A Critical Analysis of the Costumes in 'Girls Just Want To Have Fun.'

Do you like how proper the title of this movie is?

Some of you might think I'm just being mean by picking on 'GJWTHF,' a gem replete with so many 80s-style hijinks that it should collapse under the weight of Sarah Jessica Parker's unhinged effervescence. But please remember I'm not mean: I'M A FAN, which is why I'm so mean. Why the hell else would I spend so many hours combing the internet for screen grabs of Helen Hunt's barrettes? Hence, 'GJWTHF's inclusion into what will now officially be a recurring post on this blawg: the critical analysis of so many awesome fucking costumes, amazing hair/makeup stylings and moments of costume DRAMA that I should probably instigate a ratings system for it separate from the Nickelback standard.

From now on, costume admiration shall be rewarded with this timeless image of The Bake worshiping Ariel's boots (that her daddy hates). There is no costume as potent as the red cowboy boot.

So the costume designer for 'GJWHF' didn't exactly have a standout career, but who cares, because she did this movie, and that should allow her entrance into Valhalla no matter what (and who the hell am I to throw stones, as I sit on my couch pondering how to hot glue a cat toy onto a banana clip to wear to work tomorrow?). All of those dopey teen/dance/school/love/rebellion movies from the mid-80s smell the same, but this movie stands out in particular because the costumes are off the chain - and I don't mean that they suck, I mean that they're actually creative while also being ludicrous.

We essentially have 2 areas of costume excellence in this movie: daywear and dancewear. The first is best illustrated through Helen Hunt's costumes. As the Wacky Bestie, she spends most of the movie squirming out of her Catholic school uniform and into whatever insanity the costumer decided would be the opposite of a Catholic school uniform. The second is best illustrated through everything that happens on Dance TV, a sensational hybrid of MTV and Soul Train hosted by Richard Blade, whose skinny ties and dulcet tones were an important wedge in the Trivial Pursuit pie of my 80s experience. SJP is the linchpin dancer of this timeless tale. Her costumes mainly revolve around the status of her virginity, as is right and proper for a movie of this ilk. What is the thematic point of all this, you ask? It's to illustrate that in this new age of style and substance, there is a direct connection between sex and spandex. Meaning! I HAZ IT.

And now, as Billy Hixx would say, "Let's rock!"

From the jump we know we're in for something good when all the DTVers get their Casio on by shakin' it in matching tank tops/socks, black miniskirts, Michael Jackson gloves and rad wraparound studded belts. I totally did a dance routine in that matching top/sock combo when I performed in the Junior Miss Pageant, BTW. And no, you can't see video of that, so stop asking.

Wacky Bestie shows her DTV love by stripping on the school bus. She's rigged her kilt to reverse into a leather skirt and velcros off her blazer sleeves so she can rock a fur collared-plaid vest, plus she puts on a studded belt and barrettes with plastic Dimetrodons on them. And this is just to babysit! I feel SO LAZY. You should too, SJP!

The great thing about the daywear is that even throwaway costumes get love. When twelve-year old Brenda (sorry, Shannen Doherty) first shows up, she's wearing a vaguely boring striped sweatshirt, but she has a dang rhinestone brooch pinned to it!

We can't forget the Bad Boy Love Interest (TM The 80s). This clown is giving me serious Mitch Gaylord in 'American Anthem' vibes, even though that movie came after this movie; it ultimately doesn't matter, because the Rick Springfield style (semi-mullet, jeans, leather jacket, sweaty over-revealing tank top/sweatshirt cut into a muscle shirt) is eternal. Remember, he's here to make sexytimes with the protagonist, so he has to dress, uh, like he's always just had sex, or is about to have sex. Right?

Holy shitsnacks! Did I have a brain tumor for breakfast, or is that awesome?

