Misunderstood Masterpieces: D.C. Cab

Posted by Will Helm on 01.24.2006

…or, A Cast and Crew Unlike Any Other

As I mentioned last week, we kick off a trilogy of car-themed comedies and, to start it off, I have a film that I always knew was "good," but got so much better after watching the opening credits.

This week's entry into the hallowed halls of Misunderstood Masterpieces is a jaunty little clichéd comedy from 1983 titled D.C. Cab. Initially, my reason for inclusion in the anthology of this column was pretty much because it may be the only place you can find Gary Busey and Mr. T coexisting. Of course, after watching the opening credits, I learned so much more about this film, making it one of the greatest Misunderstood Masterpieces by cast and crew alone. Why? Well, to start, it was executive produced by the wonder-duo of Jon Peters and Peter Guber. Guber, for the most part, is just a man linked with Peters, but Peters – for all you Kevin Smith aficionados – is the other end of Smith's legendary development of the failed Superman movie. Yes, the "Superman is from the ‘hood" guy.

In addition, D.C. Cab features one of the most bizarre and eclectic casts around, especially with the last twenty-three years of retrospect. Our lead character for this picture is played by, shockingly, a VERY young Adam Baldwin or, for you Firefly and Serenity fans, the man called Jayne. Of course, we do have the aforementioned Busey and Mr. T, but there are also the added bonuses of actors such as Paul Rodriguez – lauded ethnic comedian and now father to a professional skateboarder – and an also VERY young . . . Bill Maher. Before Politically Incorrect, before Real Time, before his terrible stand-up act, he had D.C. Cab. Unbelievable. Then again, that didn't prepare me for the shock of discovering the name of this film's co-writer/director: Joel Schumacher. The man that brought us the failures of Batman Forever, Batman and Robin, and the utterly disappointing The Phantom of the Opera is the man behind D.C. Cab – no pun intended. With a cast and crew like this, dear readers, how could D.C. Cab – be anything but a Misunderstood Masterpiece?

Under a starry night sky, a junked taxi drives down the street; inside, some guy in a very creepy mask is driving . . . and smoking. I do hope that mask is fire-retardant, otherwise that could become one hot ride, so to speak. The guy in the creepy mask, for reasons unbeknownst to us, chases another taxi, driven by an "urban" young man with curlers in his hair who, as we later will learn, is named Tyrone (Charlie Barnett). Tyrone, for some reason, drives into a dead end, where he's then cornered by a veritable army of taxi-driving, mask-wearing zombies. Tyrone, unlike anyone ever chased by zombies, actually outsmarts his pursuers – and, shockingly, outruns them . . . which I don't understand why people don't do that all the time; zombies are notoriously slow – and he jumps back into his cab and spirits away while playing the Mission: Impossible theme song on his tape deck. The old, good one . . . not the The Edge one. Hmm . . . I always wondered about that: is he "The Edge" or "the ‘The Edge'" in that context?

The next day, Mr. T, proving he has morals over business skills, throws an old businessman and a hooker out of the back of his cab. Either that, or he didn't feel like taking time to clean up afterward. Mr. T pities sticky cab seats. Elsewhere, some country boy (Baldwin) wanders around the town aimlessly; along the way, he asks a Rastafarian member of the D.C. Cab company for directions but he doesn't receive any. At the White House, in a shocking bit of coincidence, D.C. Cab-driver Bill (Maher . . . yes, his character's name is "Bill"; da-doo-run-run-run da-doo-run-run) directs a protest before hopping back into his hack. Meanwhile, in a swanky part of town, well-dressed Xavier (Rodriguez) waits in a hotel lounge and watches as some HOT CHICK leaves to hail a cab; he does the honors for her but, after revealing himself as the driver, she bugs out before he can get his swerve on. Literally or figuratively. Finally, two giant D.C. Cab drivers (Peter and David Barbarian), after suffering some harassment, take out their frustrations on an ignorant truck driver.

After a seeming eternity of wandering around, the hapless country boy finally arrives at D.C. Cab headquarters where he's accosted by some weird, old, philosophy-spouting bum (Whitman Mayo). After paying off the old dude, the country boy, named Albert, meets up with an old acquaintance of his father, Harold (Max Gail), an aging hippie who seems to either work as a mechanic or run the D.C. Cab Company. In another room of the office, crazy Gary Busey – is there any other kind of Busey? – sexually harasses the flummoxed dispatcher (Anne De Salvo); before any other hijinks can break out, however, some uppity guy in a suit (José Pérez) shows up to cause trouble in the name of the District of Columbia. Mr. T, standing up for his colleagues, sticks it to the man, so the uppity guy accidentally backs into a Chinese restaurant window for no particular reason. I guess hilarity was meant to ensue.

