Wednesday, February 10, 2010

The Babysitters (2007)

Directed by David Ross
Starring Katherine Waterston, John Leguizamo, Lauren Birkell, Louisa Krause
Rated R
USA

"We're going to hell, aren't we?"
"Yep."

First of all, as someone who grew up in the inner city, I suspect that these sort of hijinks are going on in the suburbs on a near-constant basis. I mean, why else would you move to the 'burbs? Anyway, like the equally factual Weekend with the Babysitter, this story begins with a seductive teenage sitter. Unlike that one, however - which ends with a gangfight between greasy mustachioed drug dealers and chubby motorcross hippies - The Babysitters goes in a much crazier direction.

Shirley (Katherine Waterston) is an obsessive-compulsive high school junior. Too mature for boys her own age and too bored to deal with her goofy friends, Shirley spends her free time babysitting for neighbors - and occasionally scrubbing their floors and rearranging their furniture while she's at it.

One evening she gets a ride home from Michael Beltran (John Leguizamo, in one of his less over-the-top performances), the father of one of the brats she sits for. They stop for an innocent burger on the way home, which naturally leads to making out in an abandoned train car a few minutes later. His wife doesn't pay attention to him (Cynthia Nixon - that might be the problem!), she's lonely and virginal, you know the drill.

Mike and Shirley develop a discreet sexual relationship. To mask his guilt, Mike pays her handsomely for every tryst. Eventually, she spills the beans to her excitable and possibly pathological best friend Melissa (Lauren Birkell), who wants in on the action.

Mike brokers a 'babysitting gig' with one of his buddies, Shirley takes a cut, and the downward spiral into debauchery begins.

Things start to go awry - imagine that - when Shirley recruits her baby-faced spazzoid friend Brenda (Louisa Krause). At first, Brenda doesn't even know sex is involved. But she gets up to speed pretty quickly. Then she goes rogue and recruits her younger sister Nadine (Halley Wegryn Gross), who start up a competing babysitter-prostitute ring.

Worse still - at least to Mike - Shirley starts 'babysitting' for other clients. He thought they were, you know, exclusive.

Shirley finds out what Nadine's up to and trashes the entire high school as a warning. Everybody gets the fuckin' picture. Then she devises a weekend getaway where all the dads in the neighborhood take off to some cabin in the woods to guzzle booze, smoke weed, snort coke, and fuck teenage babysitters. Who does Shirley think she is, Caligula?

By the way, finally, one hour in, Shirley takes her shirt off. Of course at this point, she's so poisonous, it's almost not worth it. Almost.

When Jerry (Andy Comeau) - the mustachioed asshole who owns the cabin - tries to doggystyle Brenda while she's puking in a sink - well, that's pretty much it for her. She quits, and Nadine starts her side-business bullshit again.

Shirley and Melissa head out to kill the bitch, but before they toss her off the side of the parking garage, The Babysitters lurches into its shocking - but entirely logical - twist ending.

I'll leave it for you to discover, but suffice to say, there's a lot of crying and puking involved.

One of the oddest mainstream releases in recent memory, The Babysitters is, at it's core, 70's style gutbucket sexploitation, a tawdry youth-gone-mad tale tailor-made for seen-it-all sleaze beasts. Strangely though, it never fesses up to what it is: the scuzzy, goo-covered underbelly of contemporary teen flicks like the Bring It On and American Pie series. Instead, it plays itself out deathly straight, like a particularly berserk Lifetime movie. Even Leguizamo, a notorious scenery-chewer, keeps a tight lid on his smirks and tics here, and the actresses - all relative unknowns confined mostly to TV dramas - never tip over into full-on camp, even though the script fairly screams for it. You start to wonder if perhaps you're supposed to learn some sort of lesson here, even if none of the characters in the film do.

Writer/director Ross previously wrote Lucky McKee's equally weird The Woods (2006), another film about teenage girls in peril - albeit a supernatural, witchy sort of peril - so this is well-worn material for him, and indeed, the characters in The Babysitters are all fully-fleshed out people. They just make some seriously ridiculous choices. The idea of four teenage girls from upper middle-class families willing to form a fucking babysitter hooker ring is so far-out that this almost has to be a satire. That is, unless all my suspicions about the suburbs are true.

Either way, this is a great film, jaw-dropping, queasy-funny, and in it's own quiet way, as outrageous and subversive as any modern-day sex n' splatter shockfest.



- Ken McIntyre

Weekend with the Babysitter (1970)

Directed by Don Henderson
Starring Susan Romen, George Carey, Luanne Roberts, Annik Borel
Rated R
USA

"I've been reborn. Look, my apricot fag shoes!"

