Greetings! I’m writing to you from the advent of the 2020 holiday season, which is bound to look and feel exactly like the last three seasons we just lived through: craptastic. This year, Thanksgiving and Christmas will be virtual events...for those of y’all who believe in science, anyway. How am I gonna chow turk with my grandma via Zoom? I guess I’m about to find out, eh!? One might expect that the CDC begging people not to congregate with their loved ones would drain the holiday spirit out of folks but, in fact, the exact opposite seems to be happening. People seem bent on aggressively enjoying the holidays this year. The other night, the evening news told me that people started purchasing live Xmas trees the day after Halloween KNOWING that they would probably be dead long before Xmas (the trees...not the people. Or--who knows??). Is that not the most 2020 thing you’ve ever heard or what?? Me? I generally remain neutral around this time of year...but even I started to feel the feels when I saw a print ad for Netflix's upcoming Kurt Russell/Goldie Hawn Xmas flick! Do you think it’s gonna be like Overboard at Xmas? Is Kurt gonna kidnap Goldie and force her to clean his toilets and make gingerbread houses with his delinquent sons? You know what movie is more than a little fucked up? Overboard! Anyway, we’ll get around to some Xmas flicks in good time. If anyone has a copy of the Silent Night Deadly Night flick with Mickey Rooney they want to loan out please DM me immediately. First, we gotta get through Thanksgiving...and you know that I know that you know that there’s only one Thanksgiving film worth talking about...and it’s the 1987 John Hughes classic Planes, Trains and Automobiles. We’ve discussed PT&A every November since I started VHS of the Week way back in the halcyon days of 2017, some 55 years ago. I’d be more than happy to talk about it again, and you can bet your sweet asses and assettes I’ll be watching it for the 333rd time this Thursday with my pumpkin pie, but I don’t know that I have anything else to say about it. It’s a truly flawless film. Full stop. Fortunately (or...actually...unfortunately) John Hughes wrote and produced a sort of PT&A reboot in 1991 called Dutch. In 2019, I began my searing takedown of Hughes’ directorial swan song Curly Sue with the following statement: “I love everything with John Hughes’ name on it--even Dutch!” I guess I owe y’all an apology because that statement is a whopping shitburger of lies. Things with John Hughes’ name on them include Home Alone 3 and the Beethoven film series. You think I’m gonna stan for Baby’s Day Out? Please. I also wrote that statement knowing that I hadn’t seen Dutch since the week it opened in theaters (in the middle of JULY! Nothing says “we have full confidence in our Thanksgiving movie” like dumping it into theaters four months before said holiday. Maybe they thought it would have Home Alone-like staying power?). Since it has been almost 30 years, I figured now was as good a time as any to check out Dutch again to see if maybe there was an unheralded Hughes holiday chestnut that people had been snoozing on. After watching it for the second time, I can say with full confidence that the reason people do not watch Dutch at Thanksgiving, or ever, is that it balls bad. John Hughes appears to have taken the basic structure of PT&A (a mismatched duo attempts to travel to Chicago for Thanksgiving--hijinks ensue), amputated its heart and filled it with palpable menace and enough racist stereotypes to make Long Duk Dong wince. Let this review stand as my official recantation of my previous statement--I do not, in fact, love Dutch.
What happens is this: we open at some ostentatious mansion party in, you guessed it, the suburbs of Chicago! Party guest Natalie Standish (two time Poltergeist survivor Jo Beth Williams) lays out the entire plot of the movie in one tiny snatch of dialogue in the first 30 seconds. Hey, my college screenwriting teacher always told me “show..don’t TELL!” My college screenwriting teacher is currently selling yoga clothes and John Hughes was worth $150 million dollars when he died...so there’s that. Natalie tells a crowd of severely disinterested local aristocrats that she was just a lowly bartender until she got knocked up by some fuck you rich corporate raider type. He gave her a son named Doyle...and a whole lotta headaches! So she divorced him and took up with a local blue collar construction something-or-other by the name of Duth Dooley (Ed O’Neill...warily reprising his Al Bundy schtick on the big screen). We know Dutch is a blue collar stiff because he has shown up to a black tie party in a flannel shirt and corduroy blazer. Other than that, there isn’t really a whiff of the working class on this guy. He’s smart, drives a Lincoln Towncar, and maybe owns his own business? What? Just because the dude gets grossed out by the caviar crostinis being passed around we’re supposed to think he’s some piece of shit? Had John Hughes disappeared so far up his own ass by 1991 that he thought that someone who makes $50k a year was pitiable? Looks that way, folks. Speaking of pieces of shit--Natalie’s estranged husband Reed shows up and he’s totally Shooter McGavin from Happy Gilmore! Gotta keep an eye on that guy...always! So he’s an asshole and he says a bunch of asshole stuff to Natalie, prompting Dutch to grab him by the collar and say “You hurt her and I’ll hit you so fucking hard your dog will bleed.” Oh man! How, exactly, would THAT work!?
