Brad's Week in Dork! (1/27/13-2/2/13)

This was a fun if somewhat confusing Week in Dork.  After a couple years of nervous anticipation, Jason Statham finally hit the big screen as Richard Stark's Parker.  If you've been reading this blog for even the last few weeks, let alone the last two years, then you know I am a Parker super freak and that from the very first glimpse of the Taylor Hackford adaptation I was rather jittery.  I wish that I could report that the new Parker film (and the only one granted the usage of the actual "Parker" name) is a rip-roaringly good time out at the movies...but, sadly, it's a tragic mess of a movie barely worth the energy it takes to properly deride it.  This will not be the final Parker film.  Although, I'd be shocked if they ever let Jason Statham near the property again - and that would definitely be the right decision.  I think at this point, the producers should just grab Darwyn Cooke's graphic novelization of The Score, cast Michael Shannon as Parker and bask in the glory of "Mad Men With More Murder" (a term coined by my clever friend Kevin).  There's a hit film there - I just know it.  At the very least, this latest cine-tragedy has got me aching to finish off Stark's series of books.

The second momentous release of the week was Robert Kirkman's Invincible #100.  Last year I blitzed through 97 issues in just over a week and I came to the realization that Mark Grayson is the greatest Super Hero character in comicdom.  Issues 98-100, titled "The Death of Everyone," certainly put the young Grayson through the wringer as he went mano y mano with the hulk smashing mad genius of the environmental overlord Dinosaurus........but, I also have to admit that I was not overjoyed by the seminal event.  Solid.  But not the painful, consequence porn that Invincible usually proves time and time again.  But, similar to Parker, maybe the anticipation for the event was too great for genuine adoration.

The real joys of this week came during the back half.  After some solid Oscar Nomination viewing, on Friday, Matt & I returned to the beautiful AFI Silver for Count Gore De Vol's 40 Anniversary of Creature Feature.  I moved to the DC area a little too late to be considered a proper follower of the Count, but he's always been a staple of the horror convention circuit and I dig his brand of late-night, pre-dawn TV goofery.  And for February I've decided to crank out another Blaxploitation Movie Marathon - this is a theme I did a few years ago and I remember having as much fun with Shaft & the Gang as I generally do for my annual October Horror-A-Thons.  I've been meandering about with films of late, and I'm craving a theme.  Richard Roundtree certainly delivers on the promise of the genre.

Parker:  "He was an angel from heaven sent to test us." Cut to black. "In Memory of Donald Westlake" You hear that sound? That spinning, screaming wail? That's Donald Westlake (aka The Dark Half, Richard Stark) infuriatingly spinning in his grave. AN ANGEL FROM HEAVEN!!! GAAAAAWWWWW!!!! That's the very last line of the movie. It's done for a laugh, but it also gets to the very essence of what is so bloody horrible about this most heinous adaptation. Parker is not a good guy. He's a criminal.  A murderer.  He's a professional thief with a set of rules that keeps him well employed and out of prison. He won't hurt you unless he has to...but he will hurt you. I'm not sure who director Taylor Hackford & screenwriter John McLaughlin had in mind when crafting this pap, but it most certainly was not Westlake's creation - my guess is that they were trying for Lee Marvin's Point Blank, but even then they failed miserably. Jason Statham might not be the right choice, but he's also not a terrible one. The opening heist has a little bit of that Stark flavor, and I couldn't help but enjoy it's Prime Cut midwest freakshow. Statham also has a fairly kick ass hotel brawl with knives pushed through hands and toilet bowls cracked over skulls. But the needless and seemingly endless flashbacks, the shoddy CGI bloodwork, and Jennifer Lopez's "What Am I Doing Here!?!?" performance send this flick directly into the black bowels of Wal-Mart's 5 dollar bin. Not the most boring Parker adaptation (that would be Jim Brown's The Split), but since this is the first one to actually have the privilege of the Parker name, it is easily the most offensive.

Rome - Season One:  Here's another HBO series they weren't wrong about.  Finally succumbing to the pressures of friends & neighbors, I devoured the first season of Rome in just two days.  The main arc details the the slow fall of Julius Caesar (the exceptionally cast Cirian Hinds) at the hands of the treacherous Roman senate.  But as much fun as the diabolical politics can be, the real hook of this series lies with Lucius Vorenus & Titus Pullo, two bickering Centurions fated to sway the history of the iconic city.  As Pullo, Ray Stevenson is a Tyrannosaurus of rage and brutality.  He goes from faceless soldier to gladiatorial celebrity and his friendship with Kevin McKidd's Lucius represents one of the best fictional bromances.  Too bad (for them, not us) their historymaking is tied to a flood of blood.  I'm not sure where this show can go once its hit The Ides of March, but I can't wait to find out.  It certainly isn't going to be sunshine and flowers.

X-O Manowar #9:  I am so glad Ninjak is outta this book.  And I don't want him to get his own title.  That cat is just too silly.  The Vine invasion force is knocking on Earth's atmosphere,  but Aric's XO armor has found a way to patch into their hoodoo communication seminars.  Taunt him all you want, but the man has the heart of Conan The Barbarian and the technology of Iron Man - you do not want to mess with him.  Next issue, marks the beginning of the Planet Death storyline and I feel like mankind is pretty much screwed since Aric seems not to give one cuss for this modern society.  Someone better hurry up and appeal to his savage ways before he lets it all go tits up.

Uncanny Avengers #3:  I really loved the first issue.  And I thought the second issue was decent.  But this...?  I like the general concept of this Red Skull clone mucking about with Charles Xavier's brain, but Rick Remender's narrative rambling is getting in the way of the kooky crazy plot.  Lots of eye rolling from this reader.  And despite the delay, John Cassaday's art looks rushed and simple in places - the man is one of my favorite artists but I can see why he's leaving this book.  Marvel Now's rushed production schedule is not doing anyone favors.

