C.H.U.D. (1984)

C.H.U.D. feels like a long-lost film from Larry Cohen, who made a career from writing and directing horror and exploitation films set and shot in his native New York. From the Maniac Cop trilogy to Q: The Winged Serpent, Cohen willfully and gleefully captured his city not in any kind of artificial, idealized way, but in the way she actually was then, that is to say…not the kind of place you ♥. Cohen was one of the many attendees of the now-legendary 42nd Street Theater — the planet’s most famous grindhouse theater — which often showed double-bills of the same questionable films he would later grow up to make, and which also inspired Tarantino and Rodriquez to completely misinterpret those films’ appeal when they made their bloated and masturbatory opus Grindhouse.

Even though Cohen had absolutely nothing to do with C.H.U.D., his fingerprints are somehow all over it. With a credited screenplay by Parnell Hall (over Shepard Abbot and actors Daniel Stern and Christopher Curry, who rewrote 50% of the script but received no credit) and directed by Douglas Cheek, C.H.U.D. fits right in with the late ’70s/’80s filmography of Cohen, William Lustig (Maniac), Frank Henenlotter (the Basket Case trilogy), and other New York-based horror filmmakers used to working with low budgets. C.H.U.D. is not only a New York-set story, but its plot/conflict directly addresses an existing problem that the city was suffering with at the time, and likely still is: the staggering amount of homeless people living on and below the streets. C.H.U.D., the silly monster movie about silly looking monsters killing people, and about whom no city officials give a shit, actually has something prescient to say. Unfolding like a budget version of JAWS, C.H.U.D. presents a group of men, some already friendly and some not, who come together to confront the growing threat plaguing their city, even as city officials dismiss their concerns, nearly collapsing the heroes’ campaign in the typical amount of bureaucracy.

Because of this, C.H.U.D. is kind of an ugly film, aesthetically, to look at. Much of the action takes place in underground “caves” below the city, the sewers, soup kitchens, and queasy looking tenement buildings. Even certain scenes, like George (John Heard) and Lauren’s (Kim Greist) apartment, or park exteriors, exude a certain dinginess. C.H.U.D. is a bland looking movie with little dynamism, but that was the point.

For what it is, C.H.U.D. is decently scripted, acted, and assembled, and the monsters’ designs — though later disparaged by the cast — are fun for what they are, and indicative of the decade during which C.H.U.D. was made. Glowing eyes, slimy mouths, and rubber everything, C.H.U.D. was both a callback to the radiation scare films of the 1950s as well as a comment on the then-culture of New York City. It doesn’t exactly unfold at a clip, choosing to establish intrigue and mystery instead of monster hands ripping off human heads (even though that happens), and it’s for this reason that it might not hold an interest for viewers who have yet to have the pleasure. But for those who appreciate a grimy New York horror romp, rubber monster movies, and subtly clever satire, say it with me: C.H.U.D.!

If you decide to add C.H.U.D. to your film library, or if you already own a copy but haven’t yet had the pleasure, I can’t implore you enough to listen to the audio commentary with director Douglas Cheek, writer Shepard Abbott, and actors John Heard, Daniel Stern and Christopher Curry. Because this is the greatest commentary that’s ever been recorded for any film. I’ve long championed this commentary to any film fan who would give half a damn while stressing that there’s no way it doesn’t improve your life. Seriously, it’s great, and everything a commentary should be: it’s enthusiastic, it’s hilarious, it’s informative, but most importantly, it’s honest. This is the most honest audio commentary track you will ever hear — from cast member Daniel Stern booing the name of the credited screenwriter (who is not Shepard Abbot) during the opening credits and adding “that’s BULLSHIT,” to the derision of the final monster designs, which clashes with the original intention of making them more human. (“They look stupid!”) The commentary opens with what sounds like a somewhat drunken voice saying, “Well, yeah, I’m John Heard, I’m in C.H.U.D., and that’s…all there is to it.” Towards the end, Daniel Stern randomly comments on his dirtied character’s appearance as being a “werewolf Bob Dylan,” leading Christopher Curry to totally freestyle an uncanny Bob Dylan impression, turning the film’s action into observational song lyrics, with rhymes and all. No shitting, it’s one of my favorite all-time things. (The track also appears on the newest Blu-ray release from Arrow Video.) 