The Bitchy Girl in 'GJWTHF' has some serious costume 'tude, and by that I mean that compared to Wacky Bestie everything she wears that might be ridiculous looks super-serious. When we first meet her she matches her room, which is decorated as though Joel Schumacher smeared harlequin masks and ballet all over the walls like a chimp smearing poop on a rock. Everything is that pale dirt pink color reminiscent of Flashdance, including her costumes and makeup. We know she's a rich bitch because she's lounging around in a silk shortie as though waiting for Matt Dillon to crawl through her window, but then she really hammers it home: she totally has Cher's closet from 'Clueless'! But I bet she knows exactly where her white collarless shirt from Fred Segal is.

FABULOUS.

So when everybody shows up for the DTV auditions, we get to see some dancewear action. First, our heroines are ready to dance, and by that I mean Wacky Bestie is ready and SJP is still wearing her lame school uniform (which the drug-addled audition coordinator thinks is "a 'Sound of Music' fashion risk."), because she's a virgin. Bestie is wearing my (and possibly everyone's) favorite costume of the whole movie:

All joking aside, this is really good. The grasshopper on her hat is comedic, but her actual outfit is solid: a black bodysuit, an awesome off-the-shoulder tunic with that big sexy cutout in back, an army-green duffel jacket and black legwarmers that give her legs a great shape. Unlike SJP, she clearly gets laid all the time!

I'd also like to give a quick shoutout to American Anthem's sidekick, Jonathan Silverman. I like that his character is a complete cipher but still gets to have a bit of costume flair. His nerd entrepreneur style, which is fairly consistent, is a Henley shirt under collared shirt under blazer, with some kind of color or pattern juju making it interesting. He wears a bright lavender Oxford in one scene, even. I dig this one in particular, especially with collar UP:

And, he's come to the DTV auditions to sell t-shirts! He is ALL about costume.

Brenda, however, is not so sartorially savvy this time.

I believe that might be Puffy Paint (TM) all over that pink sweatshirt. I'm surprised at you, Brenda! You were on the cutting edge with that cool brooch! No Red Scrunchie (TM) for you.

Bitchy Girl shows up overdressed for the party in white fur, which she peels off to reveal a relatively serious brown getup with a wide gold python belt. (She must be saving the heavy lifting for the final dance-off.)

Everybody else who shows up for these DTV auditions has brought their dancewear A-game. To wit, a list:

1. a Pointer Sisters dance team wearing cute floral dresses, tons of jewelry, striped leggings and fascinators
2. ballerinas in that somehow depressing pale dirt pink again
3. a dude with a studded belt wrapped around his fucking thigh
4. a dude in trashed jeans, suspenders, no shirt, black gloves and a belt made of handcuffs
5. a New Wave dance team in excellently coordinating red-and-black outfits complete with dangling single earrings and tons of wrapped belts
6. a square dance dance team straight outta Nashville
7. a low-budget sock hop dance team straight outta 'Grease'
8. a Chicago cop who looks like he wandered onto the set by accident
9. teenaged twins in excellently coordinating red-and-black jazz outfits
10. a couple dressed in burgundy and black Stevie Nicks outfits

SJP and American Anthem are, frankly, the least interesting of the bunch. At least Anthem's wearing a cut-up red shirt and blue jeans meant to harken to the colors of James Dean's outfit in 'Rebel Without a Cause.' SJP does her whole dance and gymnastics audition with her hair flying around all over the place. How does she not step on it when she does all those flips and shit? It must be SCIENCE!

Aside: I wish I could find a picture of the beleaguered assistant audition coordinator, because her outfit is also terrific: pencils holding her hair up, a military-style cargo shirt under a hacked-up Brandeis sweatshirt, and genie pants. WHAT?!?

At Anthem's school (he's in high school? Seriously?) we catch a quick glimpse of serendipitous 80s crossover magic: Stiles, from the abominable Jason Bateman movie 'Teen Wolf Too,' is in the hallway with a girl wearing a terrific callback to the Pink Lady costumes from 'Grease.' Remember how Stiles also sold stylish Teen Wolf t-shirts? Just like Jonathan Silverman?