Stumptown #5:  Hey!  I thought this book ended with last issue, but it just keeps on going!  Well, apparently this is the conclusion but my thoughts on the series are still the same.  A bit of a bore.  Drugs.  Neo Nazis.  Rock & Roll fanboys.  Another yawn.  Greg Rucka never grabbed me with this lukewarm mystery and P.I. Dex is like any dozen other wannabe hardboiled detectives, only with lady parts.  If you're a fan of this book let me know, cuz I want to understand the appeal.

Deadpool #4:  I need to drop this book.  Four issues into this Zombie President one trick pony and I find the humor to be utterly tiresome.  We get it!  Taft's Fat!  Kennedy Loves Ladies!  No One Cares About Zachary Taylor!  Hilarious?  No.  It's sophomoric at best, and Deadpool himself remains a lamebrain attempt at meta storytelling - you want to know how to break the Fourth Wall in style then watch Boston Legal.   My infatuation with Marvel Now is fading, and I'd be surprised (and a little disgusted) if I continued on with this series.

Winter Soldier #14:  Ed Brubaker's Captain America/Winter Soldier run comes to an end, and it's less than a whimper - it's a full on fart of disappointment.   Bucky finally gets face to face with his Commie Mirror Self and frees Natasha from his evil mental clutches.  'Course she doesn't escape unharmed and her relationship with Bucky is left in ruin.  Black Widow Hunt has been the most yawning of middle-of-the-road plot lines and it's rather depressing to think that Brubaker's final statement on his (re)creation ends with such a thud.

Avengers #3:  Jonathan Hickman seems to be building something big with this Avengers book, but I'm not sure I really want to hang on for the ride.  Jerome Opena's art is stunning, but he's already off the book so enjoy the pretty pictures while they last.  Frankly, I just can't get a hold on these characters.  Iron Man, Cap, Thor, Spider-Woman, Cannonball, Manifold...you can traipse out the entire Marvel Universe but it don't mean a damn if you don't give them enough time to interact with each other let alone the reader.  It's all vague universal catastrophe jargon slapped atop smackdown artwork.  And then suddenly it's over.  Cap basically chastises the Martian troublemakers and everyone goes home happy.  Whatever.

FF #3:  Look!  A comic book that I actually enjoyed this week!  Wee!  A one-eyed, white haired John Storm pops out of the time tunnel with tales of a mad future in which Kang The Conqueror, Doctor Doom, and Annihilus have transformed into one giant puddle of super villainy.  This dark future is just the excuse that revenge seeker Scott Lang has been waiting for, and he charges the FF with a mission to bring down Doom.  FF is easily one of my favorite books to come out of Marvel Now, and its a joy to read...something rare in these straining days of dark edgy storytelling.

Superfuzz:  Sometimes you can take great pleasure in a bad movie (see Enter The Ninja), and sometimes no joy can be had. Super Fuzz most definitely falls into the unjoyous category. As much as I love Sergio Corbucci & his vast grim landscape of Spaghetti Westerns, I was appalled by this grossly dumb cop comedy - it really does make the Police Academy films seem like the highest form of comic entertainment. But this is not the first time I've experienced the pain of Italian Comedy. There's just something that doesn't connect between our two continents. Slide Whistles are not actually funny - in fact, let's just avoid goofy sound effects all together. Sped Up Frame Rate is also not comic gold. And Ernest Borgnine dancing on a balloon is not funny...ok, that might have been genius.

The Master:  Similar to There Will Be Blood, Paul Thomas Anderson's The Master is a powerhouse performance piece photographed with the eye of a painter as well as a craftsman.  But also similar to There Will Be Blood, I never quite connected with the emotional turmoil of its three leads.  Joaquin Phoenix is a shaking tyrant of psychosis who stumbles into the equally mental clutches of Phillip Seymour Hoffman's L Ron Hubbard substitute.  But The Master is not an all out assault on Scientology.  Whatever your opinions on the pseudo-ideology (can you guess my viewpoint?) The Master will not change your mind.  It will pick your scabs, but there is fun in that emotional mutilation. The film is a battle for the soul of Phoenix whether it's worth saving or not, and the two lead actors give spine-twistingly painful performances, bending & breaking under the weight of their psychological warfare.  Witnessing The Master is a lot like an ant accepting his place under the magnifying glass; what looked like a pleasant spot to sunbathe transformed into an excruciating glimpse at life's end.

Justified - Season 4 "The Bird Has Flown": Ah, poor Raylan.  His bartender bedroom partner turned out to be quite the devious minx.  With a little help from his Marshal friends, he tracks her & her doofy looking beau across various Kentucky Backyard Brawls and finally retrieves the contents of his looted sock drawer.  But does a van full of chickens stand in the way of true happiness?  Or is it just a sign that Raylan doesn't deserve it?

The Sessions:  You pretty much get everything from this film that you get from reading the logline or watching the trailer.  John Hawkes is a poet trapped inside his body that's in turn trapped inside an iron lung.  He's a virgin looking for love he deems impossible to grasp.  After consulting the most cinematic of Catholic priests (the ever charming William H Macy), he seeks the consult of Helen Hunt's sexual surrogate.  Solid performances.  Hearts will be warmed.  Sex will be had.  But it is very much that quirky indie film that excelled so well at Sundance twenty years back, and it's an era of cinema that holds little interest for me these days.