Later that evening, Albert the country boy moves in with Harold and the whiny dispatcher because, as we learn through the helpful expository dialogue, that Albert's father and Harold were Army buddies and Albert went up to D.C. from Georgia to find his fortune after his father's untimely death. Hmm . . . this is heavy stuff for 1983. We also discover, through dialogue, that Harold is a regretful hippie, but he does have a working flamethrower for his own delight. Something tells me that whole plot point can't turn out well. It's just a hunch. It seems, ALSO through the dialogue, that Albert is an aspiring cabbie; well, at least he didn't say he wanted to be a junkie when he grew up. It's a start, I suppose.

The next day, young neophyte Albert rides along with Xavier, who reveals – shockingly – that, in addition to driving a taxi, he's also a gigolo. I guess Xavier doesn't pity sticky cab seats, then. Then again, he may have found an ingenious way of washing his seats as he, over the course of his fare and the conversation with Albert, terrorizes his present passengers. Well, it may not be pretty – or smell good – but it probably works. Later, Albert discovers that crazy Gary Busey is, indeed, crazy . . . as well as a bizarre racist and conspiracy theorist who plans on siding with the militant blacks when the revolution comes. Oh that wacky Busey! Anyway, while Busey and Albert ride together, they pick up a frizzy-haired woman who strips on the way to her destination because she works in a topless bar. Unfortunately for Busey and young Albert, she skips out on the fare, so Albert goes into the bar to collect but gets forcibly ejected for his troubles. Busey, since he's crazy, goes in after Albert's exile and he successfully gains the money . . . and the woman's thong, to which the money was attached. I guess that's another souvenir for the Busey collection.

During his ride with the giant cabbies – whose car only drives backwards – Albert is delighted to hear a plethora of grisly accident stories for no particular reason. I have to admit, honestly, that I do admire these "getting to know the characters" moments; those are points so lacking in today's films. Now, whether that's a good thing or a bad thing remains to be seen. Anyway, Albert finally ends up with Mr. T, who wisely takes the naïve white boy into the ghetto, where Mr. T insults a local pimp and then he picks up his niece and drives her to school. Oh yeah . . . Albert's going to be dead by the end of the movie. After delivering his niece at her school, Mr. T drops some philosophy on Albert, since I guess our mohawk-wearing friend is the likable moral center of the movie. He pities ignorance and iniquity.

That night, in preparation for Albert's licensing exam, Harold quizzes Albert on D.C. geography and then beats his young charge over the head with a rubber hammer when he's wrong. I don't know much about psychology, so I don't know whether Pavlov or B.F. Skinner would be proud. Anyway, the whiny receptionist – who also happens to be Harold's wife – comes in an complains about the fact that there's not any beer in the house and how she needs her beer to be able to watch Johnny Carson – obviously an overt indictment of Carson's comedy stylings – so Harold breaks off the study session so that he can buy beer to satisfy his harpy of a wife. Why do I get the feeling one of them is going to die by flamethrower by the film's end?

On the next morning, Albert, much to his credit, passes his driver's exam and, to celebrate he asks to ride with the Rastafarian driver (DeWayne Jessie) who, as it turns out, isn't from Jamaica at all, but Cleveland, Ohio. I've heard that town rocks. Meanwhile, D.C. Cab's best driver, Ophelia (Marsha Warfield) threatens to quit due to repeated muggings; happily, she doesn't threaten to throw herself into a river over it. Honestly people . . . you knew that joke was coming. That night, crazy Gary Busey takes Albert around the town and he shares his own personal (lunatic) wisdom along the way before terrorizing some hookers for no apparent reason. Maybe he's the militant yin to Mr. T's pacifistic yang.