No? You don't remember that? Because you never saw that movie, because it was a flaming sack of shit left on cinema's doorstep? Ah, right, okay, gotcha.

Wacky Bestie gives us another glimpse into her fashion genius: the mysterious costume she's wearing when she's mysteriously at the dance studio, not dancing. I'm guessing she's just there to make us jealous of this:

Davy Crockett hat? Check. Chuck Taylors with slouchy socks? Check. Shaped skirt with oversized New Wave tunic covered in flair over cut-up sweatshirt, accented with scarf, belt and insane rubber duffel bag? CHECK! No wonder SJP is freaking out in this screen grab! Who wouldn't be?

Bestie finally rubs off a little on SJP. When they go to the mall, she doesn't wear her damned uniform, for once; she wears a jean skirt and jacket, a big white collared shirt (which totally gives me flashbacks to shopping for Esprit at the Westside Pavilion), a pink shell clip in her hair and WHITE PUMPS WITH SOCKS YES. At least she's not going to publicly humiliate Bestie, who's confidently wearing a cute daywear/dancewear hybrid of a minidress with another cutout tunic over it - it's enough to give her legitimacy when they run around inviting all of Chicago's riffraff to Bitchy Girl's deb party.

No words needed.

There are so many sick-assed costumes through this Gettin' It Together montage that it's worth watching the movie just for 80s clothing inspiration, in case you, I don't know, have an office Halloween party to go to or something. Mohawked punks in Social D jackets, lady bodybuilders wearing spandex and rainbow suspenders, Slash (possibly), Gibson Girls, Debbie Harry wannabes with geometric face makeup, greasers, girls with green dreads and Iris Apfel glasses, and a shitpile of extras who may have been in the actual titular Cyndi Lauper video are all hanging out at the Peach Pit together! It's glorious!

All of these people are going to crash the Bitchy Girl's deb ball. Jonathan Silverman's already there, dashing in a tux with plaid cummerbund and bow tie, as is American Anthem, sporting a revolting combination of jeans, unbuttoned tux shirt and cutaway tails. This isn't a Herb Ritts photo shoot, dude! Bitchy Girl makes her entrance in an evening cocktail ensemble which looks like Andie from 'Pretty in Pink' got her grubby mitts all over it, but her triumph is short-lived when all the riffraff crash the party and fuck shit up. There is an infamous super-plus-bonus in this scene:

I...uh...what is Iron Man wearing? Come to think of it, what is that other guy wearing? Was there a New Wave movement involving styling by Jo-Ann Fabrics that I missed?

Bitchy Girl is not fucking around. BTW, who let that elderly woman wearing the aqua turtleneck in?

OK, remember what I said about Bestie influencing SJP? Well, so does Anthem. When she sneaks out to go dancing with him, she wears a muscle shirt and jeans JUST LIKE HIM! I hope she gets some style of her own someday. Oh, wait, yeah, I forgot.

It's time for SJP to come into her fashion own. Are you ready for some deep analysis, motherfuckers? You knew it was coming. So SJP and Anthem made out, because, dancing together, you know how it goes. Now, when rehearsing her smooth moves, she sports a white leotard (!) without a skirt, some Flashdance off-the-shoulder style, a two-piece leotard plus suspenders (!), and, in one scene, her version of the outfit Bestie wore at the mall. This, of course, is all related to her burgeoning sexuality, taking us from one superlative cliche to another: prissy Catholic schoolgirl becomes gyrating hussy. Her trajectory climaxes (see what I did there?) in a terrifying scene where she's in her bedroom with her much younger brother, wearing a pink fitted tank top and bikini underwear. YIKES. But it's the only way her character can get to a place where she has the stones to rebel against her dad and sneak out of the house so she can dance on DTV, of course! I told you, THIS MOVIE HAS A POINT!

Bestie (wearing a kookoo lace combo pioneered by Madonna [a legendary pioneer of sex costuming, of course] with her hair sprayed straight up in the air) helps her finally escape her virginal prison and they haul balls to the DTV studio. Anthem is waiting for her there with bated breath AND with a smoky eye, bronze lame dance pants with a studded belt, a white blazer with the sleeves rolled up and a midriff-baring splatter-painted shirt.