The Impossible:  This movie destroyed me.  And I mean that as the highest of compliments.  Ewan McGregor & Naomi Watts are Mom & Dad.  They take their three boys to Thailand for a relaxing beachside vacation.  Ten minutes into the movie the 2004 Tsunami hits and the world around them is engulfed in horror.  The family is cast apart - Mom and eldest son, flesh ripped from branches & trash, drag their ravaged bodies across the swampy wasteland while Dad & the two youngest drift from hospital to hospital in search & rescue.  This is a survival saga.  It's not a downer.  It's thrilling.  But exhausting.  I pretty much cried through the entire runtime.  Is it emotional torture porn?  Maybe.  And it does irk me that the real life Spanish family is painted over with white actors.  That being said, McGregor & Watts are phenomenal actors.  And Tom Holland as the eldest son is even better.  They sell the pain, but they also sell the love and the joy.  Grab your hankies and mentally prepare yourself, but when you're ready The Impossible is a powerful celebration of life.

Hansel & Gretel - Witch Hunters:  There is a fun shitty movie to be had here.  But the filmmakers can't seem to find the sculpture in this block of fecal stone.  Gemma Arterton & Jeremy Renner are lifeless as the infamous hag bait children all grown up.  Famke Janssen is even more wooden as the lead Witch plotting to free her sisters from the pain of fire.  And the only thing more inanimate than the players is the script.  I couldn't help but think of Terry Gilliam's unfairly maligned & far superior Brothers Grimm while this dud played out.   I scratch my head - for a film featuring gattling gun massacres & speed racer broom chases there is not an ounce of fun to be had in this plodding B Movie.

The ABCs of Death:  I love anthology films.  But they're never perfect.  Their mostly fair to midland by nature.  The ABCs of Death is no different.  26 Directors are given a letter of the alphabet and three minutes to tell a story of destruction.  You've got guys like Jason Eisner (Hobo With A Shotgun), Lee Hardcastle (Pingu), Angela Bettis (Roman), Ti West (House of the Devil), and Ben Wheatley (Kill List) with titles like "B is for Bigfoot" & "T is for Toilet".  Some stories are fun.  Some are gross.  Some surreal.  And some are downright terrible.  But it's a great experiment and I was glued to the screen as each letter turned to the next.  My favorite letter had to be "H is for Hydro-Electric Diffusion" featuring a World War II bulldog ace and a feline Nazi stripper cat.  Absolutely bonkers.

The House of Frankenstein:  Here you've got all your favorite Universal Monsters clambering to win your attention for a brief 80 minutes  John Carradine makes the briefest of appearances as the dimmest of Draculas and the film really doesn't become enjoyable until his carriage crashes through the sunny skyline.  Boris Karloff kicks ass as the Mad Doctor determined to resurrect Frankenstein's Monster but when does Karloff not kick ass?  Lon Chaney maintains his mopey moon man problems while J Carrol Naish's Hunchback rages over his good looks.  This is not a classic.  But it's of a time & place that's essential for genre lovers.

Shaft:  Melvin Van Peebles' Sweet Sweetbacks Baadasssss Song might have been the birth of the Blaxploitation era, but it was MGM's Shaft that cemented the pseudo-genre as a gateway to bucket loads of cash.  It's a decent crime story.  Nowhere near as good as its inevitable legacy, but Richard Roundtree (along with Issac Hayes' brilliant theme song) is why this private dick will forever be remembered as an icon of cool.  He's got the smile, the wit, the bravado, the mustache, and the jacket.  It's basically Yojimbo all over again as Shaft navigates between Harlem hoods & the Italian Mob.  There's a kidnapping plot and a shattering pistol whipped window that brings a great smile to my face.  But for me it's the sequels where Shaft really scores.

Invincible #100:  After so much build up, I'm pretty sure the final confrontation between Mark Grayson and Dinosaurus was bound to be a disappointment.  And Kirkman's decision to play the most dramatic element of their battle off panel is a clever, if somewhat frustrating manner to supersede our expectations.  The final punch of issue 100 lands like a reset button with Invincible finding himself back in the safe arms of the government.  This is epic stuff...but The Death of Everyone????  This definitely did not live up to the solicitation expectation.  Of course, how much brutality can one book take?  I say, MORE!

Batman Incorporated #7:  Grant Morrison's run in The New 52 has been peeks & valleys.  It certainly doesn't feel like it belongs with the rest of the continuity, but I really don't care if it jives with Justice League or not.  He's still writing Damien Wayne better than anybody else, and the young Robin's return to spandex shown here is sooooo freaking badass.  And his love of animals?  One panel depicting a snuggling pile of Bat Cow, Ace the Bat Hound, and Alfred the Butler Cat?  That's just two tons of comic book fun.  Go save your Dad, Robin.  And bash some teeth in while you're at it.

Shaft's Big Score:  When the brother of the woman he's currently banging explodes all over the neighborhood,  P.I. John Shaft continues his Yojimbo war between Harlem's top goon Bumpy & the white faced Mob.  A lot more gunplay than the original film, Shaft's Big Score is the violent crime drama you're looking for with tumbling car chases and shotgun helicopter battles.  Richard Roundtree supplies even better one-liners, and even bigger badass swagger.  This is the king of cool.

--Brad

Movie Review: The Thing from Another World

With the Space Age coming into its own during the 50s, more eyes than ever before were looking toward the sky, and not always with expectations of joy and salvation.  There was fear.  We were, if only in the smallest way, coming to terms with our place in the universe, and our relative unimportance.  The cosmic vastness that Lovecraft wrote about in his work, that mind shattering, soul searing knowledge of human insignificance that could drive a man mad.  A manifestation of this revelation, and of the fear it brought, was the alien invasion science fiction horror film.  Chariots of the Gods, man!

