Here we are at long last. If you missed my earlier review of Attack of the Giant Leeches, you can find it on the Oh, The Humanity! page. If you're so inclined, feel free to check it out or the puppy gets it.
WARNING! WARNING! WARNING!
In case the title didn't clue you in, if you don't have a sense of humor about religion, run away. Run far away. No, seriously, get the hell out of here now, you'll thank me. Having said that, on a personal level I have a hard time seeing the movie as offensive or blasphemous, but my definitions of those are admittedly narrower than some. Maybe if the whole thing had more of a foot in reality than it does. Maybe, but I kinda doubt it.
Let me put it this way. If you think Kevin Smith is going to burn for Dogma, you're going to Hell if you read past this sentence. You have been warned.
It's tough to make an intentionally bad movie. Actually, I take that back, for as Jason Friedberg and Aaron Seltzer have taught us, it's WAY too fucking easy to make an intentionally bad movie. The bitch is making an intentionally bad movie that's, you know, entertaining. As a result, far too many mouth-breathers have hit upon the Bad Movie Excuse Clause™, which is a nifty little "get out of lynching free" card for filmmakers. It generally goes something like "Of course this sucks flaccid elephant schlong! It's a BAD MOVIE!" whereupon I generally respond by throwing my couch through the television screen (or a friend if one's available, couches are expensive). But alas, the Bad Movie Excuse Clause will be here to stay as long as it allows untalented fuckwads to defecate on a piece of paper, call it a script, and proceed to wipe it all over us during an over-hyped summer release and massive advertising campaign. Jason and Aaron, I'm looking in your direction.
Needless to say, JCVH took me by surprise. Not to be that asshat who liked something before it was cool, I did get to pick this up prior to it becoming the minor legend that it is now. I mean come on. I'm strolling through the video store and spot something called Jesus Christ Vampire Hunter? Oh yeah, I had a choice, suuure I did. On my first viewing, I missed half the movie because I was laughing so hard. The second time around I decided to inflict it on some unsuspecting friends and missed half the movie because they kept demanding to know what the fuck is wrong with me.
By the way, the only thing better than watching fucked up movies is watching fucked up movies with poor, innocent, normal people who have no idea what they're getting themselves into. Really, try it sometime; it's a hoot and a half.
Anyway, the picture seemed an obvious choice for review. Hell, I figured it would practically write itself seeing as how the subject is that true rarity - a movie that really is as funny as the creators think it is. So of course it turned into a nightmare undertaking. See, it's totally easy to make fun of Attack of the Giant Leeches because one, the movie takes a dead serious approach, and two, it's 62 minutes long and still boasts an impressive amount of padding. Perfect fodder for a lazy asshole like me. But JCVH is feature length and the times it stops for breath are few and WAY far between. Hell, the first draft of this review was twelve pages and about as engaging as a dissertation on lungfish shit. It was tough deciding what to leave on the cutting room floor so as to not require you readers to pack a lunch (and to conserve my supply of wiener jokes). JCVH is an unbelievably psychotic mishmash of comedy, sight gags, horror, gore, musical numbers, soft-core lesbianism (soft-soft-core, this is a family film), and lots and LOTS of kung fu fightin'. If any film ever needed Ritalin, this is the one.
On a last note before getting to the movie proper, while watching for the purposes of this review I discovered it takes a while to get through a flick you have to pause every thirty seconds so you can write something down. The end result was six and a half fucking pages of tiny, garbled, completely illegible scribbling that would give my high school English teacher a brain aneurism just from being in the same room.
Okey dokey folks, put your willing suspension of disbelief somewhere it can't hurt itself and let's get rollin'.
JESUS CHRIST VAMPIRE HUNTER (2001)
The fun starts before the movie does. Each and every time I watch this thing (which is way more often than could possibly be healthy), I have to leave it on the menu screen for a minute or two before getting to the actual movie. The reason is that "Everybody (Gets Laid Tonight)" is quite simply the most awesome movie theme ever. I always assumed that if I got around to listing the all-time great title songs, "The Forbidden Zone Theme" and "Killer Klowns" would be locked in a no time limit last man standing deathmatch for the number one spot. Well, "Everybody" just ran in and took them both out with a fucking steel chair. If you're not still singing it under your breath half an hour after the movie ends, you are officially WAY too serious a person.
