Alright fellow tape-heads, gather 'round the glow of the metaphorical CRT. Let's rewind to a time when Saturday Night Live sketches becoming movies felt like a weekly occurrence, sometimes hitting gold, sometimes... well, sometimes giving us artifacts so peculiar they demand a second look decades later. Dig through that dusty box in your memory palace (or maybe the actual one in the garage) and pull out 1994’s perplexing curiosity: It's Pat.
Remember Pat Riley? The androgynous, whining, utterly perplexing character created and embodied by Julia Sweeney on SNL? The joke was simple: you just couldn't tell Pat's gender, and every interaction revolved around other characters' increasingly desperate, awkward attempts to figure it out without asking directly. It worked in five-minute bursts, fueled by Sweeney's committedly bizarre performance. Stretching that single, fragile joke across 77 minutes, however? That was the cinematic gamble of It's Pat, a film that landed with a thud so quiet in '94 you might have missed it entirely.
### One Joke To Rule Them All?
Directed by Adam Bernstein (who, perhaps surprisingly given this film's reception, went on to direct acclaimed episodes of shows like Breaking Bad and Fargo), It's Pat follows our titular enigma through a series of loosely connected vignettes. Pat gets a job, Pat falls in love (with the equally indeterminate Chris, played by Dave Foley of Kids in the Hall fame), Pat inadvertently becomes the obsession of a creepy neighbor (a game Charles Rocket, leaning into the discomfort), and... well, Pat remains Pat. The entire narrative engine runs on the fumes of that one central question, deploying every conceivable (and some inconceivable) scenario to obscure Pat's gender while simultaneously highlighting everyone else's discomfort and confusion.
It’s a concept that wears thin faster than the tracking on a well-loved rental copy. What played as absurdly funny in short bursts on late-night TV becomes repetitive and almost strained over a feature length. The situations escalate – Pat joining a band, encountering obsessed fans – but the core gag remains resolutely static. Yet, there's a bizarre commitment here that's almost admirable in its own way. Julia Sweeney, who also co-wrote the script (alongside Jim Emerson and fellow SNL writer Stephen Hibbert), fully inhabits Pat. It’s not a lazy caricature; she nails the voice, the posture, the unsettling blend of obliviousness and neediness. You can't fault her dedication to her own creation.
### A Time Capsule of 90s Strangeness
Watching It's Pat today feels like unearthing a specific kind of 90s time capsule. There's a texture to it, a certain mid-budget studio comedy feel that’s instantly recognizable. And let's not forget the music. In perhaps the film's most memorable sequence (or infamous, depending on your perspective), Pat joins a rock band. Who happens to be playing at the club? None other than Weezer, performing "Buddy Holly" just as they were breaking big. It’s a jarringly cool cameo in a movie that otherwise feels decidedly… uncool. This appearance was reportedly part of an attempt by the studio to inject some youth appeal after poor test screenings – a classic 90s studio move.
The supporting cast tries their best. Dave Foley brings his signature dry weirdness to Chris, creating a strangely sweet chemistry with Pat where their mutual ambiguity somehow makes sense. Charles Rocket (who sadly passed away in 2005) dives headfirst into the role of Kyle Jacobsen, the neighbor whose obsession with Pat's gender drives him to increasingly unsettling lengths. It’s a performance that pushes the boundaries of creepy comedy, perhaps a bit too far for some.
Let's talk about reception, because wow. This film wasn't just ignored; it was a certified box office bomb. Reports suggest it made back only around $60,000 on an estimated $8 million budget. Critics were merciless. Gene Siskel famously walked out, and it frequently appears on "worst movie ever" lists. Was it that bad? Maybe not "worst ever," but it fundamentally misunderstood the limits of its source material. It’s a fascinating example of how a perfectly good sketch concept can collapse under the weight of feature film expectations.
### That Certain Something...?
So why even revisit It's Pat? For one, it's a genuine artifact. It represents a specific moment in SNL's history and 90s comedy filmmaking – the willingness to take a punt on something truly weird. There's an oddball charm buried beneath the repetitive jokes, a kind of innocent commitment to its own strange world. It’s not trying to be edgy or subversive in the way comedy often strives for today; it’s just… Pat.
Did I rent this back in the day? I honestly can't recall seeing it on the shelf, which speaks volumes about its blink-and-you-missed-it theatrical run and likely swift journey to the discount VHS bins. Finding it later felt like discovering a secret, slightly embarrassing footnote in 90s pop culture. It’s the kind of movie you might have watched late at night, slightly bewildered, wondering how exactly it got made.
There are no explosive practical effects here, no death-defying stunts. The "action" is purely comedic, revolving around awkward situations and near-revelations. Its legacy isn't in influencing other films, but perhaps in serving as a cautionary tale about stretching a thin premise.
VHS Heaven Rating: 3/10
Justification: The rating reflects the film's fundamental flaw – its inability to sustain its single joke – and its dismal reception. However, it avoids a rock-bottom score due to Julia Sweeney's committed performance, the time-capsule quality, the sheer audacity of the concept, and that iconic Weezer cameo. It's technically competent but narratively bankrupt.
Final Thought: It's Pat is less a forgotten gem and more a cinematic curiosity, a head-scratching relic from the SNL movie factory that proves some jokes are best kept brief. Worth seeing? Maybe once, just to say you have – preferably with friends and the fast-forward button handy.