by Flack » Thu Apr 29, 2021 7:17 am
The entire plot of 1984's Weekend Pass is laid out within the first minute of the film. Four sailors from the Navy have just completed basic training and received their first weekend pass, with which they plan to enjoy the sights, sounds, and tits of L.A. before they must return to base by Monday morning. Each of the four soldiers has a specific plan (and girl) in mind, but none of their stories pan out the way they had intended.
Of all the strange things to talk about, starting with the film's pacing might seem to be an odd choice; then again, it's so bizarre and lumbering that it sticks out above all. At the 3:30 mark, our four soldiers climb into a Jeep and begin cruising L.A. For the next three minutes we are treated to a jump-cut montage tour of the city played over the film's title track, the most generic of 80s tunes. The next piece of dialog is close to the seven minute mark, when one of the guys mentions he knows a great place for food and women. That place turns out to be "The G-String Club," a local strip club. Over the next seven minutes viewers are treated to at least three different stripper performances (each with its own song) with even longer stretches of dialog desert. This drags on until one of the sailors says, "man, you don't want one of these girls, you want a girl from Venice Beach!"
And so goes the slow pacing. For the next six minutes the guys wander Venice Beach, where one develops a crush on a local Aerobics instructor. From there our boys go to the aerobics center where they spend another few minutes exercising. Each of these locations begins with a montage that makes me wonder if the cinematographer had ever seen L.A. before. Or Earth. Every location-establishing montage is just a series of shots of random things. Look! A sign! A car! Some people! Another sign! Ten signs!
Slowly and muddily, we learn the four soldiers' plans. Along with the sailor who wants to hook up with the aerobics instructor, one has been set up on a blind date with the commander's niece, one wants to hook up with an old girlfriend turned music executive, and one wants to perform stand-up at a local comedy club. In case things are moving too quickly for you, at the half hour mark the guys pile into a the jeep and take another tour of L.A., this time at night, and we get yet another montage of neon lights and signs. Like all the others, it's long and serves no purpose.
Along the way, the soldiers encounter multiple detours. The group decides the nerdy soldier deserves a prostitute and so they order one for the hotel -- an Asian massage therapist named "Chop Suzi" from "Kimono Our Place." The "racist is funny" vibe continues as the one black sailor takes his three comrades to "the black side of L.A." to experience "some real soul food," only to be accosted by a former rival gang. "I thought we were being attacked by Zulu!" one of the white soldiers cries.
Eventually, all the guys' plans fall apart. The music executive has slept her way to the top and is more interested in making business connections than giving our soldier the attention he deserves, and the solider who went to L.A. to find an old flame found her shacking up with someone else. The most painful thread is the stand-up comedian's, who spends 15 minutes in the comedy club. Just like the initial strip club, we're treated to bits from half a dozen different stand up comedians doing their best material. For example, one lady deadpans into the camera, "have you ever looked at a booger? I mean, really looked at a booger?" That's better than the sailor's big joke, which is "What do you get when you mix a spaceship from Mars with a condom? An unidentified flying contraceptive!" He tells this joke four times in the movie. The only upside to the excruciatingly long scene is the club's MC Joe Chicago, played by Phil Hartman.
I'd be remiss if I left out the film's exciting conclusion, yet another dance number. This big party takes place in a club where all the women dress as aerobic instructors. Literally, every woman in the club is wearing skin-tight leotards, headbands, and leg warmers. Like every other setting, it's a million years too long. This time it's the nerdy sailor who meets up with his blind date, a nerdette. The two of them take their nerd glasses off and opine "why do they call us nerds?" before making out.
By the end of the film all four of the sailors' original plans have fallen apart and new ones have formed. Fortunately you won't be burdened with caring because not even the sailors seem to care. At the end they high five one another and literally say, "we came together, now we go our separate ways!" Another one adds "this weekend pass has expired" before the film ends in a freeze-frame shot like an old sitcom.
I hope every copy of this film along with these four sailors were on that submarine that sunk last week. Terrible, terrible, terrible.