A fairly common movie plot, with fairly typical anti-science mentality, was the ‘guy gets shot into space, sees/touches something he shouldn’t, comes back to Earth and turns into a horrible killing machine.’  In other words, it’s dangerous up there, and shouldn’t we just not try?  There were a lot of variations on the theme, but the general idea echoed the fear of the Tower of Babel, strive and you will be doomed.  I never really like those stories.  I can more easily stomach, and enjoy, the ‘creature from space invasion’ movies.  There are, of course, many of those as well.  The drive-ins were littered with teenagers getting menaced by hulking carpet monsters or aliens that looked like Renaissance fair refugees.  Occasionally, a movie would rise above the rest, eventually becoming a classic.  Though, sometimes, really good movies fell through the cracks to become forgotten or mocked.  The Thing From Another World is an example that achieved classic status, later getting one of Universal’s early 80s remakes that then went on to become a classic in its own right.

The film takes the action to the Arctic Circle, where a group of scientists are onto something.  And what they’ve found could be the greatest discovery of all time, or the end of the world.  The isolated setting is a simple, but effective way of ramping up tension without saying much.  And we’re quickly introduced to a group of friends, exchanging good natured jabs as they explain the situation to the audience.  The characters are instantly likable, which I find to be an important aspect of a good horror film (most films, in truth).  Even the annoying reporter is sarcastically fun.  From there, the cast expands to the scientists and folks at the research station, each with a distinct and interesting personality.

I like that while mentioning the Soviets, the film never becomes a Cold War propaganda piece.  Or, if it does, it was far too subtle for me to pick up.  So many films of the era, even some of the really good ones, quickly descend into blatant allegory or extreme preachiness (The Day the World Stood Still, anyone?), so it’s a welcome change of pace.   The dialog is snappy and fun, with lots of layers and quick jabs, so you’ve got to pay attention.  Even the exposition works without feeling like a lecture.  The scientists start tossing facts at our military hero (and thus, at us), but the use of multiple speakers and information sources keeps things from getting too bogged down, and it doesn’t take long to get our players back into a plane on and their way to some action.

While the creature, the Thing (James Arness), isn’t the shape-shifting horror of the 1982 remake, it still manages to carry apocalyptic potential.  While some want to reason with it, others believe it too inhuman to be reasoned with.  And, if it gets out of the cold, its spawn could cover the Earth.  As the film progresses, there are plenty of powerful and effective sequences.  One of the coolest is when our heroes try to burn the thing.  Lots of fire and yelling, and stuff getting broken.  All in stark black and white.  And as things heat up, our intrepid, sometimes aggravating reporter picks up a butcher’s knife to go along with his camera.  That’s my kind of reporting.  (And where’s my butcher knife wielding reporter action figure/statue?).

The Thing from Another World is an excellent example of the alien invasion subgenre of science fiction-horror of the 1950s.  Deserving of its classic status, if anything I think it’s kind of fallen by the wayside in recent years due in large part to the major success of its remake.  I don’t sing its praises as any kind of attack on that 1982 John Carpenter classic, either.  Both movies are very good for very different reasons.  If you haven’t seen it, check it out.  If you only vaguely remember it from The Creature Double Feature, or Joe Bob Briggs, or something, give it another go.

-Matt

Book Review: My Year of Flops

“All cinephiles reach a moment in their intellectual development when they realize that Oliver Stone is full of shit.”

It may come as something of a surprise to some readers that I’m something of a movie fan.  Since I was a wee lad, I’ve been fascinated by movies, by their stories, by their stars and creators, and by their techniques of realization.  And sure, I’ve loved big budget, hugely successful movies like Star Wars, Raiders of the Lost Ark, and The Karate Kid.  Yes, I’ve loved classics like Casablanca, Lawrence of Arabia, and 2001.  But along the way, I’ve also embraced the failures.  Those movies that never connected with the masses.  Movies of such distinct vision, or strange message, or ambiguous narrative, they almost couldn’t help but fail.  Movies that went for it and strove to be different.  Movies like Howard The Duck, The Adventures of Buckaroo Banzai Across the Eighth Dimension, and Southland Tales.

For a film fan like me, it doesn’t have to be high brow.  It doesn’t have to be ART!!!  Heck, sometimes it just has to be mildly entertaining or feature a brief surprise.  But generally, it has to be fun or interesting.  Preferably both.  Consequently, I find myself watching a lot of movies the general public turns their collective nose up at.  No, I’m not saying my taste is better.  But when you hear people rant and rave about how they don’t make good movies anymore, while said ranter and raver talks about how great and ‘creative’ Avatar was, you have to wonder.  But looking under the rocks, at the movies most people passed over, you find the gems.  You find the really interesting, sometimes bold, often times heart filled movies that make me love the medium and remind me that they do make great films, they’ve always made great films, and they will continue to make great films.  And many of those have been, are, and will be commercial and critical flops.

Nathan Rabin’s book, My Year of Flops is devoted to those movies, famous and not so famous films that failed to connect, or just failed.  A few obvious choices like Ishtar, Glitter, and Cleopatra are bolstered by a roster of more obscure and forgotten movies like O.C. and Stiggs, Bratz: The Movie, and Breakfast of Champions.  Rabin looks at these movies through the eyes of a man like myself, who loves movies, and wants to give them a fair shake.  Even his rating system reminds me of my own feelings about movies.  “Failure, Fiasco, or Secret Success.”  A failure is just that.  It’s a movie that fails on all counts.  It’s not well written, it’s not well acted, it’s poorly conceived and/or executed, and generally it lacked vision or passion.  A fiasco is a movie where a lot went into it, passion, money, mountain moving effort, etc., but for whatever reason, the end result was a disaster.  And obviously, the secret success is the movie that was actually really good, but never caught on.  There aren’t a lot of ‘failures’ in this book, and I think that makes sense.  To be a really good flop usually takes a lot of effort.

