Cruel, Cruel Summer: On Robert Altman's Criminally Underseen O.C. and Stiggs (1987)
I believe that the trailer-watching experience in the year of our lord 2025 is a horror show. Coming attractions are either tonally baffling or vomit out the entire plot before you have a chance to choke down your Snow Caps. It isn't an enigma as to why this is the current state of film (Spoiler alert: It's the thick, veiny cock of capitalism leaving us all bow-legged in its wake). Things have to be focus-tested to death, because risk is not something the corporations that control Hollywood tolerate. If a movie isn't tonally appealing when its first trailer comes out, you can be assured the next trailer will attempt to rearrange elements for maximum meme-ability (I'll take a Robocop dystopia over having to write the word meme-ability again). The only thing I'm certain won't change is the overuse of low-quality CGI that our slack-jawed populace seems to have thoroughly accepted as okay. Stan Winston is spinning in his grave. That's why my hypothetical cinematic masterpiece would make no concessions. The title of this art you ask? Fartsuckers!
Chainsaw and Dave. Bill and Ted. Wayne and Garth. The shit boy perverts from Weird Science. In their footsteps, Brian Farkovski and Tony Sachs enter the fray. Imagine if the ghoulies from Ghoulies III: Ghoulies Go to College loved thrash metal and malt liquor, then make them human. The two idiots are college freshmen at Psychotronic University, reviled by their fellow class who have given them the nickname, "The Fartsuckers." Is this a consequence of a fart-related accident or a pejorative joke based off their last names? The movie will never tell you. The two are given a typically inane final exam project for their Sociology 101 class: What would it be like to spend a day with the worst person in history? Our boys are both dangerously close to a GPA rivaling Belushi from Animal House, and must rally all their wits to pass the final or risk failing the entire semester.
Thankfully Farkovski has been semi-successfully studying black magic while Sachs has a mind for quantum physics. After stealing a copy of a summoning grimoire from their school library, Sachs is able to harness its power via a device that is pretty much a time machine made out of a porta potty (See, it's like Bill & Ted but way dumber). Our heroic duo proceed to conjure the figures they think best represent the worst of humanity thus far: H.P. Lovecraft, Aleister Crowley, Rasputin and GG Allin. What follows is these bastards of history reckoning with a modern world. Lovecraft can't stifle his racism and is shot dead, Crowley creates chaos at a gay bar and Rasputin contemplates suicide after abject failure in the dating scene. GG Allin is never seen on screen but is implied to be present: Every time he's mentioned our duo lift up a piece of plexiglass to deflect a barrage of human feces that's being hurled at them. The entire experiment is a disaster that ends with Farkovski, Sachs and their collection of time-traveling assholes in front of the class aping the end scene of Revenge of The Nerds but the song is Mr. Crowley. This earns them failing grades. Adding insult to injury the entire debacle turns out to be the death dream of the two degenerates. Unfortunately their hastily cobbled fusion of magic and technology exploded, vaporizing them in the basement of Farkovski's parents house. Credits roll over an aerial shot as the fire department arrives at the burning ranch house. Eat your heart out Friedkin!
In 1983 the man behind The Long Goodbye directed a boner comedy. The production involved an open bar at a hotel, strategic proximity to a racetrack for ease of gambling and plentiful drug abuse. The final product was reviled by both its writers and producers who Altman had banned from set, and referred to as "The enemy." That final product, is a little film called O.C. and Stiggs. Time has favored Altman in two ways: 1. The suits are, and always will be the enemy 2. OC and Stiggs fucks.
The origin of O.C. and Stiggs was a series of stories courtesy of National Lampoon's Magazine. By the eighties, The Lampoon was a husk of its anti-establishment origins. The source material for the movie is sadly no exception, involved two vindictive teenagers committing all matter of chaos for their own satisfaction. In and of itself, such a concept is a betrayal of what early National Lampoon represented. Both Caddyshack and Animal House feature a rogues gallery of degenerates. However, they were underdog degenerates, creating bedlam with a purpose: Slobs vs snobs. Humiliation and destruction of holier than thou yuppie bullshit is a cornerstone of madcap comedy. At a time when Reagan was sucking down jelly beans while ruining our country, what we needed most was, to quote counter-culture warrior Vyvyan Bastard, "A very special blend of psychology and extreme violence." We needed a big fucking fist to punch up into the taint of our actor president and his nightmarish regime. Altman has a hell of an uppercut.
O.C. and Stiggs don't have plans for the summer. What they have is a strategy. The duo are going to ruin the lives of The Schwabs. The entire family is a yuppie slurry of racism, privilege and apathy. The patriarch, Randall, is a Reaganomics-era ghoul (Obviously some heavy proto-MAGA elements here) of an insurance salesman whose actions are going to result in O.C.'s eccentric, but kindly grandfather losing his house. Their retaliation is multi-faceted and diabolical. From goading fail son Randall Jr. into firing an Uzi (Obtained from an unhinged Vietnam vet played by Dennis Hopper) at his sister's wedding, to turning the Schwab mansion into a homeless shelter, the only limit is their ingenuity. In between all this O.C. finds love, the duo visit Mexico, and we get to see a performance by King Sunny Adé.
In other hands O.C. and Stiggs would be a problematic mess. However, Altman understood that the crux of the film should be blatant disdain towards the garish, consumerist ideologies personified by The Schwabs. O.C. and Stiggs are the Blues Brothers if they listened to Oingo Boingo instead of Fats Domino. That their friends are the homeless, minorities and discarded veterans further positions them as enemies of the status quo. They are also still young assholes, and Altman does not let their shitty behavior fly. A scene where they call out two faculty members for their gay relationship is met by acknowledgment without shame. In the gay-panic loving eighties, this is a very important moment. Altman is telling us that no matter how enlightened these boys are, they still have more to learn.
Lets not forget this is an Altman joint and that means it comes with all his brilliant idiosyncrasy. There's no framing to focus on visual gags, or so we can clearly see who is delivering dialogue. Instead, things transpire through slow pans or via languid, voyeuristic zooms. The barrage of jokes is constant, the dialogue overflowing with them to the point where one watch would never allow someone to capture every exchange. In the end, I can say with confidence I've never seen a movie like this before and I'm not sure I ever will again. Thank Satan for the underdog.
-Dr. Benny Graves
