If Teen Witch Wins, We All Win

Boy, teenage movies really stoop to the lowest forms of problem solving don't they? Can't get recognition? Disguise yourself as the opposite sex! Wreck your dad's Porche? Hire a prostitute! Can't get a date? Resort to black magic! If I've learned anything at all, it's to grow up as quickly as possible and avoid those pesky teenage years all together.

Louise is a smart, bookish young girl who finds herself repeatedly on the outskirts of popularity. That is, until she discovers at the tender age of 16 that she has inherited special dark powers of the witches of old. Louise is finally able to turn her luck around and gets a chance to become the ring leader of the in-crowd in this surprisingly musical-esque sprinkled teenage comedy.

You know who Louise reminds me of? Jamie Sullivan from A Walk to Remember. A bookish outsider with one tragic quality: Leukemia. Err, did I go too dark? Okay, you know else Louise reminds me of? Carrie. There... phew... Quirky teenage reference quickly mended.

Louise, Jaimie and Carrie all share vast similarities. Their outsiderness combined with their one killer instinct: their willingness to be themselves among an unforgiving crowd. Unfortunately for a few of them, (you know who you are) these stories turn out to be more tragic than one would've hoped.

Yet Louise struggles in many of the same ways that any teen comedy protagonist might find herself in. Her unforeseen identity, the dreamy ideals and the power that lay within. For Louise, the struggle is not in the getting what she wants but alas, it is discovering that it may not always be what you wanted. When her abilities in the area of the dark arts come alive, she finds herself quick to accept how easy it all was. Suddenly she's being picked up for school by the star football player, shaking her pom poms in the cheerleading squad and having her look copied by dozens of overzealous wannabe schoolmates. Do these people really find her as charming and as beautiful as she has conjured them into being? Does Brad really love her for her, or if he just under her spell?

Yet when Louise and Brad finally kiss, it's one of the hottest tongue-kissing scenes any 8 year old could ever get her grubby little hands on. Even watching it as a, (gulp!) almost 30 year old, I found my palms sweating. Get a good look at Brad's cut off sleeves? Hot.

While Louise is questioning her choice in blindly accepting her popularity, her odd friend and fellow witch, Madame Zelda is happy to step in to remind her that life is no picnic. She persuades her to consider that you may never know whether people are true in their feelings or not, and to accept this happiness even if it's false. Throughout the third act of the movie, you find yourself almost hoping that Louise will remember who she is and sprint as quickly as she can back to her former nerdy best friend. That surely Louise, being an intelligent and reasonably sensible gal, that she'll come to her senses and reveal the true message: It's best to be honest and true to yourself, for therein lies true happiness, (and all that malarkey).

Tragically, Louise chooses the opposite! She remains steadfast in her honest opposition and happily accepts the unknown. She never makes up with her best friend, she never tells anyone she's tricked them by sorcery, and she remains the most popular girl in school with her beloved Brad by her side.

And what, pray tell, are we as the nerdy underdogs, the fledgling viewers to take away from this message? Get into the dark arts. It's your only way out.

Why 80's Movies Are Scary as F*ck

Ever notice a clear difference in the way we enjoy film from the 80's and the way we enjoy it now? I mean, they just went for it back then. Drugs, sex, cursing, violence... All sense of PC-ness just went out the window.

I can remember watching Arachnophobia in Day Care. (1990, but you can see where I'm going with this.) I watched Weird Science at a Lock-In and even at that young age, I felt like I was doing something naughty. Watching movies from the 80's put some things into perspective about the differences between cinema of the 80's and cinema of today.

1) The Last Dragon: New York City was quite a different place back then. There is a clear lack of kidnapping and wandering into abandoned factories to have Ninja fights that is absent from the New York City we find ourselves in today.

2) Weird Science: High School students create a human from a computer.

3) Dirty Dancing: Illegal cabin abortions and the attempt to earn the respect of your father through the power of dance.

4) Just One of the Guys: Picnicking in abandoned caves at night. Students bringing snakes to school and a coach performing surprise jock strap checks.

5) The Explorers: Middle School students build a rocket ship to another planet and find aliens who enjoy watching television from the 40's.

6) The Peanut Butter Solution: Horrifying.

7) Goonies: A group of boys are chased underground until they find an abandoned pirate ship full of skeletons.

8) Heathers: Everybody dies.

9)Labyrinth: Goblins steal a girl's baby brother and she's forced to befriend trolls and brave the Bog of Eternal Stench while the Goblin King threatens her life. What?

