Oh, thank you, blessed baby Jesus!
MB is working tonight and, lucky me, I just stumbled across the movie “Frogs” on some obscure channel called “ThisTV.”
Anyhoo. The movie is circa 1972 starring Ray Milland, Joan Van Ark, and — the best part — a young hunky delicious Sam Elliott. Now I’ve always found him hunky and delicious, but I don’t think I’ve ever even seen him before he turned into the silver-haired fox he is today.
So I am now watching “Frogs” — which looks like a totally awesome and cheesy B movie where amphibians “strike back” — strictly to gander at and swoon over Sam Elliott. And I’m going to live blog this puppy because it just seems like one of those things I would end up doing when I’m by myself, now doesn’t it?
Oh, pippa. I need to go make popcorn. Wait. After this shot of a topless Sam Elliott. Oooh. Those tan biceps. Hold me, 1972 Sam Elliott.
Commence live and totally random blogging:
~ Okay. The Sam Elliott character is named “Pickett Smith.” Whatevs. But the funny thing is that Joan Van Ark, that bag of bones, keeps running around like a spaz repeating his name to everyone. “Hi, Grandpa! Have you met Pickett Smith? Well, this is Pickett Smith. Say hi to Pickett Smith, Grandpa. Yes, his name is Pickett Smith. Clint, I want to introduce you to Pickett Smith. He’s visiting us, is Pickett Smith. That’s what Pickett Smith is doing.” Pickett Smith Pickett Smith Pickett Smith I just met him but I’m in love with Pickett Smith which you can tell by how I can’t stop saying his name, Pickett Smith. Calm down, Joan Van Ark.
~ Oh, also: Joan Van Ark is wearing what can only be described as a giant onesie. We’ve discussed the skater onesie here before and we all know what a baby onesie is, and, well, Joan Van Ark (hereafter JVA) is wearing an adult version of a baby onesie. In butter yellow. There is really no way to overstate the oog factor of her skinniness sheathed in a giant baby butter-colored onesie. You know, JVA. Most men don’t go for women in baby onesies and the ones who do, you don’t really wanna know.
~ Oh, dear. Oh, no. Lots of close-ups of huge fat frogs. What does it all MEAN??? They look pretty tasty to me, frankly. This a problem how?
~ Uh-oh. It’s dinnertime at the estate here. They’re lounging around discussing at length how they’re “the ugly rich.” So poor Pickett Smith is the outsider here with his sexy denim shirt and sexy jeans and sexiness. The frogs heard the dinner bell, apparently, and are hoppin’ in hungry droves towards the house. So what we have here is The Great Gatsby Meets The Plagues of Egypt, peaches.
~ Oh, earlier, Pickett Smith Pickett Smith! found a dead body on the estate. He’s also a photographer, it turns out. Although, really, those two things have nothing to do with each other. He found the dead body not in his professional role of photographer but in his strictly amateur role as the only person worth a tiny rat’s bottom in this entire movie.
~ Hahahahaha. The fat little frogs are pawing — clawing? webbing? what? — at the windows of the estate. Like li’l kitties trying to get in. It would almost be cute if it weren’t for the imminent amphibian mayhem and death.
~ Oh! Ray Milland — Grandpa in a wheelchair — just shot a snake dangling from the chandelier. This snake was menacing poor Mabel, the black housekeeper for the Crockett family, so naturally, one must shoot it with a bunch of other people standing around the table.
~ The closeted gay grandson brought a black woman to dinner. Her white dress is slit to her navel. She’s braless. The ugly rich openly comment on her slutty outfit. Closeted Gay Son says he LIKES it. Sure you do, precious.
~ JVA is wasting Picket Smith’s — and my — time by trying to converse with him. JVA, don’t you get that he’s the strong silent type? Toddle off in your onesie, babydoll.
~ You know, I’ve never liked JVA and that’s putting it mildly. I hope she gets frogged but good. Eat her up, onesie and all, okay, Mr. Toad? And her Trisha Nixon ponytail.
~ Uh-oh. Some little whippersnappers just set off some firecrackers in the bayou. It’s the Fourth of July, but do the frogs care about that? No, no, they do not. Rather, they now seem ENRAGED.
~ Photographer Pickett Smith is also an environmental expert apparently: “You’ve overdone it with the pesticides, Ray Milland.” Swoon. Is there no END to this man’s sexiness and knowledge??
~ Here’s Blonde Weekend Guest Dude. Shooting things in the bayou. No, wait. Shooting himself. Accidentally, in the leg. Oops. Here we go. He’s now being eaten by moss and, ew, tarantulas. (Which are basically harmless and blind, but whatevs.) They be scary, I won’t lie. But what are they doing in this movie? It’s called “Frogs” not “Frogs and Snakes and Spiders.” What UP, movie? He’s now covered in a giant spider web. Oh, those frogs!
~ I don’t think he’s still alive. I’m sorry, pippa.
~ I feel it only fair to warn you all: The lizards are on the move.
~ Gammie is wandering in the bayou with a butterfly net and a dress with a fluttery collar.
