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The Sure Thing (dir. Rob Reiner, 1985) - A movie about the only race that truly matters to most warm-blooded American males. And I don't mean the Indy 500. Nope, I'm talking about the good old fashioned Pursuit for Pussy. And who better to go chasin' the proverbial tale than a 17 year old John Cusack?

To all of the 30-something male hipsters who jumped on the Cusack bandwagon when 'High Fidelity' came out with cries of "Oh my god, that's me! That's me!" try watching this gem. This is quintessential misunderstood, frustrated, witty, handsome-but-not-hunky and sensitive guy, John Cusack. You can have your Lloyd Dobblers and your Rob Gordons. For my money, I'll take Walter Gibson. Everything that is John Cusack was first embodied in this film..

In 'The Sure Thing' Walter Gibson is a freshman in an Ivy league college who on a Christmas break hitches rides out to Southern California. He must get to UCLA before the holiday begins in order to score with a sure thing that his best buddy, played by an equally young Anthony Edwards (with hair!) has set up for him. Unexpectedly he ends up riding with a young studious, nerdy woman (Daphne Zuniga) whom is the exact opposite. Naturally, hilarity and romance ensues.

Rob Reiner in his second film gives us an atypical teen romantic comedy. One that realistically and funnily portrays what it's like to be eighteen without being ridiculously unreal or sappy ( a la John Hughes) or having cheap, crude Porky's-type humor in it.

Death Race 2000 (dir. Paul Bartel, 1975) - David Carradine plays an anti-hero driving around in a suped-up auto, mowing down innocent pedestrians, whilst spouting off one-liners to make both Governor-to-be Schwarzennegger and Freddy Krueger proud. Oh and he's dressed up in a white leather jumpsuit a la Evil Kneivel. And let's not forget the movie also showcases a very early post-porn but pre-Rocky, Sylvestor Stallone. Who wouldn't want to watch this flick?

It's the year 2000 and the President of the United States, whom had single-handedly rebuilt the country after a devastating war, has become the emperor. Abusing his power in worse fashion than a G.W. Bush, the emperor decides that there should be an annual death race where high performance killing machines are driven by...high performance killing machines. The goal?  To race across the U.S. wiping out as many pedestrians as possible. As one might guess with a movie of this caliber, there's a rather complicated points-based system for the Race. I'll not spoil it for you. Rent it.

Crash (dir. David Cronenberg, 1996) - Even the most die-hard of Cronenberg fans had trouble taking this film too seriously when it began with four gratuitous sex scenes in a row. But come on, getting to see Holly Hunter pulling up her skirt and mounting James Spader in a car garage isn't worth the seven bucks alone? 

Don't let film experts, snobs or aesthetes kid you. This film is really nothing more than an adaptation of a J.G. Ballard novel that amounts to nothing more (or nothing less, for that matter) than 'Showgirls' meeting 'Caligula'. Sort of.

Spader and wife (Deborah Kara Unger) live a happy life of swapping lovers whom just so happen to relate to their penchant for having sex while either dangerously racing around in nice cars or having post-coital crash sex after committing and viewing car accidents.

If you haven't quit watching it by the time Spader gets off with his wife while she talks about him being buggered by another man (an even creepier than usual Elias Koteas), you'll be treated to an enviable scene where Spader gets off on a lover's gaping leg wound.

There's a lot of getting off in the film.

Car races, car crashes, car sex. Sounds like an American Dream if I've ever heard one.