10) Little Monsters: Underground worlds full of monsters lurk under every child's bed.

I don't know how we're all reasonably okay these days.

I Can't Laugh? Fine.

For a few years now, I kept hearing tale of a movie starring Matthew McConaughey that wasn't, (gasp!) riddled in irony. Tiptoes! You've heard it all before, it's that same old story... The classic tale of a man, a woman, a child in utero and the slow yet awkward reveal of his dwarf family. I know what you're thinking. How can this not be riddled in irony?

"When the going gets rough, it's only the size of your heart that counts." Seriously?! We can't laugh at this?

The only reason to watch this movie is for the irony, yet midway through the first act, you quickly realize there is none to be had. This movie has been intended for serious audience members only. And you know what? I'm irate! What age are we living in, that a movie starring McConaughey that has seemingly promised us ironic fodder is only attempting to probe the underbelly of a real issue??

I feel as though this probably started as a cute comedy yet as the writers dug deeper, they realized they didn't want to portray Little People as entertainment. Instead, they cast every working dwarf in Hollywood for completely useless roles to fill out what they hoped would be a central message. Little People are just like us, perhaps? When really, Tiptoes only proves that it's just more shocking to see a little person use to F word over and over again.

I'm not quite sure what the point of, say, Peter Dinklage's character was. Remember Station Agent? That other movie he was in that actually did challenge social stereotypes about dwarfs? Instead, Tiptoes has him pushing that envelope as a French Marxist lover boy, with spunky Patrica Arquette hanging off the back of his motorbike. The point? There is none. How about David Allen Grier and his two-line cameo, one of which taking place as he's caught with his pants down hooking up with Gary Oldman's dwarf girlfriend?

And yes... Gary Oldman is his proclaimed 'role of a lifetime.' The only thing slightly amazing about his role, is wondering how they got him to appear so little next to other actors. Gary Oldman, who played Drexl in True Romance. Gary Oldman, who played Lee Harvey Oswald. Gary Oldman, who played Sid Vicious! And this is his role of a lifetime? C'mon, Tiptoes... just admit it, you're ironic. You have to be ironic.


But no... Again and again, we're faced with heavy scenes that bring up sad issues of a painful childhood in dwarfism. But we're watching these lines come out of Matthew McConaughney's lips and thinking, "Can I laugh at this?" The answer is tragically no.

Supporting characters all seem to fizzle out with no real significance or meaning. All the while, Kate Beckinsale and McConaughney come nowhere near to the resolution you think they'll reach. I don't want to spoil it, but -- Yeah, I'm going to go ahead and spoil it: Beckinsale chooses Oldman in the end. AND THEN THE CREDITS ROLL.

For a movie that keeps telling me not to laugh, all I'm left with is anger over the fact that I can't laugh.

Matthew Broderick: A Parody of Himself

Recently I revisited Edward Zwick's Glory; a depiction of Colonel Robert Shaw's African-American infantry in the Civil War. Watching this film as a child, the only scattered pieces I remembered were Denzel Washington's single tear during his public whipping, a mute drummer boy, Morgan Freeman being awesome, and the appearance of the "As you wish!" guy from Princess Bride. And of course, who could forget the uproarious sing-a-long prayer on the eve of battle? "Oh my Lawd, Lawd, Lawd, Lawd!"

Watching this as an adult, I was able to hold the same appreciation from its 1989 release date. It's still as moving and as heartfelt as I remembered but perhaps with a bit more empathy on my part what with my loosely imparted post-collegiate knowledge of American history. However, there were was one major blip on the radar on an otherwise heartfelt film.

How come I didn't remember what a pansy Matthew Broderick was? I mean, honestly. I have not done any research to prove whether Broderick's portrayal of Colonel Robert Shaw is accurate, but suffice to say had anyone been portraying Broderick in the same role, his African-American infantry would've marched straight into the bottom of a lake.

He pushed an entire group of African-American foot soldiers to carry on, push through the hardships and adversity that other White soldiers in their own war couldn't recognize? What sort of life did Robert Shaw lead before signing on as the man who would lead this group into battle? We know nothing of this man, save the letters he had sent to his mother that Broderick so delicately dictated. By the end of the film, we sense an overwhelming change in Shaw, yet what was the issue he had to face to find himself? We know absolutely nothing.

