The world according to Haim

I'm totally depressed and it's all Corey Haim's fault. Thanks to the guys over at Reel Horror, I've been made privy to the 1989 straight-to-video blockbuster Corey Haim: Me, Myself & I, a short film that Corey put together for his "fans." According to IMDb, the real point of this masterpiece was to serve as damage control, as this was around the time that Corey started getting bad press about his drug use. Obviously, the powers-that-be behind the Corey empire are just as deluded as as the people that keep allowing Britney out into public, because, well...you have to watch it. Here, I'll even embed it so we can watch it together (sort of). Just do it. I'll wait. Then we'll analyze:

Warning: this is going to be a long post because, as you just saw, there is oh-so-much to cover. Let's start at the beginning: Corey and his frost n' tip hair are sitting on a cushy white couch as the camera zooms in on him. He does this weird sideways smirk thing with his mouth and makes that little chin-up head nod thing that K-Fed always does and says, "Whassup? Hel-lo!" I think he's trying to be sexy here, but it comes off like he's the 25-year-old burnout working behind the counter at Chik-Fil-A who tries to hit on all the 12-year-olds that come in. Also, he's clearly on something; my guess is 'ludes. And are those rubber Madonna bracelets I see there, Calvin Klein??

Next they show some hapless flunkie pumping air into a giant inflatable alligator, which is for Corey to float around the pool on. I guess this is supposed to give us a taste of the glam Hollywood lifestyle that Corey leads. I mean, it's not like any of us can blow up an alligator float and laze around in a pool all day. We are also not on the forefront of the fashion scene, like Corey is with his Ray-Bans and '80s neon-yellow parachute swim trunks. He also affords the luxury of having an entirely separate duckie-shaped float for his drink that is floating along behind him. We see cuts of him on the alligator interspersed throughout the segment, including riveting "behind-the-scenes" footage of PAs jerking the float around to get a better shot and also pulling the float over to the side of the pool. The soundtrack features this totally tubular background music that sounds like the jukebox at The Max on Saved by the Bell. This is what living large in Tinseltown is all about, kids!

We're then treated to some outstanding Corey quotes about what he's been up to and his favorite "projects." Bear in mind that this was made in '89, when Jimmy Hollywood had a whopping nine feature films under his belt. Here are some of of his riveting statements, all delivered with a smug little grin and a pseudo-intellectual haughtiness:

The direction in my life right now, that I'm trying to, I guess, proceed with, in the business is, gradually, from being the little boy, from the younger, you know, brother, to trying to be the older brother. Or the only brother.

Is there someone I look up to? Uh, yeah. Um. I look up to John Ritter, just because, I guess, he's a physical comedian. Um, and I enjoy that. (followed by Corey inexplicably screaming, "My man Three's Company! Jack Tripper! Furrr-laayyy!")

I'm trying to get in the habit of, you know, picking up a book and learning how to write my feelings down. Not my feelings, but my thoughts, about things.

Someone sign this guy up for Toastmasters, stat. This is worse than watching Bush try to debate.

Now we come to my favorite part: the "music" segment. Corey reveals the bombshell that he likes to "slap on the headphones and dibble-dabble on the keyboards", which is followed by a clip of him sitting in front of about eight synthesizers and pushing one button with one finger one time. Does anyone remember Praga Kahn? It's kind of like a horrifying version of that with some shitty, Corey-added C+C Music Factory-esque overdubs "dibble-dabbled" in. I'm surprised he isn't just sitting in his bedroom with his Casio keyboard set to bossanova and plinking away on one key to create his awesome music.

I bet you're wondering what kind of music this man-of-many-talents likes best. The answer is: "That Japanese funk!" OK, Corey, what the fuck is that? I'll tell you exactly what it is: there's no such thing! Corey is clearly one of those guys that makes up genres so he sounds like he's the cool, hip guy in school that knows all about some underground scene that no one else has ever heard of. Everyone knows someone like this: "Nah, Duran Duran's too mainstream for me. I'm into Japanese funk. Oh, you've never heard of it? Well, it hasn't made it over here yet." Ug! I hate that!

