*Watch the film on Amazon Prime here*
This short documentary is misunderstood almost as much as its three subjects.
Robert Krulwich is a journalist and reporter who has amassed a few things from his years in front of the camera and microphone. One of those treasured items is a handful of dead grass he brought home when he was a teenager, remembering a date with his girlfriend to Central Park. Heidi Julavits is an author whose crowded apartment is what you picture an author's apartment to be- books everywhere. Also there are some of the belongings of the European actress Isabelle Corey, and she begins imagining the life of the actress who suddenly turned her back on stardom for a life of anonymity. Rick Rawlings' family was constantly on the move thanks to his father's job. One day, he had been invited to a birthday party on the same day they were leaving town, so he stopped to say goodbye to the friend whose party he couldn't attend. The friend handed him a sugar egg, and Rick held onto that fragile piece for forty years, keeping it in a wooden box whose construction through materials of his childhood is also wrapped in memories.
I have a checkered history with objects. Stuff. Things. I've been married twice, and each marriage saw me bring absolutely nothing into my new households. You might think that due to my upbringing, I didn't have a lot of stuff and that is partly true, but I was also raised in a household(s) where physical items took precedence over familial relationships. When moving overseas (two tours in Japan, one extended visit/stay in the United Kingdom), it usually fell upon me to get ride of my "unnecessary" stuff first through forced garage sales or simply tossing items away. The Air Force would pay for a certain weight of household possessions before charging the personnel with the overweight total, and I don't think we ever made the cut off point before Dad would have to shell out money for items we "couldn't live without." Dad was an officer, so appearances had to be kept up, but with the deaths of my parents within the last three and a half years, I got an inside look at their possessions before they were dismissed into the world through internet auctions and garbage. I gave up my cherished books, comic book collection, toys, record albums, journals, drawings and more, so Mom could drag a broken grandfather clock across three continents for six decades on the hope that one day it would be repaired. It wasn't, and sold at an online auction for sixty dollars. That was just the tip of the iceberg. For thirty years of my adult life, I had four photos of myself from when I was a child. It took my parents' deaths before I got my hands on more pictures. Even then, the photographs inexplicably stop at about the time I was ten. I went to eight different schools from first grade through twelfth grade, and only have yearbooks from Grades 4-6, and 12th; granted, I threw out my 8th grade yearbook because no one would want to relive the kind of traumatic year I was having except through intenstive therapy.
This film is unfairly maligned for being boring, and highlighting three weirdos who are holding on to innocuous items that no one cares about but them. In such a disposable society, I can see that point of view, but to the three individuals their objects are remembrances of a happier or different time, and really aren't hurting anyone. I used to watch hoarding shows on cable television, having absolutely no sympathy for the hoarders thanks to my upbringing. My childhood households would never be considered a hoarded household (remember, appearances were everything- including a clean house), but I totally sympathized with tearful family members who realized the hoard was being chosen over them. Thanks to therapy, I was able to come to terms with being second best (and fourth best in the sibling pecking order), and didn't have to witness the chaotic descent of my family after retirement set in. I stayed on the opposite side of the country, built a life, and suffered through parental annual visits (complete with the delivery of more stuff that I did not want), before the parents were too old to drive to visit.
Krulwich, Julavits, and Rawlings are a little sheepish and apologetic when showing off their objects. I'm sure they've heard it all before, and shyly explain why the objects mean so much to them. It's their interests, their objects, and they aren't hurting anyone. When one of the subjects lets their object go for a badly executed idea and it gets destroyed, I felt almost as bad as the object's owner and the people responsible for the object. I knew the pain of being told you had to get rid of something, or worst yet, it being wrenched away from a life you were trying to build on your own. There was life and memories in these objects, but once you go (the old saying "you can't take it with you"), who's going to take care of the tuft of grass, the sugar egg, or Isabelle Corry's sweaters and make-up mirrors? This is why minimalism is all the rage right now- cluttered house, cluttered mind, and so on. I do have belongings, but often unintentionally refer to our possessions as my wife's possessions (I sleep in her bed, etc.). I have about a thousand films on physical media, another thousand books, but as a stay-at-home dad to three kids under the age of eight (one with special needs), there is absolutely no time to watch those films or read those books. Thanks to this documentary, the three subjects are able to explain how they got their items and what they mean to them. There are millions of people out there who don't get that chance, and when they pass away, it's up to family or strangers to get rid of the items. This probably explains why I'm also obsessed with reselling, collecting, urban exploration, and abandoned storage unit videos- I sometimes see something I owned as a child and teen, and then look upwards as if my parents were seeing the same thing- "Good thing I had to throw out that Japanese toy robot, it's only worth two thousand dollars today." I try to imagine an abandoned building back when it was a home. I never had a hometown until I finally labelled the town I spent the most time in as if I grew up there.
By film's end, I was fascinated by these objects. I have almost nothing from my childhood, and the accumulation of items since I reached adulthood and independence doesn't provide the same rose-colored memories that these three documentary subjects have. If anything, I am still bitter about the things I was brought that weren't my own, and have been on a quest to get rid of them for decades now. When my parents passed on, a lot of their stuff passed out of my house, too- donated, recycled, or thrown since I didn't need anyone's permission to get rid of them anymore. They meant nothing to me, and nothing to them since they dumped them on me. I hope Julia, Rick, and Robert hold onto their items and memories of how they made them feel, but like the internet meme of a horrified adult grandchild in front of a giant china hutch full of dishes, "Swedish death cleaning," and a popular decluttering book tells us- "nobody wants your shit."
Stats:
(2021) 63 min. (* * * * 1/2) out of five stars
-Written and Directed by Vincent Liota
-Featuring Robert Krulwich, Rick Rawlings, Heidi Julavits, Isabelle Corry
(Not Rated)- contains mild profanity
Friday, February 28, 2025
Thursday, February 27, 2025
Choke (2001)
*Get the film on Amazon here*
You might see the names "Dennis Hopper" and "Michael Madsen" on the cover of this straight-to-video thriller and ask "how bad can it be?" Trust me, it is worse than you can imagine.
Hopper is businessman Henry. What type of business? I don't know, the writer/director cannot be bothered with such trivial nonsense. Anyway, sleazy business associate Ron (Roy Tate) is trying to pressure Henry into yet another shady deal. Henry refuses, and then gets a call that his cute daughter Gena (Chelcy Reynolds) has just drunkenly run over a district attorney's son and killed him. Roy overhears the conversation, and tries a little blackmail to get Henry to sign on to the deal that we never get to learn more about. The funniest scene occurs at well-to-do (he drives a Hummer) Henry's suite of offices, which is about the size of my bedroom closet. Henry attacks Roy, leaving him coughing and gasping in the office building bathroom. Henry later checks on Roy, and finds him dead. He dumps the body out the bathroom window and makes plans to get rid of it. Cue local serial killer Will (Michael Madsen), who decides to help out Henry. Will already has a body in the trunk of his car, but there's room enough for Roy's carcass, too. The two make an agreement: Will will dump Roy's body, but Henry must help with Will's own alibi for his latest murder. Trust me, the synopsis, a bad riff on "Strangers on a Train," is more interesting than the film.
I am guessing the entire budget for the film was barely enough to pay for Madsen's brand new John Deere cap. The film is goofy-cheap, from the hysterical office suite to Henry's rather modest home. Most of the film involves Henry and Will talking to each other for what feels like hours on end. They cover their childhoods, how dissimilar they are, pick up hitchhikers, leave notes for each other, threaten one another, etc. I eventually forgot whose bodies were in the trunk of the car, and didn't care. Watch for one scene where Will and Henry park and admit to their respective crimes as a peeping tom looks on. Does the peeper's testimony put anyone behind bars? No, his only role is to turn around from Will and Henry and look at the only actress with enough low self-esteem to show some skin in a dressing room scene. The director must have sat in between Madsen and Hopper in the endless driving scenes, because the camera pretty much shows us every nose hair the two actors possess. The finale involves one character's lack of peripheral vision, I was laughing instead of being thrilled or relieved.
"Choke" deservedly went straight to video. Like the DVD cover? Looks kind of cool? A gauze-wrapped face, a shovel, oooohhhh! Aside from the cut and paste picture of the two stars, which I believe came from another film anyway, none of that is in the movie. Pick a better flick.
Stats:
(2001) 89 min. (1/2 *) out of five stars
-Written and Directed by Jon Sjogren
-Cast: Dennis Hopper, Michael Madsen, Roy Tate, Chelcy Reynolds, Christopher Frainza, Michele Vittorio Ghersi, Michelle Fozounmayeh, Joy Gray, John Sjogren, Bradley Armstrong Donahue, Tamara Cholakian, Robert Baugh, Paula Stevens
(R)
You might see the names "Dennis Hopper" and "Michael Madsen" on the cover of this straight-to-video thriller and ask "how bad can it be?" Trust me, it is worse than you can imagine.
Hopper is businessman Henry. What type of business? I don't know, the writer/director cannot be bothered with such trivial nonsense. Anyway, sleazy business associate Ron (Roy Tate) is trying to pressure Henry into yet another shady deal. Henry refuses, and then gets a call that his cute daughter Gena (Chelcy Reynolds) has just drunkenly run over a district attorney's son and killed him. Roy overhears the conversation, and tries a little blackmail to get Henry to sign on to the deal that we never get to learn more about. The funniest scene occurs at well-to-do (he drives a Hummer) Henry's suite of offices, which is about the size of my bedroom closet. Henry attacks Roy, leaving him coughing and gasping in the office building bathroom. Henry later checks on Roy, and finds him dead. He dumps the body out the bathroom window and makes plans to get rid of it. Cue local serial killer Will (Michael Madsen), who decides to help out Henry. Will already has a body in the trunk of his car, but there's room enough for Roy's carcass, too. The two make an agreement: Will will dump Roy's body, but Henry must help with Will's own alibi for his latest murder. Trust me, the synopsis, a bad riff on "Strangers on a Train," is more interesting than the film.
I am guessing the entire budget for the film was barely enough to pay for Madsen's brand new John Deere cap. The film is goofy-cheap, from the hysterical office suite to Henry's rather modest home. Most of the film involves Henry and Will talking to each other for what feels like hours on end. They cover their childhoods, how dissimilar they are, pick up hitchhikers, leave notes for each other, threaten one another, etc. I eventually forgot whose bodies were in the trunk of the car, and didn't care. Watch for one scene where Will and Henry park and admit to their respective crimes as a peeping tom looks on. Does the peeper's testimony put anyone behind bars? No, his only role is to turn around from Will and Henry and look at the only actress with enough low self-esteem to show some skin in a dressing room scene. The director must have sat in between Madsen and Hopper in the endless driving scenes, because the camera pretty much shows us every nose hair the two actors possess. The finale involves one character's lack of peripheral vision, I was laughing instead of being thrilled or relieved.
"Choke" deservedly went straight to video. Like the DVD cover? Looks kind of cool? A gauze-wrapped face, a shovel, oooohhhh! Aside from the cut and paste picture of the two stars, which I believe came from another film anyway, none of that is in the movie. Pick a better flick.
Stats:
(2001) 89 min. (1/2 *) out of five stars
-Written and Directed by Jon Sjogren
-Cast: Dennis Hopper, Michael Madsen, Roy Tate, Chelcy Reynolds, Christopher Frainza, Michele Vittorio Ghersi, Michelle Fozounmayeh, Joy Gray, John Sjogren, Bradley Armstrong Donahue, Tamara Cholakian, Robert Baugh, Paula Stevens
(R)
Chisum (1970)
*Get the film on Amazon here*
It is amazing that John Wayne is so popular so many years after his death. No one has ever been able to duplicate the man's screen presence, despite Clint Eastwood's best efforts. John Wayne was beloved, an underrated actor, an even more underrated film director, and a western film icon. Sadly, for every "The Searchers," "The Shootist," "McLintock!" or "Red River," there is a "The Conqueror," or this film.
The Duke is John Chisum, one of those impossibly rich ranch owners who finds himself the target of the villainous Murphy (Forrest Tucker). Murphy is buying up the local town for no real reason. Enter some of the way too many characters when none other than Billy the Kid (Geoffrey Deuel) and Pat Garrett (Glenn Corbett) get involved with the proceedings and compete for Chisum's overly plain niece. The rest of the film consists of too many ambushes and horse chases, as Tucker and Wayne go back and forth until the inevitable violent conclusion.
At one time, this type of western worked- about twenty years before this fossil was released. McLaglen virtually draws pictures on the screen to illustrate the kind of simplistic plot my gerbil could figure out, if I had a gerbil. The scenery is beautiful and Ben Johnson is worth quite a few laughs as Chisum's muttering-under-his-breath sidekick Pepper. The most embarrassing aspect of the film is the treatment of real life characters Billy the Kid, Billy's mentor Henry Tunstall, and Pat Garrett. Garrett ends the film as a hen-pecked sheriff with no indication that he would one day kill The Kid. Tunstall, the European anti-gun rancher who took Bonney and others in, then was gunned down, is a little irritating here. This is the west, he does not carry a gun, so he comes off as weak and completely stupid. Billy the Kid wasn't a cold blooded killer, he apparently succumbed to some sort of 1870's peer pressure, explaining his past crimes to running with the wrong crowd. After these scenes, I kept expecting Father Flanagan to step out from behind a cactus and box Billy on the ear. Tucker and Wayne keep likening their competition to a chess match, and this is about that exciting. The film is badly paced, as McLaglen relies too heavily on his cast's goodwill to carry a story that has been done (better) a hundred times before and since. This is not as bad as "The Conqueror," but I did not expect this level of ineptitude from normally reliable filmmakers.
"Chisum" should have stayed back on the ranch. A few positives keep this at average, barely.
Stats:
(1970) 111 min. (* * 1/2) out of five stars
-Directed by Andrew V. McLaglen
-Written by Andrew J. Fenady
-Cast: John Wayne, Forrest Tucker, Christopher George, Ben Johnson, Glenn Corbett, Andrew Prine, Bruce Cabot, Patric Knowles, Richard Jaeckel, Lynda Day George, Geoffrey Deuel, Pamela McMyer, John Agar
(G)
It is amazing that John Wayne is so popular so many years after his death. No one has ever been able to duplicate the man's screen presence, despite Clint Eastwood's best efforts. John Wayne was beloved, an underrated actor, an even more underrated film director, and a western film icon. Sadly, for every "The Searchers," "The Shootist," "McLintock!" or "Red River," there is a "The Conqueror," or this film.
