ST. ELMO'S FIRE, PART X: ¡Amour Perdido!

SCENE XXXI: KEVIN AND KIRBY'S BACHELOR HOVEL – NIGHT (Cont'd)

We are at Moment of Truth for our protagonists, Kevin and Leslie. They hesitate, then….come together like two drunken ships colliding. Their lovemaking is so violent and physical, I’m surprised there were no broken teeth involved!* They fall to the floor, fumbling, bumbling, rolling around like a pair of sloshed wrestlers, Kevin whimpering, “Oh, I love you! I've always loved you!” He tires to undo her bra but she tells him the clasp is in the front.* Leslie pulls his hair and apologizes, but Kev apparently likes rough sex (“No, no, I love it! I love it!”). I wonder if he got that from Naomi…
*Remembers Ally Sheedy about this scene: “I could not wait for that to be over…I didn’t know that Andrew was going to be on top of me in a chair, looking like we were actually having sex.” For some reason, she later claimed she wasn't aware she’d have to be naked for the shower scene (?!?) and thought it would be just “kissing.” McCarthy had an equally tough time: “What I remember about it was Joel being unsatisfied that it wasn’t hot enough, passionate enough. And Joel, in the way only Joel could do, screamed out, ‘You're fucking! Action!’…Ally burst into tears and I just stood up naked and went, ‘What the fuck is the matter with you?’"

They spawn. Lots and lots and lots of sweaty, gasping later…after spawning on the couch, a chair, the coffin (little do they notice that the corpse of one of Kirbo’s first victims lies rotting inside, wrapped in lye and plastic and covered in calla lilies). The love theme plays tenderly over this scene, even though the coital carnage displayed could use some speed metal, dirty hip hop, or the regional novelty song “Knocks Things Over” by the Milwaukee singer Pat McCurdy, which we advise you play over this scene for your own amusement or refusement.*

*Let's get together and knock things over
Let's get together and wiggle around
Let's get together and knock things over
I love to see things falling down
There goes the clock, a glass of water
We can't stop although we oughtta
'Cause we're gonna get a shock when the clock gets wet
Hey there goes the remote from the TV set
There goes the lamp, there goes the table
The radio, the TV cable
And when this little bed starts to shake too much
Hey there goes an ashtray full of cigarette butts
And while this room goes up in flames
We're gonna shake the pictures right outta their frames

Ah, here comes the shower sex scene, another wonderful trope of the 80s film – think David Naughton and Jenny Augutter in An American Werewolf in London (1981), Richard Gere and Valerie Kaprinsky in Breathless (1983) or Anthony Michael Hall, Ian Mitchell-Smith and Kelly LeBrock in Weird Science (1985). This one has some comedy when they destroy the shower door, sparking the first of many far-reaching consequences for this unholy union. Poor Kevin. What would his bud Naomi the Wise Hooker say in her husky nourish late nite DJ voice? Oooo there now, secret love, you playin’ but you already payin’…

Cut to a very tender post-coital scene in Kevin’s bed, on whose sheets is finally another person’s fluids besides his own. Leslie improbably still has her pearls on. With her haircut being shorter than Kevin’s they look like two young guys in bed together. Maybe Kevin is really I love with Alec and Leslie is the closest thing he can get without having to scream into his pillow late at night. Come to think of it, Leslie and Titmouse do kind of resemble each other...

Unfortunately, in a rare example of a plot point made earlier coming back into play later, Kev gave Titmouse a key so the latter could fuck the unnamed/unseen lingerie saleslady; now it comes back to haunt Kevin when he fucks Titmouse’s wife-to-be. This scene actually makes sense: Titmouse would go over to Kevin’s because he would be full of remorse for the night previous. He reels in like a slow fungus, cig clasped in his hand, hair mussed, cracking open a tall boy and sitting on down dejectedly right in front of Kev’s bedroom partition.

I know the look on Kevin’s face: It’s over and it’s barely started. Oh life, howst thou torment me!
Oh, Leslie, what you don’t know…

TITMOUSE: I'm only gonna ask you this once. Did you tell Leslie about my screwing around?
KEVIN: (lying next to a naked Leslie) No…
TITMOUSE: (nods knowingly) I believe you. I want you to know that I believe you, and I'm sorry I hit you. (pause) I don't think that I am ever gonna be able to get Leslie back.

Nelson delivers this line with just the right amount of deflated catharsis – a tool coming to terms with the effects of his toolhood. (His delivery of the last line, with tiny micro-pauses between every other word that starts and stops the sentence like a defective golf cart, is masterful.) Titmouse has truly fallen from grace, and is it any wonder that he starts becoming a secret-sex hound once he becomes a Republican? He seems destined for a cross back over the river until Kevin appear in his ratty Archie Bunker robe: “Buddy, I kind of got some company.” Then it's he presto, Back to Tool Land!

Titmouse can’t believe it…no literally, can’t believe it. He evens giggles “I never thought it was possible!” Never thought it was possible that Kevin could ever get laid? What kind of a condescending suckditch are you anyway? Here, at last, laid bare (no pun intended) is the true core of his and Kevin’s toxic relationship. Alec keeps guys like Kevin and FuckFace (and now poor Howie) around in order to feel superior; he secretly despises them for their perceived weaknesses, and Kevin is smart enough of realize this (FuckFace isn’t) but yet still not enough of an Alpha Dog to come out and say it, preferring to hang out with Titmouse to bask in the warmth of his hot wife and the sort of reflected glory he gets from being in his presence—and he hates him for it. Especially when the Young Yuppie God turns out to be a seriously flawed, skirt-chasing yahoo. Maybe Kevin wasn’t in love with Leslie all along—maybe his deflected angter towards Titmouse manifested itself in a red hot love jones for Leslie.*
*Good Lord, Freud really has ruined film criticism, hasn’t it?

Titmouse continues to act like a drunken, insulting ass and becomes inordinately interested in the unseen lass Kevin has hidden: “Hey, just a minute. Tell me. Is it the fat chick from the party? I have to know. Is it the fat chick from the party?” This was sort of funny way back when. Now, its flatly insulting to the poor full-figured sisters out there. The term "fat chick" has come to carry such a nasty frission to it, sort of like “Jewboy” or "Lesbian." This film continues to show such a contempt for the imperfects in life, and when Leslie finally appears, bare-shouldered and wrapped in a sheet, she delivers a line supposed to be dramatically devastating:

“It's not the fat chick.”

Twenty-five years later, it now sounds ridiculous and mean-spirited. A "fat" chick getting laid is not only beyond the realm of possibility, but the sheer thought of it is ludicrous! 

Anyhoo, Alec finds out, is pissed, storms out, blah blah blah. Leslie has just punked him publicly twice in the last eight or so hours. Damn, don't fuck with Hillar--uh, Leslie!

SCENE XXXII: MR. KIM’S TOWNHOUSE – MORNING

Oh poor Mr. Kim. Note the hilarity of walking into the ruins of his mansion! Laugh at the comical situation of him once again being burned by the St. Elmo’s kids! Encountering Wendy and Howie sleeping on his stairway, instead of whipping out his samjeongdo and slicing off their heads in one swift motion, he asks them: “Where is Kirby Keager?” Wend tells him meekly: “He took my new car.” Kim suddenly realizes who he’s dealing with.

SCENE XXXIII: SKI CABIN – MORNING

After all the bullshirt Kirbo the Kockblocker has put him through, this doctor guy named Guy seems pretty cool and patient and polite. But why does he go and get a camera to take a picture of them? Why does he leave his beautiful young doctor-slash-fashion model alone with this unbalanced stalker?

Again, the scene makes nada sense. But this is par for the course. Nothing has to make sense by this point. In fact, Kirby's whole storyline – which, if you recall from our previous studies – was the basis for the original short story that later became the basis for the S.E.F. screenplay. And yet it was almost cut out by the studio execs. The only thing that saved it, according to St. Elmo's lore, was the overwhelmingly positive audience reaction to test screenings when Kirbo finally grabs Dale and gives her a huge passionate smooch. It is a yahoo moment to be sure, like when Billy from Cobra Kai gets his face kicked in at the end of The Karate Kid.

