Misunderstood Masterpieces: The Adventures Of Ford Fairlane
Posted by Will Helm on 03.30.2004
…or, Hickory Dickory Dock – It’s Number Fifty!
[Sorry for the delay; I didn’t have a chance to sit down and write this one properly last week and I wanted to make sure it was extra special for all of you.]
In the preceding few columns, I’ve requested some suggestions from you, my readers, as to what movie should hold the honor and privilege of being Misunderstood Masterpieces #50. To be quite honest, I was very surprised at how varied the responses were! I always knew there were bad movies, but I had no idea there were so many . . . and so many that were bad for different reasons. There were comedies, sci-fi epics, horror flicks, sappy dramas – maybe even a musical or two. So varied, in fact, were these nominations that no movie, save one, received more than one vote. That exception? Well, I’ll just let the delegates speak for it . . .
This first one, containing multiple nominations, comes to us from Rick Harbin:
For the misunderstood masterpieces 50 I think it should be Volunteers, Bill And Ted's Excellent Adventure, Moving Violations, Kuffs or Adventures Of Ford Fairlane.
And the second comes from frequent 411 correspondent Cabbageboy316:
. . . I just thought of the perfect misunderstood masterpiece if you haven't done it already: Ford Fairlane! It defines misunderstood masterpiece.
And so, through the awesome and overwhelming power of two votes, I bring you Misunderstood Masterpiece number 50: The Adventures of Ford Fairlane.
The Adventures of Ford Fairlane was released in 1990, mainly as a star-making vehicle for cult comic Andrew “Dice” Clay, the paradigm for Glitter’s “Dice” and Gigli’s Larry Gigli. No, I am not exaggerating. Just listen to how they all talk, if you get the chance. Eerie, isn’t it? Of course, the connections to previous editions of this column don’t stop there; the film was also directed by none other than Renny Harlin, who helmed such cinematic classics as A Nightmare on Elm Street 4: The Dream Master and Cutthroat Island. In addition to his inauspicious body of work, Harlin also holds the distinction of leaving Alien3 after a year of working on the film and, more recently, being chosen to replace Paul Schrader as the director of Exoricist: The Beginning after the former’s cut of the film was deemed not violent enough by the studio. I bet we’re all looking forward to the finished product now, aren’t we? Anyway, when you put together an ignominious director and a faddish lead actor, combine that with a bunch of late ‘80s/early ‘90s has-beens and never-will-be’s, add in a convoluted high-concept plot, what do you get? A Misunderstood Masterpiece, of course . . .
The film begins, surprisingly, with a Gigli-esque inner monologue to introduce us to the brash and braggadocious lead character Ford Fairlane (Clay). He’s sitting on a beach, mulling over his lot in life; we learn, through the helpful expository thoughts, that he is a self-described “rock n’ roll detective.” Oh, and he’s angstful; we can’t forget the angst. Why is he so full of self-loathing? Well, I believe it’s time for a good, old-fashioned flashback! Some undisclosed time prior to Ford’s musings on the beach, Vince Neil, on-again-off-again lead singer of Mötley Crüe, ziplines onto a stage and then spontaneously immolates. I think it’s because someone was very annoyed about the misuse of umlauts. After some helpful stagehands quell the fiery frontman, Vince starts to sing and then chokes to death. Oh well. I guess that God is a harsh and cruel music critic.
Elsewhere in the big city we all know and love as Los Angeles, Ford goes to a cheesy dance club. It appears, rather surprisingly, that being a “rock n’ roll detective” grants one a certain modicum of fame; then again, this is L.A. we’re talking about. People can become famous there just because they’re on a billboard or because they can do a horrendous rendition of a Ricky Martin song – talent is never part of the equation. Just to hammer home the fact that Ford is a quasi-celebrity, we get the wonderfully cliched “girl slaps guy and then they make out” shot; thank you for originality, Mr. Harlin. After the obligatory snogging, two jealous drunken preppy goofs hassle Ford, but he blows them off in order to chat with none other than Morris Day! Of course, if the character were named Morris Day that would be the ultimate in coolness but, since this movie is diametrically opposed to ultimate coolness, the leader of The Time is merely Don Cleveland, mild-mannered record producer. Hey . . . remember the last record producer found in a Misunderstood Masterpiece? What was his name again?
