Joe Bob Briggs
All right, that's enough. Let's stop stealin' one another's football teams.
I was just gettin' used to the Carolina Panthers, for God's sake, and the Jacksonville Jagwires, and now they're expecting the words "Nashville Oilers" to come out of my mouth?
Heck, I still can't say "Indianapolis Colts," much less "St. Louis Rams."
Have you ever seen the front page of a local newspaper on the day a city either gains or loses a professional football team?
They didn't use type this big when Kennedy got shot.
I know it's a Big Deal and everything, but come on, it's not that big of a deal.
The cities that lose the teams go around in shame for weeks, like they just got word from the Mayo Clinic that they're hopelessly bald and impotent.
Then the shame turns to anger, as they blame the evil owner for caring too much about Money and not enough about The Fans.
But then they realize that, hey, there weren't that many fans, and so they start blaming the public. "Why didn't this city support this team?" Stuff like that.
Look. It's not such a bad thing.
Look what happened in El Lay. They lost both their football teams in one year, and the result is...
You can watch all the pro games you want on TV!
You don't have to watch the Rams or the Raiders anymore, or, even worse, get blacked out because the Rams and the Raiders failed to sell all their tickets that week.
But look what goes on in New York, which has two football teams, two basketball teams, two baseball teams and four goldurned hockey teams.
Those are the only teams you can watch on TV!
Every Sunday afternoon, it's the Jets and the Giants, the Giants and the Jets, causing massive numbers of men to decide that they'd rather take the wife to the botanical gardens.
But losing your football team might be good for another reason.
It might be that nobody went to the games because there are better things to do in the area.
Why are smaller cities taking teams away from larger ones?
Because the larger cities have more people who don't live or die according to the weekly football score.
I mean, they may like football. They might even love football. But sometimes Pavarotti is in town, or Courtney Love.
There are Other Things To Do.
Losing your football team, in these crazy days, might just be a sign of maturity.
I'm surprised I have to explain this to you people.
Speaking of American institutions, this week's flick has a scene that is destined to become immortal--Shannon Tweed and Andrew Dice Clay in a kung-fu death struggle.
After they've both bloodied a few body parts and broken a few bones, Shannon says, "Don't you know you're not supposed to hit a woman?" And Dice says, "I hit everyone equally." And then the kung-fu continues.
I speak, of course, of No Contest, starring the Diceman (who now refers to himself simply as "Andrew Clay") as an international drug dealer who infiltrates the Miss Galaxy Pageant, takes the five finalists hostage in a hotel penthouse, gruesomely executes several dozen innocent bystanders, and demands $10 million in diamonds or else he's gonna waste the beautiful daughter of a weaselly senator.
What Dice doesn't realize is that one of his hostages is Shannon Tweed, the famous female kung-fu movie star, and she's been doing some upper body work, if you know what I mean and I think you do.
The other thing he doesn't know is that Robert Davi is downstairs in the SWAT team van, waiting for a chance to take out some babes.
What we've got here is basically Die Hard With Babes, with a special appearance by Roddy Piper as Dice's killer henchman. Tweed, Clay, Davi and Piper--does it get any better than this?
I think not.
Thirty-three dead bodies. No breasts. (Shannon Tweed is in the movie, and there are zero breasts. Go figure.)
Three exploding cars. Exploding beauty contestant, with crash and burn.
Groin-shooting. Knife-throwing. Steam face-scalding.
Eye-gouging. Steel spike through the body. Ice-bag face-bashing.
High-rise swan dive. Throat-cutting. Automatic-weapons Jamboree.
Kung fu. Headbutt fu.
Drive-In Academy Award nominations for:
*Shannon Tweed, as the ex-beauty-contestant-turned-martial-arts-movie-star, for saying, "You'd better wipe your lip--there's a trace of venom showing."
*Robert Davi, as the tight-lipped bodyguard, for saying, "Don't show your fear, and don't b.s. him."
*Keram Malicki-Sanchez, as the technogeek terrorist with a burr haircut, for saying, "Sharon Bell--she's like a Bruce Lee with boobs, man!"
*And Andrew Dice Clay, as the terrorist, for saying, "I don't understand--I kill several innocent people and threaten to blow up a building and the police still don't take me seriously."
Joe Bob says check it out.
Joe Bob's Find That Flick
This week's temple-throbber comes from...Debbie Pape of Woodbine, Ga.:
"Since you go back into those old-movie files, see if you can find this one for me.
"It starred David Bowie. He and his girl were living off the blood of young women. No vampire teeth, they did it with some kind of transfusion instead.
"The movie ended with him and two other girls 'making it,' then the house crumbled around them.
"I don't know the name of this movie, but I do remember it being shown on a cable channel in 1983.
"I'd be really tickled if you found it and perhaps showed it on your cable program. I think it's a three-star."
A video will be awarded to the correct answer. (The winner chooses from a list of about a thousand titles.) In the event of a tie, a drawing will be held. Send "Find That Flick" questions and solutions to Joe Bob Briggs, P.O. Box 2002, Dallas, Texas 75221, or fax them to 214-985-7448, or e-mail them to Joe Bob on the Internet: firstname.lastname@example.org.
Copyright 1995 Joe Bob Briggs (Distributed by NYT Special Features/Syndication Sales)
Get the Film Club Newsletter
Stay up to date on the best new movies with our critics' latest reviews, interviews and trailers for the films coming to a theater near you each week.