Aaaand the GIFs just keep on comin'!

Because SJP's taken charge of her sexuality she symbolically rips off her good-girl overalls to reveal her sparkly pink dance costume. She's magically rockin' a perm, too. Want me to assign some kind of symbolism to that as well? OK, her hair is bodaciously curly instead of stick-straight now because, uh, she's taken charge of her sexuality. How's that?

The dancewear for the DTV finals is mostly typical  80s competitive stuff, except for those teenaged twins, without whom Janelle Monae would have no game. This look is tight. Also, they should have won the contest. SJP's a skilled dancer, but Anthem moves like Willard before Ren teaches him how to disco. Just sayin'.

Bitchy Girl busts out her poshest dancewear, a mauve sequined lingerie-styled leotard Richard Blade tells us is a "Michelle St-Germain original." Is there such a thing? The Google didn't seem to think so, but since this movie existed before the Google did, it's possible it's mistaken. Regardless, it's not enough, because although that costume IS sex, SJP wins and blah blah blah. We've got one more costume victory right at the end here: Bestie, also apparently relinquishing her career as a high school student to be on TV full-time, appears driving a chariot in a belted gold lame tunic with a tiara garnished with one of those rubber finger puppets with wiggly arms.

Again, see what I did there?

Most incredible part: there are only 3 people in the costume department listed in the credits. They definitely deserve this, once more, with feeling:

NOT. FAIR.

I worked hard at this one, you guys. Carnac the Magnificent couldn't have given it more of a go than I. But all my efforts paid off, and the Netflix Gods granted me yet another exquisite shitshow of an action blockbuster with so many cliches stuffed up its ass, it's got poop swimming in its eyes: 'The Core.' A movie that doubtless had the budget equivalent to a mid-sized EU country's annual GNP, a movie starring Oscar and Tony winners, a movie with a premise so preposterous that it just might be true and the government is keeping it a secret: that is 'The Core.' Sometimes I wonder if I should buy all these heinous action movies on the DVD and construct a special bookshelf/shrine just for them, so I won't have to expend so much energy trolling through the Instant lists looking for them.

So, in 'The Core,' a giant dildo ship piloted by a ragtag gang of nerds penetrates into the Urf in order to detonate a nuke so the Urf's core can start spinning in the right direction. This movie is two hours and fourteen minutes of Olympic-caliber fuckery, with all those Oscar and Tony winners reciting stupid dialogue or sitting around inside the dildo ship with their mouths hanging open while terrible digital effects swirl around outside the ship as the Urf heads towards yet another cinematic apocalypse which can only be averted through a battery of cliches, tropes, and stereotypes.

But before I could formulate a carefully-crafted Danger Zone post beyond my stellar introduction up there,  THE NETFLIX GODS FUCKING TOOK IT DOWN! Like three days after it went up! That NEVER happens! Obviously, one of the following things happened:

1. Hilary Swank's publicist heard me talking shit about 'The Core' while in line at Millions of Milkshakes and realized her stellar career couldn't take yet another hit, so she bailed outta there without even waiting for her Million Dollar European Speciality shake, hauled balls in her Kia over to the Netflix HQ and threatened to set the building on fire unless they gave her back her stapler - er, uh, I mean, took the movie off the Instant queue

2. I didn't sacrifice enough varmint roadkill on the Netflix Gods altar I built in my backyard

3. Somebody at Netflix realized it wasn't supposed to be on the Instant in the first place and removed it

Which one do you think, guys? I'm guessing number 2. I take full blame for this. It'll never happen again, I swear.

Only Poo.

Possibly the worst post title in the history of western civilization.