The Duke is John Chisum, one of those impossibly rich ranch owners who finds himself the target of the villainous Murphy (Forrest Tucker). Murphy is buying up the local town for no real reason. Enter some of the way too many characters when none other than Billy the Kid (Geoffrey Deuel) and Pat Garrett (Glenn Corbett) get involved with the proceedings and compete for Chisum's overly plain niece. The rest of the film consists of too many ambushes and horse chases, as Tucker and Wayne go back and forth until the inevitable violent conclusion.
At one time, this type of western worked- about twenty years before this fossil was released. McLaglen virtually draws pictures on the screen to illustrate the kind of simplistic plot my gerbil could figure out, if I had a gerbil. The scenery is beautiful and Ben Johnson is worth quite a few laughs as Chisum's muttering-under-his-breath sidekick Pepper. The most embarrassing aspect of the film is the treatment of real life characters Billy the Kid, Billy's mentor Henry Tunstall, and Pat Garrett. Garrett ends the film as a hen-pecked sheriff with no indication that he would one day kill The Kid. Tunstall, the European anti-gun rancher who took Bonney and others in, then was gunned down, is a little irritating here. This is the west, he does not carry a gun, so he comes off as weak and completely stupid. Billy the Kid wasn't a cold blooded killer, he apparently succumbed to some sort of 1870's peer pressure, explaining his past crimes to running with the wrong crowd. After these scenes, I kept expecting Father Flanagan to step out from behind a cactus and box Billy on the ear. Tucker and Wayne keep likening their competition to a chess match, and this is about that exciting. The film is badly paced, as McLaglen relies too heavily on his cast's goodwill to carry a story that has been done (better) a hundred times before and since. This is not as bad as "The Conqueror," but I did not expect this level of ineptitude from normally reliable filmmakers.
"Chisum" should have stayed back on the ranch. A few positives keep this at average, barely.
Stats:
(1970) 111 min. (* * 1/2) out of five stars
-Directed by Andrew V. McLaglen
-Written by Andrew J. Fenady
-Cast: John Wayne, Forrest Tucker, Christopher George, Ben Johnson, Glenn Corbett, Andrew Prine, Bruce Cabot, Patric Knowles, Richard Jaeckel, Lynda Day George, Geoffrey Deuel, Pamela McMyer, John Agar
(G)
Wednesday, February 26, 2025
Cheyenne (1996)
*Get the film on Amazon here*
M.C. Hammer, his do-rag, and his razor-wielding little person sidekick Razor (Robert Bell) are just a couple of aspects of this awful, inept western.
Cheyenne (Bobbie Phillips) runs away from jerk husband Starrett (Bo Svenson) and takes all his dirty gun-running money with her. Bounty hunter Jeremiah (Gary Hudson) comes to town, is framed for stealing a horse, and almost finds himself swinging from a tree. Starrett makes him a deal- find his wife alive, and he will get a thousand dollars. Jeremiah rides off to look for Cheyenne. Haddox (M.C. Hammer) and Razor arrive for the job, and Starrett makes them the same deal. Why? Starrett has Jeremiah out there, why bring in another bounty hunter? Keeping in the proud modern western film tradition of automatically trying to sexually assault all female characters, Cheyenne is attacked in a cabin by a bunch of fat guys and Jeremiah saves her. He ties her up and heads back to Starrett. Haddox finds out they are together, and rides out after them. How? No one knows they are together, who told Haddox? Cheyenne has hidden the money, and she and Jeremiah grow closer, bickering and bantering like a bad rom-com, pursued by Haddox.
At one point in the movie, a character spies on two other characters, with binoculars, from the top of a very high cliff. The problem is, when he looks through the binoculars, the director has the binocular point of view from the bottom of the valley on the same line of vision as the two characters getting spied on. The amateurish music score is often so loud, it drowns out dialogue. Hammer smokes a cigar and wears western wear but the costume is too big so he looks like a ten year old playing cowboy. He also holds and smokes his cigar like Sister Mary Catherine of the Perpetual Sorrow discovering her first Pall Mall. Svenson lends some weight to this piece of foul breeze, doing his best with an impossible script. Bobbie Phillips has awfully white teeth for a kept western woman, but her frequent nude scenes might distract you.
"Cheyenne" proves that anyone can make a movie if they have access to a three hundred dollar budget and an all day group pass to Monument Valley. Making a GOOD film is the challenge, and "Cheyenne" fails.
Stats:
(1996) 90 min. (*) out of five stars
-Directed by Dimitri Logothetis
-Written by Frederick Bailey
-Cast: Bobbie Phillips, Gary Hudson, M.C. Hammer, Bo Svenson, Robert Bell, Tobin Bell, Ritchie Montgomery, Cole S. McKay, Dimitri Logothetis, Jay Nethercott, Dennis Burkley, John Diab, Shaun Monson
(R)
M.C. Hammer, his do-rag, and his razor-wielding little person sidekick Razor (Robert Bell) are just a couple of aspects of this awful, inept western.
Cheyenne (Bobbie Phillips) runs away from jerk husband Starrett (Bo Svenson) and takes all his dirty gun-running money with her. Bounty hunter Jeremiah (Gary Hudson) comes to town, is framed for stealing a horse, and almost finds himself swinging from a tree. Starrett makes him a deal- find his wife alive, and he will get a thousand dollars. Jeremiah rides off to look for Cheyenne. Haddox (M.C. Hammer) and Razor arrive for the job, and Starrett makes them the same deal. Why? Starrett has Jeremiah out there, why bring in another bounty hunter? Keeping in the proud modern western film tradition of automatically trying to sexually assault all female characters, Cheyenne is attacked in a cabin by a bunch of fat guys and Jeremiah saves her. He ties her up and heads back to Starrett. Haddox finds out they are together, and rides out after them. How? No one knows they are together, who told Haddox? Cheyenne has hidden the money, and she and Jeremiah grow closer, bickering and bantering like a bad rom-com, pursued by Haddox.
At one point in the movie, a character spies on two other characters, with binoculars, from the top of a very high cliff. The problem is, when he looks through the binoculars, the director has the binocular point of view from the bottom of the valley on the same line of vision as the two characters getting spied on. The amateurish music score is often so loud, it drowns out dialogue. Hammer smokes a cigar and wears western wear but the costume is too big so he looks like a ten year old playing cowboy. He also holds and smokes his cigar like Sister Mary Catherine of the Perpetual Sorrow discovering her first Pall Mall. Svenson lends some weight to this piece of foul breeze, doing his best with an impossible script. Bobbie Phillips has awfully white teeth for a kept western woman, but her frequent nude scenes might distract you.
"Cheyenne" proves that anyone can make a movie if they have access to a three hundred dollar budget and an all day group pass to Monument Valley. Making a GOOD film is the challenge, and "Cheyenne" fails.
Stats:
(1996) 90 min. (*) out of five stars
-Directed by Dimitri Logothetis
-Written by Frederick Bailey
-Cast: Bobbie Phillips, Gary Hudson, M.C. Hammer, Bo Svenson, Robert Bell, Tobin Bell, Ritchie Montgomery, Cole S. McKay, Dimitri Logothetis, Jay Nethercott, Dennis Burkley, John Diab, Shaun Monson
(R)
Cherry Falls (2000)
*Get the film on Amazon here*
"Cherry Falls" boldly struts onto the horror genre stage, bathed in self-importance and confidently carrying the air of "something new," and delivers an unpleasant movie experience.
Brittany Murphy is Jody, a pasty high school student having problems with her horndog boyfriend Kenny (Gabriel Mann). Kenny wants to do it, Jody does not, and the two break up. This occurs the same night another teenage couple are hacked to death. Jody's dad is Sheriff Marken (Michael Biehn), who stoically investigates the killings. After another student is killed, Marken goes to the high schoolers' parents with a tidbit of information- the killer carved the word VIRGIN into the victims, and it seems the victims were, in fact, virgins. This causes a giant uproar, as the students decide the only way to save themselves from the killer is to have sex, and the parents half-heartedly say no. Jody is attacked, and has a sketch done of the killer. The killer is identified as a girl who disappeared from town over two decades before, and suddenly town secrets start rising to the surface as Jody does her own investigating.
This film made me sad. The director went with a bunch of browns and earth tones, the likes of which I have not seen since I last changed my child's diaper. All the students have a pasty look to them. Everyone seems to wear black, and the sheriff and his deputies sport the latest in brown wear. This is depressing to watch. I also came to hate every character in the movie. When watching a slasher film, one should not feel more sympathy for the killer than for the victims. All the adults here are troubled alcoholics who are quick to get into dumb fistfights (the school meeting). All the high schoolers here are stupid, horny potheads who make jokes about the killings. Why bother hoping these people make it until the end of the film? Wright, who somehow went from directing "Romper Stomper" to this mess, gets some real mean murders out of his film. However, he also falls for every cliche you have seen in every other slasher film. From the jump scare to the villain coming back to life one final time, I wanted to throw something at the screen. There is a germ of morbid humor near the end of the film, but it is too little too late.
"Cherry Falls" is bathed in unpleasantness and I thought I was going to need a shower after this. "Cherry Falls" and should have stayed down.
Stats:
(2000) 92 min. (*) out of five stars
-Directed by Geoffrey Wright
-Written by Ken Selden
-Cast: Brittany Murphy, Michael Biehn, Gabriel Mann, Jay Mohr, Candy Clark, Jesse Bradford, Amanda Anka, Joe Inscoe, Natalie Ramsey, Douglas Spain, Bre Blair, Kristen Miller, Michael Weston
(R)
"Cherry Falls" boldly struts onto the horror genre stage, bathed in self-importance and confidently carrying the air of "something new," and delivers an unpleasant movie experience.
Brittany Murphy is Jody, a pasty high school student having problems with her horndog boyfriend Kenny (Gabriel Mann). Kenny wants to do it, Jody does not, and the two break up. This occurs the same night another teenage couple are hacked to death. Jody's dad is Sheriff Marken (Michael Biehn), who stoically investigates the killings. After another student is killed, Marken goes to the high schoolers' parents with a tidbit of information- the killer carved the word VIRGIN into the victims, and it seems the victims were, in fact, virgins. This causes a giant uproar, as the students decide the only way to save themselves from the killer is to have sex, and the parents half-heartedly say no. Jody is attacked, and has a sketch done of the killer. The killer is identified as a girl who disappeared from town over two decades before, and suddenly town secrets start rising to the surface as Jody does her own investigating.
This film made me sad. The director went with a bunch of browns and earth tones, the likes of which I have not seen since I last changed my child's diaper. All the students have a pasty look to them. Everyone seems to wear black, and the sheriff and his deputies sport the latest in brown wear. This is depressing to watch. I also came to hate every character in the movie. When watching a slasher film, one should not feel more sympathy for the killer than for the victims. All the adults here are troubled alcoholics who are quick to get into dumb fistfights (the school meeting). All the high schoolers here are stupid, horny potheads who make jokes about the killings. Why bother hoping these people make it until the end of the film? Wright, who somehow went from directing "Romper Stomper" to this mess, gets some real mean murders out of his film. However, he also falls for every cliche you have seen in every other slasher film. From the jump scare to the villain coming back to life one final time, I wanted to throw something at the screen. There is a germ of morbid humor near the end of the film, but it is too little too late.
"Cherry Falls" is bathed in unpleasantness and I thought I was going to need a shower after this. "Cherry Falls" and should have stayed down.
Stats:
(2000) 92 min. (*) out of five stars
-Directed by Geoffrey Wright
-Written by Ken Selden
-Cast: Brittany Murphy, Michael Biehn, Gabriel Mann, Jay Mohr, Candy Clark, Jesse Bradford, Amanda Anka, Joe Inscoe, Natalie Ramsey, Douglas Spain, Bre Blair, Kristen Miller, Michael Weston
(R)
Chef's Special (2008)
*Get the film on Amazon here*
The most unfortunate thing about “Chef’s Special” is that it is Spanish, and will forever be compared to the work of Pedro Almodovar but Nacho G. Velilla has created a very funny screwball comedy that stands on its own.
Maxi (Javier Camara) is the head chef in a small restaurant. He has a number of people working for him, including the crazed Ramiro (Fernando Tejero), and unlucky-in-love maitre d’ Alex (Lola Duenas). Maxi’s life is nothing but chaos as he tries to hold his crew together. The eatery is bleeding money, and his coworkers all let their flawed personal lives affect their work. A former soccer star, Horacio (Benjamin Vicuna), is moving in across the hall from Maxi, and Alex already has her claws out for him. Amidst the chaos, Maxi gets a call from the hospital. His ex-wife is dying and someone must take care of their children- fifteen year old Edu (Junio Valverde) and six year old Alba (Alejandra Lorenzo). Maxi has no relationship with the kids, but takes them in when their mother passes. Maxi goes on a date with Alex and Horacio, acting as a chaperone- leaving Ramiro babysitting the kids in one of the film’s funniest scenes. Unfortunately, Horacio has eyes for Maxi- he is deep in the closet, being a former professional athlete and now a television sports commentator. Slowly, Maxi’s life keeps unraveling: there are rumors of the Michelin Guide’s representative looking to judge Maxi’s restaurant; Edu is expelled for gay-bashing at his school; Alex can’t seem to let go of Horacio, not knowing he is homosexual; and Maxi must reevaluate his life and priorities concerning new loves and his children.
