Texas (pt. III)

Pee-wee’s Big Adventure

Red Rocket

Well howdy, dear readers, thanks for stopping by this here blog for a spell. When the sun is high in the sky and the sizzle of the cicadas reaches a deafening level, I know it’s Summertime, and I become extra aware that I am in one of the hottest places on this planet: this hellish slice of heaven called Texas. This is my third trip through Texas cinema, and each round of Texas films always gives me a greater appreciation for my home state—which is good, because lord knows the state itself is not doing its people any favors. I’ll always love Texas, but as the climate warms and the conservatives swarm, I’ve come to enjoy Hollywood’s idea of Texas much more than living in this actual state. There are too many reasons to list as to why my family and I say we’re from Austin, and not Texas. The Hollywood version of Texas captures the intimidating beauty and depravity of this giant of a state—from tense cowboy shootouts to tearjerking familial dramas to the best little whorehouse dance numbers—Texas is the perfect subject to capture on film because it’s just so massive, mythic, and messy. Much like my last Southern-fried film selections, tonight’s Texas twosome represent very different flavors and eras of the Lone Star State, and even though one of these films only passes through our state lines, it can’t help making a memorable impact. This film is the 1985 comedic classic directed by Tim Burton: Pee-wee’s Big Adventure. I’ve always wanted to see this film because it was a rather large and iconic blind spot in my movie-viewership, and since Paul Reubens passed away in July of last year, I especially wanted to consume all of his zany media. Paul Reubens is one of those legendary comedians who never fully got the praise or credit he deserved, but he was casually a part of several defining moments in pop culture history. Paul spent years in the NYC comedy scene, fine-tuning many characters of his, but particularly his ludicrously-happy character of Pee-wee Herman, and eventually he started his own stage show. He soon gained a cult-like following with this persona and found his way into the famous improv troupe The Groundlings, where he performed alongside other iconic character actors like Edie and Bob McClurg, Susan Barnes, and Phil Hartman. The perky Pee-wee character quickly became a popular figure in the comedy scene, making 14 guest appearances on The Gong Show in 1977, alone. He auditioned for SNL at the same time as Gilbert Gottfried, but since their performance styles were so similar, Reubens was not selected. This was hardly a blip in Paul Reubens’ career, though, because in 1981, his character Pee-wee got his own stage show, and in 1986 Pee-wee’s Playhouse became a full-fledged and decently-budgeted television show. Reubens would make all public appearances as this character, popping up on all of the late night shows as Pee-wee, and making cameos in Cheech and Chong films, among other comedies. Paul Reubens was yanked back and forth between New York and LA, steadily proving that his bizarre but beloved character Pee-wee tested well with adults and children alike, which got the attention of Warner Bros. Thus, in 1986, Pee-wee’s Big Adventure was born—first as a remake of Reubens’ favorite film Pollyanna, and later becoming the famous odyssey where Pee-wee searches for his lost bike. I regret not seeing this sooner, not just because it is a kid’s movie, but because it is a brilliant kid’s movie—the kind that truly anyone of any age will be entertained by. It’s so well-known that I could quote this movie long before I saw it, but I’m so glad I made the time to finally watch this one. Pee-wee’s Big Adventure opens on a dream sequence, where Pee-wee wins the Tour de France with his radical red bike, all while wearing his signature grey suit and red bowtie of course. Pee-wee awakes in his cartoonish bedroom, where his gadgets rival those of Jimmy Neurton, boy genius. He enjoys a breakfast made by a topsy-turvy Rube Goldberg machine, and from a coin-operated machine he grabs a fortune that says “don’t leave the house today.” The drama! The happy-go-lucky Pee-wee exits his fabulously-frenetic home anyway, and after a run-in with the neighborhood rich boy (who is also played by a grown man) who wants his bike, Pee-wee embarks on his day. Pee-wee locks up his bike with a gargantuan chain before running several errands, first to the magic shop, then to the bike shop, where his friend Dottie (played by iconic voice actress E.G. Daily) works. After purchasing a shiny new horn for his most prized possession, Dottie asks Pee-wee to the drive-in, to which Pee-wee gravely answers, “You don’t wanna get mixed up with a guy like me, Dottie, I’m a loner, a rebel.” Pee-wee shortly returns to where he parked his bike, but it has gone missing in broad daylight. He contacts the police (who are no help) and even confronts the spoiled rich kid next door in his swimming pool of a bathtub, but no one knows where his bike is. Pee-wee visits a psychic who randomly concocts the notion that his bike is in the basement at the Alamo in San Antonio, Texas, which sends Pee-wee on a wild, wacky, vibrantly-colored journey across much of the South to find his precious bike. He hitchhikes a ride from an escaped inmate named Mickey who got locked up for removing the “do not