The year is 2020, and it’s the middle of March. Beware of the Ides of March amiright?! A deadly virus has begun to spread across the globe. Because some dude ate a bat. People are panicking and madly scrambling to buy survival supplies. Putting and extra emphasis on buying an ASS-load of toilet paper. A reality show host turned President of the United States ordered the entire population to shelter-in-place. Not getting political here, but that just helps with the theme, so go with it.
It sure sounds like the makings of a B-grade horror movie right? Wrong. This is our reality. And it’s been dragging on for 10 long months. Or years – honestly, I’ve lost track. With the majority of us having to shelter in place for at least some stretch of meaningful time, most of us have undoubtedly experienced a big twinge of cabin fever. For me personally, that cabin fever translated into big fat doses of insomnia for the first few months of the pandemic. Sure, I could watch regular old TV, Netflix, or Korean baseball in the wee hours of the morning. But after a while, sitting there watching the TV talk at you in the depressing hours of two or three in the A.M. got a little lonely. I needed a little help to get me out of my funk. Something to take my brain, pet it a little, and say “everything’s going to be okay.”
And when my cabin-fevered, sleep-deprived mind was nearing boost or bust, fate was right there waiting in the form of an iTunes billing glitch.
A month or so before the pandemic started pandemic-ing, my good pal, Andrew, visited from Houston. We’d always enjoyed kicking back and watching good old fashioned bad horror movies, and this weekend was no exception. Andrew heard about a new movie that was exclusive to Shudder, a streaming service solely dedicated to horror movies and shows, and suggested we watch that. In order to access the flick, I had to sign up for a free week-long trial for the service and allow access to my iTunes for potential future billing. I didn’t think much about it, figuring I would simply cancel after the free trial and not be charged. Easy peazy. Expect it wasn’t. Even though I cancelled as planned, I was still charged for a month of the service – a whopping $5.99.
Frustrated at losing out on six bills that could’ve bought me a 6-pack of Lone Star, I figured I’d at least get some use out of the damn thing. After browsing and watching a movie or two, I finally stumbled upon one of the greatest American treasures I’ve ever laid my two eyes and one functioning ear on – a show called The Last Drive-In.
Who would’ve thought that one of the best remedies for those witching hour woes, worrying about this low-budget, nightmarish movie world we are currently living in would be…well…low-budget, nightmarish movies. But these weren’t just any poorly scripted flicks with plots featuring more wholes than swiss cheese. In fact, the movies weren’t even the main attraction. They were just the source material for the real show – the host, Mr. Joe Bob Briggs.
Some of us Millennials may recognize the name from our days of staying up late watching cable movies and eating Pizza Hut at sleep overs when we were kids. Joe Bob Briggs is a renowned movie critic, writer, and horror host best known for his days as the bolo tie-wearing, Lone Star-sipping, comedically rant-prone king of Monstervision on TNT. As the host, he guided viewers through movies – most often horror or horror-esque – with segments in between commercial breaks.
I’m sure I watched dozens of movies back in the day while he was hosting Monstervision, but I was too young at the time to appreciate the commentary and personality he brought to every movie viewing.
Fast forward 17 years after his final TNT appearance to 2018, this horror hero was resurrected and given the keys to The Last Drive-In on Shudder where he breathed new undead life into his hosting persona. The gist of the show was the same as Monstervision, but even better:
· Open with Joe Bob sitting on his favorite rusty lawn chair outside of his trailer in front of and old tube TV with a trusty, ice-cold Texas juice – Lone Star – in his hands. Sometimes he’s inside the trailer on his favorite long-horn adorned recliner too. From here, he introduces the movie we are about to see in his comforting Texas twang along with a good long rant that may or may not have anything to do with the flick.
· Deliver the Drive-In Totals for the movie – including body count, bare breast count, styles of action/violence/combat we are about to witness via adding “-fu” to the end of many a random nouns (Ex. Chainsaw-fu, Vending machine-fu), types of limbs we will see rolling, awards for quirky performances, etc.
· Throughout the movie, it cuts back to Joe Bob commenting on the story – or lack thereof – unfolding while sharing fascinating fun facts about the films. From background info on the directors to production fiascos and even interviews with cast members, his knowledge and delivery never disappoint.
· After the credits roll, close with a “dirty old man joke” from Joe Bob while Darcy the Mail Girl, his partner in crime, rolls her eyes.
Speaking of Darcy, I’d be remiss if I didn’t emphasize her importance to the show. Her official title is “mail girl,” but she delivers so much more. She adds balance, humor, and a benevolent sweetness to each episode. Beyond her on-screen time, she is the queen of interacting with fans on social media and making them feel like they are important. Because they are! She encourages fans to share their love for the show and put their own content and creativity on display. Most importantly she delivers an unforced presence that says, “It’s okay to like weird things.” Here you have a cool and darn good-looking gal sharing her love of the genre by dressing up like some of the characters we see in the movies. This serves to help tell all us weirdoes that it’s okay to have our own brand of fun since there is an entire community of people who support our quirkiness. The Last Drive-In wouldn’t be the same without her. Thanks Darcy!
Given everything we’ve covered so far, The Last Drive-In has put together a pretty awesome little formula that puts a big fat smile on horror movie fans’ faces. But the soul of the show – what makes it truly special – is Joe Bob’s personality. Simply put, he’s just fun. He doesn’t take himself too seriously, he’s not pompous (even when he goes off on an opinionated rant), and he is mighty genuine. He’s the kind of guy you’d like to hang out with and enjoy a beer or thirteen every Friday night. Joe Bob creates an experience that just goes beyond. Beyond what you ask? Beyond casual viewing. Beyond expectations. Beyond what we deserve. When you click the play button to start a Last Drive-In episode, you aren’t watching Joe Bob. You are watching with Joe Bob.
So far, The Last Drive-In has given us two full regular seasons plus several holiday specials. To me personally, the show has given me the following:
· An invaluable way to connect with my best friends from afar during a time when we can’t be together in person
· Inspiration to put together a drive-in themed movie setup in the garage
· A Cameo appearance on my bachelor party
· A social media interaction that led to an inquiry of Joe Bob officiating my wife and my wedding after multiple officiants had to cancel because of the pandemic
· My final movie experience as a single man (along with several Lone Stars) just before tying the knot – the flick was Sleepaway Camp
One of the aforementioned holiday specials was called “Joe Bob Saves Christmas.” Like all the other episodes, it was fantastic, and my friends and I had a blast watching it together through a video call. But Joe Bob, my friend, you’ve done more than just save Christmas. You’ve saved the sanity of myself and so many others during this trying time. You’ve given us a friend to hang out with when nobody else is awake. You’ve entertained us and you’ve made us laugh – and damn near cry a few times. You’ve given my friends and me, and I’m sure many others, a way to connect from afar when circumstances haven’t allowed us to socialize like we used to. You’ve given us something to look forward to. You’ve delivered a sense of hope that allows us to drop our guard and enjoy a few carefree and stress-free hours amidst a time when those are few and far between. You’ve delivered words, anecdotes, and takes that really matter to us.
Joe Bob, you matter to us.
You, sir, are our horror hero!