The book had me laughing boisterously on many occasions, as his descriptions of the movies, of their failings, of the effects the movies had on himself, his friends, critics, etc. build to some awe inspiring bits of insanity.  His story of seeing Postal pretty much by himself at a gigantic theater, and the projectionist sheepishly admitting he found the movie kind of funny…Gold.  The interviews with a very confused Michael Jai White about his time working on Breakfast of Champions, or with a wrathful Richard Dreyfuss about working with Oliver Stone on W, among others feature insights into the making of, and living with flops.  But in spite of the irreverent, expletive peppered writing, it is always obvious that Rabin loves what he does.  He respects the medium, and tries to find the good.

Wait...What?

“If 70s cinema was a lowbrow slobs-vs.-snobs comedy, Altman would be the John Belushi-esque Dionysus tossing Peter Bogdanovich in the pool, shattering his monocle, and soaking his silk ascot.”

Rabin bookends the whole with Elizabethtown, one of the movies that inspired the project in the first place.  It’s fascinating to see his take on the movie at the beginning, and then his take on it three years later, after working on this project (a web article and then this book).  I’ve experienced similar things throughout my life in film fandom.  Heck, every 6 or 8 years I give A Clockwork Orange another try, thinking maybe this time I’ll like it.  On paper, I should LOVE that movie.  But I HATE it.  Still, maybe one day.

As an added bonus, the book has an appendix.  Waterworld: Director’s Cut, Minute-by-Minute.  This ‘as it happens’ report from the front lines of horror is hysterical and painful.  But like I frequently say, I watch these awful movies so you don’t have to.  And he’s taking a bullet for the rest of us here.  Read it, laugh at it, learn from it, and don’t make the mistake he did.

“Surly Pee-Drinking Fish-Man!  Come Back!”

This book should be a part of any film fan’s library.  A must read for the movie buff.  It’s funny, fast paced, informative, and it comes from love.  It’s dangerous though.  It’s made me really want to see some movies I’m quite sure are terrible (Glitter!), and it’s made me want to revisit some movies I genuinely disliked (Postal!).  But there are some I have a feeling I’ll really dig (Joe VS the Volcano).

My Year of Flops
Author: Nathan Rabin
Publisher: Scribner
ISBN: 978-1-4391-5312-3

-Matt

Matt’s Week in Dork! (1/27/13-2/2/13)

It’s lean days for this Dork.  And I’ll admit, I don’t think my head is in the game.  Still, got a few solid selections in and got some reading done.  So all is not lost.  Without intention  I spent a lot of time in Asia with my movies this week.  Japan, China, Indonesia.  That and more time with British science fiction.  But that’s not new.


Maverick:  “Gums his food and his women.”  Remember the good old days, when we didn’t know Mel Gibson was a belligerent nut-job?  I could have gone forever without finding out.  The 90s were a bad decade for a lot of folks for a lot of reasons.  Few suffered quite as much as 80s action icons.  Arnold, Van Damme, Harrison Ford, Bruce Willis, Stallone, and yeah, Mel Gibson.  Somehow everything had this made for TV blandness about it, and the larger than life personas of the previous decade seemed like they were on tranquilizers or something.  Non-threatening scripts, non-threatening cinematography, no nudity of course (or very, very little), no blood or gore, and the f*%#ing music of f*%#ing Randy Newman.  As Raul Duke would say, this is what the world would look like if the Nazis won the war.  Out of this came Maverick, a movie re-envisioning of the classic TV series.  There’s nothing essentially wrong with the film, and maybe that’s what’s wrong with it.  It’s extremely OK.  What’s the word?  Banal.  It never displays the kind of balls it takes to be really good, or to dramatically fail, which leaves it in a kind of default ‘something I’m watching’ state, which was sort of what that whole decade was like.  It has a cornucopia of ‘that guy’ actors with great Western faces, and I love Jodie Foster.  But she feels completely wrong here.  The Danny Glover cameo is painful but Graham Greene’s appearance is a highlight.  The story?  Meh.  Characters?  Meh.  It’s the 90s, man.  I guess I should just be glad Julia Roberts wasn’t in it.

The Time Machine:  “All the time in the world!”  H.G. Wells wrote two of my all time favorite books, The War of the Worlds and The Time Machine.  Both have inspired countless works and been adapted in various ways many times.  Neither has ever really gotten its due on film.  But this George Pal adventure film is a pretty good attempt, even if it misses many of the best aspects of the book.  Wells did not tend to feature romantic subtext.  And in fact, it would have been somewhat inappropriate in The Time Machine, as the simple folk the Time Traveler encounters in the distant future are little more than humanoid sheep or passive children.  In this version, they’re more like vacuous, beautiful, Aryan 20 somethings in Jessica 6 outfits.  Unlike The Island of Dr. Moreau, which desperately called for the sexual tension so conspicuously absent from the novel, I’m still not sold on it in The Time Machine (though it did give filmmakers an excuse for dressing Samantha Mumba in that crazy mesh getup in the lackluster remake, and that earns a lot of forgiveness).  Whatever the case, our dashing, turn of the century inventor catapults himself through time, seeing the disintegration of civilization by prolonged war until he arrives in an almost unfathomable future.  The exploration of this new world has always been my favorite part of the film.  Much like the first 30 minutes of Planet of the Apes, or the first 45 minutes of Alien, or that middle 20 minutes of Beneath the Planet of the Apes where they’re in the underground, the exploration of an alien environment and all its potential danger and wonder pulls me in.  And though I know the movie must move on, I’m always a bit sad when it ends, like my playtime has been spoiled by the inevitable setting of the sun and call to supper.  The production design is interesting and the music the right brand of crazy.  Rod Taylor is a great leading man, and I’m always a little sad he wasn’t in more quality movies (sure, he’s got a few really good ones, but not enough for me).  The whole thing is more upbeat than Wells’ novel, but that’s no shock, as I don’t think Hollywood could handle his less than optimistic outlook on humanity’s future.  I do still hold out some hope, however misguided, that one day both The War of the Worlds and The Time Machine will get a more loyal adaptation.  I know that print and film are two very different means of storytelling, but I think both novels could be done better, for sure.  In the meantime, this is a darned cool sci-fi adventure film.

