A few weeks ago I made fun of South Dakota. I'd like to apologize for that. It's not like living in South Dakota is something anyone really wants to do, and joking about it is like tormenting a wounded animal. But that's not why I shouldn't have done it. To be honest, it's a bit hypocritical to make fun of South Dakota while Arkansas exists.
While watching The Day It Came To Earth, my wife asked me where the fuck this thing was made. As a joke, I replied it must have been made in Arkansas. It turned out I was right. This is significant, because I'm rarely right about anything. For example, I was completely convinced that Michael Dukakis would win in 1988, and that the Cubs were going to the World Series a few years ago when that guy in the left field stands got in the way of a fly ball and sent the entire team into Dukakisville. I also thought pot would eventually be legalized, which may have a lot to do with why I thought Dukakis would win. I stray from the point, but I'm just trying to explain why I feel like gloating a little. I can at least tell when something is from Arkansas.
As long as I'm digressing, I should explain where I found this movie. I obtained a VHS copy at a Canadian thrift store for three dollars. Paying that much for a movie really sticks in my craw, so in the interest of full disclosure, perhaps it's not fair for me to review The Day It Came To Earth. But maybe it doesn't matter since I really haven't said anything about it yet. I guess I've got a lot on my mind these days. It's not easy immigrating to a new country, because you have to adjust to many things, some of which you were warned about and some that you weren't. In the former category is the weather. Canadian winters really do suck, and unless you like spending three or four months with snow literally up to your ass, it's not a selling point. On the other hand, for all the alarmist propaganda you hear about Canadian health care, I'm pleased to report that it works just fine, and costs less per capita than U.S. health care. Best of all, if you show up in an emergency room with blood pouring out of an orifice, you don't have to spend twenty minutes filling out forms. For some orifices, the wait can be less than two minutes.
But that's not to say there aren't problems here. First, there's poutine. It's the most egregious example of the disturbing things Canadians do with brown gravy. I'm glad there are so many immigrants here who know how to cook, because if I had to live off Canadian cuisine, I'd have a colon like a garden hose compacted with Quikrete. Second, the thrift stores in Canada suck. In the United States, when you find some piece of shit movie like The Day It Came To Earth, you can typically snag it for a buck or less, even on DVD. In Canada, you'll find crappy VHS tapes, and people usually want you to pay five dollars for them. Dollar stores offer no relief. In the States, you can usually find a rack of dollar DVDs, including hidden gems like Five Minutes To Live or Galaxy Invader. Not so in Canada, where they actually have a store called A Buck Or Two. What the hell is that? Why not call it We Can't Find Any Shit To Sell You For a Buck Anymore or Another Goddamn Canadian Thrift Store? But it actually gets much worse, because you go into this place and you start finding stuff that costs three bucks. I guess they figure once you've sold the beloved dollar store theme down the river, they might as well shoot their wad and try to scam you out of three dollars for a pair of Shrek bedroom slippers. And it works too, because the next thing I know, I'm in my recliner, staring past my Shrek slippers at The Day It Came to Earth, with a half empty bottle of shitty Ontario red wine making moisture rings on our teak end table. And I can't even remember how the "Teen Trends Fashion Decals" became affixed to my inner thighs, but now the cats have gone downstairs to hide. I only mention this to provide context: I'm bitter about how I acquired this film, but I'll try not to let that taint my perspective.
Of course, there's a reason I was willing to pay three dollars: George Gobel. Those of you over forty probably remember Lonesome George, if not from his earliest appearances on his own TV show, then from his guest spots on The Tonight Show, or his impeccable work on The Hollywood Squares, where he was called upon to fill the hallowed lower left square upon the untimely demise of Charley Weaver. How George Gobel was dragged into this mess isn't clear, but his name on the box was sufficient to get me to fork over three dollars to those greedy thrift store bastards. Had I known The Day It Came To Earth was filmed in Arkansas, I might have been willing to spend four dollars. And keep in mind that Canadian dollars have recently traded above parity with U.S. currency, due to the increased value of many Canadian commodities such as oil and lumber. I'd love to go on and on about currency rates, but there's just not enough time or space.
But to get back to discussing Arkansas. Damn. Canada will do that to you. You get so wrapped up in the glamour and pageantry of curling and maple syrup, and you forget about Arkansas. You also start inserting a 'u' when you spell "glamour." Anyway, Arkansas probably ranks quite a ways below Hollywood and New Delhi with respect to film industry revenues. I did a web search for movies shot in Arkansas, and it does have Bloody Mama and Sling Blade notched in its proverbial belt, but neither of those was actually produced by Arkansans. That's where The Day It Came To Earth starts to spread from the pack. This piece of shit wasn't just produced by Arkansans, it was produced by Arkansans who are friends of the Clintons, and who somehow convinced George Gobel to fly to Little Rock for a day or two so they'd have a semi-recognizable name to stick on the credits. I would love to hear the lowdown on how they pulled this off. Did he owe somebody a favor? Did he need money? Was he promised a hooker? Did they coax him out by telling him there's a place in Arkansas called Toad Suck Park?
In any case, The Day It Came to Earth has the usual teenagers who look like they're 28 years old. None of them can act. One of them (Rita Wilson) eventually ended up married to Tom Hanks. Another (Wink Roberts) is sufficiently annoying that I wouldn't mind watching him drown. It has a meteorite that hits a lake, and causes a corpse left there by the mob to crawl out of the lake and startle morons. Chunks of the meteorite are brought to George Gobel, who plays Professor Bartholomew. He finds them interesting, and then disappears from the film. It's as if he flew into Little Rock, shot a day's worth of scenes, and then found out he wasn't going to get paid. There's a cop who looks like Mike Huckabee who reaches absurd conclusions based on no palpable evidence. Sometimes it seems like a spoof of bad movies, as if that lets it off the hook. It doesn't, because the kind of stuff it spoofs is usually better made and more entertaining.
Still, in a world with Celtic Woman and movies like Because I Said So, it's not the worst thing you could do with an hour and a half of your life, and you'll get to see a few of the rarely explored natural treasures of Arkansas, like a pile of dirt, or a tree stump next to a gasoline can. And really, if I've ever offended anyone from South Dakota, I sincerely apologize. I hope you eventually get some decent Chinese restaurants or maybe a public television station.
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