And so, with triumphant music behind him, Kirbo drives his Grand Thefted auto towards the wintry sunrise, laughing maniacally despite the ruins of people's lives (including his own) he has left in his wake.

Thus endeth Kirbo's story arc. "Later, dude!"

SCENE XXXIV: E & J CAFE – DAY

A greasy spoon on Wendy’s turf, possibly chosen passive aggressively by her to make her father feel uncomfortable, and boy does it work like a charm. Pa Beamish practically lays down sheets of plastic before sitting down at the lunch counter. Wend has her "independence, Daddy!" moment when she informs him she is returning two possessions he has give her: the Chrysler and Poor Ol' Howie Brown. Oofta! Howie now disappears in the most unceremonious way (offscreen), just like Wendy's car – although the gist seems to be that between the last scene and this, Kirby has wrecked it on his way back from the ski resort.

But Lil' Wend saves the best for last:

WENDY: I don't love Howie. I don't love him. I love Billy.
PA BEAMISH: Billy? From the roof?

Yes, Billy from the roof. Not Howie from the not-roof. Daddy's little girl is a girl no more...

SCENE XXXV: ALEC & LESLIE’S YUPPIE LOFT – DAY

The Raymond Carver scene. Jules shows up with some cardboard boxes to what looks to be a living space in the throes of a severe depression: discarded shoes and garbage lie strewn about their still-unwrapped new long couch. A blue shirt sticks out of the wall. Titmouse appears in his bathrobe holding a football amidst what looks to be a pile of dried crushed flowers. Awwww… “I took off work because I thought you wouldn't be here,” Leslie informs him. “I'm sick,” Titmouse whines. What follows is the most ridiculous break-up scene in recent memory, in which the love and commitment of a long relationship ends in a piffling battle over material possessions. Yes, it is true to life, but it’s also a great summation of 1980s materialism that later would be turned into a whole movie, 1989's The War of the Roses:

TITMOUSE: You can't have the Pretenders album. That's mine.
LESLIE: I bought it.
TITMOUSE: You did not! You can have all the Billy Joels. Except The Stranger…
LESLIE: I'm taking Thriller...and Mahler's Ninth.
TITMOUSE: Kevin...is so fond of Mahler.
LESLIE: I moved in with Jules.
TITMOUSE: “Oh, how nice. Roomies again. No Springsteen leaves this house! You can have all the Carly Simons.
LESLIE: You got me those for Valentine's Day. Remember Valentine's?

And, if we haven’t fully turned away from this guy for being an inexplicable asswipe, he drops this wonderful stream of logic:

TITMOUSE: You fucked Kevin!
LESLIE: You fucked many!
TITMOUSE: Nameless, faceless many!

Apparently, he subscribes to the Tony Soprano rules of life: rules for her, none for him. Believe it or not, many men still cling to this antiquated way of doing things. I know, I know, hard to believe.

"WASTED LOVE!!!"

TUNE IN NEXT WEEK: The Return of the Son of "What If This Scene Was Directed By...?"

ST. ELMO’S FRIDAY, PT. IX: The Sh*t H*ts

SCENE XXVI: OUTSIDE DALE & JUDITH'S APARTMENT - NIGHT

Kirbo’s snowboarding right off the edge of sanity continues to get a cheerfully nonchalant treatment in this scene:

KIRBO: Get off the phone and open this door!
JUDITH: Are you the maniac that's been trying to cut in on my line? Ah, I should have known.
KIRBO: Where's Dale?
JUDITH: She. Went. Skiing!
KIRBO: What do you mean? Where?
JUDITH: Why should I tell you?
KIRBO: Because I'm not responsible for what I'll do to you if you don't!

Again, that last line that seemed cool back when we first saw this film, but now seems so wrong on so many different levels that it seems reckless for the filmmakers to even try to pass it off as a moment we should cheer for. Seriously, what would you do if you were a woman alone at night and some wingnut in a tux is standing under your window directly threatening you? This does not work in real life and we have the police reports to prove it.

SCENE XXVII: ALLEYWAY OUTSIDE BILLY & FELICE'S HOUSE - NIGHT

The ugliness continues as we switch over to our pair of wild children Jules and FuckFace, who pull up in the alleyway in Jules’ Jeep. Like true substance abusers, they don’t wasn’t the party to end. You don’t have to go home but you can’t stay here, folks… A perfect petri dish for date rape. It’s even hinted that FuckFace and Jules have gone horizontal at least once before.

FuckFace is really in rare form in this scene, first asking Jules – who is obviously shaken – “What you got on underneath that skirt?” Such a gentleman. After a awkward and depressing stab at making out, Jules tries to back out and Mr. Face responds with uncommon tenderness and understanding: “Come on. Don't save it for your boss.” Any remnant of a romantic mood is completely atomized in a million shards when he tells her: “You wouldn't have so much to say with me in your mouth.” And that’s not even the most offensive thing he says (or does) in this scene! When Jules finally kicks him out of the jeep, she lays a pretty good line on him: “You break my heart. But then again, you break everyone's heart.”

Ouch. She leaves him in the cold dark alleyway as the door to his house opens and there stands Felice like a Russian babushka, clutching their baby. Up with mournful, Kenny G-like sax break. Truly a low moment.

SCENE XXVIII: SKI CABIN – NIGHT

For this semi-pivotal scene, we'd like to try something a little different this week: Imagining how a specific scene would play out if directed by someone other than Joel Schumacher.

IF THIS SCENE WAS DIRECTED BY: Michael Haneke

We see various black and white shots of the cold and forbidden wintry landscape. Over this comes the sound of someone knocking politely on a door.

CUT TO KIRBO’s fist knocking on the door to a private cabin.

GUY: Who is it?

KIRBO: Ah, yes. Is Dale Biberman there?

GUY: Who wants to know?

KIRBO: Ah, it’s a medical emergency…

GUY opens the door. He’s a rugged-looking DOCTOR-type wrapped in a bearskin rug.

CUT TO Kirby standing on the front stoop wearing a golf outfit: white shirt, white shorts, white socks, white golf shoes, tan golfing gloves – all despite the below-zero temp. He is leaning on a nine iron and smiling politely.

GUY: Who the hell are you?

KIRBO: I’m sorry to disturb you at this hour, sir.

GUY: (noticing KIRBY’s getup) You’re a long way from the sandtrap there, fella.

DALE appears next to GUY, hastily putting on a robe.

DALE: Kirby! What are you doing here?

GUY: You know this guy?

KIRBO: (smiles, waves) Hi Dale!

DALE: Uh, yes…yes…he came into the ER last month when one of his friends got hurt…

GUY: (to DALE) Is there something I should know?

DALE: No, Guy. He’s just a friend from college…

GUY: A “friend”? Well your “friend” says there’s some sort of medical emergency.

KIRBY: (shivers) Yeah! Frostbite!

GUY: Dale, this guy is crazy…

DALE: Kirby, please. Come inside.

GUY: What?!

KIRBO: No, it’s OK. I'll stay in the car.

GUY: See? It’s OK. He wants to stay in the car.

DALE: He'll freeze!

KIRBO: Well, I do have some snow chains in my trunk. (to GUY) If you wouldn't mind...?

GUY: (sighs) Fine.

CUT TO inside the cabin a brief time later. The TV is on, running a NASCAR race. We hear the muffled sound of someone breathing heavily. We slowly pull back from the TV image to reveal KIRBY, sitting in a new pair of pajamas and eating a bowl of popcorn. We hear moaning and KIRBY’s head turns, annoyed at this interruption.

KIRBO: Look, I know you guys are falling in love over there, but could you keep it to a dull roar?

CUT TO the full living room of the cabin: GUY lies on the floor, trussed like a turkey with Kirby’s snow-tire chains. He is obviously dead. The bloodied nine iron sits propped up against the wall behind the body.

KIRBO: My clothes should be dry in a few hours. Thanks for letting me use your pajamas. Nice and snuggly!

DALE sits tied up and gagged in a chair directly facing the wall. She has a crudely made dunce cap on her head and her face is scrawled in lipstick with Annie Hall-related graffiti: “Mashed yeast,” “Marshall McLuhan,” “Sorrow and the Pity,” “escaped lobsters.”

