MAGNET contributing writer Jud Cost is sharing some of the wealth of classic films he’s been lucky enough to see over the past 40 years. Trolling the backwaters of cinema, he has worked up a list of more than 100 titles—from the ’20s through the ’80s—that you may have missed. A new selection, all currently available on DVD, appears every week.
Border Radio (1987, 83 minutes)
Shot on the cheap in black and white from 1983-87 by Allison Anders and two UCLA film-school friends, Border Radio bears a passing resemblance to Jim Jarmusch’s 1984 picture Stranger Than Paradise. Musicians are used as actors with plenty of improvised dialogue, and both films have an unhurried, noir-ish vibe.
Border Radio features survivors of the Los Angeles punk scene, with Chris D. of the Flesheaters playing Jeff Bailey, whose band has been cheated out of some money by a club owner named Skelley. Jeff and his bass player Dean (John Doe of X), along with their roadie Chris (Chris Shearer), crack the club’s safe and take off with a thousand bucks they feel is rightfully theirs.
As he’s counting a short stack of $50 bills, Jeff is startled when three of Skelley’s thugs smash the window in his front door. He ducks into the closet just in time. The phone rings, and the intruders listen as Dean leaves a message: “Listen, man, we’re in deep shit with this Skelley thing! We gotta haul ass outta here! Remember that old drive-in off Highway 14? Meet me there. No telling how long we’ll have to be gone, so bring a lot of beer. You’d better be there for me, man!” One of the goons chuckles, “Heh, heh, let’s go get Dean.”
Dressed in a white T-shirt, pulled-down suspenders and a straw cowboy hat, Dean rolls into the drive-in’s parking lot, gets out of his truck and studies the Racing Form while waiting for Jeff. When a Jeep with three occupants arrives instead, Dean runs for the truck, but the ignition won’t turn over. They pull him to the ground and beat him to a pulp. Meanwhile, Jeff is hightailing it down to Mexico to strum his guitar and drink beer at his trailer on the Pacific coast.
“County morgue,” answers Chris after paddling over to the telephone while floating on an air mattress in his parents’ pool. “I’m kinda busy, and I don’t know too much about babysitting,” he tells Jeff’s wife, Luanna (Luanna Anders, the director’s sister). “It would only be for a couple of days. When I get back, maybe we could go out together,” she says, desperate for someone to watch her daughter while she drives to Mexico to find Jeff. “Hmm, possible sex,” says Chris. “I guess I ain’t that busy. I’ll take her out to the dumps, and we’ll play in the refrigerators.”
About 10 years ago, I asked John Doe about Border Radio, one of his earliest acting jobs. “Oh my god,” he groaned, “I wouldn’t watch it on a bet. I wouldn’t watch it if somebody paid me!” By 2011, he’d changed his tune. “I guess they did know what they were doing,” he confided. “It’s a pretty good movie.”