I suppose I find Broderick's portrayal so humorous because of the sheer... well, humor that he seems to play it with. The scene that best highlights this thought takes place when Broderick storms into the Quatermaster's office and demands supplies that he has been repeatedly denied. "I want 600 pairs of shoes and 1200 pairs of socks... and anything else you've been holding out on us, you piece of rat filth!" He begins 'roughing the place up' and making a lot of noise before calling the Quatermaster an ignorant cuss. With his pencil mustache and his Army-issued cloak, I couldn't help but picture Broderick slapping the Quatermaster in the face with a glove and challenging him to a duel. Perhaps Broderick is channeling the wrong era and is playing Shaw too much like a gentleman.

We are to believe that this man challenged someone has difficult as Denzel Washington's character? Morgan Freeman took orders from him? That "As You Wish!" guy wouldn't question his authority?!

As the film drew to its close, I got teary-eyed watching the men march into their final battle as the White infantry looked on shouting, "Give 'em Hell, '54!" Had Broderick's portrayal been anything but a parody, perhaps I would look more fondly on such a heartfelt and joyful movie. Yet again, perhaps this is what makes me an ignorant cuss.

Away it Went: Too Quirky For its Own Good

I'll be the first to admit that I'm a stereotype. I fall into that category of movie-goers that any romantic comedy box office can prey upon. If a secret list has been drawn up, I'm almost positive that you would find my name on it.

Late twenties female: check.

Requires an awkward, nerdy-hot male lead: check.

Identifies with smart ass, tough female lead: check.

Story attempts to convey the longings and troubles she herself contemplates: check.

Will be likely to buy the soulful, meandering soundtrack: check.

While this checklist works on many levels, the equation can unbalance itself. Take for instance, last summer's release of Away We Go. When I heard Dave Eggers had made the transition from autobiographical novel to autobiographical film, I was the first girl to hit the internet to watch the trailer, read from behind the scenes and wistfully imagine Johnathan Krasinski donning a beard and glasses. Yet when it came time to purchase my movie ticket, something stopped me.

Here I sit, almost a year later and happy that I saved twelve dollars and waited until its release on Netflix. It's not that I didn't enjoy this movie, I enjoyed it a great deal. But there's something not quite right about this story. I know, I know... There's something not quite right about a far fetched plot sending an expectant couple traveling across the US to redefine their family dogma? Whhhaat?

I feel like it's an issue of the story simply being unable decide what it is. You have a mismatched couple, Burt and Verona, who find themselves pregnant. At the same time their family foundation is falling apart when his parents decide to leave the country. When wondering how they're going to recreate this idea of home life, they decide to do a little traveling to see what other families they sort of know are up to and to contemplate their own idea of family.

Two stops in, we meet Verona's sister, who provides us with not-at-all-on-purpose-exposition-back-story on some deeply routed pain over the loss of their parents. Is Verona eventually going to let this out and let Burt in? The suspense is killing me. This is the kind of not so subtle plot device that I tend to take issue with. Instead of defining exactly who you want your character to be, you only give her a problem or a trait to work with. Perhaps if they had cut out one or two story lines, it could have been easier.

I've also never been a fan of multiple story plots. (Love Actually comes to mind). They squeeze in just enough story and just enough characters, that you end up not becoming invested or care about any of them, even the main characters. Instead, I was distracted with the likes of Allison Janney and Jim Gaffigan, (both rank high in my book) and their loud, cursing antics. Then we meet Maggie Gyllenhaal, a free-spirited bare breasted mom, teaching the art of open love making and a ban on strollers. A stop later, we're in Madison, meeting, (who are they again?) a reproductively challenged couple who has taken to adoption and teaches the couple about togetherness. We end our hopscotch with a trip to visit his brother, (my beloved Paul Schneider) whose wife has just left him and his young daughter, leaving them wondering what's next.

I guess my main problem is, is all of this needed? Who are these people? Why do Burt and Verona even care? The story has a decent thing going and there was certainly enough there in principle to see it through. I enjoy a good-hearted story as much as the next person, but was it just me, or was this movie so quirky it was unbelievable? It was like my problem with Rachel Getting Married. You just can't throw in a drum circle, a Brazilian parade and a jazz band at a wedding without some people thinking you've gone too far. Life is weird enough.

By the way, I totally bought the soundtrack.

The Creepiest Math Equation Ever

The results are in. The Curious Case of Benjamin Button is officially the creepiest movie I've ever seen. But let's not give it the respect that a board of critics probably consider due. Let's instead devise a clever math equation so that we may better understand the physics, metaphors and general creepiness that you should actually walk away with after viewing this film.