Velilla’s pace is non-stop, and “Chef’s Special” is a consistent laugh. While some of the humor is too crude, and a few scenes fall flat- I think due to language barriers more than anything, the cast is so likable and so watchable, I cared about them all from the minute the film started. While the final fifteen minutes is predictable, the film still had me, and I shiver to think what an American remake would do to these characters. Velilla’s color palette is very Almodovar-like: colorful and bright. The opening credits and music work really well, and the film looks fantastic. The cast is excellent, everyone seems to be having fun and the screenwriters have given them all plenty to do. I loved Alba questioning all her bedtime stories, Horacio being conflicted by his feelings for Maxi, and especially how Maxi handles Edu’s gay-bashing and expulsion. There are some dark moments here, but they are consistently balanced by some broad physical comedy, and somehow work without weighing the film down or depressing the viewer. Despite the main character being a chef, the film makers wisely do NOT make this movie all about the food as a metaphor. Likewise with the sports angle. Velilla doesn’t hit us over the head with any statements along the lines of “see, life is just like a soccer match!”
"Chef's Special" is a fun, raunchy comedy that reminded me of “La Cage Aux Folles.” While I usually hate to wish for a sequel, I wouldn’t have minded sampling a few more servings of these characters.
Stats:
(2008) 111 min. (* * * *) out of five stars
-Directed by Nacho G. Velilla
-Written by Oriol Capel, David S. Olivas, Antonio Sanchez, Nacho G. Velilla
-Cast: Javier Camara, Lola Duenas, Fernando Tejero, Benjamin Vicuna, Junio Valverde, Alejandra Lorenzo, Chus Lampreave, Luis Varela, Cristina Marcos, Alexandra Jimenez, Mariano Pena, Fernando Albizu, Carlos Leal
(Unrated)
The most unfortunate thing about “Chef’s Special” is that it is Spanish, and will forever be compared to the work of Pedro Almodovar but Nacho G. Velilla has created a very funny screwball comedy that stands on its own.
Maxi (Javier Camara) is the head chef in a small restaurant. He has a number of people working for him, including the crazed Ramiro (Fernando Tejero), and unlucky-in-love maitre d’ Alex (Lola Duenas). Maxi’s life is nothing but chaos as he tries to hold his crew together. The eatery is bleeding money, and his coworkers all let their flawed personal lives affect their work. A former soccer star, Horacio (Benjamin Vicuna), is moving in across the hall from Maxi, and Alex already has her claws out for him. Amidst the chaos, Maxi gets a call from the hospital. His ex-wife is dying and someone must take care of their children- fifteen year old Edu (Junio Valverde) and six year old Alba (Alejandra Lorenzo). Maxi has no relationship with the kids, but takes them in when their mother passes. Maxi goes on a date with Alex and Horacio, acting as a chaperone- leaving Ramiro babysitting the kids in one of the film’s funniest scenes. Unfortunately, Horacio has eyes for Maxi- he is deep in the closet, being a former professional athlete and now a television sports commentator. Slowly, Maxi’s life keeps unraveling: there are rumors of the Michelin Guide’s representative looking to judge Maxi’s restaurant; Edu is expelled for gay-bashing at his school; Alex can’t seem to let go of Horacio, not knowing he is homosexual; and Maxi must reevaluate his life and priorities concerning new loves and his children.
Velilla’s pace is non-stop, and “Chef’s Special” is a consistent laugh. While some of the humor is too crude, and a few scenes fall flat- I think due to language barriers more than anything, the cast is so likable and so watchable, I cared about them all from the minute the film started. While the final fifteen minutes is predictable, the film still had me, and I shiver to think what an American remake would do to these characters. Velilla’s color palette is very Almodovar-like: colorful and bright. The opening credits and music work really well, and the film looks fantastic. The cast is excellent, everyone seems to be having fun and the screenwriters have given them all plenty to do. I loved Alba questioning all her bedtime stories, Horacio being conflicted by his feelings for Maxi, and especially how Maxi handles Edu’s gay-bashing and expulsion. There are some dark moments here, but they are consistently balanced by some broad physical comedy, and somehow work without weighing the film down or depressing the viewer. Despite the main character being a chef, the film makers wisely do NOT make this movie all about the food as a metaphor. Likewise with the sports angle. Velilla doesn’t hit us over the head with any statements along the lines of “see, life is just like a soccer match!”
"Chef's Special" is a fun, raunchy comedy that reminded me of “La Cage Aux Folles.” While I usually hate to wish for a sequel, I wouldn’t have minded sampling a few more servings of these characters.
Stats:
(2008) 111 min. (* * * *) out of five stars
-Directed by Nacho G. Velilla
-Written by Oriol Capel, David S. Olivas, Antonio Sanchez, Nacho G. Velilla
-Cast: Javier Camara, Lola Duenas, Fernando Tejero, Benjamin Vicuna, Junio Valverde, Alejandra Lorenzo, Chus Lampreave, Luis Varela, Cristina Marcos, Alexandra Jimenez, Mariano Pena, Fernando Albizu, Carlos Leal
(Unrated)
Chasers (1994)
*Get the film on Amazon here*
It is always easy to judge a comedy. A good one makes you laugh, a bad one does not. This is a bad comedy.
William McNamara plays Navy dude Eddie Devane who is celebrating his impending discharge. He has paid for a Porsche with money he has been stealing from the Navy by selling things on the black market with the help of his neurotic friend Howard (Crispin Glover). In one of those unbelievable plot developments, Eddie is sent to help hard-as-a-rock Rock Reilly (Tom Berenger) retrieve a dangerous prisoner named Tony Johnson and bring him back to base to be flown out to his permanent incarceration in California. The duo must drive through the Carolinas to do this, resulting in madcap Southern stereotypes. The bickering couple get to the Marine prison, but lo-and-behold, he is a she! Boing! She is hot TonI (Erika Eleniak), not TonY! Wah-wah-wah! I hope the trip back goes as smoothly as every other trip Rock has gone on!
Dennis Hopper could not stage a comedic scene to save his life, he had no idea how to direct physical comedy. There's a tampons-in-the-gas-tank scene that is awkward and obvious. A truck stop escape scene has Toni in a bad wig associating with Eddie and Rock, who have no earthly idea who she is. She looks the exact same, she is not Lon Chaney. While Hopper is having technical problems, the real fault here lies with the screenwriters- all the characters are stupid. All of them. The Navy and Marines have some weird inter-military rivalry- my dad was in the Air Force but we never got into fisticuffs with Army brats, the Carolinians are of the "Deliverance" variety, the women are sexual objects, and the men are bitter drunks and wackos. McNamara is baby faced in a part obviously inspired by all of Tom Cruise's roles. Tom Berenger sounds like Nick Nolte in "48HRS," and a change in his character is forced and unbelievable. Eleniak plays Toni as sympathetic, but I kept asking myself why she was set on escaping all the time. Sure, no one wants to serve time in prison, but I thought that reason was secondary to some big climactic confession that never comes about. Hopper populates this nightmare with tons of character actors in bit and cameo parts. Watch for Marilu Henner and actual Oscar nominees try to add a wackiness to the film that is not there. Hopper's own cameo, with a fake nose that makes him look like Karl Malden, is as funny as a rectal exam. "Chasers" can recall "The Last Detail," mirroring the basic plot but nothing more. This film lurches from scene to scene, never giving the audience anyone to like. Even Eleniak's topless scene is anticlimactic, offering us the same thing we (or, at least, I) have seen in the pages of Playboy or online.
A bad comedy contains no laughs, and I literally did not laugh once. Do not pursue "Chasers."
Stats:
(1994) 102 min. (*) out of five stars
-Directed by Dennis Hopper
-Screenplay by Joe Batteer & John Rice, Story by Joe Batteer & John Rice and Dan Gilroy
-Cast: Tom Berenger, Erika Eleniak, William McNamara, Crispin Glover, Matthew Glave, Grand L. Bush, Dean Stockwell, Bitty Schram, Gary Busey, Seymour Cassel, Frederic Forrest, Marilu Henner, Dennis Hopper
(R)
It is always easy to judge a comedy. A good one makes you laugh, a bad one does not. This is a bad comedy.
William McNamara plays Navy dude Eddie Devane who is celebrating his impending discharge. He has paid for a Porsche with money he has been stealing from the Navy by selling things on the black market with the help of his neurotic friend Howard (Crispin Glover). In one of those unbelievable plot developments, Eddie is sent to help hard-as-a-rock Rock Reilly (Tom Berenger) retrieve a dangerous prisoner named Tony Johnson and bring him back to base to be flown out to his permanent incarceration in California. The duo must drive through the Carolinas to do this, resulting in madcap Southern stereotypes. The bickering couple get to the Marine prison, but lo-and-behold, he is a she! Boing! She is hot TonI (Erika Eleniak), not TonY! Wah-wah-wah! I hope the trip back goes as smoothly as every other trip Rock has gone on!
Dennis Hopper could not stage a comedic scene to save his life, he had no idea how to direct physical comedy. There's a tampons-in-the-gas-tank scene that is awkward and obvious. A truck stop escape scene has Toni in a bad wig associating with Eddie and Rock, who have no earthly idea who she is. She looks the exact same, she is not Lon Chaney. While Hopper is having technical problems, the real fault here lies with the screenwriters- all the characters are stupid. All of them. The Navy and Marines have some weird inter-military rivalry- my dad was in the Air Force but we never got into fisticuffs with Army brats, the Carolinians are of the "Deliverance" variety, the women are sexual objects, and the men are bitter drunks and wackos. McNamara is baby faced in a part obviously inspired by all of Tom Cruise's roles. Tom Berenger sounds like Nick Nolte in "48HRS," and a change in his character is forced and unbelievable. Eleniak plays Toni as sympathetic, but I kept asking myself why she was set on escaping all the time. Sure, no one wants to serve time in prison, but I thought that reason was secondary to some big climactic confession that never comes about. Hopper populates this nightmare with tons of character actors in bit and cameo parts. Watch for Marilu Henner and actual Oscar nominees try to add a wackiness to the film that is not there. Hopper's own cameo, with a fake nose that makes him look like Karl Malden, is as funny as a rectal exam. "Chasers" can recall "The Last Detail," mirroring the basic plot but nothing more. This film lurches from scene to scene, never giving the audience anyone to like. Even Eleniak's topless scene is anticlimactic, offering us the same thing we (or, at least, I) have seen in the pages of Playboy or online.
A bad comedy contains no laughs, and I literally did not laugh once. Do not pursue "Chasers."
Stats:
(1994) 102 min. (*) out of five stars
-Directed by Dennis Hopper
-Screenplay by Joe Batteer & John Rice, Story by Joe Batteer & John Rice and Dan Gilroy
-Cast: Tom Berenger, Erika Eleniak, William McNamara, Crispin Glover, Matthew Glave, Grand L. Bush, Dean Stockwell, Bitty Schram, Gary Busey, Seymour Cassel, Frederic Forrest, Marilu Henner, Dennis Hopper
(R)
Charro! (1969)
*Get the film on Amazon here*
Elvis Presley proves he does not have to appear in a musical to make a crappy film.
Elvis is Jess Wade- which sounds like Just Suede if you say it fast, a former member of an outlaw gang headed by Vince (Victor French). Wade left the gang to mine gold, and took Vince's girl Tracey (Ina Balin) with him. Tracey left, the mine did not pan out, and Vince has stolen a giant gold and silver encrusted cannon from the Mexican government. One of the outlaws, now dead, is identified by a neck wound. Vince gets the idea to pay Wade back by giving him an identical neck wound, taking the heat off the outlaws. Wade heads to the nearest town, where the man who raised him happens to be sheriff, and Tracey happens to run the saloon there. The outlaws happen to camp outside the same town, and Vince realizes his giant pretty cannon makes for an excellent bargaining chip.
Actually, the plot is the most entertaining part of the film. I could picture a remake, full of exciting action pieces and cowboys using their brains to outsmart each other. I beg for a remake because this film is so bad. Charles Marquis Warren's experience is in television, and it shows. He uses a dissolve-to-black constantly throughout the film, as if saving a spot for commercials. The problem is they come at the wrong time, every time. There will be a dissolve, then the next scene begins usually taking place within seconds of the dissolved scene. The pace of the film is off, actors pause in between each other's dialogue as if they cannot remember their lines. Presley is at a complete loss here. There are no songs to sing, no Capri-panted chicks to chase, so he delivers his words in his familiar monotone, reading them all with much too much seriousness. The one funny scene, when he slams a man's head into a jail bar, is turned depressing by the King. Victor French acts circles around him, and takes over the film. Ina Balin is gorgeous, and does the closest thing to a nude scene ever done in an Elvis picture, but her character is so badly written it is embarrassing. The film's musical score, save the lousy opening credits song sung by Elvis, sounds eerily like the score to "Plan Nine from Outer Space." For a decent Elvis western, find and treasure "Flaming Star."
"Charro!" is infamous for its ineptitude, and deserves the discredit.
Stats:
(1969) 98 min. (*) out of five stars
-Directed by Charles Marquis Warren
-Screenplay by Charles Marquis Warren, Story by Frederick Louis Fox
-Cast: Elvis Presley, Ina Balin, Victor French, Solomon Sturges, Barbara Werle, Lynn Kellogg, James Sikking, Paul Brinegar, Harry Landers, Tony Young, James Almanzar, Charles H. Gray, John Pickard
(PG)
Elvis Presley proves he does not have to appear in a musical to make a crappy film.
Elvis is Jess Wade- which sounds like Just Suede if you say it fast, a former member of an outlaw gang headed by Vince (Victor French). Wade left the gang to mine gold, and took Vince's girl Tracey (Ina Balin) with him. Tracey left, the mine did not pan out, and Vince has stolen a giant gold and silver encrusted cannon from the Mexican government. One of the outlaws, now dead, is identified by a neck wound. Vince gets the idea to pay Wade back by giving him an identical neck wound, taking the heat off the outlaws. Wade heads to the nearest town, where the man who raised him happens to be sheriff, and Tracey happens to run the saloon there. The outlaws happen to camp outside the same town, and Vince realizes his giant pretty cannon makes for an excellent bargaining chip.
