Things We Learned From Heathers.

Today we are thrilled and frightened to welcome guest blogger, Suzanne. Thrilled because Suzanne is seriously hilarious. Frightened because we think she might have gotten away with an actual murder. Seriously. 

The new girl is totally a murderer. Totally.

Hi Suzanne O’Kelly here, guest blogger of Slumber Party Movies. I’ve decided to take a break for streaming Netflix while eating hot dogs rolled in tortillas to remind you of a little film called Heathers and why you musn’t forget it. Why must you be reminded or, God help you, schooled on the lessons Heathers imparts besides the proper use of the word “myriad”? I say “god help you if you are an Old like me because…without Heathers, how did you ever learn to:

Is Jennifer a slut? A. Yes. B. No. C. I’m Jennifer

1. Appreciate the lunchtime poll. This subversive but all important skill is integral to your adult development. I mean, how on earth are you supposed to keep your office mates informed of the haps? Terry in Accounting would surely die if she didn’t know how the office feels about Jennifer in accounting’s new relationship with Bob in Sales, and whether one of them can do better. And don’t get me started on Ted in Product’s ugly pants. If Jeff in Finance knew how we really, REALLY felt about Docker’s with pleats, he’d know to skip those. Being a laughingstock is not part of the recipe for success.

Why am I doing this chicken bone by MYSELF?!

2. Go along with the crowd. One false move and you may find yourself in (or on, in Heather’s case) one huge pickle. As we may recall for the movie, Heather didn’t want to slut it up alone at the college party, so she brought Veronica to help out. (I always wondered why she didn’t invite the Yellow Heather because she seemed to have the lowest standards of the bunch.) Conveniently (for Veronica, not Heather) Veronica got sick and thus was unable to properly blow the douche bag with the Hitler Youth haircut. But Heather, on the other hand, was game enough to follow through. Now who got the short end of the stick here? Not Douchy McDoucherstein because srsly who cares. It’s Heather, of course. How can she let all of those insecurities all hang out in plain view only to find her plucky friend doesn’t, or won’t, share them? How dare Veronica make her look like the ONLY whore? Veronica puking on the carpet was just for emphasis really–you know that frat house carpet had seen its fair puke share prior to that night. Remember, a lone whore is disgusting, but a few good whores are just that. So the next time Josh in Mergers talks you and some other people into getting drunk at lunch and emailing pictures of the CEO’s wet spot on his pants around the office until someone drunkenly copies him, say YES, by god. He can’t fire all of you. Just remember you aren’t so special. If you were, you wouldn’t be working there. Besides, if you decide you are special, you could end up getting teased by a girl wearing a cardigan that looks like a rugby shirt. And who wants that?

Is that poison? No! Just drink it, Socrates…I mean Heather.

3. How to murder people without jailtime. Now this is a skill we all can’t be perfect at, but just imagine the possibilities if there was no such thing as a crime lab, which must have been the case in this movie, but I digress. You have a coworker who takes credit for your idea and gets the promotion, tells everyone about your IBS after a few awkward moments in the bathroom or blabs that 3-way with your boss and his wife story you told her after your 5th happy hour martini. There isn’t even a proper place in hell for people like this. But jail isn’t convenient. Solution? Make it look like a suicide. You don’t even need a note…a marked-up copy of any classic novel will do.  But you could just type one up on her machine when she’s meeting with Larry in Logistics and set it to go out two hours later. (You can do this in Outlook…very easily actually.) Go ahead, slip the poison of your choice into her “I hate Mondays” cup. And don’t look back.

Say ‘damage’ one more time. I dare you. I double dare you.

Ah yes, this movie has shaped my life in myriad ways, as it likely can (or did) yours. And what’s the most important thing to remember here? Life may be hard, but you have help in the movie “Heathers.” And “myriad” doesn’t get a preposition.

Lazlo Hollyfeld!

The other day on Facebook, Jody posted a link to this Think Geek T-Shirt:

No longer available. Rue the day. Rue it!

My first thought was “Ooh!” My second thought was “Lazlo Hollyfeld…” Even in my brain it was a reverent whisper. Lazlo is never far from the front of my consciousness. Appearing, and disappearing, in Martha Coolidge’s epic love letter to smart people, Real Genius, Lazlo was one of the, if not THE, best peripheral characters in Slumber Party Movie history.