House of Bamboo:  “You better go.”  In post-War Japan, a G.I. is murdered and zzzzzzz…  The footage of Japan is a fascinating glimpse into the state of things in the wake the second World War.  It doesn’t matter what Fox’s DVD box says though, this is not a Noir film.  At least it does deal with hoodlums and crime.  But all in the bright light of day, in vibrant color.  Robert Stack is the lifeless dolt who blunders his way into trouble after trouble, but he’s got a secret.  Seriously, Stack seems to be purposefully trying not to project anything that might accidentally be seen as charisma.  Robert Ryan is the criminal boss picking at the bones of a city trying to build itself up.  And his journey from successful boss to cracked nut is kind of fascinating.  Other than Robert Ryan, the film’s only real selling point is as a visual record of a particular time and place that doesn’t focus on (but doesn’t ignore) the tourist hot-spots.  I can’t help but wish filmmakers could go back in time and make a better film so I could enjoy the setting more.  Run Don’t Walk is still many years away, and much of the character seems to have changed by then.

Doctor Who: The Krotons:  After scouring the English countryside for the weirdest looking people possible for the guest cast, this story about crystal-robots keeping human slaves and occasionally eating their brains is fairly well done, but a bit formulaic.  Granted, this is early enough in the series that perhaps it’s more of a formula establishment, but whatever the case, it feels like pretty familiar territory for this Who fan.  Still, I’m always glad to see one of the all too rare Patrick Troughton stories.  Zoe and Jamie are cool companions.  I like that Zoe does a lot less screaming than other female companions.  She’s possibly the Doctor’s intellectual equal (maybe even superior), but much more rational and cool headed.  And Jamie ain’t too bright, but he’s clever, strong, and resourceful.  All in all, a perfectly fine, if not especially memorable story.

Challenge of the Masters:  “The Death Kicks?  Killing Spear?  Those techniques come from the North!” Gordon Liu has such a strange, child-like, almost alien way about him.  He makes for an extremely charming lead, even when he’s playing kind of a tool.  I love all the completely ape-nuts contests you can find in martial arts films.  The firecracker contest that is so important in this movie seems about as reasonable perfectly safe as one of those Dan Ackroid Christmas gifts from that old SNL skit (what kid doesn’t want a bag o’ broken glass?).  But I dig these crazy mellow Kung Fu masters.  The good ones are so chill.  Some mole-faced bastard has to come along and cause a ruckus.  Still, that results in killer kung fu in several wild battles.  Spears, fists, plant pots.  And everything is so dusty!  And it’s true what they say, “although your breath control’s good, it can’t beat my death kick.”  As expected, nay, demanded, there are lots of weird training rituals that our hero must work through.  And there’s some rockin’ spear fighting, which is a favorite of mine, and not a weapon I see used a lot, at least not in key fights where the techniques are prominently featured.  It’s also one of the few martial arts films that seems to do more than talk the talk when it comes to the philosophy.  The ending is genuinely in tune with the ethical teachings.

Lady Terminator:  “That’s an authentic reproduction.”  So, the movie starts out with a chick who can’t get no satisfaction, killing the dudes who don’t… uh, make her happy.  Then a guy shows up, does his bit, and steels a snake out of her lady business (it bites the wangs off the guys that don’t please her), which then becomes a dagger.  She’s having none of that, so curses his descendants before going to the bottom of the ocean to join forces with evil.  You know.  That old story.  Fast forward to the present day where we find a scientist, a cop, and a rock star on a collision course with an evil goddess and her penetrating snake.  Combining dreadful acting with even more dreadful dubbing, they manhandle an inept script like it’s their job.  Presaging the crafty creation of Tara Reid’s Alone in the Dark scientist (She is wearing GLASSES, man!  Of course she’s a scientist.), our dim-bulb nymphet anthropologist has all the subtlety and naturalness of a porn star (“But…I didn’t order any …pizza?!).  Indonesia went movie making mad in the early 80s.  Unfortunately, they didn’t go in too much for quality in writing, production, or acting.  Our lady terminator also has magic undies, which only appear when she’s facing the camera, but are absent when she’s facing the other direction.  And I guess you don’t need robots from the future.  You just need a snake in your hoo-hah to be an unkillable machine of death.  There are hints of better films, like Layer of the White Worm, Cat People, …The Terminator (OK, not hints, but blatant rip-offs in the case of The Terminator), etc.  But it fails in just about every way possible.  Snake, though.  He has to be the coolest Debbie Gibson haired, giant nosed, girly bird-man in a Canadian tuxedo I’ve ever seen.  If this movie worked really hard, it might eventually rise to amateur hour at the Half-Ass Hotel Jamboree.  Sadly, like all too many movies filmed in Southeast Asia, it is not only extremely derivative, it’s also crushingly dull.  Although the spiraling insanity of the climax, especially Snake’s part in it, makes the movie worth a watch.  I recommend gathering friends, as without their helpful MST3K banter, you might not stay conscious until the last ten minutes, where it gets kind of amazing.