C.H.U.D. shouldn’t be mistaken for being among the best of the ’80s, but it’s certainly admirable and provides a bit of fun. It’s a decent throwback to an earlier era of the genre (and it’s so old that the decade during which it was made has recently become a focal point for a whole new crop of throwback horror films — Jesus, I am old!), and could easily be appreciated by devotees of the low budget New York horror scene. 

And if you need a bit more convincing, just remember: he’s John Heard, he’s in C.H.U.D., and that’s…all there is to it.

THE 'TEEN WOLF' SERIES (1985-1987)

Every decade of filmdom can be easily defined by some if its choicest titles. Say the 1970s, you might think The Godfather, or Taxi Driver, or Apocalypse Now. Say the 1990s, you might say The Silence of the Lambs or The Cable Guy (haw haw). But say the 1980s, and the titles are seemingly endless. Never before has a decade been so reinforced by its penchant for excess and absurdism, along with the pop culture it created. The 1980s…where to start. The Breakfast Club. Back to the Future. Fast Times at Ridgemont High.

And oh yes, Teen Wolf, that odd parable about boys becoming men and getting hair in places they didn’t have before, or noticing girls and wanting to go in closets with them, is one of the most ‘80s films that the ‘80s ever happened to. The music (James House!), the fashions (I wear my sunglasses indoors!), the hair (wolf and non-wolf alike!) – Teen Wolf wasn’t just made during the ‘80s, but it’s of the ‘80s; it is the ‘80s: when films were daring in their willingness to be stupid on purpose, and when two guy friends could call each other “fag” in the comfort of their own van. Yes, the 1980s were king.

Teen Wolf was one of the first somewhat genre-oriented films to embrace the “coming of age” aesthetic that was in its infant stage of becoming a go-to trope: an adolescent experiencing a physical, emotional, or mental renaissance that would see them transitioning from childhood to adulthood. Teen Wolf boasted one of the more outlandish approaches to “coming of age,” comparing puberty and sexual awakening to literally becoming the Wolf Man, but amusingly the film actually does a good job of slowly introducing this concept. NASA-sized suspensions of disbelief are required less for the fact that this is happening, but more for the notion that everyone at school seems totally cool with this. During minute one, there’s Scott the Boy: he sucks and everyone hates him. During minute two, there’s Scott the Wolf and he’s an instant fucking legend. Alan Turing had to create the modern computer system, get chemically castrated for being gay, commit cyanide suicide, and STILL wait fifty years before the masses cheered for him. Scott Howard The Wolf only needed thirty seconds during a single basketball period.

Societal progress!

Teen Wolf, silly though it may be, is essential ‘80s cinema. It’s not the best that the decade has to offer, but it certainly embodies the decade much better than other films from the same era that one might argue are better made. 

As usual, Teen Wolf Too falls victim to the comedy sequel: it strives to hit the same comedic beats, follow the same path, etc. It’s not quite as derivative as Airplane 2: The Sequel, which literally recycled every good joke from the original, but it’s very close. However, while it’s bad enough that Teen Wolf Too seems totally fine reveling in redundancy, therein lies an additional problem which basically torpedoes Teen Wolf Too right from the start: Jason Batemen, who fills in for Michael J. Fox as the new Scott Howard.

