Behind the Mask (2006)

[We are continuing to publish the film reviews of Graveyard Frank Trautman as we find them. The following, written on the back of a diner menu in Wichita, was found and sent in by one our intrepid readers who wishes to remain anonymous. Given the clues therein, we expect it was written sometime in July. Thanks for you patience, the editors.]

Frank is slumped behind the wheel gasping at the air conditioner. Its 117 with the heat index. His job? Its terrible and rotten today and this is all he has. He has been riding fences in Kansas for months now, by which he means endless miles of prairie archaeological inventory and survey; he has been directing. It was a chance at a good job for once. Actually it’s a great job, aside from being on the road a lot. It’s too bad Sugarloaf Jones, his former gal could not respect that. While the cat’s away… as the old cliché goes.

Anyway Frank now detours slightly for McPherson, Kansas to check out two roadside attractions he doesn’t want to miss. The first is the old MGM Lion, or what’s left of him anyhow. The skin of Leo is on the third floor of the McPherson Museum in a glass case in the African room. This lion is the first MGM lion from the silent-movie-era. His roaring protégée from talkies is buried in New Jersey. Leo the rug was bought around 1922 by a McPherson banker and found his way into the museum.

The second McPherson icon he’s determined to find galls him somehow, though he had hoped sight of the giant chimney sweep that he’s heard tale of will give him at least a laugh. It doesn’t.

The Happy Sweep, as he is known, is just off the side of I-135 between Wichita and McPherson Kansas. If you’ve ever eaten at one of the few Happy Chef diners dotting the Midwest, you’d recognize him, almost. Happy Chef is based in Mankato, Minnesota and known for serving breakfast all day. The first Happy Chef Restaurant opened in 1963 and still operates today. Originally all Happy Chefs had a big statue of a smiling man in a chef hat holding a spoon. These roadside icons were about 40-ft tall and would play recorded audio messages when a button was pushed. The Happy Chef told 22 jokes or dispensed 1950's style Midwestern wisdom when you pressed a button. Unfortunately, the chain has retired the Happy Chef statues. Today, only the original Mankato location still has its Happy Chef statue.

It’s sad that as a culture we’ve out-grown the wise and good natured Happy Chef. Frank has a job to do. Sugar has random guys to fuck. The country has pre-emptive wars to fight and pop stars to idolize. There’s no room for ole H. C.’s brand of folksy wisdom. [Okay, okay, Frank has no idea what this wisdom was, and promises to look into it.]

The Happy Sweep used to be one of these large bakers poised in front of a Happy Chef in McPherson or Manhattan, Kansas. When the place closed a couple of years ago he was bought by an entrepreneur and renovated. His wooden spoon was refashioned into a broom and his chef’s hat replaced by a top hat. His body repainted into a tux. They also added a whole lot of Christmas lights so you can see the old boy at night. The Happy Sweep was born.

To Frank, standing in the wet grass on the side of the highway while Angry Jamie snaps a few photos, the Happy Sweep’s big fiberglass smile bugs him. Frank guesses he’s smiling because he’s found a new job. Fired from his restaurant, he is now reborn. A new career in the lucrative fireplace maintenance industry. Frank, also alone too in that field, has a new job too…

…but at least that fat cold dead bastard smiles. Frank doesn’t.

He is cut and bruised by miles of barbed wire fences not to mention the poison ivy, ticks, mosquitoes and horseflies, coyotes and angry badgers. And if you’re out there Barry, you won’t smile much longer either, you’ve got yourself an unfaithful girl there.

It seems his darling Sugarloaf was fucking around on him while he toiled out in the Midwest dodging flash floods and tornados in order to make a living. That hurt. He can’t smile, good job or no. She was throwing up obstacles like a girl half her age because at 39 she was still afraid at being in a good relationship. She fucks around to prove she doesn’t need anyone in her life, yet can’t resist ensnaring the weak Frank who just wants to be loved. Seven months on her wasted.

She proclaims tears and despair and love to Frank when she breaks it off. Frank had spent a weekend traveling back to Atlanta, but it’s not true. Frank doesn’t believe in love that is told in terms of convenience. To her, out of sight, out of mind. The first time she needs him to shoo some punk kids from her stoop, a new man finds his way to her bed. If she loved him she would love him. Better to have loved and lost?

Green eyes, the lousy Coldplay (A Rush of Blood to the Head 2002) song she played for him drones on the radio and he tells Jamie to switch it off.

And oh! The pimps from Behind the Mask, The Rise of Leslie Vernon (Glosserman 2006) have been bugging Frank’s Myspace page. It is a DVD now. The first 10 min are Okay. It’s kinda funny to see a “supernatural killer" as the kind of douche bag that Sugarloaf’s with now. After that its just Scream (Craven 1996) meets Man Bites Dog (Belvaux et al 1992) with out apology. It sucks.

But that giant chimney sweep, out alone in his field. At least that fat cold dead bastard smiles!