Monstervision's Joe Bob Briggs Looks At

Mutant on the Bounty (1989)

"Joe Bob Goes to the Drive-In" for 9/15/89
By Joe Bob Briggs
Drive-In Movie Critic of Grapevine, Texas

You might remember my little cousin Wilbur, who lives in a cardboard box down on Jackson Street and only has one nostril. He was born that way, but we didn't notice it till he was four years old. Otis Leakey was visiting one day from Paducah, Kentucky, and he said, "Have yall looked at Little Wilbur lately?" And we said, "What?" And he said "Have yall looked at Little Wilbur lately? You know, you ought to get that boy checked." Otis couldn't put his finger on it, but he knew something was wrong with Wilbur's face. And so we took Wilbur to the doctor, and, sure enough, he was missing one nostril. We probly never would of known about it if Otis hadn't come to visit that year.
Anyhow, that's beside the point. The point is that we've been trying to get Little Wilbur to get a good paying job for several years now, but Wilbur is what you call your chronically unemployed. It's partly due to discrimination against the partial-nosed population, but I think it's mainly cause of Wilbur's own attitude.
"I don't have to work," he'll tell you. "I have a handicapped sticker."
It's true. Wilbur wrote off to the Texas Department of Motor Vehicles and got himself a handicapped sticker. He wears it on his forehead.
"Wilbur, just cause you're handicapped doesn't mean you have to sit around on Jackson Street all day being pitiful. You could at least volunteer for the Special Olympics or something."
"I earned this nostril," Wilbur told me, "and I'm gonna use it."
Besides, two years ago we tried to put Little Wilbur in the Special Olympics, but they said he was the only single-nostriled person they'd ever had and they didn't have anybody to compete against him.
"That just shows you," he said, "the prejudice of the full-nosed population at large."
I told Wilbur it would be different if his nostril got shot off in Vietnam or something, but he was a natural one-nostril man and so . . .
"There are PLENTY of cocaine-head Hollywood producers with nostrils worse than mine!" he interrupted. "They could have put THEM in the Special Olympics."
"Wilbur, cocaine-head Hollywood producers can't use a table fork, much less a discus."
Wilbur snorted.
"Please don't do that again," I told him. "That's the one thing you can do that grosses me out."
"You see?" Wilbur said. "It's because I have one nostril, isn't it? If anybody else had a COLD, as I happen to have at this very moment, you wouldn't say anything, would you? But when it's a handicapped person . . ."
"Wilbur," I said.
"Yes," he sniffled.
"I don't care how many nostrils you have. I don't care whether you're handicapped or not--and, by the way, take that sticker off your forehead, it's annoying--the least you could do is work the check-out line at Kroger's."
"Do you know what people would do in a grocery store check-out line the first time they saw a one-nostriled person?"
"Check out?"
"They would laugh! They would whisper! They would turn away! They would make their children go to ANOTHER line! They would . . ."
I guess it was about then that I smacked Wilbur right in the . . . well, I guess you know where I smacked him.
He'll be out of the hospital this week.
Maybe the carnival has something.

And speaking of mutated human flesh attempting to be taken seriously, the best drive-in movie of 1989 just came out this week--"Mutant on the Bounty," the engrossing (and grossing) story of a horribly mutilated saxophone player who's rescued from a freefall through outer space by a ship full of bored singles-bar rejects. Meet the Hawaiian-shirted Skipper, his stuttering first mate, the transvestite droid Lizardo, and the adorable chain-smoking nymphomaniac doctor who performs open-brain surgery with a pair of scissors. This wacky crew takes in the sax-playing mutant and tries to make him forget his troubles--namely, that his face now looks like a can of Raviolios, and a couple of intergalactic Seven-Eleven robbers named Rick and Manny are coming to point ray guns at him and giggle a lot. What's the point? The same point as EVERY outer-space movie for the last thirty years--will the universe be destroyed by the virus that only THEY know about?

There have been several attempts at outer-space comedy before, but this one is the champeen. Kyle T. Heffner, as the deformed but good natured Max the Mutant, gives the best performance of the year by a man who picks dead skin off his face in every scene.

Remember when Return of the Living Dead first came out, and we all KNEW it was gonna be a classic, but it took everybody three years to figure it out?
This one's better.
Four dead bodies.
One dead droid.
One puss-faced mutant.
Open-brain laser surgery.
Gooey objects removed from cranial cavity in closeup.
One giant outer-space rubber dart gun.
Face-frying.
Exploding spaceship.
Excellent Freddy Krueger ripoff voice.
Aardvarking.
Mutant aardvarking.
Gratuitous Hawaiian shirt.
Gratuitous baby blue tuxedo shirt.
Toilet Fu.
Drive-In Academy Award nominations for John Fleck, as the droid who switches between the personality of a transvestite stripper and a Nixon Administration press secretary;
John Durbin, as Manny the goofball sidekick of the standup comedian armed robber, for his love of puff weasels;
Deborah Benson, as the dippy reporter whose idea of cheering up a man who's had his face fried off is a little tic-tac-toe, for saying "Could we just turn out one more light?";
Victoria Catlin, as the nympho chain-smoking surgeon, for saying "Don't die on me now, you son of a beech" in a dimwit French accent;
Scott Williamson, as Rick the intergalactic convenience-store robber, for having the world's most obnoxious giggle and saying "Out there, somewhere, is a very very very unlucky saxophone player";
Kyle T. Heffner, as Max the Mutant, for saying "First they mutilate me, then they lose my luggage. I don't think I'm even gonna get credit for my Frequent Flyer miles" and
"Even if I didn't look like I was bobbing for French fries, I'd be thrilled to be with you";
and Robert Torrence, the producer, director and co-writer, who's already planning a sequel called "Seven Brides for Seven Mutants."
Four stars. Joe Bob says check it out twice.

