Dollar Video Curator

"First dance. First love. The time of your life."

Dirty Dancing - that quintessentially classic film and required viewing for all pre-teen girls. The film that spawned an unfortunate resurgence of interest in early 60's pop music, and a breadth of bad fashion throw-backs. A coming-of-age film, a thinly veiled sex-instructional. A film about rebellion, and innocence lost...the Curator is drooling.

On the eve of its 20th anniversary, a rare, private screening has been arranged. So get your Keds on, roll up those cut-offs, and get ready to vastly change over the course of a three week summer vacation. Here comes everything you you’ve ever wanted to know about Dirty Dancing….a 3-Part analysis on the life and growth of Baby.

Part 1 - Nobody Puts Baby in the Catskills

We open on a happy scene, a family driving off to a long overdue summer vacation in the Catskills. Innocence is established with cutesy teen “Baby,” hugging dad on the neck from the back seat while “Big Girls Don’t Cry” plays softly in the background. It is apparent our Baby is growing up. She may be still naïve, but she is ripe for discovery.

The happy family arrives at happy vacation spot, and it turns out dear old dad is best pals with resort owner. The fam’ will be receiving extra special treatment. Oh yeah they will, in BOY form. First thing Baby does is snoop around and eavesdrop. She overhears old man Kellerman encouraging the waiters to show the daughters a good time, “even the dogs.”

But then….enter Johnny Castle, who tells Robbie the waiter to, “Just put your pickle on everybody's plate college boy and leave the hard stuff to me.” Oh my. Now the Curator can only imagine what he means by this phrase. Perhaps a bit of constructive criticism on his waitering technique? Whatever the case, when Baby sees Johnny and Penny dance the Mambo together later that night, she gets a bit of a funny feeling inside.

Part 2 - Baby Crawls out of the Playpen

Kellerman’s is BORING! What’s a girl to do while the folks Foxtrot? I guess I’ll go on a walk…..Huh, Staff Quarters, No Guests….Wonder what could be going on up there….Wowza! What are these kids doing? Sheesh, they’re almost screwing on the floor! Dirty dancing has arrived!

“Wanna try it?” asks friendly boy-type Billy who also just so happens to be Johnny Castle’s cousin. “Uh-uh,” Baby shakes her head, looking down at the floor. Boys have cooties!

But Baby soon proves unable to resist that beckoning finger call from Mr. Castle, she is drawn to the dance floor, thus receiving her first instructional from Johnny, a bit of masturbation if you will. Roll this way, Baby, thrust that way, Baby. It all happened so fast, and just when she is beginning to “get it,” it’s over. But there’s no turning back for Baby after that taste.

Fortunately, Ex-Rockette/Dance Instructor Penny gets herself “into trouble.” Then, Baby learns a cruel lesson, not all boys are honorable! You mean that she’s preggers and the boy KNOWS and won’t HELP! Unheard of! But seeing how this is her chance to Mambo her way into the hot man’s arms, Baby gets Penny some money to “take care of it,” and some free dance lessons. Now she must learn the very dance she saw only days before, courtesy of Johnny “All the Right Moves” Castle.

While learning all the steps and twirls, Baby is exposed to some light, friendly lesbian play and a quickie threesome, but the true lesson comes only with the lifts. The Lifts!!

She must run and leap through the air graceful as can be, a soaring eagle, a sexually liberated woman. And it’s all about trust. Johnny tells her, “Now, you'll hurt me if you don't trust me, all right?” Awe, a metaphor for a real, live relationship. Our Baby is growing up. Sniff. But, she fucks up it during the big show. Ooops. Guess Baby still has a few things to learn.

Part 3 – Baby Learns to Fly

After the big show Baby gets another harsh lesson from dear old Dad. Turns out she lied to him about what the money she gave Penny was for and now he doesn’t trust her anymore. So she runs to The Swayze for a bit of comfort, and a good old fashioned, wholesome, free-range sausage party. “Do you love me now that I can dance?” Indeed. Post-doin’ it, Johnny suddenly realized he is not on a first name basis with the girl he just boned, and has the class to ask her about it. To which he replies, “Frances. That's a real grown up name.” Good come back, Johnny! But, he is correct. Baby has simultaneously shed her virginity and her ridiculous childhood in one fell stroke, arriving with a short, heel-burning skid into womanhood. Now if only there was a chance to somehow have another dance scene so she could perfect that darn lift….