Actually, the plot is the most entertaining part of the film. I could picture a remake, full of exciting action pieces and cowboys using their brains to outsmart each other. I beg for a remake because this film is so bad. Charles Marquis Warren's experience is in television, and it shows. He uses a dissolve-to-black constantly throughout the film, as if saving a spot for commercials. The problem is they come at the wrong time, every time. There will be a dissolve, then the next scene begins usually taking place within seconds of the dissolved scene. The pace of the film is off, actors pause in between each other's dialogue as if they cannot remember their lines. Presley is at a complete loss here. There are no songs to sing, no Capri-panted chicks to chase, so he delivers his words in his familiar monotone, reading them all with much too much seriousness. The one funny scene, when he slams a man's head into a jail bar, is turned depressing by the King. Victor French acts circles around him, and takes over the film. Ina Balin is gorgeous, and does the closest thing to a nude scene ever done in an Elvis picture, but her character is so badly written it is embarrassing. The film's musical score, save the lousy opening credits song sung by Elvis, sounds eerily like the score to "Plan Nine from Outer Space." For a decent Elvis western, find and treasure "Flaming Star."
"Charro!" is infamous for its ineptitude, and deserves the discredit.
Stats:
(1969) 98 min. (*) out of five stars
-Directed by Charles Marquis Warren
-Screenplay by Charles Marquis Warren, Story by Frederick Louis Fox
-Cast: Elvis Presley, Ina Balin, Victor French, Solomon Sturges, Barbara Werle, Lynn Kellogg, James Sikking, Paul Brinegar, Harry Landers, Tony Young, James Almanzar, Charles H. Gray, John Pickard
(PG)
Tuesday, February 25, 2025
Chamber of Horrors (1940)
*Get the film on Amazon here*
This very British film is based on the novel "The Door With Seven Locks" by Edgar Wallace, and despite its title, it is more mystery than horror.
An eccentric lord dies and leaves everything to his young son. The family fortune is locked in the tomb with him, behind a door with seven locks. The keys are entrusted to the lawyer Havelock (David Horne), but if anything happens to the lord's son, pretty relation June (Lilli Palmer) inherits everything. Ten years later, June is summoned by a dying man, and given one of the keys. The man is murdered, and June goes to the police. She meets the just-retired detective Martin (Romilly Lunge) and his partner Sneed (Richard Bird), and they discover Havelock's office has been infiltrated and the keys are missing. The group, along with June's comic relief Aunt Glenda (a sometimes funny Gina Malo) go to the old mansion, where the weird Dr. Manetta (Leslie Banks) is now residing. Soon, clues start piling up, more murders occur, and Martin is hot on the case, and hot for June.
There are tons of plot twists that I cannot go into. There are almost a half dozen supporting characters that I could name, but won't. To be honest, the plot and acting is goofball. Martin is just too cool, and June is so dang perky. Glenda's desperation for a man is often funny, as is Sneed's inability to stay awake for long periods of time. Manetta makes quite the villain, a descendant of the Spanish Inquisitor Torquemada, and a collector of vintage instruments of torture. The action sequences have all the violence and gore of me and my little brothers wrestling in the den when we were kids. Lee's direction is standard, save a great use of close-ups during a fight scene between Martin and a major character that involves an iron maiden. It is all so standard, and silly, but I am going to recommend it. Why? This is the perfect example of the type of film "they just don't make anymore." The suave heroic detective- former detective in this case, the beautiful damsel in distress, the comic relief supporting players, the mad villain, the creepy supporting villains fighting amongst themselves, and a scary old mansion and cemetery- it all somehow works. While I figured out most of the surprises before Martin and June did, I still had a ball watching the plot play out. Today, cops are tortured souls, seeing the grimy side of life.
"Chamber of Horrors" is not a great film, but it is good. If your idea of fun is to curl up with an Agatha Christie or Ngaio Marsh (or in this case, Edgar Wallace) mystery on a rainy day, this film would be for you. Better known by its original title "The Door With Seven Locks."
Stats:
(1940) 79 min. (* * * 1/2) out of five stars
-Directed by Norman Lee
-Screenplay by Norman Lee and Gilbert Gunn, Treatment by Jon Argyle based on the novel by Edgar Wallace
-Cast: Leslie Banks, Lilli Palmer, Romily Lunge, Gina Malo, Richard Bird, David Horne, J.H. Roberts, Cathleen Nesbitt, Harry Hutchinson, Philip Ray, Robert Montgomery, Aubrey Mallalieu, Ross Landon
(Not Rated)
This very British film is based on the novel "The Door With Seven Locks" by Edgar Wallace, and despite its title, it is more mystery than horror.
An eccentric lord dies and leaves everything to his young son. The family fortune is locked in the tomb with him, behind a door with seven locks. The keys are entrusted to the lawyer Havelock (David Horne), but if anything happens to the lord's son, pretty relation June (Lilli Palmer) inherits everything. Ten years later, June is summoned by a dying man, and given one of the keys. The man is murdered, and June goes to the police. She meets the just-retired detective Martin (Romilly Lunge) and his partner Sneed (Richard Bird), and they discover Havelock's office has been infiltrated and the keys are missing. The group, along with June's comic relief Aunt Glenda (a sometimes funny Gina Malo) go to the old mansion, where the weird Dr. Manetta (Leslie Banks) is now residing. Soon, clues start piling up, more murders occur, and Martin is hot on the case, and hot for June.
There are tons of plot twists that I cannot go into. There are almost a half dozen supporting characters that I could name, but won't. To be honest, the plot and acting is goofball. Martin is just too cool, and June is so dang perky. Glenda's desperation for a man is often funny, as is Sneed's inability to stay awake for long periods of time. Manetta makes quite the villain, a descendant of the Spanish Inquisitor Torquemada, and a collector of vintage instruments of torture. The action sequences have all the violence and gore of me and my little brothers wrestling in the den when we were kids. Lee's direction is standard, save a great use of close-ups during a fight scene between Martin and a major character that involves an iron maiden. It is all so standard, and silly, but I am going to recommend it. Why? This is the perfect example of the type of film "they just don't make anymore." The suave heroic detective- former detective in this case, the beautiful damsel in distress, the comic relief supporting players, the mad villain, the creepy supporting villains fighting amongst themselves, and a scary old mansion and cemetery- it all somehow works. While I figured out most of the surprises before Martin and June did, I still had a ball watching the plot play out. Today, cops are tortured souls, seeing the grimy side of life.
"Chamber of Horrors" is not a great film, but it is good. If your idea of fun is to curl up with an Agatha Christie or Ngaio Marsh (or in this case, Edgar Wallace) mystery on a rainy day, this film would be for you. Better known by its original title "The Door With Seven Locks."
Stats:
(1940) 79 min. (* * * 1/2) out of five stars
-Directed by Norman Lee
-Screenplay by Norman Lee and Gilbert Gunn, Treatment by Jon Argyle based on the novel by Edgar Wallace
-Cast: Leslie Banks, Lilli Palmer, Romily Lunge, Gina Malo, Richard Bird, David Horne, J.H. Roberts, Cathleen Nesbitt, Harry Hutchinson, Philip Ray, Robert Montgomery, Aubrey Mallalieu, Ross Landon
(Not Rated)
The Chain (1996)
*Watch the film on Amazon Prime Video here*
Gary Busey, who had appeared in exactly one good movie ("The Buddy Holly Story") in his life, huffs and puffs through a Filipino jungle, chained to his arch enemy, and making the viewer wistful for "The Defiant Ones"...or even "Deadlock 2."
Frank (Gary Busey) is a Boston cop obsessed with capturing gunrunner Carlos (Victor Rivers- think Antonio Banderas with John Waters' mustache), who is always two steps ahead of Frank. Frank and his angry wife Ellen (Jamie Rose) fly to the South American city of Vera Cruz to vacation and save their marriage...I know, I know, more on the Filipino geography mystery later. Frank is in Vera Cruz to track Carlos, and Ellen has had enough. She takes up with a rico suave stranger in the hotel bar while Frank is roughed up and then fired from the police force over the phone. Ellen gets cold feet and rejects the rico suave who turns out to be Carlos (gasp!). Frank follows Carlos and the two men are captured during one of their many fights. The duo are transported to the ominous Los Muerto prison camp, where the evil commander Zalir (Craig Judd) chains our moaning heroes together, and then decides to execute them. They are saved in the nick of time by a rebel attack and escape into the jungle, bickering and chained together. Ellen finally heads to the U.S. Embassy, worried, and meets with the ambassador and a mysterious CIA man, but don't fret, this subplot is never pursued, and we don't see Ellen again until the end of the film.
I am not sure what writer/director Luca Bercovici was trying to accomplish. From the opening scene involving Frank and his partner (Bercovici) dressed like clowns to bust the gunrunner, to Frank and Carlos' constant arguing, to the disastrously unfunny one-liners, any light or humorous touch attempted fails miserably. Frank is a jerk, and Carlos a murdering gunrunner, so I could not care less if they got out of that jungle alive or not. It should have been simple to escape, since many a shot shows that Busey's iron hand cuff could be slipped out of easily. About that jungle: the video box places the story in South America. All of the place names and most of the native characters' names are Spanish. Yet, the film was shot in the Philippines, using obviously local actors. The story is so boring and badly done, I tried instead to figure out just where all of this was happening. By the time Frank heals a sick child (Dennis Caparas) by creepily whispering in his ear, I deemed the whole mess unwatchable.
While this was released in the late 1990's, it looks and plays like a lousy buddy movie from the 1980's. This chain should be broken.
Stats:
(1996) 96 min. (*) out of five stars
-Directed by Luca Bercovici
-Screenplay by Luca Bercovici & Sam Bernard, Story by Luca Bercovici & Sam Bernard & Jefery Levy
-Cast: Gary Busey, Victor Rivers, Jamie Rose, Craig Judd, Luca Bercovici, Ken Metcalfe, Rez Cortez, Joonee Gamboa, Ace Cruz, Daniel Figueroa, Natan Zahavi, Tiani Warden, Tony Halbert
(R)
Gary Busey, who had appeared in exactly one good movie ("The Buddy Holly Story") in his life, huffs and puffs through a Filipino jungle, chained to his arch enemy, and making the viewer wistful for "The Defiant Ones"...or even "Deadlock 2."
Frank (Gary Busey) is a Boston cop obsessed with capturing gunrunner Carlos (Victor Rivers- think Antonio Banderas with John Waters' mustache), who is always two steps ahead of Frank. Frank and his angry wife Ellen (Jamie Rose) fly to the South American city of Vera Cruz to vacation and save their marriage...I know, I know, more on the Filipino geography mystery later. Frank is in Vera Cruz to track Carlos, and Ellen has had enough. She takes up with a rico suave stranger in the hotel bar while Frank is roughed up and then fired from the police force over the phone. Ellen gets cold feet and rejects the rico suave who turns out to be Carlos (gasp!). Frank follows Carlos and the two men are captured during one of their many fights. The duo are transported to the ominous Los Muerto prison camp, where the evil commander Zalir (Craig Judd) chains our moaning heroes together, and then decides to execute them. They are saved in the nick of time by a rebel attack and escape into the jungle, bickering and chained together. Ellen finally heads to the U.S. Embassy, worried, and meets with the ambassador and a mysterious CIA man, but don't fret, this subplot is never pursued, and we don't see Ellen again until the end of the film.
I am not sure what writer/director Luca Bercovici was trying to accomplish. From the opening scene involving Frank and his partner (Bercovici) dressed like clowns to bust the gunrunner, to Frank and Carlos' constant arguing, to the disastrously unfunny one-liners, any light or humorous touch attempted fails miserably. Frank is a jerk, and Carlos a murdering gunrunner, so I could not care less if they got out of that jungle alive or not. It should have been simple to escape, since many a shot shows that Busey's iron hand cuff could be slipped out of easily. About that jungle: the video box places the story in South America. All of the place names and most of the native characters' names are Spanish. Yet, the film was shot in the Philippines, using obviously local actors. The story is so boring and badly done, I tried instead to figure out just where all of this was happening. By the time Frank heals a sick child (Dennis Caparas) by creepily whispering in his ear, I deemed the whole mess unwatchable.
While this was released in the late 1990's, it looks and plays like a lousy buddy movie from the 1980's. This chain should be broken.
Stats:
(1996) 96 min. (*) out of five stars
-Directed by Luca Bercovici
-Screenplay by Luca Bercovici & Sam Bernard, Story by Luca Bercovici & Sam Bernard & Jefery Levy
-Cast: Gary Busey, Victor Rivers, Jamie Rose, Craig Judd, Luca Bercovici, Ken Metcalfe, Rez Cortez, Joonee Gamboa, Ace Cruz, Daniel Figueroa, Natan Zahavi, Tiani Warden, Tony Halbert
(R)
Sunday, February 23, 2025
Meteor (1979)
*Get the film on Amazon here*
If Hollywood award gold is your benchmark for excellence in cinema, "Meteor" should have been one of the greatest films of all-time. The first nine credited cast members were all Oscar and Emmy nominees and winners sometime in their careers before and after the movie's release, with more golden talent further down in the cast list, credited and uncredited. Likewise with the director, screenwriters, soundtrack composer, cinematographer, editor, production designer, set decorator, and costume designer. It was nominated for an Oscar itself for Best Sound- the film's only nomination for any award from any awards group (getting beat by "Apocalypse Now"). However, the film craters thanks to an uninterested cast, hilarious special effects, screenplay padding, and its arrival a few years too late in the cooling disaster film subgenre.
Paul Bradley (a terminally angry Sean Connery) is called back in to his former employer NASA. A giant meteor is headed for Earth, arriving in six days. Paul was involved with the installation of nuclear missiles in space to thwart such a situation that will never happen, so instead the United States pointed the missles at those Commies in the U.S.S.R. As luck would have it, the Russians had their own system, and likewise pointed theirs at the United States. Neither country has the necessary firepower to destroy the meteor, but if we can just work together (any Cold War kid/Generation Xer remember détente?) we can defeat a common enemy and save this crazy screwed-up planet!
