I'm obviously a huge fan of drive-in theaters. It had to begin somewhere. I have vague memories of the one time my parents took us to one in Baltimore back in the '60s. It was probably Bengie's Drive-In. Looking at a map tells me it was only a few miles from the house where I grew up. I remember my siblings talking about it more than I actually recall any details of the movie. It was Clarence, the Cross-Eyed Lion, which was released in 1965. I was four years old.
No, it was a decade later when drive-in fever struck me.
It was a summer night, 1976. I was fifteen, but I find that difficult to believe now. It seems like I was a few years younger. I was an innocent, geeky little pipsqueak who knew a lot more about comic books and science fiction than girls or partying.
I was hanging around the house, which was in Virginia. A car pulled up out front, and a school buddy ran up to the door. His older brother's date had to back out. Not one to be dejected, the elder teenager got his little bro, picked up a couple of friends, and carted us off to the drive-in.
What a thrill it was. Off on a hot Saturday night, cruising with a cool older guy, bound for a pair of R-Rated movies.
The brother got himself a twelve-pack of beer, and he bought a few sixers of soda for us kids.
The movies? Sundance Cassidy and Butch the Kid and Hollywood High, No, I didn't get the first title backwards. That was the name. Sundance Cassidy and Butch the Kid is a retitled plate of Spaghetti Western and is considered by connoisseurs to be a forerunner of the popular Trinity series starring Terence Hill.
Sundance Cassidy and Butch the Kid, also known as Sundance and the Kid, Alive or Preferably Dead, as well as its proper title, Vivi o preferibilmente morti, is a buffoonish comedy with Three Stooges-like lowbrow wit. I am not a fan of such things and have no interest in revisiting it.
Western movies had a grip on popular entertainment for decades, and the genre was still hanging on by a thread when we saw Sundance Cassidy and Butch the Kid. We liked the movie. However, we loved Hollywood High.
I recently happened upon a blu-ray of Hollywood High. Talk about spray painting a turd. I knew it would be bad, but I watched it over the course of a couple of mornings. I couldn't take it all in one sitting.
Hollywood High is a teen farce along the lines of Crown International Pictures extravaganzas like The Pom Pom Girls and The Cheerleaders. Only, believe it or not, Hollywood High doesn't have the high level of sophistication as those productions. It's a cheap, ugly, unbearably stupid waste of everyone's time.
The story, such as it is, concerns four young ladies cavorting around town in a choice red roadster. The girls are hungry for kicks, and they tease guys, talk trash, drink and get high as they search for privacy to indulge in carnal pursuits.
Nothing works in this movie. The acting isn't even laughable. The photography and editing are crude and amateur. The pop songs could be used to induce nausea. Particularly egregious is a nitwit Henry Winkler clone called "The Fenz". Of course there is the obligatory bumbling idiot cop being humiliated at every turn as he ineffectually chases the kids.
Hollywood High has really grotesque homophobia. The girls are brainless and the guys are sexist jerks. How was this acceptable even then? The answer is, it wasn't. Critics savaged teensploitation movies a lot better than Hollywood High. This movie was and is beneath contempt.
We thought it was great. All of us roared with laughter and in the days ahead raved about Hollywood High to all our jealous friends. The movie was made for sad young boys like us. Too nerdy to talk to girls, painfully shy and socially unacceptable. Is it any wonder we entered adulthood with messed-up conceptions of society?
Hollywood High is even worse than I thought it would be. There are utterly no redeeming values in it. The movie is demeaning to everyone involved.
And yet...I felt a wave of nostalgia as I watched the film. It brought back days when summer meant freedom and seemed like it lasted an eternity. When possibilities were endless. When a night out with two friends and a charitable older brother was magic.
It's as happy time as I can remember from my childhood. High with the joy of being out without parental supervision. Watching two illicit movies under the stars. Jacked up on sugary caffeine. Thank God there were no energy drinks in those days. No one needs that much artificial stimulation.
The movies ended all too soon. The older brother drove us home as we howled with joy. He cruised through the neighborhood and tossed beer cans out the window and into front yards. A jerky thing to do, but we thought it was deliciously scandalous.
I never quite got over the initial drive-in high. I've come down considerably since that raucous night, but it's still there. Sadly, the Peninsula Twin Drive-In, where we witnessed the dubious glories of Sundance Cassidy and Butch the Kid and Hollywood High, is long gone. It was the first of our local drive-ins to go. We had a few others, but they fell like dominoes. Newport News is now as generic and compromised by corporations as most other towns in the US of A.
I maintain a lot of gratitude toward my friend's older brother, who gave three boys a grand time to be savored in memory forever. It may not have been as impactful to the others, but I know we all had a magnificent night.
I just checked and saw that the brother died on December 21, 2021. The obituary didn't mention cause of death, only that it was a brief illness. The way he was drinking and smoking that night, I'm not surprised he didn't live past the age of sixty-five. I wish I could have told him how much it always meant to me.
One more thing: Please don't think I am growing up on you. There's a reason Hollywood High never showed up on premium cable channels, and why it didn't ever get a real home video release. It really is that bad. I still think Hardbodies is a smart, enjoyable movie. It, along with Sean Cunningham's Spring Break and a bevy of similar movies, stands tall and proud on my shelf. Right next to my Crown International collection.
