Meet the
Applegates
(1990)
(SPOILERS) A
good few Michael Lehmann movies are probably best forgotten, but his first three
are not among them. The in-betweener, Meet
the Applegates, passed virtually unnoticed, missing out on the acclaim that
greeted Heathers and the (undeserved)
infamy reserved for Hudson Hawk. It
has remained in an off-the-radar state, bereft of even a DVD release, making it
something of a highly prized cult movie. Applegates
is a broad, rambunctious satire of the American way of life, picking at the corrupting
influences lurking beneath the idealised surface. Lehmann’s energy and glee at
the task in hand are irresistible, and so he delivers a fully-formed picture
that might be mistaken for the absurdist progeny of Joe Dante and John Waters.
No one
could accuse Meet the Applegates of
subtlety, but that’s part of its colourful appeal. This is a one-joke set-up of
a movie, making the well-sustained results all the more surprising; it only
peters out when required to gather in its threads and cobble together a
conclusion. Lehmann’s only screenplay credit (with Redbeard Simmons, who wrote
his 1985 short, Beaver Gets a Boner),
he may well have been inspired by the savage black comedy of Daniel Waters’ Heathers screenplay. If Applegates is unable to ascend to those rarefied
heights, it takes similar satisfaction in disassembling readily accepted mores
and values.
The
eccentric plot follows a family of Brazilian Cocorada (praying mantises)
dispatched to suburban Ohio on a mission to sabotage a nuclear power station
after their habitat comes under threat; insects being the ones to survive a
nuclear catastrophe, of course. Ostensibly Applegates
bears an eco-theme, then, but Lehmann and Simmons are far too anarchic to
burden themselves with po-faced moralising. The makeshift conclusion finds the
threat (to humans) eliminated, with Ohio residents visiting the Applegates in
the jungle; “a little radiation did seep
through the cracks” we are told, as the trio remove their headgear to
reveal copious hair loss. The conservation theme is a trigger, but becomes
merely one of a handful of targets, swiping at the ugliness festering beneath the
veneer of traditional values.
Usually
reserved for role reversal morality plays involving the interrogation of
prejudice or ignorance, the picture embraces comparative perspectives to
humorous effect, as we see the mistreatment of insects through the Applegates’
eyes. This culminates in a lynch mob (“Let’s
give these insects a taste of human justice!”) where the only defender is
Roger Aaron Brown’s African American sheriff (“Bug lover!”) Most definitely not subtle, then, which also applies
to next door neighbour Greg Samson (Glen Shadix, Father Ripper from Heathers and Otho in Beetlejuice), a bug exterminator who
masks a vindictive edge beneath his welcoming smile (“We take Sunday off to honour God and the baby Jesus”; he accuses
the Applegates of being Satanists, communists or just plain evil).
The
Applegates, Richard P (Ed Begley, Jr) Jane (Stockard Channing), Sally (Camille
Cooper) and Johnny (Robert Jayne), accompanied by Spot the dog/bug, have
assumed their identities through studying Janet
and John books, diligently ensuring they meet precise average statistics as
verified by Family Bazaar magazine. They’re the model American family, and thus
highly prone to moral debasement.
Richard
goes to work in the power plant (“You
come glowingly recommended”), where he receives initially unwanted
attention from secretary Dottie (Savannah Smith Boucher); inevitably, the faithful
husband embarks on an affair, leading to a particularly outrageous liaison
accidentally broadcast across the power station floor (“Ride the baloney pony, baby! I’m going to splay you, like a Cornish
game hen!”)
His
infidelity is just part of a mounting testament to the general
untrustworthiness of (human) men. In the most protracted, near-the-knuckle
subplot, Sally is date-raped by Greg’s jock-cock son Vince (Adam Biesk), discovers
she is pregnant, and becomes a lesbian (“I’ve
learned a lot in the last few weeks. Like all men care about is pussy”; “Ain’t that the truth!”, concurs her
mother). Following which, her new-born is stamped on by the horrified reps from
Family Bazaar.
At every
turn of confronting human depravity, cocooned bodies pile up in the Applegate
house (in contrast to the humans – “Sally,
keep away from that boy. His father’s a killer”, Dick instructs of Vince –
the Applegates don’t actually kill anyone), either as a consequence of
revealing their true form or due to financial pressures. Sally bugs-out during
Greg’s assault (“Stop, or I’ll make you
stop”), and, having taken in teen pregnancy, Lehmann and Redbeard naturally
want to cover drug abuse too; Johnny quickly becomes a stoner (“Hand me that roach, man”) and transforms
during a particularly heavy session. Before long, the model children have
become rude, disrespectful, engaging in acts of larceny and estranged from
their parents; they’re the most normal family in America.
