"Jane White is Sick and Twisted" is an extremely cheap piece of schlock paying homage to television. I hate television so I generally despised this movie. I tried not to despise it, and I watched enough network television as a kid to get most of the references in the film, but nonetheless I disliked this movie immensely. My opinion of television hovers somewhere near my opinion of communism: it sounds like a great idea in theory, but fails miserably in practice. There is something so plebian about sitcoms, made for television movies, and reality shows that should rankle anyone with an education extending beyond the fourth grade. I know that sounds snobby, and hypocritical as well considering that I do enjoy a few television shows ("The Rockford Files" and "Soap," for example), but that's how it is. The most frightening thing about television has little to do with the vacuous personalities who appear on it; it's how the medium changes your perceptions of reality. Don't believe me? Quit watching the box for several months and then tune in again. You'll be amazed how quickly your mental acuity dissipates. Unfortunately, too many people keep watching day in and day out just like the titular character in this movie.
Jane White (Kim Little) represents an extreme example of the television junkie. She has spent her entire life in front of the tube, to the point that she can no longer distinguish between reality and unreality. Her mother (Alley Mills) suffers from a chronic form of agoraphobia and thus is detached from her daughter's life. Jane's father, or so she believes, is a sleazy television talk show host named Gerry King (David Lauder), a man who makes Jerry Springer look like Ted Koppel. The only outside influence on Jane appears to be a local sleaze ball named Burger (Chris Hardwick) who shows up at the house from time to time. White does, however, keep in e-mail contact with a convicted serial killer named Kenny Kingman (Mickey Jones) even though her intense television schedule never afforded her the opportunity to learn how to write in any known language. One day, Jane conceives of a brilliant idea: why not do something outrageous in order to earn a spot on the Gerry King show? She can finally meet her father! White quickly takes cues from the program, dressing up as a harridan and roaming the streets at night just as King's guests do. The result of this expedition is odd to say the least. She meets up with a couple of transvestites (Andrew Lauer and Eric Lutes from "Caroline in the City"), a pimp (Debra Wilson), and a potential customer with a heart of gold (Colin Mochrie in the film's only redeeming performance).
With a little help, Jane sets out to see Gerry King. She quickly hooks up with a young dim bulb by the name of Smith (Wil Wheaton), and the two embark on their own series of adventures. They go, for example, out into the desert to make themselves available for abduction to any passing aliens (that darn King show again). Frankly, by this time I started dozing off from sheer boredom, so the rest of the movie became one big blur. I recall that Kenny Kingman escaped from prison in order to visit his pen pal. I also recall Alley Mills hooking up with next-door neighbor Burger. We also get a few scenes from King's wacked out television show, particularly a segment where a black man claiming to be Jesus (Phil LaMarr) argues with two trailer trash chicks named Tiffany and Nancy (Danica McKellar and Maureen McCormick respectively). Too, Richard Kline (Larry from "Three's Company") pops up from time to time as a television news anchor named Chris Jobin. It's not as though I missed anything of significance at any point in the film, though. "Jane White is Sick and Twisted" is, truthfully, television incarnate. Just like watching television in real life, you won't remember anything five minutes after you've seen it.
I do, most regrettably, remember Kim Little as Jane White. She mugs constantly at the camera, decked out in braces, wacky hairdos, and a fashion sense you wouldn't wish on your worst enemy. And she has a tendency to embark on disjointed monologues the likes of which haven't been heard since Katherine Helmond played Jessica Tate on "Soap," except they aren't nearly as funny as the latter. Little's over the top performance nearly obscures the numerous minor television personalities appearing in the film. Aside from the ones previously mentioned, we also see Ted Shackelford, Michelle Phillips, and even Dustin Diamond (Screech from "Saved by the Bell") as a wig wearing motel desk clerk. So what does all of this collected talent do for the film? Nothing. Nada. Doughnut. "Jane White is Sick and Twisted" is one of the most asinine, banal, poorly conceived ideas for a film ever thought up by a human being. In fact, I'm not sure a human being made this film. I wonder about all of those television signals that have been soaring through space since the medium's inception. I suspect an alien race analyzed these signals and made this as a result. You certainly need an alien sense of humor to laugh at this clunker.
The DVD version of the film contains a boatload of extras. There's a commentary track I didn't bother listening to, three trailers I barely watched, filmographies I ignored, deleted scenes I yawned my way through, games I wouldn't be caught dead playing, and some behind the scenes and making of stuff that sheds little light on why anyone would make such an atrocious film. Even worse, the picture and audio quality are the equivalent of week old bread. Take a pass on this one, folks. Life's too short to waste it watching drivel like this.
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