thus beginning one of the longest goddamn fight scenes known to man. It’s goddamn crazy. They two of them beat the shit out of each other for almost 15 straight minutes, featuring five straight lunging knees to Roddy’s balls and a mandatory ridiculous wrestling move, until Rodimus Prime finally forces the glasses onto Frank the Tank’s face. After a few seconds, Frank reacts to this new reality exactly as expected, prompting Roddy to utter, “Brother, life’s a bitch and she’s back in heat.” Wait…what? What the fuck does that mean? Who wrote this screenplay?
Left: Wrestling skills galore. Right: Lunging crotch slams. Not Pictured: Entertainment of any kind.
Exhibit E: We’re Not Alone. Until Everyone Gets Killed, That Is. And They Yeah, I Guess We Are Alone.
Two men check into a hotel looking like this? It's a safe bet that you can sum up their visit in two words: angry sex.
Once united not only by exposure to the secret world around them but also in appearance, as they both look like they got into a fistfight with a grizzly bear after touching its sister inappropriately, Roddy and Frank decide to lay low for a while so that they can regroup. They check into a shitty hotel and settle down for an evening of deep philosophical discussion, with topics ranging from where “They” came from, how long “They” have been there, and how “They” get that soft flowing caramel in a Caramilk bar. After exercising a level of reasoning so painfully slow that you can literally hear the gerbils turning the wheels in their head, the two men decide that they can’t be the only ones who know about their alien overlords. After all, someone had to have made these horrendous glasses. So having established nothing but the obvious, they end the night recounting heartwarming tales, such as Roddy talking about his abusive father almost killing him, which prompts him to concluding that “there’s going to be hell to pay” because he “ain’t daddy’s little boy no more”. Ominous. Vague and more than slightly off topic, but ominous nonetheless.
Feel free to grab a gun, an alien wristwatch, and sign up for our beer league softball team.
The next day, as Frank returns from running to the grocery store to refuel on Frankenberry, light beer, and soiled preteen panties, our old friend Gamey Phillips, the organizer of the hobo village, shows up on their doorstep. Knowing that they’ve been enlightened to the truth, he invites them to a meeting that night hoping that they’ll join either join a resistance movement or at least stick around to hear his speech on how fun it can be to peddle exciting new Amway products. Seduced by the thought of no longer having to hide in the shadows and pass the time giving one another rusty trombones, the pair agrees and shows up at the designated site to join the small group of about 50 people. As the meeting begins, they’re all given new fancy contact lenses in place of the sunglasses, making their vision of truth slightly more subtle and significantly less of an assault on fashion. As Franky and the Rod try to slap these things onto their eyeballs like they’re pounding out stale pizza dough, it becomes quite obvious that they both have about as much experience with contacts as they do with surgically separating Siamese twins. The fabulous prizes don’t end there, though, as moments later they’re issued guns and the stolen alien wristwatches when they’re asked to help lead an assault team. The meeting then takes off into an argument about the methods that they should employ to face the alien horde and free the world. But just as it seems like the movie is about to devolve into a city council subcommittee meeting, Evil Lyn strides into frame and declares that the TV station that she works for is clear, that the alien signal must be coming from somewhere else. She and Roddy exchange a look before he walks over to greet her and undoubtedly thank her for dropping him several stories out a window when she begins to apologize profusely. But just as this awkward reunion seems to be reaching full climax and threatens to spray love pudding all over their stomachs, the wall behind them suddenly explodes and cops begin to pour in, guns blazing.
Ha ha! I've clearly never shot a gun before! Woo!
While their new found companions fall dead around them, Roddy, Frank, and Evil Lyn manage to make it out alive only to find themselves in the middle of a gun battle in the streets. Roddy leads Frank into a nearby alley while fighting off the alien police with reckless abandon, firing an assault rifle using only one arm like a complete jackass. Eventually they realize that the inherent downside to their strategy is that they’re fucking cornered, they desperately search for another way out as cops slowly start to move in. But just when it looks like our adventure will come to a startlingly realistic end, Frank manages to somehow fiddle with his alien wristwatch in a way that causes it to open a mystery portal in the ground. Not bothering to question their luck, despite not having a clue as to where they’re going, that jump down through the opening just before it closes behind them only to find themselves in a tunnel system beneath the city.