Now that we've finally hit play, we get some generic "watermelon watermelon rutabaga rutabaga" noises from wandering picketers before being presented with what may be the most terrifying person I have ever laid eyes on. This is the "Narrator" or at least that's how he's credited, although you may have noticed I put the word "narrator" in quotes. In a nutshell, a guy who lost his last marble about an ice age ago leaps out of the bushes and spends a solid minute spouting non-sequiturs that have exactly zero to do with the movie. I already mentioned this dude was scary, but I didn't really do him justice there. I should have said he looks like the bastard offspring of Charles Manson, Rasputin, and Xanta Klaus. I suspect a sharp eye was kept on the weather because if this freakazoid ever got wet I doubt anything would be left but madly glaring eyeballs and a set of teeth that makes Jaws look like a slightly irritable goldfish. I further suspect the filmmakers found this guy preaching on a street corner and asked if he'd like to make five bucks. Either that or he auditioned and they were afraid to turn him down on the grounds he might eat their children.
Cue the opening credits where it becomes somewhat apparent what kind of movie we're watching with names like Mary Magnum, Blind Jimmy Leper, and Gloria Oddbottom. Subtle, movie, real subtle.
Switch to a soft-core lesbian vampire attack where we get our first line of official dialogue, which is the altogether magnificent "Where have all the lesbians gone?" I hereby decree that all movies from this point forward must include this line. I mean, think of how much cooler Transformers would have been if Optimus Prime's first line had been "Where have all the lesbians gone?" Presto, totally killer movie, as opposed to... well... what we got.
Oh, and by the way. The vampire fangs in this picture are about two steps up from the wax fangs we used to loathe as kids. They're invariably six degrees of the color spectrum away from the actor's natural teeth and sit about as straight as Shia LaBeouf. I'll address this in detail later on as it represents an interesting phenomenon; namely the wildly varying quality on display.
Now we meet Father Eustace who is sporting the single worst white guy afro since Wings Hauser. Fortunately, he is meeting with Father Alban who balances him out by sporting the single best foot-long pink mohawk since... well, I can't think of anything, but it's still pretty damn cool. I tell you, if all priests looked like him I'd never miss church. To make things even better, Father Alban is reading a paper with the headline "NCC Reports Critical Lesbian Shortage - Fringe Festival In Danger". If all newspapers read like this, I'd never miss an edition.
If you ever watched an old chopsocky movie on Kung Fu Theater, the following exchange should prove somewhat familiar. The priests agree that there is only ONE MAN who can face this challenge and conquer a veritable army of the undead. An unstoppable, incorruptible, iron-fisted killing machine who can take the battle to the vampire's lair and end the threat to lesbians worldwide. Chuck Norris? Pfft. Segal? You're kidding, right? Bruce Lee? Closer, but still wrong since he's busy being dead and stuff. Okay, I'll give you a hint; it has something to do with the title of the film.
So Father Alban joins forces with the newly arrived Father Avellino in the quest to find this unyielding force of nature, strutting the latest fashion in motorcycle helmets designed for priests with foot-long pink mohawks. Father Alban cuts a hell of a figure on the bitch seat of a moped, lemme tellya. Our hero and savior's Fortress of Solitude is the beach where he's been peacefully baptizing people, preaching the gospel, and building sandcastles for the last two thousand years. He of course kindly offers the priests some lemonade, since he's Jesus and all.
I need to interject here for a second. All silliness aside (well most of it anyway), the character of Jesus Christ is treated with a surprising amount of respect. Definitely a New Testament kind of guy, he's never too busy to take time out to comfort someone, heal someone, preach some loving gospel, or play a quick game of hopscotch. Factor in that he's a total fucking badass, and you wind up with one heck of a Blessed and Only Ruler (1 Tim. 6:15).
But whoops! Here come some lady vamps (in broad daylight, mind you, that's important) having somehow found Jesus' hideout so carefully hidden away on the beach. Now here's where some people may start to find this silliness offensive, as the first thing the lady vamps do is kick Jesus in the nuts. But hey man, the King of Kings (Rev. 19:16) has been kicked in the nuts (figuratively) before, and he retaliates by busting out some wicked cool kung fu moves!