A former student at Cal Tech (oops, I mean Pacific Tech), Lazlo Hollyfeld was the star super-duper smart guy until the pressure of all that crushing academia, and the weight of his own impossibly-smart thoughts, imploded in a freak-out break-down so severe, it made this one look like the world’s tiniest foot stomp from a mildly annoyed titmouse:

A break-down that sent Lazlo scuttling about the labyrinth of tunnels beneath Cal (I mean Pacific) Tech, like a less-sexy Phantom of the Opera or a slightly more-sexy Gollum*, scamming the good folks at Frito Lay and serving as a walking, skulking cautionary tale to the super-duper smarteratti upper level dwellers. Sometimes literally, as in this scene where Lazlo softly hammers home the lesson we should all learn from Real Genius (which is either “just because you can do it, doesn’t mean you should” or “lasers are bad”).

And then there was WHAT HAPPENED to Lazlo. What? No, he didn’t become Uncle Rico. You’re thinking about what happened to Jon Gries, not Lazlo Hollyfeld–which was kind of a surprise and kind of not, as long as you paid attention to the trail of smarties that Coolidge left for us. Fair warning. Don’t watch the following if you want to follow that trail for yourself:

Which leads to the real super-secret message of Real Genius. Smart guys get laid too.

* My complete list of every character in pop culture by order of sexiness will be posted soon after my oft-rescheduled nervous breakdown.

Slumber Party Movies Presents: Freshman Film Blue Book

Introducing a new feature here at SlumberPartyMovies: The Freshman Film Blue Book, where we take ourselves very, very seriously. Not too seriously, because seriously: We take these movies seriously, so there’s no “too” involved.

I’ve been mentally writing several chapters of my “Labyrinth” series for months–ever since we started the blog–but this weekend, we bought a 52″ plasma TV (that I may decide is too big; jury’s still out) and inaugurated it with watching “Labyrinth,” for no other reason than “Magic Dance” came up on my iPod, which immediately made my three-year-old insist we see the real thing in all its codpieced glory. She didn’t use the word codpiece, though.

I love a lot about the movie, for many reasons, but the biggest is that it’s fundamentally a coming-of-age story. And a coming-of-age story is nothing if not a loss of innocence: realizing that you’re not a kid anymore, that you have to grow up, and that that is both totally awesome, and massively sucky.

Sarah is dressed in princess garb  when we first meet her–over her jeans, no less–reciting lines from a book to her dog, who’s named Merlin. She fancies herself an abused stepdaughter, and although it’s never said, her mother was clearly a princess: she was a beautiful stage actress, wildly famous, and died young and recently. Sarah worships the ideal of her dead mother, who spent her life pretending to be other people, and hates her new mother, who has a boring, bad haircut, and her new half-brother, who she’s doomed to babysit every night that she doesn’t have a date, which by the sound of it, is every night.

In a nutshell, she makes a wish to lose the brother, and instantly knows she’d rather have a baby brother, safe and secure at home, than live her fantasy of being an only child. She engages on a quest to find him, and at the end, we see her taking down her clippings of her mother, hiding away the toys of her childhood, deciding that it’s time to start moving on and growing up.

The second, third, and fortieth viewings of the movie reveal that her room is peppered with characters from the labyrinth, from Hoggle to the Fieries to the Escher steps. The Goblin King’s there, too, standing right next to her mirror, all purple and blond. Which, of course, has all led us to wonder: how much of this is in her head?

We’ve all thought it, of course: any movie that ends with how it began makes a person wonder if it’s all a dream. But the thing that finally tipped the scales, that finally made me decide to take up the keyboard and tackle this blue book, is the best number in the movie: “Within You.”

This is the big finale, where she faces him for the final puzzle. The song is fantastic: “I move the stars for no one” is probably on a t-shirt at Hot Topic, and if it isn’t, it should be. According to Google, it’s also a popular lower back tattoo.

One of the main themes that repelled and attracted me (OK, mostly attracted), and makes my husband squeamish about the whole thing, is the sexual tension between Jareth and Sarah. He’s like 40+. She’s 14. Gross. Except hot. Especially when you’re 11. So here’s where I go all Intro to Film class, and make a wild suggestion: if the whole thing’s a dream, and every character in a dream is, essentially, you, then Jareth’s part of her. And he’s the part of her that’s trying to keep her in her dream world. Being that she’s 14, sexual tension is pretty much a given.

All of her friends are trying to help her escape; Jareth doesn’t just want to keep Toby. He wants Sarah. He wants her to be his queen–specifically, he wants to rule her so he can be her slave. Which, on the face of it, is a big WTF–you rule me and you’re MY slave? But it makes sense, taken in the context of imagination. If you let your fantasies rule you, it seems as though you can do whatever you want. In fact, Jennifer Connolly herself grows up to marry a guy who solves spy secrets for a supersecret government agency… in his head. Lesson being: you can do whatever you want in your fantasies, but you’re not really living, because you’re obeying them as much as you think they obey you. After all, Sarah wished that her brother be taken away, and he was, and she realized, in that second, that wishes can bite. You can’t always get what you want, but when you do, you don’t always want what you get.

