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| Doctor Detroit Director: Michael Pressman Universal 1983 I was trying to figure out why this shit is so enchanting. Maybe ‘cuz Detroit’s in the title, maybe ‘cuz it’s about pimping, maybe ‘cuz Howard Hesseman’s name is Smooth Walker, maybe’ cuz they smoke joints for 15-minutes in a Lincoln limo and a hot tub, maybe ‘cuz it ends with a teaser for the sequel that never came. But maybe it’s ‘cuz I bought it for six bucks and there’s a whole bunch of other shit I’ve paid more than six dollars for that wasn’t half a funny as this shit, like motherfucking parking tickets. Fuck L.A., I paid 800 Somalians, I shit you not, in parking tickets last month, what the fuck is that? Not this movie. Aykroyd, whose name shouldn’t come up under spell check on anyone’s computer, is in the zone. The shit stretches and drags, but he’s in tune with it, I mean the robot hand chiropractic nonsense is harsh, but so was Coneheads. Peep the power walking and almost pleasant presence of Fran Drescher. Dude, remember you get to see her tits in Cadillac Man? Of course the future of a university is at stake, of course Aykroyd’s wearing short-shorts and fencing with a 300-pound dyke. There’s only half as much cereal in the junkyard as Nothing But Trouble, but it’s nothing but gravy to watch. Token black guy balance is in full ’83 effect: Diavolo is totally butters. Right on broham! Gnarly tube! The West Coast is fucking with my headpiece. It’s solid; get into a hot tub, blow five joints and anything’s good. -Sven Barth Rating: The episode of Magnum P.I. where Selleck befriends a little Vietnamese street-urchin/hustler. |
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