Yes, I realize this title looks offensive. But I swear to you I don’t have anything against Matthew Modine, and I don’t think rape is funny (usually.) But I’m compelled to deal with this issue anyway, for reasons I can’t quite explain.
Four weeks ago I watched a movie from the eighties called The Hotel New Hampshire. I had no intention of writing about it because it seems completely irrelevent at this stage in time. So irrelevent, in fact, that I saw this on my Tivo after recording it off of the Encore Love Channel almost two years ago. The damn movie probably isn’t airing on that niche channel anymore, and I haven’t had premium channels for a long time, so the channel itself may not even exist anymore for all I know.
Why did I record it and watch it, then? I saw the name while aimlessly searching for movies to record, and I had a vivid memory of the theatrical trailer. The movie was sold as your basic eighties coming-of-age exploitation movie, and because I was a high school loser whose only shot at seeing naked boobs was in movies, I’m sure I wanted to see the hell out of it. I never did, however, because when I expressed my interest to a friend, he informed me that the movie made no sense and had almost no boob shots. Instead, I rented Screwballs and was extremely pleased.