A=The Metaphorical Clock

The Clock is introduced early on in the movie to serve as a metaphor for the issue of time in reverse. We'll need a constant reminder that time is in reverse, so why not repeatedly show us a clock that literally ticks backwards? Good.

B=Benjamin + Daisy (90yrs - life's experiences + child - life's experiences + clock in reverse)

A man plays a boy who is actually an old man who is growing in reverse. Juxtapose this with a child his age who is growing forward.

C=Experiences (Lack of life experiences x 3.14 x clock in reverse)

Benjamin (age 16 + clock in reverse = 80 yrs) loses his virginity in a brothel only to discover he's a sexual aficionado. Wherein he meets his biological father who'd given him away who as luck would have it, is also a perv, who then gets him drunk for the first time. Take this logic and apply it to the rest of the film and the experiences that would follow.

D=Old Man/Young Man Sex (90yrs - 40 years = Get It While The Gettin's Good)

Aren't we just waiting until Daisy and Benjamin are both the same age so they can finally do it? Good thing we've waited out this math equation, because good news! They do!


E=The Passing of Time (clock in reverse - time + digital age)

Shouldn't there not only be a metaphorical clock but a physical one to help us keep track? Perhaps in the director's cut, they'll have one at the bottom of the screen. Until then, refer to the math equation we've begun. Oddly enough, as the movie ticks on and Benjamin draws closer and younger to death, the reverse clock finally dies. They replace it...with a digital clock.

(Clock in reverse - logic + technology = inevitable rolling of credits)

If this movie didn't come right out and say it was about the decaying and reversal of time, it would just be two beautiful people plus or minus make up who are constantly remarking on how they look next to each other. Kind of like if Brokeback Mountain weren't about repressed homosexuality, it would be an extremely boring film about how two people just couldn't work it out.

Take away from this math what you will. In the end, the values and lessons we attempt to learn were lost on me. Thus proving yet again, that no matter how many metaphors, make up or explosions take place, it's still a ticking clock until Brad Pitt stops talking and starts removing layers of clothing.

A + B / D + (C x E)D = Nothing Amazing

What's the Deal, Ramis?

It's been a long time since I made it a point of seeing a movie on opening night. The vain promise of the next buddy-film Superbad had me chomping at the bit for another harmless hands free comedy. Year One, however, left something to be desired. Strike that, I'll just say it. It was awful.

We follow Zed (Jack Black) and Oh (Michael Cera) on their even-absurd-for-fiction journey through the ancient biblical fables of the desert. One bad hunter and one bad gatherer do not equal comedy gold, unfortunately. To challenge the notion of their useless villager facades, Zed and Oh attempt to rescue their love interests from the clutches of slavery.

The cameos you hoped would float the plot only work against itself. Zed and Oh soon stumble upon Cain and Able. Able (Paul Rudd) is killed off in less than five minutes while Cain (David Cross) is somehow found at every stop along the way providing useless commentary and continually making reference to a joke that died well into the second act.

And yup, you guessed it, that dorky McLovin' appears as a biblical version of that dorky McLovin'. It was, I believe, at this point I began to accept that the movie just wasn't going to get any better. Abraham (Hank Azaria) managed to provide fuel for the only laugh the movie got out of me with a snarky remark regarding circumcision.

One stop at Sodom and Gomorrah later, we've reached the climax of the film. Add a dash of a creepy High Priest, a touch of a hot princess waiting to rule, and the threat of Oh's love interest burning as a virginal sacrafice and you've got a biblical mutiny on your hands.

I won't spoil the ending, but come on...they win.

Perhaps it's unfair to judge the plot of any buddy-comedy. It seems they all tend to work off the same blue prints... Guy loses girl, guy works to get girl back, guy makes hilarious observations along the way while meeting other hilarious acquaintances, guy gets girl. I'm fully satisfied with the way these comedies tend their course. What I'm not satisfied with, is the laziness on the writers behalf.

It begs the question: What's the deal, Ramis? I've waited for your comeback. You gave us Ghostbusters, you gave us Groundhog Day. All this time I've been expecting you to be cooking up the next big comedy. I know Michael Cera and Jack Black are the newest go-to in comedy gems, but you could've stretched your horizons a tad more.

I'll give you the benefit of the doubt, Harold. But next time I want to see less talk more rock.

Oh, To Be 18 and Constantly Alert

This weekend, I gained a lot of insight as to why I'm not 18 anymore. For starters, beer hurts now. Staying awake past 3am: also painful. These days I'm perfectly content to end my nights by midnight in the presence of comfortable pants.

