While it starts out in the same place as other punk classics such as Suburbia (1983), its light tone and attempt at life affirming moments help the film meld into a slightly morbid buddy road comedy. The punk aspect never leaves, but it feels a lot different sans the surroundings and nihilism. The hybrid tone achieves a unique but somehow familiar flavor that doesn't ever really stick to any one style for very long. This is my favorite aspect of the film, it never decides because it doesn't have to. The well used scenery of the Arizona-Utah desert contrasts against the Hollywood style punk rock get-ups to help build the fish out of water motif.

The story benefits from its simple structure, enhanced by somewhat random elements. It follows a familiar path set down by other road comedies , even at some times borrowing slightly from “ highway horror ” flicks like Road Games (1981). A big part of the films plot revolves around a death but it never quite reaches a dire tone, opting instead for mostly angst lined optimism. Unless the story calls for consequence, fights are taken lightly as the two remaining characters come out on top of fights by bouncing around like the Drunken Master in a circle pit. Characters are entertainingly odd, but definitely play off a lot of used cliches and it gets a little cringe inducing when Native Americans are brought up. Camera direction and lighting all work with a little of the late 80s fun obsession with pink glow. Dialogue is goofy but no where near the ever quotable writing of the much less polished, Suburbia (1983). It's more flushed out, in line with the comedic timing of mainstream film making of that era. It moves at an upbeat but dry pace and gets a few subtle jokes in, that work well in the long term.

While it can be enjoyed with the same crowd that may also sit through a viewing of the first Vacation (1983) and it doesn't have the grit of Spheeris ’s previous punk films, it's less likely to send your local 13 year punk elitist into a frenzy, then a film like SLC Punk! (1998). If they still give you shit, even after you show them your copy of Bedtime for Democracy on vinyl for cred, drop their ass off in a culturally stunted Southern Utah town to show them how lucky they had it. Plus it's easy to be punk-as-fuck when the church is still out here burning KISS records.

1h 30min | 1987





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