Some movies, some books, are more than just entertainment. They serve as touchstones for our entire lives. We return to them again and again, media versions of the fountain of youth. We rediscover things we lost along the way, eternal reminders of a time when life was magical.
Some feel this way about Star Wars. Pulp Fiction represents dangerous nihilism of the 90s for others. Some will look back on The Avengers as a torchlight of imagination that will resound into the far-flung future.
Halloween is a big one for me. John Carpenter's masterpiece launched a cycle of movies that enraptured generations of horror fans.
I was twenty-six years old in 1987, but I felt much younger. I was innocent in many ways. Carefree, irreverent, passionate about my weird notions of art. I loved two critically disdained trends: slasher-gore movies and teen films. The 80s were the golden age of these ungainly little genres.
No movie encapsulates my life at the time as much as Summer School. This movie celebrates lowbrow comedy and horror in ways no others have before or since. Summer School deals with delinquents and slasher movie adoration, but it's almost ridiculously good natured.
Summer School sums it all up. A beloved era of American life, obsession with junk culture, disrespect for improper authorities. The movie has a lot of rude humor, but there isn't a mean bone in its body. Summer School is endlessly cheerful and charming, even when it depicts underage drinking, teenage pregnancy, and learning disorders.
I love the entire cast of Summer School, even Kirstie Alley (!), but to horror lovers the heart of the movie is two splat-happy students named Chainsaw and Dave. Their 'tudes, their humor, their unbridled dedication to horror inspired a multitude of fans. I was a nascent gorehound and the characters rang one hundred percent true to me.
To my lasting regret I didn't see Summer School in a theater. I wasn't sure about it. I watched the movie when it came out on videocassette. Me and a few friends were looking for to rent, and I suggested Summer School. They were unimpressed by the cheesy cover featuring milquetoast Mark Harmon and a dog in shades. I heard Rick Baker was a makeup consultant and that there were gore sequences in the film. I persuaded them to get Summer School, and the rest is history.
We all loved Summer School, but I had no idea at the time how important the movie would be for my entire life. How could I know that it would come to represent everything I loved about being young, that it was the crystal-clear, letter-perfect, snapshot of the things I would hold dearest to my heart about my life-consuming obsession with horror?
Could I imagine that the opening number, "Happy", by Danny Elfman, would become a serious contender for my favorite song of all time? Elfman's songwriting often dealt with finding joy in life despite unpleasant circumstances, but it always had a dark streak. "Happy" is the perfect song for Chainsaw and Dave, and an ideal time machine for me to go back to my wide-eyed early infatuation with the horror genre. Elfman recently did another song called "Happy" on his Big Mess album, but it's kind of a generic industrial gloom dirge. Nothing like the celebratory joy of Summer School's "Happy".
Summer School was not intended for critics. Every horror fan I know loved the movie, but it was lambasted at the time. Notorious splatter-haters Siskel and Ebert were particularly incensed by Summer School. I'm sure gore-loving Chainsaw and Dave rankled their feathers, and Gene and Roger were probably humiliated by the way the two splatter-lovers mimicked Siskel and Ebert in their comedy routines. I like Siskel and Ebert, but Chainsaw and Dave are funnier and a hell of a lot cooler than any two stuffed shirt mainstream movie critics could ever hope to be.
The really shocking thing is how Summer School was directed by old school comedy maven Carl Reiner. His previous movies were the epitome of lame, weak comedy. I wouldn't have touched Summer Rental, All of Me, or Oh God! with a ten foot pole in those days. Reiner never did anything as hip as Summer School in his entire career.
Time has passed. thirty-five years. It doesn't seem possible. So much has happened. Glorious highs and soul-destroying lows. Horror and comedy have gone through endless changes, and none of it compares to the days of Summer School. Movies like Night of the Creeps, House, The Breakfast Club, Vamp, The Lost Boys, Fright Night, Friday the 13 VI: Jason Lives, Adventures in Babysitting, A Nightmare on Elm Street 3: Dream Warriors, Hello Mary Lou: Prom Night 2, Heaven Help Us, Maximum Overdrive. I can go on and on. These are the movies that made me who I am today. The ones that planted the seeds which germinated into the comedy and horror loving old guy I eventually became. I can never properly express my gratitude to the people who made the movies, wrote the books, tore my tickets, rented me tapes, and experienced it along with me.
And when things get dark, as they will, when life grinds down my spirit and I'm all alone, I tiptoe toward my record player and drop the needle onto my Summer School soundtrack album. "Happy" starts up and I dance like I am twenty-six again.
