Friday, August 26, 2005

Don't call me whitey...

In a post on Shaft/blacksploitation film music at the excellent mp3 blog Moistworks, James drops this bit of dead-on film nerdery:
Personally, I'm more interested in a theory of Whiteslpoitation film.

I don't know exactly how one would begin to define such a genre, but I do know it would at some point suppose the following - off the top of my head:

A theme song by Randy Newman; some snappy dialogue about sex-fear by Nora Ephron; a good wife who walks around in wholesomely white panties played by Anne Archer; a sapless male character played by Aidan Quinn (because he's the male Anne Archer); John Travolta trying to dance like a black guy; Tim Allen trying to dance like a black guy; some cancer; a depressed person in a big house on the coast; speedboat chases; an acting debut by a country-western star; an expensive school christmas pageant; and a retard."

My additional suggestions:
  • The frat pack. It seems to me that a Whitesploitation film needs a tired Will Farrell cameo or Vince Vaughn doing, uh, a Vince Vaughn impression or (in the Defamer's words) "Ben Stiller running through a tire maze in short-shorts."

  • A score by Nancy Wilson.

  • A montage set to the most obvious Motown song possible, wherein Mother and children lip sync into hair brush/curling iron/etc.

  • A scene that goes something like this:

    A kitchen in a pleasant McMansion.
    LONG-LOST FRIEND (who has just arrived): Wow, this place is so... (long dramatic pause where you think she's going to say "nice" or "large") taupe.
    YUPPIE MOM: Oh. Thanks... I guess. Can I get you a Diet Snapple?
    LLF (ignoring her): What is that?
    YM: A banana hammock.

    Ho ho.
    And scene.

  • A stab at social relevancy involving how everyone in suburbia is medicated and how stifling that is and how that alienates "us."

  • Two words: Kevin Motherfucking Spacey.

  • Better: After the tragic, senseless death of (his son/the neighbor boy/Dakota Fanning) Kevin Motherfucking Spacey delivers an earnest-yet-forceful monologue where he implores us all to think about the golden rule whilst Sarah McLachlan plaintively sings on the soundtrack.


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