#5
Post
by therewillbeblus » Mon Oct 11, 2021 11:08 pm
This was a far better sci-fi comedy than it should be in central conceit, but Basinger admirably sells the strong explosion of writer's room gags that explore cultural dissonance with creative perspective-taking. The kissing scene's use of eclectic media's presentations of various cinematic social engagement is hilarious, but the film keeps upping the ante, and I want to meet whoever combed the files to dig up all these old clips of propaganda for contextual jokes (the WWII-era explicit command for abstinence is a highlight). Still, most of what works is dependent upon situational humor that threatens typical 80s values, particularly masculine prowess. Aykroyd is far from machismo here, but the film's posturing at male impotence (literally so when Basinger demands more too soon post-coitus) is carefully yet quite directly delivered, and I can't imagine many audience members escaping this film without some personal discomfort in shock value, even if the belly laughs assist in digesting the layered content with distracting stimuli. Like domino, I also found myself gawking at Aykroyd's lightswitch-transformation from asexual dad to hypersexualized star-eyed vegetable. His tunnel-vision is funny and unnerving at once, especially for anyone who has experience becoming totally drunk on love, enough to temporarily blind huge pieces of our identity (can everyone raise their hands?)
The film refuses to be cruel and take this to any dark comedy territory, so it's a fun time capsule when viewed in today's zeitgeists of sex-positive feminism and #metoo's spotlighted objectification, messily clashing under these dated conditions as each party essentially manipulates the other with their own private wills, and ostensibly without an authentic desire to navigate a healthy relationship with the consent and comfortability of their partner. Is this film ultimately about the recognition of our inability to 'know' another, and perhaps even more disturbing (or admirably, and ironically, 'realistic'), a surrender from trying to bridge this gap at all, formulating a successful partnership around ideological customs out of contractual bargains for individualistic needs rather than striving for communally-intimate reciprocity. The naked presentation of these characters' efforts to remain on the surface instead of doing the deep therapeutic work is a satirical Reagan-era punchline, and also a brittle view of human nature regarding sexual politics, coated in silly tones to dilute its intentions. Placing an alien in the female role might convince some against this sociopolitical reading, but the fact that a sexless, innocent child is the only one with the skills to be sober to what's going on is telling, considering her lack of motivation for solipsistic power. This is a great fringe narrative about youth for this reason, demonstrating the loss of worldliness we all experience when encountering biological milestones and undergoing social conditioning that withers our trust, willingness, or capacity to part from our own subjectivity.
Of course, this isn't where the film winds up, but it takes magical intrusions (gravity-defying visual evidence for Aykroyd and the introduction of non-antisocial compassion for Basinger) to shake either 'adult' character from their self-serving spells of enforced will power and towards a personal conversation of compromise and needs-sharing! Can this not occur by any other means? The film is too fun to ask that question, but its subliminal currents suggest the query as fair game. I'll take the celebration-of-life's-simple-pleasures denouement though.