Blindly praying that each corner they round won’t bring them face to face with their ultimate doom but rather reinforcements in the form of Corey Feldman in a green rubber suit, Frank and Rowdy Roddy Penis Pump run through the underground tunnel system until they find something far more retarded than anyone could have imagined. Without any warning, they stumble into a fancy dinner party. Yes, that’s right: a formal affair with full catering…underground. Unnoticed, because apparently this secret alien meeting with the rich human conspirators who facilitate their existence has security that rivals the board game section of your local Toys R Us, our heroes wander right in and stop to calmly listen to the extraterrestrial agenda. But after a few moments, they’re finally greeted by what is apparently an old friend. I quite literally had to go back over this movie 3 times to see who the hell he is, but it turns out this guy, whom we’ll call Hot Chili Peterson was a resident hobo in their long lost hobo village whom had maybe one fucking line before this point. But regardless, he has apparently cleaned up and bought in with the enemy, unaware that no matter who you swear allegiance to, it will take months of bathing to rid himself of that compost and ass smell that we like to call “hobo fresh”. Thinking that Frank and Roddy have similarly betrayed humanity, he treats them like new recruits and shows them around the underground complex.
Wow. The Ninja Turtles have done a lot of renovating.
Remember me? How about now? No? Yeah, me neither.
There are two main points of interest in their tour, the first of which is a transport station that the aliens use to rocket through the cosmos between the Earth and their home planet. This chamber has a direct view into outer space, showing a distant planet, which is awesome when you stop to consider that a moment ago they were supposed to be in an underground complex. The second stop is the control room for the alien signal that they broadcast over the airwaves, which comes complete with a news studio. Suddenly Fox News makes a whole lot more sense. And this last discovery is just too good to hide the erections that it’s giving them, which of course reveals them to be insurgents much to the protests of Hot Chili Peterson, who tries to convince them just to play along and join him in living the good life. But before the dynamic duo can give him their response in the form of a led powered lobotomy, a guard wanders into the room an interrupts them, giving HCP a chance to use his alien wristwatch to escape. That’s the least of their concerns at the moment, though. In the belly of the beast and apparently alone in their quest to save the world, our two heroes decide to go ape shit, running around from room to room blasting any alien they come across. Working their way through what now appears to be a regular office building, they deduce that the signal must be pumped out on the roof, so they decide to head in that direction. As luck would have it, on their way up they run into Holly. But as Roddy runs ahead in renewed excitement, Holly puts a gun to Frank’s head and kills him. Meanwhile Roddy finally makes it to the roof where he finds the transmitter, only to turn and find Holly holding him at gunpoint. She calmly states that he can’t win, and Roddy’s response once again comes in the response of a semi-automatic scalp massage. Once he’s disposed of his last obstacle, he turns to blast the transmitter just as an alien security force flies onto the scene in a helicopter and begins firing. But just before Roddy is struck by their gunfire, the transmitter goes up in a spectacular explosion. In his moment of ultimate triumph, Rowdy Roddy Pant Stain does what all of us would do and gives the explosion the finger. Their facade ruined, as apparently this signal is what was keeping every single alien and subliminal message hidden, the movie then closes with everyone finally seeing the aliens for what they are. And as any good action movie would do, the film ends on a titty shot where some chick is slowly riding a dude, just to look down and see that it’s an alien. Enjoy the space herpes, lady.
There's not enough penicillin and crab shampoo in the world after seeing this.
Donkey: I actually like John Carpenter movies. The Thing, Prince Of Darkness, Big Trouble In Little China, In The Mouth Of Madness…all quality films. But on this movie I’m truly torn. On the one hand it’s not nearly as good as his others, but on the other hand its not a terrible movie either. So like many before it, this movie just can’t deliver the comic genius of epic failure that goes hand in hand with so many true Shitty Movie Night classics. On the plus side, Roddy Piper turned out to be a surprisingly decent action star who delivered some incredible lines that wouldn’t make less sense if they were scrolled in dookie on a toilet stall wall. But even this can’t save a movie featuring aliens that seem much less threatening than the corporate entities that actually do control our lives. I give this three stories of plummeting hilarity out of five sticks of violence preventing bubble gum.
What We Learned:
Donkey: Seriously, sunglasses are bad ass. Whether it’s revealing the cold, hard truths of the universe or tapping into the ultimate fighting power, ala DOA: Dead Or Alive, they are easily the most powerful accessory available to humankind. Well, except for maybe the ascot.
Don’t forget to check back every Sunday for a new fresh review! Next week shittymovienight.com presents: a whimsical look at what is quite literally an explosive combination of aliens and drug dealers, all under the unblinking, unfeeling, unemotive eye of Dolph Lundgren in…I COME IN PEACE.
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