1989 Directed by Bob Balaban
Michael is a young boy living in a typical 1950s suburbanite home... except for his bizarre and horrific nightmares, and continued unease around his parents. Young Michael begins to suspect his parents are cooking more than just hamburgers on the grill outside, but has trouble explaining his fears to his new-found friend Sheila, or the school's social worker.
Skip Lievsay Laura Civiello Philip Stockton Rick Dior Harry Peck Bolles Eliza Paley Neil L. Kaufman Gail Showalter Brian Eddolls
Pfui Teufel! - Daddy ist ein Kannibale, Moji rodiče, Pfui Teufel, Daddy ist ein Kannibale, Hús a húsból, Pranzo misterioso, 페어런츠, 吃人爸妈
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I went in expecting some sort of Serial Mom kitschy horror comedy, and what I got was a disturbing, bleak and uneasy film. Randy Quaid has never been so terrifying.
Parents!! Who didn’t wonder if their parents were secretly up to no good at some point?! I know I did! In fact, in spite of my mother basically being my best friend, I was convinced at one point that she was secretly an escort. The truth was that she was a business exec in a world full of men and she was tough enough to make it in a disgustingly male dominated world, but the child mind is what it is and, for a short while, I was picturing her in a much different light.
Anyway, this is yet another movie where I very specifically remember seeing the VHS box art on display all the time at my beloved neighborhood video…
Okay, we get it boomers, your folks were repressed psychos, that's why you spent the entire year of 1968 pantsless.
Hooptober 4.0 - 2017 - Film #3
When I saw in the credits that Angelo Badalamenti was responsible for the orchestral score I thought to myself, well something must not be right behind the white picket fences and under the carefully manicured lawns of these suburban households. With parents being situated somewhere between Blue Velvet and Twin Peaks, I realised that Badalamenti must have been the go to guy for composing the soundtrack of disquietitude and dread that pervades otherwise seemingly normal family homes. Interspersed with the bright poppy 50s tunes of Dean Martin and The Big Bopper, this film is like the odd bastard child of a jitterbug and some kind of danse sinistré.
The kid at the centre…
What a quirky and colorful little romp through 80s wacky tobaccery. Oddly charming yet dark in tones Parents was a fun detour through crazy town.
I think I expected this to be more campy but I was surprised to see how dark and eccentric it was. Loved all the surreal imagery and nightmare sequences. And those performances from Quaid and Hurt were on point dang! You guys creepy! What a hellscape they created for poor little Michael! Boy gonna need someone to talk to after all that!
I was also vibing with the settings. Something magical about those 80s films that take place in the 50s. Stand By Me style. Extra lively with exquisite pastel decors. I was expecting (hoping)…
A Balabanian slice of Lynchian small town underbelly. Parents is quite good, and a cool edition to the new Vestron blu library.
Calling this a pitch black comedy doesn't cut it. There's a material called Vantablack (Vertically Aligned carbon NanoTube Array), which absorbs 99.6% of light. It's uncomfortably black. Three dimensional objects coated with Vantablack appear to have no discernible surface features. They just appear to be a black void in space. A pure black silhouette. Bob Balaban's Parents is darker than that. The sense of creeping dread is almost overwhelming, and Randy Quaid seems impossibly creepy.
Parents expertly captures the essence of childhood fear and vulnerability. Childhood is a time when the world seems incomprehensibly vast, and filled with dark corners that hide unfathomable terrors. A time when fear is more primal and more acutely felt. We fear the unknown more…
"You don't look like me,
You don't act like me,
You hate me.
Well, you know what?
I'm not so crazy about you either!"
I was raised by 2 southern-fried parents. A Mom from Mississippi. A Dad from Arkansas. My mother was 10 years younger than my father. My brother is 10 years older than me. He was gone by the time I was 8.
My parents had a very 50's marriage for the most part. My Mom ironed my Dad's clothes and made the meals as he arrived from work. That kinda stuff. It was harmony unless my Mom got shitfaced and mutinied against the ship captain. Then Hell broke loose.
As I get older, I admit, I'm starting…
not even a refusal of, but a total stark hindsight warning message of kitsch suburban american dream nightmares of jetsons tables, round bottomed BBQs, practicing golf swings by the washing line, the rubbery organ wobble of gameshow themes through TV speakers, old cookbooks full of experimental recipes to wow fellow post-war acolytes of heightened ignorance and civil perfection. consumers consuming.
out of all those late 80s/early 90s darque american suburban gothic horrors like Meet the Applegates and Edward Scissorhands and Serial Mom, Parents is wayyyy more sinister and soupy with dread but also replete with absolutely beautiful nightmare visions and unique visuals. Blown away by that scream through the pipes still.
note to self: stop sleeping on good films, theyre not a comfy bed.
**edit: holy shit, phoebe buffay's dad directed this**
Oh, that was disappointing :( Had such a great look, odd feel and fun ending. But so much of it was a whole load of nothing.
