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Josephine Heathershaw
The After Movie Diner started life simply as a film review blog/diary but quickly sprawled into a website featuring several podcasts, detailed film reviews, celebrity interviews and many collaborators and contributors. Take a look around, if you love movies of any kind then there's something here for you!
There were differences between the films, though. While Fast Times offered quite possibly the first truly honest cinematic portrait of American teens at that time, it still laced its brutal truths with sly wit and was chock full of memorably funny moments. Over the Edge could be funny, too; it shared Fast Times' dark sense of humor, certainly. However, even amidst the uncertainty and heartache the kids face in Fast Times, that film still ends with a sense of well-earned hope for all, at least. Over the Edge, on the other hand, offered the same sort of truthful look into the drama-filled lives of teenagers, but provided little in the way of hope. The film's bleak tone is there from the start, and it grows bleaker along the way. It's like watching a train wreck about to happen in slow motion: the kids and the adults are on a collision course that will impact all of their lives moving forward. So while I sat on that couch as a teenager, glued to the screen, I was very much aware that this was unlike anything I'd ever seen before. And I loved it. It reflected things that every teenager could relate to in varying degrees.
Set in the fictional planned community of New Granada in Colorado, the film is a searing critique of how these sorts of suburban enclaves can breed a sort of miasma of discontent in both the parents and the kids. This was supposed to be their heaven on earth, safe and far away from the evils of the big cities or the larger suburbs. Instead, the kids in New Granada are miserable and resentful that they've been uprooted to live in this godforsaken place, with nowhere to go and nothing to do. There's an after school rec center, run by a teacher who truly cares, but outside of that there is literally nothing for these kids to do except roam around in packs looking for cheap thrills where they can find them. There's an unfinished house where the kids can hang out, smoke, and play around with a gun one of them procures. Rock music and drugs are their only salvation, as they drift aimlessly through a life none of them want but that their parents feel they should be grateful to have.
The teens were mostly played by non-actors, except for a few then-unknowns like Matt Dillon (making his screen debut) and Vincent Spano. For kids with little to no acting experience, the cast is uniformly terrific, probably because their roles hit so close to home - they were teenagers, after all, and could relate better to the material they were being asked to play than anyone else could. The parents, teachers, police officers, and other adults are presented as human beings with their own foibles and insecurities, instead of just cartoonishly evil. They're not bad people, at heart (well, a few of them are), but they consistently make selfish and poor decisions that impact their kids in ways they can't seem to grasp. There's a powerful moment late in the film where one father asks, incredulously, if any of them have ever really listened to their kids before? It's a pertinent question, and the first time in the film one of the parents seems to understand where their kids are coming from.
The tension builds until finally the kids need to do something cathartic to release all of that pent up aggression and anger. Then one teen is killed by a cop claiming self-defense. Then, finally, all of the kids' rage boils over. This was the part that really blew my mind back in the day: the kids lock the adults into the school during a parents-only meeting following the teen's shooting death. The kids proceed to systematically and gleefully destroy school property - scenes of library shelves being overturned with books flying everywhere, windows being smashed, and police cars ablaze were incredibly powerful images to witness as a teenager. What kid didn't want to break some stuff at his or her school at one time or another? It was exhilarating to see this as a teenager, even if I knew I was too docile to ever attempt something that brazen. Today, watching from the standpoint of an adult and a parent, the ending still packs a punch, but now that comes with a heavy dose of heartbreak also. The explosive release of the teenage angst is both terrifying and sad. The film never really offers any obvious signs of hope in the ongoing war between parents and their children. That final scene of the kids on the bus being shipped off to a detention center is oddly uplifting, scored to the tune of "Ooh Child," which might fool us into thinking everything is going to be okay. But then we remember these kids are in real trouble, their futures likely altered for good. All because they didn't feel they had anyone to listen to them.
