In this installment of the How Can I Tell If I'm Really In Loveseries, Justine Bateman really comes into her own here, proving that she's not just an actress, but also a part-time divorce attorney.
"If you can have it up here, shoot for it." Wise words, Bateman, wise words. And what could be more irresistible than a soft, freckled lad condoning being a man-ho or "being practical"?
Answer: Justine's sisterly scolding, naturally.
Holy shit! Heidi took a break from playing acoustic guitar under the oak tree to film this nonsense?
One way to get out of a relationship: "Stay away from the person. Ignore them, if you will." But where, Alex, will you stick the wet raisin you call a penis? There are no loopholes, dude. Except cheating, of course, which Alex defines as allowing one to "change focus from one person to another." Did she actually buy that?
Kristen's a "cynic." And that's why she sits so far away from the camera.
"Me, do the laundry? I'm in love!" If Dr. Sol can dream up this retarded an example, you have to wonder if his patients would be the same people to get an HIV test administered by Bill Frist ("Have you cried in the last month?").
"When I'm with somebody I love, I feel good." I have a feeling that left on the cutting room floor was a clip in which this kid began to describe the grandest gesture of love as "cutting a hole in a box."
I wonder...if I were a student at a posh Los Angeles high school in 1986, could I, too, get someone to sneak into Bea Arthur's dressing room on the NBC lot...
In the fourth installment of the stellar, two-decade old PSA How Can I Tell If I'm Really In Love, Dr. Sol and friends explain that, contrary to popular belief, girls don't exclusively engage in sex in an ongoing quest for love. Not only do some girls, it appears, actually find they can be stimulated through their vagina, but often they, much like boys, are "looking for scams, too."
Dear Donovan,
I know that where you are (1986), it's probably not easy to be out in high school. However, take my advice and play asexual. Between the speech impediment, the sole earring, and the "Fonz" look, we both know where your ass is heading once you turn legal. (P.S. Be careful - Reagan's not going to talk about AIDS for another year, so educate yourself!)
Love, A Concerned Viewer
P.S. Also, if you didn't notice, you've got one those gay last names for a first name. Gay by default. Sorry!
I get that it was 1986 when this was filmed and that, as far as I've gathered from Saved By The Bell and every movie made before 2002, the Jock-and-Cheerleader-as-Most-Popular rules of hierarchy were in effect. But, come on, let's not get ahead of ourselves here, Angela You look like someone's long-single aunt who warns her adolescent nieces about "online predators." You don't catch the eye of anyone on the football field because, hey, getting with someone's mom is not cool unless she's hot.
"Nice ca-w!" So...yeah, I'm going to use that all the time now, okay?
In the name of all that is holy, can someone find this girl for me? All I've got is that her name is Alysa and in 1986, she attended University High School in Los Angeles, likely having emigrated there from Staten Island, and that she apparently gets hair and make up tips from Ray Charles. (Because he's blind and wouldn't know how to apply flattering colors and tones - that's the joke.)
Normally, I'd have some scathing words to provide regarding Dr. Sol's "stroke-face," but attention must be paid to the strikingly cute kid who clearly recognizes the very words that Sol seems to have pulled from his copy of The Idiot's Guide To Things Construction Workers In Cola Commercials Say About Women.
Back to Sol: "You can't have a conversation with an ass, even if it's a smart ass!" Oh, because "smartass" is to "smart ass" as "wise guy" is to "sassy pussy?" I think I get it.
Did you catch Justine shoo away the word "bullshit?" Between dressing like Paul Reiser and dressing down sex to being inevitably reliant on guys, I wouldn't be surprised if one Miss Mallory Keaton suggested to Tina Yothers that they spend some time alone, off camera "to study lines."
"If you still had your teeth and a bit of nose, you could just go, 'You, you and you, report to my room and they'd be there."
Seriously, if you're reading this and you were between the ages of 13 and 18 in 1986, please explain to me whether cognitive function and the speed of thought formation have both increased rapidly in the past 20 years or if Jason is a merely a mindless douche. I can only surmise that he is trying to get across the idea that high school girls prefer to sleep with football players. Otherwise, either the sweater's too tight or all the girls Jason likes prefer to date men with facial deformations. To-may-to, to-mah-to.
Eeeeeeyikes. I blame Shelley Long. (For everything, not just this. I blame Shelley Long for everything. Ever.)