There's a germ of a good idea, copied many times later for straight-to-video and basic cable television pablum. A little online reading shows that some of the special effects companies involved were hired and fired, with the budget shrinking each time. I give plenty of leeway when it comes to special effects from the films and television of my childhood, but I couldn't help but shake my head at a lot of this. The production company was American-International Pictures, a studio known for its low budgets. It looks like their money was spent entirely on the cast. Natalie Wood doesn't appear until a third of the way through the picture but is involved in the best scene featuring duelling Russian translators. For a big piece of rock traveling at 30,000 miles per hour, this is one slow moving meteor. The nuclear missiles also move at a snail's pace, adding a few precious minutes to the running time. The underground command center looks like something out of a Bond film, disconcerting when you consider the film's lead. There's an argument during a Cabinet meeting that had me muttering "you can't fight in here, this is the war room!" as Landau portrays a typical Hollywood unhinged military officer, more concerned with the Russkies finding out about our missiles than trying to save the planet. Speaking of typical Hollywood unhinged military officers, a surprising amount of supporting cast members also guested on the television series "M*A*S*H," a show whose episodes I have seen many times over thanks to syndicated blocks of programming on over-the-air stations.
Like the previous year's "Avalanche," "Meteor" comes at the end of the disaster film cycle, which gave us classics like "The Poseidon Adventure," "Airport," and "The Towering Inferno," and the genre was skewered a year later by "Airplane!" The Best Sound Oscar nomination was a surprise, but considering the Special Visual Effects Academy Awards nominees for that year, there was no way "Meteor" was going to score anything else- Visual Effects winner "Alien," and nominees "The Black Hole," "Moonraker," "1941," and "Star Trek: The Motion Picture."
I remember wanting to see "Meteor" when it was released (I was eleven and already a rabid film fan, recognizing most of the cast names), and then when it appeared again on HBO. I never seemed to see it, not even clips, so watching it on a streaming service was a bittersweet nostalgia.
Stats:
(1979) 108 min. (*) out of five stars
-Directed by Ronald Neame
-Screenplay by Stanley Mann & Edmund H. North, Story by Edmund H. North
-Cast: Sean Connery, Natalie Wood, Karl Malden, Brian Keith, Martin Landau, Trevor Howard, Richard Dysart, Henry Fonda, Joe Campanella, Bibi Besch, Clyde Kusatsu, Peter Donat, Sybil Danning, Philip Sterling, Johnny Yune, Roy Edward Disney, John Spencer
(PG)- Contains physical violence, mild gore, profanity, alcohol use
*Academy Awards*
-Best Sound (lost to "Apocalypse Now")
If Hollywood award gold is your benchmark for excellence in cinema, "Meteor" should have been one of the greatest films of all-time. The first nine credited cast members were all Oscar and Emmy nominees and winners sometime in their careers before and after the movie's release, with more golden talent further down in the cast list, credited and uncredited. Likewise with the director, screenwriters, soundtrack composer, cinematographer, editor, production designer, set decorator, and costume designer. It was nominated for an Oscar itself for Best Sound- the film's only nomination for any award from any awards group (getting beat by "Apocalypse Now"). However, the film craters thanks to an uninterested cast, hilarious special effects, screenplay padding, and its arrival a few years too late in the cooling disaster film subgenre.
Paul Bradley (a terminally angry Sean Connery) is called back in to his former employer NASA. A giant meteor is headed for Earth, arriving in six days. Paul was involved with the installation of nuclear missiles in space to thwart such a situation that will never happen, so instead the United States pointed the missles at those Commies in the U.S.S.R. As luck would have it, the Russians had their own system, and likewise pointed theirs at the United States. Neither country has the necessary firepower to destroy the meteor, but if we can just work together (any Cold War kid/Generation Xer remember détente?) we can defeat a common enemy and save this crazy screwed-up planet!
There's a germ of a good idea, copied many times later for straight-to-video and basic cable television pablum. A little online reading shows that some of the special effects companies involved were hired and fired, with the budget shrinking each time. I give plenty of leeway when it comes to special effects from the films and television of my childhood, but I couldn't help but shake my head at a lot of this. The production company was American-International Pictures, a studio known for its low budgets. It looks like their money was spent entirely on the cast. Natalie Wood doesn't appear until a third of the way through the picture but is involved in the best scene featuring duelling Russian translators. For a big piece of rock traveling at 30,000 miles per hour, this is one slow moving meteor. The nuclear missiles also move at a snail's pace, adding a few precious minutes to the running time. The underground command center looks like something out of a Bond film, disconcerting when you consider the film's lead. There's an argument during a Cabinet meeting that had me muttering "you can't fight in here, this is the war room!" as Landau portrays a typical Hollywood unhinged military officer, more concerned with the Russkies finding out about our missiles than trying to save the planet. Speaking of typical Hollywood unhinged military officers, a surprising amount of supporting cast members also guested on the television series "M*A*S*H," a show whose episodes I have seen many times over thanks to syndicated blocks of programming on over-the-air stations.
Like the previous year's "Avalanche," "Meteor" comes at the end of the disaster film cycle, which gave us classics like "The Poseidon Adventure," "Airport," and "The Towering Inferno," and the genre was skewered a year later by "Airplane!" The Best Sound Oscar nomination was a surprise, but considering the Special Visual Effects Academy Awards nominees for that year, there was no way "Meteor" was going to score anything else- Visual Effects winner "Alien," and nominees "The Black Hole," "Moonraker," "1941," and "Star Trek: The Motion Picture."
I remember wanting to see "Meteor" when it was released (I was eleven and already a rabid film fan, recognizing most of the cast names), and then when it appeared again on HBO. I never seemed to see it, not even clips, so watching it on a streaming service was a bittersweet nostalgia.
Stats:
(1979) 108 min. (*) out of five stars
-Directed by Ronald Neame
-Screenplay by Stanley Mann & Edmund H. North, Story by Edmund H. North
-Cast: Sean Connery, Natalie Wood, Karl Malden, Brian Keith, Martin Landau, Trevor Howard, Richard Dysart, Henry Fonda, Joe Campanella, Bibi Besch, Clyde Kusatsu, Peter Donat, Sybil Danning, Philip Sterling, Johnny Yune, Roy Edward Disney, John Spencer
(PG)- Contains physical violence, mild gore, profanity, alcohol use
*Academy Awards*
-Best Sound (lost to "Apocalypse Now")
Saturday, February 22, 2025
The Center of the World (2001)
*Get the film on Amazon here*
Although more infamous for its sex scenes than its acting and direction, Wayne Wang does marvels with a digital camera and his actors in a very good independent film.
Richard (Peter Sarsgaard) is a young computer genius worth a million or so who takes a liking to Florence (Molly Parker). They decide to take a trip to Las Vegas together, with Richard paying for everything, and some harsh guidelines set up by Florence: no kissing on the mouth, together for just four hours every night, and no actual sexual relations. Goofy Richard goes along with the demands, and the two skip town to Vegas. Richard is skipping more than just town, his computer business is about to go IPO, and his partner can not seem to get a hold of him. Florence and Richard settle into a routine, and try to get to know each other after being so intimate physically. Richard's love for Florence is obvious, but slowly Florence begins to have feelings for Richard that are not of the usual prostitute/John type. Jerri (Carla Gugino), one of Florence's screwed-up friends, notices a change in Florence when she is with Richard. Eventually, the couple begin breaking their rules, and this brings out everyone's true colors on the future of the relationship.
The title of the film is interesting in that Richard thinks the center of the world is his computer, and Florence thinks it is a female's physical sexuality. In the film, Florence's definition seems to be decided on, with Richard using his Center (moneywise) to get to her Center. The film treads through the familiar sexual obsession territory, but without going to the lengths that have been touched on in dozens of late night Showtime and Cinemax series and made-for-cable fodder. Richard is a genuine babe in the woods, trying to project a dangerous side, when in fact he is a nice guy who wants to help people. Try and keep track of how many times he asks Florence and others if they are okay or all right. Florence is a great character, unable to contain her growing emotional attachment, so she uses her own body as a wall to Richard's love. You find yourself wishing these two screwed up people would get it together. If anything, I sometimes found the sex got in the way of the plot. Both people share innocuous stories from their past, then follow through with kinky sexual acts, but I got more from the stories. Wang does a great job with the digital camera. He is respectful of his actors, not getting into everyone's face because he has the technology to, but he stays close enough to give the audience a voyeuristic feel in the hotel room scenes. While some scenes run long here and there, I found the two main characters so different and so interesting, I did not mind the slow spots. There is a lot of sex and nudity here, but only one very brief (and controversial) scene set in a strip club that constitutes anything you would see in an adult film.
"The Center of the World" is less than an hour and a half long, but speaks volumes about its characters. I enjoyed it more than I thought I would, I am still smarting from sitting through Wang's "Chan is Missing," one of the most dull, over-celebrated, and pointless films ever made. He has come a long way, and I recommend this effort.
Stats:
(2001) 88 min. (* * * *) out of five stars
-Directed by Wayne Wang
-Screenplay by Ellen Benjamin Wong, Story by Wayne Wang & Miranda July and Paul Auster & Siri Hustvedt
-Cast: Peter Sarsgaard, Molly Parker, Shane Edelman, Carla Gugino, Balthazar Getty, Maryjane Green, Alisha Klass, Mel Gorham, Pat Morita, Lisa Newlan, Ian Gomez, Jason McCabe, Travis Miljan
(Unrated)
Although more infamous for its sex scenes than its acting and direction, Wayne Wang does marvels with a digital camera and his actors in a very good independent film.
Richard (Peter Sarsgaard) is a young computer genius worth a million or so who takes a liking to Florence (Molly Parker). They decide to take a trip to Las Vegas together, with Richard paying for everything, and some harsh guidelines set up by Florence: no kissing on the mouth, together for just four hours every night, and no actual sexual relations. Goofy Richard goes along with the demands, and the two skip town to Vegas. Richard is skipping more than just town, his computer business is about to go IPO, and his partner can not seem to get a hold of him. Florence and Richard settle into a routine, and try to get to know each other after being so intimate physically. Richard's love for Florence is obvious, but slowly Florence begins to have feelings for Richard that are not of the usual prostitute/John type. Jerri (Carla Gugino), one of Florence's screwed-up friends, notices a change in Florence when she is with Richard. Eventually, the couple begin breaking their rules, and this brings out everyone's true colors on the future of the relationship.
The title of the film is interesting in that Richard thinks the center of the world is his computer, and Florence thinks it is a female's physical sexuality. In the film, Florence's definition seems to be decided on, with Richard using his Center (moneywise) to get to her Center. The film treads through the familiar sexual obsession territory, but without going to the lengths that have been touched on in dozens of late night Showtime and Cinemax series and made-for-cable fodder. Richard is a genuine babe in the woods, trying to project a dangerous side, when in fact he is a nice guy who wants to help people. Try and keep track of how many times he asks Florence and others if they are okay or all right. Florence is a great character, unable to contain her growing emotional attachment, so she uses her own body as a wall to Richard's love. You find yourself wishing these two screwed up people would get it together. If anything, I sometimes found the sex got in the way of the plot. Both people share innocuous stories from their past, then follow through with kinky sexual acts, but I got more from the stories. Wang does a great job with the digital camera. He is respectful of his actors, not getting into everyone's face because he has the technology to, but he stays close enough to give the audience a voyeuristic feel in the hotel room scenes. While some scenes run long here and there, I found the two main characters so different and so interesting, I did not mind the slow spots. There is a lot of sex and nudity here, but only one very brief (and controversial) scene set in a strip club that constitutes anything you would see in an adult film.
"The Center of the World" is less than an hour and a half long, but speaks volumes about its characters. I enjoyed it more than I thought I would, I am still smarting from sitting through Wang's "Chan is Missing," one of the most dull, over-celebrated, and pointless films ever made. He has come a long way, and I recommend this effort.
Stats:
(2001) 88 min. (* * * *) out of five stars
-Directed by Wayne Wang
-Screenplay by Ellen Benjamin Wong, Story by Wayne Wang & Miranda July and Paul Auster & Siri Hustvedt
-Cast: Peter Sarsgaard, Molly Parker, Shane Edelman, Carla Gugino, Balthazar Getty, Maryjane Green, Alisha Klass, Mel Gorham, Pat Morita, Lisa Newlan, Ian Gomez, Jason McCabe, Travis Miljan
(Unrated)
Friday, February 21, 2025
Celtic Pride (1996)
*Get the film on Amazon here*
While not everything Judd Apatow touches turns to gold, it is interesting that he wrote the screenplay for this comedy, but its failure may not be his fault.
Physical education teacher Mike (Daniel Stern) and plumber Jimmy (Dan Aykroyd) are diehard Boston Celtics fans. They are attending the Celts' NBA Finals games against the Utah Jazz in the last few matches before the Celtics' home stadium is torn down. The one person standing in the way of the Celtics' championship, and Mike and Jimmy's eternal joy, is Utah's Lewis Scott (Damon Wayans), a spoiled star player who feels he is carrying his "lesser" teammates. Mike's sports widow wife Carol (a way too serious Gail O'Grady) has filed for divorce again, and Jimmy is all alone- the men only have their sports teams and Lewis has gone and mopped the floor with the Celtics, forcing a final game seven. After hearing Lewis is partying at a local bar, Mike and Jimmy decide to get Lewis so drunk he will play with a hangover and the Celtics will win. The plan starts fine, as Mike and Jimmy get as drunk as Lewis and all three blacking out. The next morning, Lewis' hands are duct taped together and Mike and Jimmy have inadvertently become kidnappers. Lewis is not stupid, and begins playing with the guys' psyches. Mike and Jimmy act stupid, but they are able to get under Lewis' skin as well. Carol, and Mike's son, see Lewis and things get more complicated after a couple of escape attempts. The climax is the all important Game 7, and Mike, Jimmy, and Lewis must come to terms with their behaviors and personalities.