While Ford kibitzes with Don, former Remote Control HOT CHICK and current erotic thriller starlet and bad boob-job victim Kari Wuhrer asks the detective if he’s going to investigate the death of Bobby Black, Vince Neil’s ill-fated character. Even though he is the aforementioned “rock n’ roll detective,” Ford surprisingly errs on the side of good taste and respectfully declines . . . or at least I think he does. I don’t really remember and I forgot to write it down. Meanwhile, I did make note of the fact that leading the club band is none other than percussionist extraordinaire Sheila E. I’m sure that counts for something. Seeking to drown his antipathy for the horrid L.A. club scene, Ford bellies up to the bar for a sambuca shake. Umm . . . ick. That does not sound good at all. After a brief taste-test, Ford faces off against the psycho cokehead stalker (Commando’s David Patrick Kelly) he was hired to find; after a short scuffle, Ford knocks out his quarry by braining him with a disco ball. You know, it’s not often in everyday usage that you get to take advantage of the word “brain” as a verb . . . although I suppose in this case it would be a gerund. Whatever.
The next morning, Ford wakes up. A few moments later, Ford talks over the phone with his secretary, Jazz (the pride of Bristol, Pennsylvania, Lauren Holly), while two scantly clad girls run around the house looking for their clothes and complaining about not being held. I guess Ford, unlike Jason Voorhees, is not all about the cuddling. Outside the house, some kid, cleverly named The Kid (Brandon Call), asks Ford about Bobby Black; why do I sense a Chaplin-esque subplot in the making here? Outside his office, Ford is entertained by the vocal stylings of none other than Tone Loc! They bond a bit and then, in the office, Ford and some annoying all-girl band make fun of the psycho stalker and threaten castration. After the psycho stalker runs away with (luckily for him) more than his tail between his legs, we’re introduced to a silly running joke as it seems that all of Ford’s clients pay him in ironically appropriate goods rather than hard cash. You see, INXS paid with a koala, Milli Vanilli gave him hair extensions and bicycle shorts, etc. For an utterly disposable comedy (up to this point at least), that’s a fairly biting commentary on the music industry. Just wait, though . . . it gets better.
Speaking of better, nothing can be better than having a message by none other than Gilbert Gottfried on your answering machine. Ford does and he’s much luckier for it. It seems that our man Gilbert is cheesy DJ Johnny Crunch and he’s loud and obnoxious . . . yet remarkably reserved compared to the Diceman. At the studio, we learn that he and Ford go waaaay back and that he has called the private dick there to find his long lost “daughter.” He then references Chinatown in a quote that probably goes over 98% of the fanbase’s heads and makes the whole situation kind of icky. Ford exits, stage left, and gives another rambling monologue, just so that we have a glimpse of the tortured soul of a “rock n’ roll detective.” Simultaneously, back at the studio, someone breaks into Johnny’s radio show and shoots his producer; Ford hears all of this and returns quickly enough to discover his old friend being electrocuted. Well, I guess that Gottfried got fried, eh?
[cue cricket noises]
A little while later, the homicide detectives show up and make insensitive comments to Ford about his buddy’s death. Good . . . so I’m not the only one. Of course, when it comes to insensitivity during the late ‘80s and early ‘90s, no one takes the cake like Married with Children’s Al Bundy and, I’ll be damned, he’s here! Yes, ladies and gentlemen, it’s none other than TV’s Ed O’Neill as Lieutenant Amos of the LAPD. It appears that Amos is just a straight-laced, albeit insensitive, cop who also happens to be a failed disco singer; we learn this because he breaks into song while airing his long-standing beef with Ford. Back in the day, Ford was a publicist who spurned Amos’ band, leading the latter to a life of law enforcement. It’s funny how things work out like that. Later that night, Ford lights a funeral pyre on the beach but is interrupted by the annoying kid, who hires Ford to find his father. We’re slowly inching toward Chaplin-esque here.