Get ready, because it gets worse: while the production team is setting up, Corey occupies himself by jamming out on the synths, because he obviously just can't stop himself from creating, and voice-overs "We are all born with a certain inner rhythm! Hearing a certain song can remind you of a time or event in your life that was special!" Sort of like how "Head Like A Hole" reminds me of the 1991 Haim hit Prayer of the Rollerboys? Oh, wait, no it doesn't! Because that time or event in my life wasn't special. Corey is obvs into his own special little moment because he embarrassingly flails around playing air guitar and banging his head like Rainman and exclaiming, "Let's get all funky!" while the idiot director eggs him on. Looks to me like someone might have bumped into something on the way to the studio, if you know what I mean. Here's more evidence. Next up, we see him at a photo shoot wearing a vest with nothing underneath it. Here we can see that he has what looks like the bat symbol tattooed on his arm. Jesus Christ, he is seriously K-Fed...

Can't take the heat that is emulating from your computer screen? Then let's take it down a notch with a few more thought-provoking quotes. Prepare to have your mind blown:

I have to say, the way I'm feeling, nowadays, would have to be: intense. Powerful.

I think maybe ten years from now, I'm hopefully going to be, in like, Tahiti or something kicking back like in my huge mansion, if everything goes right, it's all up to me, just watching like the dolphins, and the porpoises and the sharks and the little sea horses and all that fun stuff go by in a whole different country, while things happen back here.

What does kissing really mean to me? To me, if you feel, when you kiss a girl, that certain feeling of all those dolphins, like, swimming through your bloodstream, and you get those good tingles inside your stomach, I don't think there's anything better than kissing. It basically comes down to that word: Love. I guess that's what it's all about.

Does crack consumption make you see dolphins or something? Because I think he's obsessed. What in the name of all that's holy is the matter with this guy?? I can't get over it. I'm thinking it's just some unfortunate combination of ego, fame, stupidity, and drug consumption. Is this where Lohan is headed? If so, please let her handlers be smarter than Corey's and never allow her to release a "fan video" to strengthen her tarnished image. I don't think I could handle seeing Lohan in something like this. Anyway, interspersed with these profound musings are more modeling shots of Corey, including one of him doing a drunken, off-balance karake kick and one of him wearing a badass leather jacket with skulls on the back...with a color-block shirt buttoned all the way up to his neck.

For the final scene, Corey dons a suit and treats his fans to some final words of wisdom:

Growing up on movie sets has its ups and its downs...all of it sounds like fun. But when you're 12 or 13 years old, you're very, very impressionable and I know it's easy to get off track...so be smart. Don't get messed up. Stay in school. Be anybody you want to be.

It should be noted that this inspirational message is delivered with a glassy-eyed stare, figety hand gesticulations and through several cuts that make it obvious this wasn't done in one take. That big faker is high as a fucking kite! Do you think your fans are stupid, Corey? We can see right through your Revlon Frost N' Glow hair...that shit was done at home! I swear I remember seeing some show where Corey was blathering about his "rock bottom" and how he did an anti-drug commercial while he was strung out. Could this be it? I don't think this was even near his rock bottom. He stole pizza and took 85 Valiums a day! Doesn't seem like things went right, unless he's on enough stuff that he thinks his mom's apartment is a mansion in Tahiti with dolphins and seahorses floating by the windows.

God, I'm utterly humiliated that I used to like this guy. I mean, I had my wall plastered with Corey posters! If there had been a Corey Haim hotline, I would have been like Lisa Simpson, running up the family's phone bill with late-night calls to hear the latest Corey news. Readers, I am ashamed of myself! All that time wasted when I could have been obsessing over someone more worthwhile, like John Taylor or Michael Hutchence. Please don't hold it against me; I was only 12! And I got over it and moved on to Nikki Sixx and Duff McKagan. That's a step up, right? Even so, it still makes me want to run into the path of an oncoming train. Maybe I need more dolphins in my life...or keyboard dibble-dabbling...or something.


Lola said...

Has there ever been a better rant than this? Ever? I think not. I love you, man! It's like I was there!

Anonymous said...

Just Googling and stumbled across your blog (because y'know, who the fuck are you really?)

I hope when you take time out to stop masturbaing over your own brilliance and razor sharp wit, you realize that you spent God knows how long (editing, reworking, making sure your online genius is razor sharp) mocking a sick person. He was 16 fucking years old and desperately ill. Still is. I'm no 'fan', but I'd rather hang out with a semi-recovered Haim (who seems like a genuinely decent person beneath his obvious mistakes) than some holier than thou blog-fuck who no-one knows. What goes around, comes around. You're sicker than he ever was.

*cue comments than I'm a Haim-fan/Haim himself etc etc etc*