What professional sports fan hasn't wished an opposing team's star player would just disappear off the face of the planet? When Mike and Jimmy snatch Lewis, the dormant sports fan in me smiled. Apatow and co-story writer Colin Quinn seem to have answered the prayers of many a sports fan. Unfortunately, director Tom DeCerchio cannot seem to deliver the goods. While Stern's Mike is a pretty well written character- high school athlete who never made it big, Aykroyd's Jimmy is all over the place. A 40ish year old virgin type who lives alone, Jimmy played by Aykroyd is not funny. Wayans is best as Lewis, but he plays the stuck up basketball player none too deeply, as if this was an extended skit on "In Living Color." Wayans even borrows from his "In Living Color" homeless guy character in the drinking scenes. The supporting cast includes very brief turns by Darrell Hammond and Jeffrey Ross, but someone needs to get sports legends like Larry Bird and Bill Walton cameo acting lessons. Deion Sanders is okay, but geez, sitting through this and the "Space Jam" films only proves my point. Christopher McDonald as Lewis' Pat Riley-like coach gets the biggest laughs. I am not sure who to blame for the film's grimy look. Director of photography Oliver Wood bathes the screen in dingy brown. Production designer Stephen Marsh scores here and there, especially Jimmy's sports-centric home, but even the Celtic green and Jazz purple seem toned down and drab. Basil Poledouris' not-there musical score doesn't help.
From the previews years ago, I thought "Celtic Pride" couldn't miss. Instead, it got lousy reviews and flopped. I guess sometimes those fans in the cheap seats are right.
Stats:
(1996) 91 min. (* *) out of five stars
-Directed by Tom DeCerchio
-Screenplay by Judd Apatow, Story by Judd Apatow and Colin Quinn
-Cast: Dan Aykroyd, Damon Wayans, Daniel Stern, Gail O'Grady, Christopher McDonald, Paul Guilfoyle, Adam Hendershott, Scott Lawrence, Darrell Hammond, Jeffrey Ross, Larry Bird, Bill Walton, Deion Sanders
(PG-13)
While not everything Judd Apatow touches turns to gold, it is interesting that he wrote the screenplay for this comedy, but its failure may not be his fault.
Physical education teacher Mike (Daniel Stern) and plumber Jimmy (Dan Aykroyd) are diehard Boston Celtics fans. They are attending the Celts' NBA Finals games against the Utah Jazz in the last few matches before the Celtics' home stadium is torn down. The one person standing in the way of the Celtics' championship, and Mike and Jimmy's eternal joy, is Utah's Lewis Scott (Damon Wayans), a spoiled star player who feels he is carrying his "lesser" teammates. Mike's sports widow wife Carol (a way too serious Gail O'Grady) has filed for divorce again, and Jimmy is all alone- the men only have their sports teams and Lewis has gone and mopped the floor with the Celtics, forcing a final game seven. After hearing Lewis is partying at a local bar, Mike and Jimmy decide to get Lewis so drunk he will play with a hangover and the Celtics will win. The plan starts fine, as Mike and Jimmy get as drunk as Lewis and all three blacking out. The next morning, Lewis' hands are duct taped together and Mike and Jimmy have inadvertently become kidnappers. Lewis is not stupid, and begins playing with the guys' psyches. Mike and Jimmy act stupid, but they are able to get under Lewis' skin as well. Carol, and Mike's son, see Lewis and things get more complicated after a couple of escape attempts. The climax is the all important Game 7, and Mike, Jimmy, and Lewis must come to terms with their behaviors and personalities.
What professional sports fan hasn't wished an opposing team's star player would just disappear off the face of the planet? When Mike and Jimmy snatch Lewis, the dormant sports fan in me smiled. Apatow and co-story writer Colin Quinn seem to have answered the prayers of many a sports fan. Unfortunately, director Tom DeCerchio cannot seem to deliver the goods. While Stern's Mike is a pretty well written character- high school athlete who never made it big, Aykroyd's Jimmy is all over the place. A 40ish year old virgin type who lives alone, Jimmy played by Aykroyd is not funny. Wayans is best as Lewis, but he plays the stuck up basketball player none too deeply, as if this was an extended skit on "In Living Color." Wayans even borrows from his "In Living Color" homeless guy character in the drinking scenes. The supporting cast includes very brief turns by Darrell Hammond and Jeffrey Ross, but someone needs to get sports legends like Larry Bird and Bill Walton cameo acting lessons. Deion Sanders is okay, but geez, sitting through this and the "Space Jam" films only proves my point. Christopher McDonald as Lewis' Pat Riley-like coach gets the biggest laughs. I am not sure who to blame for the film's grimy look. Director of photography Oliver Wood bathes the screen in dingy brown. Production designer Stephen Marsh scores here and there, especially Jimmy's sports-centric home, but even the Celtic green and Jazz purple seem toned down and drab. Basil Poledouris' not-there musical score doesn't help.
From the previews years ago, I thought "Celtic Pride" couldn't miss. Instead, it got lousy reviews and flopped. I guess sometimes those fans in the cheap seats are right.
Stats:
(1996) 91 min. (* *) out of five stars
-Directed by Tom DeCerchio
-Screenplay by Judd Apatow, Story by Judd Apatow and Colin Quinn
-Cast: Dan Aykroyd, Damon Wayans, Daniel Stern, Gail O'Grady, Christopher McDonald, Paul Guilfoyle, Adam Hendershott, Scott Lawrence, Darrell Hammond, Jeffrey Ross, Larry Bird, Bill Walton, Deion Sanders
(PG-13)
Thursday, February 20, 2025
Caught in the Game (2009)
*Get the film on Amazon here*
This film is an exercise in frustration. An attractive cast, an indy budget, good music, competent direction, yet I never could get caught up in this game.
Lisa (Nyomi Banxxx as Amanda Dee) is a real estate hustler. She brokers shady deals for her drug dealer boyfriend Todd (Cordell Rainey), under the unsuspecting nose of her boss, Goldstein (Guy Nardulli). Lisa also has a love/hate relationship with two coworkers/friends, the impulsive Eve (Nikka Ischelle) and the woman who brought Lisa and Todd together- Angie (Janet Williams). Todd stays out on the streets for days at a time, but pays for Lisa's life of luxury as long as she keeps using her deals to launder his drug money. Everything changes when new janitor Joshua (Simeon Henderson) starts at Goldstein's office. Although cold at first, Joshua gets under Lisa's skin. He's a romantic who falls hard for Lisa, who is tiring of Todd ignoring her. As Lisa and Joshua grow closer, Lisa's criminal work gets sloppy. She needs Todd for his money, needs Joshua for his love, and she is having a difficult time deciding between the two.
The film's title does have a double meaning. Lisa is not only caught in the fraud game, but also the game of love. Watching the characters, you would think her choice would be crystal clear, but writer/director Michael Merrill throws in a twist ending that will leave you with lots of questions and little closure. The film clocks in at almost an hour and fifty minutes, and is in desperate need of some trimming and tightening. Merrill writes scene after scene of dialogue that covers facts we already know, and then beats this proverbial dead horse time and time again. The viewer is overcome with deja vu as Lisa and Todd have the exact same fight (he can't answer the phone when he's out hustling) constantly. Eve and Angie thankfully become more than just disposable best friend characters, until both start parroting themselves from scene to scene, repeating the same warnings to Lisa and Todd about their respective illicit liaisons. This repetition is maddening. On the positive side, the cast is outstanding. Even Todd gets some sympathy here and there, despite being a despicable character. Henderson as Joshua is so likable, you hope he gets Lisa right away. Banxxx is good as Lisa, although some of her character's choices will drive you nuts- unfortunately, the actress is better known for her pornography now. I did catch an errant boom microphone here and there, and Merrill relies on interiors way too much, but other than some technical glitches his direction is comfortable. I am not a fan of hip-hop, but the music is also a plus here.
I have seen worse films, but "Caught in the Game" is still a disappointment. The running time feels padded, and after a while even the willing cast could not save it. To use a completely inappropriate sports metaphor, "Caught in the Game" quickly heads into overtime, when it should have been called much earlier.
Stats:
(2009) 107 min. (* * 1/2) out of five stars
-Written and Directed by Michael Merrill
-Cast: Nyomi Banxxx, Simeon Henderson, Cordell Rainey, Nikka Ischelle, Janet Williams, Guy Nardulli, Riley Vercher, Jade Brandais, Marcus Bradshaw, Cameron Bernstein, Evette Washington, Dexter Smiles, Victor Goularte
(Not Rated)
This film is an exercise in frustration. An attractive cast, an indy budget, good music, competent direction, yet I never could get caught up in this game.
Lisa (Nyomi Banxxx as Amanda Dee) is a real estate hustler. She brokers shady deals for her drug dealer boyfriend Todd (Cordell Rainey), under the unsuspecting nose of her boss, Goldstein (Guy Nardulli). Lisa also has a love/hate relationship with two coworkers/friends, the impulsive Eve (Nikka Ischelle) and the woman who brought Lisa and Todd together- Angie (Janet Williams). Todd stays out on the streets for days at a time, but pays for Lisa's life of luxury as long as she keeps using her deals to launder his drug money. Everything changes when new janitor Joshua (Simeon Henderson) starts at Goldstein's office. Although cold at first, Joshua gets under Lisa's skin. He's a romantic who falls hard for Lisa, who is tiring of Todd ignoring her. As Lisa and Joshua grow closer, Lisa's criminal work gets sloppy. She needs Todd for his money, needs Joshua for his love, and she is having a difficult time deciding between the two.
The film's title does have a double meaning. Lisa is not only caught in the fraud game, but also the game of love. Watching the characters, you would think her choice would be crystal clear, but writer/director Michael Merrill throws in a twist ending that will leave you with lots of questions and little closure. The film clocks in at almost an hour and fifty minutes, and is in desperate need of some trimming and tightening. Merrill writes scene after scene of dialogue that covers facts we already know, and then beats this proverbial dead horse time and time again. The viewer is overcome with deja vu as Lisa and Todd have the exact same fight (he can't answer the phone when he's out hustling) constantly. Eve and Angie thankfully become more than just disposable best friend characters, until both start parroting themselves from scene to scene, repeating the same warnings to Lisa and Todd about their respective illicit liaisons. This repetition is maddening. On the positive side, the cast is outstanding. Even Todd gets some sympathy here and there, despite being a despicable character. Henderson as Joshua is so likable, you hope he gets Lisa right away. Banxxx is good as Lisa, although some of her character's choices will drive you nuts- unfortunately, the actress is better known for her pornography now. I did catch an errant boom microphone here and there, and Merrill relies on interiors way too much, but other than some technical glitches his direction is comfortable. I am not a fan of hip-hop, but the music is also a plus here.
I have seen worse films, but "Caught in the Game" is still a disappointment. The running time feels padded, and after a while even the willing cast could not save it. To use a completely inappropriate sports metaphor, "Caught in the Game" quickly heads into overtime, when it should have been called much earlier.
Stats:
(2009) 107 min. (* * 1/2) out of five stars
-Written and Directed by Michael Merrill
-Cast: Nyomi Banxxx, Simeon Henderson, Cordell Rainey, Nikka Ischelle, Janet Williams, Guy Nardulli, Riley Vercher, Jade Brandais, Marcus Bradshaw, Cameron Bernstein, Evette Washington, Dexter Smiles, Victor Goularte
(Not Rated)
Cathy's Curse (1977)
*Get the film on Amazon here*
This Canadian effort opens with a little girl being taken by her father to go find her mother and little brother, who have left the dad. There is no explanation why the mother took the son but not the daughter. Dad swerves to miss a little white bunny in the road, crashes the car, and he and the daughter die. Fast forward twenty years (and maybe until the end of this film- sorry, still love that joke), and little brother is all grown up and moving back into his childhood home with his wife and a daughter named Cathy (Randi Allen). An elderly cleaning lady and a handyman greet the family, introduce themselves as certain murder victims, and help the family move in. Cathy takes the dead daughter's old room, and finds the dead daughter's favorite toy in the attic. The toy, a doll with its eyes sewn shut, is an object of constant bickering between Cathy and her mother. The film makers make no bones about the fact that Cathy is haunted by her long dead child-aunt, but they can never seem to decide who is doing the haunting.
Is the gruesome doll possessed? No, the doll is not always present when weird things happen. Why does the doll have her eyes sewn shut? Never explained. If the dead child's possessions were so odious and offensive, why were they not thrown out twenty years earlier after the daughter died? That would make too much sense. Is the house haunted? Possibly, but by the dead daughter? There is no indication as to the daughter's possible evil. Maybe she is mad at the mind altering 1970's wallpaper treatments in her old home. Is Cathy just having a spell of ESP and a case of major whoopass? She is able to make some characters "see" things such as rats, snakes, and leaches, but this little devilish power is never explored, either. It seems like the ghost here is eternally pissed off at something, and takes her revenge on the unsuspecting, idiotic cast members. Cathy's father remains oblivious to his own surroundings, never mind the constant presence of police, EMTs, and veterinary coroners in his manicured front yard. He chalks it up to bad luck and constantly goes to the "building site," although we are never sure if he is an architect, construction foreman, or sandwich maker in the chuckwagon.
This is a spiteful, mean little film in which the writers and director have just as much contempt for the viewer as they do for their own characters. I honestly could not believe entire scenes as the actors spoke horrid lines and tried to make me believe they were a family. Watch for the omelette scene, where father and daughter exchange some of the most unbelievably stilted dialogue ever captured.
"Cathy's Curse" cannot be taken seriously, the only real curse is on the unsuspecting viewer. I highly don't recommend it.
Stats:
(1977) 82 min. (1/2 *) out of five stars
-Directed by Eddy Matalon
-Screenplay by Alain Sens-Cazenave & Eddy Matalon & Myra Clement
-Cast: Randi Allen, Alan Scarfe, Beverly Murray, Dorothy Davis, Mary Morter, Roy Witham, Bryce Allen, Sonny Forbes, Renee Girard, Linda Koot, Peter MacNeill, Lisa Nickelt, Hubert Noel
(R)
This Canadian effort opens with a little girl being taken by her father to go find her mother and little brother, who have left the dad. There is no explanation why the mother took the son but not the daughter. Dad swerves to miss a little white bunny in the road, crashes the car, and he and the daughter die. Fast forward twenty years (and maybe until the end of this film- sorry, still love that joke), and little brother is all grown up and moving back into his childhood home with his wife and a daughter named Cathy (Randi Allen). An elderly cleaning lady and a handyman greet the family, introduce themselves as certain murder victims, and help the family move in. Cathy takes the dead daughter's old room, and finds the dead daughter's favorite toy in the attic. The toy, a doll with its eyes sewn shut, is an object of constant bickering between Cathy and her mother. The film makers make no bones about the fact that Cathy is haunted by her long dead child-aunt, but they can never seem to decide who is doing the haunting.
