HOORAY FOR HOLLYWOOD

HOORAY FOR HOLLYWOOD

CREEMEDIA

Edouard Dauphin

Ah, the life of a film critic. It appears glamorous, right? Private screenings Lavish press parties Beautiful starlets. Limousines to take you everywhere. And best of ail—free movies. Yes, but what kind of films are we talking about here? Take a look at The Dauph's calendar for this week:

Mon.—See Swiss incest movie.

Tues.—Catch caper comedy about nuns and robotic soldiers robbing the Bank of

Wed.—Screening of thriller in which crazed Vietnam veteran teams up with twin aborigines and an orphaned bear to wipe out Malibu.

Thurs.—Screwball comedy about nuns and musical ants.

Fri.—Coming of age drama of a farm girl's love for a monster who will “feast on your still-warm brains."

Well, you get the idea. Which brings us to the matter at hand; the 10 Worst Movies of 1986. A year ago, these pictures might have been just a scrawl in The Dauph’s datebook, but now, having seen them, they are firmly entrenched in my Hall of Shame. So let’s get down to it: naming names. In keeping with Boy Howdy policy, the producer of each film on our list will be given a prize. This year, it’s a choice between: an autographed first edition of Jimmy Swaggart’s new book, My Family Invented Rock W Roll (So Where’s My Royalties?) or— and this is a real collector's item—a long unavailable copy of William Shatner's record album, Hello, Young Lovers: Songs That Make Scotty Heave. Happy reading and listening, guys!

Oh, as usual, the movies listed are in no particular order, since I couldn't be bothered to alphabetize them and, besides, when you’re down in the mire where this lot crawls around, it's kind of pointless to differentiate. I mean, you don't see any penthouses in Roach Motels, do you?

COBRA—Since we started this Top 10 clambake back in the late 70s, no Sylvester Stallone movie has managed to escape our infamous roster. I suppose we should consider ourselves lucky that 1986 vomited up only one Sly effort (two Stallone pictures are due for ’87 release!) but since Cobra was twice as bad as his usual fare, where does that leave us? Nowhere, as usual. Stallone played a cop in this one and even stuck his real-life wife in as his love interest. Nice to know he supports the concept of the twoincome family.

CLUB PARADISE—Here’s the plan, see? You take eight TV-style comics and put them on an island in the Caribbean. Add Peter O’Toole and Twiggy because they're both fiat-chested and British. Throw in Jimmy Cliff because reggae’s from somewhere down there, right? Let’s see, who else? How about Adolph Caesar, who isn't even alive anymore? Now what does that all sound like to you? A free vacation for all concerned, but unamused moviegoers picked up the tab. ’ '■

HEARTBURN—Just what we needed. A film about two writers and their boring marriage. Jack Nicholson is a political reporter. Meryl Streep is a food critic. He sleeps around. She has a baby. In one riveting scene, they have a spat about a chicken leg. “I love our life." gushes Meryl. "I love how it just goes along." Oh, shut

up-

SHANGHAI SURPRISE— Sean Penn is a soldier of fortune in 1938 China. Madonna is the naive missionary who falls in love with him. Proof positive that the crack epidemic has peaked in Hollywood.

ON THE EDGE—Bruce Dern plays an aging marathoner who competes in a 14-mile California race and is reconciled with his radical leftist dad. Possibly the first Communist running film, and let's hope that doesn't start a

’NIGHT MOTHER—Ninety minutes of guilt and revenge as Sissy Spacek tortures her mother, Anne Bancroft, by Smouncing her plans to commit suicide, then giving 91 the reasons why. Rumor has it Mother Teresa walked out in the middle of this flick, muttering: "So do it, Sissy, and stop kvetching!”

THE MORNING AFTER—An actress who has drufik herself into a stupor the night before wakes up in the morpng with a corpse in her bed mtd no recollection of who he is or how he got killed. So? The Dauph had a similar experience just last week, jion’t go into it now, but you can read it in my forthcoming jjemoirs, Absinthe Makes the jjprt Grow Fonder.

PEGGY SUE GOT MARRIED —Tired of "I Dream of Jeannie” re-runs? Thought Back to the Future was good but 1st too damned deep? Try seeing Peggy Sue Got Married, a movie which asks the age-old Hollywood question: Do you think we can get away with this? Kathleen Turner as a 40-year-oid housewife tossed back to the 1950s tries hard but is so weighed down by a witless script that she actually appears stoop-shouldered in several scenes. Nicolas Cage, nephew of director Francis Coppola {hmmm) plays her loser boyfriend and eventual husband with a vocal technique akin to Peewee Herman on helium. A dopey movie for dopes!

Labyrinth—No one quite knows the exact date when David Bowie began dressing in women's clothing but it’s time to put a stop to this right now. Here David plays something called Jareth, the Goblin King. His drag consists of a feathery, punky hairdo, slinky tights and more makeup than Vanna White of outstretched human payday at the editorial offices of CREEM.

HEARTBREAK RIDGE—The the sheer mental hell still bemg endured by ex-soldiers who were part of the U S inheard the heartbreaking stories Former PFCs who still have nightmares about . without experiencing deja vu combat shock, which has resulted in some very nasty violence by the designer jeans counter. Concerned patriot Clint Eastwood addresses this American tragedy head-on in Heartbreak Ridge, a film that is every bit as relevant as Carmel, California.

Well, there you have it, campers—this year’s covey of cinematic goose droppings. Let’s hope 1987 is better, but don’t count on it.