OK, on Friday night, thanks 100% to co-Dork Brad, I got to the AFI Silver to see House of Frankenstein, hosted by local celebrity Count Gore De Vol.  Not being from this area, I sadly don’t have the history with the man and his show that I am sure I would have had growing up here.  In my own hometown, we had Eddie Driscoll and the Great Money Movie.  And I know, around the country there were various local stations with their own crazy character for horror, sci-fi, or crime movies.  The Count was very fun, and there was lots of footage from his old shows (what was with all the Penthouse pets?).  This was his 40th anniversary as the Count, and House of Frankenstein was his first film.  There were games, guests, and ghoulish good times.  And one lucky winner gets to co-host an episode of his web show.  It’s one of the biggest crowds I’ve seen to date at the AFI.  Maybe the biggest.

House of Frankenstein:  I love Boris Karloff more and more as the years go by.  I don’t think he ever really let it get him down, but the fact that he was type cast as a horror movie villain-type is too bad.  He was a heck of an actor, with a lot of subtlety that could have added strength to many other films, drama, comedy, whatever (check him out in Targets!).  Still, within the genre, he flexed a great deal of muscle, playing a range of characters from the pathetic, to the sympathetic, to charming, to the absolutely diabolic.  House of Frankenstein was pretty late in the Universal Monsters run, and it was obviously a gimmick.  Let’s see how many monsters we can clumsily work in.  But, it’s a lot of fun and Karloff is a great villainous protagonist, on a trek across the continent with evil science on the mind.  After totally screwing over Dracula, he manipulates the Wolfman and Frankenstein’s Monster in a fiendish plan to put brains in dogs or something.  And all the way, his hunchbacked manservant and former fellow inmate does his bidding.  But when Hunch gets his heart broken by a fickle Gypsy vixen, all hell will break loose.  It’s not a great movie.  But this and House of Dracula were both fun and they sort of paved the way for Toho’s Destroy All Monsters.

Mothra VS Godzilla (aka Godzilla VS The Thing):  Less the allegory for atomic weapons, Godzilla has become more of an embodiment of uncontrollable nature.  The movie starts with a tremendous storm that wreaks devastation upon the region.  Out of that comes Godzilla, like a continuation of the storm; impersonal, dangerous, but without purposeful malice.  Then there are the tiny twins and their magical connection of a gigantic moth and the brutalized survivors living on a bombed out island.  Will a couple of brave reporters be able to convince them to work their songstress magics in an effort to direct one giant monster against another?  One of the best classic Godzilla films, it features many of the elements that make the series so much fun to watch.  Good human drama, a fast pace, excellent use of music, cool sequences of miniature destruction, and a sense of wonder and awe.  It also deals with director Ishiro Honda’s frequent theme of the Brotherhood of Man, the idea that love and understanding between all the world’s peoples could reshape and heal our future.  For what in many ways is a disaster film, it has an uplifting message, and it’s no surprise that these films resonated so strongly with young and old.

Doctor Who: Death to the Daleks:  When the Tardis suddenly looses all power, The Doctor and Sarah Jane are stuck on a desolate, ugly world.  Lurking about are awkward somethings in dirty robes that blend in with the terrain.  And blue-suited invader types who can’t get their ship to take off.  To top it off, a sophisticated city of light shines like a beacon on the horizon, but promises death to anyone who goes near.  All in all a pretty standard set-up for a classic Who story.  And then, the twist.  Sadly, the title of the story arc kind of gives that away.  But then, another twist!  Multiple factions, various interests, trouble of all kinds.  Oh, Doctor.  The music is weird, with a kind of goofy, humorous tone.  The story does have some interesting ideas, and like a lot of the better ones, uses the standard situational set-up to good effect by playing with your expectations.  Sarah Jane is much better here than she frequently is during this era, not nearly as screamy and whiney.  The guest cast is very good, and their stories play out in different ways than you might expect.  The thing, the Root, I think it’s called, that guards the city is pretty cool, too.  It reminds me of the gun-head from the War of the Worlds ships, but acts kind of like a snake.  Though yes, you can see the wires, I thought the scene where it comes out of the water to kill the slave guy was darned effective.

Sapphire and Steel:  This was an odd one for me.  I saw the first story (the first disk) a few years back, and it didn’t really click with me.  I’m not a Joanna Lumley fan at all, and David McCallum seemed to be phoning in his usual dour terseness.  Little character development, a rather shocking slow pace, and a lot of obscurity.  Why did I watch another disk?  No idea.  I didn’t much care for it either and gave up.  For some reason, a few months back, I decided to try watching it again, and I’m glad of it.  The series as a whole has some issues.  And a LOT is left unexplained and unexplored.  The deeper nature of the elements, their goals and greater purpose, remain vague.  They seem to work for someone/thing.  They seem to be tasked with repairing breaks or imperfections in time.  And they don’t seem to be human.  What is causing the time imperfections?  Is it directed?  Sometimes there seems to be a force at work against them, others it seems to simply be random or natural.  The pace never increases, remaining a snail throughout.  But the ideas and general haunting strangeness make the whole thing kind of grow on you.  There is an essential Britishness about it, in its stubborn refusal to go where you expect, to reveal the truth, and to have easy answers, or to have a relatable, likeable cast.  Due to strange subject matter and time of production, I am sometimes reminded of the more kid-aimed Tomorrow People, though that show was less inscrutable.  I don’t know that I can recommend it to most people, but if you like UK sci-fi, if you like the surreal, if you don’t mind working for it, you might want to check this one out.  And what an ending!  I would love to see someone do a serious reworking of this show’s concept.  Limited cast, extremely limited location.  You could do it on a small budget.  You just need the writing.

