In an attempt to beef up this blog's appearance before I actually tell anyone about its existence, and also to relive some of my wacky antics over on MySpace, I am archiving all of my old posts over here at The Slog.
This is probably the most "me" of all my posts. It's convoluted, strange, discursive, and combines laziness and "trying too hard" in paradoxical ways. Plus, it has a paean to Dick Miller, and a slam on Christopher Hitchens.
It's also the debut of my exceptionally confusing philosophy, Sincere IronyTM, which is the culmination of a lifetime of giving half-assed presentations of half-baked ideas (The Supremacy of Ghostbusters, The Nonexistence of Madagascar, The Godhood of David Bowie, etc.)
Strap yourself in for my rootin'-ist, tootin'est, footnotiest adventure to date.
[Originally posted on May 17th, 2007]
The Dark Underbelly of the 80s - Part One, Section BSINCERE IRONYTM AND THE NATURE OF GOOD AND EVIL
Anyone who sees the title above knows I could only be writing about one topic: Gremlins.
That's right, folks. My own personal Chinese Democracy, "The Dark Underbelly of the 80s - Part One, Section B, Movies That Begin With G (continued)" has arrived. And not a second too late, as our culture needs its soothing balm. Already, the Beatification of professional douchebag huckster/anti-Semitic elephant seal/decomposing corpse Jerry Falwell has begun. Any society whose news media can describe that bargain-bin racist carnival barker as, at worst, a "polarizing figure" is on a rocket sled to hell. And when the only pundit on CNN who speaks with half a brain about how much of a conniving toad that man was is pompous asshead Christopher Hitchins1, then we are2 in deep trouble (Fig. 1).
Fig. 1: Asshead.
But I digress.
Like all 80s movies, Gremlins posits a bleak and terrifying worldview. Unlike Ghostbusters, whose Lovecraftian scope is the vast and uncaring universe run by elder gods whose reign of unfocused terror (Fig. 2) is abetted by the vast and uncaring bureaucracy on earth, as embodied by a bearded man with no dick3, the enemy in Gremlins is the evil elements of our own culture. We are hell-bent on our own destruction here in the West. If September 11th has taught us anything4, it's that jaded, hipster irony is insufficient to stem the forces of evil, doubt, and televangelism in our world. The only thing that can defend us from these elements is Sincere IronyTM.
Fig. 2: Cthulhu.
To take the long way to my argument: recently, I have been a fringe participant in numerous online discussions on the nature of faith, religion, and how that relates to the Boston Red Sox and the drumming ability of Terry Chimes (do not question this – suffice to say that Deep Clash TheoryTM is a broad and all-encompassing area of debate). The general consensus reached is that faith is genuine, it must be held in concert with doubt. For certainly and the belief in finite answers is theologically untenable, and reveals the non-doubting believer5 to be an intellectual coward6. Sincere IronyTM operates under similar lines as genuine faith.
Fig. 3: Way better than Apocalypse Now.
Simply put, Sincere IronyTM is a genuine love of the otherwise indefensible. It's watching Spider-Baby because you think it is a genuinely good movie, while being aware that it's also exploitive trash. It's being a dyed-in-the-wool baseball fan while hating jocks. It's believing with all your heart that Ed Wood is a better director than Francis Ford Coppola (who honestly peaked with Dementia-13) (Fig. 3). It's listening to Wesley Willis and genuinely believing he saved Rock'n'Roll while being aware that in the long run the majority of his "fans" are patronizing jackasses, and that you were too the first time you heard him. It's arguing from the heart that the Spice Girls are more genuinely punk and less contrived than the Sex Pistols. It's B-movies, outsider culture, primitivism, and junk food. It's basically everything the Cramps have ever done. It's Orwellian Doublethink for a new generation not afraid to create a reality in opposition to what we're being force fed by Sinister Outside Forces7.
