Slasher won't be the first or last examination of the desperation, mood swings, and practical sexual comparisons (how's the performance going one might wonder, keep in mind they're all male sellers after all) in the world of salesmen. The Maysles brothers first took it on back in the 60s, and while John Landis may not ever reach the heights of being an exceptional documentary filmmaker, he has a lot more fun than the Maysles ever would, specially with a topic like this. The world of used car salesmen is sleazy and based on sensationalism and tricks as opposed to being straightforward, so Landis tries to take that same approach with his style, as he uses the city of Memphis almost as another character, if only in subtext, in this special part of the car salesman's year. Michael Bennet is the principle figure here, as the 'slasher', who flies in to Memphis (whether it's every year or not I can't say, though he appears to trump his track record whenever he can) and sells cars at low-low prices. Which means, considering there's no warranty and the many potential problems with the used cars, you get not necessarily what you pay for but the ideal of what the seller gets you to pay for, if that makes sense.
As mentioned, there's some flashy editing here, with images flying by at times to great R&B songs- strongly in the vein of the Blues Brothers mold- and we get a sense soon enough of what the slasher and his cohorts have to deal with: Memphis is a city mostly bankrupt, with the exception of the mega-industry of Fed-Ex, and even when the slasher goes to lengths to take off thousands of dollars it's not enough for certain people. It's here that Landis, with his great amount of access, digs into the particulars of the used-car scheme. The gimmick for the slasher, which is meant to drag in as many as possible Memorial Day weekend, is that cars are as LOW as $88. Which means most of them, of course, are not that much (there's a running gag involving the first $88 car, with a bag of bad fish lying in the back of the car). But even amid the pandemonium that Bennet tries to conjure with his microphone and the music blaring in the background, some people just don't get convinced. It's here that one sees firsthand what BS is all about in the simple act of having to sell something, like when a customer won't settle for the price due to a father-in-law, and in elapsed time of over two hours it becomes a see-saw of half-truths and misnomers. It's never boring, at the least, even when one feels the salesmen sink to new lows.
But Landis's chief subject, Bennet, is a very good subject for Slasher because of how he's not totally an un-human business drone who sells crap to people completely. Well, a lot of time he does, to be sure, hence the cheap tuxedo he wears every day as he strains his voice. Yet it's strange that Landis should make the visual comparison at the start of the film, showing presidents of the past in blatant lies, because even through all of the slasher's go-for-broke tactics of getting people to get cars there is a sense that he's not being dishonest entirely with himself to his public audience. And at least Bennet is candid enough, unlike a politician, to let the viewer into his big follies and flaws: he boozes like a bum and smokes whenever he can, brings some vulgar speech in his rants in his hotel room and in a interesting scene a garage lot, and will have a good time at a strip club. And throughout his wheeling and dealing, one sees him start to break down over the course of three days, and even in his blatant lying seems down to earth in a strange way, like when he makes his last confession-type talk to the camera in the car. Meanwhile, Landis, like Bennet, tries to make this into as much of a showman's game as it is a job, and never keeps things still for too long, while still getting at the human elements on all sides be they the gruffish, lively buyers of the cars (all relatively low-income families) or just the workers at the dealership who just get bags popcorn to eat for lunch.
In the end, Landis doesn't paint a definitive picture of what the life of a used car salesman is, as he's attempting to get a significant piece of what it's like for a salesman on the hottest weekend of the year, nor is he getting a complete portrait of Memphis (though he tries, including Elvis bits scattered around). But it's a lot of fun, and enlightening in some spots, and it marks as a minor return to form for Landis, albeit in documentary form.
As mentioned, there's some flashy editing here, with images flying by at times to great R&B songs- strongly in the vein of the Blues Brothers mold- and we get a sense soon enough of what the slasher and his cohorts have to deal with: Memphis is a city mostly bankrupt, with the exception of the mega-industry of Fed-Ex, and even when the slasher goes to lengths to take off thousands of dollars it's not enough for certain people. It's here that Landis, with his great amount of access, digs into the particulars of the used-car scheme. The gimmick for the slasher, which is meant to drag in as many as possible Memorial Day weekend, is that cars are as LOW as $88. Which means most of them, of course, are not that much (there's a running gag involving the first $88 car, with a bag of bad fish lying in the back of the car). But even amid the pandemonium that Bennet tries to conjure with his microphone and the music blaring in the background, some people just don't get convinced. It's here that one sees firsthand what BS is all about in the simple act of having to sell something, like when a customer won't settle for the price due to a father-in-law, and in elapsed time of over two hours it becomes a see-saw of half-truths and misnomers. It's never boring, at the least, even when one feels the salesmen sink to new lows.
But Landis's chief subject, Bennet, is a very good subject for Slasher because of how he's not totally an un-human business drone who sells crap to people completely. Well, a lot of time he does, to be sure, hence the cheap tuxedo he wears every day as he strains his voice. Yet it's strange that Landis should make the visual comparison at the start of the film, showing presidents of the past in blatant lies, because even through all of the slasher's go-for-broke tactics of getting people to get cars there is a sense that he's not being dishonest entirely with himself to his public audience. And at least Bennet is candid enough, unlike a politician, to let the viewer into his big follies and flaws: he boozes like a bum and smokes whenever he can, brings some vulgar speech in his rants in his hotel room and in a interesting scene a garage lot, and will have a good time at a strip club. And throughout his wheeling and dealing, one sees him start to break down over the course of three days, and even in his blatant lying seems down to earth in a strange way, like when he makes his last confession-type talk to the camera in the car. Meanwhile, Landis, like Bennet, tries to make this into as much of a showman's game as it is a job, and never keeps things still for too long, while still getting at the human elements on all sides be they the gruffish, lively buyers of the cars (all relatively low-income families) or just the workers at the dealership who just get bags popcorn to eat for lunch.
In the end, Landis doesn't paint a definitive picture of what the life of a used car salesman is, as he's attempting to get a significant piece of what it's like for a salesman on the hottest weekend of the year, nor is he getting a complete portrait of Memphis (though he tries, including Elvis bits scattered around). But it's a lot of fun, and enlightening in some spots, and it marks as a minor return to form for Landis, albeit in documentary form.