So, you guys know how I love stupid expensive overblown movies from the 90s, and I also love dumb 80s movies, possibly more than good 80s movies? Well, I've got one that falls somewhere in the black hole created at the nexus of shitty 90s and shitty 80s movies, and that's 'Only You,' yet another movie I can't believe was actually made in the decade it was made in. This derpfest was birthed like a goat with two heads covered in placenta juice in 1992?! Remember what came out in 1992? (I like doing these unfair comparisons.) Last O' the Mohicans. Glengarry Glen Ross. UNFORGIVEN. So I'm going to say that director Betty Thomas should remain unforgiven for making this movie.

This is a movie about Farmer Ted (as with every time I mis-label a character, I know it's Andrew McCarthy and not Anthony Michael Hall, and hopefully you won't take umbrage at my sullying of Farmer Ted's good name) trying to get it on with Mrs. John Travolta while Helen Hunt wishes he would fuck her instead. It's good already, right? Almost as good as that wig Farmer Ted wore at the end of 'Pretty in Pink'!

Thanks to some intern working at the Netflix Instant, 'Only You' has been weirdly chopped up from whatever its original aspect ratio was into something that looks like it aired on channel 2569 at four in the morning sandwiched in-between an infomercial for Nads and a static shot of a local dog park. Whatever Netflix is showing MIGHT actually be someone's old VHS tape they pulled out from their hope chest. Makes it better, I say! We start with the camera moving through a doll house and into a party in a real house as though it were the point of view of a serial killer wearing corrective sunglasses. Farmer Ted (the designer of said doll house), looking puffy and bewildered (as was Andrew McCarthy's way in the 90s), is apparently marrying a hot girl who let him make a sexist Christmas card of her giving Santa a lap dance. When he calls her to remind her they're going on vacation in a couple of hours, she's apparently blown him off and left town, in the casually ludicrous way movies like this work. Surprised, Ted? Well, don't worry, I'm pretty sure you'll end up getting laid by the end of this movie regardless.

Although it's apparently like 9 pm on Christmas eve, Ted goes to a travel agency (YE OLDEN DAZE) staffed only by an Amish-looking Helen Hunt, who is frantically trying to appease two elderly Jewish stereotypes whose dialogue revolves around diarrhea. Ted gets mad at Amish Helen and calls her 'baby,' because this is the 90s, I guess, even though what he should have called her was a cab to the nearest travel agent training school, as she got the elderly couple tickets to Helsinki instead of Shreveport. COMEDY GOLD!

After Farmer Ted has a daydream about his former fiance servicing him whilst wearing an apron (I mean - seriously - a woman directed this!?), he decides to go down to the bar, where he fortuitously meets Mrs. Travolta, who also just got dumped. Sporting a deep fried perm and a Marilyn Monroe accent about on par with Dennis Rodman singing 'Happy Birthday Mr. President' to his bestie Kim Jong Un, Mrs. Travolta does the following, in order: motorboats him, tries to jerk him off and then stands in front of him so her vagine is in his face. What the shit is in the water in this movie!

Because the 90s, Farmer Ted takes Mrs. Travolta to a resort on the exotic beaches of Oxnard (thank you, IMDB), where, yep, he gets laid, even though in the morning Mrs. T doesn't remember a thing. Farmer Ted can't believe that's the case, though, as he is apparently a sensational lover: he calls himself 'Big Cliff' and says the hotel is going to have to change the springs on the bed. Who knew! After Mrs. T freaks out Farmer Ted emotionally rapes her a little by refusing to let her leave and doing creepy shit like bugging his eyes out and smiling while saying "You forget, we got very close last night." When she points out that she got so blackout drunk she could have been picked up by a rapist, Farmer Ted has to pause and consider her logic. Jesus wept!

Because the 90s again, Farmer Ted dominates poor Mrs. T and forces her to stay with him. But guess what! Amish Helen shows up (on Christmas Day?). FLY IN THE OINTMENT! When Farmer Ted ruins a brochure photograph for the resort she's taking (on Christmas Day?), he threatens to kill her with a huge butcher knife. The fuck!