KIRBO: Look, it’s okay Dale. I understand that we weren’t meant to be. And I just want to tell you I’m fine with that. Really, I am. (yawns and stretches) Welp. I don’t know about you but I’m beat. Time to hit the hay!

He gets up and puts on his bloodstained golfing gloves. He slips on a pair of safety goggles. He hefts an electric drill in his left hand.

KIRBY: We'll talk in the morning.

He hits the ‘ON’ switch and walks out of the shot.

SCENE XXIX: KIRBY & KEVIN’S BACHELOR HOVEL – NIGHT

Herein we find out how creepy Kevin and Kirby's apartment really is – even without Kirby around.
Leslie has decided to spend the night here and we see how she starts to sort of regret it with a halting deer-in-the-headlights look on her face and her terse noting of the more disconcerting elements of Kev's "woman trap" and how they all seem to be wrapped around one theme: "Is that a coffin?" "I thought girls would think it was sexy."; "When did you win these writing awards?" "Oh, never. They're more effect to impress young ladies." Then Leslie finds a mountain of photos of herself and yet still doesn't get creeped out and flee this subterranean man-grotto.

True to how characters act in this film – zero logic – Leslie stays and both her and Kev get their liquor on. This leads to a a Bushmill-soaked confession session between our wounded love warriors. They are affected in differing ways: Leslie gets more self-absorbed; Kevin gets more goofy and wimpy. He is the sensitive "emotional (man) friend" who loves a girl so much he's willing to become the confessee to her complaining about a "bad boy" who treats her like shit. He can't even bring himself to trash Titmouse for his abominable behavior: "Whatever we say about Alec we'll regret tomorrow."

But finally, he reverts back to junior high school and the sexy singer with the Karen Carpenter pipes whom he pledged his love to whilst drunk: "Well, I think I hang around you guys so much, personally...because, well, you're all I think about."

LESLIE: Me?
KEVIN: And I think that the reason I'm not interested in other women and why I haven't had sex in so long is because I am desperately, completely in love with you. We won't even remember this tomorrow, huh?
LESLIE: Kevin. It is tomorrow.

TUNE IN NEXT WEEK: More of this pointlessness.

ST. ELMO’S FRIDAY, PT. VIII: The Devil Went Down in D.C.

SCENE XXI: FRAT ROW, GEORGETOWN U. – NIGHT

"The man, the myth, the legend! The one and only Billy the Kid!"

My second favorite scene involving FuckFace. There’s something quite poignant here despite all of the douchy behavior that obscures it. We see him in his existential shades and ratty old school jacket, walking across the autumnal village green of Fraternity Row. Like a true narcissist, he stops before his old frat house and waits to be noticed. It doesn’t take long. We see the glorious welcome develop like catching fire: some kids hanging out in front of the house see him and run in to grab Troy, a towheaded North Virginia good ol’ boy who comes bounding down the steps like a welcoming warlord. Billy, wearing blue socks over his pants cuffs for some reason, runs up and they do a double-hand high-five. Everybody cheers. Billy the Kid is home again!

Cut to an action shot of FuckFace and his acolytes playing a rompin’ game of tackle football. He and Troy tumble in the dirt and then have a bromancy “just like old times moment.” Lowe’s face when he says “old times” and smiles couldn’t be more phony. You can’t help seeing him thinking about where they were all going to go out partying that night—meaning him, Judd, Emilio, Demi—and that, Yeah man, I’m famous and I’m gonna get famouser. Life is swiggity-sweet! Lemme just get my “old times” face on so we can go out and grab the brass rings that are owed us!

Fuck Face, ever testing out all the angles, tries a ham-handed attempt at charity-work—for himself: “Troy, man, I was thinking that maybe I could get a job on campus with the students. The fraternity, coaching. Anything.”

Soooo, you want a job as a “coach” for an informal pickup touch football team. Right. Uh-huh.

TROY: Oh yeah! We could use somebody like you around here, Billy!
FUCKFACE: Really?
TROY: Yeah, we need somebody to get us some good drugs, man!

WHANG ZING!! BUZZ KILL!! Billy’s reaction is classic: utter deflation. Is this all I meant to you guys? Yep. That’s why it sucks to be a guy. That’s why it sucks to be a legendary party animal. Unless one of your frat mates grows up to be Jack Kerouac and writes a bestselling novel about a character that was based on your legendary wild behavior back in the day a la Dean Moriarty, the stories you are racking up will evaporate, and your bros who once cheered you and egged you on will be looking at you in nostalgia-tinged pity from their barcalounger in their plush living room in their beautiful house whose couch your are currently crashing on after your 11th rehab stint. There’s no retirement dinner once a great party boy retires. There’s no grand speech from your successors praising your time in the sun, no gold watch, no Tiki torches. One day you just show up ready to go like you always have and you’ll hear a pipsqueak’s voice behind you, utterly unafraid of any consequences you could bring down on them: “Who let the old guy in here?”

Cut to a rather unappealing looking baby looking happily at a cheap rattle. Poor Felice is minding her young daughter: “What is that, your rattle?” she coos to the child, holding back from saying: Where is your daddy? Wasting our time again? Chasing pipe dreams? You and I have a looooot to talk about when you’re older, gal young ‘un… The bitter-lemon look she gives FuckFace is like a cornered viper – it almost looks as if she’s going to bite him. Then, out of nowhere, she drops another bomb on our boy: “Remember Ray Slater? The guy I was going out with before I met you? Well, he came by to see me yesterday. He still wants to marry me. He said he'd take care of me and Melody.”

FUCKFACE: Don't you give up on me.
FELICE: We could probably still get an annulment...
FUCKFACE: No! I'm gonna change. I'm gonna get the right job. Look, there's gonna be no more drinking. And no more women. You're not gonna believe how out of hand it's gonna be!

The fact that he used his patented phrase “out of hand” – obviously cribbed from Alfred Lord Tennyson – does not bode well for this promise, does it? It’s interesting that although the filmmakers offer our FuckFace an easy way out that any decent young man in the prime of his life wouldn’t leap on in a millisecond, he stubbornly turns it down. I mean how hard does a guy have to be hit in the face with Divine Luck before he notices it? Is this some sort of cautionary scene about the mental aftereffects of beer-bonging?

SCENE XXII: MR. KIM’S TOWNHOUSE – DAY

We are back with poor Mr. Kim, the “Korean gangster” whom Alec set up with FuckFace. Now – because that proved so successful – he’s let Alec talk him into talking with by far the most stable member of this privileged gaggle: “Krazy Killer Kirby” Kaeger. Meethinks after this, Mr. Kim will divest young Mr. Newbury of his thumbs.

MR. KIM: I work out of my house. You must be available 24 hours a day. Complete discretion and loyalty. $500 a week.
KIRBO: I'm your man, Mr. Kim!
MR. KIM: I must be able to trust you with my house, my car, my private affairs.
KIRBO: Look no further, Mr. Kim. I'm your man!

Kirbo, in this scene, sits next to a large potted ficus tree: both strangely sit at the exact same angle. Is Schumacher making some sort of visual pun that Mr. Kim fails to pick up on that he would be better off hiring a potted plant to look after his house than this scrubbed-cheek spiked-haired cherub in front of him?

Kirbo puts up a good front – the ladies’ underwear under his suit is probably helping – but don’t all psychos when they’re putting together their terrible secret plans for the rest of us? We think that, maybe somewhere, Mr. Kim recognizes that Kirby is like him – insane yet capable, a functioning upwardly mobile sociopath who will dominate the crooked and shadowy world of D.C. power brokers when he and the old guard are all dead. He sees himself in this pink, red haired, corn-fed jocko-homo. Perhaps Kirby could be for him what Richard “The Iceman” Kuklinski was for the Gambinos, Luca Brasi was for the Corleones or Chris Partlow was for Marlo Stansfield: his personal angel of death.

