In which Jason and Bobbin Wages review the trailer for Mannequin Two: On the Move.
Hi, Bobbin. Is it just me, or does Meshach Taylor’s “Hollywood Montrose” character in Mannequin Two: On the Move have too many mannequins coming to life at his place of business? How does he get any work done over the constant rotation of Starship’s “Nothing’s Gonna Stop Us Now”?
I guess he brings it on himself. His job as a window dresser is pretty mannequin-centric. You know the old saying—mannequins achieving sentience around me once, shame on you. Mannequins achieving sentience around me twice, shame on me!
When I was a kid, my grandmother was horrified to find me looking up a mannequin’s dress on the way out of a department store. She audibly gasped and yanked me by the arm right through the front doors of JCPenney. I don’t know why she was so scandalized, all I did when I got home was sit on my bed and wonder what it would be like to be an inanimate object.
I struggled with the concept. How did mannequins think? Could they feel anything? The best I could come up with was imagining being frozen. A mannequin upskirt was my first breakthrough in grasping what it means to have consciousness.
I can tell you one thing, though—if Meshach Taylor had been in that JCPenney when I was looking up that mannequin’s skirt, it would have come to life right there on the spot. He’s like King Midas, except every mannequin he touches turns to white women who are ready to fall in love. Which probably would have benefited King Midas more than Hollywood Montrose.
Hey, Jason. You’re preaching to the choir about Hollywood Montrose’s work productivity. In addition to encouraging fraternization amongst coworkers and departmental mannequin inventory, he probably can’t see well through the gaudy sunglasses he sports while on the job. I would know – I tried to teach hip hop aerobics classes in the mid-2000s in the same pair of pink glittery glasses he flaunts in the original Mannequin film.
God forbid that Hollywood Montrose re-wear said eyewear during any given fiscal year. That would constitute career suicide; hopefully Hollywood’s supervisor will note this in his next performance review.
I applaud you for having the foresight to look up the skirt of a mannequin before Meshach Taylor came along and turned her into a gorgeous yet inexplicably heartsick babe. In kindergarten I shocked my teacher by stealing a glimpse up her peasant dress during nap time. I never fell asleep during nap time. While my classmates snoozed on their cots, I stared at them or my teacher while she reapplied make-up at her desk. One afternoon, Miss Turner stopped alongside my cot to stuff our cubbyholes with progress reports. Like a gymnast, I maneuvered my body perpendicular to my bed’s bars until I could crane my neck beneath the multiple layers of disappointingly prudish crinoline. Just as I spotted a slit of butt cheek, Miss Turner gasped and realized she had a Peeping Bob between her legs.
If only Meshach had been there to turn Miss Turner into a mannequin so I could study the female anatomy – a misunderstood, innocent endeavor like your own mishap in JCPenney, Jason.
Do Hollywood Montrose’s powers extend to turning regular women back into mannequins?! I always assumed he was just some sort of Tsutomu Yamaguchi of mannequin magic. Now you’re telling me he’s got the ability to turn flesh-and-blood women into wooden statues perfect for showcasing casual summer dresses from Old Navy?!
This is what Kanye West was talking about when he sang, “No one man should have all that power”.
What happens if Hollywood decides to use his gifts for evil? What if he steps on a power line or gets bitten by a radioactive Andrew McCarthy? If his powers become intensified, he could turn the world’s entire female population to mannequins before you can say, “cellulite city!”
Then he’ll have his pick of a planet of lonely men. He’ll sit on a throne made of mannequins that were once beautiful women, as a reminder to the world of his dark retail-based sorcery. A pink glittery glass crown will sit upon his head. He’ll have complete control over the Earth’s population, releasing women from their wooden bonds only after his demands are met, and only then to breed more loyal subjects.
Is this what Starship was referring to when they prophesized a time when this “world runs out of lovers?” Gaze upon the face of your new God, Bobbin. Nothing’s going to stop him now. NOTHING.
I thought Meshach Taylor’s mannequin-to-bombshell/bombshell-to-mannequin superpowers were common knowledge. How else could Anthony, the lovable delivery man from Designing Women, ever get Julia Sugarbaker to shut up? Anthony claimed to have been incarcerated for unknowingly participating in a convenience store robbery, but he actually served time for transforming his two-timing ex-girlfriend into a Planned Parenthood mannequin display advertising the importance that young women receive the Gardasil vaccine.
Because of his arrest, Anthony learned to use his gift only for acts of good. In season four, Anthony freezes Suzanne Sugarbaker for several weeks to help her lose weight. I would hate to compete with Julia’s physique. Poor Delta Burke; I almost named my new cat Delta per her corpulence.
I appreciate your willingness to discuss the diversity of religion, though. Your open-mindedness reminds me of my brief phase attending the First Existentialist Congregation of Atlanta, where anyone from a poet to a yoga instructor to a Zen Buddhist named Bambi could deliver the Sunday morning service.
Perhaps we should arrange for Meshach Taylor, dressed as Hollywood Montrose of course, to address the congregation. Surely he would cover topics such as “outer beauty” and “grace for thugs.” However, the Kirkwood kids who have been terrorizing East Atlanta and the formerly safe haven of Oakhurst are not deserving of said grace. After Meshach facilitates the E church’s spiritual growth, everyone in attendance should ditch their covered dish plans and hunt those thugs down, speaking in tongues while Meshach turns them into mannequins.
Meshach will open the sky, axes will fall from the heavens, and Meshach will dance to the beat of a random bongo drum while the stuttering First Existentialist brothers and sisters hack the thugs apart. Meshach will wave a Barbie baton and create a cyclone that sucks the axes and thug shards back into the sky because while cleaning up the streets he remains conscientious enough not to litter.
All hail Meshach Taylor!
Released in theaters May 17, 1991.