Anyway, most of the D.C. Cab gang – once again, no relation to Scooby or Kool and the – ends up at a male revue where, after the club closes, certain select members of the crew dance on their cars for the excited female patrons. After a few moments of chaos, the cabs are filled to the brim with aroused women and Albert is left on the street to fend for himself. Luckily for him, his boots are made for walking, so he does just that and ends up back at D.C. Cab headquarters, where he has a run-in with aspiring musician Bill. Bill, at his maudlin best, confesses himself to be a man afraid, not of the FCC or skittish network executives, but of ennui. That's profound, man . . . really profound. Now give us some of your "New Rules." I love that shtick.

The next morning, at the local cabbie diner, the men – and women – of D.C. Cab eat some breakfast and Busey harasses the whiny dispatcher a little more. Meanwhile, Albert, since he's young, virile, and naïve, makes eyes with a HOT CHICK waitress (Jill Schoelen). It's all well and good – and a dream sequence – until the HOT CHICK's matronly grandmother steps in to break up the fun. Well, it's a good thing Albert didn't have a dream sequence about her too; that would've been uncomfortable. Things take a turn for the even more uncomfortable as a few representative of the local rival cab company show up to cause some trouble . . . and then the uppity guy from earlier in the picture arrives to say something about a missing expensive violin. Meanwhile, Mr. T, our moral center, forcibly removes his young niece from the purview of the local pimp. Wow . . . is it just me or was a lot of stuff was going on in that scene?

Later that day, Albert finally gets a chance to ride with Tyrone, who – in lieu of doing actual work – takes his family to work at a local private school. Sadly, perhaps in a commentary of the state of affairs of minorities in early ‘80s urban centers, Tyrone's relatives aren't teachers. From the school, Tyrone and Albert then head over to the airport, where Tyrone attempts to fool a drunkard into paying for a ride of two feet, but Albert interjects himself to keep Tyrone honest. Yup . . . he's young and naïve and he'll surely be dead by the end of the movie. Or perhaps sooner as, after Albert's altruistic deed, Tyrone has a breakdown where he reveals that's he's not crazy, he just plays that way to hide the fact that he's a college graduate with no job prospects in his chosen field. Hmm . . . I bet the "man" is keeping him down. It's just a hunch. Tyrone, fed up with Albert's whiteness – or innocence – throws him out of the car, but it's really all for naught as Tyrone later relents and picks up Albert off the street.

That evening, Tyrone, still with Albert by his side, tells his young pupil just how to truly become a member of the D.C. Cab clan. Somehow, this ends up with Tyrone and Albert driving on a railway for no particular reason. I suppose it's some sort of rite of passage or an odd death/suicide ritual now that Tyrone has given up his secret to Albert. Anyway, while the duo traverses the bumpy rails, Tyrone places the movie firmly in the ‘80s by confessing his unrequited love for contemporary pop diva Irene Cara. After Tyrone reveals this inconsequential plot point, Albert elects to chicken out of the ritual they're caught up in but, instead of Tyrone driving off the rails and to safety, a train quickly makes its presence known and there's TENSION! Tyrone and Albert, stuck on the tracks and in the car respectively, freak out, but their panic is unwarranted when they discover that the train is on a parallel track, sparing their lives, if not their sanity. Tyrone, unsurprisingly, passes out from the shock. I really can't say I blame him.

The next morning, after Tyrone recovers, Albert confesses that he now owes Tyrone a debt of honor thanks to Tyrone trying to save Albert's life the night before. In addition, Albert is kind enough to drive Tyrone back to D.C. Cab headquarters. Unfortunately for our hero, he's mugged along the way by the same perpetrator who was terrorizing Ophelia earlier in the film. Dum-dum-DUM! While Tyrone reels in the back seat, Albert – perhaps still maddened by the events of the prior evening – chooses not to listen to the perpetrator and instead steps on the gas. Tyrone, unsurprisingly, freaks out in the back seat as Albert, with a gun to his head, traverses the streets of Washington like a maniac, frightening the once bold mugger. Albert, with much haste, finally makes it to D.C. Cab headquarters where, after a bit of hilarious racial profiling by the police against Tyrone, the cabbie army captures the real criminal and turns him over. Speaking of turning over, Harold also discovers and turns in the violin, which the crazy bum had all along. Well, it's nice to see all those plotlines tied up in the span of a minute or two.