Continuing my series from How Can I Tell If I'm Really In Love, I present the first of two "music videos" that appear on the tape. This ditty, sung by what sounds like 11 adolescent girls on a nasty sugar high, is complimented by a video of bizarre three-lettered terms/abbreviations that relate...to...sex....? There would be no logical reason for me to even try to decipher the jump cuts and sped-up material or the awkward choreography or the method by which someone concluded that a teenager wearing a giant print of "LOV" on their chest would spread the word on sexual precaution.
Here's to hoping that somewhere in California, there's a thirtysomething University High graduate who still asks to get it "ITB."
I begin Part II in the How Can I Tell If I'm Really In Love series with a pre-cursor, basically a formal introduction by those who will be guiding you, the confused and vulnerable teenager in 1986, through the tricky, sticky (ew, pun?) world of romance and sex. [Excuse the inky black spots that appear in the first few seconds of the video - my Internet accidentally soiled itself during the uploading process.]
Aside from the teenagers who make you wonder if being a high school student in LA in 1986 was, indeed, the worst possible time to be in high school, those here to lead you through the intellectual landscape that is Sex and Romance include Justine Bateman, her little brother, and a guy who would soon go on to give it to Mary Steenburgen (*shudder*).
And, oh yeah, did I forget about Sol?
Besides being batshit crazy,
the original stunt double for The Joker,
and quite possibly a child molester (although wouldn't that be ironic?),
Again, I make the case that, although I wasn't there, the concept of irony couldn't possibly have existed before the mid-to-late nineties if a man who looks like this...
...was selected to be regarded by an auditorium full of high school kids as "the 'cool' doctor/approachable professional." The D.A.R.E. program, I admit, felt quite ineffective (if not wholly retrogressive) when I was a kid, but How Can I Tell makes D.A.R.E. look like an intellectual boot camp.
Okay, so who's here to educate us on sexual politics? Sitcom stars, a witch doctor, and my homegirl, Alysa.
Keep up the good work, sugartits!
The first official segment I've clipped is about boys and why they will say or do whatever they must in order to insert their penis into a vagina. "Boys' Lines" is meant to both educate and empower the female viewer, to make her aware that there is, as Sol so nicely puts it, "no connection" between sex and love. (Nice. Kick 'em while they're down Sol...)
If the jump cuts weren't enough to already confuse you, the editor makes sure to take advantage of Ted's on-the-spot diddy, which is repeated many, many times. Perhaps it's when Ted strives for those bass notes that you really understand where he's coming from: he's been there, man! He had to fend off pussy like wild cougar! He knows these lines, ladies. And he's looking out for you! What's not to trust from this face?
Justine (who, it appears, added a layer while filming this scene in the waiting room of her gynecologist's office in Boca Raton) pulls out "The Little Black Book" in time to alert us as to what one might expect from a guy insistent on getting some vertical smiles before the night is over.
Apparently, Ted has one, too, although he appears to have written most of them himself, resulting in a much more sly, dirty read. Justine isn't having it, either.
Now...how did this mess happen?
"Okay, Laurence, we're going to do a low angle close up." "K." "Now, can you tilt your head down so we can get the overhead fluorescents to bounce off your greasy adolescent skin?" "K." "Excellent. One more thing: just mix up the gel in your greasy mullet and then fluff it out. Yeah, like that. Good job. Just let it kind of poke through from behind...right, like a tall collar. Nice." "K." "Okay, and now what's going to happen is I'm going to give you a signal. At that point, you're going to look directly into the camera and say, 'Baby, you're driving me wild.'" "K." "Can you do that for me, Laurence?" "K." ... "I mean now, Laurence. Can we practice that once?" "K." ... "Laurence?" "K." "Is he retarded? Does anyone know if he's retarded?" "Baby, you're driving me wild!" "Oh! Oh my God, he said it! Laurence, just do that one more time when I point at you, okay?" "K." "And bring out the speech impediment." "K." "Aaaaand...go!"
And magic was made.
Of all the characters in How Can I Tell, Sol remains a total mystery to me from beginning to end. As someone with
a doctorate degree - furthermore, as a medical professional in the area
of sex, romance, and adolescence - might Sol have missed the mark by
citing as an example of one way in which a guy might attempt to bed a
girl, "Say, honey, I reeeeally love you...but do you have a condom?"
Is there a context for such a question? And aren't we supposed to
applaud a guy who plans to use protection? Although it's not anything
I'd like to visualize, perhaps that's the motus operandi in the Gordon
household: mildly-worded seduction.
More over, the mocking tone he uses when playfully posing as a desperately horny man begging his girlfriend to let him "stay in for a minute" is enough to make me lower my head between my legs until everything settles. But following that up with a punchline as stale as "What am I, a microwave oven?" makes Dr. Sol Gordon a true pioneer in his field.
