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Creature Comforts and The Last Drive-In (S3E2)

How does one define what comforts another? Every person has a different definition of comfort. It could be as simple as buying a new mattress with a three-inch pillow-top with space-age springs that allow someone to drop a dumbbell next to you yet will never disturb your slumber. There could also be a new flavor of ice cream with sweet cream butter and fudge flakes churned to perfection. There’s also comfort to be found in the power of words and how someone can articulate a topic that interests you—which brings us to the man himself, Joe Bob Briggs, and another episode of The Last Drive-In.

Listening to Joe Bob rattle off factoids and asides mixed in with his trademark wit and humor is something all of us Mutants should be familiar with at this point. Joe Bob has a natural charisma and affection for the topics at hand, which gives comfort to the viewer that whatever he has in his brain will be topically on point. As he said on Season 3, Episode 2 of The Last Drive-In, he lands “on topic, but doesn’t always take the interstate.”

Let’s take a step back for a minute and get back to these space-age mattresses. I have never been one to indulge in high-end furniture or additions to my residence. For more years than I would like to count, I used the same box spring and mattress. You could practically hear the bed screaming out as the springs worked their tails off to penetrate the cheap mattress fibers. For years, this hunk of wood, threads, and springs haunted my bedroom, keeping me up night upon night as I struggled to get a good night’s rest.

After many torturous years, on a cold and snowy February Saturday, I decided to trade in the creature of my bedroom for a creature comfort. I entered the store with an extra pep in my step and took a long look over the store’s inventory. There were mattresses as far as the eye could see—twin beds up to California King mattresses and everything in between. “I’m sleeping good tonight,” I thought to myself.Asami sitting on the floor, a bag and phone in front of her

I spoke with the salesman, decided on a mattress I wanted to spend my nights with for the near future, and whipped out my debit card. I was now the proud owner of a space-age bed with springs in foam fabric that allows me to lay undisturbed on my side of the bed. Unfortunately, the mattress I wanted needed to be ordered from the warehouse, so I didn’t sleep well that night.

After a handful of years with the mattress, I decided to take my first vacation in 15 years. A year before I went on vacation, I found a resort in Puerto Vallarta, Mexico, that looked enticing and scheduled as much as I could beforehand. The area looked nice, right on the ocean, and the resort had reviews that leaned towards positive.

Once I got there, I entered my room and sat down on the bed. As you’ve read earlier, my body has become accustomed to soft, loving mattresses enveloping you with a feeling of being hugged by a cloud. It was quite a surprise when I sat on the bed the “mattress” did not give one inch. Immediately my eyes widened as I attempted to bounce—not one inch of give. Come to find out that the “mattress” was a thin layer of fabric on a concrete “box spring” built into the floor. Who has two thumbs and didn’t sleep for a week? I think you know the answer to that question.

Fast forward a week, and I took the long flight back from Puerto Vallarta to the Northwest of the United States. I’m tired. I’m stiff and supremely sore—just how a vacation should end. After finally landing at the closest airport to me, I still had a 90-minute drive home. I want to pull over and sleep in my vehicle because there’s the padding on my seats: just done. I don’t, though, and tough it out—knowing that a shining beacon is waiting for me. I trudged through my front door after 3 AM, left my luggage in the dining room, and found that glimmer of hope: my mattress. I turned on the light and flopped onto my bed; sinking in, I could feel the love and affection of the space-age fabrics and springs. I have never felt as comfortable as I did the morning I got home from Puerto Vallarta.

And speaking of comfortable—as we get back on the interstate—that is the feeling that Joe Bob and The Last Drive-In crew provide weekly. Some weeks, there are films that I don’t enjoy—but I watch because Joe Bob has an affection for them. Sure, not all movies are four-star classics, but that is what makes him and The Last Drive-In so special. Joe Bob knows and loves his audience, and we love him back.

The horror genre spans further than all others. There are sub-genres to horror, but then you drill down further and find nooks and crannies of specialty horror films that may fall by the wayside. Knowing that Joe Bob is driving the horror train and makes many stops along the way is comforting to us, his audience.

For the latest episode of The Last Drive-In, the first film on the docket was Audition. I don’t think anyone will call the film comforting, but having Joe Bob around to explain the technical nuances and behind-the-scenes information is what keeps us coming back. I enjoy Audition and find it to be a well-made film, and it’s comforting to hear Joe Bob explain his theories on the film—especially as the film nears its conclusion.

Sure, Audition may not be every person’s type of tea, but to those who can stomach what Takashi Miike and writer Daisuke Tengan, it sets our horror minds at ease. The slow build of Audition leaves those who are familiar with the film comforted that we are taking this ride with Joe Bob—and when we get to the final 15 minutes, Joe Bob speaks to us for the last time. He guides us gently into the horrors that titillate our senses. Is Audition a film I would consider comforting? No, but myself, the Mutant Fam, and The Last Drive-In crew take comfort with each other, understanding we are witnessing a film that belongs in the horror hall of fame. 

What’s more comforting to me was the second half of his double feature: Class of 1984. Even though I don’t consider it an outright horror film, I was comforted to see a favorite of mine presented on The Last Drive-In. I don’t remember the exact time that I first saw Class of 1984—truth be told, it might have been on USA Up All Night with Rhonda Shear. I recall that I was younger than ten years old, which may be why the second half of Joe Bob’s double feature this weekend made me feel warm and cozy.Norris threating to punch Stegman

“You find comfort in a film that features a gang rape?” someone may ask. Not at all. What strikes my fancy is that Class of 1984 is the type of film that doesn’t get made anymore. I grew up in the ’80s; I enjoy movies of a certain grit released in the 1970s and 1980s. Nowadays, you can’t get away with a lot of the action, dialogue, and themes that were commonplace 30 to 40 years ago. A film like Class of 1984 speaks to me on a personal level. It transports me and my feelings to a different time—giddy and wonderous.

Having Joe Bob along for the right only enhances the bliss that a film like this can provide: and is what The Last Drive-In stands for. We can get together (even if only electronically), sit ourselves down, grab our favorite beverage and enjoy each other’s company for a few hours out of the week. The Last Drive-In is the type of creature comfort you can’t explain, but you know it when you feel it.

That sounds pretty comfortable to me.

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Written by Robert Chipman

Robert Chipman has had a love of all things horror for as long as he can remember. His favorite horror franchise is the Nightmare on Elm Street series and his favorite horror director is John Carpenter. He thinks the Maniac Cop series is supremely underrated, Demon Knight and In the Mouth of Madness are slept on and loves what Don Mancini has accomplished with the Child's Play franchise.

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