SCENE XXIII: HOSPITAL PARKING LOT – DAY

Kirbo, who's gotten the job, pokes his head out of Mr. Kim’s Mercedes and hisses at the snarky private chauffeur to open his door. She reluctantly does as she is told and Kirbs springs out of the car towards where Dale Biberman is walking into work, not with a dagger or poison acid or straight razor in his hand but a copy of the Wall St. Journal, because he is a lame-o.

Later, at the trial, the chauffeur will be called as a witness. Here is an exerpt from her testimony:

PROSECUTOR: What did Mr. Kaeger do then?
CHAUFFEUR: (holding hanky) Well, um, then he walked towards the deceas—uh, Miss Biberman.
PROSECUTOR: Did he have the chainsaw in his hand at that time?
DEFENSE: Objection your honor. Using the power of suggestion!
JUDGE: Sustained. Keep your mentalist tricks out of this courtroom, counselor.
PROSECUTOR: Noted, your honor. (puts away spinning hypnotism wheel) Thank you. I put it to you again, miss: what was the accused carrying in his hand when he approached the victim?
CHAUFFEUR: I…I don’t…
PROSECUTOR: Answer the question!
CHAUFFEUR: I’m, I’m sorry…I can’t…
PROSECUTOR: You mean you can’t, or you won’t!
DEFENSE: Objection!
JUDGE: Counselor, I’ve told you about your liberal quoting of Mr. Hand from Fast Times at Ridgemont High, which Vincent Canby of the New York Times once called “a vulgar bargain-basement teen fantasia.”
PROSECUTOR: (takes ‘I Don’t Know’ sign off his neck) I’m sorry, your honor. Now, miss, would you please tell us what Mr. Kaeger was holding in his hand when he approached the hot leggy sawbones.
CHAUFFEUR (crying copiously) I can’t, I can’t, I’m sorry…it’s just too…
PROSECUTOR: I know it’s hard…
CHAUFFEUR: …too LAME. He was holding the Wall St. Journal, folded up like he had been reading it, with a couple of articles outlined in red pen with the words ‘ask jules’ written on them.
[The courtroom gasps.]
JUDGE: Sorry. I’ll turn the heat down in here.
PROSECUTOR: And what happened next?
CHAUFFEUR: Well, uh, then Miss Biberman, said, ‘Kirby, what are you up to?’ And Mr. Kaeger told her that he had just been handpicked as special attaché to Mr. Kim Sung Ho.
PROSECUTOR: The famous Korean entrepreneur?
CHAUFFEUR: (looking both ways rapidly with her eyes) Yes, uh, “entrepreneur”….
PROSECUTOR: Go on.
CHAUFFEUR: So, um, she’s all ‘What about medical school?’ and he’s all ‘Foolish pipe dreams, Dale. I had to grab my financial opportunities while I could. It's all about money, right?’ and she’s all ‘Well, good luck’ and he’s all 'I'm throwing a little party at Kim's house on Saturday night. I'd like to see you there’ and she’s all ‘Thanks, Kirby. I'll try’ and he’s all ‘good deal!’…”
DEFENSE: Objection! You honor, how long do we have to stand for this? The witness is obviously regressing to some sort of tween mall-chick state…
JUDGE: Overruled. I’ll allow this, but watch yourself, counselor…
PROSECUTOR: Thank you for the leeway, your honor. In order to return our witness from her regressive state I have elected to admit to evidence exhibit C… (pulls out Dale Biberman’s skull with the doctor’s reflector cap still on it on it and shoves it in her face) ‘Why are you continuously late to this class, Mr. Spicoli? Why do you shamelessly waste my time like this?’
DEFENSE: Objection!! Your Honor!!

And so on and so on and so on…

SCENE XXIV: STREET OUTSIDE ALEC & LESLIE’S YUPPIE LOFT – NIGHT

Wendy and our man Howie are canoodling like a couple of young lovers from a Booth Tarkington novel, standing by a gleaming new lemon-yellow Chrysler LeBaron convertible. She is obviously leading him on, and he’s buying it hook, sink, and liner. Alec and Leslie, dressed for the evening, show up to meet them. Alec sees the car and asks Howie: “So does this mean that you're officially engaged?” Howie, fresh and peppy as a puppy, emotes proudly: “Yeah!” before Wend cuts him off at the balls: “No, it means I'm officially thinking about it.” Howie backs down meekly: “Uh, well...” Alec uses this as a cue for a little emotional blackmail.

ALEC: What is this, Howie? Didn't you think women were always dying to get married?
POOR, DOOMED HOWIE: Not to me.

SCENE XXV: KIRBO'S PARTY - NIGHT

The foursome arrives at Mr. Kim’s townhouse, where a swingin’ party down the line is happening, complete with smiling Korean houseboy in a white jacket bearing a tray of bubbly. In his delusional state Kirbo has decided to completely replicate the party at which he stalked Dale Biberman. He has also apparently decided to share credit for the party with the ficus tree. Seeing as it did so well in Mr. Kim’s job interview, Kirb has decided not to see it as a competitor for Mr. Kim’s affections. It sits right next to the front door, greeting guests and taking coats.

Oh look, the chauffeur has joined in on the action. John Parr's "Man in Motion" plays over the scene – again. Apparently, there is no other music for this crowd. These Washingtonians have not heard the booty-bumpin’ black DC club music called “go-go” or its signpost acts like EU ("Da Butt"), Trouble Funk ("The Devil Went Down in D.C.") and Chuck Brown ("Bustin' Loose"). If this scene plays now, of course, there’d be a little Jay-Z or Three 6 Mafia on the stere--uh, iPod.

POLITICAL PARTYIN' D.C STYLE: Marion Barry Dances to Trouble Funk

Resplendent in a rented tux with red tie and cummerbund, Kirbo has become sort of a hair-gelled version of Jay Gatsby, putting on a huge party for one person who never shows. (Daisy = Dale, get it?) FuckFace, Alec and Howie all sport the 80’s layered look, with Alec and Howie both wearing British style v-neck sweaters under their sports coats. (Are Alec and Howie brothers under the skin?) They wander past Kevin, who's busy yammering away to a bunch of underclassmen: “You are so wrong. College is a four-year delusion so you don't have to deal with reality. Hi, Les! You're lambs waiting to be slaughtered, you undergrads…” This is the crucial point of the film where Kevin becomes tiresome.

Howie and Wendy pass FuckFace, who is wearing by far the worst tie of this film: a gold lamé number that like all of his ties looks to have been taken right out of a Salvation Army bin. The three regard each other warily, like gunfighters. Wendy tries to stammer out an introduction but Howie beats her to it, saying “Howie” before she’s finished with her sentence. (This might be the only improvised moment in this film, and it’s a wonderful one amidst a Gobi desert of spontaneity.) Howie politely shakes Billy’s hand and then says nervously but commandingly: “Well, we'll see you a little later, okay?” Howie is growing some balls: Wendy’s harpie sister was right, he is a “fine young man.” Howie = 1. FuckFace = 0.

Alec wastes no time in pouncing on our boy: “Billy, I want you to know I'm not gonna be getting you any more jobs.” Billy responds in mocking turn: “Al, you're so perfect. Such a young God. You not only have the right stuff, you have the right job and the right hair. I, of course, have the wrong hair.” As he says this, he nearly bumps into his own doppelganger—if you freeze frame, they make the exact same motion at the exact same time—with the same wrong hair, the same bad fashion sense (orange Hawaiian shirt under grey linen jacket), same dickweed smile. They never know the other’s there, but they pass within inches. Creepy.

Les, Jules and Wend are standing to the side, klatching. Jules is wearing by far her worst outfit to date: a pink leather jacket with her hair crimped from a Belgian waffle iron and silver lipstick later popularized by erotic dancers in the 1990s:

JULES: Forrester said he wanted to know what I'm looking for in this relationship. So I told him love, companionship and the vice-presidency. (throws her head back and cackles like Roseanne)
WENDY: Sounds like you have your boss wrapped around your finger.
JULES: I ever tell you what he likes me to do with my finger? (puts her arm around Wendy’s neck, almost burning her with a cigarette, blows smoke in Wendy’s face)

FuckFace, ever the enabler, oozes out of the crowd to lope a tentacle around Jules to pull her away for some line-snortin’.

