|Because of my last eulogy, I received a lot of heat from readers, including one John Ritter fan with the phrase “princeofdarkness69” in his e-mail address who made the claim that this site “sux” and “wouldn’t know funny if it bit [us] on the ass”. I’ve learned my lesson and won’t use this opportunity to discuss how any of Jonathan’s work could be improved the way I did with Ritter’s TV show 8 Simple Rules for Dating My Daughter (allusions to incest). I will say that if I had written for seaQuest DSV, I would have included a lot more sexual innuendo between Roy Schieder and the psychic dolphin. And I’ll leave it at that.|
I am most familiar with Brandis because of his work in Ladybugs, a Rodney Dangerfield vehicle that allowed Jonathan to dress up as a teenage girl and dominate between the lines on a female soccer team. Outside the lines, of course, he falls in love with one of his teammates and helps Dangerfield learn the true value of higher education by forcing him to go back to school and get his degree. Even though one internet reviewer “did not care for [Dangerfield’s] patented line about ‘finally getting respect’ being mixed in with the techno song during the end credits” that was my favorite part. That was a really good song.
What I remember most about this movie are the circumstance under which I saw it. It was the only time anyone has turned around and yelled at me to “Shut up!!!” in a theatre. This includes the time I screamed “This is the worst fucking movie I’ve ever seen!” during Tomb Raider, once five minutes into it and a second time nearer to the end. This also includes my irrepressible yelping during The Texas Chainsaw Massacre… remake. Ostensibly, the reason I was reproached at Ladybugs was because I was laughing too loudly. Laughing too loudly at Ladybugs?! To be fair, it was during the supposedly serious, high drama of the movie’s climax when the winning soccer kicker was floating in slow motion towards the goal. You know the one. I just thought the use of ball-related slow-mo was even more hilarious than the shot used for Peter Horton’s wicked dig and C. Thomas Howell’s subsequent spike during the finale of the classic beach volleyball flick, Side Out. You know the one.
From Side Out to Sidekicks. Later, Brandis starred as a poor man’s Ralph Machio who overcomes his asthma with homo-erotic daydreams about him and Chuck Norris saving Modesto, California from ninjas. I suspect this was the beginning of the end of his film career, and ultimately, his life.