The kid Doyle is played by a 12 year-old actor by the name of Ethan Randall. I googled him to see what he’d been up to, figuring he was probably schlepping around the disappeared 90’s child star circuit with Austin O’Brien and Chuck Korsmo. But check THIS out: Ethan Randall is actually Ethan Embry! From Can’t Hardly Wait and shit! Everyone knows that guy! In 1999 I was in the checkout line at the Ralph’s on Sunset when I realized he was behind me. I said “hey.” He said….”hey.” What a nice dude! His character in Dutch, though? Complete fucking asshole. Just a miserable, malevolent, unrepentantly elitist piece of shit. He’s like the demon love child of Stephen Miller and Jared Kushner. He lives at a boarding school in Georgia where he has zero friends. He spends all of his time practicing karate and listening to Brahams and being profoundly unpleasant to everyone he crosses paths with. His mom gets him on the horn and tells him that paw dukes had to fly to London for the holiday but that she bought him a plane ticket to spend Thanksgiving with her. He says he'd rather gargle broken glass. She tells him that she loves him. He hangs up on her before retreating to his dorm room, where he cuts up pictures of her. Real future serial killer-type shit. Doyle calls his dad’s office to suss out the London sitch...but when his secretary says that he’s unavailable he tells her she should start looking for a new job. Then he hangs up the phone, walks over to a janitor, and kicks over his trash can, scattering garbage everywhere. Stephen Miller...I’m telling you!
One night, while Dutch is making Natalie a bomb ass 10 course dinner (this guy COOKS too? Total neanderthal), she relays her tale of familial woe. Dutch offers to drive down to GA to retrieve him. Natalie is all “ehh...you don’t know my son--he’s kind of a prick.” Dutch promises to charm the pince-nez right off the kid. Says they’ll be tossing around the pigskin in no time! So Dutch drives to the boarding school and lets himself into Doyle’s dorm. When the kid walks in and sees Al Bundy standing in his room he freaks out. He throws a book at him and kicks him right in the goddamn face, instigating the first of about a dozen violent altercations that will occur between this six-foot-one 44 year-old man and this 12 year-old child. They rassle and then Doyle pulls out a GUN and then they rassle some more and Doyle shoots Dutch and the movie ends. I wish--turns out it was just a BB gun! So it’s cool then? Once they retreat to their respective corners Dutch tells the kid he was sent to shepherd him home. The kid says that he already has plans for the week. “Like what,” Dutch says, “hanging yourself in the shower?” I laugh a tiny laugh. Doyle refuses to leave so Dutch gags the kid with a pair of dirty undies, binds his wrists and ankles with rope, and simply carries him out to his vehicle. Most people would call this action kidnapping...because that’s what it is.
So now these two are officially Chicago bound. I’m not sure where exactly in the state this fictional boarding school is supposed to be but it is a 14 hour drive from the southernmost corner of Georgia to Winetka, IL. I know because I plugged the route into Waze. So they should be exiting the Dan Ryan Expressway before sunrise if they don’t do any stupid bullshit...like everything they end up doing over the next interminable 90 minutes. Whereas our PT&A pals Neil Page and Del Griffith were waylaid by fleetingly believable disasters,, there is NO GOOD REASON why Dutch and Doyle can’t make it home on time unless they make the absolute worst decision possible at every critical juncture. As soon as the rubber meets the road Dutch tries to engage Doyle in a little friendly road movie banter but the kid clams up like Peter Stormare in Fargo (“Where is pancakes house?”). When he does start to talk we immediately wish he still had those briefs jammed in his trap. He drags Dutch for being from the working class (in his $40k sedan) and accuses him of dating his mom for her dough. Dutch says he’s proud of his solidly middle class heritage. Doyle says money that you have to work for isn’t real money. Dutch tells Doyle that he’s about as worrisome as a cloudy day. And so on. In order to shake things up, Dutch pulls into a rest area and purchases a deck of playing cards with naked ladies on them and about $5000 worth of fireworks. He drives the kid out to some field and sets off the fireworks in a sequence that feels like it goes on for longer than the entirety of Planes, Trains and Automobiles. After the grand finale the kid calls Dutch a “big, deranged child.” He also says that they could already be at Charlie Trotter’s crushing escargot if they weren’t in some random field shooting off roman fucking candles. He doesn’t actually say that last part...but I can tell he’s thinkin’ it!