(Note: Schumacher places Poor Howie in the background just to the left of Wendy. Initially, it looks as if he’s having a conversation with someone offscreen, but it soon turns out Howie is just standing there in the corner in his itchy green sweater and yellow shirt, gazing forlornly at Wendy as she completely ignores him. Here, Howie is cast in the same role as Myra from the homeless soup kitchen, pushed to the margins yet staring wonderingly, fascinated, by our vapid main characters.)

Wendy has broken away from Howie – how is he faring all by himself? “Uh, no thank you, I’m allergic to paté” before sneezing all over the proffered tray – and is standing out on Mr. Kim’s brick patio. There is some sort of visual metaphor set adrift here: the patio furniture has been covered over with white tarps, which blow in the stiff autumn wind. (“Summer’s over kids, time to grow up and die!”) There is romance in the air, which FuckFace promptly ruins by revealing that he hocked his beloved sax to pay the phone bill and then asking Wendy if she’s “still...a virgin?” (Implication: “You did it with HOWIE rather than ME?!”) Wend finally sprouts some moxie: “That's none of your business.” Yeah, Wend! Unfortunately, she ignores the tingly sensation she feels and unconsciously squeezes her rubberized thighs together. Meanwhile, inside, Howie gets his tie caught in the bathroom door. In front of a lot of people.

Cut to a rapidly unraveling Kirbo on the phone, tracking down Miss Biberman: “Yeah, hi. By any chance, did Dale Biberman get called in on an emergency duty tonight? Okay. Thanks.” Perhaps juiced by the word “emergency”, he tries an “emergency breakthrough” usually reserved for disasters like flash floods and fires. But Dale’s roommate isn’t having it: “I want you to make another emergency breakthrough. Do you hear me? She won't release it? Did you tell her who's calling? Did you tell her I was giving a goddamn party for her?!”

Kirbo slams down the phone and angrily storms out of his own party. He is now in full psychotic-break form, capable of just about anything. He passes FuckFace, who in the middle of his 11th screwdriver woozily watches him go before stumbling sloppily over to the coke-snorting table, joining Jules and a now completely hottied-out chauffeur, who as it turns out is quite the coke connoisseur. “Make room! The kid can’t fly on one wing!” FuckFace announces as Jules hands him mirror and straw. It is here that I usually imagine a threeway between FF, Jules and the hot chauffeur. (What can I say? I'm a product of my time.) Imagine this scenario: Jules and the chauffeur and FF go to a nearby political rally for Senator Hodges the Hotel Van Buren and videotape themselves having sex and dropping X; afterwards, FuckFace passes out and Jules and the chauffeur steal his wallet and sell the tape to Meet the Press. It might look something like this:

Ah, dreams…wait, IS THAT ANOTHER GUY!?

ALEC: Quiet, please! Quiet, please! Quiet, please. Everyone! Thank you. Big Al has an announcement to make!
SARCASTIC GUY: Oh, well, now we're excited.

Kevin inadvertently invents hip-hop scratching by pulling the needle off the record, which of course, is STILL “Man in Motion,” a record which is really making the rounds of the Georgetown party circuit.

ALEC: On June 1, Leslie Hunter will do me the long, long, long-awaited honor of becoming my bride. You're all invited! Thank you very much. Howie, let's make this a double wedding.

When Alec says Leslie’s name, he almost puts his arm around Howie. Alec, we notice, has pushes his coat sleeves up to his elbows and has removed his crème-white cashmere v-neck, indicating he is really sloshed and feelin’ silly. Leslie, who was doing party-type things like adjusting the flowers by the stereo (weaselly Kevin lurks nearby), throws a conniption. She stalks across the room with some difficulty in her tight long spinster dress and shorty boots, pulls Alec into the kitchen, where they both stand correspondingly by two sinks filled with bags of ice.

LESLIE: What's the matter with you? Cut it out! We discussed this at home. Now you completely discount me!
ALEC: (acting innocent, grinning, hands in pocket, rocking on his heels like Johnny Carson giving a monologue) I'm just trying to facilitate the marriage process.
LESLIE: You want marriage or a Christmas card with the Newberrys in front of a fireplace?
ALEC: You're afraid to commit!
LESLIE: No, I'm not afraid to commit. I have to have something for myself first before I can share it with you.*
*I’m not proud of it, but this is one of the lines I subconsciously have picked up from this film over the years and have used repeatedly in my adult life, mostly to avoid commitment. I used it for so long that I actually started believing that I came up with it; when I found out it wasn’t original, and what the source material was, I was very upset. It’s a condition peculiar to us member of the Media Cocoon generation. There’s certainly a case to be made for subliminal suggestion.

ALEC: Oh, will you just for once not use as the excuse for not marrying me your god-damn career?

This line is delivered in a classic Judd Nelson hectoring/mocking tone of voice. God, he sounds like such an exquisite asshole, and his assholeness really spikes like a fever and doesn’t let up for the rest of the film. Is this, like The Big Chill, more the tale of a young hero fallen in the eyes of his adoring college friends? Alec never becomes likable after this, not that he was that likable before… in fact, from now on, we’re referring to Alec as “Titmouse."

Still, it’s easy to imagine Bill and Hillary Clinton having this conversation sometime back when they met at Yale:

LESLIE: Fine. All right then. I have a better excuse. What are we going to do about your extracurricular love life?
TITMOUSE: What extracurricular love life?
LESLIE: Alec, come on.
TITMOUSE: What did Kevin tell you?

Similar to many moments in this film, this comes out of nowhere. Up until now we, like Titmouse, had no indication whatsoever that Leslie had caught on to his garden rompin’. It just appears – poof! – and we’re supposed to buy it. Remember us bitching about the loose plot thread of him going to work for Senator Hodges? (No? Well, we did.) How about making Titmouse’s dalliance some hot chick in Senator Hodges office, tie those two loose threads together? That way it would be more believable for Leslie to catch on without too much explanation. But explanation seems not to be what this movie’s about.

Still, there’s much to be said for Les’s approach. Turns out she didn’t really know, she suspected, and then bamboozled Titmouse, who thought he was such a hot-shit political strategist, into admitting his infidelities. Thus comes the impression that Titmouse is more pissed at her for duping him than he is at Kevin for supposedly spilling the beans. Still, he’s gotta do yet another alpha-dog thing and rush to the living room and throw poor hapless Kevin to the ground, screaming down at him: “What did you tell her?” before Leslie calmly slides the knife in and twists: “He told me nothing. It was just a hunch...until now.” Again, the poor John Parr song is scratched off the record. Must be getting pretty worn by now.

Alec has that classic Alec moment. Right in front of everybody, he tells Leslie with mock hurt: “I want you out of the apartment tonight.” The party starts up again.

TUNE IN NEXT WEEK: Where we examine the significant fallout from Kirbo’s party and finally get to our long-delayed new feature: ‘What If This Scene Was Directed By…?’ We promise. Pinky-swear.

ST. ELMO’S FRIDAY, PT. VII: Kirbo Rising

SCENE XV: ALLEYWAY – NIGHT

Our poor shabbified Kevin has his second pointless encounter in the alley with his “secret love,” Madame Naomi.* “What would you say the meaning of life is?” he asks her. “Got 50 bucks? I'll show you the meaning of life,” she replies.

KEVIN: I don't pay for sex.
NAOMI: Oh, no? You think that if you get a little wife or girlfriend that you don't pay? You pay. Then you can't be sure you'll get it. With Naomi...You pay, and you get it. You get it gooooooood.

While she says this, she does some sort of hooker tongue-roll that is enough to take away my attention from the fact that the scene serves absolutely no purpose (as does scenes IV, V, VIII, X, XI, XVII…). Naomi disappears from the rest of the film.
*Director Joel Schumacher – whom Rob Lowe referred to as “Mr. Schu” – included the scenes with Naomi after witnessing a similar conversation between a hooker and his limo driver. You can’t make this stuff up.