But meanwhile, sex can’t solve all her problems. Baby is discovering that the world is not the place she thought it was, that somehow her sheltered existence bedecked in rose-colored glasses didn’t prepare her for the harsh realities of the real world. Huh. When Johnny is accused of stealing wallets, Baby has to own up as his alibi. Strong girl that she is, she announces to the entire resort, “Johnny couldn’t have taken the wallet. I know it. I just know it. Because he was in his room all night. And the reason I know he was in his room all night is that because he was fucking the shit of me.” For some reason Dad reacts badly to this, as does resort owner, and Johnny gets fired.

Baby/Francis is a broken girl/woman. The world has crumbled around her. Cruel World! The Swayze has driven off into the…driving rain, alone with his thoughts that take on a poignant, musical form(a song deserving of permanent adhesion in the Movie Music Hall of Fame), and Dad is so angry he infamously puts Baby….uh, somewhere out of the way.

But there may yet be one last chance for Baby to blossom. The Swayze returns, record in hand, and asks Miss Francis Houseman to “Have the Time of Her Life” while strutting her stuff in Mambo form. The audiences’ breath is held….the lift….will she be able to trust Johnny, trust herself, put aside all she knows while embracing the future in all its scariness, and take flight into Womanhood????

Ladies and Gentleman, Francis has left the building.

Originally posted on:Dollar Video Curator

The Erotic Thriller: a genre extinct? The 1980s and 90s seemingly had multitudes of film execs sitting around bistro tables drinking wine spritzers and snorting lines, coming up with new ways to simultaneously skeeve-out and stimulate the Film-Going American Public. Are those grand days over? Perhaps…but fear not....much like a weathered porno mag found in the woods behind your parents’ house, that’s what cheap used videos are for: learning and reminiscing. And now, to fill your empty, cavernous need, a triple play, a ménage a trois if you will, of sex thrillers, all complete with cringe-worthy sex romps that will leave you feeling just a little bit creepy inside. Nothing illegal, not even porno, just something that is a little bit….off. Strap yourself in for a wild night of semi-deviant sex scenes featuring bizarrely matched and mostly unattractive celebs.

The Films: Dressed to Kill, Presumed Innocent, The Big Easy

Viewing order importance: It matters not.

Dressed to Kill – Brian DePalma, imagined master of the dirty sex thriller, opens with a soft-core shower scene, with Angie Dickinson giving herself a good old-fashioned, lonely-wife, nipple rub down, complete with searching camera and mournful music. She stares at the object of her affection, a disinterested husband, who shaves in the mirror, as she peers through the water-speckled shower door, rubbing a sliver of soap over all her dirty parts. Vastly gratuitous, she focuses her scrubbing bubbles solely on nips and crotch, until interrupted by a man who grabs her from behind and struggles with her. Is it a dream? Is it a fantasy?

Ah, a fantasy, as a quick cut to missionary position under the cover humping reveals, starring Angie and hubbie. The guy is seriously all business - doesn't even look up at our Ange - and he at first appears to have done a stand-up job, but the Curator suspects a fake.

Upon completion of her dissatisfactory duty, the bored house wife staggers out into the world to gaze upon some art while making a grocery list. However she ends up picking up a random fellow art lover for some afternoon adultery instead, hooking him with a sly technique involving the old "irresistible, classic beige Isotoner glove incentive,” after an elaborate interior museum flirt and chase.

From there we proceed to Taxi ride where the stranger commences with the cunnilingi, complete with driver adjusting and peering in the rear view mirror. Watching the stranger’s hand with gold bracelet remove her underthings in quite a luxurious site.