The big a-ha moment for me was the beautiful moment at 1:38, when Jareth sings, “I…. I… can’t live within you,” and makes the saddest, most disappointed face ever seen on a supervillain. He’s crushed. But he’s also resigned. He can’t have her. She’s beating him. The phrasing is what’s important: I can’t live within you. Major sexual undertones aside, he’s realizing that, when faced with adult responsibility and the high stakes of losing her baby brother, she’s rejecting living in her fantasy. Her fantasy can’t live within her anymore, and she finds that bitterly disappointing.

Moments later, she realizes the only way to get to her brother is to take a leap of faith. And she does. And then she faces down her fantasy with her best tool: the magic words her mother gave her. He has no power over her. She controls her fantasies, her imagination, and the game is up: she can be a grown-up. But she can also live in her imagination, as long as she doesn’t let it rule her.

Which is pretty much what I’ve been striving for my entire life. The reason I love stories set in a realistic setting, but with fantastical elements, is that there’s always a part of me that’s pretty sure I am a Muggle, and that there’s a school out there I don’t know about where some lucky kids get to do magic tricks. There’s a young woman who kicks ass against the forces of darkness so I can live in relative normality, sheltered from the vampires and the demons. And I will never, ever wish that the goblins will come and take Gillian away, no matter how fussy she is. Just in case.

P.S. When I saw this in a theater last year, the first five seconds of that last clip sent the audience into paroxysms of catcalling. Just yesterday, my daughter said, “He’s a princess! He’s so pretty! But he’s going to fall in his dress!”

Friday Morning Videos: Voices Carry

Aren’t you lucky? I randomly heard this blaring from the PF Chang’s parking lot last weekend. (No, I wasn’t eating at PF Chang’s.) The whole video’s pretty spectacular, but really, the reason we love it is the last minute, featuring the greatest outburst in a theater, ever. I like to think that she spent the last month or so of their terrible relationship quiet as a mouse, just knowing that he had tickets to Debussy or some equally lame symphony, and that she knew his boss would be there, and that he spent $400 per ticket, and that he got a demotion on Monday.

Sorry about the ads.

Phyllis Diller. Gone too soon!

You see how you suck? You suck in comparison to Phyllis.

Seriously. Wasn’t it just a little over a month ago that I posted about Phyllis for Tuesday Tribute’s Surprisingly Still Alive edition? And then yesterday, I was surprised to be surprised to hear of the older-than-toilets-that-flush comedian’s death. Today, instead of posting another tribute to Lady Frizzelda,  I’ll tell you about another time I paid tribute to her. A few years ago, I worked for Foot  Comedy Walking Tours, giving a tour about some famous women of San Francisco called Go West Young Woman!* I had stops for museum magnate Alma Spreckels, dancer Isadora Duncan, topless pioneer Carol Doda, a poisoned-rum-punch slinging bartender pirate by the name Pigeon-Toed Sal and, at The Purple Onion, the spot of her first stand-up routine (at the ridiculously young age of 38), I paid tribute to the old girl herself. Instead of just blathering on about Phyllis’s life, I decided to illustrate the fact that the fast-talking funny gal was famous for spewing out 12 punchlines in about a minute by forcing the tourists to read 12 classic Diller lines from a Foot-brand index card (such as “I put on a peekaboo blouse. He took a peek and booed.” and “Cleaning the house while your children are growing is like shoveling the walk while it’s still snowing.”). I had to encourage them, telling them not to worry…we’re all friends…no one was going to make fun of them…blah di blah di blah. I timed them. It usually took them about three minutes. I spent the next two minutes making fun of those tourists, telling them in great detail how much they suck in comparison to Phyllis Diller. And they still do, Phyllis. They still do.

*The tour is still there and still funny and fabulous, but someone else is giving it.

Furrah for the Hoggy!

There are many reasons, many movies, and many slumber parties that have led to this ridiculously dorky but fun-as-all-hell-to-write blog (seriously…we dissect Flashdance and Purple Rain like they were classic literature…if that’s not dorky fun, I don’t know what is). The first movie that the three of us fun dorks bonded over was Jim Henson’s The Frog Prince. As the TV Guide ad below illustrates, it wasn’t exactly The Muppet Movie or even The Great Muppet Caper, so just the fact that we had all once been obsessed* with this obscure gem from Muppet past made us all start a squeal that has yet to decrease in volume and pitch.