The next morning, Priscilla Presley (as Colleen Sutton) visits Ford at his home and then he talks to his erection. No, really. She, unlike most of America at the time, doesn’t take any of his schtick. Priscilla Presley: oddly prescient. It seems that she is there to hire him to find her “sister,” who also happens to be the same person as Johnny’s “daughter.” Now if this chick is The Kid’s father, I’m really frightened. After his meeting with the Queen of Rock n’ Roll, Ford visits once again with Morris D . . . ahem, Don Cleveland. He takes some time out to insult the wimpy, wispy singer straining his pipes in the recording studio and, in turn, record mogul Julian Grendel. Of course, Ford should make sure he turns around before he opens his mouth as who should be behind him but the scourge of Beowulf himself, Wayne Newton! Wait a second . . . Wayne Newton maybe old, but I don’t think he was around in the Old English period. Although, when you want slimy and evil, there’s few better than Wayne Newton. I don’t know about anyone else, but I long for a film that’s just one long fistfight between Wayne Newton and Tom Jones. Ah, wishful thinking. Of course, since it makes absolutely no sense at this point in the film (much like Fight Club 2 featuring brawling lounge singers), Ford takes it upon himself to show the crappy singer how it’s done and a musical number breaks out. OK then.
That night, Ford goes off in search of Johnny’s “Mighty Penis.” Alright, calm down . . . it’s just a boat. Or perhaps a dinghy. Of course, your first, more perverted thought may have been more apropos as it’s not just a sailing vessel but a sex dungeon as well. I always thought he was a little odd like that. Confirming my suspicions, Ford watches a tape with Johnny and Colleen doing very naughty things together and then he finds Robert Englund in the medicine cabinet. Robert Englund, even though he is saddled with the terrible moniker “Smiley” (which I refuse to refer to him as), is polite enough to introduce himself with a well-timed “’ello, ‘ello”; Ford’s reaction to the impromptu introduction is classic, restrained, and my very favorite scene in the film. Yes, my favorite scene is probably less than a second long. Even though R.E. is polite, he’s also terribly psychotic, so he and Ford scuffle for a bit on the boat, shots are fired, and the boat sinks after R.E. ends up with a television on his head. Yes, it is as convoluted as it sounds.
The next day, Ford invites Jazz to accompany him to a party being thrown by Colleen; at said party, Ford clues Colleen into his carnal knowledge, specifically about her and Johnny. While exposition is exposed, Jazz arrives at the soiree dressed as a HOT CHICK suffering from ‘80s hair. Colleen meets Jazz and slips a CD down the back of her unbelievably tight dress; it’s at this point I wonder if more sexual perversion will break out. You know Colleen’s game for it. Meanwhile, Julian, miserly as well as sleazy, confesses to Ford that he believes that someone is ripping off his company. Later, we learn that the CD Colleen sensually slipped down Jazz’s dress is either a computer disc or a really lame techno album. Well, what else are you supposed to think when it’s all beeps and boops? Oh, and we also find out that Ford and Jazz have a romantic past together. Methinks that will come into play later.
Back at chez Fairlane, Ford bonds with his new pet koala and then Kurt Loder, in much the same way as his colleague Serena Altschul did in Queen of the Damned, comes on the television with some helpful exposition about Bobby Black’s funeral. Ford, mainly because a bunch of people hired him to find a girl who may be there, goes off to pay his respects. After wandering through the giant, cheesy crowd for a few minutes, Ford finally meets with Zuzu Petals (Barnard College’s own Maddie Corman), his enigmatic marker. She responds to Ford’s curiosity by summarily punching him in the crotch; Zuzu Petals: humor critic. Then again, whenever anyone gets punched in the crotch, that’s pretty much as summarily as it can get – it’s like psoriasis forever being “heartbreaking.” As Zuzu runs through the crowd to escape Ford, R.E. arrives, back from the dead, to kidnap her; he steals a limousine and attempts to run Ford over. Ha . . . now that’d be funny! Ford Fairlane getting hit by a car! Oh the irony! Oh the humanity! Ford, not content with letting a giggly assassin make off with his clients’ “daughter”/”sister,” commandeers a hearse . . . an occupied hearse. Ford sexually harasses the well-endowed corpse in the hearse while a chase scene goes on and yet more helpful plot exposition occurs. Somewhere along the line, the confluence of events leads to Bobby’s cylindrical coffin rolling down a hill followed by a throng of groupies. It’s too bad that the “Benny Hill Theme” wasn’t playing at that moment; it would’ve been a perfect opportunity. Damn you, Renny Harlin! R.E. is distracted by something or other, crashes his limousine and the dead HOT CHICK in Ford’s hearse comes back to life . . . and then the cops arrive because Zuzu is the prime suspect in one of the murders in the movie. I think it was Bobby’s, but I’m not quite sure.