Yes, that is correct. Jesus is, in fact, a kung fu master. Talk about the body of Christ.
Okay, I ripped that last joke straight out of the movie, but it's my review and I'll do what I want with it. So thppt. Anyway, alas, Father Alban doesn't survive the encounter, so we must wave a sad farewell to the super-awesome mohawk we've come to know and love. But our man doesn't go quietly into that great beyond, as his last act is to bless the entire fucking ocean so Jesus can kung fu the vampires right into a gazillion square miles of holy water. Father Alban, we shall miss thee, for truly thee were a stud.
I suppose you could call this the second coming, and the Author and Perfecter of our Faith (Heb. 12:2) kicks it off with a shave, haircut, and a couple piercings while he's at it. While this is a huge shame, I must admit it must have been tough kung fu fighting with a wig and fake beard. But not to worry, the movie wastes no time in making it up to us in a big way.
I did mention this is a musical right?
There is absolutely no way to describe this, except to say they somehow found themselves some pretty damn good synchronized dancers. That and whoever managed to work in the lyric "You show me yours and I'll show you mine" was bucking for a hell of a lightning bolt.
And now the film graciously introduces an element that no matter how many times I see it (and I've seen it a LOT) just keeps getting funnier - the Jesus Symbol. I fucking love this thing. Picture, if you're old enough, the old Adam West swirling Batman symbol thingie that zoomed in and out to signal a scene change. Now picture that with a crucifix instead. Now picture that with a swirling background that is actually worse than the Batman version. Throw in a supposed-to-be-but-isn't-even-close angelic chorus just for shits and giggles and you, my friend, now know that which is true joy.
The scene we cut to is Father "Bad White-Guy Afro" Eustace treating the Good Shepherd (John 10:11,14) to some buffalo wings at Hoot... uh, I mean Straight Shooters to give him the latest low-down on the vampire situation. Incidentally, this is where we find out that Phil Caracas who plays Jesus can do shit with his eyebrows that God never could have intended. I'm not convinced those things aren't remote controlled. However, since right now the Precious Cornerstone (1 Pet. 2:6) has boobs in his face, I suppose some eyebrowing is in order. Don't worry, Jesus remains quite chaste.
What follows is possibly the greatest kung fu fight ever, as Jesus is beset upon by a vicious roving gang of atheists! After the head atheist issues the glorious line "Jesus, we're taking your second coming ass down!" six more jump out of the Jeep. And then six more. And six more. And as the Son of Man (Mt. 8:20) gives what can only be described as an "oh, fuck me" look, six more. He of course Christ Fu's them into next Tuesday, and I'd like to make special note here that Jesus throws a better leg drop than Hulk Hogan ever did in his life. Alas, the same cannot be said for his opponents who, shall I say, don't really know how to take a bump. Anyway, after trashing six more grunts, three "elite atheists", a Shaolin monk (?), and then finally the two head atheists themselves, we're up to thirty-six nonbelievers to a Jeep. Not too shabby, huh? The Holy One (Acts 3:14) of course forgives and blesses the enormous pile of unconscious bodies as he goes about his loving and peaceful way.
Apropos of nothing, I've recently discovered the word "atheist" is really hard to spell correctly.
Jesus Symbol Alert!
Back we go to Jesus' apartment where Mary Magnum is waiting to offer her assistance as the "Apostle to the Apostles" (her business card, not mine). Of course they gotta kung fu fight a little bit first, just 'cause. Now I shit you not, I don't know where they found this chick but Mary Magnum has got some moves, brother, and offers up some most impressive scenery in the bargain. Man, now all she needs is a line like "The position of women in the church hasn't always been so horizontal" and I'm in love... oh. Dammit.
Jesus Symbol Alert! Did I mention I love this thing?
Time for something I think is a misstep but in hindsight was probably necessary; a wardrobe change. Those robes are SO last millennium. Since it's already been proven that Our Redemption (1 Cor. 1:30) can kung fu his ass off while wearing ankle-length robes, I suspect the location manager may have demanded the change to more conventional attire after getting kicked in the nuts too many times.
"Hi, we're making a martial arts movie and want to use your bar as a set."
"I love action movies! C'mon in!"
As opposed to...
"Hi, we're making a martial arts movie and want to use your bar as a set."