Is the gruesome doll possessed? No, the doll is not always present when weird things happen. Why does the doll have her eyes sewn shut? Never explained. If the dead child's possessions were so odious and offensive, why were they not thrown out twenty years earlier after the daughter died? That would make too much sense. Is the house haunted? Possibly, but by the dead daughter? There is no indication as to the daughter's possible evil. Maybe she is mad at the mind altering 1970's wallpaper treatments in her old home. Is Cathy just having a spell of ESP and a case of major whoopass? She is able to make some characters "see" things such as rats, snakes, and leaches, but this little devilish power is never explored, either. It seems like the ghost here is eternally pissed off at something, and takes her revenge on the unsuspecting, idiotic cast members. Cathy's father remains oblivious to his own surroundings, never mind the constant presence of police, EMTs, and veterinary coroners in his manicured front yard. He chalks it up to bad luck and constantly goes to the "building site," although we are never sure if he is an architect, construction foreman, or sandwich maker in the chuckwagon.
This is a spiteful, mean little film in which the writers and director have just as much contempt for the viewer as they do for their own characters. I honestly could not believe entire scenes as the actors spoke horrid lines and tried to make me believe they were a family. Watch for the omelette scene, where father and daughter exchange some of the most unbelievably stilted dialogue ever captured.
"Cathy's Curse" cannot be taken seriously, the only real curse is on the unsuspecting viewer. I highly don't recommend it.
Stats:
(1977) 82 min. (1/2 *) out of five stars
-Directed by Eddy Matalon
-Screenplay by Alain Sens-Cazenave & Eddy Matalon & Myra Clement
-Cast: Randi Allen, Alan Scarfe, Beverly Murray, Dorothy Davis, Mary Morter, Roy Witham, Bryce Allen, Sonny Forbes, Renee Girard, Linda Koot, Peter MacNeill, Lisa Nickelt, Hubert Noel
(R)
Catch That Kid (2004)
*Get the film on Amazon here*
Maddy (Kristen Stewart) is your typical junior high schooler. That is, if your typical junior high schooler was really into rock climbing.
Her mother (Jennifer Beals) has a convenient job as a security expert for a local bank, run by convenient jerk Brisbane (Michael Des Barres). Maddy's dad (Sam Robards), also a former rock climber, conveniently suffers the effects from an old fall and finds himself paralyzed. The only treatment available is a convenient experimental procedure performed in Denmark, where all the cool stuff happens. The operation would come to a quarter of a million dollars, and insurance is not paying. Maddy has two best friends- Austin (Corbin Bleu), a convenient computer geek, and Gus (Max Thieriot), a convenient mechanic. Instead of killing Mom for the insurance money, our delinquent trio decide to knock over Mom's bank and get the money for the operation. The heist is planned, performed, and routinely ends.
Stewart, Bleu, and Thieriot are very good in roles that are onion paper thin. With the exception of Robards and Beals, every adult here is a complete moron, especially bank security guard Ferrell, played by an embarrassing James Le Gros. Gus' dumb older brother also conveniently gets a security job at the bank. I watched this film and lost track of the missed opportunities. This should have been a "Who's Minding the Mint?" for the kiddie set, instead, even kids will roll their eyes. Mind you, it is not technically bad, but it has been a long time since I have found a film so devoid of surprises. I was immediately bored because I knew exactly what would happen every step of the way, even predicting the little criminals' miscues, and the out-and-out sugary finale.
"Catch That Kid" is conveniently forgettable.
Stats:
(2004) 91 min. (* 1/2) out of five stars
-Directed by Bart Freundlich
-Screenplay by Michael Brandt & Derek Haas, based on the film "Klatretosen" written by Nikolaj Arcel and Fabian Wullenweber & Erlend Loe
-Cast: Kristen Stewart, Corbin Bleu, Max Thieriot, Jennifer Beals, Sam Robards, Michael Des Barres, John Carroll Lynch, James Le Gros, Stark Sands, Lennie Loftin, Francois Giroday, Christine Estabrook, Kevin G. Schmidt
(PG)
Maddy (Kristen Stewart) is your typical junior high schooler. That is, if your typical junior high schooler was really into rock climbing.
Her mother (Jennifer Beals) has a convenient job as a security expert for a local bank, run by convenient jerk Brisbane (Michael Des Barres). Maddy's dad (Sam Robards), also a former rock climber, conveniently suffers the effects from an old fall and finds himself paralyzed. The only treatment available is a convenient experimental procedure performed in Denmark, where all the cool stuff happens. The operation would come to a quarter of a million dollars, and insurance is not paying. Maddy has two best friends- Austin (Corbin Bleu), a convenient computer geek, and Gus (Max Thieriot), a convenient mechanic. Instead of killing Mom for the insurance money, our delinquent trio decide to knock over Mom's bank and get the money for the operation. The heist is planned, performed, and routinely ends.
Stewart, Bleu, and Thieriot are very good in roles that are onion paper thin. With the exception of Robards and Beals, every adult here is a complete moron, especially bank security guard Ferrell, played by an embarrassing James Le Gros. Gus' dumb older brother also conveniently gets a security job at the bank. I watched this film and lost track of the missed opportunities. This should have been a "Who's Minding the Mint?" for the kiddie set, instead, even kids will roll their eyes. Mind you, it is not technically bad, but it has been a long time since I have found a film so devoid of surprises. I was immediately bored because I knew exactly what would happen every step of the way, even predicting the little criminals' miscues, and the out-and-out sugary finale.
"Catch That Kid" is conveniently forgettable.
Stats:
(2004) 91 min. (* 1/2) out of five stars
-Directed by Bart Freundlich
-Screenplay by Michael Brandt & Derek Haas, based on the film "Klatretosen" written by Nikolaj Arcel and Fabian Wullenweber & Erlend Loe
-Cast: Kristen Stewart, Corbin Bleu, Max Thieriot, Jennifer Beals, Sam Robards, Michael Des Barres, John Carroll Lynch, James Le Gros, Stark Sands, Lennie Loftin, Francois Giroday, Christine Estabrook, Kevin G. Schmidt
(PG)
Wednesday, February 19, 2025
Cat People (1942)
*Get the film on Amazon here*
A cult classic deserves it's reputation, and doesn't.
Fashion sketch artist Irena (Simone Simon) is a Serbian fresh off the ship in America. She meets ship builder Oliver (Kent Smith) cute-like, they quickly fall in love, and decide to marry. Everyone is happy for the couple, including Oliver's lovelorn coworker Alice (Jane Randolph), but all is not blissful at home. Irena refuses to even kiss Oliver. Her reason? Due to some ancient Satanic practices by her village back in the homeland, if she submits to physical love, she will turn into a panther and devour her mate. Oliver thinks she is eccentric, and Alice recommends psychiatrist Dr. Judd (Tom Conway). If anything, Irena believes her own story. Animals hate her, and she spends a whole lot of time down at the zoo, sketching the big cats. Oliver tires of his platonic marriage, Alice professes her love for him, and Irena gets more than a little upset.
For years, I have heard about this film. The remake came out decades ago, and was a failure compared to the original. I liked how this film looked, but didn't like what I heard. Everything you may have heard about the cinematography is true- it is gorgeous. For such a small film, atmosphere must be created using such everyday items as table lamps and cigarette smoke. The dark is both repellent and inviting (according to Irena), and the audience sees this. The scene where something in a darkened indoor swimming pool stalks Alice is so effective, it was copied for the remake. While a beautiful film to look at, it is almost too bad it has sound. This is certainly one of the talkiest seventy-two minute films I have ever seen. The premise is set early, then expounded upon until you do wish Irena would either kill someone or put herself outside for the night. Oliver is too aw-shucks naive to be very believable. Alice seems the stronger of the two. Irena also does not convince, a beautiful woman like this has never had a suitor before? Oliver and Irena marry so quickly, does she simply hope her problem will go away? The two lead actors do not have enough chemistry to make us believe this is a relationship that can be risked, cat transformations be darned.
"Cat People" is a disappointment, script and acting wise. However, the mood is so striking, and the sheer framing of the film is so wonderful, I find myself slightly recommending it on those pluses alone. There was an in-name-only sequel that is supposed to be better than this, which is not too difficult to believe.
Stats:
(1942) 73 min. (* * *) out of five stars
-Directed by Jacques Tourneur
-Written by DeWitt Bodeen
-Cast: Simone Simon, Tom Conway, Kent Smith, Jane Randolph, Jack Holt, Alan Napier, Elizabeth Russell, Alec Craig, Eddie Dew, Dot Farley, Mary Halsey, Theresa Harris, Betty Roadman
(Not Rated)
A cult classic deserves it's reputation, and doesn't.
Fashion sketch artist Irena (Simone Simon) is a Serbian fresh off the ship in America. She meets ship builder Oliver (Kent Smith) cute-like, they quickly fall in love, and decide to marry. Everyone is happy for the couple, including Oliver's lovelorn coworker Alice (Jane Randolph), but all is not blissful at home. Irena refuses to even kiss Oliver. Her reason? Due to some ancient Satanic practices by her village back in the homeland, if she submits to physical love, she will turn into a panther and devour her mate. Oliver thinks she is eccentric, and Alice recommends psychiatrist Dr. Judd (Tom Conway). If anything, Irena believes her own story. Animals hate her, and she spends a whole lot of time down at the zoo, sketching the big cats. Oliver tires of his platonic marriage, Alice professes her love for him, and Irena gets more than a little upset.
For years, I have heard about this film. The remake came out decades ago, and was a failure compared to the original. I liked how this film looked, but didn't like what I heard. Everything you may have heard about the cinematography is true- it is gorgeous. For such a small film, atmosphere must be created using such everyday items as table lamps and cigarette smoke. The dark is both repellent and inviting (according to Irena), and the audience sees this. The scene where something in a darkened indoor swimming pool stalks Alice is so effective, it was copied for the remake. While a beautiful film to look at, it is almost too bad it has sound. This is certainly one of the talkiest seventy-two minute films I have ever seen. The premise is set early, then expounded upon until you do wish Irena would either kill someone or put herself outside for the night. Oliver is too aw-shucks naive to be very believable. Alice seems the stronger of the two. Irena also does not convince, a beautiful woman like this has never had a suitor before? Oliver and Irena marry so quickly, does she simply hope her problem will go away? The two lead actors do not have enough chemistry to make us believe this is a relationship that can be risked, cat transformations be darned.
"Cat People" is a disappointment, script and acting wise. However, the mood is so striking, and the sheer framing of the film is so wonderful, I find myself slightly recommending it on those pluses alone. There was an in-name-only sequel that is supposed to be better than this, which is not too difficult to believe.
Stats:
(1942) 73 min. (* * *) out of five stars
-Directed by Jacques Tourneur
-Written by DeWitt Bodeen
-Cast: Simone Simon, Tom Conway, Kent Smith, Jane Randolph, Jack Holt, Alan Napier, Elizabeth Russell, Alec Craig, Eddie Dew, Dot Farley, Mary Halsey, Theresa Harris, Betty Roadman
(Not Rated)
The Castle of Fu Manchu (1969)
*Get the film on Amazon here*
This last film in the series, starring Christopher Lee as the evil Fu Manchu, is a nightmarish blend of stock footage and sleepwalking cast members.
Fu, or is it Manchu? (Christopher Lee), has a new dastardly plan brewing. He has somehow found a process that uses opium crystals to turn water of any temperature into ice. He demonstrates his discovery with some blue tinted footage from an old Titanic flick, as a ship runs into an iceberg in the Caribbean, and then delivers a vague worldwide ultimatum. Fu Manchu and his evil daughter Lin Tang (Tsai Chin) are in Istanbul, using opium dealer Omar's (Jose Manuel Martin) henchmen to take over a castle to be used as evil headquarters. Fu Manchu has kidnapped the professor responsible for the outlandish ice/opium scheme, then kidnaps the professor's physician (Gunther Stoll) to perform a heart transplant to keep the professor vertical. Omar is looking for his captive henchwoman Lisa (Rosalba Neri), as Fu Manchu keeps working on those meaningless threats. For those of you who are thinking, "there just are not enough secondary characters for me," we also have our hero, Scotland Yard detective Nayland Smith (Richard Greene) and his version of Dr. Watson, Dr. Petrie (Howard Marion-Crawford). Soon, there are more jail breaks than "The Great Escape," and the viewer wishes someone would pour ice water down the front of their pants to wake them up.
Directed by the infamous Jess Franco, "The Castle of Fu Manchu" is a snoozefest. Lee is alright as the evil villain, but watching the middle aged Greene beating up teams of martial arts experts like some kind of James Bond wannabe is laughable. The entire cast looks stunned, as if they were smacked in the backs of their heads by a two-by-four. Franco relies on too many obvious special effects shots from other films, and none of his trademark exploitation elements are here- there's no nudity but some very fake looking blood. The sound design also stinks, with some of the worst post-production of the 1960's. Characters deliver sentences of dialogue without moving their lips. The ending of the film seems to come about when the production ran out of money, instead of the story wrapping up loose ends. With the rampant political correctness of today, I doubt we will see another restart of Sax Rohmer's famous "yellow peril" stories.
The only yellow peril in "The Castle of Fu Manchu" is the possibility you might wet your pants laughing at it.
Stats:
(1969) 92 min. (1/2 *) out of five stars
-Directed by Jesus Franco
-Screenplay by Harry Alan Towers, Manfred Barthel, Story by Manfred Barthel, Based on characters created by Sax Rohmer
-Cast: Christopher Lee, Richard Greene, Howard Marion-Crawford, Tsai Chin, Jose Manuel Martin, Rosalba Neri, Gunther Stoll, Maria Perschy, Werner Abrolat, Mike Brendel, David de Keyser, Burt Kwouk, Gustavo Re
(PG)
This last film in the series, starring Christopher Lee as the evil Fu Manchu, is a nightmarish blend of stock footage and sleepwalking cast members.