Tokyo Drifter:  “A drifter needs no woman.”  From the ultra-stylized opening, you know this isn’t your average film.  Right away I was reminded of lower budget crime films from the States, like Killer’s Kiss or Murder by Contract.  But swingin’ 60s Tokyo has a look and feel all its own.  Contrasting black and white with some crazy vibrant colors cranks up the wild and strange.  And the accompanying jazz is perfect.  This is the Japan James Bond should have arrived at in You Only Live Twice.  Director Seijun Suzuki was apparently quite the pain in studio boss’s ass, making movies they just didn’t get.  But you can’t accuse them of being dull.  I really can’t talk up the madness of the color usage enough.  Sin City used some similar techniques, but it feels totally different here, more theatrical, more surreal.  Not to mention the equally surreal, seemingly always going on, go-go dancing.  And the crazy old-time bar fight?  OK.

Sunday morning, I finished Penn Jillette’s book Every Day is an Atheist Holiday!, which I received as a Christmas gift.  Heh.  Anyway, I’d picked it up to look at the introduction, figuring I’d put it on my ‘to read’ pile for the upcoming months, and ended up blowing through like 60 pages.  So, it’s sat on my end table serving as my early morning coffee book for the last month and it’s been great (sadly, it did get a mouthful of coffee spit on it at one point due to the stupid set-up of the human repertory and digestive system).  Definitely worth seeking out and reading.

And on Saturday morning, I finished My Year of Flops, which is a great book for film buffs who aren’t stuck in the Art House mode.

-Matt

"More Extensive Than Extended?" - Super Bowl Movie Trailers!

I don't much care for football.  I work every Super Bowl.  I let my sports fanatic friends have their parties.  But what I do love is coming home to all the crazy cool movie trailers, and as far as film geekery is concerned, it looks like this might be one of the best Pigskin Tournaments yet.  I love the airline disaster of the Iron Man 3 trailer.  I'm thrilled by the destruction of the Enterprise in the Star Trek spot.  And even The Lone Ranger got a chuckle from me.  But the trailer of the night has to be Fast and Furious 6.  It's got tanks.  Explosions.  Cars vs Jets.  Explosions.  And The Rock jump punching.  I'm not going to fool myself.  Star Trek Into Darkness, Pacific Rim, and Iron Man 3 are my most anticipated films of the summer.  But - and I'm just amazed by this fact - Fast and Furious 6 is a close fourth at this point.

--Brad

Dork Art: "Can't We All Just Get Along?" Star Trek vs Star Wars

A lot of chatter on the internet about Star Trek & Star Wars these days.  JJ Abrams getting the Episode VII job has thrown many a Trekkie into emotional turmoil.  But friends, I'm here to tell you that we live in a geek paradise, and we are now allowed to love both Star Trek & Star Wars.  It's not one or the other (although it is obvious that Trek is superior to Star Wars, right?).  Artist Robert Shane has come to the rescue with this pair of Star Trek/Star Wars mashups.  I'm so tired of William Shatner & Carrie Fischer fighting.  Let's just agree that both franchises are awesome and move on.

--Brad

A Fistful of Warm Bodies! (Brad's Picks)

Just when you think they've run out of fresh brains, zombie audiences are forced to feed on the undead teen romance.  Gross.  But weirder for me is that I'm actually interested...now if only it got super necropheliac disgusting, but I somehow doubt it.  Anyway - Forget Zombies!  I'm tired of talking about them.  Let's talk about our favorite cinematic barbecues instead!

5.  Cropsey (The Burning):  Freddy Krueger might seem like the obvious choice when it comes to horribly burned child murders run amuck, but for my money Cropsey is just a touch ickier in the cooked face department.  A group of campers attempt to scare the old weirdo caretaker & the result is the incredible melting manstrosity.  Five years later Cropsey awakens and sets out for some fiery revenge - with the added bonus of garden sheer impaling.  Imagine Friday the 13th with less polish - yikes, right?  The Burning is a sick little gem filled with twisted kills and oddball casting choices (Fischer Stevens!  Jason Alexander!); strictly B (um...) D Movie territory, but an essential entry in the lesser known slashers.

4.  The Creature (Creature From The Black Lagoon):  It's quick.  Blink and you'll miss it.  But when The Creature oversteps his bounds on man's boat he gets his reptilian ass set ablaze.  Just think of stuntman, Ben Chapman, already covered in a cumbersome suit of rubber and now imagine that suit melting around his flesh.  Nasty business, fire stunts.  But they sure do look cool.

3.  The Unkillable Chev Chelios (Crank 2 - High Voltage):  There is just no topping the climax of Crank 2.  After surviving his skyfall execution of the first film, Jason Statham charges through the sequel as rage personified.  It all builds to the beachfront massacre - where Chev's army of prostitutes and homosexual bikers machine gun it out with the pickled head of Ricky Verona and the ferret obsessed Cliffton Collins Jr.  It's absolutely bonkers and must be seen to be believed - when The Stath is ignited he's more than happy to take the licks.

2.  The Bennings Thing (The Thing):  This is the first fire effect I ever remember seeing.  And it's still as effective today as it was in '82.  After MacReady and the gang exterminate the horrors of the dog kennel, they quickly discover that one of their own (poor moaning Bennings) has been infected/transformed by the alien creature.  This is the turning point in the film - Trust No One.  And burn 'em all.

1.  Sergeant Howie (The Wicker Man):  It's rough being a righteous virgin on an island full of sun worshipping pagans.  First they confound the hell outta you with their the wall thumping nudity of Britt Ekland then they wrap you in wicker and light your ass on fire.  Well, at least he didn't get Nicolas Cage's Bees.

--Brad