Only now does it occur to me... BACK TO THE FUTURE PART III (1990)

Only now does it occur to me... that Robert Zemeckis, in his infinite wisdom, decided to include an oddly specific homage to the comedy BLIND DATE (1987) in his BACK TO THE FUTURE PART III (1990).  Since the average movie viewer today is more likely to have seen the concluding chapter of the BACK TO THE FUTURE trilogy than Blake Edwards' BLIND DATE, a film best described "as if Scorsese's AFTER HOURS slipped on a banana peel while Bruce Willis played a slide whistle," allow me to explain.

Early on in BACK TO THE FUTURE III, Marty McFly (Michael J. Fox), having traveled to 1885, is attempting to blend in at the local saloon

when Buford "Mad Dog" Tannen (Thomas F. Wilson) comes to harass him in a Biff-inspired scene which should seem quite familiar to fans of the series.

 After giving his name as "Clint Eastwood," Marty innocently refers to Buford as "Mad Dog," which induces his fury.

Commanding him to dance, Buford shoots at Marty's feet... and Marty proceeds to do the "moonwalk."







He then shouts "Whooo!" in the manner of Michael Jackson and kicks a full spittoon onto Mad Dog.


This leads to a chase sequence. End scene.


In BLIND DATE, Bruce Willis' character has been set up on the titular blind date with Kim Basinger,

which triggers a series of unlucky and harrowing events (he's fired from his job, has his car destroyed, and begins suffering a full psychotic break, for instance). Basinger is also being stalked by her ex, John Larroquette, who carelessly menaces and nearly kills Willis with his car. Later on, a worse-for-wear Willis encounters his new nemesis Larroquette and begins brawling with him.


 When Willis lays his hands on a mugger's gun,

he holds Larroquette at gunpoint and insists that he dance.

 When the dance is not to Willis' liking, he insists he moonwalk.


Larroquette proceeds to moonwalk. However, it was a insincere request, as Willis soon announces, "I hate that shit!" and begins firing at his feet.

Shortly thereafter, Willis is arrested, leading to the iconic "BLIND DATE mugshot" sequence.

And end scene.

Okay. So. There's little doubt that these scenes of comedic violence are interconnected, and the connection is so specific that I have to imagine Zemeckis intended for his scene to be an homage to BLIND DATE. Or, perhaps, he saw BLIND DATE, and though he tried to forget it––a feat many BLIND DATE viewers have attempted––he felt some ineffable connection between the moonwalk and being held at gunpoint and inserted it into his film via sheer BLIND DATE-osmosis. I wonder if this is something they discussed when Zemeckis directed Bruce Willis in DEATH BECOMES HER. Or if this led to the John Larroquette cameo in the Zemeckis-produced TALES FROM THE CRYPT: DEMON KNIGHT.

Also, if we want to get really "out there," note that the poster/cover art for BLIND DATE bears an eerie similarity to 1988's ACTION JACKSON––a film that co-starred Thomas F. Wilson, a.k.a. "Biff/Buford Tannen" from the BACK TO THE FUTURE trilogy.

Only one thing seems clear: truly, all roads lead back to BLIND DATE, whether we like it or not.

Only now does it occur to me... INNERSPACE (1987)

Only now does it occur to me... that I would ever see character-acting legend and scene-stealing nutball Robert Picardo (TOTAL RECALL, THE WONDER YEARS) busting such savagely hip and creepy dance moves, and all in service of seducing America's Sweetheart, Meg Ryan!





Note: "The Invisible Lasso," an essential move in Picardo's dance arsenal.

I saw INNERSPACE on television as a child, and for whatever reason I did not remember much, beyond it being a comedic 1980s update of FANTASTIC VOYAGE wherein an experimental pilot (Dennis Quaid) is miniaturized and accidentally injected into the bloodstream of a hypochondriac (Martin Short).



Dennis Quaid embarks on his 'fantastic voyage' while eating a JELL-O pudding snack and doing some kind of Jack Nicholson/Harrison Ford pastiche.

Upon revisiting, I cannot emphasize enough how anarchic and bizarre a movie INNERSPACE is. Robert Picardo is just the tip of the iceberg––though I must admit that in his minor role as a silky-smooth international smuggler named "The Cowboy," he does his darnedest to steal the entire movie. Whether "Travis Bickling" with a blow dryer:

putting the moves on Meg Ryan:

 

wearing a Speedo and blasting a champagne cork at Martin Short:

or being kidnapped and impersonated by a rubberized (through science-fictioney means) Martin Short:



I guess I'm trying to tell you that it's a live action Looney Tunes episode, a relentless slice of sci-fi mayhem, and a work of good-natured batshittery. In other words, it's a Joe Dante film!

BEHOLD: A villainous henchman (Vernon Wells, "Bennett" from COMMANDO!) with more cyborg arm-appendage weapons than Chuck Connors in 99 AND 44/100% DEAD and "Doctor Claw" from INSPECTOR GADGET combined!


EXPERIENCE: Fiona Lewis (THE FURY, STRANGE INVADERS) as perhaps the most lascivious corporate scientist of all time!


ENJOY: Kevin McCarthy (INVASION OF THE BODY SNATCHERS) as a criminal mastermind with impeccable interior (and personal) design!


FIND CATHARSIS IN: Lewis and McCarthy shrunk to the size of children (or we could say "Good Guy Doll"-size) and handling absurdly-proportioned props!



GAZE UPON: 1980s New Wave nuttery and other optical illusions!


SEE: More terrifying rubbery faces than TOTAL RECALL!




WITNESS: A tearful Meg Ryan cab ride, made possible by none other than "That Guy" legend, Dick Miller!


LOOK AT: A Rance Howard cameo! Just look at it!

 
CONTEMPLATE: A world where Henry Gibson is your bitchy-but-well-meaning supermarket boss!


BE FACED WITH UNSETTLING MELANCHOLY: When the scientist who injects Martin Short (John Hora, Dante's cinematographer) is shot and killed at a mall by Vernon Wells' robo-assassin. As the life flows out of him, he is confronted with the startling image of mall mascots coming to his aid.


He fades and dies, scared and confused. This is probably a good example of what I mean when I say this film is anarchic––but it is emotionally grounded, unlike much of the contemporary absurdist comedy, where many jokes rely upon randomness or anti-humor for their effect. There is an order to this film––a cartoon-logic, if you will––but its anarchy supports the story (also see: PEE-WEE'S BIG ADVENTURE, GREMLINS 2: THE NEW BATCH, WILLY WONKA & THE CHOCOLATE FACTORY, et al.), and it's nothing if not well earned.

I feel as if I've barely scratched the surface of this strange beast. Now, go forth, and rent INNERSPACE!

––Sean Gill