The next day the tables begin to turn. Where Farmer Ted was once controlling and manipulative, now it's Mrs. T who's making him her bitch. She walks onto the beach in black latex, eliciting a definitively inappropriate catcall from a four year old with a bowl cut, and proceeds to make Farmer Ted do a bunch of emasculating shit that he clearly deserves. When Farmer Ted gets her a drink, she bails on him to go sailing with a bunch of hot guys. I'm having so much trouble deciding who's side I'm on!

Farmer Ted is nearly drowned by a sentient bed of kelp and rescued by...Amish Helen! He blows HER off, though, to go yell at Mrs. T for not fucking him all day long and instead going off 'sailing' (I'm using that as a euphemism for 'fucking,' in case you couldn't tell). So guess what happens? She fucks him in a swing on the beach! Now I REALLY don't know whose side I'm on.

Because Mrs. T blew him off again, Farmer Ted embarks on a series of photographic shenanigans with Amish Helen, including: getting shipwrecked, wearing pink shorts, and playing with the kid with the bowl cut. The latter makes Amish Helen - sporting a pair of overalls that Uncle Jesse would have felt at home wearing - get all warm in the baby maker, as the Lifetime piano music tinkling in the background tells us. They even fake a romantical dinner for the brochure, and we know it's romantical because Amish Helen is wearing her best Sunday-go-to-meetin' dress and Farmer Ted's wearing the shit out of a white suit like he's the fifth member of Color Me Badd. But Mrs. T snaps her fingers, and Farmer Ted jumps! INTO BED!

I feel that deserves the big boss Drop the Mic gif.

After a couple of inconsequential shots of a bunch of old people doing water aerobics and a postcoital shot of Mrs. T dreaming about those big blue dormitories on Fountain Avenue, she tries to run out on Farmer Ted again. He convinces her to stay by putting on those bug eyes again and emotionally raping her some more, but it's no dice, leaving Farmer Ted to pass New Year's Eve with Amish Helen. Are the Amish allowed to party on New Year's? Well, Amish Helen certainly thinks so, because she wears the Judy's version of Julia Roberts's 'Pretty Woman' dress in order to seduce Farmer Ted at the Enchantment Under the Sea dance!

If only they'd gotten Cassandra to play the gig! I guess she must have already been booked at the Dew Drop Inn.

So at the end here it comes down to a real Sophie's Choice for Farmer Ted. Should he shit all over Amish Helen yet again, even though he just made out with her and she clearly hot-rollered her hair for him, or should he move in with Mrs. T, who keeps yanking his dick? Well, Farmer Ted goes as far as getting on the plane with Mrs. T, who's generously offered to induct him into the Mile High Club, but then he bails on her (YAHTZEE!) and leaves her to fuck the goombah in the seat next to him.

What do you guys think happens in the end, after Farmer Ted runs Amish Helen down at a Target, nearly blowing her off one last time for some hot girl on aisle 7 inexplicably holding a trumpet?

10 Things That Suck About 'Skyfall'

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Do I dare?

I do.

Everybody knows 'BMX Bandits' (Or, 'Le Gang des BMX,' as it's AWESOMELY known in France) was Nicole Kidman's first film in the early 80s, and if you don't, then either you don't play enough Trivial Pursuit Entertainment Edition or you don't care enough about stupid shit that has zero relevance to humanity. Since I definitely care about the latter, let's discuss!

Now, when I was a kid BMX was not really The One. Skateboarding was what all the cool guys did. The guys who rode BMX were primed to grow up into hesher assclowns, unlike the skateboarders, who grew up into stoners or financial advisors. I was always a little scared of the BMX guys. In Australia, though, it appears that BMX guys (and girl) are not only cool, they have style (do not argue with me on that) AND they are skilled in outsmarting bad guys three times their age!

I want to say right off the bat that even though Nicole Kidman probably didn't know what she was doing that you can tell throughout this film she's doing the best she can. You can also tell she's talented, or, at least, she's going to become talented. You can ALSO tell she's going to become a plastic surgery addict and Botox hag, because while some might think her face in these early days had a lot of character in a cute fresh Raggedy Ann kinda way, others, including herself, clearly did not, as she now looks like an injection-molded albino salamander in a busted Lindsay Lohan wig.