Now that most, if not all, of the dangling plotlines have been rectified, it's time to start some new ones, firstly just what Harold plans on doing with the reward money for the violin. Instead of jetting off to Rio like any sane person, Harold, altruistic regretful hippie that he is, convenes a meeting in the local diner and proposes using the reward – and all of his cabbies' shares of it – to start a profit-sharing plan for the greater good of D.C. Cab. I think that's what happens when collectivism and capitalism collide. Harold's associates, not as idealistic as he is, argue among themselves; meanwhile, the creepy grandmother waitress roughs up Albert, who dares to look upon the HOT CHICK that is her granddaughter. Perhaps to soothe Albert's wounds, Harold awards him with his newly earned cab-driver's license . . . and his first fare just happens to be a somewhat incognito HOT CHICK waitress!

Later that day, Harold gets on the radio and announces to his colleagues that he now has the reward money; for some reason, even though each share is only $10,000, all of the drivers freak out like they just hit the lottery. Meanwhile, Harold's whiny wife freaks out for a different reason, as she thinks that Harold's employees aren't worthy of the money . . . but she is. While the rest of the drivers celebrate in their own way, Albert and the HOT CHICK waitress make out; he may not be driving, but I'd say he is going somewhere. One would think that the good tidings would continue into the night but, alas, whereas there once was joy, now there is a veritable riot on Harold's front lawn. It seems that, much to the cabbies' collective chagrin, the whiny dispatcher took the reward money for herself and she's holding it hostage on the second floor of the house . . . and she fires off a few bursts from the flamethrower to bolster her point! Say it with me, folks: bitches be crazy.

Back at headquarters, Tyrone freaks out again because now D.C. Cab has no hope of surviving the fury of a woman scorned (in her own paranoid mind). While Tyrone gives up, Albert yells at his sullen compatriots and gives them a pep talk; even though the bulk of his colleagues seem unmoved by Albert's passion, Mr. T – still the film's moral center – steps up in support of his young coworker. Albert, perhaps as a final, last ditch effort to win over the trust and affection of the men and women of D.C. Cab, pledges his inheritance toward the improvement of the business. Evidently, this perhaps unwise move is enough to inspire the troops . . . except for Tyrone, who leaves because he's too busy perpetuating the stereotype of the angry intellectual black to stick around.

With their newfound righteousness in tow, the fine members of the D.C. Cab company find themselves embroiled in the midst of a musical montage, which plays as they renovate their headquarters, their cabs, and themselves. Ah, it's like a butterfly finally emerging from its cocoon; how touching. The good cabbie army, much to the dismay of their rivals, becomes professional and successful; luckily for us – and the entertainment value of this picture – they all remain lovably quirky. Meanwhile, now that he's apparently second-in-command of D.C. Cab, Albert triumphantly confronts the creepy grandmother waitress and he earns himself a legitimate date with the HOT CHICK waitress. I guess their days of illicit backseat trysts are done; now they can copulate on a cot or even in a bed. Good for them. In the ghetto, Mr. T finally gets what he wants when he foils the pimp by driving into the neighborhood with a sweet, tricked-out taxi. Wow . . . the last time a taxi driver foiled a pimp, things turned out a lot differently.

In the heart of Washington's tourist trap section, crazy Busey drives up to harass Tyrone, who's now working the streets . . . selling souvenirs. While Busey is distracted by some inconsequential plot device, Tyrone spies Irene Cara leaving a local hotel, so he steals Busey's taxi to pick her up and drive her to her chosen destination. Meanwhile, Albert, perhaps making good on his debt to Tyrone, drives his former compatriot's family to work. Once there, two bratty kids pelt Albert's car with eggs . . . and then, somehow, they're all caught up in some sort of kidnapping involving a nun and a really greasy guy. It turns out, surprisingly, that there is a reason for all this subterfuge as it is discovered that the two brats are actually the progeny of some ambassador. Ah; that makes sense. Anyway, the kidnappers force young Albert to call the ambassador with ransom demands. Moments later, after information of Albert's involuntary involvement in the kidnapping plot must have been illegally leaked to the media – where's "Scooter" Libby? – all hell breaks loose at D.C. Cab headquarters, where the FBI believe that Albert – in all his naïve, country-boy glory – is behind the kidnapping! With this in mind – and really for no justifiable reason at all except to pad out the film's running time a little more – the uppity guy closes D.C. Cab in the name of the District of Columbia. Dum-dum-DUM!

