WAKE N BAKE

In which Erin informs you of the best movies to blaze to

If you’re into observing holidays and making a theme day out of it, you might ask, “Erin, to what movie shall I blaze on this, the anniversary of our fair country’s independence?”  Well, my answer is none.  You should not be inside watching a movie on the Fourth of Freaken July.  (And you DAMN sure shouldn’t be reading this column right now.)  You’re supposed to be outside, swimming, grilling, and drinking beer–and your bud will only amplify your enjoyment of all of these activities. “Wahhh, but I’m from the ADHD generation, technology has made me addicted to visual stimuli, I can’t help it!”  First of all, marijuana is supposed to be one of the most successful treatments for ADHD, which a smelly pothead told me one time, so it is therefore true.  Secondly, FIREWORKS, YOU IDIOT.  They’re one of the most awe-inspiring visual delicacies available to humankind, and if you can find a hill or a roof or something, you’ll see clusters of these wondrous lights in all directions.  Tonight!  Seriously, the way in which Americans celebrate this holiday was TAILOR-FUCKIN-MADE for stoners.  Hanging out, eating, and zoning out to beautiful explosions in the night sky?  I’d give one of my fingers if it meant I could do that every day.  Fourth of July is just a super-special secret 4-20, one where the cops won’t specifically be looking for stoners, which enables us to hide in plain sight, in the sunshine, under the stars (I mean, as long as you can keep your shit together, obviously.)  Watching a film just doesn’t factor into such a glorious day.

Of course, it’s possible that you suck, and still think that this most excellent day calls for a matching movie.  Well, I thought about you poor saps for a little bit, and here’s what I came up with:

Stripes seemed appropriate because it’s got everything American–it’s a comedy about the military, it’s about mediocrity, and it features tons of pointlessly naked women (there’s even a rape joke somewhere in there!  Murrca!)!  It’s about two men (Bill Murray and Harold Ramis) who coast through life with few skills and no real ambition.  It’s about the Army being a stumble-upon spot for the directionless, rather than a career-destination for the patriotic.  It’s about a man who gives his girlfriend pizza that he has dropped on the ground.

John Winger (Murray) quits his job, has his car stolen, loses his girlfriend and therefore, his apartment, within the first fifteen minutes.  If that wasn’t bad enough, his friend Russell Ziskey (Ramis) then comes over and takes his last beer from him.  The exasperation with his former job, the grief over his losses, and the ennui of an unoccupied life leave John especially vulnerable to a television advertisement for the U.S. Army.  Even if I were to consider joining the armed forces, I would think long and hard about it, due to the strong possibility of things like physical and mental anguish, having my will broken, and, you know, having to kill someone or be killed in combat.  (Not to mention the complete joke that is our current veteran care system.)  But not John Winger!  In fact, it only takes him about four minutes to convince Russell to join him.  And so, after the recruiting officer is reasonably sure they’re not gay, two men with nothing to lose are put where they belong–on a bus to Fort Arnold for basic training under the ridiculous severity of Sergeant Hulka (Warren Oates.)

John and Russell are misfits from the start, with giggle-inducing results.  They experience difficulty in summoning forth the enthusiasm for following orders and crawling through mud–John especially can’t help but express his disdain through deadpan sarcasm and smug assholery (i.e., Bill Murray doing what he does best).  He has the misfortune of being just smart enough to be unimpressed by the theatrical self-importance of those in charge.  Of course, this doesn’t make John a smart person all-around–nobody really knows what John thought joining the army would entail, least of all John himself.  Then again, the Army never asked for the brightest bulb in the box.  There’s plenty of room for upward failure–just look at Captain Stillman (John Larroquette.)  Before basic training even begins, he is actually playing with literal toy soldiers and tanks, having a ball.  His barely-contained eagerness to whip the new platoon into shape stems from his being “anxious to see action.”  He can’t see past those fucking toy soldiers–war really is a game to him, and that’s how the Army would always have it, if possible.

Thankfully, that’s too absurd to happen in real life.

John, on the other hand, is not quite so simple-minded.  He may be a dumb jerk, but he knows how to catch flies with honey when he wants to.  So when the entire platoon thinks all hope is lost and that they’ll never be ready for graduation (which means repeating basic training), John Winger issues forth a rousing speech full of insincere bullshit and dubious American exceptionalism–“We’re Americans.  That means out forefathers were kicked out of every decent country in the world!”–and his efforts actually get the platoon on the commanding officer’s good side.  (I haven’t looked it up, but I feel like this speech is the reason behind Jeff Winger’s name on Community.*)  Maybe this man’s quick-thinking and urban-assault-vehicle-stealing joie de vivre will come in handy after all.  It does, mostly in cleaning up after his own selfish disasters.  But hey, turns out, taking responsibility for your own actions goes beyond the status quo!  Somebody decorate this man!

Of course, there are plenty of easy pleasures to be had in this film.  Murray and Ramis being themselves (duh,) a hilarious basic training montage, and the obligatory explosions.  (I should note here that they pretty much waste P.J. Soles’ abilities–in this movie, comedy is only for the menfolk, apparently.)  But Stripes really gets at what it means to be American.  It demonstrates that you don’t need discipline or skill or dedication to be a valuable American after all.  As long as you can talk or cheat your way out of anything (like, for example, an enemy capture), and make half-hearted attempts at basic decency, you’re a hero.  And we’ll always make it out on top, even if we’re not really the best.  We don’t have anything to worry about.  We’re Americans.

Until another country decides to flip our own script on us. Nahh, that’ll never happen.