The era of the
Sexual Revolution unleashed a lot of ribald comedy, some of it culturally
relevant and some of it merely vulgar, so something on the order of If You Don’t Stop It . . . You’ll Go
Blind!!! was probably inevitable. A fast-moving compendium of crude
sketches, the movie essentially adds pictures to a bunch of naughty one-liners,
with most scenes lasting less than a minute. Barely any pretense is made of
appealing to female viewers, or for that matter anyone but straight dudes, so
women are largely portrayed as conniving, horny, or stupid. Similarly, shots of
naked ladies are prevalent. The production values are roughly that of a low-end
TV variety show, and the style is painfully broad, so the sum effect is numbing—any
glimmers of wit are obscured by the adolescent sensibility permeating the whole
enterprise. That said, things got much worse in the movie’s sequel (more on
that in a minute), so it’s only fair to mention that some bits are passable.
Consider the musical number in which underemployed hookers sing a tune with the refrain, “We’ve gotta get back on our backs!” Not brilliant, but mildly clever. Alas, most scenes fall short of that mark. A man runs screaming down a hospital hallway, followed by a nurse carrying a metal pot, so a nearby doctor exclaims, “Nurse Owens, I told you to prick his boil!” A gay man at a clinic complains that sex is “a pain in the ass.” A man in an elevator says to the woman ahead of him, “Ballroom, please,” to which she replies, “Sorry, I didn’t realize I was crowding you.” Taken separately, any one of these bits might be amusing in an I-hate-myself-for-laughing-at-this sort of way, but taken together, they’re exhausting. (The less said about the closing musical number, “Don’t Fuck Around With Love,” the better.) Most of the players are unknowns, though busty sex-flick regular Uschi Digard appears, as does second-rate Hollywood funnyman Pat McCormick.
Consider the musical number in which underemployed hookers sing a tune with the refrain, “We’ve gotta get back on our backs!” Not brilliant, but mildly clever. Alas, most scenes fall short of that mark. A man runs screaming down a hospital hallway, followed by a nurse carrying a metal pot, so a nearby doctor exclaims, “Nurse Owens, I told you to prick his boil!” A gay man at a clinic complains that sex is “a pain in the ass.” A man in an elevator says to the woman ahead of him, “Ballroom, please,” to which she replies, “Sorry, I didn’t realize I was crowding you.” Taken separately, any one of these bits might be amusing in an I-hate-myself-for-laughing-at-this sort of way, but taken together, they’re exhausting. (The less said about the closing musical number, “Don’t Fuck Around With Love,” the better.) Most of the players are unknowns, though busty sex-flick regular Uschi Digard appears, as does second-rate Hollywood funnyman Pat McCormick.
The diminishing-returns sequel Can
I Do It . . . ’Til I Need Glasses? again comprises brief sketches. Brief descriptions of a few sequences should paint the unappealing picture. A
chipper “story lady” reads the tale of Little Red Riding Hood, which culminates
with Red lamenting that the Big Bad Wolf wants to consume her flesh instead of getting frisky: “Jesus,” she wails, “doesn’t anybody like to fuck
anymore?” A guy walks into an IRS office wearing only a barrel, then walks out
naked. A husband answers his doorbell, greets a rapist, and calls to his wife,
“Honey, it’s for you.” A lengthy vignette featuring “The Lone Stranger and
Pronto” revolves around Pronto’s shocked realization that he must suck poison
from Kimosabe’s rattlesnake wound—which is located on the masked man’s penis. And
so on. Robin Williams shot scenes for Can I Do It that were not used in the
original release, but after he achieved fame, his footage was inserted for a
theatrical reissue and subsequent home-video exhibition. Even though Williams
never let decorum get in the way of a joke, it’s a bummer that Can I Do It endures in posterity as his
first credit.
If You Don’t Stop It . . . You’ll Go
Blind: LAME
Can I Do It . . . ’Til I Need Glasses?: LAME
5 comments:
I think 'Limp' would be a better rating in this case.
Please award yourself a slow clap, Guy.
And BTW, probably the most vulgar headline I ever wrote for a movie review accompanied my remarks on the meh Samuel L. Jackson remake of "Shaft." My headline was "Private Dick Goes Limp." It was fun to get away with that sort of thing while writing for alternative newsweeklies.
Huh. Never saw these, but the way I always heard the Red Riding Hood joke -- perhaps the teller improved upon it -- was that the Wolf says "Red Riding Hood, I'm going to eat you," and Red's complaint plays on the idea that she thinks he's referring to cunnilingus instead of the standard act.
Yeah sounds pretty Lame
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