remove” tag from a mattress, and though this tough guy is suspicious of Pee-wee’s pleasant attitude, the two get along eventually and help each other out. After one-too many tangles with the police, Mickey ditches Pee-wee because he cares about him too much, but thankfully he soon finds a ride from a woman named Large Marge who drives a massive 18-wheeler. Marge drops Pee-wee off at a diner, where he meets Simone, a lovely and sad waitress who could’ve been implanted just as easily into Wim Wenders’ sad film Paris, Texas. After her shift, Simone and Pee-wee watch the sunrise from inside the mouth of a giant dinosaur sculpture, and have a surprisingly deep convo. Through all of the goofy voices and laughs and relentlessly-funny sight gags, I never thought this film would address so many existential anxieties, but it does. Simone wants to ditch her sad life and go to Paris, and Pee-wee just wants his bike back, and they both encourage each other to go after what they desire most in life. It’s all sweet, romantic bliss until Simone’s exceptionally-tall boyfriend shows up and chases Pee-wee all the way to his planned destination—San Antonio—where he somehow evades getting beat up. Pee-wee is relieved to be in Texas, and though he doesn’t find what he’s looking for here, even though it’s just a short visit through the state, Pee-wee’s Big Adventure utilized some of its funniest and most memorable moments during these scenes. After sustaining a bull-riding injury, a squad of cowboys rushes to him and asks him questions, none of which Pee-wee can remember the answer to. But when a cowboy asks “do you remember anything?”, Pee-wee iconically says, “I remember… the Alamo” which turns these stereotypical cow-folk into happy, hollering fools. Certain archetypes and cliches of Texas have become so tired and overused in the grand scheme of film, television, books, and music, but in this film, I welcomed the cliches because they were so hilarious and charming. Only a few scenes in Pee-wee’s Big Adventure take place in Texas, but it is still staunchly-regarded as a Texas film—locally, and beyond. This colorful and absurd odyssey is full of funny jokes, stupid jokes, insane cameos (Elvira being the least insane of them), and outrageous performances, and it all somehow worked perfectly. Those who don’t know Pee-wee probably only think of his dopey signature laugh and his at-times-shrill aura, but Paul Reubens truly perfected this persona and somehow made him funny for all ages. I couldn’t even take note of every joke, every prat fall, every slapstick piece of genius, every bizarre or unexpected occurrence, because there were just too many. The film is short, but packs in enough humor and high stakes to satisfy even the most cynical of viewers. I see many similarities between a character like Pee-wee and a character like Spongebob Squarepants—not just because they dress alike, are both unrelenting optimists, and Stephen Hillenburg literally based the character off of him—but because he could captivate any crowd, young or old. He could make family friendly jokes that were not over-scandalized, nor were they wholesome, either. It’s a very rare space to have occupied, and Paul Reubens was one of those once-in-a-generation comedic geniuses who just made it work and made it seem effortless. Even after falling out of favor with some audiences, Paul Reubens reinvented himself and always found a way to make people smile—and the same could be said of the protagonist(?) of tonight’s next film. There are many many many more Texas films I need to see, but I wanted to explore a more recent entry into the Texas film canon, and that was Sean Baker’s 2021 film Red Rocket. A couple Pride Months ago, I watched Baker’s first commercially-successful film, which was shot entirely on iPhones—Tangerine. Sean Baker has made a name for himself in the indie film scene and beyond for his slice-of-life presentations of small town America. He typically casts non-actors or unknown actors, and shoots very intimate, very real-feeling subjects and scenes. Tangerine immediately made me want to experience more of Baker’s DIY, homegrown style, and with the surprise of Red Rocket’s success at the Cannes Film Festival, I knew this would be my next watch. Well, that, and my appreciation for Simon Rex. Sean Baker had been planning and writing and dream-casting this film long before he shot it, but at the end of 2020, through frustrating but necessary COVID precautions, production began. Simon Rex stars as Mikey Davies, or, as he was once known in the adult entertainment industry, Mikey Saber. Red Rocket begins with a needle drop of Bye, Bye Bye by *NSYNC—and though I’m more of a Backstreet Boys girly—if you open with a song from my childhood, you’ve already won me over. Mikey is returning to his hometown of Texas City, Texas (yes, this is a real place, near Galveston) after being gone 17 years, and he doesn’t appear to be in good shape. With a semi-fresh black eye and $22 to his name, Mikey shows up at the rickety old home of his estranged ex-wife Lexi and her mother, Lil, who are not happy to see him. “You said you were never gonna step a foot back in Texas” Lexi says to him, to which Mikey replies “And then life fucked me, what do you want me to say?” Mikey is desperate for a place to crash since his mother is now in a retirement home, and Lexi