This being October, the month that ends with Halloweenie, I’m going to share a grisly horror story that Shrinky types out there might like to say explains my extreme dislike for a much-loved film. If you’re squeamish and prone to nightmares, skip the next sentence. Every time I hear the Giorgio Moroder synth opening I see the poor little dog who met a miserable end on the freeway outside Toledo. Begin reading again HERE: Pretty gross, huh? I think so too. In fact, now I need a little lie down and something delightfully distracting to get those dreadful images out of my head.
You might think that harrowing event is what spoiled the film for me, but you’d be wrong. Honest. It has more to do with Irene Cara’s vocals, the warehouse-dwelling welder by day, dancer by night who looked nothing like any eighteen year old I ever knew, and the fact the movie is unmitigated crap challenged only by the sheer shittiness of Fame. All that is what makes me feel ooky and squiky.
In case you haven’t guessed it, I’m talking about Flashdance and I hate Flashdance. With. A. Passion. Does that hatred Take My Breath Away, you ask? Well, yes, but not in the same so-bad-it’s-guuud way as Top Gun, or the Time of My Life cheese-filled Dirty Dancing or the uber-schlockfestive Sergent Pepper’s Lonely Heart’s Club Band (A worried-about-my-career-looking Peter Frampton! The BeeGees in the tightest pants ever! Arrowsmith’s bitchin’ cover of Come Together!). Besides the ickiness of the Toledo accident scene, perhaps Flashdance came out at a time in my life when I started noticing cliched plots and characters, and this movie is filled with them from the rich boss, the older, wiser mentor, to the nasty ex-wife. YAWN. Then there’s Alex, the heroine in Flashdance. She, and the Fame kids, looked nothing like my high school, or just out of high school classmates. My high school was populated by the weirdos, cliques, jocks, burn-outs, and ordinary kids peppered throughout Sixteen Candles. By no means do I mean Farmer Ted, Samantha Baker, Long Duk Dong, and Jake Ryan were realistic teenagers, but in the John Hughesiverse, and the realm of "teen" movies, they came closest. That said, The Breakfast Club was a total miss for me. It annoyed me, but not in the same dog horror-inducing way as Flashdance.
So then, my fair Biteyites, here comes my big fat question: what’s the movie that gave you, or gives you, a big fat NOOOOO feeling? What blockbuster is a gut buster or brain buster for you?
Since I’m feeling a little fragile now, what with all the bad memories Shrinky would suggest need to be examined in therapy, I have no choice but to gaze upon Something New, which you know means Simon Baker.