Citizen Kane. The Godfather. Apocalypse Now. Ernest Goes to Camp. All undisputed classics, films that have proven their worth over the years and remain perennial favorites despite the consistent release of hundreds of new movies each year. There are the obvious classics, like those mentioned above. There are also cult classics, underground movies such as The Rocky Horror Picture Show or Plan 9 From Outer Space. And then there are those movies that defy every genre, every expectation and even logic itself. Movies so mind-blowingly radical that they have to be seen to believed. Movies like Mr. T’s Be Somebody… or Be Somebody’s Fool.

Keep in mind that Mr. T’s Be Somebody… or Be Somebody’s Fool is the type of movie that can not be adequately described in words. Picture Mr. T rapping bluntly to an ‘80s synth-beat surrounded by dozens of singing moppets on a set that cost roughly $2, and you’ll have a vague idea of the first few minutes. The film, released straight to video in 1984, follows Mr. T’s attempts to teach children that, even though their only friend may be an invisible bunny named Cyril, they can still be cool in their own way. Note here that "cool" roughly means "someone who is going to get beaten up if they ever actually try this stuff around other people".

A prime example of this is the "Styling" sequence, which Mr. T begins with the sage advice: "If you don’t wear clothes, you’re gonna get arrested". This is promptly followed by a horde of "alternatively clothed" teens that should have been arrested on principle anyway. Now look, I know that a requirement of living in the ‘80s was to dress oneself in order to induce gag reflexes, but even the costumes in Breakin’ 2: Electric Boogaloo can’t compare to these homemade horrors. As bad as these costumes are, however, they don’t even hold a candle to the T’s play-by-play commentary. He describes Marta, wearing random shreds of fabric and roughly a gallon of spray paint, saying, "With her mustard socks and her ketchup sash, she is a real hot dog". Of course she isn’t wearing either mustard socks or a ketchup sash, but nobody needs to tell him that. His description of the next guy, Jeff, is even better: "with pants pegged tight and hair and fitness, he is the eighties nod to fitness splendor". I don’t know if this video was translated into Ancient Greek and then translated back into English by someone who only speaks French, but that sentence just doesn’t seem to mean anything. Maybe it was Jeff’s groundbreaking (by which I mean "excruciatingly painful") dance style distracting me. After three more subjects that make me embarrassed to call myself human, Mr. T sums up the performance succinctly: "Hey, that was great. I liked that."

Don’t get me wrong; this is one of the greatest things you will ever see in your life. Even better is the next sequence called "Peer Pressure," which takes place on a pier (har, har). Five kids are walking along when one finds a can of beer and a pack of cigarettes lying in plain sight on top of a trash can (no, really. But wait, it gets better). Four of them become excited and start smoking and drinking, except one (who is, for some reason, the only minority, and looks about ten years younger than the other four) who starts to feel uncomfortable. Also on this pier, by the way, are Mr. T, apparently visible only to the little one, and New Edition (New Edition!) singing and dancing to a song called "Peer Pressure". It’s a very dense and complicated song, so let me transcribe the lyrics for you here: "Peer pressure, peer pressure / you don’t have to follow their lead / peer pressure, peer pressure / listen to your heart and believe" (repeat 85 times).

Meanwhile, the four kids have become drunk from a sip of beer each and high from a single cigarette. I wish my tolerance was that low; I’d never have to spend a dime again. Worse, these now-belligerent teens have decided to pressure their still-sober friend into joining the debauchery. Instead of simply asking, they surround him and begin jamming cigarettes down his throat and forcing him to drink the beer, despite the poor kid’s repeated refusals. This is how we know these are either midgets or robots in kid suits–there isn’t a teenager alive that, finding their friends don’t want any beer, wouldn’t secretly think "good" and drink the rest himself. Then again, these kids are already trashed from a drop of alcohol, so drinking the rest would probably make them all explode anyway. Regardless, the kid finally runs away under Mr. T’s silent approval, and the others promptly get hangovers. New Edition is probably still on that pier today, singing those seven words over and over again.

After watching this, along with the "workout" video (which is basically just an excuse to make fun of the fat kid), I began to wonder: what kind of a nation are we that we would need something like this video? Sure, I feel much better about my life now that I’ve seen how badly Hollywood can warp impressionable young child actors, but somebody out there must have taken this seriously. Somebody must have shown up at school one day wearing a shirt of multicolored rags with a name tag sown in, singing songs about how great their mother is. And on that day, that poor child must have learned, painfully, that only Mr. T himself could get away with that and still look cool. Hell, Mr. T could tell dead baby jokes at Jerry Falwell’s birthday party and get away unscathed. He could make a movie like this and still look cool. He did make a movie like this and is still the man.

If this movie has taught mankind anything, then, it’s that Mr. T is the pinnacle of human evolution. I therefore pity the fool that doesn’t watch this movie. Not only is it the funniest, most absoludicrous thing you will ever see, but it’s another chance to experience the trials and tribulations of the man that you wish you were, the man that you can never equal. Go see this movie today. To quote the T, "don’t look at him! I’m talking to you!" Oh, and remember: be somebody. Or Mr. T will punch you in the face.