Horror Hayride

I first saw HORROR HAYRIDE shortly after a friend's suicide. Viewing this decidedly abnormal film, which is essentially a long-form video for Webb Wilder's disc DOODAD, made me laugh, truly, deeply and hysterically, for the first time since her death. Since then I have purchased the video (yeah, some people do think I'm crazy but get over it!) and watched it countless times. Webb Wilder is in a class of his own. An actor of the Jack Webb School of Emotion, he also writes lyrics of the type that Lyle Lovett would write if Lyle were on Prozac (or maybe something stronger).

The film unfolds in semi-documentary fashion, with Webb's reluctant agreement to help Kirsten, the governor's daughter, with her little driver's ed film. But Briley Parkway, the "film school ... intellectual smart-butt" director Kirsten has engaged to shoot the driver's ed flick is involved in something shadier than tossing mannequin heads in the audience as a careless driver is beheaded. Perhaps he isn't the "vapid, shallow ... congenitally misinformed, moronic Napoleonic fop" described by the head of the driver's ed board, but he doesn't seem to have come from the Disney organization either. Webb's search for the secret gets complicated by his reunion with an old flame, head doctor Barbara Slovine. They lament their broken relationship at a cast party ... Did I mention that at said party Webb and undercover highway patrolman Travis Byrd sing a song apparently entitled, "If You Don't Think Elvis Was Number One, You're Full of Number Two." (I once threatened to sing this ditty when I was entertaining a group of senior citizens.) Webb, a true incompetent spy long before Austin Powers said his first "baaaaayyyyybeee," gets to the truth but can't put the scum away despite his judo moves; he promptly gets tossed on his back with the comment, "Boy, you're dumber'n a bucket o' rocks." So who saves the day? Do yourself a favor, rent the flick and find out. (You'll find it in a trilogy called CORN FLICKS.)

Aliens, nightmares, tater tots and Twitty City, not to mention a kickin' cover version of the Electric Prunes' psychedelic masterpiece, "I Had Too Much to Dream (Last Night)" ... HORROR HAYRIDE has much to offer the inquiring mind. Though I've been told more than once that a person would have to be stoned to understand, much less like, this film, I disagree. It helps to be cold sober and wounded. Because there's nothing like laughing until you fall off the sofa to keep you sane. I'm forever grateful to the unappreciated genius of the self-proclaimed "last of the full-grown men." I actually listen to his music, too. And like it. Oh, and I have an autographed picture sitting in my studio. Am I crazy? Yeah, have been since the age of twelve. Am I a Webb Wilder fan? Way, major. Pick up on it!

First, some background info: Our household discovered Webb Wilder back in the late 1980s/early 1990s when the USA Network showed his first short film, "WEBB WILDER, PRIVATE EYE: THE SAUCER'S REIGN" on the late-night series NIGHT FLIGHT. Once my husband and I found out Webb Wilder (formerly John McMurray) was not only hilarious in his deadpan Southern way but was also the front man for an eponymous rockabilly band that lived up to Webb's "electrifying artist" description, we were Webb Wilder fans for life. Even now, we regularly hum Webb's sizzling songs and bandy about his catchphrases such as "The last of the full-grown men" and "The idol of idle youth" around our home. So you can imagine our joy when a friend gave us the VHS tape WEBB WILDER'S CORN FLICKS, an anthology of 3 shorts by Stephen Mims brimming with loopy straight-faced wit including "...PRIVATE EYE...;" the non-Wilder short "AUNT HALLIE," a wickedly funny spoof of our disease-fearing society; and our fave, "HORROR HAYRIDE." No sooner has our man Webb awakened from one of his recurring nightmares about flying saucers than the governor of Tennessee stops Webb's "Economy With Dignity" tour bus to ask a favor. Seems that Webb, "the only man who commands the respect of both reckless teens and the highway patrol," helped put a rubber stamp truck-driving school out of business, and now the guv wants him to help his cute daughter Kirsten make a state driver's-ed film. But she's chosen the enigmatic Briley Parkway to direct. Briley seems to be inspired by both William Castle and Jean-Luc Godard, but why is this "auteur" making secret visits to porn outfit Antebellum Skin, and why is Kirsten raiding her mom's trust fund to give Briley $5,000 a week? And how are gospel singer Carlsbad Devereaux and Webb's old flame Dr. Barbara Slovine mixed up in all the "swampadelic, psychotronic" goings-on? The kickin' sounds of Webb Wilder the band work with the tongue-in-cheek "hillbilly noir" action perfectly. Co-writer/director Mims provides lots of atmosphere on a low budget (filming in Nashville helped), and the film's black-and-white look is like Ansel Adams photographing a Coen Brothers movie (except for one nifty color sequence after Webb is slipped some LSD). The characters take some pleasantly unexpected turns, with acting ranging from sublime (including Webb himself, natch) to amateurish, but that's part of the movie's charm. If you like deadpan comedy, DRAGNET, TWIN PEAKS, and rock 'n' roll Southern-style, you owe it to yourself to seek out HORROR HAYRIDE; I've seen used copies of the VHS tape on Amazon.com. I'd love to see this turn up on DVD someday. In the meantime, check out Webb Wilder's awesome CDs, too!