Back at Ford’s house, he and Zuzu, who he surreptitiously escaped from the cops with in the last scene, find the koala hanged on the ceiling fan and then the television explodes. Tremble at the awesome power of Loder! He can do that, you know. Then, because someone left some mysterious lovin’ in the microwave oven, Ford and Zuzu run out of the house in slow motion because, nearly a minute later – a minute which could have been better served by running in normal time – the house explodes. Ooh, explosions. You’re really showing your range as a director, Mr. Harlin. That’s nothing at all like Die Hard 2: Die Harder. Nope, not at all. Outside the house, Ford and Zuzu find The Kid all messed up and then Ford’s cherry namesake automobile explodes. Um . . . did this movie suddenly turn into a country song or something?
On an unspecified stretch of highway, some frat boys in a ‘Vette blow off a hitchhiking Ford and Zuzu, but Kari Wuhrer returns to rescue them. While she takes them to her massively fantastic sorority house, Ford calls Jazz; he tells her where to find him, but this only helps the duster-clad cowboy thugs (on of which is William Shockley, a.k.a. Showgirls’ Andrew Carver) which are threatening her. Defenestration follows. Hmm . . . maybe this is a country song now after all. In an even more erotically fantastic scene, the sisters elect to induct Ford into their sorority, but the cowboy thugs arrive to break up the ceremony. After some threatening and posturing and maybe a little scuffling, the cowboy thugs lob a grenade into the (ironically enough) frat boys’ ‘Vette and blow up that fine piece of American engineering. In the aftermath, a remarkably alive Jazz, who is nearly PERFECTLY UNHARMED, walks up to the sorority house and Zuzu serendipitously gives her another edition of the aforementioned lame techno CD. Zuzu, because she hides her brains behind a façade of utter stupidity, even refers to it as such. Never trust the extremely outwardly dumb; you just know they’re hiding something.
Yet later, Ford goes to visit Julian with his findings and his hypothesis that Colleen is behind everything. At the record executive’s office, Ford discovers that Julian, R.E., and the cowboy thugs are in cahoots all along; Julian proves this theory and disproves Ford’s previous hypothesis by killing Colleen! Oops. The Queen is dead; long live the Queen! Julian then tortures Ford’s Fender Stratocaster, much to the “rock n’ roll detective’s” chagrin. Of course, since now we all know that he’s the evil mastermind, Julian graces us with some helpful “evil mastermind plot exposition” and here’s where it gets interesting. It seems that the entire scam was plotted by none other than Julian himself because he’s tired of seeing all his artists making money and not Julian making money. So, in order to bring some dough Julian’s way, he set up an illicit pirate CD corporation. Of course, somehow Bobby, Johnny, and Colleen caught wind of the little enterprise so there had to be murders. And, of course, this web of deceit includes Don, who is next on Julian’s hit list . . . number one with a bullet, in fact. Oh, and I’d be remiss in not mentioning that, during his entire speech, Julian is tying a bow tie. That’s equally swank and pimptastic.
OK, remember when I said that this plot was high-concept? This is exactly what I was referring to. The idea of a record company head pirating his own records just to make some money on the side sounds like something that would be more appropriate nowadays, in the age of file-sharing and the RIAA. Back in 1990, this was really groundbreaking stuff (it gets better, though . . . and in an ironic fashion; just wait). By the way, when it comes to the worst plot behind a series of murders, that distinction probably goes to 1948’s The Bodyguard which features – just wait until you hear this – the dastardly scheme of pumping water into beef to make it weigh more! Excuse me if I sound a bit disbelieving, but I never would have thought that people getting ripped off at the butcher’s counter is grounds for a murderous cover-up. Maybe that’s just me, however.