Written by Mark Sieber
Some feel this way about Star Wars. Pulp Fiction represents dangerous nihilism of the 90s for others. Some will look back on The Avengers as a torchlight of imagination that will resound into the far-flung future.
Halloween is a big one for me. John Carpenter's masterpiece launched a cycle of movies that enraptured generations of horror fans.
I was twenty-six years old in 1987, but I felt much younger. I was innocent in many ways. Carefree, irreverent, passionate about my weird notions of art. I loved two critically disdained trends: slasher-gore movies and teen films. The 80s were the golden age of these ungainly little genres.
No movie encapsulates my life at the time as much as Summer School. This movie celebrates lowbrow comedy and horror in ways no others have before or since. Summer School deals with delinquents and slasher movie adoration, but it's almost ridiculously good natured.Summer School sums it all up. A beloved era of American life, obsession with junk culture, disrespect for improper authorities. The movie has a lot of rude humor, but there isn't a mean bone in its body. Summer School is endlessly cheerful and charming, even when it depicts underage drinking, teenage pregnancy, and learning disorders.
I love the entire cast of Summer School, even Kirstie Alley (!), but to horror lovers the heart of the movie is two splat-happy students named Chainsaw and Dave. Their 'tudes, their humor, their unbridled dedication to horror inspired a multitude of fans. I was a nascent gorehound and the characters rang one hundred percent true to me.
To my lasting regret I didn't see Summer School in a theater. I wasn't sure about it. I watched the movie when it came out on videocassette. Me and a few friends were looking for to rent, and I suggested Summer School. They were unimpressed by the cheesy cover featuring milquetoast Mark Harmon and a dog in shades. I heard Rick Baker was a makeup consultant and that there were gore sequences in the film. I persuaded them to get Summer School, and the rest is history.
We all loved Summer School, but I had no idea at the time how important the movie would be for my entire life. How could I know that it would come to represent everything I loved about being young, that it was the crystal-clear, letter-perfect, snapshot of the things I would hold dearest to my heart about my life-consuming obsession with horror?
Could I imagine that the opening number, "Happy", by Danny Elfman, would become a serious contender for my favorite song of all time? Elfman's songwriting often dealt with finding joy in life despite unpleasant circumstances, but it always had a dark streak. "Happy" is the perfect song for Chainsaw and Dave, and an ideal time machine for me to go back to my wide-eyed early infatuation with the horror genre. Elfman recently did another song called "Happy" on his Big Mess album, but it's kind of a generic industrial gloom dirge. Nothing like the celebratory joy of Summer School's "Happy".
Summer School was not intended for critics. Every horror fan I know loved the movie, but it was lambasted at the time. Notorious splatter-haters Siskel and Ebert were particularly incensed by Summer School. I'm sure gore-loving Chainsaw and Dave rankled their feathers, and Gene and Roger were probably humiliated by the way the two splatter-lovers mimicked Siskel and Ebert in their comedy routines. I like Siskel and Ebert, but Chainsaw and Dave are funnier and a hell of a lot cooler than any two stuffed shirt mainstream movie critics could ever hope to be.
The really shocking thing is how Summer School was directed by old school comedy maven Carl Reiner. His previous movies were the epitome of lame, weak comedy. I wouldn't have touched Summer Rental, All of Me, or Oh God! with a ten foot pole in those days. Reiner never did anything as hip as Summer School in his entire career.
Time has passed. thirty-five years. It doesn't seem possible. So much has happened. Glorious highs and soul-destroying lows. Horror and comedy have gone through endless changes, and none of it compares to the days of Summer School. Movies like Night of the Creeps, House, The Breakfast Club, Vamp, The Lost Boys, Fright Night, Friday the 13 VI: Jason Lives, Adventures in Babysitting, A Nightmare on Elm Street 3: Dream Warriors, Hello Mary Lou: Prom Night 2, Heaven Help Us, Maximum Overdrive. I can go on and on. These are the movies that made me who I am today. The ones that planted the seeds which germinated into the comedy and horror loving old guy I eventually became. I can never properly express my gratitude to the people who made the movies, wrote the books, tore my tickets, rented me tapes, and experienced it along with me.
And when things get dark, as they will, when life grinds down my spirit and I'm all alone, I tiptoe toward my record player and drop the needle onto my Summer School soundtrack album. "Happy" starts up and I dance like I am twenty-six again.
Written by Mark Sieber
The author does not allow comments to this entry
No comments