Delightfully mod? Oh. So that was what was up with Sir Robin’s hair.

So what better way to say Happy Birthday to my partner in dorkitude than with this song–a song that Jody knows all the words to…frontwards and backwards.

* In a ridiculously dorky and obsessed move, I named one of my cats Sir Robin.

Friday Morning Videos: Babysitting Blues

OK, so it’s not a video. It’s a movie clip. But I’m in Chicago for business, staying at the corner of Madison and Wabash, and I had to share something appropriate. I tried to think of Chicago-themed videos, but I could come up with was 1) songs sung by Chicago, and “Stay the Night” will likely be featured here someday; and 2) John Hughes movies.

But really, most teen movies in Chicago occurred in the suburbs, with occasional excursions into Big Scary Downtown, or Big Scary South Side. This movie was no different, except traveling into Big Scary Downtown was actually what the entire movie was about: stealing mom’s car, running away from home, clinging to the side of a building, Elisabeth Shue, and a slightly embarrassing, completely gratuitous musical number: this is what hijinks were all about.

P.S. If I remember correctly, my sister promptly asked for a wool duster and long scarf after the movie came out. I wonder if the few true geeks that lived in the 80s thought she was emulating the Fourth Doctor.

Friday Morning Videos: True Blue

Back in the 80s, Madonna was pretty much the queen of everything. Queen of Pop, Queen of Videos, Queen of Rolling Around On The Floor in a Wedding Dress. Her videos were always earth-shattering–they even starred Danny Aiello, for cripes’ sake–everything she said made headlines, and what did she do as a result? She took what was most definitely her most adorable song to date, “True Blue,” and let the MTV hordes have at it. Their prizes included a Madonna-delivered check for $25,000, a Levis 501 wardrobe, Casio keyboards, and “enough Twix candybars to pay off the entire cast.”

This was in the days before iPhones and downloadable video editing software. It was, in fact, in the days when my school had Commodore 64s in the computer lab, and our vo-tech department had just gotten something called a “video toaster” to go with the “green screen.” But it was also when camcorders became more readily available, and, in fact, “Papa Don’t Preach” is video-ized by me and several friends, during a fateful slumber party at which we all ended up hating each other and my five-year-old brother is caught on tape, merrily drumming with invisible drumsticks in the background. (I promise we’ll get it converted to digital someday, although my sister may swear blood oath vengeance if I go public with her braceface.)

As I didn’t have cable, I missed the run of all the entries on MTV. But people of the internet: if you have a submission stashed away somewhere, please share it. The world wants to know.

Here’s the winner, by Angel Garcia and Cliff Guest. It’s as cute as the song, all decked out in innocent 50s Rebel-Without-A-Cause love and Brylcreem. Best part is that they were clearly costumed to evoke an earlier era, but you can’t hide 80s hair: note Depeche Mode in the high school dance scene.

And I would love to know: what happened to the Angel and Cliff? Where are you? Did you go on to make movies or did you rest on your 501-Levi’d behind? Tell us!

Friday Morning Videos: Keep Your Hands to Yourself

My brother gets married tomorrow, to a fabulous woman named Anne. I love them both and can’t wait until she’s in our family, so she can commence abusing him the way we big sisters always have. My daughter is one of her flower girls, and tomorrow is sure to be a long, exhausting day for all of us, and it’s going to be a blast.

In honor of the occasion, I wanted to post a wedding video. There’s “White Wedding,” of course, and that Dixie Chicks song from the awful Julia Roberts movie. I’m sure there are loads more. But none of them qualify so well as this 1986 classic from the Georgia Satellites: guys on a flatbed playing southern rock, tooling along a summer countryside, probably batting away mosquitoes and chiggers between guitar strums. Granted, this landscape looks too flat to be in Pennsylvania’s Monongahela Valley, but it’s pretty damned close, what with the rockin’ spirit, spiked punch, humidity and tradition. All that’s missing here is the rigatoni, halupkes, and tarantella.

So Anne and Jimmy, here’s your e-card. Yeah, yeah, you say you’re not producing any nieces and nephews for at least another twelve or so years, so no shotguns will be involved. But an auntie can dream.

P.S. SO EXCITED for the rigatoni. And also wedding soup. There better be wedding soup.

Gallery

Let’s Drink Burlesque.

This gallery contains 11 photos.

So maybe it’s a full-on slumber party, or maybe you just invited a few friends over while the kids are at school. Either way, you’ve got a full bar and a copy of Burlesque, starring Christina Aguilera and Cher’s wax statue … Continue reading