They get back on the road and continue to bicker over the heat and the stereo and blah blah blah. Dutch lights up a cigar and the kid is so thoroughly disgusted that he yanks it out of his mouth and attempts to light his crotch on fire with it. This goes over poorly. They pull over and start screaming at each other by the side of the road. Dutch threatens to abandon Doyle by some 50 miles from the motel where they’re supposed to bunk down. Doyle is like fine...fuck you...good. So Dutch splits and the kid has to walk 50 miles! (note: I think he might’ve said 15 miles...not 50. 50 seems kind of harsh...even for this movie). When Doyle finally arrives at the hotel he’s BULLSHIT. He busts into the room all “You asshole! I could’ve froze to death!” Dutch fires up another stogie and says “I’m working class and I don’t take crap from kiddies!” What does social status have to do with anything at this particular point?? Also--who does he take crap from? The elderly? Doyle immediately runs outside and steals the Lincoln. He parks it in the middle of the road, where it is creamed by a speeding 18-wheeler, which is awesome. It turns out the kid jumped out of the car just before it was pancaked, though, which is less awesome. Doyle is alive but the Lincoln is fuuucked. Dutch is understandably upset so he grabs the kid by the neck and throws him into the bathroom. He tells Doyle he wants to have a proper fistfight. “None of that karate shit--just a classic, All American street fight.” Whoa, is street fighting an american invention? I had no idea! Thank you, John Hughes! Doyle says that he’s down and promptly throws a nasty haymaker and knocks Dutch the fuck out. Clock: cleaned. Completely unconscious...likely concussed. Does any of this shit sound funny to you?? This is truly the darkest stain of dark comedy. When Dutch regains his consciousness he’s in his own motel bed. He glances over at Doyle’s bed, where the kid is cracking his way through that deck of naked lady cards. For the first time in this flick...the kid looks happy. Even though these two have done nothing but beat the piss out of each other for the last half hour, the sight of Doyle pitching a tent to some smutty cards makes Dutch beam with pride. He sighs, smiles, and drifts off to sleep to sound of Doyle gently bopping his baloney.
The following morning these two ding dongs are back at each other’s throats. It’s almost as if their evening full of felony grand theft auto and quiet masturbation never even happened. It is suggested that a simple collect call could bring this ill-advised road trip/movie to its conclusion in about 15 seconds. Nevertheless...they persist. They both begrudgingly agree that asking people for help ain’t baller and that they need to just gut it out the rest of the way home. The entire purpose of this trip was to show the kid how the other half lives. Teach him some life lessons, you dig? So far the only lesson learned is ME learning that I should’ve tried to watch Jodie Foster’s Home for the Holidays instead. They board a Greyhound, where Doyle rudely asks a black teenager to turn down his boombox. The teenager responds by stealing Doyle’s shoes. For those of you keeping score at home there is approximately one black person in this film so far and he is a thief. They pull into the bus terminal in time to catch the El Train up to...WHAT THE!?? They STILL haven’t reached Chicago?? Sweet Christ on a cracker! Although Doyle has $200 in his wallet he insists they thumb the rest of the way home (seriously...aren’t they close enough to call an Uber??). They are scooped up by two comely young ladies in a bitchin’ Camaro with a mint louver on the rear window. About a minute into the ride we learn that the ladies are hookers….because of course they are. With hearts of gold, natch. Doyle rides in the backseat with Hooker #2, who imparts some matronly advice. She tells the kid that he really needs to mend fences with his mom. Then she offers to give him an over-the-jeans handy for $20 but Doyle does not have $20. Instead, she agrees to let him sleep with his face buried in her bosom. Now...only one of those things I just mentioned is true...but I ain’t saying which! Meanwhile, Hooker #1 steals Dutch’s wallet after he falls asleep. So maybe just hearts of bronze then, these hookers.
When dawn breaks, the foursome rolls into a truck stop in a part of the country that is still not Chicago. What in the actual fuck, people!? Did they take a shortcut through Tulsa?? The fellas head inside to order everyone a round of Moons Over My Hammy’s. When Dutch reaches in his pocket he realizes his wallet is gone, much like the hookers. Goodbye hookers. Now Dutch lashes out at the kid. “I can’t believe you let us get bamboozled by a could of missile twisters!” (Note: missile twisters??). Doyles resorts to “yo mamma” snaps, prompting Dutch to punch the kid in the chest, knocking him flat on his ass. Look, I hate this turd with wings too, man--but you just can’t keep assaulting a 12 year-old. At least not in public! Dutch says that he hates Doyle SO MUCH that he has decided to end his relationship with his mother. Out of nowhere, the kid inexplicably grows a shit to give. I’m not sure why, when this man has done nothing but physically abuse him for the last however many days. Doyle apologizes profusely for the hooker hoodwinking. “It’s my fault--you fell asleep and I got horny.” Dutch’s eyes light up when he hears this. “You got HORNY!? Awww!” Dutch explodes with joy because HUH!??
