fistoflegendblog

Warner Bros. opened “Eight Days a Week” to narrow release in 1997, then shelved it in compensation nine years beforehand oblation it on DVD. What did they know that we don’t? Well, that depends on your tolerance as far as something another horny-teen flick, no situation that it is less grossly insulting than varied of its predecessors.

Michael Davis wrote and directed the movie, the same man who brought us such passenger as “100 Days,” “Girl Fever,” and “Monster Hamper.” He begins “Eight Days a Week” in the most untoward manner possible with some thundering, raucous, mid-nineties’ pop music, which in itself should be enough to warn a few viewers off.

Then we learn from the main character’s part-terminated that he is a teenager named Peter (Josh Schaefer), just graduated from high school, who has a fixation on a girl in his neighborhood, Erica (Keri Russell), who is going away to college at the end of the summer. He’s known Erica most of his life, and he’s apparently only at this very moment fallen ardently in love with her. But she (dread of dreads) “just wants to be friends.” Of course, he may have good noticed that Erica is a knockout. It’s condensed to let something be known what exactly is going through Peter’s brains except that he is obsessed with her and takes every opportunity to stare at her more unhidden assets. Erica, throughout her district, takes delight in exposing as much of herself as admissible to Peter without truly removing any of her clothing, like frolicking in the sprinklers in a see-in all respects undershirt.

In his voice-over, Peter exhibits the usual horny-teen movie’s preoccupation with breasts and retired parts, which earns the film an R rating. (Amazingly, though, for all the movie’s sexual references, there is almost no actual sex depicted nor any nudity.)

Anyway, with some encouragement from his grandfather (Buck Kartalian, doing his worst Peter Falk imitation, saying “Women are have a weakness for breaking into a bank: It takes nerve, it takes derring-do; sometimes you need a little bit of dynamite to blow the vault”), Peter hits upon a plan to win her love: He will camp out under Erica’s window on the green, day and night, for as long as it takes until she falls in attachment with him. Yes, he is not on the contrary horny, he is an idiot. Strikingly since Erica already has a boyfriend, a macho hotshot football better named Nick (Johnny Green), who drives a bright red Camero. So Peter sits uninvolved Erica’s window for the relax of the movie, and that’s all over it. Peter’s equally horny best friend, Matt (R.D. Robb), helps him pass the tempo by continually espousing the virtues of self compensation (a watermelon is his object of choice).

As with all adults in all teen movies, the parents in this one are just as idiotic as their youngster, if not more so. Peter’s parents imprison him out of the house and refuse to feed him during his vigil; while Erica’s parents, ultraconservative Christians, are delighted to pay the way for big Chief interested in their daughter besides the no-legitimate Take in and feed Peter on gingerbread crosses bedecked with what look along the same lines as sugar-confectionery Christs.

Nothing in “Eight Days a Week” is too amusing, and the pacing is more than a little depressed. Sitting on Erica’s front lawn, flicks. Peter watches the neighborhood in the direction of enjoyment, and, frankly, watching the grass arise would sire been more witty for me than watching this talking picture.

The only minor note of expectation in this hapless affair is when Peter notices a neighbor acting suspiciously, and we get a series of ephemeral references to Hitchcock’s “Rear Window.” Other than that, we are fundamentally Heraldry sinister to wonder what, besides Erica’s gorgeous looks, would put to rights Peter so consumed by her, particularly if she is a person who is so attracted to a lunkhead like Nick. Besides, she even thinks that Roger Moore is the best James Contract. Oh, dear.