SCENE XVI: SOUP KITCHEN - DAY

Here’s another one of those proto-Mad Men scenes where we see our stylized leads intermingling with marginal characters from marginal backgrounds. This time it’s the homeless population of urban D.C., who mull silently around Jules, Leslie and Wendy like George Romero’s zombies. Wendy comforting an uptight chef who complains they won’t have enough food to feed the populace and Wendy assures him “Oh, we'll have plenty. We'll be fine. There'll be enough.” (If she had this job, Jules probably would have made some sort of “let them eat cake” remark shortly before being decapitated.)

Leslie and Jules want to take Wend to lunch at Le Petit Château, but Wendy balks on how this will look. Leslie suggests they eat at the soup kitchen. Jules gives her a look like she just asked them to wade across a cesspool in their bathing suits. “And for our entrée,” she whines, “Campbell mushroom barley. How chic.” She is quickly tying up FuckFace as the most reprehensible character in this lil’ passion play. Wend introduces them to Myra, a gaunt, sallow bag lady with blackened circles under her eyes and a man’s wool cap shoved down on her head. She nods politely to the ladies and moves on, more interested in the food. Go, Myra!

Quite coincidentally, the ladies are discussing another outcast:

LESLIE: How's Howie?
WENDY: Well, I wouldn't say my father's trying to bribe me, but he did offer me a convertible if I'd get engaged to Howie.
JULES: Have you fucked him yet?
WENDY: Jules! God!
JULES: Get the car, fuck him, and if you don't like it, break the engagement. (beat) Then you can still fuck him!

Like Lowe, Moore has a way of making this loathsome character attractive – mainly, by tossing her head back and laughing outrageously. She does it again once the girls sit down in the cafeteria next to Myra, who begins staring at Jules as if she were some sort of desert mirage. Leslie and Wendy reveal that they’re staging some sort of behavior intervention for her affair with her boss. Jules responds with a nice summation of the future of reality-based fame that will prove to be quite accurate: “Leslie, this is the '80s. I bop him, get his job when he gets his hand caught in the vault become a legend, get caught in a sex scandal, retire in massive disgrace, write a bestseller and become the host of my own talk show.”

Myra: Falling in Love

\

Jules also has plans for her lingering stepmonster: “It turns out cremation is just as expensive as the non-torch method. If I don't come up with a cheaper solution, I'll end up a bag lady.” (beat) Of course, I'll have alligator bags.” (laughs and throws head back again)

She excuses herself from the intervention, saying she has to go meet Forrester. Myra watches Jules sweep out of the room, transfixed. Les and Wend shake their head: “She’s worse.” They should have called Candy Finnegan.

SCENE XVII: BANKS OF THE POTOMAC – DAY

Shot in the gauzy, creamy light of a Summer’s Eve commercial, Leslie and Wend stroll down a cobblestone walkway, unmolested by the homeless people who have all been gathered up and deposited at the soup kitchen. Discussing Billy and Alec, Wendy equates FuckFace with another lethal habit, smoking: “I go as long as I can, and then I just gotta have a hit.” They agree in a much-quoted line: “Men: Can't live with them, can't shoot them.” Yeah, that Howie, what an ogre.

SCENE XVIII: MR. KIM’S TOWNHOUSE – DAY

In the previous scene, Leslie alluded to FuckFace's new job: “Alec's got him working for this Korean gangster and I think Billy's doing a really good job.” Cut immediately to FuckFace doing quite a job on some blonde in Mr. Kim Sung Ho's hot tub while awful hard rock plays on the stereo. Kim (Mario Machado) arrives home early and FF is ready with a roguish smile and winking demeanor:

FUCKFACE: Kiiiiiiim! I thought you were comin’ back on Thursday!*

*“Billy had done well. I was proud of him. He fucked up good and proper.”

SCENE XIX: SWANKY GEORGETOWN PARTY – NIGHT

An exquisitely wrong scene – a testament to the power of an upbeat musical score to smooth over troublesome behavior and give a subtle “thumbs up” to whatever behavior we’re watching. Kirbo, who by this time I completely forgot was even in the picture, hunches on his oversized Special-Ed bike beneath a tree on a street outside Dale Biberman’s apartment building. It begins to rain; Kirbo simply flips up his collar. Dale’s red Datsun pulls out of its parking garage and Kirbo starts following it, almost getting hit by a car – death by this time means nothing to him – and then almost skidding into another car as he pulls up outside a tony G-Town mansion, replete with valets in red jackets holding an umbrella over Dale as she slides effortlessly out of her car and floats into the party.

Cut to a shot that looks like it should be out of a horror movie a la He Knows You’re Alone or When A Stranger Calls: behind a tray of champagne glasses, the camera slowly moves towards the rain-beaded window as Kirbo’s face rises slowly up into view*, soaked to the bone, with a menacing, slitted expression that is decidedly at odds with the upbeat version of the S.E.F. theme. He focuses on the vision of Miss Biberman removing her head-wrap (with the help of an attending servant) and unfolding her gorgeous tresses. Schumacher lights her in a lovely shot, slowing the frames down so that we can get a view of this unattainable beauty from Kirbo’s feverish eyes. Very Martin Scoresees.

*STUDY GROUP QUESTION: This shot is eerily similar to the shot of Martin Sheen rising out of the jungle muck with a painted face in Francis Coppola's Apocalypse Now. Did Schumacher intend this as a homage to Emilio's dad?

Cut to another horror movie trope: a point-of-view shot a la Halloween moving unsteadily through the party, as a nervous voice offscreen asks: “Excuse me, sir, do you have an invitation?” The voice drops away, another strange moment. Wouldn’t Kirbo be immediately ejected from the party? How does he even get in?

We see Dale talking happily to someone before she notices the soaked pathetic figure before her, dripping all over the floor and into her champagne glass, glaring at her with puma-like intensity.

DALE: Kirby! How are you?

KIRBO: I'm obsessed, thank you very much.

Enough for a restraining order right there.

SCENE XX: DALE & JUDITH'S APARTMENT – NIGHT

THIS SCENE MAKES EVEN LESS SENSE THAN THE LAST ONE!!! With no explanation or exposition whatsoever, we are suddenly back in Dale’s abode. She has brought Kirbo home! Are we supposed to believe this? That she would immediately leave this swanky party – where no doubt she knows she’s being checked out by rich eligible bachelors – with this weaselly wingnut she barely knows? Then again, there were plenty of witnesses to see them leave together, so that’ll bode well for the murder trial later.

Dale gives her version Kelly LeBrock’s famous “don’t hate me because I’m beautiful” defense: “But you don't even know me. I'm very average. Full of flaws. I'm a slob. I can't even make a bed straight. I steal People magazine from my dentist's office. And look. I rarely take out the garbage. Here's my roommate, Judith. She hates me!”

Judith has entered with two arms full of groceries and agrees with Dale (“I hate her”) and we can see why. Judith – played by the usually gorgeous Gina Hecht (Mork & Mindy, Night Shift) appears as a frumpy, ill-tempered, badly dressed, chap-lipped roommate, the kind of chick who continuously whines “I want to leeeeave” while you’re trying to mack on her hot friend. We get the drift that Judith might be one of those friends Dale keeps around to make herself feel better, or that Judith is a tight-lipped lesbian who rooms with Dale for one reason and one reason only. When Judith catches Kirbo sniffing one of Dale’s pillows (ick!), she is immediately clued in to what he really is: a rival for Dale’s affections. Back off, you! I’m workin’ to turn this goddess!

Dale, who has a skull with a doctor’s reflector one it perched in her apartment, prattles on: “And here's the worst of all. When I first decided to be a doctor, I thought I wanted to serve people. But now, well, I'm starting to feel that what medicine's really all about is money.”

No shit. Kirbo, with no warning, responds: “It's money, isn't it? That's what you're telling me. It's because I don't have any money. Well, thank you for being so honest.”

He rushes out the door. Does this make any sense? Is this just a scene out of Kribo’s fevered imagination? Was intimidated by all of the wealth he saw at the party? If so, why does he flee once he sees Dale’s apartment – obviously like him she’s still halfway between poverty and wealth, so it would make sense to strike now, before she gets ruined by her profession.

TUNE IN NEXT WEEK: Dale gets ruined by her profession.

