Troll 2. Manos, the Hands of Fate. The Room. Star Wars Holiday Special. All are known for being awful films but which are strangely compelling. Whether it's the pitch-changing "oh my gooooo-ooood!" and the town of Nilbog and pissing on hospitality in Troll 2, the 90 second burst cinematics of Manos, humping clothes and bellybuttons and "oh hai Mark" of The Room, or the Wookie dialogue without subtitles in the Holiday Special (which still manages to be better than the Disney Star Wars films), they are a fountain of memes for bad film enjoyers the world over.
And then there's Champagne & Bullets, a 1993 cinematic effort that was written, directed, starring, and with an original soundtrack by a California lawyer called John de Hart. A rollicking take of vengeance sometimes also known as "Road to Revenge" or "GetEven," it has it all. Action! Romance! Satanic cults! Corrupt cops! The Shimmy Slide! All featuring John, who... appears... in the film, usually sporting a black tank top and a moustache that looks like a dead rat is hanging on his face. And leather pants. Because of course it does.
Also appearing in the film are Wings Hauser, the 1980s jobbing actor who spends all of his screen time utterly wasted, William Smith, who chews the scenery as the bad guy, corrupt cop, and Satanic cult leader Normad, and Pamela Jean Bryant, who was a Playboy Playmate and who John decided was perfect for the role of his character's love interest after he saw her spread out across some glossy paper at some point, probably while he was on the thunder box. To her credit, she does actually act fairly well comparatively. But one cannot escape the whole stench that surrounds the movie as basically being a very elaborate plot for John de Hart to try and have a go at her IRL. As we shall see.
The film opens with some extremely cheap titles and then Rick Bode, a moustachioed cop (John de Hart) and his partner Huck Finney (Wings Hauser, who is hoping he can stay just sober enough not to have a spoonerism), raiding a drug den with Normad. But it all goes tits up and there's a shootout and some very unconvincing knee to groin action. Normad then turns on Rick and Huck and accuses them of being on drugs and has them flung off the force for same. Oh no! Anyway. Huck knees Normad in the crotch again then goes very nuts while shouting at things while in a swimming pool and shooting utility bills with a derringer, while Rick becomes a limo driver. For some reason.
Cut to their local bar, which is a windowless room with a rake of arcade machines in the back and a bar in the corner, a clearly downstairs access, and nothing on the walls. If you're thinking, "this is John de Hart's basement," you're right, it is. Here he meets Cindy, who turns out to be an old flame even though they're clearly 20 years apart in age, and Rick is convinced to perform a song for them.
Enter, THE SHIMMY SLIDE.
You are not ready for this. The Shimmy Slide is a thigh-slappin' faux Country and Western number with wonderful lyrics like "well I've had a coupla beers and I'm feeling all right, I'm sweatin' all over cuz your dress is so tight." It is delivered by John himself doing this weird backwards and forward shuffle in front of a microphone while staring into the middle distance, probably because he's got a minion holding up a stack of cards with the lyrics on behind the camera. While all this is going on a quartet of random bar patrons perform a square dance routine during instrumental segments. And yes, the whole song is performed complete with a break and various ejaculations of "HOT DAMN" and "Whoooo, let's do it again!" and similar. It is genuinely unforgettable in it uncomfortableness. Honestly, I think you need to experience it for yourself.
Shudder.
So once we've done the Shimmy Slide, and the lady viewers have retrieved their knickers from the floor, some plot happens. Huck gets imprisoned after Normad (who'd inexplicably become a judge in the meantime) frames him for peddling drugs and in prison he attempts suicide by drinking bleach. Rick and Cindy come and visit him in the hospital and Rick asks him, "how's that whole bleach thing work out for ya?" in a fit of bad writing. Rick and Cindy go on a date, and she tells him that she made some bad life choices by getting caught up in a Satanic Cult who sacrificed a baby, and coincidentally whose guru happened to be Normad. Rick responds to this with some awkward recitation of Shakespeare and then they have sex. Interminable, endlessly filmed sex, during which he applies an ice cube to her nipnop while another one of his thigh-slapping faux Country and Western songs plays. At this point I was beginning to realise the real reason why Pamela Jean Bryant was cast, and it was so Mr de Hart could see if he could foment some romance on the set. Shudder.
There's then some more awkward fight scenes, John picking up all Cindy's belongings from her parents in a 4x4 which he seems unable to start on an incline, some more drugged up antics by Wings Hauser, and then Rick and Cindy get married and you know what that means, right? Yes! It does! More gratuitous banging, and more country music, by John himself! There's also a rather awkward goof where Rick hands off his champagne glass while lying in bed but there's no table there so a visible crew member's hand comes from the direction of the cuck chair and takes it out of shot. This goes on once again for far too long, and then Cindy reveals that the cult leader is Normad, gets killed in a motorbike accident because her helmet fell off, and thus Rick goes on his Road to Revenge. Cue possibly the worst Rocky Montage ever committed to film. John, in either a black tank top or a gi, kicks and punches a heavy bag and things in really unconvincing fashion. It doesn't help that John de Hart is not really athletically inclined and once again, he has a moustache like a dead rat is clinging to his face. The rest of the film involves a showdown with Normad in his underground Satanic hideout and then a mega happy ending where it's revealed Cindy wasn't actually dead (even though we saw her funeral) and that's it.
Champagne & Bullets is not a good film. It takes way too long to get going, it visibly bounces up against its budget in the worst possible fashion (that is, it tries to paper over the cracks rather than run with it), the acting is craptacular, the plot is brain damaged, there are way too many unnecessary characters and things, and the dialogue is wooden. But the worst sin of all is that there's an aura of creephattery following it all around. The whole film seems to be a boondoggle for getting Pamela Jean Bryant, who I remind you was a Playboy Playmate, to take her clothes off, and for John de Hart to grope her. It's almost like the whole plot and everything is an artifice for him to see if she will actually let him do this in real life rather than just acting. Let's have a look at it. There's the fact that a lot of the film is self financed and seems to be a vehicle for him to show off that he has a big ol' house with a basement the size of a bar, that he has uncommon talents (he doesn't), and that he's very single. I mean, the whole plot and setting is kind of aimed at single blokes. However he's getting on a bit, but don't let that stop him. Then he gets Pamela Jean Bryant to make out with him on camera and seems to hope that she'll call him afterwards in real life rather. I mean, why wouldn't she. The character of Rick Bode is basically what he hopes he could be. A self-insert. A black tank top wearing badass who has a surprisingly sensitive side, and exactly what he thinks a woman like her would want. Rather than a boring Californian lawyer with a dead rat moustache. Needless to say, it didn't work, but at least he got to brag to his compatriots that he'd almost had a go at a real life Playboy Playmate, for real. On the one hand, I respect John de Hart's efforts at self actualising. But on the other hand... it's shite, really, isn't it?
The other main motivation for the film seems to be his efforts to market his thigh-slapping faux country and western songs. The fact that I'd never heard the Shimmy Slide until I had the misfortune to see this film is evidence enough that it didn't work. His singing is as bad as his acting and his writing and his directing. And that's saying something.
(IRON NODER 2023 #6)