Tag Archives: Freaky Friday

Freaky Friday (1976): They’ll Play Batdance At Our Funeral

Freaky Friday (1976): They’ll Play Batdance At Our Funeral

In which Jason and Jack Walsh review the 1976 trailer for Freaky Friday. Part of a series of trailer reviews for body-switching comedies of the 70′s, 80′s, and 90′s. 


Jack, according to the trailer, here’s what we know for sure about the events of Freaky Friday—Barbara Harris is a teenage mother, Jodie Foster is a middle-aged daughter, and John Astin is a “confused male chauvinist.”

Listen, Jack—John Astin’s not going to let a little thing like not having any idea what’s going on stop him from sexually harassing you. He really captures the befuddled horniness of the 1970’s. If he was being drawn by a caricaturist, he’d have a cartoon question mark above his head and a huge boner.

Also, is that a witch on water skis jumping over a guy buried in the sand? Now I’m the one who’s confused with a boner.


I knew I should have trademarked the phrase “Confused With A Boner” before I put it on my business cards. Now everybody’s throwing it around like just another “YOLO.” It’s just as well, I guess. Angry phone calls from the manager of Chili’s were all that tossing that card into the “Win a Free Lunch!” fishbowl ever seemed to get me. But, what can you do? CWAB, baby!

When I agreed to review the trailer for Freaky Friday, I’d assumed that it would be the full theatrical trailer and not a quickie TV spot. There’s hardly anything to go on here, especially since I’ve been asked not to mention Lindsay Lohan in this, the one Scene Missing trailer review where it would have actually made sense. Are you sure I can’t convince you to do the trailer for Gorky Park like I wanted to? What if I told you that it’s a changing-places movie, too, and that William Hurt and Lee Marvin do the old Moscow Switcheroo? I mean, I know that isn’t the case, but even if Hurt and Marvin were just to walk past each other in the film, it would have to be a more convincing persona-swap than the one suggested by the special effects in the Freaky Friday trailer.

You know what was a real missed opportunity back in the day? A Lee Marvin/Lee Van Cleef switch-up. I always got those guys confused because a) Lee, obviously and b) they were both in movies with Clint Eastwood that my dad made me watch. Now I’m kind of sad that the world never got that iteration of Freaky Friday. Then, instead of somebody really getting into Jodie Foster and shooting President Reagan, you would have absolutely nobody getting really into Lee Marvin and shooting anybody. Except in The Killers, where I’m pretty sure Lee Marvin shoots Ronald Reagan. But maybe, just maybe, it was Lee Van Cleef all along.

Like Father Like Son

Like Father Like Son

In which Jason and Kat Greene review the trailer for Like Father Like Son. Part of a series of trailer reviews for body-switching comedies of the 70′s, 80′s, and 90′s. 


Kat, I hate to break this to you, but everything you know about Dudley Moore and Kirk Cameron? Flip it. Arthur 2: On the Rocks? Flipped. Your Mike Seaver from Growing Pains poster? Flip. That. Shit. We got a real Christmas in Australia situation going on here.

Going forward, all Dudley Moore related matters will go directly to Kirk Cameron. All official Kirk Cameron business is now under the jurisdiction of Dudley Moore. Sean Astin stuff will continue to go to Sean Astin, unless Elijah Wood says otherwise. However, the magnetic poles of the Earth have been reversed, so Morgan Freeman will need to re-narrate March of the Penguins to reflect the change.

If you have any letters addressed to D. Moore or K. Cameron, please place a strikethrough on their names and write their corrected titles above the address field, followed by RE: LIKE FATHER LIKE SON. Also, the rapture has been postponed until God can finish watching the last half of this movie, so he can be sure that when he calls Kirk Cameron home to receive his heavenly rewards, it’s not actually Dudley Moore’s soul hiding out in Kirk Cameron’s body trying to scam his way into a free golden harp and halo.


The really unfortunate thing about all of this is how much hate mail I’ve now accidentally sent to the wrong person. Listen to me, Jason: Mike Seaver is a little shit, and don’t you forget it. I know I won’t.

You know what would be really great, though? A little Sean Astin, all to myself. I don’t think it’s too much to ask to have a tiny hirsute admirer bring me food and carry me up mountains and shit. That’s what’s terrible about this economy, if we’re really getting down to it. There are too few hairy handmaidens, because they’re all too busy trying to earn a living in a currency more universal than my disdainful praise and the glory of being in my presence. The low supply of human Giving Trees is forcing the price up, and I just don’t know how much more condescension I’m willing to dole out in exchange for groveling and chores. Then again, nothing’s worse than having to make your own second breakfast, Jason. Nothing.

Vice Versa

Vice Versa

In which Jason and Kate Sweeney review the trailer for Vice Versa. Part of a series of trailer reviews for body-switching comedies of the 70′s, 80′s, and 90′s. 


You know how I can tell this is going to be a good movie? The trailer starts off with a young Fred Savage holding a skull and sassing his dad. It really adds emphasis to your sass when you’re holding a skull. A lot of people don’t know this, but Hamlet’s famous soliloquy in which he’s holding a skull is supposed to be performed in a sassy voice. Hamlet was the Jackée of his time. And Macbeth was the Marla Gibbs. In fact, Shakespeare’s entire body of work was essentially the 227 of the 1600’s.

Even the skull has a sassy expression on its face as it vomits body-swapping magic all over Judge Reinhold and Fred Savage. It’s all like, “Gotcha’, bitches!” Much like Jackée, it has a complete inability to understand context when you’re holding it and making wishes. “Figure of speech? Figure this speech—you need to go out and get new shoes! I can see your rapidly aging toes, you body-switching dummies.”

Another way I know this is going to be a good movie? The trailer describes Judge Reinhold as a “successful businessman and self-professed workaholic” inside of whom “beats the heart of a little boy.” Yikes!


So, they swapped hearts? That’s what’s going on? Because I’m no medical expert here, but I’m unconvinced that the heart of a little boy could adequately power the body of a 36-year old man. Their souls switching: Sure. But if it’s literal heart-swapping hijinks, then I’m not prepared to believe this. Because, look at this: We’re led to believe that Fred-as-Judge’s first move in his father’s grown body is to go all wild on a skateboard—as it must be, because this is an ’80s movie, in which skateboarding must necessarily be the ultimate shorthand for rascally joie de vivre (See also, most notably: Marty McFly.) In this case, though, he’d better watch it, because the heart of a little boy shall not beat inside him for long if he doesn’t take a breather.