Rabu, 18 Mei 2011
Jeff Kwitny - Iced (1988)
Bleeding Skull wrote:
I've never snorted cocaine. I have seen Bright Lights, Big City, though. That pretty much makes me an expert. Therefore, I suspect that a large amount of cocaine was present during the writing, shooting, and editing of Iced. It's just that good.
What happens when you lose a late-nite, downhill ski race, then find your girlfriend fooling around with the guy that beat you? You got it! After screaming "YOU FUCKERS!" and grabbing some skis, you hit the slopes and kill yourself on a big soft rock. Or do you?
Four years later. After his apparent suicide, Jeff's "friends" are still shook up about it. So shook up, in fact, that they can't resist the pull of a free weekend at Snow Peak Resorts. Trina, the cheater, is now married to Mr. Cheater. She also has a nice shirt that sports an Alligator with a guitar and the phrase "Rockadiles!" in spray paint letters. Karl, the coked-up train wreck, shows off the world's smallest ponytail. Jeanette (Ms. Lisa Loring, Wednesday from The Adams Family and last seen in 1987's Blood Frenzy) has enormous hair and fantasizes about Alex, the real estate agent (writer Joseph Alan Johnson, who also ripped it up in Berserker). Dry ice. Enigmatic outfit changes. Kitchen workout routines. But wait! Who's that inconspicuous killer, clad in a neon blue snowsuit and vintage moon boots?! You're gonna love finding out.
From the opening late 80s crap-pop to the terribly brilliant freeze frame ending, Iced is a force to be reckoned with. Since nothing much happens during the first hour, we're granted free reign to mingle. Consider it a privilege. Director Jeff Kwitny (Beyond The Door III) has assembled a choppy, asinine parade fit for a king, filled with utter morons and mismatched occurrences. Telephoning for dire help or ordering a pizza? Licking coke before or after drying off following a shower? Showing lots of pubes during sex or just a few? Revealing your wooden leg or waiting until someone stabs it? That's how it goes. The sex is explicit, the gore is laughable, and everyone, I mean everyone, wears moon boots. We've got the close-ups to prove it.
After all that, I'm sure your head (or nose) is swimming. Just remember, there's nothing like removing a sensual racquetball headband before making love. Lisa Loring knows it. Now, so do you.