"I love action movies! But, um... why is that guy dressed like that?"
"Oh, that's Jesus."
I think you get the drift.
All decked out in their new threads, Mary and Jesus tail the vampires back to a hospital. After a few extremely loving shots of Mary's red vinyl-clad ass, we're introduced to someone almost as captivating - Doctor Praetorious. If there's a problem with this movie it's that Dr. P. doesn't get nearly enough screen time. I don't know if he's the worst actor in the world, the best actor in the world, certifiably insane, or just high off his tits on way better shit than I got, but he embodies that old actor precept "It's all in the delivery, baby".
Anyway, remember all those vampires running around in broad daylight? As Dr. P. tears a piece of a dime-store bald cap off a woman's thigh, he explains to the otherwise empty room that a skin graft from a lesbian will allow a vampire to endure the sunlight. Why lesbians? So we can have girls smooching on camera, that's why. What were you thinking? The Doc then informs the two head vampires creatively named Maxine Schreck and Johnny Golgotha "We're running low on skin. I suggest we harvest another lesbian". I'm telling you, the writer deserved either an Oscar award or a straightjacket, probably both.
So off go the vampires to the local Lesbian Drop-In Center which only needs a night deposit to make it perfect (c'mon guys, it was right there!) They promptly slaughter all the lesbians, save one who spends the next two minutes screaming like a parrot with a bad case of constipation. Jesus and Mary show up a little late to save this particular day, but just in time for much kung fu. In the process, Maxine vamps Mary in more ways than one. You know, I'm starting to get the feeling that this movie is fond of lesbians. Maybe it's just me.
Narrator Alert! This dude really needs his own TV show, if for no other reason than to give children everywhere nightmares for the rest of their lives.
As the Lamb of God (John 1:29) lay wounded and despondent in the street, a priest happened to be going down the same road, and when he saw the man, he passed by on the other side. So too, a policeman, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side. But a Samaritan, as he traveled, came where the man was; and when he saw him, he took pity on him. He went to him and bandaged his wounds, pouring on oil and wine.
Okay, the Good Samaritan is a transexual. But hey, a parable is a parable, right?
Jesus Symbol Alert!
Back to Ha Ha We Don't Have To Pay Hooters A Dime. I really can't describe this scene, so I'll just give you the dialogue verbatim. Make of it what you will.
Cherry Sundae: Jesus...
Jesus Christ: Is that you, bowl of cherries?
Cherry Sundae: Do bowls of cherries talk, Jesus?
Jesus Christ: I don't know. I've seen a lot of strange things over the years.
Cherry Sundae: You need help, Jesus, and I will not forsake it.
Jesus Christ: Oh, it's you Dad.
God/Cherry Sundae Puppet advises the Faithful and True Witness (Rev. 3:14) to get a new sidekick, as well as call his mom since she misses him. And so we come to the wrestling portion of the movie and one of the better Santo impersonators.
If you've never seen a Santo movie (which you damn well should have because he did almost fifty of the things), you should know that he was always presented as an amalgam of Superman, Hulk Hogan, and Mother Theresa. This particular Santo is about a foot too tall, a hundred pounds too heavy, wrestles like three-day-old donkey shit, and is a little too alive to be the real thing. That said, it's obvious that the writer watched a metric butt-ton of Santo movies because otherwise the character is spot on, right down to the nonstop wrestling metaphors. He even takes time out in the middle of a battle to sign an autograph for an adorable little blind girl, although what a blind girl needs with an autograph escapes me. To be truthful, I'm a little nervous about the Braille buttons on drive-up ATM's too.
Jesus Symbol Alert!
Cut to the Dominion Tavern where the entertainment for the evening is none other than Blind Jimmy Leper (played by someone credited as Lucky Ron - go fig). I wish I knew this guy personally because he'd be the best wingman on the planet. Think of the most horrifyingly ugly person you've ever seen, get rid of half his teeth, replace the rest with gold ones, starve him down to about sixty pounds, make him one hell of a scat singer, and you got BJL. For you whippersnappers out there, scat does not mean he's singing about poop, sorry. During a guest performance where we find out that the True Light (John 1:9) is a hell of a drummer, a glance in the mirror reveals no reflections save Jesus and company. The whole bar is nothing but vampires, and we all know what that means: KUNG FU FIGHT!
