Sunday, September 25, 2011

DAY 59: THE GOONIES



HEY YOU GUUUYS! 


1985 was 365 red letter days for a young cinephile. I think I went to the theater more that year than I had in all my previous 14 years: Rambo, Rocky, Fletch, A View to a Kill, Breakfast Club, Weird Science, Real Genius, Fandango, Pee Wee's Big Adventure, Mad Max, Commando, Teen Wolf, Silverado, Elm St 2, Fright Night, Day of the Dead, Return of the Living Dead (Braaaains), Year of the Dragon (MICKEY!), The Last Dragon (NOT MICKEY!), Ladyhawke, Cocoon, The Sure Thing, Young Sherlock Holmes, Brazil, Legend, Pale Rider, and the have to be seen to be believed Gymkata. Don't even get me started on Remo Williams and Just One of the Guys! You know what I'm talkin' about.


That's just scratching the celluloid surface and I saw 'em all! Yep, '85 was a banner year my friends, and after multiple viewings of both The New Kids, and Tuff Turf, I decided that I wanted to be a slick as shit badass prick like James Spader, the star of these unheralded gems.


To me his slimeball arrogance and pompous aloofness oozed confidence. His villainous caricatures conveyed not menace but an attractive sense of danger, a certain 'je ne sais don't fuck with me'. The charisma Spader exuded was second only to Mr. Rourke's, and even when he lost he won because he was motherfucking James Spader.


To that end whenever I found myself in a sticky predicament, let's just say like nervously struggling with the decision of whether or not I should go for an under the shirt fumbling braille reading with Melanie Huddert in the balcony of the Palm Theater during The Goonies, my mantra became "What would James Spader do?". 


I remember watching the rest of the movie in silence, alone, thinking it was ironic that the Goonies were following the directions of a pirate named One-Eyed Willy and it lead them into nothing but trouble, and here I was alone with a soda soaked crotch, licking blood from my split and increasingly swelling lip. 


I was also thinking I was pretty sure Martha Plimpton had a penis.

A week later I called Melanie like nothing had happened and told her that she bored me and I was hoping she could give me her best friends phone number. Instead of providing the digits she paid for us to go see Back to the Future and insisted on under the shirt shenanigans.

WWJSD indeed.

BABY RUUUTH!

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