JOE BOB'S ADVICE TO THE HOPELESS

Communist Alert! The Highway 13 Family Outdoor Theater in Wisconsin Rapids, Wis., which first opened in 1953, is being ripped down so some guy can use it for a "golf practice range." The last movies to show there were "UHF" and "Ghostbusters II," but who we gonna call? Preciate Michael Schott sending in the obituary. Remember, without eternal vigilance, it can happen here. To discuss the meaning of life with Joe Bob, or to get copies of the world famous "We Are the Weird" newsletter, or just to get some of the nifty free junk that movie companies send to Joe Bob in the mail and then he sends it out again to the first idiot who asks for it, write Joe Bob Briggs, P.O. Box 2002, Dallas, TX 75221. Joe Bob's Fax line is always open: 214-368-2310.

Mr. Briggs,
You gave me an award for Best Acting in "Shadow of Death," but I haven't received my ------- award. Why the hell NOT? Don't make me sue you.
Love,
Jim Turner
MTV Network
New York, N.Y.

Dear Jimbo:
1) I've never heard of a flick called "Shadow of Death."
2) You were NOMINATED for a Drive-In Academy Award for Best Gonzo Weirdbeard Supporting Actor Guy for the movie "Destroyer" starring Lyle Alzado.
3) Maybe you made up the movie "Shadow of Death" to try to make me look bad.
4) Maybe you forgot you were in "Destroyer."
5) Maybe you've been hanging around Empty-V too long.

Dear Joe Bob Briggs,
Long time in coming, this letter.
Enjoyed--no, loved--your review of "Cheerleader Camp." And the Hubbie nominations were just icing.
Brought a lot of joy to me.
Thanks so much.
Perhaps another time I'll have a hand in another film that you'll enjoy even more.
Cordially,
David Lee Fein
Co-writer, "Cheerleader Camp"
Los Angeles

Dear David Lee:
This would be my advice to you, man-to-man, writer-to-writer.
Next time, use the following stage direction more often:
"(slowly removing blouse and turning toward camera)"
I've found that the dialogue works better when you give your actresses something physical to do. Makes em more natural.

Dear Joe Bob,
I enjoy your column but noticed a recent error I feel moved to point out. You recently stated there were no bare breasts in James Bond movies. Not true. If you have a VCR with a decent freeze frame, watch "Diamonds Are Forever." At the beginning of this film, when 007 snatches off the gal's bikini top, there's a quick flash of Euro-nipple before she covers 'em. It takes patience and skill to freeze the exact right frame.
Your diligent fan,
Andy Morse
San Francisco

Dear Andy:
Sorry it took me 12 weeks to answer your letter.
You're right!

Dear Joe Bob:
We are computer nerds and we love your show. When we were kids, our parents would never let us drink beer, go hunting, or drive pickup trucks. Until we started watching you on "Drive-In Theater," we all had thick-lens glasses, bow-ties, and speech impediments. One of us was even a pointy-headed liberal.
But thanks to "Drive-In Theater," we are now popular and good-looking. Our pointy-headed liberal has turned into a Rambo clone. And we hang out on the beach with the girl nerds, all of whom now look like Debra Winger and talk like Valley Girls, y'know?
In appreciation, here's a copy of our newest game program for your PC. It's called "Sex C.P.A.", and it tells you how much money to spend on a date. Of course, since this is the post-womens' lib era, young ladies can use it, too, if they ever have to pay for a date.
Best regards,
Britt Reid
Senior Programmer
RGMS Computer Systems
Washington, D.C.

Dear Britt:
It took me an hour to rip the cover off the midget record album you sent, but I like the sound of it. Isn't it early Sabbath?

Dear Joe Bob,
Did you know that the French think the idea of drive-ins is so utterly cool that they try their best to imitate them? Once a year in Bordeaux (and elsewhere, I believe), they set up a giant screen in the park, have cars line up in rows as they enter the park, and have the film voicetrack played over the radio! (A local radio station helps sponsor it and donates the air time.) They even have the local version of McDonald's ("Quick") wander around selling food. Not a bad deal--especially when you've got a cute French woman with those sexy pouting lips under your arm. Let's hear it for the French! They may have a socialist government, but they're o.k.
Karl Irving
Washington, D.C.

Dear Karl:
You forgot to mention the one problem with "le cinema al fresco."
You have to watch a French movie.

© 1989 Joe Bob Briggs All Rights Reserved

For more of Joe Bob's pre-TNT reviews in Grapevine, Texas, go to his Drive-In Reviews Archive over yonder at www.Joe Bob Briggs.com

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