It was only fitting that I sit down to finally watch Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist. I was interested in this movie when it was out in theaters. But one of the drawbacks, (or benefits?) of no longer being a teenager, is the ability to prioritize where my hard earned paychecks go. I learned that lesson when I paid $12 to be completely and dismally let down by last Indiana Jones.

Nick and Norah proved both to be entertaining and thoughtless. If I were 18, I would've been all over this movie. From the heartbreak and immense angst over a relationship that you're not suited for, to the complimentary meandering and sweet nature to be found in an often overlooked counterpart; we can all relate to why being 18 was terrible and wonderful.

I was able to overlook the seemingly ridiculous way in which the pacing of this movie deliciously fell into step. Anytime there was a problem presented, a phone rang immediately with a solution. If you're able to blindly accept the ironic and sweet way the characters took part in an Easter egg hunt around Manhattan, all for separate yet equal hunts, you'll be fine. Lest I forget, this wasn't written for me. It was written for my 18 year old self.

In fact, this exact scenerio was something I'd probably wished would happen to me at 18. A chance to tag along with a dopey yet attractive scraggly-haired male to discuss our favorite music all while he discovered the beauty I was too blind to discover in myself. I think I wrote this and I think Time Travelers have stolen this from me.

I don't know that I'd recommend Nick and Norah to anyone other than a girl who's bent on spending an evening alone, followed by a hefty read-through of an old journal from high school. Regardless, it's had me thinking quite a lot about my inefficiency to churn out stellar mix tapes. An art that I have, tragically, not carried with me into my, (ahem) late twenties.

Basically, Nick and Norah just adds to the already growing number of teenage flicks that prove that the dorky guys really do get the girls in the end. Keep it up, dorks. You're making us old folk look good.

"You Sure Do Kiss Like a Cowboy!"

Last night, we gathered around the television to take part in our newly functioning Bad Movie Night Club. This club is just getting off the ground, with such hits as Silent Night, Deadly Night and Doctor Detroit starring a young Dan Akroyd.

This time around, we went with something slightly more iconic than the norm. I'm assuming we're all aware of the street tough Sylvester Stallone and the triple-threat herself, Dolly Parton? They team up in biggest flop of '84 to create the masterpiece Rhinestone.

Jake Farris (Parton) finds herself desperate to break her music contract with her sleazy club owner, (played by Ron Leibman, best remembered for his role as Rachel Green's dad on Friends.) The owner will do anything to keep his money making songstress in his clutches, until she up's the stakes with a bet. Jake boasts that she can turn anyone, she means anyone, into the next hit country music sensation. If she wins, she gets to break her contract. If she loses, she has to finish out her contract, tack on five extra years of servitude and allow her manager to have his way with her in the sack.

The manager picks out rough and tough cab driver Nick Martinelli (Stallone) as her next protege. As seemingly monolithic as he is and as determined to never step outside of the boundaries of the five boroughs, Nick easily agrees to let Dolly shape him into a country music sensation. What you think would be a simple "Eliza Doolittle gets a cowboy hat" story, it quickly becomes the musical journey of a New York man defending his state's honor by channeling the down home nature of Tennessee state.

This was no simple story. Rhinestone contains layers upon layers of back story, relationship struggles, gender, family ties, loyalty and stereotypes all with musical accompaniment. But the main message I seemed to pick out of this cinemagraphic hodpodge, was the issue of North vs. South. How many stereotypes can these writers, (ahem, including Stallone) make in such a short amount of time? Answer: Quite a few.

From Nick's Italian, speghetti-eating family, ("Papa lov'a da' meat-a-balls!") to Jake's toothless neighbors, we are face to face with a war yet to be settled and only music can pave the resolution. Featuring the hit song, "Stay Outta My Bedroom" and the dark and unsettling gem, "God Won't Get Ya," Dolly really spreads her wings to let us inside.

The film can basically be categorized as having two separate climaxes and lessons. Act 1: Defending the honor of your heritage through the power of music. Act 2: Coping with overnight fame and defending the honor of your lover. As you can imagine, Nick and Jake win at both music and love.

The final interpretation I'll make is this: North and South prove friends as made evidence by the final climax of the film. Stallone dresses as a shimmering silver cowboy and rides a galliant white horse through the streets of Manhattan to reclaim his love. City vs. Country meet in the middle long enough for the heartfelt duet, "Be There;" the perfect blend of what we love about both.

Proving, yet again, that love really does conquer all, Rhinestone will go down in my book as another optimistic jaunt through life. Only this time, Dolly made it look good.