and Lil very begrudgingly agree to let Mikey stay there temporarily if he gets a job and helps out with bills. Like a Pee-wee Herman character on speed, Mikey begins to frantically detail the events that led him to his ex-wife’s door, spewing facts and falsities faster than an auctioneer. After aging out of the porn business and burning all of his bridges in LA, Mikey had no choice but to come back home, to the people he once knew. And though Simon Rex is hopelessly charming and easy to root for, he is at maximum loser status in Red Rocket—sleeping on a couch, struggling to get work, and really only making one new friend—Lexi’s loser neighbor Lonnie, who she used to babysit. As we come to learn through his estranged family and ex-friends, and not through our unreliable narrator, Mikey was indeed a prolific porn actor, but he was far from a star. He’s what people in the adult entertainment industry refer to as a “suitcase pimp”, which Baker describes as “male talent who lives off of female talent in the porn world.” According to Mikey, though, he was cheated out of several AVN awards, which he explains is like the “Academy Awards for porn”. Though he did win Best Oral once. Simon Rex’s casting was referred to as a “winking joke” by David Rooney of the Hollywood Reporter, since Rex himself starred in a few porn videos before he was able to establish himself as an actor (but even then, he was known mostly one-time appearances on tv shows and three films in the Scary Movie franchise [and for many of us, Vine.]) Though he’s forced to slum it in this indoor-smoking, trash-tv-watching, tiny home with his ex wife and mother-in-law, Mikey soon gets into a bit of a groove—selling weed for the weed queen of Texas City, going on peaceful bike rides, and eventually meeting another friend: a 17-year old girl named Strawberry who works at the Donut Hole. This town on the carcinogenic coast is surrounded by power plants and factories, and Strawberry suggests that Mikey start dealing weed to the poor workers who look absolutely miserable upon finishing their shifts. Together, Mikey and Strawberry sling donuts and weed, and their sweet friendship swiftly blooms into a scandalous romance. (Because of course.) Even though I hate this type of young-girl-as-a-plot-device-for-a-lost-man, pretty much across the Woody-Allen-board, I will say that this particular uneven power dynamic at least made sense. It makes sense that a washed up porn star who pissed off everyone from his past would only be able to garner sympathy and attraction from a naive but daring young girl, and it makes sense that she would be smarter than him, which Strawberry certainly was. Red Rocket crafted a perfectly complex story for such a simple small town fable, and its cast and setting really made all of it believable. Mikey was such an exquisitely-written dirtbag who throughout the course of the film, who unintentionally made it his mission to re-wreck the lives of his loved ones and his new friends. He really carved out his own archetype among delightful dirtbag archetypes with his confusing smarmy charm and war-torn good looks. While watching this film you may pity him, root for him, curse him, hate him, but you will never be bored of him—even though the movie is about 15 minutes too long. Red Rocket had all of the Southern-fried wisdom and quaint country contradictoriness one would expect from a Texas film, but with several splashes of a specific, ultra modern yet timeless kind of salacious sex-addiction. As Mikey regales Lonnie and Strawberry with stories from his 17-year career in porn, much is to be learned about the complexities of this ancient practice and never-obsolete industry—which I found fascinating. And through Mikey’s trials and tribulations of survival and hopeful re-escape from his small town, Sean Baker expertly captures the slow loneliness that one can experience here in Texas. Being shot on film, Red Rocket somehow finds the beauty in the chem trails and sunsets and strip malls of this small little town. And while I was constantly frustrated or even disgusted with Mikey, I always understood why he made the decisions he did. Mikey, and everyone surrounding him, just felt like real people with real problems and real hopes and real resentments. Each time Mikey kept bragging about how many clicks and views he got during his porn tenure while his friends and family barely listened and rolled their eyes felt incredibly real. Red Rocket wasn’t perfect, but it was an unexpectedly sweet and yet appropriately-bitter tale of coming back to a place you never thought you’d return, and between its hilarious script and dedicated, lived-in performers. Simon Rex in particular gave so much of himself (fully nude, even) to this role, and it made me really admire him. And though he’s from California, he somehow sold this ex-Texan role very well. Both of tonight’s films showcased the variety of the vibes of Texas, from the tough, manly, stereotypical cowboys who hoot and holler with Pee-wee, to the soft and serene yet still salacious scenes of Red Rocket. Texas, you stubborn, hot, divine destination, you’ll always have my heart, and you’ll always have the best stories to tell. Thank you for moseying on down to this humble hillbilly blog of mine, kid, I tip my hat to you and don’t be a stranger now, ya hear? Until next time, yeehaw, etc.