After toiling in 1990s obscurity following the end of the Brat Pack era (he was nearly cast in Freddy vs. Jason – for serious) and enjoying a career resurgence thanks to the brilliant Arrested Development, Batemen has been back in full force enjoying many different manners of films and television: acting, writing, and directing. As a comedic voice, his talent is immense, and as a dramatic one, he’s surprisingly nuanced and mature. But all that aside, one thing remains: guy plays an excellent dick. Following his semi-dick role of Michael Bluth, he’s transitioned into many other film roles where he…plays more of a dick, with a biting sense of humor and a sharp tongue. Some people are naturally capable of this, in the same way other people are naturally capable of the exact opposite. When one thinks of Michael J. Fox, Marty McFly comes to mind – America’s wholesome, plucky boy next door – someone who will take your daughter’s virginity, but be lovably flustered about it the whole time. When one thinks of Jason Batemen, your mind fills with a dick, complete with snide smile and really nice sweater. Ergo, opting to have Batemen fill in as Scott Howard for this go-round results in his turning the character into kind of a dick. And it’s not just his performance that’s to blame, either, but also the script, which is intent on pursuing a kind of Dickensian (pun not intended but I’ll take it) reformation story that sees Howard starting off shy, becoming a dick, but then re-embracing his humanity again by film’s end. Along the way he’ll excel at sports, woo the girl, isolate and then win back his best boy chum, and befriend Kim Darby – a page torn from the journal of our own lives.

Teen Wolf Too is a weak sequel – generally bandied about on those “worst sequels of all time” lists that movie sites love to run. And, frankly speaking, it deserves to be there. Its plot is recycled, its conflict redundant, and its lead is unlikable. Except for a single fun montage set to Oingo Boingo, this sequel will leave you howling in pain haw haw sorry. (If you want to check out the REAL sequel to Teen Wolf, then locate the nearest copy of Teen Witch, stat.)

IN ‘WEIRD SCIENCE,’ THE DICKS GET TO WIN

Say the name “John Huges” to a film fan and they’ll easily think of several things: the ‘80s, teens, and love. If ever a filmmaker had been the face of a movement, it’s Hughes, whose films easily embodied the growing pains of the middle-America teenager. And that’s what makes Weird Science a semi-outlier in his long and prolific career. Hughes’ most well-known films, The Breakfast Club and Sixteen Candles, were comedies at their hearts, but also contained enough emotion, substance, and relatability to register as more than just another 90-minute romp filled with teen hijinks and gentle kissing. Same goes for Pretty in Pink, which stops its general lightheartedness and allows for a genuinely melancholic monologue from Harry Dean Stanton about being an older and ineffective father.

Weird Science is base-level John Hughes. It covers all those same components, but in the most superficial way possible. It is, essentially, Hughes’ take on the teen sex comedy, which had become prominent by then, ushered in by National Lampoon’s Animal House before things like Porky’s and The Last American Virgin took over. Because of that, it’s probably not fair to judge Weird Science in the same way you would judge St. Elmo’s Fire, being that both flicks, despite similar genetic make-up, have different goals.

Which is what makes Weird Science kind of a blast, and very, very strange.

High school horndog outcasts Gary (Anthony Michael Hall) and Wyatt (Ilan Mitchell-Smith) want to get laid. Of course they do; they’re boys in high school. So, since this slice of Shermer, Illinois, exists in a land before Tinder, the obvious next step is to create a girl (using Wyatt’s computer) that will satisfy their carnal urges and teach them all the different ways of being a sexual maestro. Hughes was right to have Frankenstein playing on a background television all during this creation sequence because this is obviously a riff on that Modern Prometheus. Soon, their creation shows up: a gorgeous British bird they name Lisa (Kelly LeBrock) who will go on to wreak all kinds of ‘80s havoc.

A popular term these days is “problematic.” I’m sure you’ve heard it. It gets thrown around more and more when it comes to judging art from a different era with 2019 “woke” eyes, a term that, like "hipster" or "socialist," gets conjured a lot by people who don't actually know what it means. Still, bits and pieces from Hughes' catalog haven't aged well in this modern era. Bender looks up Claire’s skirt in The Breakfast Club…without asking. Problematic. In Sixteen Candles, one friend dismissively calls another a “total faggot,” and this unfolds within throwing distance of “Long Duk Dong,” perhaps the most freakishly offensive Asian character not seen since Peter Sellers played Inspector Sidney Wang in Murder by Death. Sixteen Candles: also problematic...along with Murder by Death, I guess. In an op-ed for the New Yorker, even frequent Hughes Muse^TM Molly Ringwald opined about watching The Breakfast Club with her modern eyes and seeing things considered problematic today. “It’s hard for me to understand how John Hughes was able to write with so much sensitivity, and also have such a glaring blind spot,” she writes. It’s a good thing she didn’t appear in Weird Science, as all the fainting couches in the world could not have offered her the support she'd need to reckon with such a triggering past, as it’s basically a poster board for all the ways a comedy could never be made today. 

