Joe Bob Sez, Check 'em Out
If you're like me (and I hope, for your sake, that you aren't), you were once in love with Joe Bob Briggs. I don't know what it was -- the southern-fried prose, the winking racial and sexual slurs, the cowboy hat -- something about the man was just... cool. He exclusively reviewed bad movies, for god's sake (although I feel these days that I may share the same fate). His system of the 3 B's (Blood, Breasts, and Beasts) and gratuitous use of the suffix "-fu" are endlessly amusing, but no amount of hucksterism and "aw-schuck" window dressing can disguise the fact that this man knows his shit, and more so, knows how to write about it.

I grew up and fell out of love with Briggs and his articles, and he moved onto other, bigger things; after his success in syndicated newspapers, he had two successful national television shows that featured Joe Bob hosting the very same bad movies that had kicked his career into gear. I didn't see either of these, because I had no cable for about 8 years. Likewise, he had a regular stint on "The Daily Show" with the segment "Godstuff" (using his real name, John Bloom), which highlighted televangelist goings-on for the week. Again, I saw none of these, because I lost Jesus for about 18 years.

But now Joe Bob is back and he's got a new book in which he abandons his yokel persona and tries to tackle a very formidable task: giving his opinion on what movies are important. The results are surprisingly well-researched and not what you might expect... read on for my review.

The MOST Disturbing Thing?
The Price.

Charting Public Opinion (in regards to sex, violence, and Italian ripoffs)
What this book does more than anything else is give you a fresh look at the kinds of trends and tastes that our cinema-going public have flirted with over the past 80 or so years. Briggs covers the moral and political landscape of the time when discussing each film, and makes the argument of how each selection delivered something unique, fresh, and -- most importantly -- somehow neeced by US audiences at the time. The combination of innovation, boundary-smashing, and pure dumb luck are sometimes fascinating when considering the loyal audiences and staying power that some of these films have earned. For example, the fact that Jackie Chan was introduced to American audiences 18 years before "Rumble in the Bronx" was released is pretty telling of our acceptance of Asian performers. And how many people know the REAL history of the blaxploitation craze, and the fact that "Shaft", the most popular title associated with the trend, doesn't even remotely fit into the category? These are the films that spawned dozens of sequels ("The Texas Chain Saw Massacre"), ripoffs ("The Exorcist") and foreign imitators (in the case of "And God Created Woman", it's the US doing the imitating), becoming so refracted that oftentimes the films that started the crazes really bear no resemblance to the crazes themselves, and deserve a second viewing to revisit what they were really about ("The Cabinet of Doctor Caligari", for one).

The Movies
Briggs has served up a varied and palate-pleasing feast here, with everything from hygeine films to slashers to hardcore to westerns. True, all of the films seem to share the air of the lurid, whether it be explicit sex or excessive or gory violence, but there are also racial, sexual, and moral boundaries crossed. Among the "naughties" that hit it big are "And God Created Woman", "Deep Throat", and "Mom and Dad". Nasties include "The Texas Chain Saw Massacre", "The Wild Bunch", "The Exorcist", "Ilsa, She-Wolf of the SS", "The Curse of Frankenstein", "Blood Feast", and "Reservoir Dogs". The rest of the films, "The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari", "Shaft", "The Creature from the Black Lagoon", "Crash", and "The Drunken Master" (all far less exploitative than the others) are included because they represent a significant shift or innovation in tone, structure, or content.

The Bottom Line
In all, this is a fun, informative, and surprisingly thorough read (his candid discussion of various New York crime families in relation to the porn industry and "The Texas Chain Saw Massacre" could put him on some shit-lists). Again, I found the unexpected selection fresh and well-rounded, and as much as I loved the wisecracking Joe Bob persona (when I was 12), it's nice to see Briggs holding back and letting the stories tell themselves without too much interjection (although there are a few in there that are priceless). My only gripes would be that the list seems short for such a large (and pricey) book, and that there are waaaaay too few photos to merit such an elaborate design and pressing. It's nice to see the original posters, but they're spread across the fold, which is annoying unless you don't mind breaking your binding to get a good look. But I guess that complaining for more is not the worst thing, and we can only hope for a sequel, ripoff, or Italian imitation.

Buzz sez Check it Out.