Alright, fellow tapeheads, let's rewind to a time when the airwaves were ruled by a voice that made censors sweat and parents clutch their pearls. Pop the tape in, adjust the tracking if you need to (you probably do), because tonight we're diving into 1997's Howard Stern biopic, Private Parts. Now, I distinctly remember seeing the bold, provocative poster for this one lining the walls of Blockbuster, thinking, "They actually made a movie about him?" It felt like an event, maybe even a bit dangerous, sneaking this one home.
From Shock Jock to Surprise Movie Star
The sheer audacity of Private Parts is something to behold, even now. Here was arguably the most controversial broadcaster in America, famous for pushing every boundary imaginable, starring as himself in a major studio picture. It sounds like a recipe for disaster, or at least a cringe-worthy vanity project. Yet, somehow, under the surprisingly deft direction of Betty Thomas (who, incredibly, had just come off helming The Brady Bunch Movie – talk about range!), Private Parts works. It works really well.
The film, based on Stern's own best-selling autobiographical book, traces his journey from a socially awkward kid obsessed with radio to the self-proclaimed "King of All Media." Howard Stern, playing Howard Stern, is remarkably... good. He’s not just reciting his own history; he brings a vulnerability and, dare I say, likability to the role that might surprise those only familiar with his radio persona. It helps that the script, penned by Len Blum and Michael Kalesniko, doesn't shy away from his neuroses or his relentless ambition, grounding the outrageousness in something recognizably human. A fascinating bit of trivia: Stern initially resisted starring, suggesting others like John Stamos or even Bill Murray, but the filmmakers rightly insisted only he could capture that unique energy.
More Than Just Fart Jokes (But Plenty of Those Too)
Of course, the movie delivers the goods for Stern fans. We get recreations of infamous radio moments, the battles with clueless station executives (personified brilliantly by a pre-Sideways Paul Giamatti as the uptight NBC suit Kenny "Pig Vomit" Rushton – a character name Stern famously coined on air), and the undeniable chemistry of the radio show crew, with Robin Quivers, Fred Norris, and Jackie "The Joke Man" Martling gamely playing themselves. Seeing these radio moments visualized, like the disastrous blind date or the infamous lesbian dial-a-date segment, felt incredibly edgy back on a fuzzy CRT screen in '97.
But where Private Parts truly elevates itself is in its surprisingly sweet and central love story. Mary McCormack, in a star-making turn, plays Alison, Howard's long-suffering but supportive wife. Their relationship forms the emotional core of the film, providing a crucial counterpoint to the on-air mayhem. McCormack is phenomenal, holding her own against the force of nature that is Stern and giving the film a genuine heart. Their scenes together, particularly those showing the strain his career puts on their marriage, are handled with unexpected sensitivity. It’s this balance that caught many critics off guard; Private Parts landed with a surprisingly positive critical reception (around 77% on Rotten Tomatoes back in the day, if memory serves), far exceeding the low expectations many had for a "shock jock movie."
Capturing the Chaos
Director Betty Thomas deserves immense credit for wrangling this chaotic energy into a coherent and entertaining film. She captures the anarchic spirit of Stern's show while still telling a classic underdog story. The pacing is brisk, the humor lands (even when it’s gleefully juvenile), and the period details feel right for evoking the different eras of Stern's rise through the 70s, 80s, and 90s. Remember the sheer spectacle of Fartman descending at the MTV Awards? The film recreates it with loving, absurd detail. It wasn't a cheap movie either; made for around $28 million, it pulled in over $41 million domestically – a solid return showing Stern's massive audience would follow him anywhere, even the multiplex.
Watching it now, Private Parts feels like a perfect time capsule of mid-90s boundary-pushing mainstream entertainment. It's frank, funny, often profane, but beneath the surface, it’s a surprisingly conventional and well-crafted biopic about ambition, love, and staying true to your (often outrageous) voice. It understood its subject, warts and all, and presented him in a way that was both authentic to his fans and accessible (well, mostly) to a wider audience.
VHS Heaven Rating: 8/10
Private Parts earns a solid 8. It succeeds not just as a vehicle for its controversial star, but as a genuinely funny, surprisingly touching, and well-made film in its own right. Howard Stern's gamble paid off, Mary McCormack shone, and Betty Thomas delivered a minor miracle, turning potentially crass material into a compelling story. It captured the raw, unapologetic energy of its subject in a way few biopics manage.
Final Thought: For all its shock value and FCC-baiting history, Private Parts remains a surprisingly warm and funny look back at a media phenomenon, proving that sometimes, the most outrageous personalities have the most relatable stories hiding underneath the noise. It’s a tape definitely worth dusting off.