And...so it goes in Hollywood.

So this is a movie about some kids stealing walkie talkies and hooligans chasing them. The fact that walkie-talkies are central to the "plot" kind of tells you everything you need to know. I mean, usually Gettin' It Together (TM) movies from the 80s have some kind of emotional core, like Saving Grandpa's Farm or Helping The Underdog Get Hot, but these selfish brats just want to build a skate park where they can ride their bikes, get high and give each other handjobs (sorry, I just watched 'Rushmore.').  The bigger thing here is how beautifully this movie captures the Vegemite-esque culture of early 80s Australia. Thanks to the cinematographer, the dude who also shot 'Witness' (!) and 'The English Patient' (!) (I guess everybody's gotta start somewhere), there are many loving shots of Australia that give us a wondrous sense of the glory of that magnificent land down under. There's lots of shots of the sparkling ocean, lots of pink, pastel blue and yellow, and weird things that feel almost like normal things, but they're Australian (Note that I keep saying 'Australia' because although it is a large continent, I have no idea where in Australia this story actually takes place).

We start off watching two kids jammin' along the Australian seashore. They are dressed to match their bikes, which is a solid fashion choice, and are wearing weird Hannibal Lecter face masks, which is a poor fashion choice. Every time one of the kids pulls a trick move on his bike there is a sound effect like a door opening on the Starship Enterprise. Are these magical BMX bikers? Unclear.

Then a van driven by some hooligans busts through the plate window of a bank and the hooligans rob it. The cops hop on it right away. The Australian part of this is that the police station is painted bright blue and yellow with red accents, like a daycare center. Then there's some action in the street, which gives us a nice perspective on the Australianness of everything else:

Example A: all the cars are wrong
Example B: the bikers ride past a t-shirt shop called 'Noo Zoo: Animal Zoo Corner'
Example C: a cop calls the BMX bikes 'push bikes'
Example D: there are some hijinks involving lowbrow sex jokes that Benny Hill, who was not Australian but may as well have been, would have been proud of: a mannequin is flung onto a bewildered priest in a position simulating cunnilingus, and a girl bends over so her asscheeks hang out below her skirt

The above is just a random picture I pulled off the internet to reinforce my statements about Australia being weird.

The two biker guys swap quips (I LOVE QUIPS) and run into Nicole at the Australian version of the Peach Pit. The sincere one is named PJ, which is a name best suited to a high school varsity wrestler who gets the student government treasurer pregnant, and the sarcastic one is named Goose, which is a Christmas Miracle.

If I'd've been in charge of this movie, the rest of it would have been Nicole, Goose and PJ hanging out at the Peach Pit, with occasional musical stylings from Men at Work, but unfortunately I was not. I would even have been satisfied if the actual Goose had showed up and both Geese had a BMX bike-off with the ownership of the Peach Pit at stake. When the bike-off resulted in a tie, the Geese would shake on it and turn the Peach Pit over to the crusty short-order cook who's worked there for decades, played by Crocodile Dundee. Then there would be a big dance number while special guest star Olivia Newton John sang 'Xanadu.'

Instead, the BMX kids find a bunch of walkie talkies and gank them out from under the hooligans. They go around selling the walkie talkies to their friends, including the requisite gender-neutral fat kid (who's actually credited as 'Fat Kid', which must have gone a long way as a career move) wearing a visor hat with solar cells on it. This is a prescient costuming choice, as the hole in the ozone layer will eventually position itself over Australia!