Later that evening, the cabbie army unites to have a meeting to figure out just how to rescue Albert and resolve the plot before the movie ends. Just once I'd love to see a film run out of time before the plot finishes; that'd be quite "artistic." Anyway, crazy Busey spouts off some apropos crazy things and then, pretty much just so that a scuffle can ensue, some agents from the rival cab company show up to stir up trouble among the heroes of D.C. Cab. While the men of D.C. Cab deal with their antagonists, Harold argues a bit with Ophelia over leaving for the rival cab company and then he takes his leave to take care of a little personal business. In Harold's stead, Tyrone shows up in the form of his college-graduate alter ego and he proposes that he and his former colleagues band together to rescue Albert! The cabbie army, now emboldened by Tyrone's totally unexpected return, rises up to steal their rivals' cabs and they take to the city to investigate Albert's disappearance.

Probably in the ghetto, the team of Mr. T, Bill, and Ophelia interrogates a hooker. Meanwhile, Busey, Tyrone, and Xavier – who we haven't seen much of in this film – visit one of Tyrone's relatives in the hospital. Once there, they discover some incriminating photos of the kidnappers' hideout, which the FBI brought along to question Tyrone's relative. The FBI agents present, after a few minutes of confusion, catch on to the trio's ruse, so Busey, Tyrone, and Xavier run from the scene with their newfound information locked safely in their brains. Elsewhere, at the kidnapper's hideout, Albert tries to melodramatically escape from his bindings. Meanwhile, Harold goes calling on his whiny ex-wife and, once there, he discovers that she's now sleeping with the uppity guy! At first, Harold searches for the flamethrower to exact some REVENGE but, in the end, cooler heads prevail – no pun intended – and Harold merely throws the uppity guy into his pool. From a second floor balcony. Oops.

Back at the kidnappers' hideout, Albert escapes from his basement prison and he sneaks over to an adjacent garage in which he finds his taxi. From his taxi, he tries to notify the cabbie army of his whereabouts, but the only one left on duty in a D.C. Cab is the crazy old bum. Albert relays some important information to him before he makes his way back into the house; somehow, the crazy old bum starts up his dilapidated cab – which he was also using for a home – and he tracks down Harold and the rest of the cabbie army. While the members of D.C. Cab argue over what to do next, Mr. T stands up – moral center, remember? – and gets on the case, since he's not sticking around for deliberation. In fact, I do believe he pities deliberation as much as he hates sticky cab seats. Of course, in lieu of his own deliberation, Mr. T does have time to provide a stirring, inspirational speech to lift the spirits of his colleagues in their search for Albert.

In fact, so inspired are the men and women of D.C. Cab that they return to their locked-up headquarters, break in, and bust out with their own cabs! You know what that could be considered? A JAILBREAK! AC/DC would be proud. While the bulk of the cabbie army search for a farmhouse and – somehow – Bruce Lee, Mr. T and the giant cabbies come upon the "Bruce Leigh" residence; after absolutely no deliberation, they bust into the house to find an innocent family eating dinner. Oh, the hilarity. Elsewhere, Tyrone somehow stumbles onto a drive-in playing – imagine that – a Bruce Lee movie! Tyrone notifies his D.C. Cab brethren and they then stake out the farmhouse and pretend to be cops. The kidnappers, not expecting the police to have tracked them down, argue and attempt to negotiate; Mr. T, meanwhile, has other ideas, so he and Tyrone conspire to rescue the brats. The kidnappers, their tickets to riches now gone, take off in their rickety van with Albert as a hostage but, unbelievably, the cabbie army gives chase! Somehow, in the midst of the ruckus, Albert subdues a black guy who was in league with the kidnappers and then he escapes with the aid of Mr. T and Tyrone just before the kidnappers serendipitously crash in to the back of the drive-in screen. In the denouement, all the hanging plotlines are tied up at a parade held in honor of D.C. Cab . . . and there is much rejoicing.

Like many movies I've covered here, particularly comedies, D.C. Cab, while not necessarily good, is entertaining. Yes, it is a bit hackneyed and clichéd but, especially when you consider the cast – and crew – in retrospect, then it becomes funny for a plethora of unintended reasons. Who could have predicted the varying fortunes of some of the cast and crew over the past twenty-three years? Hollywood's a crazy place and it couldn't be more evident than in D.C. Cab. That's what makes it a Misunderstood Masterpiece.

Join me next week as we study the days before they were called "pre-owned" cars. See you then!