Examining the detritus of any decade
reveals artifacts that defy explanation. Can anyone really justify the
popularity of bizarre ’70s trends ranging from est to mood rings to the Pet
Rock? Or, for that matter, The Gong Show,
a quasi-postmodern riff on broadcast talent contests
that, in its original incarnation, ran from 1976 to 1980, with uncomfortable
producer-turned-personality Chuck Barris hosting most of the episodes? The
premise of The Gong Show was
showcasing talentless people willing to humiliate themselves on television,
even if the cost of doing so was getting booted offstage once “celebrity”
judges struck a giant gong. Back in the day, The Gong Show seemed like a logical
byproduct of a strange time; viewed years later, The Gong Show seems like an insane result of the fusion between
hedonistic drug culture and vulgar lowest-common-denominator pandering.
Compared to The Gong Show, other ’70s
idiot-box atrocities—Battle of the
Network Stars, to name just one—seem positively edifying.
That’s why the existence of The Gong Show Movie is so bizarre. The Gong Show was already losing its
hold on the public imagination by the time the movie was made, and it’s not as
if the ghastly content of the program left viewers hungry for behind-the-scenes
insights. Unsurprisingly, the movie bombed at theaters and subsequently fell
into such complete obscurity that it’s never been released on home video. Cowritten
by Barris and cult-film stalwart Robert Downey Sr., The Gong Show Movie is exactly as boring and strange and wrong as
you might expect. It’s partially an outtakes reel featuring clips too racy for
broadcast. It’s partially a tone-deaf lament about what a burden it is for
Barris to host and produce a popular show. And it’s partially a whacked-out
phantasmagoria in which Barris suffers a nervous breakdown after overexposure
to desperate weirdos. To watch The Gong
Show Movie, you would think that hosting The Gong Show was the equivalent of eternal damnation. Which, come
to think of it, is sort of how watching The
Gong Show felt.
Anyway, the movie follows Barris through a rough period.
While working through a bump in his relationship with his girlfriend (Robin
Altman), Barris battles anxious censors, domineering network executives eager
for increased ratings, mischievous celebrity judges (that raunchy Jaye P.
Morgan can’t stop making sex jokes), and unhinged contestants. Eventually,
Barris flips out and leaves Los Angeles for the desert, where his quest for
meaning is interrupted by a cavalcade of Gong
Show cast members, who sing him a vaudeville-type song about the role he
plays in their lives. Chuck Barris, the saint who suffers—wow. Nearly every
character in this overstuffed movie is a screaming lunatic, and everyone wants
a piece of Barris, from the psychopath who seeks revenge because his mother got
gonged on the show to the wannabees who accost Barris wherever he goes in order
to give impromptu auditions. Through it all, Barris presents himself as the
only sane man in a world gone mad, whether he’s rolling his eyes at the girls
whose “talent” involves fellating popsicle sticks on national television or
whether he’s unwinding by playing country-rock songs with his pickup band.
The Gong Show Movie is a stunningly
misguided piece of work, because it represents a metaphorical slap in the face
to the people who made Barris famous, and because it’s an 89-minute request for
attention from a man who keeps protesting that all he really wants is to be
left alone. Happily, the American viewing public granted his wish soon
enough.
The
Gong Show Movie: FREAKY
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