Thursday, November 25, 2010

HOME SWEET HOME (1981) - I'm thankful that, no matter how annoying the holiday is, you're at least gonna get an awesomely dumb slasher movie out of it

Here are some murders from the film. The lack of lighting during the night scenes is purely for atmospheric effect. Namely, the atmospheric feeling that you're watching people being killed in complete fucking darkness.

While we’re certainly all appreciative of the pilgrim’s efforts in settling this fine country, laying the groundwork for future strip malls from sea to shining sea, one glaring issue has passed without comment for far too long. Namely…why did they have to bullshit the Indians?

If you’re gonna wipe out Tonto and the gang for their land and resources, fine. However, when Captain Tomahawk wants to celebrate a kindling friendship with a big ass turkey, at least show him a modicum of respect and tell him to go fuck himself, letting him know that the teepee bulldozing will commence shortly. Don’t put on a fake smile and feign a friendship just so you can snag some biscuits and what have you.

Thanks to these disingenuous forefathers, once a year, I have to sit around all day surrounded by nutball relatives, trying desperately not to slit my wrists with the top of the cranberry sauce can. Unfortunately, the holiday shows no signs of stopping, even though the original spirit is all but dead. The only unique signifier left for Thanksgiving is the turkey itself, which is hardly a reason to put up with all of the hours of torture and what have you. Hell, it’s three in the morning right now; I can head down to the 24 hour grocery store and grab some microwavable shit. I don’t need a holiday to eat some goddamn turkey.

Jake Steinfeld, “Body by Jake” himself, no doubt feels the same way I do, but without all that social conditioning to hold him down. He repeatedly injects PCP directly into his tongue, which allows him to overcome that deep seeded notion that he should give a shit about other human beings. He’d gladly snap your neck or suplex the shit out of an old lady if his whimsy points him in that direction. Well, what if he was surrounded by a bunch of annoying assholes partaking in their Thanksgiving feast? Home Sweet Home has the investigative chutzpah to answer such a question.

First things first, a little old lady crosses the street, fumbling her groceries along the way. Jake comes speeding along in a stolen station wagon, too hopped up on life (and whatever PCP stands for) to bother slamming on the brakes, thereby avoid hitting this pile of dust. One shrieking bloody mess later, Jake laughs maniacally at his handiwork. If you’ve already embraced the deep end, you may as well enjoy yourself.

Boy, Home Sweet Home really takes the car trouble motif and runs with it. Father goes out to get gas for another vehicle, but, unfortunately, the battery in his jeep dies, so he happens upon a station wagon that’s been apparently abandoned because of it’s own bout of car trouble. He goes under the hood, trying to sneak the battery out, but Jake does a butt smash off the top ropes (it’s like an elbow smash, but with your ass), crushing dad’s pathetic noggin. A bit awkward maybe, but it got the job done. Mom and another girl spend much of the time driving around looking for wine, but get pulled over for speeding, the car trouble here manifesting itself in the form of the highway piggie patrol. Mom cleverly shows him her tits to get off the hook, but they soon run out of gas anyway. Unfortunately, flashing your tits cannot power an automobile, so they are stuck, at least until they happen upon a gas station and the mother can strip down to get some free unleaded (or maybe just use a credit card).

More troubling than the lack of dependable automobiles, however, is the son of the family, a mime/asshole/fake Ace Frehley triple threat. He runs around with a guitar and one of those amplifier backpacks, hurling out-of-tune honkey blues at people, just to spite their sense of tonality. He’s an annoying brat, but honestly so; a defeated weasel, hiding behind a self-concocted paintjob distancing his humanity while smothering his loneliness. Either way...please stop doing that. You’re making my ears sad.

His attempts to connect with others through music and juggling prove to be ineffective, leaving him to resort to naked honesty when he asks the married chicano if she wants to roll his proverbial tamale. He manages to overcome this suffocating societal formalism; that is, a lady whose hand is legally taken and, therefore, becomes verboten territory. When he finally brings himself to speak his mind, the other woman does not understand the language, and his spirit is thereby crushed by the proverbial fist of irony. Their only communication when she calls him a “estupido bruto”, which I think is spanish for “big dumb asshole”.

Jake finally makes short work of these turkeys (wait a second…hee hee!), cutting both the power and phone lines (even Jason knows that if you’re gonna cut one, you might as well cut both). The most interesting murder is when the mime tries to get Jake to spare his life by playing him some licks. Rather fittingly, Jake just electrocutes him with said guitar (hopefully that’ll teach him to stay out of the music business all together). Left to survive are, unsurprisingly, the only two people who aren’t assholes; final girl Jennifer and little Angel. Jennifer is the functional rock of the movie, dealing with the situation at hand the best she can, and Angel (played by Vinnessa Shaw, who later turned up in one my favorite movies, Eyes Wide Shut) applies more of a zen cutsie approach, looking adorable and saying “I wuv you!” despite all of the imminent horrors of the holiday (not to mention that steroid freak running around killing people).

Notice how they mention her being in a film at 5 years of age, but gloss over the details. I guess the media would like to whitewash the film's existence out of the historical record, but I refuse to play along.

Steroids? Oh wait, I’m thinking of Lyle Alzado. He’s the one that was on the juice. I get them confused sometimes. I always thought Jake Steinfeld starred in that wrestling sitcom Learning the Ropes with Steph from Degrassi Junior High. Silly goose, Jake is the one who injects PCP, which means he needs to be killed three separate times during the ending of a Thanksgiving slasher and still manages to survive. I, on the other hand, waddle home every year from turkey day both thoroughly defeated and five pounds plumper.

No comments:

Post a Comment