In 1978’s Death Drug, Philip Michael Thomas plays Jesse Thomas.
Jesse is a plumber with a dream. He wants to be a songwriter, a musician, and most of all, a star. His girlfriend and eventual wife, Carolyn (Vernee Watson-Johnson), stands by him as he sends his music off to record companies and waits for word. When he’s finally given a recording contract, no one is happier for him than Carolyn. Certainly, Jesse’s own father doesn’t seem to care much about his son’s success. “I have no son,” he says, even after Jesse wins a Grammy.
(To be fair, they’ll give just about anyone a Grammy.)
Unfortunately, with success comes temptation. While celebrating at a local club, Jesse is approached by a drug dealer (Frankie Crocker) who gives Jesse a cigarette that is laced with Whack. Whack, as those of us who have seen Disco Godfather can tell you, is PCP. Remember Disco Godfather‘s cry of “We’ve got to attack the whack?” Well, Jesse allows himself to become a victim of whack attack. It starts out simply enough, with a moving painting. Then, before you know it, Jesse’s hairbrush is turning into a hungry alligator and Jesse starts to become convinced that everyone is plotting against him. Even a trip to the grocery store goes wrong as Jesse spots spiders in the produce and zombies in the aisles! Jesse freaks out. He runs outside. He…. well, no spoilers for me. But let’s remember the words of Rudy Ray Moore in Disco Godfather. Put your weight on it! Yes, indeed. Put your weight on it, Jesse.
This is one of those anti-drug films that was probably best enjoyed by people who viewed it while high. It’s a rather short film, which means that Jesse goes from being a hard-working plumber-turned-musician to a ranting and raving maniac in record time. Philip Michael Thomas throws himself into the role, especially the ranting and raving part. I’ve been binging Miami Vice so seeing the usually collected and cool Thomas screaming in terror at things that aren’t there was an interesting experience. Because the film was so short, there’s some filler that’s awkwardly tacked on, presumably to bring the movie up to feature length. We get a news report about a man who went crazy from PCP-usage and had to be taken down by the cops. We get a report about Jesse Thomas’s musical career that features a much-older looking Philip Michael Thomas performing a song that’s more from the 80s than the 70s. (That was inserted into the film when it was re-released in 1985, at the height of Thomas’s Miami Vice success.) There’s a lengthy news report at the end that, hilariously, has a moment where the reporter apologizes for “technical difficulties” that were probably included just to get the movie past the 70-minute mark.
As I mentioned, this film was re-released in 1985. Philip Michael Thomas filmed a special introduction for the film, in which he played pool in his Hollywood mansion and told the viewer that, out of all the roles he had played (“cops, kings….”), none of them meant as much to him as his performance as Jesse Thomas. Philip Michael Thomas is the epitome of 80s cool in that introduction and in a short scene that appears after the end credits. Don’t worry, folks, the film is telling us. Jesse Thomas may have fallen victim to the whack but Philip is still over here putting some weight on it.
In the end, it’s all fairly silly but it does make a nice companion piece to Don Johnson’s Heartbeat. If you’re a success, you really owe it to yourself to have a vanity project. It’s what the people want.
Through the Shattered Lens 