Later, back at mystery man’s pad, and “after the lovin” an urban legend horror is realized when Ange finds a Lab Result confirming mystery man’s got the VD. Of all the lousy luck….Angie splits out of there but quick, only to get murdered in the elevator of man’s building. By a transvestite. Named Michael Caine. And all this happens in the first 30 minutes.

Catch your breath and move on to:

Presumed Innocent – On the surface, the sex in this 1990 thriller isn’t so creepy. It’s got Harrison Ford, pre-most-wrinkles-and-sags, and Greta Scacchi. She’s hot. Yes, Brian Dennehy is in there, but thankfully his sex is only referenced, not shown.

But there is something about the power-hump on the Greta’s desk after she and Harry win a Child Abuse Case together that is just kind of “yicky.” Maybe it’s the graphic intensity Harrison displays as he drops his drawers, sucks a nip and powers through that stack of legal “briefs.” Maybe it is just that there is something disconcerting about Harry’s naked thrusting hip.

The creepier portions include a constantly referenced rape or not-rape crime with various suspects “fingered,” and the sleezy autopsy doctor describing how “real nice” the rape was, before the angry perp smashes her on the head. The finger of blames finally rests on Harrison, and he now must go on trial for his lover’s murder. The ewww-y-est of all moments however is not a sex scene, but is Harrison’s wife’s description of pulling her husband’s spermicided ooze out of herself and implanting it in dead Greta with a syringe. Nothing says lovin’ like something in the oven.

Panting, panting, panting and:

The Big Easy –Unease best describes the unadulterated sleeziness that permeates with Zaidigo vapors off a bed befouled by Dennis Quaid and Ellen Barkin. It is presumed that, as an actor or actress, the shooting of a “romance” scene must be (at least) somewhat uncomfortable and (likely) excruciatingly embarrassing. With that in mind, Quaid and Barkin appear to be trying to make anyone who ever sees this film as uncomfortable as they once were. Payback’s a bitch.

The first 30 minutes or so are a kind of chemistry-lacking foreplay to what seems to be one of the most awkward sex encounters of all time. After a bit of hanky-panky and various clothings are removed, Ellen claims, mid-almost coitus, she is “not very good at this,” and “can’t do this" because "I am too nervous, I can’t relax.” Well hell darlin’ how do expect a man to respond to something like that? Denny tells her “Just relax, darlin'. This is the Big Easy. Folks have a certain way o' doin' things down here.” Ummm…yeah. She is then licked and fingered in that not so secret spot by Denny as he slinks all over the sheet, licking her thigh and grunting in his over-the-top, cajon-ified, ridiculous accent. When he kisses her he looks like he is eating her face, and she appears to be probing something out of his far back wisdom tooth with her tongue. The scene is finally interrupted by a murder, but not before Denny’s ass is revealed. Ellen tells us “I’ve never had much luck with sex” to which Denny informs her that “her luck is about to change.” As is our own, as is our own.

So. Looking to seduce that special someone with your knowledge of racy, semi-grody sex scenes? Want to indulge yourself in the films your parents watched but you never got to see cause they were “too grown-up?” Do yourself up right and dirty by laying your scummy little hands on these sexy flicks. You won’t be sorry you did…..for long.

Originally posted on:Dollar Video Curator

Ever have one of those days? Wake up grumpy, the whole world seems against you, that time clock ticks slowly by, the world seeming bleaker with every second? Well take heart that your life ain’t so bad. The cliché holds that it could be worse. Why, take for example how shitty your life would be if the planet you lived on was completely covered with water, or if life was so bad on the surface of the planet you had to live underground, near the core of the earth? What if you had a tyrannical authority figure with delusions of grandeur to contend with, constantly talking about how great life will be, if ever on dry land, or actually on the earth's surface, or living in a world free from Saddam Hussein? One that constantly promises a better life, a happy future, only to have your hopes dashed with the grinding reality of day to day existence?

Next time you have one of those unexplainably shitty days, dust off the old VCR player and your box scratched VHS versions of Waterworld and The Matrix 2.

Viewing order importance: What do you care? Life sucks either way.