Even though it must be the middle of February by now, these two keep on keepin’ on. They gotta get home for Thanksgiving! I mean...maybe they do? The holiday is almost never mentioned. I bet this little prick Doyle is vegan or some shit. Tofurkey all the way. For their next nonsensical move they decide to stow themselves away in concrete culverts in the back of a semi. Shit man--even Candy and Martin got to ride INSIDE of the truck. They arrive at a still-not-in-Chicago trailer yard, where they brawl with a couple of security guards. I couldn’t really tell you what they were fighting about as I was busy reading the directions of the barf bag at this point. Dutch and Doyle drag their beaten and bloodied asses to a local restaurant and ask to use the restroom to wash away the violence but the manager freaks out and threatens to call the police. Luckily, a nicewhitecouple decides to abandon their chicken marsala-ses and help the dudes out. They drive them the rest of the way to Chicago and the movie ends. OH WAIT! I mean--they drop them off at a motherfucking HOMELESS SHELTER!! Instead of saying, you know, we aren’t actually homeless but, in fact, quite wealthy, they decide they will go inside. Where is this shelter, you ask? Hammond, Indiana. How far is Hammond from Chicago? Just 27 miles!!! If they walked briskly they could be home in time to watch Johnny Carson. Instead, they opt to spend the night in a homeless shelter. I am 100% going to snap this movie in half when/if it ends. They sit down to dinner in the soup kitchen and pantomime eating out in a a fine dining restaurant (sipping soup with a pinky finger in the air and all that stupid shit). Unlike literally everyone else in the shelter, these two assholes can actually afford to eat at a fine dining restaurant. Once their bellies are full of grub earmarked for the needy, they help themselves to a pair of cots. Maybe Dutch figures that a kindly African American family will befriend Doyle in the middle of the night and teach him the true meaning of Thanksgiving (appropriating things that belong to other people?). And hey! That’s exactly what happens! He meets a black lady who says that she’s been living in her car with her husband and young daughter ever since her husband lost his job. “But it’s real nice here though, huh?” she asks. Doyle is all “Ahh...Mmm... Mmm Hmmm.” For those of you STILL keeping track at home--the only people of color in this film are either thieves or homeless. She asks Doyle if Dutch is his daddy. He smiles wide and says “yes.” The music swells. I barf all over myself.
Thanksgiving morning--the homeless family agrees to drive the fellas the rest of the way home in their station wagon house, which looks like the Wagon Queen Family Truckster AFTER Chevy Chase drove it off that cliff. They roll up to Natalie’s place and OH MY FRICKEN GOD it’s a 20 bedroom mega mansion. The kind of gilded estate that makes the McCallister’s house look like a fuckin’ hovel. There are free-range ponies galloping around the grounds and everything, I shit you not! In the spirit of the holidays, Dutch invites the family in for dinner and offers to let them squat on the outskirts of their 300 acre property until they can get back on their feet. Just kidding! They say see you never and head inside to chow face on a meal prepared by a private chef and served by white glove-wearing servants. They couldn’t have at least slipped this poor family a tenner for gas?? Ice cold, man. Anyway, Doyle is super sweet on his mom because he likes her now or whatever. But then Shooter McGavin shows up and tells Doyle that he cancelled his trip to London just to spend Thanksgiving with him. Doyle calls bullshit. Says he knows that his dad was really just off banging his secretary and would prefer to stay put. Shooter tells the kid he can choose only one parent and Doyle chooses his mom (zzzzzzz). Pops is pissed and says that he is evicting them from the property immediately. Hey folks--I know of a Plymouth Volare about 10 miles down the road with plenty of extra sleeping space! Dutch doesn’t appreciate what he’s hearing so he follows Shooter outside and punches him in the head with such terrible force he leaves a pinky ring imprint on Shooter’s head. Shooter now says that the family can stay for another six months...probably because he has just sustained a traumatic head injury. The cockles of my heart have rarely been less warm. At long fucking last everyone sits down for Thanksgiving dinner. Dutch asks Doyle to leave the table for a minute so he and Natalie can have some privacy. Doyle starts to leave the room but gets a bad feeling. He turns around to see Dutch with a gun trained on him while everyone else looks on in horror. He shoots Doyle in the dick. The kid screams and BANG! The movie just ends! Like that! That’s the end of the movie. Oh wait! There’s a fireworks montage that plays over the closing credits...in case you didn’t get your fill of fireworks from the fireworks montage that happened earlier in the movie...back before my hair went completely grey. And oh shit--Arnold Palmer was in this movie?? As himself!? How did I miss that!? I could totally drink an iced tea with lemonade right now. And whiskey. Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!