"Where Do You Get Off Having Tits?!"

I couldn't sleep last night and sat up watching Just One of the Guys. I remembered this movie as being one that I had seen a few times with friends from down the street. A wee lass of seven viewing this movie while playing with Barbies and contemplating the complexities of gender roles and the coming of age. Suffice to say my seven year old brain couldn't wrap itself around these concepts. Not to mention the fact that there were a pair of breasts involved. "Did she just show her boobies?" Yes, she really did just show her boobies.

Somewhere around two in the morning last night it dawned on me how incredibly backwards this movie really was. Just One of the Guys bit off more than it could chew when the main character finds herself as the subject of sexism from her high school journalism teacher. Sexism in the 80's? The only way to solve this problem is to dress in drag. Am I right, ladies?

Terry Griffith, (first of all, Terry?) decides to write a winning article by using herself as the subject matter, testing her theory on the treatment of boys and girls. I'd like to pause here a moment and point out Terry's transformation into a boy. They made her into the most stylish, homosexual dude that ever drove a white convertible. The only tip she received from her sex-on-the-brain little brother was this: "Itch your balls a lot." With only that knowledge and a bad haircut, Terry decides she's ready to test her skills as a boy in another high school. Here is where the ridiculousness truly begins.

I think the writers, (yes, two men) took everything they knew about women, especially younger women, and shoved them into a 90 minute screenplay. No matter what Terry did, her feminine side just kept showing itself. Overhearing the high school's popular girl Deborah loudly complaining about the missing back to her earring, Terry couldn't help but bless her with her crafty tip. This happens several times and Terry keeps catching herself commenting on girls' shoes, bringing Rick Morehouse lunch and helping him jazz up his wardrobe to score a date for the Prom. It's true...girls are great at cooking, dressing and helping their secret gay crush find a new style.

Now onto Rick Morehouse. I honestly wish this guy had gone on to make things someone on the planet has actually seen. He was a fox. He was the 80's version of the 90's Ethan Embry...the quiet nerd who has a random and amazing interest. Rick's love for James Brown matched Ethan Embry's love for Kurt Vonnegut. When are we going to realize that the guys who are into James Brown and Kurt Vonnegut do not get the hot girl of the school? What in the world were they thinking when they made Can't Hardly Wait and had breathy Jennifer Love Hewitt and her stupid angel t-shirt and platforms chase down Ethan Embry to profess her mutual crush? Ridiculous. I digress. Rick Morehouse... foxy nerd who loves James Brown. How Rick never caught on to the fact that Terry was either a flaming homosexual or that Terry was in fact a stylish girl dressed up as a stylish and petite guy...well, I just don't know. Maybe he's a really stupid foxy nerd.

The movie throws stereotype after stereotype of gender roles in your face. Greg Tolan played by William Zabka for example. (That's right, the jerk from Karate Kid.) He plays another jerk in Just One of the Guys by beating up on high school freshmen and dumping cafeteria tables onto the floor for fun. He also has an entourage of equally ridiculous homoerotic jocks who follow him around the whole movie taking work-out tips from Greg. Keep in mind that Terry is going around handing out fashion advice. Men and women...they just can't help themselves.

They also had Terry offer up the only stereotypes she knew about males. When Rick invites Terry in, Terry exclaims, "Well I was going to go tune up my car and play some football, but uh...I've got time." Once inside, Rick offers Terry a beer to which Terry answers, "Sure, I'll take a brewski." The writers not only generalized their characters, but they made their characters generalize themselves. Even up until the point where Buddy the younger brother, sad from another female rejection, sits and eats chocolates to console himself.

Terry is revealed, of course, as being a girl. This happens in possibly one of the most memorable scenes of the movie. Well, thought the directors, we've got to have her show off her boobs. And show off her boobs she did. It was that pivotal scene at the Prom, when the moment was finally right for Terry to reveal her womanhood secret to Rick. She does this by whipping open her tux to reveal her perfect un-brassiered breasts. "Where do you get off having tits?!" was Rick's reaction. Well, thought the world, she gets off having tits just fine. Ridiculous!


Rick comes to his senses and goes back to tell Terry that being a girl is just fine. Not only that, but that he misses him, err her, oh whatever. They start to leave and Rick hits the final nail on the coffin with, "As long as I can drive." Whatever Terry's article worked to prove failed miserably as she drove off into the sunset with Rick Morehouse behind the wheel, her dumb doily-like dress blowing in the wind. If only she had taken the reigns of this situation, it would've been a completely different film.