The hooligans end up chasing the bikers into a gargantuan cemetery, which precipitates about 75 minutes of 'chasing', 'hiding,' and spooky music reminiscent of this:

Nicole hooks up with Goose after they fall into an open grave full of rats (!?), which is a story that actor probably recounts frequently down at the pub to the other bored drunks. Nicole rebuffs him, prompting him to describe himself, curiously, as "Zombie of the Year." It turns out that everybody's listening in on the walkie talkies, which includes the cops, who are sitting around getting hot and bothered by all the dirty flirting, but most importantly PJ, setting up a vague romantic conflict which goes absolutely nowhere despite the fact that both of these twerps should clearly want to tap that.

The BMX kids get the matching outfits conveniently labeling them as criminals and Nicole's stunt double does a bunch of bike stunts which get the boys horny. Good for her! And look at her helmet! SO AMAZING. I've hunted, but nobody is making replicas of these shirts. Somebody at Zazzle hurry the fuck up and get on that!

Nicole says, "Two's company, three gets us talked about," which insinuates that at some point she is going to fuck both of those guys at the same time. Oh, Australia! Land of threesomes and koalas! Even more alarmingly, when the hooligans corner Nicole by herself, they insinuate they want to assault and rape her in order to find out where the god damned walkie talkies are. What the WHAT! In Australia, apparently this is the modus operandi:

Because zero fucks are given Down Under, this subsequently happens:

1. A car blows up

2. A building is ripped apart by a tractor

3. The fat kid takes it in the face with a mattress while BMXing at full speed

4. Nicole escapes the clutches of one hooligan while the other hooligan is taking a shit

The BMX bandits together foil the hooligans by throwing them into the harbor, where those poor bastards flounder about in very real terror of being eaten by a shark. Remember, Australia, where every single living organism wants to kill you through some nightmarish means!

Because 'getting away' in a movie like this has to involve as many shenanigans as possible, the bikers then spend the next 75 minutes escaping in a waterslide. This actually looks cool, as waterslides in Australia appear to be clean and sparkly and full of lush tropical plants, unlike here in America, where every time I went to Raging Waters or wherever as a kid I had a vague feeling I was getting a mouthful of fecal matter, tapeworms and giardia every time I went down the slide. The bandits and their push bikes also ride through a mall, the most normal-looking location in the movie, and the cunnilingus-loving priest makes another appearance, whereupon the hooligans make a quick homophobic joke at his expense for some other unknown, possibly Australian reason.

Well, unfortunately for our heroes, their criminal activity catches up to them, thanks to the fat kid ratting them out. They try to make a deal with the cops - something American juvenile criminals would NEVER do! What are they teaching them in the schools down there?! - and, when rebuffed, join forces with all the other push bikers in whatever town they're in to take down the hooligans once and for all. There's some Reich-esque fist-pumping and ignoble screaming about getting their bike track, and we're off for the thrilling climax!

I almost missed what happens in the climax because at this point I was too busy being romanced by the Australian dialogue to pay attention. Here are some gems:

"Your little walkie-talkies have gone walkies."

"Let's put the frighteners in 'em."

"You're right in the poo now, sister."

Luckily for me, the climax is so epic my attention was immediately re-focused. The BMXers get one over on the hooligans by throwing flour at them! I wonder if this was the inspiration for the bad guy to die of suffocation in a silo full of grain in 'Witness.'

This screen grab has nothing to do with either grain silos or BMX bikes, I just like how Harrison Ford looks like he's taking this Amish guy hostage while Aragorn helps him out.

The conclusion to this story is that criminals get what they want, because the push bike gang gets their skate park, bemusingly called 'Manly BMX Track.' Is Manly what we are meant to believe prepubescent bikers are? Or, in the last frames of the movie, do we actually find out where it takes place? It must be the latter, because as far as I know there's no deleted scene for the Blu-Ray showing Goose and PJ becoming men by finally having sex with Nicole. The very end is a long shot following Nicole while actually biking, with an Academy Award-winning look of dead seriousness on her once-sweet face, as though somehow she knew she was going to be a huge star and was already making demands like 'I want a clear shot of me and not my stunt double actually riding this fucking bike.'

I think this movie deserves more than two Nickelback thumbs-up. I reckon it deserves a proper Australian send-off!