And hoo baby! Along with a heaping helping of good old Christ Fu and some really shitty excuses for wrestling moves, the vampires are drumsticked, chaired, hair pinned, blind man sticked, garlic breathed, crutched, darted, blessed beered, pool cued, plungered, and toothpicked to death. You know, I don't understand why so many goths want to be vampires because man those suckers go down easy. Then again, this is Jesus Christ and Santo, arguably the two most badass badasses in the history of badassness. My spell checker just melted.
Narrator Alert! This time he's preaching about a medicine cabinet. No, I don't know either. The really scary thing is that he's starting to make a microscopic bit of sense, even as you're smooshing yourself back in your chair to get as far away from this Lovecraftian whack job as possible.
Alas, the vampires capture Santo and his delightfully named assistant Gloria Oddbottom. After a quick call from Mom for encouragement, the Hope of Glory (Col. 1:27) races to the rescue, but is ultimately taken captive by the newly undead duo of Mary Magnum and Father Bad Afro. After much kung fu fighting, of course.
Will Jesus escape and trigger the climactic kung fu fight? Will Mary Magnum and Father Eustace be restored and have their souls saved? Will Santo score with the lesbian who has "pinned his heart to the mat"? Hah! Wild horses couldn't drag that information out of me.
As I mentioned earlier, the most amazing thing about Jesus Christ Vampire Hunter (aside from the brass balls required to make the thing in the first place) is the ferociously varied level of talent on display. Jesus is a damn impressive stage fighter, the scenes are beautifully shot, and they scored themselves up some killer singers and dancers. Even the otherwise completely shitty Santo is written and delivers his lines so perfectly it borders on the eerie. On the flip side, the people who can't fight REALLY can't fight, the foley work has to be heard to be believed, I've already commented on the quality of the vampire fangs, and the Godzirra Effect™ is set on overdrive. For those unfamiliar with that term, it's a phenomenon that occurs when a movie was shot in English but without sound due to budget constraints. Usually the dialogue is so poorly looped you feel like you're watching a 50's Godzilla movie, as is the case here. In a nutshell, this film is the very definition of working with whatever the hell you got.
And to speak frankly, I consider JCVH to be the epitome of independent filmmaking. For starters, it was shot over a two-year period with the cast and crew working on weekends (which explains why the fighting gets noticeably better as the movie progresses). And the filmmakers absolutely lived by the rule of "if it's messed up enough to be interesting, get it in the picture somehow". As an example, the climactic battle features two female luchadores, one wearing what I'm pretty sure is a Psychosis mask. Couple that up with a Santo mask so ill-fitting the actor had to be working blind and it becomes apparent that somebody knew somebody who collected wrestling masks. Hey, Jesus kung fu-ing vampires is one thing, but Jesus kung fu-ing lady luchador vampires is a whole new ball game, pal. Somebody knows a guy with a neon pink mohawk? Call him up, we need that dude in the movie! There's a used clothing store in town with the most grotesque interior design imaginable? We GOTTA have that for a set! You received a big fake plastic butt as a gag gift on your birthday? Well hell, let's write in a character named Gloria Oddbottom! The flick is chock full of these sort of things, from the Narrator on down to the drag queen with the spookily real-looking boobies. Now be honest, do you really think you're going to get anything like this from Michael Bay?
This is one of the movies in my collection that was bought brand spanking new just because it deserves to be bought. These people had a vision, and screw anybody who tried to fuck with it. Hmm... that was probably poorly worded. But still, they had enough faith in their core concept to not so much run with it as go on a five-mile marathon sprint followed by an orgy. This in itself takes balls of solid granite, and when you're presenting Jesus Christ as a kung fu master you probably need a wheelbarrow just to lug those things around.
Before ending this behemoth of a review, I want to add one last quick word about the whole blasphemy thing. Okay, yeah, it's off the charts, but the whole movie plays out like a cartoon. Since there's little to nothing that one could even pretend is based in reality, anyone horribly offended probably needs to lighten up just a smige. If there's a message in the movie, it's that Jesus Christ is the stud from which all studliness springs, which you gotta admit is one mother of an endorsement.
Final Rating: The only thing missing is a sorry-ass looking monkey suit.