Les Paul died recently. Being a fan of "the rock music", I should probably feel some kind of remorse. I know the guy was a god when it comes to guitarists, but the closest I'll ever be to appreciating the man's work is the plastic Wii controller modeled after his creation that I got with my copy of Guitar Hero III. Oh well. Guess it's one of those, "If you're not a part of the scene you just don't understand" things. I felt the same way when Michael Jackson died. But to be fair, that guy was more C.H.U.D. than man by the end of it. Speaking of music, the 40th anniversary of Woodstock happened recently! Yay. Yet another instance of me not having any vested interest in the topic. Instead, I'm just using it as the perfect excuse to review some hippie-centric bad movies. As such, here comes the psychedelic lsd horror party, Blue Sunshine.

You can't have a movie without a protagonist, and BS's man-of-the-hour-and-a-half is Jerry Zipkin. Always the last name on his homeroom role call, Zips also looks like a poor man's Sean Penn. The events of Blue Sunshine aren't going to be very kind to him either. As people all around the city start to randomly lose their hair and kill their friends and loved ones, Zippy and his longtime hippie pals have gotten together for a reunion-of-sorts. Their Joe Spinell looking friend does his impression of a turkey buzzard that took the brown acid (eliciting the greatest exchange about a Toho monster and a Renaissance artist ever committed to film), and horny drunken girlfriend Alicia desperately tries to convince Zip to till her field. The party's biggest moment comes from the group's resident joker Frannie (who is a guy despite his name) as he serenades a married amiga and goes in for a little tonsil hockey, only to have the lady's hubby try to pull Don Juan away by his hair... which comes off in one big wiggy mass. Funny, considering his scalp is still completely intact underneath. I guess all that hair must be held together with... well... fuck it. Like I said, it's just a wig. So much for "movie magic". Fran's eyes go buggy as he freaks out and runs off into the night, wisps of hair still dangling from his scalp like little Jason Voorhees, as his friends stand around with their best "Did that just happen?!" look on their faces. The Zipper (and his reindeer Christmas sweater...) goes off to find their stray pal while others call it a night and head home, but Frannie (who's still a man despite his name, mind you) finds his way back to the house just fine on his own... and kills three women who chose to stay behind. Once the party you're at has been interrupted by someone going insane/drunk and running off unsupervised, that's when it's time to go. I don't care how drunk you are or aren't, just leave the scene. Hanging around never ends well.

Zips returns to the cabin just in time to be way too late, discovering one girl's body doing its best impression of a Duraflame™ in the fireplace. In an unintentionally hilarious moment, he even tries to extinguish the unlucky lady by beating her burning corpse with a decorative throw pillow. Understandably an attempt at conveying the guy's desperation and shock at the horror he's seeing, but hilariously overacted none-the-less! The fact that he keeps his hands stuffed in his pockets before and after just adds to the chuckles. Note for you would-be Academy Award winners of tomorrow: no one can take your dramatic stuff seriously if your hands are jammed into your pants the whole time. You'll just look like a 5 year-old throwing a fit.

Still at the cabin himself, crazed hairstylist's nightmare Frannie (I repeat, still a man) now attacks Zippo too, chasing him out of the cabin to a nearby dirt road. Luckily there just so happens to be a large cargo truck passing through, into whose path Zips is able to shove Frannie-Pooh (still not a woman in spite of having a woman's name), thus killing the wild-eyed maniac who still owed him $20 that our hero will never see again. As the drivers of the truck get out to see what the Hell just happened, Zips SHOVES HIS HANDS BACK INTO HIS POCKETS AGAIN before running off in a panic. After confirming that cueball's 100% corpsed up, one of the drivers grabs a gun from their glove compartment and hunts down the dime store yuppie Spicoli with the intention of bringing him to justice Charles Bronson style. As far as vigilantes go though, "Nameless Truck Driver #2" would have to be considered a failure, as he only manages to wing the Zipper before our hero escapes in his gigantic 1970s automobile. Ignoring Zipkin's long standing position as a women's rights activist, the local cops are convinced that the Zipster was responsible not only for murdering Frannie (self-defense or not), but also slaughtering the 3 gals in the cabin. Now their big concern is catching (or just killing) our hero before he can make it into the city limits where he can not-kill more innocent citizens. They're a little late though, because Zippy's already made his way to a hospital to get patched up courtesy of his doctor pal Dave... who seems to be losing his hair at an alarming rate.