Tom "Billy Jack" Laughlin, under the nom de plume Don Henderson, directed three films in rapid succession from 1969-1970. Two of them were about teenage babysitters who seduce a rich, wrinkly codger. Although the girls were different in the two movies, the codger was not: George Carey, who coincidentally wrote and produced both films, handled the love-making duties. The first, The Babysitter (1969), was shot in black and white and starred Patricia Wymer as "Candy Wilson". Weekend With the Babysitter, on the other hand, was in color, and starred Susan Romen as "Candy Wilson". Who was this mysterious Candy Wilson? Was she a real-life teen temptress that vexed both Carey and Laughlin enough that they were forced to exorcise their inner demons on film? Or did they both just enjoy the same masturbatory fantasy? And why make the same film twice?

I don't know what any of this means, and perhaps I never will. So let's just roll the film and see what happens.

It's a tale of ordinary suburban madness. Jim Carlton (George Carey, RIP) is a frustrated film director with a neglectful, pill-popping wife named Mona (Luanne Roberts, The Psycho Lover, Female Fever), who he can no longer connect with. One night their foxy go-to babysitter Candy (Susan Romen) shows up on the wrong night. Jim tries use this opportunity to take his wife out to dinner, but she insists on going to visit her mother and splits with the kid. Jim plans on paying Candy for her trouble and sending her off, but then she starts reading one of his scripts - a film about turned-on teens - and goofs on the lame dialogue. She offers to show him what the 'kids today' are really like, and after popping a couple martinis, they head out the local bar to hang out with Candy's groovy friends.

Meanwhile, Mona drops the kid off at mom's and heads over to her dealer, an ascot-wearing putz named Rich (former cowboy star James Almanzar, RIP). She hands him $10,000 - which probably would have bought all the heroin in California in 1970 - and waits patiently for her fix.

He splits for a couple hours and makes her sweat it out, and then tells her she's not getting the stuff unless she gives him Jim's boat. What a dick this Rich is.

As the weekend rolls on, Mona gets mired in a Mexican drug smuggling ring while her husband falls head over heels for the teenage babysitter. He smokes weed for the first time, she takes him out to some moto-cross races, and they make sweet 70's love by a crackling fire. He even flies her in his private plane to his cabin in the snowy mountains.

While Jim and Candy drink milk in bed and wrestle, Mona finds herself slipping into a far darker sort of lost weekend. After scoring a big pile of heroin from some shifty Mexican dealers, she shoots up to take the edge off.

Rich comes by lookin' for action, but when she attempts to rebuff him, he forces her into a girl-girl tryst with his girlfriend Doris (French beauty Annik Borel, Blood Orgy of the She Devils).

Doris snorts coke while receiving oral favors from Mona. Good times!

After showering off their love juices and flying back to reality, Jim and Candy say their goodbyes. No big deal, daddy-o. "Hey man, we swung," shrugs Candy. At least they vow to stay friends.

Jim goes to work and finds Smitty, the guy from the marina, waiting for him. Smitty tells Jim the coast guard was sniffing around his yacht - and that his wife is still out there on it, somewhere. Jim and Smitty pile back into Jim's plane and buzz around looking for the missing boat.

Meanwhile, a bloody mutiny sparks up in the yacht. Mona is forced to commander the craft and drive the smugglers to the pier. They scramble to get away, but Jim's called in Candy's motocross gang to head them off at the pass. It all ends in a Hawaii 5-0-esgue dust-up between the clean-living bikers and the dirty drug dealers while an acid-fried brass-rock band wails away relentlessly on the soundtrack.

And what about Jim? Does he choose his nubile hippy babysitter, or his beat-up, money-grubbing junkie wife?

Which would you choose? Well, Jim goes the other way.

Although Weekend With the Babysitter is surprisingly sedate, given it's sleazeball predecessor, it still hits all the right 70's b-flick notes: wonky acting, misguided 'drug abuse' scenes, phony psychedelic tunes, casual racism, a skinny heroine with teacup boobs, a few splashes of blood, and a last-minute stab at redemption. Don Henderson apparently worked out his seductive babysitter fetish with this one, because he followed it up with the Satanic horror-romp The Touch of Satan.

Susan Romen, whose frequent line-flubs and faraway eyes were perfect for this drowsy role, disappeared immediately after. It's a shame, because she could have carved out an amazing career as a go-to heavy-lidded, frequently topless hippy goddess. Which she might actually have done, just not in the movies.

Drop us a line, Miss Romen. Let us know what's, you know, up.

- Ken McIntyre

LinkWithin

Related Posts with Thumbnails