Yes, Weird Science is a sex comedy, so naturally one should approach it knowing that some of its content is likely to touch hands with the risqué. However, Weird Science ups that content a bit with some of its odder underlying choices, perhaps the least realized but most disturbing aspect being that its lead "heroes," Gary and Wyatt, aged 16 and 15, respectively, inadvertently create their own personal pedophile by assigning Lisa the age of 23. Naturally, that line of thinking didn’t exist back in the ‘80s, nor did the implication sink in that because Lisa was created, she hence lacked the ability to consent to the boys' sexual whims, so once it’s made clear she is fully under the boys’ control, it's implied they are basically off-screen raping her throughout the movie. 

Yep, that's how I began this part of the discussion.

Creepy sexual stuff aside, there’s also the scene where the trio goes to an after-hours blues club with a mixed-race clientele, during which Gary gets so drunk that he begins mimicking the gravelly-voiced African-American man next to him by giving himself a “black” voice. (The movie comes to a dead halt during this sequence—not because of the “offensiveness,” but because it’s putting its full weight on one joke that never works, is generally obnoxious, and goes on for way too long.) I should note that I don’t personally find any of the above offensive because I’m an adult and I have the ability to recognize that art made during certain eras are going to reflect those eras: what was considered acceptable, what was part of the lexicon, and what, back then, was simply considered funny. I mean, Moe used to express his frustration with Curly and Larry by beating them mercilessly with pipe wrenches and literally pushing them to the ground. How seriously are we supposed to take comedy, whether slapstick or absurd? When it comes to Weird Science, is the humor ideal? These days, no. Certain things once normal are now avoided. Should Weird Science ever get the remake treatment, genders will be swapped, unconsented sex will be avoided, and everyone will make sure everyone else is on the same page all the time to avoid any traumatic misunderstandings during the climactic party scene (unless the bad guy does it). Sounds boring.

Weird Science is often very funny, fully coming alive during the third act where Gary and Wyatt throw a party that goes very out of control, allowing for cameos from members of the cast of The Road Warrior (Vernon Wells) and The Hills Have Eyes (Michael Berryman). It's during this sequence when Weird Science gets the most outrageous, especially when contents of the house are sucked out the chimney and redistributed across the back yard once Gary and Wyatt attempt to create another Lisa-ish compu-girl for two bullies (Robert Downey Jr. and Robert Rusler) who spent the whole movie breaking their balls. It’s as if Hughes had spent years writing down every joke, sight gag, and concept he’d maybe want to use one day and decided that, during the third act of Weird Science where anything could happen, he would use it all: frozen grandparents in the cupboard; an evil older brother, Chet (an amazing Bill Paxton), turning into some sort of monstrous cryptid; a bedroom where it snows all the time; a rocket ship fucking the interior of Wyatt's bedroom (symbolism!); motorcycle cannibals; and more. Hughes weaves them all together in a weird, excessive pastiche of chaos that helps usher Weird Science across the finish line, transcending it from an odd but average comedy to ‘80s cult classic. (That the film is bookended by Oingo Boingo’s song of the same name helps a lot. What’s more ‘80s than Oingo Boingo?) (Cocaine.)