Hearing about other incidences of male pattern baldness inspiring mass homicides, Zips pins on his Junior Gumshoe badge and starts investigating. While scoping out one such murder scene, our man goes balls out crazy at the sight of police tape body outlines, screaming "NO!" and imagining himself attacking the bald psycho responsible. Oh well, at least he's not jamming his hands into his pockets anymore. Further sleuthing leads Zippo to Ed Flemming: a college friend of Frannie (who, remember, was a guy despite having a woman's name) who also happens to be running for Congress. The term "Blue Sunshine" comes up, but the Flem isn't too forthcoming with explanations. Their convo is cut short when a cop that's been tailing Alicia spots her with Zippy and a car chase ensues. And boy is it slow. I haven't seen a chase scene this action anemic since Joe Don Baker farted in our collective cereal bowls with Mitchell. This one's even escorted by some of the most non-chase music chase music I've ever heard. Reminds me of a slower, plodding version of the 'Dallas' theme.

With Flemming's lips unyielding as the proverbial clam, Zip and Alicia explore the college connection by seeking out more Stamford '67 alumni. This brings him back to Dr. Dave, who spills the beans that Flem used to be a drug dealer back in their dorm days. Aside from being the title of our movie (and what sounds like a line of whimsical freezer treats packed with Vitamin C), Blue Sunshine is the name given to some wacky lsd that Flem used to peddle. Not unlike those classic government scare films of the olden days, popping Blue Sunshine will result in long-term side effects such as nightmarish hallucinations, temporary loss/heightening of senses, sexual dysfunction, the ability to communicate with hot dogs, and murderous psychotic episodes. Any violent deaths users may cause to friends, loved ones, or just the dopers and nasal skiers with which they associate while on Blue Sunshine are not the legal responsibility of Blue Sunshine Incorporated, nor its shareholders or subsidiaries. On a positive note though, at least it offers a less painful alternative to Brazilian waxes!

So, as if having the cops up your ass for a quad count of first degree murder wasn't enough, now Zip's got the attention of an ex-pill pusher who's not going to take kindly to someone threatening his political career by exposing his sorted past and the bloodthirsty baldy berserkers connected to it. He also manages to incriminate himself with yet another death (this one also in self-defense), as he seeks out Flem's ex-wife only to catch her at the one time worse than her period: bald, ballistic, and wielding a butcher knife. She goes over the balcony railing of her 11th story condo, he's left holding a bloody knife, and of course the neighbors see it all as he once again runs into the night rather than trying to explain what happened to anybody. Only this time, to give himself more crazy points, he grabs a neighbor by the mouth, screams for her to shut up, and leaves blood smeared on the woman's face. Man, for a college grad this guy sure has shit for common sense.

Eventually everything comes to its head at a Flem political rally at the local mall. Flem's big linebacker lummox head-of-security wigs out (or "wigs off", such as it is) and does the Frankenstein Hustle through a discotheque (can't have a '70s movies without a discotheque!), sending polyester flying in all directions before Zipper (tranquilizer) guns the big goon down in the ladies' department for the lackluster finale. According to the movie's afterward, 235 doses of Flemmy's Blue Sunshine were never accounted for and could still be out there somewhere, just waiting for somebody to put up funding for a sequel. A sequel that will never come. Which is actually too bad, since I'd like to see what somebody more experienced in this style of movie - say Larry Cohen or David Cronenberg - could do with this type of material.

Headliner Zalman King has a very uneasy, awkward mannerism to him that's not only distracting, but makes you wonder if the guy wasn't on something himself while shooting the movie. Speaking of distractions, random things happen in Blue Sunshine that will have you questioning if the DVD was laced with something when you put it into your player. Odd out-of-nowhere stuff like singing Streisand and Sinatra hand puppets at a political rally and a junkie in a park yelling at some tortoise-like old man in glasses that looks like Michael Berryman's dad. It's a weird one. But it's that weirdness that makes it watchable. That, and the fact that every movie needs to end with a drug-fueled psychopath rampaging through a disco. 2001: A Space Odyssey? Check. Chitty Chitty Bang Bang? You betcha. The Last Temptation of Christ? Come on, Willem Dafoe and Harvey Keitel losing all their hair, sweating bullets, and power bombing each other through the Last Supper buffet table amidst strobe lights and disco balls?! Damn straight.

It seems like everything has to have an alcoholic drink or lewd sexual act named after itself these days, so I went ahead and gave one to today's movie. Though I know most of you were expecting me to go with the latter (and I know some of you would like to see me exhibit it too...), I opted to buck my usual trend of going with the gross out and actually trying to be creative for once... only to find that a place called Bar Bug already has a drink called Blue Sunshine listed. Mine probably wouldn't have been so great anyway. It consisted of a raspberry Slush Puppie, 5 shots of rum, and a drop of Hydrogen Cyanide aka "Blue Acid". All taste tests proved almost immediately fatal anyway, so you probably wanna imbibe the other cocktail instead the next time you and your friends get together for drinks and Jeff Lieberman flicks. Throw a few Gummi Worms in for effect too if your agenda includes Squirm. Oh yeah, and if you are going to watch Squirm, make sure you either watch the MST3K version or, if the strait version is all you can come up with, punch yourself in the reproductive organs as hard as you can. With any luck you'll blackout before you get past the opening sequence.