ST. ELMO’S FRIDAY, PT. VI: Enter Howie

SCENE XIII: BEAMISH MANSE – NIGHT

Maybe this goes beyond my life experience, but the most slavishly money-and-status worshipping families I’ve known have all been WASPs. I’m sure there are large Jewish families who revel in their wealth, but the Beamishs really take the knish. They should be an entire exhibit at the Museum of Tolerance.

Pa Beamish (the great caper-flick character actor, Martin Balsam – check out his work in the original Taking of Pelham 1-2-3 and The Anderson Tapes) stands before his family by their tacky-elegant McMansion fireplace, prattling on about his growing greeting card empire, which seems to have swallowed the entire family save for Wend: “And this is our first store, built in 1953. We now have 24 Cardaterias – the largest greeting cards franchise in the East!” After silently coming in his pants, Pa recovers quick enough to ask FuckFace: “What line are you in?” FuckFace, already trashed, replies: “Munitions.” Wendy thinks this is hilarious. What an enabler!

Meanwhile, Wendy’s rigidly coiffed yenta sisters pester her about moving out of the house (wait wait, she still lives at home?): “Don't bring up moving out. Daddy'll have a heart attack in front of your boyfriend.”
WENDY: He's not my boyfriend!
LIBBY: Well, then there's a nice young guy working for us. Howie Krantz!
Just by his name, we know he’s going to be a dud. Poor Howie! Stranded at the card shop, Branded a foooool....

Cut to Ma Beamish (Joyce Van Patten, sister of Dick and relic from the world of '70s TV) as she anal-retentively oversees the table-setting, which she invokes as some sort of ancient tradition (“Candace, do like grandmother did. In the centre of the plate, neatly.”) Wendy gives her a squeeze and tells her she looks beautiful. Ma Beamish kvetches “I'm fat, I'm thin. I'm blond, I'm brunette” like a really bad Jackie Mason imitation. Here we discover the origin of Wend’s body-image problems, which FuckFace will mess up beyond repair in a few minutes. “Well, you always wanted to look like Elizabeth Taylor, and now you do,” Wend says hopefully, then moves carefully away to tell FuckFace: “My mother finds certain words too horrible to utter....so she whispers them. You'll get used to it.”

Cut to a very uncomfortable dinner,* spearheaded by Ma Beamish’s signature tic: “Did you hear about Betty Rothberg?” (Whispers loudly) “Cancer!”
*When I was about Bill—uh, FuckFace’s age, I attended a dinner very much like this one. It was with some beautiful but clinically insane wild rich chick who looked (to me) like the actress Sherilyn Fenn. We had met on the U of M campus and wound up taking the day off and driving over to the river town of Stillwater, Minnesota and got absolutely shitfaced at some outdoor tavern overlooking the Mississippi. She casually slurred she had a dinner to go to and would I like to come? Hell yeah! So she phones her family and tells them she’s bringing home “a teaching assistant from my Lingusitics class.” We showed up quite noticeably drunk and I met what turned out to be her whole family around a massive round table, with an extra place set for me, “the T.A.” I was seated near this woman’s sister, who very much like the Beamish Stepford wives was a sort of snarkily and vocally disapproving of her little sister. I was at that point of drunkenness where I thought I was being very clever and made up an entire story of how this girl and I had attended a “Linguistics Mixer” to celebrate the last day of the semester. This chick’s sister watched me though slitted eyes the whole time, sizing me up. The pervading wisdom at the table was that it was about time that she had hooked up with what appeared to be a very responsible and polite young man—for a change. In other words, I was her Howie Krantz!!

WENDY’S A-HOLE BROTHER-IN-LAW: Say, Bill, the day I married Rachel I got three Card-a-terias. I just bought a new BMW!
MA BEAMISH: Betty's daughter moved into the new neighbourhood. Only six Jewish families. (Whispers loudly) But very wealthy!*
*Again, another eerily similar story from my past: one of my mother’s old school rich lady friends saying: “Oh, we just loooove our new neighborhood!” before whispering behind her hand: “There are no black people there!” I mean, WOW…

Sure, make the Beamishs slavish materialists, but why make them so hideous and gargoyle-like? Why pile on the money-grubbing stereotypes? Here we are put in the odd position of actually sympathizing with FuckFace, especially when he’s asked “Where did you meet Wendy again?” and he responds (whispering loudly and sloppily pouring himself a generous glass of wine): “Prison.” What a card! Wendy can't get enough of him!

Cut to Pa Beamish peeling off a couple hundred off his thick bankroll and handing it to Wendy, telling his youngest tochter: “If you'd get married and run a franchise, you wouldn't have to borrow money.” He obviously doesn’t take her job working with the rank-and-file seriously: “It's killing time until you get married.” Wendy responds by asking for her own apartment. Billy interrupts this by climbing up onto the roof of the mansion and thus creating another inexplicable scene.

Wendy, already soaking wet, climbs out on the roof: “This is so great! All the years we lived here, no one ever did this!” FuckFace, thinking he’s Jim Morrison or something, cradling a glass of bourbon, replies: “I used to do it all the time. At the frat house, I'd crawl out of Alec's window on the roof with my horn.” Where’s yer sax now, Billy? Down on Planet Earth, the Beamish clan is fuhhh-reeeeking out. Says Ma B: “I knew it the minute he came in.” (loud whisper) “Drugs!”

Wendy is comforting FuckFace: “You miss school, don't you?”
*"Out of hand" becomes Billy's tag line throughout the film, which is lame until you consider the original: “This is awesome!”

He mimics falling off the side of the building, then pulls back with a roguish grin. What an asshole. Wendy, for no reason, is frightened, then thrilled (seemingly bypassing “angry”): “Well, that's pretty out of hand!” Yes it is! You are basically turned on by FuckFace’s death wish. How messed up is that? This girl’s got an evil streak a mile long and two miles deep!

Then, occurs one of the strangest segues I’ve ever seen in movie dialogue. See if you can follow this:

FUCKFACE: Ever think about it?
WENDY: Not while I'm still a virgin.

Ever think about what? Dying?! Offing yourself? Are we to believe that Wendy won’t commit suicide until she’s been deflowered? What a couple of sick puppies! If they actually got together, this pair might turn out to be an American version of Ian Brady and Myra Hindley.*
*British serial thrill-killers of the mid-1960s

F‘Face is stunned by this revelation.

FUCKFACE: Come on. I mean, all those guys you went out with...Stewie Newman?
WENDY: Oh, please. Would you do it with Stewie Newman?*
*“A Stewie can do your income taxes. If you need a root canal, Stewie's your man...but humpin' and pumpin' is not Stewie's strong suit. It's the name. 'Do it to me Stewie, you're an animal Stewie, ride me big Stewie.' Doesn't work.”

Poor Stewie – the proto-Howie. I imagine Jonah Hill with giant glasses and green teeth.

Very abrupt, porn-film style cut to what looks to be the Beamish library – kind of an ironic place for our young lunkhead  – as Wendy and FuckFace finally get down to getting’ down. FuckFace, holding TWO glasses of liquor, almost knocks over a lamp while doing an Elmer Fudd impression: “Be vewy quiet. I'm hunting wabbit.” True to life, there’s a lot of apologizing in this scene.

They finally get down to making out and FuckFace, in rare form, goes right for her breast, nestled under one of Wendy’s unsexy puffy sweaters. FuckFace discovers her rubber fat suit while going right for her Secret Garden and gives it a loud ‘snap’ against her thigh. “What the hell is that?” he exclaims. “It's your scuba suit.”

Yes, that’s how quickly you can blow it with a chick. You can almost hear the farty whistle of a beach toy deflating. Then FF makes it even worse: “Wend, I'm really sorry. You're allowed to have fun when you're screwing.” Jesus! Yahweh! Did they hire Kirk Kelly and Ram Sweeney from Heathers to script-doctor all of Billy’s bon mots?

Wendy, hurt beyond belief, peeps: “I don't think we should see each other anymore.” She leaves money for his rent on the stairwell banister and walks upstairs. Of course, FuckFace takes the money.

