Car Wash

Professor Irwin Corey is briefly mistaken for the Mad Pop Bottle Bomber. We meet the employees of the car wash in the locker room, as they’re putting on their work clothes. A guy named Kenny, who looks like he stepped out of the fashion ads, stops in and gets a date with the office girl. Lindy, probably the first drag queen employed full-time by a car wash, corrects his makeup.

One involves Bill Duke as a young Black Muslim with fierce resentments. While Floyd and Lloyd, as the steam men, practice their stage act on astonished customers, we watch the parade go by. The movie looks like joyful chaos on the surface, but there are several stories running through it. Another — delicately handled — involves a young black hooker who changes clothes in the rest room and then hangs around the corner all day lonely and lost.

B. tense and worried, Lonnie filled with ideas he can’t get an audience for. Another is the relationship between Mr. We meet the rest in a dizzying, nonstop kaleidoscope of cars, soul music, characters, crises, crazy kids on skateboards, hookers, television preachers, and lots of suds and hot wax — not to mention the Mad Pop Bottle Bomber, whose bottle turns out to be a cruel disappointment. All of this is held together by the music, which is nearly wall-to-wall, and by the picture’s tremendous sense of life.

B. and he walks around with a dead cigar stuck in his face, pleading "Wash the cars! Wash the cars!" But that’s the last thing they get around to in "Car Wash," a sunny, lively comedy. Floyd and Lloyd enter doing their James Brown imitation. It’s one thing to have an idea like this — a zany, sometimes serious day in the life of a car wash — and another thing to make it work. B. and Lonnie — Mr.

Wives and girlfriends of the workers stop by for brief sessions of fighting and making up. Roger Ebert A man in a head-to-toe cast goes through the wash, considerably shaken. The boss is named Mr.

Car Wash


p> In 1975, he won the Pulitzer Prize for distinguished criticism. T.C. is convinced he’ll be the lucky caller to win the free concert tickets in a radio station giveaway. But the screenplay and the direction juggle the characters so adroitly, this is almost a wash-and-wax "MASH." Lonnie, the straw boss, provides an element of sanity, but he’s outnumbered. He has his backup singers with him: the Pointer Sisters, who do a number right in front of the gas pumps.

Roger Ebert was the film critic of the Chicago Sun-Times from 1967 until his death in 2013. The movie’s put together with a manic energy, we never even quite get introduced to half the people in the cast, but by the movie’s end we know them, and what they’re up to, and we like them. The car wash seems almost a natural gathering place. The kid on the skateboard whizzes past on a regular schedule. Sooner or later during the day, everyone seems to come through the car wash.

A limousine a yard long wheels up and discharges Richard Pryor, as Daddy Rich, the famous television evangelist. George Carlin plays a bewildered taxi driver. The movie covers a day in the life of the DeLuxe Car Wash, down from the Strip in Los Angeles, and by actual count only three totally sane people stop by all day.

So does a little boy who first throws up on his mother’s Mercedes and, when it’s been washed, throws up on her.