This is the first of three reviews intended for my very own write/off, the first I have ever conducted *pause to wipe a tear from my eye* The gist of this W/O is that we, the reviewer, pick a film to review that features an appearance from a now A-list actor, from a time when they were struggling to get even the most demeaning of parts OR a film that features a previous household name, who now takes whatever roles they can get in order to pay the rent. So it’s basically a chance to reminisce/laugh at potentially embarrassing roles even the most high profile of movie stars had to resort to in order to make it where they are today. Kind of like those home movies your mum makes your new partner watch of you when you are younger.

My first contribution to this write/off is looking at the early work of a very famous actor, in a film that he wishes he could totally wipe from his CV (note to American readers: CV is the English term for ‘resume’ i.e. your employment history. Just so you know).

The film? None other than – wait for it - Return Of The Killer Tomatoes.

THE PLOT

Now, with a title like that, you can bet your mortgage, your soul and your gran that this is a B-Movie through and through. Yes, it really is about murderous vegetables. And, yes, it really is a sequel. The original film, entitled simply Attack Of The Killer Tomatoes, was a simple pastiche of 50’s monster movies, revelling in the deadpan silliness that tomatoes could ever pose a viable threat to mankind. Of course, human resilience shone through, as the vegi-threat was literally stamped out, the backstory relayed to us via a series of brilliantly camp flashbacks.

Taking up events in the following years, in a world where all forms of tomatoes are outlawed, Return Of The Killer Tomatoes sees Wilbur Finletter (Stephen Peace), he who orchestrated the human attack against the tomatoes, running a pizzeria with his nephew Chad (Anthony Starke). A pizzeria, you say? How’s that work in a world were tomatoes are illegal? Well, such a premise offers the films first great gag, as our leads come up with as many alternatives for base-sauce that are as hilarious as they are truly revolting (peanut butter, anyone?).

But wait, because in B-Movie World, for every good guy desperate to keep the peace, there’s always someone determined to break down the barriers. Enter Professor Gangreen (John Astin, who seems to be the only living actor who can manically grin throughout an entire film and still not come across as hammy), an angry - note: not mad, just angry - scientist who is conducting numerous nefarious experiments with the banned vegetables. More specifically he creates a formula which, when triggered by certain types of music, transforms an ordinary garden tomato into a psychotic, bemuscled warrior. With these creations, Gangreen intends to, yep you guessed it, take over the world. His plan takes a minor setback when he creates a mutant tomato covered in fur (Fuzzy Tomato), whom he casually discards, only for it to be taken in by Gangreen’s tomato-created housemaid and sex slave Tara (Karen Mistal).

Disgusted by the manner in which Gangreen treats both herself and FT, Tara flees his mansion and into the arms of Chad, who has been fixated with her for months on end. Unaware that she is a chemically altered being he moves her into his abode, setting off a chain of events that, once again, sees mankind staging a do-or-die battle against the evil tomatoes.

THE VERDICT

If truth be told, if the story seems in any way involved, it’s more to do with the fact that I’ve taken the liberty of fleshing it out than anything else. Return Of The Killer Tomatoes is a film that relies not one iota on plot, and more with churning out as many gags as humanly possible in a 90-minute running time. Naturally, with such a high quota of jokes, the ratio of hit-to-miss is a decidedly awry 50/50 split, and director John De Bello seems to get high on the idea of implanting as many gags as humanly possible that remind us we are watching a film. The film, for example, is preceded by an PBS-style telethon, which interrupts the feature during the climatic showdown (not gonna give away how), while at random moments ambiguous bit-part roles comment on how well the film is going. “There hasn’t been a chase scene in the movie yet - it’s already 25 minutes old” note two passers-by.

