We start out with
some mid-70’s promo title cards letting us know that some really swell
cinematic feature is headed to a drive-in near us, which gets me very excited
until I remember that all of the drive-ins around these parts were torn down
long ago. Then we learn that the movie has the thrilling title of “Zombie
Bikers From Hell”, a completely fascinating subject that any decent person
would want to know more about, and I start to curse the Dallas Zoning
Commission for letting all the festive drive-ins get turned into yet another
Walgreens or one of those shady money-borrowing places where you pay 8,000%
interest and have to sign over your house, your car and your slower-moving
relatives.
Then we pull back
from the movie-screen and find ourselves in an actual drive-in, with neat
little rows of cars and lots of people doing what we used to do at drive-ins,
which is everything but actually pay attention to the movie. Folks are running
all over the place and little travelling waitresses are moving from car to car
and taking orders, presumably orders involving all of that glorious movie
junk-food that had no nutritional value whatsoever but sure tasted good when
you shoved it in your mouth. Then some more words splash on the distant movie
screen and we learn that the Neon Trees are starring in this lovely slasher
film about the un-dead.
Oh? We need to
see what’s going with that, please. And pass the bucket of butter with bits of
popcorn floating in it. You can’t really enjoy a drive-in movie unless you are
endangering your cholesterol levels.
I guess the
cameraman heard our desires, and we zoom back in on the movie screen. The Trees
have just arrived somewhere and they are piling out of a van, then they head
into a cabin in the woods. (Right away we all know that they are going to die,
because killer zombies often frequent remote housing made of wood.) Oh wait, we
just backed out of the screen again, so we can focus on one of the parked cars
where the Trees also have been cast as people watching the movie. They are
piled in a vintage car that most people can’t afford these days, yet another
sign that if you really want to have nice things you have to be in a rock band.
Those guidance counselors in high school were lying to you.
We get even closer
to the parked car, because it’s time for lead singer Tyler to kick off the
vocals of the song, and he does so, whilst gripping the steering wheel in a
manner that indicates he might have had a bit too much caffeine recently. Then
we start jump-cutting all over the place, back and forth between the actions on
the screen and the actions in the giant parking lot, and there’s suddenly a lot
of information to process. I’ll try to report everything, but I’ve just watched
the latest episode of The Walking Dead
and I’ve consumed an award-winning amount of beer, so this will be a challenge.
Here goes.
Tyler is billed
as “Tyler Trash” in the movie (a startling decision that’s really not going to
play well on the Internet), one of the band members is playing “Cutter Chris”
in the movie as well as Anthony Michael Hall circa 16 Candles in the real world, another band member is “Branden Blood” (zombie world) and
Sal Mineo (circa that one time he grew a beard) in the parked Trees car, and
finally we have the drummer as “Elaine Evil” (potential zombie snack) and the lone girl in the Trees
car who is either going to get really lucky tonight or learn some shocking
truths about her fellow car occupants.
Rounding out the
cast is an actress playing the role of an Over-Worked Carhop who likes to wear
heart-shaped sunglasses and bite on pickle spears. (I tried googling the name
of the actress, but the results were a little confusing, because there’s so
much carp on the Internet, so I’m not going to sign anything official or make
any kind of pinky-swear.) Carhop Girl will eventually prove to be a critical
element in the video, much like the red and blue pills in The Matrix, but we don’t know that yet. Right now she’s just the
Lady Who Brings Deep-Fried Gifts.)
So anyway, on the
screen, the Trees are giving an impromptu concert in the Eventual Cabin of
Death, because if you’re in the middle of nowhere you might as well harmonize
while you wait for something interesting to happen. Tyler is whipping his
microphone cord around with a frenzy that makes it very clear that you don’t
want mess with him when it comes to the dominant role in a sexual relationship,
the zombie bikers are driving down dusty roads and looking a bit ornery about
things (perhaps if they actually bathed they wouldn’t be so angry?), and the
other band members are attacking their instruments like this is their one
chance to make Simon Cowell and his omniscient t-shirt approve of their
performance.
In the drive-in
parking lot, we have shots of car occupants either watching the movie with
gusto or interacting with their neighbors as if the movie didn’t exist. (Hold
up, who’s that one guy with the great eyebrows and the shiny teeth? Is he
single?) Then we have a bit where the Trees in their car are doing some interesting
hand-choreography in some type of competition with three ladies in a nearby car
who are stylized to look like factory workers and lounge singers from the
1940’s. It’s like the “born to hand-jive” sequence from Grease, that movie where 30-year-olds pretended they were in high
school and John Travolta wore running shorts that came up to his nipples.
We go back to the
movie screen for a bit, where the band is still performing and managing to
avoid death by smelly un-dead bikers, then we’re back in the lot where lots of
people are making poor little Carhop Girl and her Lolita sunglasses run all
over hell, schlepping nachos. Screen again, where we get a close-up of Tyler
shoving his face at the camera in a way that might indicate some excessive
voltage in his microphone cord. (Or maybe he had some risky sushi for lunch?
You swallow a tainted piece of yellowtail and you’ll definitely vibrate.) Whatever
the case, he is very excited about
singing this song, and you have to respect his enthusiasm and dedication to his
craft.