Jane
becomes addicted to shopping (“Its been
awful, Opal Withers made me wallow in decadent consumerism”), equipped with
a credit card (“Another vile human custom”),
the home shopping network and no willpower to stop (she proceeds to shift
blame, not unlike Johnny’s excuse for becoming an addict; “It wasn’t my fault. They made me take drugs and I couldn’t stop”). Jane
then resorts to robbing convenience stores and eventually has to stuff the
sheriff in the basement when he catches her. Dick does the same thing with
Dottie (behind the drinks cabinet) when she threatens blackmail over their
affair; it’s only by taking off in an RV and getting back to nature that they
re-connect with their true, unsullied insect-inside selves.
Lehmann and
Simmons make great capital from a string of bug-human perspective gags, and
again, it’s surprising how consistently they land. From dietary habits (“Johnny, eat some more sugar. You’re still
growing”; desert is a particular treat as, “I happened to find a pile of rancid trash in a dumpster beside the 7-Eleven”),
to pornography (Dick inspecting insect pictures in a copy of Scientific
American), to activating a sonic bug repellent at a fete (Dick and Jane are the
only ones who hear it, of course), to a series of one liners; “Blubbing like a day-old larva”; “You know, I used to think you had queen
potential, you little piss-ant”; “Who
knows what filthy human diseases you’ve picked up”; requesting, as Sally goes
into labour, “Warm mud and a bag of
fertiliser”.
Much of the
picture’s success is down to the performances. Electric car proselytiser Begley
Jr and former Greaser Channing are
absolute perfection as the initially adoring couple, hatching out their
characters’ less respectable sides with infectious relish, culminating in Jane
smashing a bottle over Dick’s head (“What
did I do, you crazy bitch?”) Jayne and Cooper (who appears to have retired
from acting) are also very good; all involved exactly get the heightened tone
Lehmann is aiming for. This is a world next door to Dante and Burton’s offbeat suburbias,
just somewhat coarser.
The bug designs are appealingly exaggerated too, from
camera point-of-view shots with dangling feelers and arms, to full puppets
(there’s even a Thing-esque
transformation for Spot when Johnny forces him to inhale).
As noted, Lehmann
and Simmons were evidently taking a leaf out of Heathers’ book in pointing out predilections for parochialism and
bigotry. In particular, casting doubt on the jock’s masculinity is a direct
steal (“Do you think there might have
been any homosexual activity?”), while Shaddix is used to spout unsubtle
and intemperate views in both. In both too, shows of support over traumatic
local events are organised; the townsfolk decide to put on a musical in aid of
the vanishing residents, People are Neat,
all about “peace, love, brotherhood and
the free market system”.
The movie’s
trump card is casting Dabney Coleman as the antagonistic, military-minded leader
of the mantises. This kind of character is preferably used in small doses, and
Lehmann knows Coleman needs only to open his mouth to get a laugh. As Aunt Bea,
the moustachioed queen of the Cocorada colony, Coleman gets many of the best
lines, and the best frocks. Calling a builder who pinches her arse “You homo sapien scum”, then reflecting “Oh nothing, nothing. Just, er, some asshole
just tried to rape me”, being ignored while hitchhiking (“You cocksucker!”) or, battered but not
bowed, wheel chairing into the distance during the end credits (“Yeah, get a job pal”, she instructs an
approaching beggar), Coleman is an instant win.
Admittedly,
Meet the Applegates rather goes off
the boil during the last 15 minutes or so, ironically when Aunt Bea shows up to
take control, but it’s brief and pacy enough (at under 90 minutes) that it’s
never in danger of outstaying its welcome (see for yourself; a poor quality version can currently be found on YouTube). Most likely its exuberantly
scattershot approach would be tempered somewhat if it were made today, so
missing out on its unrepentant appeal; amid the crudity and zest there’s a lacerating
sharpness.
It makes
you wonder just where it all went wrong for Lehmann. Maybe it’s merely that the
satire game doesn’t serve its members well (Dante finds it hard to get a gig
these days); Lehmann’s last few pictures have been forgettable, and his most
recent was nearly a decade ago. Like many a director in the industry, he’s
opted for steady TV work, some of it on quality shows (Californication, True Blood,
Dexter), but it’s a shame his
once-distinctive sensibility, one that pegged him out as a potential Dante or
Burton, appears to have been doused.
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