Hughes was known for creating the trends along with bucking them—his filmography was the first to treat teenagers as characters with genuine emotions and personalities as opposed to troublemaking archetypes—which is perhaps why Weird Science, technically a teen-sex comedy, contains no sex whatsoever...at least, not on screen. Despite some brief nudity, courtesy of the skin rags in Wyatt’s bedroom and one amusing sight gag involving a naked pianist—I said pianist!—Weird Science is visually chaste. The dialogue is certainly racy at times, but there’s not a single sex scene between any members of the cast, despite that being the reason for Lisa’s creation—and on top of that, there’s only one implied sex scene throughout the whole flick. If we follow the movie rule of “if I didn’t see it, it didn’t happen,” then Gary and Lisa never have sex at all, and if they did, you'd think the boys would compare notes about their first sexual dalliance in that soft, eye-opening way Hughes often employed when writing about the teenage experience. This would make sense in an ironic way if the flick had followed that concept for both boys—they created their own sex goddess, but never actually had sex with her—but instead, it seems Wyatt’s the only one who gets laid. It’s weird. 

♫ Weird Science! ♫

The more one thinks about Weird Science, the less sense it all makes, so maybe we shouldn’t dive too deep into the implications of its main characters, but come on: Gary and Wyatt are dicks. They do awful things, learn zero lessons, and still get the girls (Suzanne Snyder, my ‘80s crush I’m still sweet on and who appeared on Seinfeld as two different characters—it's true!—and Friday the 13th: The Final Chapter's Judie Aronson), who they both profess to love within 24 hours of interacting with them for the first time. And how do they “get” the girls? By shooing away some mutant bikers before very recklessly firing off a gun by accident in Wyatt's house for comedic effect. Sure, saved lives can make a solid case for new infatuation, but if I wanted to poop this party, I could say the girls' infatuation comes about as byproducts of their mutant traumatic experiences, a twisted transference of Stockholm Syndrome. And let's also remember that our guys "get" those girls after having agreed to create another Lisa for those earlier mentioned bullies in the most casual agreement regarding human trafficking since the nearest Q follower's imagination. And when Wyatt drops off Hilly at her house the next morning, where she tells him she’ll probably be grounded for a month, Wyatt says that he’ll wait for her…before grabbing her ass with both hands with his fingers crossed. What the fuck, what does that mean? He’s not going to wait for her? Did he learn nothing? Does he feel nothing? God, fuck you, Wyatt. DON’T YOU DARE DISRESPECT JUDIE ARONSON—SHE WAS AMERICAN NINJA'S GIRLFRIEND.

And what about poor Lisa, the victim in all this? How does a person come to grips with the existential realization that she’s been created out of thin air solely to be used as a sex toy? That she never had a childhood during which she could forge the experiences that help us all grow into the adults we become? And does that make it weird for her once the sex stuff falls by the wayside and she instead starts mommying the boys with a whole bunch of life lessons? Is she the wisest 23-year-old in existence? How does she get that gym teacher job at the end if she doesn’t have a social security number? Does she have DNA? Can she procreate? How long does a computer-generated person live, anyway? Do she and the boys all stay friends for the rest of their lives? Would it be weird if they did, or weird if they didn’t? When Gary and Wyatt eventually marry their girlfriends and Lisa goes to their joint wedding, do the boys reintroduce her to their new wives by saying, “Remember Lisa, the fuck slave we created with Wyatt’s Macintosh?”

♫ Weird Science! ♫

You might be tempted to think that because I've taken the time to explore the non-ageless content of Weird Science that I'm denigrating it in some manner, but I'm not. I'm celebrating Weird Science's oddness, it's strange surreal take on the somewhat boring teen-sex-comedy sub-genre, and yeah, it's political incorrectness. It's that last part that's being sucked out of the comedy genre, leaving it a soulless husk. A future in which people from all walks of life can walk out of a movie all having laughed at all the same jokes without feeling challenged in any particular way by its a content is a future that sounds bland and joyless. Comedy is the last line of defense where offense can be explored and prodded in ways that produce laughter both conflicted and joyful. Without that line to straddle, there's no Blazing Saddles, there's no Trading Places, and there's sure as hell no Weird Science.