So a lot of my fellow trash-movie fans, I've noticed, are usually big punk fans as well, with a sort of dedication that I feel a certain distance from. Punk is probably one of my favorite music genres, but its presence in my life, as with most music genres I like, will likely be eclipsed forever by my love of metal. Now I realize I'm burning the fires of war here. Punk and metal have a tendency, at least as far as I've observed, to be a bit like Capulets and Montagues. Metal views punk as unstructured and overly political, while punk fans seem to believe that metal is reactionary, patriarchal, and irrelevant. If you think there's a winner in this debate then you are the true loser. In any case, both punk and metal have contributed much to the world of trash cinema over the years, and strangely, despite my tastes outside of the world of film, I've almost always ended up enjoying the punk movies more than the metal ones. Maybe it's just that punk has aged better than metal, generally speaking--I find a lot of early metal almost impossible to listen to, while classic punk is still pretty awesome. And a lot of that is perhaps due to the fact that a lot of punk is about seeking relevance, while metal is a lot about seeking thrills. While there is absolutely political metal, punk has tied itself to significant social movements and become a social movement in itself. Punk is one of the big musical faces of liberalism. And it stands to reason that a bunch of people who grew up in the same era where the VHS tape made home media infinitely more possible than it previously had been would be punk fans as well, as the '80s needed the genre's particular brand of cynicism. I'm just a wee bab, a product of the Internet, and as such my music interests are whatever they happen to be on a given week. But nonetheless, I found a lot of punkish joy to be found in David Markey's miniature opus, Desperate Teenage Lovedolls.
The titular Lovedolls are an up-and-coming teen punk band that, at the film's outset, has faced the minor setback of one of their members being sent to a mental institution after a drug-induced breakdown. While in this place poor Alexandria is chained to a bed and forced to watch a video loop of a man standing in front of an American flag chanting, "Have my kid," in a scene that plays like a weird '50s domestic version of Clockwork Orange. Alexandria escapes the hospital with the aid of her trademark guitar and the Lovedolls are back in business. After getting back on amphetamines, Alexandria helps her fellow Lovedoll Kitty kill her abusive mom, who is, natch, played by a man in drag. They are approached by a sleazy agent who promises to help them make it big. He does, but the price is rape. So they dose him with a shitton of LSD in what is probably one of the most amusing tripout sequences I've seen in a while. Then, there is but one last menace to face: their immortal enemies, the She-Devils. Things get heavy when Kitty accidentally kills one of the She-Devils in a brawl. All things come to a head. And then...sequel?
Desperate Teenage Lovedolls best sets its punk atmosphere by refusing to lean in too heavy with its jokes. The movie's bulk is comprised of what are best described as "punk montages"; scenes of music, drugs, and youthful liberty standing in contrast to an opposing and opposite society. It indulges itself, certainly, especially with its naive earnestness in depicting drugs (life sucks so let's all do speed!), but overall it stays level-headed. The satire in the film ranges from authentic to cursory, and it all works. It's hard not to love a movie that features both the aforementioned TV loop, and the line, "I think I see Led Zep in you--I can do for you girls what God did for mankind!" (So, uh, subject them plagues and floods?) Stylistically and tonally, it bears some resemblance to I Was a Teenage Serial Killer, but I feel this movie is better made. It's subtler in its spoofs, and there's less "oh, this is just a movie"-type editing. Lovedolls is much more immersive, even if it meanders somewhat in viciousness and meaning.
There's a lot to laugh at in this movie, as I may have implied above, and for once it's something of a relief for the laughs to be intentional. The music exec who molests the girls mentions "making the Beatles do a reunion," and his shocking lack of familiarity with psychedelic drugs contrasts his position as a manager/agent, which I doubt is unintentional even if it's not lampshaded. And indeed, I really can't understate how amazing this trip sequence is, as it hasn't been since The Weird World of LSD that I've seen a cinematic freakout incorporate marionettes. Finally there's also a scene where a DJ places a record, sleeve and all, on the wrong part of a turntable. The music starts playing before the record starts spinning. Again, almost surely intentional.
As for the soundtrack, it's handled in a very unique way: it features plenty of punk, yes (admittedly not the best I've heard but still pretty good), but also a broad selection of public domain classical cues. I don't know what it is about Super 8 movies that attract these libraries cues, besides the obvious cheapness, but there's a certain rustic class added to the film by its employment of the same sort of music you'd hear in Weasels Rip My Flesh. Your ears will assuredly have a good time.
If I had one complaint, it's that the movie has one moment where it tries to make it seem cool to call someone a fag. Way to drop the Third Wave there, ladies. This is the unfortunate peril that queers like me must face looking back into the films of the 20th Century. Our suffering was considered "edgy"; our mockery, "radical." And it's still considered to be such. So fuck this movie for its casual homophobia. Thankfully it's just one line, and the movie is relatively inoffensive otherwise--as far as punk movies go, that is. If you want a look at punk rebellion circa the Reaganian tyrannies, then this is a perfect movie to go with. It's only 50 minutes long, but you're in luck, 'cause Lovedolls Superstar is a motherfuckin' 70, ya fuckin' bitch.
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