Seriously, who else could persuade an entire audience of teenagers to embrace abstinence simply by forcing into their heads the image of Sol Gordon's pasty genitals?
Sadly, I don't have that image handy, so instead I'll leave you with an image that should cheer you up, as you can congratulate yourself on not being in this picture (extra points if you're a girl who never had a bowl cut):
Today begins a multi-part series of entries about How Can I Tell If I'm Really In Love, a Public Service Announcement that dates back to 1986. After finding this gem hidden deep within the $3 bin at the hole-in-the-wall video store at which I worked throughout high school, life began to look different, smell different, feel different. At first I thought it was Lupus, but it totally wasn't. How Can I Tell taught me to be grateful for attending high school in a time when, unlike in the video, adults had more or less given up on the concept that reaching kids meant putting a spin on the stale, black and white verbiage of yesteryear and preaching in a "funky, cool" way that included graphics! and TV stars! and other kids talkin' about kids!
How Can I Tell If I'm Really In Love hearkens to a time when, as far as I can tell (I was but three years old at the time), irony was entirely absent. Otherwise, how would one explain the cast members introduced in this opening clip?
Justine and Jason Bateman, both undeniably adorable, are seated in the first of many "laid back" positions in what appears to be the waiting room of their family orthodontist. If you find their proximity to one another while prepared to discuss sex slightly skeevy, you won't believe the pregnant pauses and momentarily elongated eye contact to come. To be honest, it almost steers off road into Arrested Development territory.
Dina: Man-hating closet case, ready to stain the first vulnerable vagina with her fire engine red lipstick. Also, Vice President of Drama Club (she was the breakout in Pippin).
Alysa: Dear, sweet Alysa. I'm not sure if you had recently moved to LA from Staten Island or if you merely suffer from a severe speech impediment. Maybe a quarter of your brain is made of blueberry jam and styrofoam, I really don't know. But that of which I'm sure is that you, Alysa, are a gem. In a clip that repeats over and over and over throughout How Can I Tell (repetition, you will learn through this video, is a great tool of proselytizing), Alyse's come-ons never get old. With hair and make-up that says "$150 for two hours or the butt," Alyse might be my favorite part of the video.
Whoops, I spoke too soon.
Ted Danson is the resident "Cool Adult" here, illustrated by his unusual sitting position, legs dangled over the side of an armchair. Wanna talk sex? Start with Sam Malone.
Karen and Cassandra: Who split Loretta Devine in two and sent her back in time??
Don't bet on seeing Marshall again. He's one of a few Black guys who show up in the opening credits, never to be seen again. Whether or not The Disappearing Black Male Students actually attended University High School (or "Uni High," as spray-painted on screen) remains a mystery. Even if they did, they were probably too busy stealing or rapping for the shoot, another reason we're thankful to have Alyse in their place ("'Scuse me, could I have your num-buh?").
John and Steve: These fellas are How Can I Tell's resident douchebags, guys who equate love to "fun sex" and "ecstacy" when it's clear that the closest they've come to either involved stained tube socks and reruns of Logan's Run.
I understand that it's completely inappropriate to say so, but is it just me or does Sharon somehow encapsulate every mediated representation of an Asian girl in high school between 1970 and 1990, be it in a textbook, TV show, or film? Yes, I'm admittedly crazy and, indeed, my psyche is comprised almost exclusively of barnyard imagery and Talbots catalogs, but I really can't back down from this one. Perhaps it's the haircut or the vaguely resentful sneer, but, to me, it looks like Sharon knows she swaps her "L's" with her "R's" and doesn't need you to tell her!
Vu: Now that Williamsburg is riding the Ironic Mustache bandwagon into the ground, Vu could quite possibly be crowned King of MisShapes. Seriously, Vu would get so much hipster ass, it's ridic.
One of How Can I Tell's more perfect moments comes in this lightning-quick introduction of Christina, who not only can't hear the clear question of what love means to her (why would they include that?), but upon understanding, shoots back with, "Oh, happiness" like there's no possible alternative. The gal's a pistol.
Donovan: The producers had to correct him after his first answer to what love means was "Going to a Thompson Twins concert with my boy-toy, Henrik (he totally pays, of course) before scoring some sweetass blow and getting reamed in the back of my dad's pick-up. Then shaving Henrik's neck so that no one at his office gets 'offended.' And then doing some more sweet blow. That's love."
Barely five minutes in, and we've already covered Staten Island whores, Ted Danson, and incest. By the time you're done seeing the whole video, I'll have written a fucking encyclopedia.
Recent Comments