And I ain't joshin'.
Why Scott Baio gets the proverbial shaft when great actors are discussed is beyond me. Here's a cat who has dated all the hottest tail and was the driving force behind what is arguably the edgiest, most acerbic teen flick ever in "Zapped!" ... yet he is often mentioned in the same breath with the two-headed Corey Monster (Haim and Feldman) and his frequent, far less dramatically astute compatriot, Mr. Willie Aames. Such degradation is tantamount to a travesty.
This movie is a cutting comedic triumph. Baio's character makes incisive observations about the empty rhetoric of adolescence, and challenges authority not only with his telekinetic powers, but alcohol, tobacco and sex. And let's examine the telekinesis closer -- is it just another one of those blessing-and-a-curse afflictions that finds the right guy or girl? Absolutely not. We're talking about a uniquely Zen ideal, a manifestation of a young man's private internal nirvana in the laboratory of the local high school. Beakers move, brooms sweep up debris, roulette wheels spin out of control, dad tosses liquid laxative all over himself uncontrollably ... this is a celluloid incarnation of unrivaled genius.
Alas, who am I kidding? This movie is stupid bad. And yet I still love it, dammit. So sue me.