The entire plot of 1984's [i]Weekend Pass[/i] is laid out within the first minute of the film. Four sailors from the Navy have just completed basic training and received their first weekend pass, with which they plan to enjoy the sights, sounds, and tits of L.A. before they must return to base by Monday morning. Each of the four soldiers has a specific plan (and girl) in mind, but none of their stories pan out the way they had intended.
Of all the strange things to talk about, starting with the film's pacing might seem to be an odd choice; then again, it's so bizarre and lumbering that it sticks out above all. At the 3:30 mark, our four soldiers climb into a Jeep and begin cruising L.A. For the next three minutes we are treated to a jump-cut montage tour of the city played over the film's title track, the most generic of 80s tunes. The next piece of dialog is close to the seven minute mark, when one of the guys mentions he knows a great place for food and women. That place turns out to be "The G-String Club," a local strip club. Over the next seven minutes viewers are treated to at least three different stripper performances (each with its own song) with even longer stretches of dialog desert. This drags on until one of the sailors says, "man, you don't want one of [i]these[/i] girls, you want a girl from Venice Beach!"
And so goes the slow pacing. For the next six minutes the guys wander Venice Beach, where one develops a crush on a local Aerobics instructor. From there our boys go to the aerobics center where they spend another few minutes exercising. Each of these locations begins with a montage that makes me wonder if the cinematographer had ever seen L.A. before. Or Earth. Every location-establishing montage is just a series of shots of random things. Look! A sign! A car! Some people! Another sign! Ten signs!
Slowly and muddily, we learn the four soldiers' plans. Along with the sailor who wants to hook up with the aerobics instructor, one has been set up on a blind date with the commander's niece, one wants to hook up with an old girlfriend turned music executive, and one wants to perform stand-up at a local comedy club. In case things are moving too quickly for you, at the half hour mark the guys pile into a the jeep and take another tour of L.A., this time at night, and we get yet another montage of neon lights and signs. Like all the others, it's long and serves no purpose.
Along the way, the soldiers encounter multiple detours. The group decides the nerdy soldier deserves a prostitute and so they order one for the hotel -- an Asian massage therapist named "Chop Suzi" from "Kimono Our Place." The "racist is funny" vibe continues as the one black sailor takes his three comrades to "the black side of L.A." to experience "some real soul food," only to be accosted by a former rival gang. "I thought we were being attacked by Zulu!" one of the white soldiers cries.
Eventually, all the guys' plans fall apart. The music executive has slept her way to the top and is more interested in making business connections than giving our soldier the attention he deserves, and the solider who went to L.A. to find an old flame found her shacking up with someone else. The most painful thread is the stand-up comedian's, who spends 15 minutes in the comedy club. Just like the initial strip club, we're treated to bits from half a dozen different stand up comedians doing their best material. For example, one lady deadpans into the camera, "have you ever looked at a booger? I mean, [i]really[/i] looked at a booger?" That's better than the sailor's big joke, which is "What do you get when you mix a spaceship from Mars with a condom? An unidentified flying contraceptive!" He tells this joke four times in the movie. The only upside to the excruciatingly long scene is the club's MC Joe Chicago, played by Phil Hartman.
I'd be remiss if I left out the film's exciting conclusion, yet another dance number. This big party takes place in a club where all the women dress as aerobic instructors. Literally, every woman in the club is wearing skin-tight leotards, headbands, and leg warmers. Like every other setting, it's a million years too long. This time it's the nerdy sailor who meets up with his blind date, a nerdette. The two of them take their nerd glasses off and opine "why do they call us nerds?" before making out.
By the end of the film all four of the sailors' original plans have fallen apart and new ones have formed. Fortunately you won't be burdened with caring because not even the sailors seem to care. At the end they high five one another and literally say, "we came together, now we go our separate ways!" Another one adds "this weekend pass has expired" before the film ends in a freeze-frame shot like an old sitcom.
I hope every copy of this film along with these four sailors were on that submarine that sunk last week. Terrible, terrible, terrible.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EmWCetWz6TM