Waterworld

The harsh, harsh Waterworld of Kevin Costner consists of roughin' it on a boat in the middle of the never-ending ocean. He's wrinkled, sun burned and drinkin' his own pee. And also growing fruit with his own pee. And then some other dude steals his pee grown fruit.

Dry land is a myth, and dirt is worth more than gold. It's very dangerous to live in the Waterworld. People are constantly trying to kill each other for reasons unknown. There is also an unexplainable amount of fire on the Waterworld, which doesn't make a lot of sense. Wouldn't it seem the last thing you should have to worry about on the Waterworld is fire? Drowning, sharks, mold, incessantly pruned fingers, yes. Fire? Not so much. And they are all so flippin’ dirty. How can they be so dirty with so much water around? Yes, it's salt water, but one could still wash with it. And everyone has really dry, chapped lips and skanky hair.

Yes, life does indeed suck on the Waterworld. They scavenge trash and drift around on the water, dying of thirst, boredom and starvation, looking to trade their scavenged trash for other trash. Survival is all there really is to this life, but honestly what is the point? Granted, there are still a couple good looking broads here and there, Jeanne Tripplehorn for one, fair barmaid and schlepper of water.

Unfortunately for Kev, Jeanne comes saddled with a child, none other than Tina Majorino (Deb, Napoleon Dynamite). Young Deb apparently has a map to the mythical dry land tattooed on her back, so all sort of baddies are out to get her. Now Kev has to protect the kid as well as himself, if he wants to keep one of the only hot women on all the Waterworld.

And that's pretty much it. Life undoubtedly sucks on the Waterworld.

The Matrix Reloaded

A one word explanation of why life sucks: Zion. The people living outside of the Matrix seem to think that Zion is paradise, but they are obviously suffering from a highly delusional state, induced by extreme lack of anything to do, outside of talk about "how great" everything will be "someday" if the "chosen one" ever bothers to "show the *** up already and put an end to those goddamn machines."

A typical Zionist day:

6:30 am – Wake up stewing in own sweat, give thanks to Oracle for blessed day.

6:45 am – Get dressed in handmade, modern, stylish, white Zion fashions.

7:00 am - Eat highly questionable food stuffs, origination unknown, give thanks to Oracle.

8:00 am - Join prayer group, give thanks to Oracle for the very existence of Morpheous, without whom, all would be lost.

9:00 am – Arrive at Zion mainframe control job, clock in, check out, stare at invisible wall for 3 hours, hoping a ship or two requests access.

12:00 pm – Gather around the “Chosen One’s” place of residence with homemade baked goods. Wait for his arrival. No show.

1:00 pm – Return to Zion mainframe control job, clock in, check out, stare at invisible wall for 4 more hours, secretly wishing for Machine attack to alleviate boredom.

5:00 pm – T.O.I.F! Clock out. Catch word of yet another “awesome” cave party, with VIP guest speaker.

5:30 pm – Arrive home, eat highly questionable food stuffs, origination unknown, give thanks to Oracle.

6:30 pm - Get dressed in cooler, dirty, earth-tone, torn clothes, presumably remade from centuries old other clothes, left-over from those who were there “from the beginning.”

6:45 pm – Carefully arrange dreadlocks

7:00 pm - Join prayer group, give thanks to Oracle for sending the Chosen One, even though the little shit hasn’t really done anything “chosen” yet.

8:00 pm – Arrive at cave party, stewing in own sweat.

9:00 pm – Listen to uninspired speech from Morpheous. Wonder who’s buying this bullshit.

10:00 pm – Sweaty dance party commences, get felt up a lot.

11:00 pm – Offer good looking person of opposite sex your personal “access code” to your own private “mainframe.” Get turned down.

12:00 am – Curfew in Zion. Lucky ones return home for hot cave sex to pounding industrial house music mix. Unlucky ones praise Oracle for another day, and bitterly, restlessly, fall asleep, stewing in own sweat.

Repeat.

There you have it – 2 situations were your life could be much, much worse than it already is. The only thing certain on the Waterworld or in Zion is death. At least you’ve got taxes too. Don’t you feel better now?

Originally posted on:Dollar Video Curator