More shots of
hard-working Carhop Lolita delivering processed foods to people with no purpose
in life.
Then we roll into
a bit where several carloads of people are doing more hand-choreography based
on the “it started with a whisper” bit of the song, with folks placing one
manicured finger against their lips and shimmying in tandem. It’s actually very
cute, and I briefly contemplate getting all the folks at my workplace to do the
same thing, but then I remember that this is Texas and rednecks will pull a gun
on you if you exhibit any type of song-based rhythm. (I still scribble it on my
Bucket List, though. Might be able to work it in at a later date.)
The choreography
goes on for a while, looking even cuter and making me wish I had friends who
would do symmetrical things with me in public places, even if it involves
nudity. Then we cut to a scene with Carhop Jezebel flirting with a Nerdy-Guy in
his car. Jezebel is hot enough that she can clearly snap her fingers and have
17 boys sniffing around her ankles, so we don’t know why she’s interested in a
lower-shelf selection. But who knows, love works in mysterious ways, especially
if the smell of stale popcorn is in the air.
We have another
montage of happy people doing the hand-jive and various others jives. I don’t
know where this drive-in is located, but it’s obviously not in a place where
elected officials are Republican, because they don’t put up with happiness or
dancing.
Then we’re back
to Carhop Seductress, as she leads the Dweeb to a very private area of the
drive-in (which appears to be right outside the bathrooms, so perhaps “private”
was not the right adjective). Suddenly, Carhop Yum-Yum turns into Carhop
Succubus and poor little Dweeb Boy ends his life without ever having had actual
sex. It’s tragic, really. But we’ve got two minutes left in the video, so screw
him.
Back to the movie
on the screen, where The Trees are continuing to make music whilst the Biker
Zombies run amuck and refuse to have any fashion sense. The stumbling Bikers
eventually find The Trees’ van outside the Shack O’ Impending Death, sniff
something in the air that gets them aroused (the smell of the ink on record-sales
receipts?) and they stagger off toward the cabin that is stuffed with fresh
meat and musical performers, intent on a smorgasbord where etiquette and the
proper use of eating utensils is not really important.
Then we have a
fun bit where the song completely stops, creating a nice little dramatic moment
where the rude zombies bang on the door of Casa Muerta and the band members
pause to consider who might have ordered pizza at a really inappropriate time.
In a moment of not-thinking, Tyler runs to the door and whips it open,
revealing a really old cast member of Braveheart,
with blue face-paint and such. (I don’t know when the zombies had time to stop
by a rural location of Elizabeth Arden, but this somehow happened.) Braveheart dude snarls menacingly and
all hell breaks loose as the zombies pour in through the front door and various
poorly-fortified windows.
So now we have a
nice psychological moment where Tyler smashes a bottle on the head of one
member of the Blue Man Group, and then he decides that saving the rest of his
band members is really not worth the calisthenics and the possible ripping of
expensive couture. He quickly scurries out the front door, leaving the rest of
his supposed musical family to face the wrath of un-dead people with no social
skills. (And those band members best remember who ran for Jesus at a really
awkward moment when it comes time for the next round of contract negotiations.
Just sayin.)
Meanwhile, back
at the drive-in, the various cars of rhythmic people are continuing to be
choreographic and happy while people are being eaten on the screen. (This is a
very sad commentary on the state of American values. Then again, so is the fact
that Michele Bachmann continues to be re-elected.) Just to make sure that we
understand that people are seriously jacked-up in the head, we get to watch
Carhop Death-Girl lead another victim into her Sanctuary of Sucking, this time
a jock-type who learns the true meaning of taking one for the team, as he and
his letter jacket get annihilated.
Back on the
screen, Tyler is running like he just realized that he’s in a red state where
there are no laws to protect someone who happened to be born with a musical
orientation. The rest of the band, still trapped in that cabin where they
probably won’t get their deposit back after this
mess, is being systematically gutted by the Mean People Who Refuse to Die, otherwise
known as The Tea Party.
As Tyler
continues to run to wherever on the screen, we get snippets of Drummer Elaine,
looking very “Willow on Buffy”, trying
valiantly to save her life, but there’s really only so much you can do with a
microphone stand and a cute hairstyle. This is followed by snippets of Carhop
Death-Bringer luring another victim to her restroom-adjacent killing field,
this time in the form of a hot guy who really knows how to wear a muscle shirt
but doesn’t have a clue about waitresses who can transform into demons if you
don’t leave a big enough tip.
Back on the
screen, we have a quick bit where Tyler is still performing with his band,
despite the fact that he has already high-tailed it elsewhere and the rest of
the band members have become buffet choices at an all-you-can-eat diner. Then
we cut to Fleeing Tyler on a messy dirt road that he wouldn’t be on if some
video director hadn’t insisted on realism, where a van just happens to drive
up, offering some roadside assistance. And, looky there, the van is being
driven by Carhop Lolita, with her shoving open the passenger door and beckoning
for Tyler to join her. And he does, with the van driving off into the sunset as
they head toward a lawyer’s office so they can collect the insurance on all the
deceased people in the video. Who apparently died because they talked too much.
(It started with a whisper…)
Click Here to Watch
this Video on YouTube.
