“From the writer of THE DEVIL’S BACKBONE” comes BLIND ALLEY a surprisingly decent movie about a hot chick trapped in fucking laundry-mat, of all things, that totally goes batshit weird in the third act and renders what came before pointless and leaves the viewer going “WHAT THE FUCK? What just happened here??” and then it’s over, kind of like the first time a guy ever has sex. “OK, come here,” says the chick. *inserts* “Wow this feels really good,” thinks the dude. “Wow I -” SPLURT!!!! “That’s it??” asks the chick “What the fuck just happened here??” “I, uh…” says the dude. “I didn’t know any better…” he stammers and then gets broken up with three days later, breaking his fucking teenage heart. I don’t know where that story came from because that never happened to me but here we are, talking about BLIND ALLEY and I’m sitting in Texas drinking strong beer so who knows what’s going to happen but I have a feeling there’s going to be major spoilers later so here we go!
So we open up with some hot Spanish (she’s actually Cuban) (at least in the movie) doing some sort of weird 60s Go-Go dance over the credits and it turns out it’s some sort of film-shoot-test and then she’s off being a house cleaner and getting yelled at and then we cut to two bloody, dead bodies lying on the ground somewhere. One of the bodies gets dragged off, leaving a trail of bloody slime behind her and – the other one gets up!! She’s not dead!!! SHIT!!!! Meanwhile, pretty Cuban gets off work and heads home and talks on her cell phone to some female you think is probably her lover but it’s her sister and she gets a call and it’s the film shoot people (I just typed popple) (ha!) and they liked her audition so she’s due to come in first thing in the morning but her outfit is somehow filthy and her laundry machine is conveniently broken so she heads to the filthiest laundry-mat in the city. Soon she’s approached by a creepy, giant dude and he comes out harmless and then a pretty boy comes in to wash his clothes and she’s really into him so she takes some sort of quaalude for no apparent reason that comes around later to be important and then he’s trying to kill her.
I want to stop here for a second and reflect on a couple of things. Between where I live and Dallas, TX there’s a long stretch of highway that people refer to as “Horse Country” because there’s seemingly 75,000 stables for reproducing, training and selling horses. Well, on the way here earlier, we passed one and MRS THE IPC says “Hey look!! A baby!!” and I turn over to see and sure enough, I see a little baby horse over there suckling on it’s momma’s teat and I think to myself, “Do horses have tits???” and I look it up and sure enough they do. That’s not something I have ever thought about in 42 years of life. HORSE TITS??? WHAT??? GO FUCKING FIGURE….
Be careful – this next one is a poop story, so I understand if you clear out of this paragraph. But – you know – I’m in pretty good health, such as it is, and I eat pretty good considering I ate cold soup out of a can for a dozen years until MRS IPC came around and saved my life and I stopped eating brownies and cookies for breakfast, cold soup for lunch and then a pizza for dinner. Anyways, now I eat healthy and today I had some plums for breakfast and then packed up and we headed out and stopped to get gas and I was all “I’ll just get something to eat here” so I got an old delicacy – a gas station hot dog and slathered it up with mustard and onions and we headed off. Eventually we passed the horses above and rolled into Dallas and picked up one of MRS IPC’s friends and went out and had a fancy, expensive dinner. Later, we got to the hotel and got to bed and we were watching Seinfeld and suddenly, as if I had eaten a Quaalude, my stomach fucking emulsified and I – well – you know how that goes. Lying there dying, being a problem solver kind of guy, I reasoned: a man should never eat a gas station hot dog and I need to go add it to this list of rules.
“WHAT DOES THAT HAVE TO FUCKING DO WITH ANYTHING AND WHY DO YOU TORMENT US ISAACS???” You scream, preparing to throw shit at me. Well, this movie had been going OK and the guy had been kind of scared off and they introduced a new character and she was kind of hot and then – THEN!! – all of a sudden they turn into some kind of bullshit CGI-faced demon vampires???????? HUH??? WHAAAAAAAA?? And then the giant creepy bastard is back so the chick vampire starts fighting him and the dude demon vampire bites the Go-Go dancer and corners her in a toilet but he’s now got quaalude in him from her blood so he’s all sick and shit. Elsewhere in the laundry-mat, demon vampire lady kills creepy giant but they slip in his blood and she cracks her head on the corner of a dryer and she’s dead.
So then, if this hadn’t gotten bad enough, sick, demon vampire dude sees his dead demon vampire lover lying dead and he goes over there, kisses her dead lips and then the movie turns into some sort of gothic vampire flashback love story complete with shitty harps and flutes and what the hell??? And then, to make matters worse, after the love story is over and demon vampire lover boy who had been killing people all night is so sad he walks out into the sun and melts himself. Or is that “Melts hisself” down here in Texas?
HUH? I think this movie had a lot of promise and good things going for it until they turned into demon vampires. Screw it!! I expected MUCH more from the writer of the wonderful THE DEVIL’S BACKBONE. PFFT.
On a side note, you all know that CINEMA PARROT DISCO is running a month long blogathon of John Hughes movies I’ve never seen over on her site and, if you were curious to see what I thought about THE BREAKFAST CLUB, you could do so by clicking anywhere in this paragraph! And no, I didn’t love it.