I'm curious what today's youth would think of Over the Edge. The film was already a cult classic by the time I saw it, and it hasn't lost any of its luster in the years since then. My instincts are that today's youth would connect with it as much as previous generations did. It's not only an important document of teen culture in late twentieth-century American suburbia, but its themes are universal and will reach across generations. Everyone is a teenager at one point. We can all relate to the very real sense of disillusionment that occurs when you become old enough to realize that your parents and other authority figures aren't perfect like you though they were when you were just a child. In fact, they're deeply, complexly flawed, often in ways you won't understand until you reach adulthood. All that matters when you're a teenager is that they do not and cannot possibly understand you or your feelings. Over the Edge is one of the finest cinematic representations of that gulf, that ever-widening gyre of understanding between adults and teenagers. It's the ultimate teen cult classic, ready to be discovered by each successive generation that's in need of seeing themselves, and their feelings, represented thoughtfully on screen.
Over the intervening decades I have occasionally caught a moment or two of the film while channel surfing. Those who know me well are aware my tastes in cinema run to the extremely good and the extremely bad. Life just seems too short to waste on movies which are at best adequate and at worst mediocre. Those are two descriptors that seemed (in my mind, at least) to apply to "Road House," and so I have passively ignored it ever since - despite its (admittedly flat-out amazing) radio spot tagline: "The movie where Patrick Swayze kicks butts and breaks hearts."
My pal and fellow film enthusiast Keith Kozel now tells me I made a tactical error in dismissing this feature, which the late Roger Ebert claimed existed "right on the edge between the 'good-bad movie' and the merely bad."
The action-packed tale finds Swayze as a tough-as-nails big-city bouncer who's hired to handle security at the wonderfully named Double Deuce nightclub in the tiny rural hamlet of Jasper, Mo. It also stars Kelly Lynch, Sam "Super-Stache" Elliot and the never disappointing Ben Gazzara. I've just recently learned that former "Memphis Mafia" member Red West - who knocked it out of the park in the sleeper indie "Goodbye Solo" many years later - has a small role in the film as well. Would that I had known that back in the day ...
"I've seen it twice on cable," he enthuses. "It reminds me of the tough guy movies that used to star Clint Eastwood or Charles Bronson. Those guys are great bad-asses, but they're always mean as well. And, in most of the movies about people with hearts of gold, they're too nice and don't kick enough ass. So, in that respect, I'm tempted to say that 'Road House' stands alone."
If you're like me and have never seen it before - or if it's just been way too long - you can revel in its cheesy glory on the giant screen of the Lucas Theatre on Aug. 7, when "Road House" kicks off the Lucas' Patrick Swayze Weekend (yes, you read that right).
The following night, they'll show another beloved Swayze vehicle that I have somehow managed to avoid despite society's best efforts to burn it into my brain via the Ludovico Technique: 1987's romantic drama "Dirty Dancing."
Most everyone it seems adores this film, even though the few minutes I've absorbed accidentally over the last three decades made it clear that - its blockbuster success notwithstanding - this period tale of an affluent teenage girl who develops a crush on the older dance instructor at a posh Catskills resort is filled with egregious anachronisms and an illogical storyline. Regardless, it has grossed well over $200 million and was the first feature film to sell more than 1 million copies on the home video market.
In fact, "Dirty Dancing" is so beloved and ingrained in pop culture that it's almost unfathomable there won't be a tremendous turnout for this rare theatrical engagement. I recommend arriving early for either or both halves of this Swayze-bration, as the Lucas offers half-price beer and popcorn from 7-7:30 p.m. on both nights. Showtime for both films is 8 p.m., with $9 admission ($6 for students/seniors/military).
The following night, Aug. 9, Sulfur Studios in the Starland District offers another DIY film screening in the main gallery room of its burgeoning arts space. This time around, it's the legendary 1927 German expressionist sci-fi epic "Metropolis." Never seen this silent gem? Well, you've likely seen direct cribs from its landmark, eye-popping visuals show up without attribution in all manner of subsequent films, TV shows and comic books.
Made during Germany's Weimar Period, it's a futuristic tale of a wealthy political scion who attempts to bridge the division between his huge city's working poor masses and the elite ruling class he represents. His greed and duplicity result in the creation of a robotic look-alike for "Maria," a young and charismatic labor leader. The mechanical look-alike's job is to pass for its real counterpart and discredit her among her followers in the lower class.
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