Just one week after that disappointing and maddeningly masturbatory self-indulgence called Jay and Silent Bob Strikes Back comes another well-pedigreed, utter waste of time.
It’s the unfortunately titled Jeepers Creepers, a sure sign of apocalypse now from executive producer Francis Ford Coppola. This one’s straight from the what-was-Francis-smoking file. Wherever you got those peepers, that’s some good shit, Francis!
“This is the most scary, stylish horror movie I’ve seen in years,” says horror maestro and apparently rare movie-seer Clive Barker on Jeepers Creepers‘ website. What movie Clive was referring to is left unclear.
Jeepers Creepers is one Judd Nelson, 164 breaks, and 986 spots short of a USA cable movie.
With the exception of a thoroughly embarrassed Eileen Brennan, this cast is so anonymous, every grocery bagger in L.A. called in sick on audition day.
Two college kids are driving through the middle of nowhere in a very old Chevy. No problem, this car is equipped with OnStar navigation – the kind that requires a sextant and a compass.
Jeepers comes to you from United Artists. To set the appropriate tone, UA hauled out the corpses of founders Mary Pickford, Doug Fairbanks, and Charlie Chaplin for the press junket. Said Doug, “We’re proud that the studio which innovated independent production is now innovating derivative crap. And on behalf of Charlie and Mary, I want to welcome Francis Coppola into the fiery furnace of Hell.”
After a long drag on a Lucky, smoke billowing out between her ribs, Pickford added, “And keep Chaplin away from those Olsen twins!”
So this guy and his sister are almost run down on the road by a creepy old souped up, heavily art-directed truck in a sequence that’s just as scary now as it was when it first appeared in Steven Spielberg’s Duel thirty years ago.
Naturally – against all better judgment and in accordance with every rule of dumb horror movies we learned in Scream – back they go to “investigate.” Hey kids, this is why God invented “the authorities.”
The guy falls down a creepy chute into a basement lined with dead bodies. Actually, they look more like dead mannequins. Since when does J.C. Penney have a backlot? Is this the outlet store? Are we in dollar days?? Do I not pay until 2002? Is this a sale or a sellathon??
The guy leaves his laundry in the car which is a bad idea because the bogeyman stops by to sniff his panties. I guess airplane glue is scarce in a town this size. “Looks like he was likin’ it, too,” says a very observant waitress who knows a walking corpse in rapture when she sees one.
Hoisting his panties aloft, our hero screams “And now he knows my name!” Evidently, his mommy pens “Darius” on all articles of clothing in case he forgets it. “What’s more, he knows I conserve toilet paper and eat an abundance of roughage!”
Since the Mayberry Police Department is too busy drying out Otis the drunk, our heroes rely on a psychic for help. Remember kids, a psychic is like CNN – it can’t save you, but at least you’ll die fully informed. “If you hear the song Jeepers Creepers,” warns Miss Cleo, “run! And do the same when you hear the new Michael Jackson tune!”
The bogeyman, who looks like Twisted Sister front-man Dee Snider run amok, carries a medieval ax which will come in handy in case the Spanish Inquisition ever invades the rural American middle of nowhere.
“Every 23rd spring for 23 days, it gets to eat,” says Miss Cleo. “Like Lara Flynn Boyle?” asks Darius. “Exactly!” says Cleo.
This is one of those movies where the phrase “let’s get out of here” is shouted dozens of times yet nobody ever gets out of anywhere.
So if the urge strikes you to endure Jeepers Creepers, just take this advice:
Let’s get out of here.
Photos Copyright ©2001 MGM/UA