There’s also an inspirational running gag (since ripped off by Wayne’s World and (spit) Josie And The Pussycats) in which our heroes are forced to advertise as many products as humanly possible in order to pay for the production budget: a packet of Kelloggs Corn Flakes is placed in front of the camera during a two-shot in a restaurant booth; Gangreen wears a Pepsi ad on the back of his lab coat, while his assistant Igor (Steve Lundquist, whose boyish good looks provide a cheap but cheerful gag in relation to his authenticity as a lab lackey) stops during a phone call to mention the name of the service provider; and a bizarre conversation is improvised in which numerous soda, beer and chocolate brands are plugged.

But while all these early attempts at post-modernism sit well with the farcical nature of the film, we get surprisingly little in the way of the same deadpan absurd humour that served the original so well. There is the odd scene that hits the same silly absurdity - a dog in a diving mask, a talking teddybear screaming for its life, or a snake yelping as it is nudged by a vacuum cleaner - but most of the time the humour seems silly and forced. The film doesn’t seem happy to follow a logical sense of reason, and seems to shoehorn the gags in at certain intervals; after a panicked evacuation of a restaurant, a simple TV interview with slightly rotund woman is inexplicably turned on its head as the reporter begins abusing her: “You mean you were eating alone - you can’t get a date? You can’t even see your own feet, you fat cow.”

And then there’s the scene in which a simple altercation in the pizza parlour turns into a bar room brawl, complete with cowboys, children, restaurant patrons and ninjas (!). Sure, it’s meant to be brutal and taken with a more than a pinch of salt, but there’s nothing leading up to moments like these that suggest its little more than a last minute idea literally thought up on the spot. With a belly full of beer you probably won’t notice how awkwardly they sit within the film, and they guarantee the odd chuckle, but De Bello’s penchant for farce beyond farce goes someway to killing off a lot of the jokes. And, man, an overly used parachute gag was old way before the invention of cinema itself.

THE NAME-DROPPING

So, I hear you ask, where’s the A-list then? Astin, Peace, Bello and Starke are hardly household names are they? Well, my doubting chum, Return Of The Killer Tomatoes certainly does boast the acting talents of a Hollywood big shot, and they sure as hell don’t come any bigger than George Clooney. As the suave ladykiller Matt Stevens, best bud to Chad, Clooney portrays his usual traits of a charming womaniser, all smooth chat-ups and piercing good looks, while also sporting the most frighteningly tight perm I’ve ever seen. When he’s not hosting fake competitions for a queue of sun-tanned beauties to meet Rob Lowe (offering himself as the consolation prize when the girls realise Lowe isn’t gonna turn up) he’s a bungling and yet endearing foil to Starke’s somewhat wooden and highly-strung main role.

His early eye for comic delivery is evident, but on this performance you’d have been hard pressed to believe that he’d go onto be one of the world’s most sought-after actors. Sure, he’s frat-boy cute and likeable in a comic relief kind of way, but then again so was Corey Feldman, and look where that got him: DTV hell. It says a lot for either the man’s agent, or his shrewd acting abilities, that he went on to become such a diverse and appealing main star. And thank sweet Christ he decided to get rid of the hair before moving onto E.R.

Would Mr Clooney thank you if you brought up his effort here in conversation? Probably not, but he’d rather this be on his CV than The Peacemaker or Batman And Robin. You have to be either very drunk, very open-minded or very willing to be bombarded with slapstick of the most lowbrow level to enjoy it, and it could have done with a little more polishing on the gag front. But we’re talking about a film that begins its opening credits with the screening of a feature entitled Big Breasted Girls Go To The Beach And Take Their Tops Off. Working off that barometer alone, you’d be hard pressed to expect anything other than what you get.

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This is an early contribution to my write/off, but you can expect postings from the genius minds of arjita, artbyjude, BigJack, brodieman, d_fienberg, jankp, lemon_lime, Lynus, Macresarf1, mfunk75, MrsNormanMaine, skbreese, susidee34, tjmackey, Vormancian, Weirdo_87 and xxxxer over the next few days. Excited yet? Damn right you are.


Recommended:
Yes

Viewing Format: VHS
Video Occasion: Good for a Rainy Day
Suitability For Children: Suitable for Children Age 13 and Older