Bubba Hotep
I first heard Bubba Hotep described as "Bruce Campbell plays an aging Elvis Presley..." and that's all I needed to hear to know I wanted to see the movie. It turns out there's more, though; Elvis teams up with an aging, black JFK to fight a reanimated mummy who's stealing the souls of their fellow convalescence home residents. It sounds utterly bizarre, and I expected it to be bizarre and lacking in depth.
It isn't. There was a point about forty five minutes into the movie where I realized all the elements fit into a cohesive whole. Bubba Hotep isn't some goofy B-movie destined only to show a few bare breasts, use bathroom humor, and make you laugh at its absurd characters. It does so, but it also serves as a meditation on aging and the meaning of life. Initially, it bludgeons the viewer with references to body parts and bodily functions, seeming vulgar until you realize the film wants you to know how much the lives of these characters have become about bodily functions and nothing else. The listless, petty residents of the home seem like a standard horror film weirdos but then you see they serve as a contrast to the main characters. Elvis, JFK, and the mummy serve as physical manifestations of primal, mythical archetypes. The genius is the absurdity of the juxtapositions of these characters combined with the earnest depictions of them the film provides.
Elvis is as potent a symbol of virility as any in American folklore; he was a sex god at a time when this country's hormones were just beginning to pump. He rose to superstardom and had a short fall stopped only by his death. What better symbol of a life past its prime could there be? The Elvis of Bubba Hotep is a man who traded away all his money and his fame for a simpler life. He didn't expect to be struck with a debilitating hip injury that would cause him to lose his lust for life, his soul. When we meet him, we find he spends his days longing for the past, or for someone to tell of his exploits. No one will listen. How could this weak, grumpy geezer with a cancerous growth on his pecker be that source of power and magnetism? He isn't. Like all of us, he made a choice somewhere along the line to trade his power for something he thought he wanted. Then he couldn't get it back.
As Elvis begins to realize that he is missing something, he starts to find it in Jack Kennedy, an old black man who claims that the portion of his brain blown out of his head in the Dallas assassination has been replaced with a bag of sand, while the original brain is somewhere in D.C. running on batteries. It's obvious to Elvis that the JFK he knows cannot be the same one that was killed that day in Dallas, yet he respects the man because of his passion. When the mummy appears, JFK is the one who does the research needed to learn the mummy's secrets. Despite his mental illness, JFK knows what he wants in life and goes after it. He reawakens those same feelings in Elvis by believing in him, even if his JFK persona is a farce itself.
The mummy, seemingly the most out of place element of the film, proves to be the core. He is the personification not of death, but of the loss of life, something that can occur regardless of the health of the body. The movie talks a lot about souls being sucked out through assholes and shit out like so much toilet water; this strikes Elvis. How did he give away his soul all those years ago? Was it just a piece of excrement to be flushed away? The mummy brings into sharp focus what he has lost and shows him how to gain it back.
The themes are universal but ones we don't see too often in popular media. No one wants to talk about what happens as you age. It's scary, and it doesn't just happen to people in convalescence homes. At age 26, I can feel my soul being sucked out of my asshole; perhaps I will be missing it the next 60 years? Perhaps we all need to stop that from happening for ourselves.
The film looks great, belying it's low budget. Its principle actors are fantastic; who else but Bruce Campbell could play a 70 year old Elvis Presley tromping around with a walker? Ossie Davis brings both solemnity and gusto to his JFK. For such a respected and dignified actor, he seems remarkably comfortable delivering lines like one where he offers Elvis a Ding Dong, well not his, but a chocolate Ding Dong, though he supposed his would be chocolate at that. Somehow, a seemingly crazy idea for a story came together as a beautiful and moving picture. Oh yeah, and it's funny, too.
It isn't. There was a point about forty five minutes into the movie where I realized all the elements fit into a cohesive whole. Bubba Hotep isn't some goofy B-movie destined only to show a few bare breasts, use bathroom humor, and make you laugh at its absurd characters. It does so, but it also serves as a meditation on aging and the meaning of life. Initially, it bludgeons the viewer with references to body parts and bodily functions, seeming vulgar until you realize the film wants you to know how much the lives of these characters have become about bodily functions and nothing else. The listless, petty residents of the home seem like a standard horror film weirdos but then you see they serve as a contrast to the main characters. Elvis, JFK, and the mummy serve as physical manifestations of primal, mythical archetypes. The genius is the absurdity of the juxtapositions of these characters combined with the earnest depictions of them the film provides.
Elvis is as potent a symbol of virility as any in American folklore; he was a sex god at a time when this country's hormones were just beginning to pump. He rose to superstardom and had a short fall stopped only by his death. What better symbol of a life past its prime could there be? The Elvis of Bubba Hotep is a man who traded away all his money and his fame for a simpler life. He didn't expect to be struck with a debilitating hip injury that would cause him to lose his lust for life, his soul. When we meet him, we find he spends his days longing for the past, or for someone to tell of his exploits. No one will listen. How could this weak, grumpy geezer with a cancerous growth on his pecker be that source of power and magnetism? He isn't. Like all of us, he made a choice somewhere along the line to trade his power for something he thought he wanted. Then he couldn't get it back.
As Elvis begins to realize that he is missing something, he starts to find it in Jack Kennedy, an old black man who claims that the portion of his brain blown out of his head in the Dallas assassination has been replaced with a bag of sand, while the original brain is somewhere in D.C. running on batteries. It's obvious to Elvis that the JFK he knows cannot be the same one that was killed that day in Dallas, yet he respects the man because of his passion. When the mummy appears, JFK is the one who does the research needed to learn the mummy's secrets. Despite his mental illness, JFK knows what he wants in life and goes after it. He reawakens those same feelings in Elvis by believing in him, even if his JFK persona is a farce itself.
The mummy, seemingly the most out of place element of the film, proves to be the core. He is the personification not of death, but of the loss of life, something that can occur regardless of the health of the body. The movie talks a lot about souls being sucked out through assholes and shit out like so much toilet water; this strikes Elvis. How did he give away his soul all those years ago? Was it just a piece of excrement to be flushed away? The mummy brings into sharp focus what he has lost and shows him how to gain it back.
The themes are universal but ones we don't see too often in popular media. No one wants to talk about what happens as you age. It's scary, and it doesn't just happen to people in convalescence homes. At age 26, I can feel my soul being sucked out of my asshole; perhaps I will be missing it the next 60 years? Perhaps we all need to stop that from happening for ourselves.
The film looks great, belying it's low budget. Its principle actors are fantastic; who else but Bruce Campbell could play a 70 year old Elvis Presley tromping around with a walker? Ossie Davis brings both solemnity and gusto to his JFK. For such a respected and dignified actor, he seems remarkably comfortable delivering lines like one where he offers Elvis a Ding Dong, well not his, but a chocolate Ding Dong, though he supposed his would be chocolate at that. Somehow, a seemingly crazy idea for a story came together as a beautiful and moving picture. Oh yeah, and it's funny, too.