SCENE XIV: ST. ELMO'S BAR – HALLOWEEN NIGHT

My favorite scene for a cornucopia of reasons: first off, the band the band the BAND. “Billy Hixx and the New Breed.”* Hah. Playing the Springsteen-esque “One Love” with FuckFace chewing up the stage with an impossibly prolonged sax solo that even Clarence Clemons couldn’t pull off if he swallowed a truckload of steroids. He goes on and on and on. The song apparently has no lyrics, just ‘One Love” sung by a guitarist with silly hair that resembles a Chia-yamulke. (Apparently, Don Was is playing bass.) Again, the lack of restraint: Billy just can’t be a good musician; he has to be protean, the BEST; he can’t just be part of the band, he has to be leading it; he can’t just play a quick, great solo, he has to dominate the entire scene. Billy’s entire presence in the movie can be summed up in this scene: loud, sweaty, obnoxious, fetid, full of himself, blowing his horn in everybody’s face and shaking his sweat all over the chicks in the front row (um, eww).
*The band is the real life band of Mare Winningham’s brother Patrick

"Let's rock!!"

The gang bursts into a bustling bar party, all dressed identically in suits and ties and Groucho Marx glasses. (For this scene, I kinda wished they had dressed like Devo.)

LESLIE: I wanna meet the woman who's turning Kirbo Kaeger into a doctor.

KIRBO: Hey, I've been an amateur gynecologist for years.

This seems like a line FuckFace would say, but he’s got the horn buried up to his tonsils,* so Kirbo, our resident apple-cheeked, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed psycho, picks up the slack. What the girls don’t realize is that he’s deadly serious: he has a stolen medical bag under his bed complete with speculum and enema bag filled with Hawaiian Punch. Thing good thoughts, think good thoughts….

*Nick Offerman, the actor who plays Ron Swanson on NBC's Parks & Recreation recently told Under the Radar: “I’m a very intermediate sax player, but now that Rob Lowe is on my show, I had to cop to him. Like, ‘Dude your ridiculous fake sax playing [in St. Elmo’s Fire] inspired me to pick up a horn.’”

Jules, who has crimped hair from a Belgian waffle maker and silver lipstick, drops a drunken bombshell: “Leslie, did I tell you? I thought I was getting fired. Instead, my boss took me to dinner!”

LESLIE: Jules, I told you're not gonna start bopping your boss.

JULES: Too late! I'm gonna dance!

“Dancing” for Jules means elbowing her way to the stage and strapping herself on top of the jukebox and riding it like it was a Sybian. Her and FuckFace share a gross and greasy soul kiss. Alec, meanwhile, is dropping a bigger load on Kev:

ALEC: Can I borrow a key to your apartment tomorrow? The lingerie salesgirl has been calling me at the office.

KEVIN: You gotta learn to say no, pal.

ALEC: When Leslie says yes, I’ll say no.

Yes! It’s just that easy! Alec has already at his newborn-chick phase perfected the political talent of “compartmentalization” when it comes to sexual peccadilloes, instantly becoming a hero to many future American politicians like William Jefferson Clinton, Elliott Spitzer, Mark Foley, Larry Craig, Mark Sanford, Gary Hart, Bob Livingston, Helen Chenoworth, Henry Hyde, Bob Barr, Dan Burton, Rudy Giuliani, Gary Condit, Jim McGreevy, James West, Don Sherwood, Newt Gingrich, Gavin Newsom, Antonio Villagarosa, David Vitter, Tim Mahoney, David Patterson, Vito Fossella, Kawame Kilpatrick, Bob Packwod, John Ensign….anyway, you get the point. The salient fact that Alec has just crossed the river over to the conservative side seems to bode well for his sex-scandal potential.

Enter Howie Krantz (Jon Cutler)! Howie to me is the most interesting character besides Kevin and the yet-to-be-introduced Mr. Kim: he’s the stand in for the rest of us. He’s the indication of the smugness of the characters and the writers. He’s a sweet natured polite unassuming guy, a bit chubby, kind of prematurely rumpled, the kind of guy who could spend hours combing his hair and still leave a cowlick standing straight up in back and one shirt collar sticking out of his sweater. He’s doomed in this glittery world and branded from the moment he meets this noxious nest of culture vultures – a sort of Schlemiel-by-proxy who basically would be us if we hung out with these beautiful drips. Apparently, wearing glasses all the time versus wearing them stylishly for specific tasks is a cardinal sin for which one can never ever be forgiven. Even Wendy looks like she can barely stand being seen with him, like she’s being escorted by a giant turd with excellent manners.

WENDY: This is Howie Krantz. Howie, Kevin Dolenz.

HOWIE: How do you do?

ALEC: Alec Newberry.

HOWIE: (glasses sliding down his nose as he shakes Alec’s hand) Alec? Nice to meet you!

ALEC: You wanna sit with us?

HOWIE: Oh, great. That'd be great.

ALEC: Great!

Alec delivers this last line mockingly. That’s all it takes with this craven coven, to say the word “great!’ one too many times because you’re a bit nervous in meeting these wonderful people your new girlfriend is always prattling on about.

HOWIE: I'm in the greeting cards business. I work for Wendy's brother-in-law.

ALEC: Humongous future in greeting cards!

Alec looks at Kevin as he says this, giving him a sarcastic smile: Can you believe this schmuck? Is he for real? Let’s keep him around for laughs! Oh Howie, run away now. You are too good for this room.

The Gaykren makes a reappearance, ostensibly to hook up with poor Kevin, who eyes him suspiciously. At the same time, FuckFace’s wife Felice (Jenny Wright) and some lummox in a leather bomber jacket who looks like the evil dojo sensei from The Karate Kid amble into the bar. She’s dressed like a flapper from the 1920s; he’s dressed like a dick. Onstage, FuckFace is really getting into himself (“Let's rock!”). He eyes a pretty young thing at the edge of the stage and immediately goes for her by sticking the bell of his horn directly in her face and melting it with a LOUD solo. Seconds later, he spots Felice with her paramour and immediately stops playing with no pause for breath:

FUCKFACE: Take your hands off my wife.

FELICE: Your wife? You're not married to me. You're married to your friends and the bar!

FUCKFACE: I said get your hands off my wife!

Is he kidding?

Blammo, Senor Face drops his horn, dives off the stage and punches Felice’s date. They fall to the floor (thank god the band stops playing) and we immediately see that despite his being born with a mouth his bar fight skills are sorely lacking. The other dude’s much bigger and soon has Billy on the floor and is punching his face with wonderful precision. Ah Billy’s one of those – a guy who starts fights who can’t fight. There is pandemonium and at last Wally St. Elmo grows a pair and fires Billy on the spot. Jules grabs the Gaykren, who utters yet another clichéd line: “I just had my nose done!” If anybody notices, our gallant Howie is making a big show of blocking Wendy from the violence, like nervous father shepherding his kids away from a vaguely creepy dude in the park. This is supposed to come off as geeky – and it is – but sweet nonetheless. He’s in over his head.

Outside St. Elmo’s, Lowe probably has his best acting moment of his career:

FUCKFACE: Goddamn it! I'll tell you, I should have had a vasectomy at birth! I'll tell you something now, Al, if you ever have boys, you'll just do them a favour and get them neutered right away! If they knock up some little sluts, they're the ones who are really fucked! Fucked for life! I hate you, you little bitch!!

Wow. For once, the innate crudeness of the script serves this scene well. Lowe delivers it in such a rageful shriek you wonder if he’s been playing possum in the film to prepare for this Big Acting Moment. (Did he expect to be nominated for an Oscar?) However, this is cut short by Felice’s date sucker-kicking him into the gutter, where he’s obviously most at home. Then, as abruptly as it began, it’s over, supplanted by a moment that’s as emotionally complex as this film will ever get. Double-F and Felice lunge for each other and have sloppy makeup kissing in front of the gathered crowd, the blood on his face smearing all over her lips (ugh!) and everybody goes "Awwww!" and applauds. But their scene rings false: their reunion too abrupt, too desperate, to manufactured, the hatred displayed too noxious to be dispelled this quickly (shades of Teen Mom). Nobody in the gang seems to be buying it.

LESLIE: You just go ahead with your evening with Howie.

JULES: Yes. No matter what he looks like.

They all laugh. Ah hah hah aha ha!

Howie, please, run away now.