And its Messiah is Dick Miller. (Fig. 4)
Dick Miller is the lynchpin of Sincere IronyTM. Like the Danube snaking its way through Europe, he snakes his way through All That Is Right About Pop Culture. He is Mr. Futterman. He is the cop at the end of Rock'n'Roll High School. He is the guy who realizes Audrey, Jr. is a big deal in The Little Shop of Horrors (not the musical, so stop checking imdb now). He is WALTER-FREAKING-PAISLEY8, for Chrissakes. He is the Alpha and the Omega of Movies Decent People Need To See To Be Complete Human Beings. And he isn't flashy about it. He's not some trust-fund crybaby. He's working class. He's blue collar. He's probably a great guy to have a beer with. Every time he gets a part in a film, an angel gets a Ferrari. Of course, that self-same angel probably rolls it, but Dick gets pretty steady work, so there's another Ferrari on the way, Gabriel.
Fig. 4: Our Lord and Savior.
Gremlins posits our Dick (and the worldview he represents) against the forces of evil. And to the observant, that isn't the Mogwai, even if they have eaten after midnight. The forces of evil in this movie are the bland and uncaring modern world, full of hateful machines, alcoholic cops, and Mrs. Deagle.
Mrs. Deagle is perhaps the finest example of what is wrong with America. Miserly, cruel, and humorless, she embodies all of the pettiness of crass consumer society9. She lives to wreak havoc and revenge on Billy Peltzer for the twin crimes of youth and dog-ownership. She is the modern (well '80s modern) incarnation of Raskolnikov's pawnbroker. As a villain, she reigns over such lesser film heavies (Fig. 5) as Ivan Drago, Cruella DeVil, and Adolf Hitler10. Actually, footnote 10 is more on point than I meant it to be, as Mrs. Deagle is very analogous to the Nazis in the first and third (or "good") Indiana Jones movies: you can kill them without arousing any pity.
Fig. 5: The Vienna Boys Choir.
The death of Mrs. Deagle11 is one of the oddest of film anomalies. In an ostensible kids movie, a sad and pathetic old woman in a house full of cats is systematically taunted, then launched out of a window with cannon-like force by a motorized chair (thus indirectly saving the Peltzer homestead). This should be seen as a heartless act of depravity, but instead seems delightful and justified. If anything, the gremlins themselves are acting as agents of righteous vengeance (much like the mythical Furies, in their guise as the Eumenides, or Kindly Ones – but with more kickass mohawks). I don't know anyone who grieves over the sad demise of Mrs. Deagle. But if I ever meet someone who does, I will know that they are, at best, a pussy12.
Other victims of the gremlins' rampages include the cold, analytical science teacher who takes secret delight in tormenting his test subjects, the alcoholic cops who pervert their promise to serve and protect the community, and Corey Feldman (for obvious reasons). In fact, Corey (Fig. 6) is largely to blame for the nightmare occurring to Kingston Falls, and should be fired out of a cannon-chair himself. Just because…
Fig. 6: War Criminal
Back on topic:
We are all slaves to our modern devices. Gremlins practically screams this at us. All it takes is a hideous army of reptilian saboteurs to render our orderly society a chaotic nightmare. During Christmas no less! This supposed time of brotherly love and familial celebration has been cruelly mocked by its own crassness and commercialization13. And yet, the seeds of our destruction are the seeds of our redemption. For every malfunctioning traffic light, roller-coaster chair, and wacky shaving kit, there is a juicer, a microwave, or a nifty remote control car that represents our salvation. These contradictions are inherent for any follower of Sincere IronyTM, and only bolster our belief in its value.
FLAWS IN THE DIALECTIC
Okay, having said that, Gremlins is not a perfect movie. There's no reason to compare it to works of sheer cinematic majesty like, say, Ghostbusters. There are two major flaws in the movie:
- Corey Feldman
- The Rules of the Mogwai
Feldman goes without saying14, but I would be remiss if I didn't point out a few problems with the other point. I will be brief, as I will be venturing into bad stand-up territory15.
- Do not expose them to sunlight – what the hell kind of crazy evolutionary dead end are Mogwai? I could understand skin sensitivity and light sensitivity, but melting like Velveeta16 at the slightest exposure to the sun seems to be a bit of a hurdle to overcome for the whole survival thing
- Still, I suppose if the main goal of evolution is to survive until reproduction, the rule of Do not expose them to water cancels that out. However, given that water covers 70% of the earth's surface, falls from the sky on a very regular basis, and makes up something like 90% of all living creatures, the world should be alternately covered with either Mogwai or the goo left over after a sunrise. And what about condensation? Wouldn't morning dew guarantee an army of gremlins? Or the snow that covered Kingston Falls? What is the minimum viscosity of a fluid that would create more Mogwai? Gremlins look a little shiny; could their own slime self-pollinate them?