~ Black chick is now dressed like an African princess. Massive head wrap, giant caftan. She’s playing croquet like this. Some dude comments on how he “likes her game.” She responds, “I don’t think so. I don’t think you can dig it.” I’m confused. Or more confused.
~ I have to admit I’m bothered by Pickett Smith’s lack of wardrobe changes. I am spending way too much time pondering the implications.
~ Oh, gay son is in the greenhouse, tuliping around and such. But the lizards, you see, they have other plans. They are, in cold premeditated fashion, knocking various clear bottles labeled “Poison” and “Worse Poison” and “Worst Poison Ever” onto the floor of the greenhouse. The fumes! Oh, no! Gay son walks towards them, as anyone would. He is overcome! The lizards LAUGH!
~ Pickett Smith and the African Princess just found dead Gay Son. They announce his death to everyone. But, ugly rich that they are, no one seems to care.
~ Ew. EW. A fat frog just jumped onto the abandoned Fourth of July Flag Cake! EWW. Get offa the symbol of my country in cake form, you damned filthy frog!
~ Gammie! Beware! The snakes are full of mischief! Gammie! Look out! She’s being stared down by a rattler. RUN, GAMMIE! Okay. Phew, she is. Obviously, she foresaw this horrible ordeal which is why she wore those pristine white tennis shoes with her fluttery party dress. But, oh no! Two feet of water take her down! She gets up and … hahaha …. she’s now wearing a totally different dress, one sleeve of which was somehow dissolved by her fall into the water. Never know with water, do you? Okay, finally, she’s bitten by a snake. She’s down and dead and instantaneously gray.
~ Another dude. I don’t even know who this dude IS. Random Guest, we’ll call him. Well, anyway, he’s battling a croc right now. I’m serious. They killed off Gammie, cut to a commercial, came back to Random Guest in a death match with a croc. Nearby frogs just watch, croaking. Random Guest also croaks but not in a way that means he’s still alive.
~ Sexy and smart photographer Pickett Smith says, “We gotta get off this damn island!” Everyone but Grandpa agrees. “I control these people!” he says. His household staff — all black, by the way, because this is the 1970s?? — protest. He tells them to go then, fine. His son or grandson — or whoever — is taking them home on the boat. Uh-oh.
~ Ray Milland says to JVA, “Uhm, excuse me, but even under these circumstances, can’t I have something to EAT???” Hahahaha. You’re a real gem, Gramps. JVA complies because she’s spineless. And I think I mean that literally.
~ Dude that took the household staff in the boat — well, guess what? He’s in trouble now, bit by some giant water moccasin or something. His hot blonde wife shrieks, runs into the water, but, oh, no, a — what?? a sea turtle?? — is swimming for her ….. very …… very slowly ….. obviously, there’s no TIME! She’s done for!
~ Grandpa CANNOT be reasoned with, all because it’s his birthday, you see, and all this death is just RUINING his party. JVA and PS try to use common sense on him, but he just says, “Okay. Get the hell out! Stand up and be counted! You’re either with me or against me!” (Uhm, what, Grandpa? You’re just throwing out cliches now, do you know that? This is more than just “my flag cake was ruined by frogs.” You’re somewhat mentally compromised.)
~ PS and JVA find themselves a canoe, taking the kids orphaned by the recent rampaging water moccasin and sea turtle. Those two were mom and dad, apparently. The movie makes basically zero attempt to define relationships here.
~ On another note: For a movie called “Frogs” have we yet seen anyone actually murdered by the frogs themselves? No, I don’t think we have. So the frogs are Charles Manson, I guess, having other more malleable critters do their homicidal bidding.
~ Oooh. Sam Elliott paddling a canoe. In one shot he’s wearing a shirt, very next shot, shirtless. More mistakes like this, please. Totally fine by me.
~ Oh, no! A snake jumped from a tree, molesting Pickett Smith! He fights it off as any photographer/environmental expert would do. JVA screams. I dislike her intensely.
~ Pickett Smith shoots a rapidly approaching croc. Sexxxy. Although I grieve over the number of purses and pairs of boots that just sank to the bottom of the bayou.
~ They make it across the murderous waters to the other shore. A lady offers them a ride. “We haven’t seen anybody on this road for three hours. Isn’t that strange for a holiday??” Her little son turns to the other boys in the back seat. “Hey, wanna see what I found?” AHHHH! It’s a big fat frog! Freeze frame.
~ Wait. Back to retarded Grandpa in the wheelchair. He’s all alone now, with only his creepy hunting trophies on the wall to keep him company. He wheels around his house, into another room. Frogs are everywhere. Duh, Gramps. There’s a close-up of his stuffed gazelle with a simultaneous bleating goat sound. He falls from his wheelchair, startled, one assumes, to hear his stuffed gazelle bleat like a goat, and is overcome by THE FROGS.
~ (Uhm, movie, you didn’t even show me what happened to hunky sexy Sam Elliott aka Pickett Smith Pickett Smith!. I mean, yes, it’s implied by the ghoulish frog freeze frame, but you give me a hunky hero and leave me with what? Just imagining his death at the — hands? legs? what? — of maniacal frogs? Lazy shiftless movie. Or stupid ran-out-of-money movie.)
~ Roll credits to the sound of …. not kidding ……. croaking frogs.