Anyway, back in the film of record, Julian leaves to celebrate the final murder of his sinister gambit; moments after his exit, Ford and Zuzu escape the evil clutches of the cowboy thugs and R.E. They run out the door together . . . and climb up the stairs! Why!?! Why! Why! Why! Why must they always run UP! I know that I’ve said it before, but no good ever comes from running UP stairs. Once you’re at the top, where are you going to go? BASE jump from the top to the ground? Say “Go go gadget copter” and hope something happens? One of these days I would just love to see someone actually successfully climb down the stairs to escape an attacker . . . one of these days. Since they started by doing the DUMB thing and climbing up, Ford and Zuzu now have the unenviable task of climbing down the outside of the Capitol Records building to escape their foes. Along the way, one of the cowboy thugs gets shot and falls off the side of the structure and then, in a convoluted turn of events, we, as well as Ford, learn that R.E. is The Kid’s father. Ford, because there isn’t time in the movie for tearful reconciliation, kills him with the Stratocaster. He and Zuzu finish by climbing all the way down to the sidewalk, insulting a family from Wisconsin, and finding the third CD in one of the stars on Hollywood Boulevard. The Kinks would be proud.
Ford, now driven by all the knowledge he needs about the case and a thirst for – what else – VENGEANCE, rescues Don from the surviving cowboy thug; Jazz then fights said thug in the alleyway. Then, because this film leaves no plotline unturned, the psycho stalker triumphantly returns to aid Jazz in dispatching the cowboy thug. In the club, Ford confronts Julian and hands over the incriminating CD’s, which Julian immediately begins to eat. Yum yum gimme some. And now this is where the truly high concept stuff happens . . . while Julian gloats that all evidence against him is destroyed, Ford reveals that he has copies of the CD’s all along. You see, Ford has unauthorized copies of CD’s that contain the records of an illegal pirating scam! It’s just, just . . . brilliant! Ford, in essence, pirated CD’s which contained information on a pirating racket! Unbelievable. How post-modern and self-referential. Of course, all of this probably went over the heads of 99.9% of the viewership. Oh well. Julian, now sensing defeat, confesses everything and totally lambastes the entire music industry, which Zuzu helpfully catches on a live microphone. Sometimes you have to wonder where Julian Grendel ends and Wayne Newton begins. Onstage, Julian does something or other to threaten Ford, so Ford douses him with a sambuca shake and lights the no-goodnik ablaze. Danke schoen, Mr. Newton.
After the dramatic conflagration, we catch up where we started, with Ford on the beach being melancholy . . . thus ending one of the longest flashbacks in cinematic history. While Ford still laments on his plight, R.E. returns AGAIN from the dead to threaten the “rock n’ roll detective.” We learn, through one final moment of helpful exposition, that R.E. is NOT The Kid’s father at all, so Ford has no qualms about shooting the laughing hoodlum to death. Later, still on the beach, Ford adopts The Kid in a touching moment; Billie Jean would be proud, but Michael Jackson wouldn’t. He’d probably be more excited than anything. Then, as if on cue, Jazz pulls up on the beach in her VW Beetle convertible (careful you don’t get sand in the engine, sister) and she and Ford romantically reunite. Moments later, Ford’s phone, which survived multiple explosions PERFECTLY UNHARMED, rings and Ford wins one million dollars. And, finally, everyone ends up happily ever after on a boat somewhere in the tropics . . . including the koala, which has been miraculously resurrected. I’m a sucker for a happy ending.
Looking over the preceding paragraphs, I’ve come to the conclusion that The Adventures of Ford Fairlane is, by far, the ideal fiftieth Misunderstood Masterpiece. We have a star who’s speech patterns influenced the male leads of both Glitter and Gigli; there are has-beens galore; some of the minor actors also appeared in other Misunderstood Masterpieces (Commando, Showgirls, Freddy Vs. Jason; and Wayne Newton is there! How can you go wrong with that? Of course, I’d be remiss in not mentioning that there’s one very very good thing about this film: one of Billy Idol’s best songs is on the soundtrack. Although I have the sneaking suspicion that “Cradle of Love” actually made more money than the film it was featured in . . . it’s just a hunch. Then again, would that be at all surprising for a Misunderstood Masterpiece?
Join me next week as we start off the next half-century of columns with my grandest Hall of Fame induction yet!