- Don't feed them after midnight – holy Hell, this requires a subset of points:
- Midnight where? As the earth is a sphere, doesn't that mean a roving line of demarcation where Mogwai mustn't eat?
- Or is it based on time zones? Like, if a Mogwai in Chicago eats at 11:59 central, at the same time as one in southwestern Indiana. Would one remain cute and furry while the other grew a cocoon?
- And is daylight savings taken into effect?
- When is it safe to feed a Mogwai again? Shouldn't Key Luke have narrowed the criteria? Because Gizmo would have starved to death in my house.
POST SCRIPT
Assorted other observations that did not fit elsewhere:
- I would be remiss if I didn't mention part of the reason I realized Gremlins was fighting the good fight in the culture war is a cameo by one of the single greatest humans in history. The Mr. Jones who compliments Billy's cartooning skills is none other than the legendary Chuck Jones, the single greatest director in history. Oh, sure, bring up Citizen Kane again…look, you film school jagoff, Chuck Jones was working with techniques, camera angles, and characterization that live action directors would take years to integrate. So take your fat, pompous, fishstick-and-wine-shilling hack Orson Welles and cram it. Chuck Jones is on the side of good. And I would rather watch "What's Opera, Doc" 18 times in a row than see tham damn snoozefest about the sled.
- As a child, I thought Phoebe Cates was hot. I kinda still do.
- I am one of about 6 people who enjoyed Gremlins 2: The New Batch. I'm not bragging or apologizing. Just stating a fact17.
Tune in whenever I feel like making Section C. I'll give you a hint: it'll be about "OUR TIME!"18
NOTES
- The fact that everything Hitchins has said on this topic is fantastic does not make him any less of an asshead.
- For some reason, MS Word has told me that this should be "is." As in, "we is in deep trouble because MS Word is a shitty program that can't speaks good grammar. Also, the joking "speaks" in my precious sentence was not flagged as bad grammar. AUUUGH!
- It seems that the beard is the pinnacle of evil in 80s culture – Walter Peck, James Brolin (he stole Pee Wee's god-given role, dammit), ZZ Top – the list is seemingly endless).
- It hasn't.
- I resisted the urge to write "believerTM"
- Suck it, Falwell.
- Patent pending.
- I'm not going to automatically dismiss you for not knowing who Walter Paisley is, but if you don't watch the classic Bucket of Blood as soon as you can, you are less than human to me.
- For anyone who thought my Falwell intro wasn't germane to the topic: Wolter-1, All Y'all Haters-0
- I am of course, speaking of the Hitler from Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, whose major crimes seem to be burning books and autographing diaries. The real Hitler was probably at least somewhat nastier than Mrs. Deagle. But I bet he at least liked dogs.
- Ok, I'm making an assumption here. Maybe she didn't die…somehow Mr. Futterman survived into Gremlins 2: The New Batch despite being apparently run over by a bulldozer. Nah. She's dead. Futterman had to survive because Joe Dante will never make a movie without Dick Miller. Joe Dante is on the side of good.
- And at worst a Neo-Fascist Class Traitor.
- If I were a more profound thinker, and less anxious to finish this ever-expanding monograph, I would point out that this whole crisis can be seen as a parable against commercialization, as it all began with the need to come up with a better, flashier Christmas gift, in lieu of spending more time with one's family. Shame on you, Hoyt. Shame on you.
- Indeed, after a landmark ruling made in Geneva in 1992, his inclusion in the cast of any movie is considered a War Crime.
- Why don't they make the whole plane out of the black box? Am I right? Who are these people?
- Actually, per the commercial, I guess they actually melt like cheddar: lumpy, oily, and dribbling onto your doily or other placemat material.
- I also liked Drop Dead Fred. With Phoebe Cates….
- However, to date, it hasn't been your time to read it. 9 months and counting since I made this promise. Maybe I'll have the next installment done before the world ends in 2012.
