timmus

Consumerism is a mentality espoused by corporations and the American media that teaches us to embrace advertising and marketing, and to spend money frequently on frivolous, trendy merchandise from multinational corporations rather than buy locally, save, or spend wisely. Consumerism is very much an addiction: we endlessly buy worthless junk and status symbols to find happiness; spending is spiritual and shopping malls are the temples. Fight Club, surprisingly, recognizes and sketches this premise out on a magnificent scale (shocking considering this was released by Fox). Our main character is a slave to the corporate machine and spends his money on trinkets and trendy furniture. His spiritual quest for happiness leads him to support groups and finally, in an odd turn of events, to fighting, which although providing a temporary high, takes our characters to rock bottom. At that point the suspension of disbelief unravels and the film wanders, tossing the audience a lame succession of improbable conspiracies, psychologies, and ridiculous plot twists (essentially turning into "The Game"). Sorry, I don't buy it.

Before the "Come and Say G'Day" commercials in 1983 and the Crocodile Dundee movie in 1986 there was the Paul Hogan Show. It was Australia's Benny Hill with sophomoric but clean, biting humor yet without the infamous ribaldry. The show usually opened with a welcoming monologue featuring wisecracks in front of a live audience. Then would come a series of shorts. One of the recurring skits featured Hogan and John Cornell as two losers in a ramshackle bachelor pad planning out their supposed evening with the ladies. In a style that truly mimicked Benny Hill there were frequently accelerated-film skits. One that I remember featured Hogan trying to set up camp to the accompaniment of Canned Heat's "Up The Country".

Although sometimes bland, the Paul Hogan show definitely had its moments. One of the most unforgettable performances was Hogan as the trenchcoat-clad man in the city park, singing to the accompaniment of lush Phil Spector-esque instrumentals: "There's someone, waiting around you, just stop and see. There is someone, waiting to know you, over there, behind the tree! There is someone, who has something, that he wants the world to see! Oh somebody, anybody! oh for God sake! look at me!" [holding trenchcoat wide open] "LOOK AT ME!"

Do any tapes exist anymore? If so, drop me a line.

When you see the opening scenes with Cheech & Chong trying to siphon gas from a car, losing most of it because of a milk carton clog and the rest of it from reckless spillage, you know this film is going to be different. From that point on the film accelerates us into the cinematic realm of two aging hippies who wander the dusty emptiness of late-70s east L.A., not knowing whether it's Tuesday or Saturday. Cheech is the 30-something Latino who acts 20-something, continually absorbed in a futile pursuit for parties and romance. Chong's low-key character is an example of someone who, if a heroin user, would have overdosed long, long ago. This brain-dead character is the epitome of boredom, and when left to his own devices he invariably ends up revving his motorcycle inside the house, making as much electric guitar noise as is theoretically possible, and consistently annoying the neighbors.

The second part of the movie, unfortunately, lapses into a series of mediocre setpieces, featuring Cheech's cousin Red (actually Cheech Marin himself) wandering through hotels, nightclubs, and the Sunset Strip. The movie then just gets bizarre rather than funny.

This film is certainly the best Cheech & Chong movie and is is good for a few good belly laughs, but they are a little bit few and far between. Good for a lazy Saturday afternoon.