Written by Mark Sieber
No, it was a decade later when drive-in fever struck me.
It was a summer night, 1976. I was fifteen, but I find that difficult to believe now. It seems like I was a few years younger. I was an innocent, geeky little pipsqueak who knew a lot more about comic books and science fiction than girls or partying.
I was hanging around the house, which was in Virginia. A car pulled up out front, and a school buddy ran up to the door. His older brother's date had to back out. Not one to be dejected, the elder teenager got his little bro, picked up a couple of friends, and carted us off to the drive-in.
What a thrill it was. Off on a hot Saturday night, cruising with a cool older guy, bound for a pair of R-Rated movies.
The brother got himself a twelve-pack of beer, and he bought a few sixers of soda for us kids.
The movies? Sundance Cassidy and Butch the Kid and Hollywood High, No, I didn't get the first title backwards. That was the name. Sundance Cassidy and Butch the Kid is a retitled plate of Spaghetti Western and is considered by connoisseurs to be a forerunner of the popular Trinity series starring Terence Hill.
Sundance Cassidy and Butch the Kid, also known as Sundance and the Kid, Alive or Preferably Dead, as well as its proper title, Vivi o preferibilmente morti, is a buffoonish comedy with Three Stooges-like lowbrow wit. I am not a fan of such things and have no interest in revisiting it.
Western movies had a grip on popular entertainment for decades, and the genre was still hanging on by a thread when we saw Sundance Cassidy and Butch the Kid. We liked the movie. However, we loved Hollywood High.
I recently happened upon a blu-ray of Hollywood High. Talk about spray painting a turd. I knew it would be bad, but I watched it over the course of a couple of mornings. I couldn't take it all in one sitting.
Hollywood High is a teen farce along the lines of Crown International Pictures extravaganzas like The Pom Pom Girls and The Cheerleaders. Only, believe it or not, Hollywood High doesn't have the high level of sophistication as those productions. It's a cheap, ugly, unbearably stupid waste of everyone's time.
The story, such as it is, concerns four young ladies cavorting around town in a choice red roadster. The girls are hungry for kicks, and they tease guys, talk trash, drink and get high as they search for privacy to indulge in carnal pursuits.
Nothing works in this movie. The acting isn't even laughable. The photography and editing are crude and amateur. The pop songs could be used to induce nausea. Particularly egregious is a nitwit Henry Winkler clone called "The Fenz". Of course there is the obligatory bumbling idiot cop being humiliated at every turn as he ineffectually chases the kids.
Hollywood High has really grotesque homophobia. The girls are brainless and the guys are sexist jerks. How was this acceptable even then? The answer is, it wasn't. Critics savaged teensploitation movies a lot better than Hollywood High. This movie was and is beneath contempt.We thought it was great. All of us roared with laughter and in the days ahead raved about Hollywood High to all our jealous friends. The movie was made for sad young boys like us. Too nerdy to talk to girls, painfully shy and socially unacceptable. Is it any wonder we entered adulthood with messed-up conceptions of society?
Hollywood High is even worse than I thought it would be. There are utterly no redeeming values in it. The movie is demeaning to everyone involved.
And yet...I felt a wave of nostalgia as I watched the film. It brought back days when summer meant freedom and seemed like it lasted an eternity. When possibilities were endless. When a night out with two friends and a charitable older brother was magic.
It's as happy time as I can remember from my childhood. High with the joy of being out without parental supervision. Watching two illicit movies under the stars. Jacked up on sugary caffeine. Thank God there were no energy drinks in those days. No one needs that much artificial stimulation.
The movies ended all too soon. The older brother drove us home as we howled with joy. He cruised through the neighborhood and tossed beer cans out the window and into front yards. A jerky thing to do, but we thought it was deliciously scandalous.
I never quite got over the initial drive-in high. I've come down considerably since that raucous night, but it's still there. Sadly, the Peninsula Twin Drive-In, where we witnessed the dubious glories of Sundance Cassidy and Butch the Kid and Hollywood High, is long gone. It was the first of our local drive-ins to go. We had a few others, but they fell like dominoes. Newport News is now as generic and compromised by corporations as most other towns in the US of A.
I maintain a lot of gratitude toward my friend's older brother, who gave three boys a grand time to be savored in memory forever. It may not have been as impactful to the others, but I know we all had a magnificent night.
I just checked and saw that the brother died on December 21, 2021. The obituary didn't mention cause of death, only that it was a brief illness. The way he was drinking and smoking that night, I'm not surprised he didn't live past the age of sixty-five. I wish I could have told him how much it always meant to me.
One more thing: Please don't think I am growing up on you. There's a reason Hollywood High never showed up on premium cable channels, and why it didn't ever get a real home video release. It really is that bad. I still think Hardbodies is a smart, enjoyable movie. It, along with Sean Cunningham's Spring Break and a bevy of similar movies, stands tall and proud on my shelf. Right next to my Crown International collection.
Written by Mark Sieber
The author does not allow comments to this entry
No comments