Poison Ivy (1992)

Bad Movie Heaven! Deranged, demented, and delightful!
"I never knew anyone that looked that much like a slut," Sara Gilbert remarks about teen psycho Drew Barrymore, who literally swings into Gilbert's life on a rope across a significantly deep ravine. "Not that I'm a lesbian," Gilbert says. "Well, maybe I am. I told my mother I was and she said , `Fine, as long as you don't smoke.'" But everyone SMOKES in this swoony saga of the havoc a gal who's been denied hugs can wreak on one wealthy family - like Cheryl Ladd who, as Gilbert's dying mom, breathes fire when she demands, "Give me the Percodan!" or asks Barrymore, as she's trying on Ladd's oxygen mask, "Aren't you afraid of catching death?" Nope, it's Bad Acting that one might catch from this flick, which showcases Barrymore wishing, "I hope that when I die, I'll have had a sports car, a family, and a home. One day with the top down is better than a lifetime in a box."

Barrymore, being tattooed by some sleazeball, urges Gilbert to get one, too; Gilbert shrugs, "I'm not the type," causing Barrymore to rant, "Oh, but I am low class?" Gilbert responds, "You don't have any class," then demonstrates her class by suggesting that instead of borrowing Gilbert's money to pay for the tattoo, Barrymore should (in no uncertain terms) pay the old fashioned way and " - maybe he'll give you a deal." Barrymore avenges herself by arranging for Gilbert to be away when her father Tom Skerritt (fresh from his Wild Orchid 2: Two Shades of Blue triumph) throws a big soiree. Barrymore, looking luscious in Ladd's gown and jewels, helps out instead, asking Skerritt, "Care for anything?"

This leads to the first of the movie's many tasty highlights when, post-party, Barrymore hands Ladd champagne to wash down her painkillers, gives another glass to recovering alcoholic Skerritt, then - when Ladd, more or less unconscious, drops her glass - Barrymore grinds her high heel into the fragments. Skerritt, kneeling at her feet, kisses his way up, up, up her thigh, making Barrymore moan "Ooooh!" as she fingers Skerritt's toupee.

Gilbert, sensing that Barrymore is trouble, snaps, "My dog's a traitor!" and challenges Barrymore to a duel that will test the hound's loyalty. This hilarious "showdown" has the poor dog running back and forth while Barrymore and Gilbert act and act and act variations on "Here, Fred . . . c'mere, Fred."

We haven't even yet mentioned what happens later, like Skerritt making love to Barrymore atop his Mercedes in the rain; like Barrymore killing Ladd, then taking her ashes for a spin in a sports car with, yes, the top down; like Gilbert hallucinating when she catches Barrymore and Skerritt doing it; like Gilbert killing Barrymore; like Gilbert telling us, "I'll miss her." Deranged, demented, delightful.

Isn't It Sad To See Perfectly Good Blank Film Abused This Way?
This is a bad movie.

A really bad movie.

No, I mean it, a really, really bad movie. It's so horrendous you could punish your kids by making them sit through it.

All I can figure is someone went to Sara Gilbert and said, "Hey, how'd you like to make the leap from sit-com to film?" Then that same someone went and promised Tom Skerritt a lot of money to appear as a TMJ suffering sexually sicko father. And of course aging '70's starlet Cheryl Ladd did the film because she'd been out of the limelight a while, and then that leaves Drew Barrymore, who more or less played herself in those wilderness years of her career.

Poison Ivy stinks. If there's ever a choice between seeing it or scrubbing the bathroom tiles, take the more enjoyable option and scrub those tiles till they shine!

Isn't It Sad To See Perfectly Good Blank Film Abused This Way?
This is a bad movie.

A really bad movie.

No, I mean it, a really, really bad movie. It's so horrendous you could punish your kids by making them sit through it.

All I can figure is someone went to Sara Gilbert and said, "Hey, how'd you like to make the leap from sit-com to film?" Then that same someone went and promised Tom Skerritt a lot of money to appear as a TMJ suffering sexually sicko father. And of course aging '70's starlet Cheryl Ladd did the film because she'd been out of the limelight a while, and then that leaves Drew Barrymore, who more or less played herself in those wilderness years of her career.

Poison Ivy stinks. If there's ever a choice between seeing it or scrubbing the bathroom tiles, take the more enjoyable option and scrub those tiles till they shine!