Fu, or is it Manchu? (Christopher Lee), has a new dastardly plan brewing. He has somehow found a process that uses opium crystals to turn water of any temperature into ice. He demonstrates his discovery with some blue tinted footage from an old Titanic flick, as a ship runs into an iceberg in the Caribbean, and then delivers a vague worldwide ultimatum. Fu Manchu and his evil daughter Lin Tang (Tsai Chin) are in Istanbul, using opium dealer Omar's (Jose Manuel Martin) henchmen to take over a castle to be used as evil headquarters. Fu Manchu has kidnapped the professor responsible for the outlandish ice/opium scheme, then kidnaps the professor's physician (Gunther Stoll) to perform a heart transplant to keep the professor vertical. Omar is looking for his captive henchwoman Lisa (Rosalba Neri), as Fu Manchu keeps working on those meaningless threats. For those of you who are thinking, "there just are not enough secondary characters for me," we also have our hero, Scotland Yard detective Nayland Smith (Richard Greene) and his version of Dr. Watson, Dr. Petrie (Howard Marion-Crawford). Soon, there are more jail breaks than "The Great Escape," and the viewer wishes someone would pour ice water down the front of their pants to wake them up.
Directed by the infamous Jess Franco, "The Castle of Fu Manchu" is a snoozefest. Lee is alright as the evil villain, but watching the middle aged Greene beating up teams of martial arts experts like some kind of James Bond wannabe is laughable. The entire cast looks stunned, as if they were smacked in the backs of their heads by a two-by-four. Franco relies on too many obvious special effects shots from other films, and none of his trademark exploitation elements are here- there's no nudity but some very fake looking blood. The sound design also stinks, with some of the worst post-production of the 1960's. Characters deliver sentences of dialogue without moving their lips. The ending of the film seems to come about when the production ran out of money, instead of the story wrapping up loose ends. With the rampant political correctness of today, I doubt we will see another restart of Sax Rohmer's famous "yellow peril" stories.
The only yellow peril in "The Castle of Fu Manchu" is the possibility you might wet your pants laughing at it.
Stats:
(1969) 92 min. (1/2 *) out of five stars
-Directed by Jesus Franco
-Screenplay by Harry Alan Towers, Manfred Barthel, Story by Manfred Barthel, Based on characters created by Sax Rohmer
-Cast: Christopher Lee, Richard Greene, Howard Marion-Crawford, Tsai Chin, Jose Manuel Martin, Rosalba Neri, Gunther Stoll, Maria Perschy, Werner Abrolat, Mike Brendel, David de Keyser, Burt Kwouk, Gustavo Re
(PG)
Candyman: Day of the Dead (1999)
*Get the film on Amazon here*
The first "Candyman" was a visual feast, a creepy exercise in horror made great by the direction of Bernard Rose. The second "Candyman" was surprisingly watchable, a convoluted story with some interesting shots. The third "Candyman" has plenty of eye candy in the form of nudity, and nothing else.
Donna D'Errico is Caroline, the great-great-granddaughter of the original Candyman (Tony Todd), an artist tortured to death generations ago after his interracial affair with a woman was uncovered. Candyman's story is one of urban legend, but Caroline wants to change all of that by showing his artwork at Miguel's (Mark Adair-Rios) gallery. Miguel hires an actor, David (Nick Corri) to be an obsessed weirdo about Candyman, and the showing goes well until he shows up for his shtick. Miguel forces Caroline to summon Candyman by saying his name five times in a mirror and is later brutally murdered. The paintings are stolen and David is suspected of the killings. David and Caroline team up to find the paintings, and destroy Candyman- who is carving a bloody swath through east Los Angeles with his infamous meat hook.
That is a basic outline, but the film gets overly politically correct by throwing in a racist cop (Wade Williams), and having all of the gore and grue coincidentally occur around Cinco de Mayo, the day of the dead. I know southern California is a melting pot, but the film makers play with race like they are trying to elevate this junk to some sort of obvious allegory about prejudice in today's world.
When I think of good acting, Donna D'Errico's name does not come to mind. D'Errico tries, but most of her scenes have her either screaming her lungs out, or sitting quietly and twitching while smoking a cigarette, trying to recover from the latest crime she has witnessed. Tony Todd's dialogue seems to have been copied from a book entitled "Film's Stupidest Lines of All-Time." Come on, "why have you forsaken me?" is a line always used when a straight-to-video horror film tries to be more than it is. The special effects are average, the fake blood is everywhere, even obscuring the copious number of topless blondes. The swarming bee effects are pretty bad, the budget was not there. Meyer has all the ingredients for a "Candyman" film- graffiti, flashbacks, Caroline even has a friend like Virginia Madsen did in the original, but there is no style or scares here. The Candyman's motives are nonexistent. First, he wants Caroline to believe in him. Then he wants her as a victim, saying "be my victim" more times than I could count, in order to save David's life. The climax is especially drawn out, featuring such a convenient plot twist, that I did not see it coming merely because I over-estimated the limited capabilities of the screenwriters.
"Candyman: Day of the Dead" died on video and should stay that way. Also known as "Candyman 3" and "Candyman 3: Day of the Dead."
Stats:
(1999) 93 min. (*) out of five stars
-Directed by Turi Meyer
-Written by Alfredo Septien & Turi Meyer, based on characters created by Clive Barker
-Cast: Donna D'Errico, Tony Todd, Alexia Robinson, Mark Adair-Rios, Nick Corri, Wade Williams, Mike Moroff, Robert O'Reilly, Chris Van Dahl, Rena Riffel, Laura Mazur, Jsu Garcia, Lupe Ontiveros
(R)
The first "Candyman" was a visual feast, a creepy exercise in horror made great by the direction of Bernard Rose. The second "Candyman" was surprisingly watchable, a convoluted story with some interesting shots. The third "Candyman" has plenty of eye candy in the form of nudity, and nothing else.
Donna D'Errico is Caroline, the great-great-granddaughter of the original Candyman (Tony Todd), an artist tortured to death generations ago after his interracial affair with a woman was uncovered. Candyman's story is one of urban legend, but Caroline wants to change all of that by showing his artwork at Miguel's (Mark Adair-Rios) gallery. Miguel hires an actor, David (Nick Corri) to be an obsessed weirdo about Candyman, and the showing goes well until he shows up for his shtick. Miguel forces Caroline to summon Candyman by saying his name five times in a mirror and is later brutally murdered. The paintings are stolen and David is suspected of the killings. David and Caroline team up to find the paintings, and destroy Candyman- who is carving a bloody swath through east Los Angeles with his infamous meat hook.
That is a basic outline, but the film gets overly politically correct by throwing in a racist cop (Wade Williams), and having all of the gore and grue coincidentally occur around Cinco de Mayo, the day of the dead. I know southern California is a melting pot, but the film makers play with race like they are trying to elevate this junk to some sort of obvious allegory about prejudice in today's world.
When I think of good acting, Donna D'Errico's name does not come to mind. D'Errico tries, but most of her scenes have her either screaming her lungs out, or sitting quietly and twitching while smoking a cigarette, trying to recover from the latest crime she has witnessed. Tony Todd's dialogue seems to have been copied from a book entitled "Film's Stupidest Lines of All-Time." Come on, "why have you forsaken me?" is a line always used when a straight-to-video horror film tries to be more than it is. The special effects are average, the fake blood is everywhere, even obscuring the copious number of topless blondes. The swarming bee effects are pretty bad, the budget was not there. Meyer has all the ingredients for a "Candyman" film- graffiti, flashbacks, Caroline even has a friend like Virginia Madsen did in the original, but there is no style or scares here. The Candyman's motives are nonexistent. First, he wants Caroline to believe in him. Then he wants her as a victim, saying "be my victim" more times than I could count, in order to save David's life. The climax is especially drawn out, featuring such a convenient plot twist, that I did not see it coming merely because I over-estimated the limited capabilities of the screenwriters.
"Candyman: Day of the Dead" died on video and should stay that way. Also known as "Candyman 3" and "Candyman 3: Day of the Dead."
Stats:
(1999) 93 min. (*) out of five stars
-Directed by Turi Meyer
-Written by Alfredo Septien & Turi Meyer, based on characters created by Clive Barker
-Cast: Donna D'Errico, Tony Todd, Alexia Robinson, Mark Adair-Rios, Nick Corri, Wade Williams, Mike Moroff, Robert O'Reilly, Chris Van Dahl, Rena Riffel, Laura Mazur, Jsu Garcia, Lupe Ontiveros
(R)
Tuesday, February 18, 2025
Book Review: "Scenes with My Son: Love and Grief in the Wake of Suicide" by Robert Hubbard
*Get the book on Amazon here*
While I have read hundreds of books in my lifetime, I have only written about a few. I was a bigger fan of film until recently, having watched about seven thousand feature-length movies and shorts that I remember, and reviewing about a thousand (I'm reconstructing an archive blog of those old film, book, and album reviews here). I'm no expert on writing down my thoughts on a film or book, I sometimes have nothing to contribute to the infinite amount of words online, but I found Robert Hubbard's book shook me from my quiet cerebral life, and tapping out these words at my dining room table at 7AM on a cold North Dakota Sunday morning is among one of the more difficult things I've forced myself to do.
I should preface this by saying that I have known the author and his wife and parents for over thirty years. We went to college together where I majored in Broadcasting and minored in Communication Arts. Bob Hubbard and his then-girlfriend April were in the theater department where I found myself auditioning for plays and scoring some roles here and there. Bob's stepdad officiated my sister's wedding, and I had many conversations with him and Bob's mother- they are two of the most interesting people I have met and I even have a couple of books Dr. Slanger wrote on my bookshelves in my basement home office. I was baptized into the Episcopal faith as an infant, making me a member of the church longer than Bob himself, but since I was raised on Air Force bases around the world, my status as "non-practicing" began immediately. My religious upbringing is as messy and scattershot as my college transcripts (four universities, three different declared majors, one Bachelor of Arts degree that I keep in a drawer in my aforementioned home office), consisting of military non-denominational services, a Roman Catholic First Confession- "forgive me, Father, for I have sinned- my last confession was over four and a half decades ago"- Southern Baptist summer camp, Episcopal confirmation classes, dabbling in Catholicism and Buddhism, and getting married into the UCC faith to my first wife. After I graduated (was freed) from my alma mater, I lost track of Bob and April except a few mentions here and there in the alumni magazine. I went back to school seven years after my first degree to get a second one, but dropped out, my marriage ended, and life continued.
It was on social media, something I quit and rejoin with reckless abandon, that I found out about Bob and April's son August and how he took his own life. I started digging deeper into what happened- I am very good at searching out things that I need to find online, it's a gift I guess, and I was heartbroken for the Hubbard and Slanger family. Aspects of Auggie's story mirrored my own. My oldest child is on the autism spectrum. Clinical depression runs rampant in Bob and April's family, and mine as well (I am a High Functioning Depressive with many hours of counseling under my big giant belt). I ordered this book as soon as I learned of its existence, and started reading it right away. I was 39 pages in when I needed to put it down and take a break from it, for reasons I'll reveal later.
Bob and April's journey with Auggie isn't a cautionary tale because nothing could have been done to stop what happened. Suicide is a taboo subject, despite the fact that it, and sudden death in general, affects everyone in the world no matter how tightly we wrap ourselves in our little bubbles and try to ignore it. Bob is an acclaimed theater director and his memoir jumps back and forth in time, telling the reader about scenes from his life with and without Auggie. I immediately connected with what the family was going through, a connection that I made even if I didn't know the author. I am typing this on the seventh anniversary of my father-in-law's sudden passing. Since that horrible day, my wife has lost an aunt and both her grandparents. My own parents have passed away in the last four years, victims of memory problems and leaving the rest of us with zero closure aside from some journals from one of them that I wished I had never read but am still thankful that I did if only to confirm how they felt about me. The Hubbards tried everything with Auggie, relying on their sometimes-shaky faith to get them through, but questioning that helpful faith in the process.
Bob's tone is very emotional, honest, and conversational. I felt for Auggie, trying to get a grasp on what was happening to him inside his head. When you're in the grips of mental illness, you don't know where to turn, and that "everyone is against me" feeling is constant. Bob plunges head-on into what happened, and doesn't sugarcoat anything. He discovered Auggie's body, but doesn't go into detail about how Auggie died, keeping that as something between his son and himself. I completely understand, and appreciate that. I also understood the constant paranoia of walking in the door and wondering if "everything's okay" with your mentally disordered relative. In high school, I used to get off the bus and literally run a block home- not because Grand Forks Air Force Base was the coldest place on Earth at that point in my life, but to make sure "everything's okay" inside. I just realized I never told anyone that before.
Bob relied on prayer to get him through this, but the book is not preachy treacle. He read a lot of books about grief, with some being helpful and some not. He writes a "What Would Auggie Do?" list of things that get him through what amounts to a lifelong trauma that will never go away. Losing a child is not something that you forget, and it doesn't toughen you up for the next round of tumult in your life. My daughter had to be resuscitated twice in her first three days of life at a children's hospital in Minneapolis, but that didn't prepare us for the George Floyd riots and COVID protocols that were waiting just around the literal corner. It was easy to get despondent about my parents dying without the closure I craved, but I handle it by talking and side-eyeing the ceiling once in a while, asking them what they think of something I am reading or watching on television. I never get an answer.
Scenes with My Son: Love and Grief in the Wake of Suicide is a brutal read, mentally. It's not hopeless and morbid, but it doesn't have a happy movie-type ending because although the book has ended, the grief the Hubbards are going through won't end; but neither will the love mentioned in the subtitle.
This is one of the longest "reviews" I've ever written but I wanted to close by explaining why I had to put this book down for a while. Bob and I had some of the same experiences with our respective upbringings: our children's problems, a supremely flawed parent, academic university life (my grandfather was a Philosophy professor and Dean), and being an Episcopalian in very Lutheran North Dakota. We are polar opposites politically, I laughed when he wrote about the uncomfortable Tea Party sermons in a small rural church as I remembered fidgeting through talks with titles like "America's Greatest Leaders: Carter, Clinton, and Christ!" and pastoral drama in my own decade going to a Liberal church every "visit home" to the now ex-in-laws' (I am very apolitical now).
I was waiting outside my daughter's elementary school one brisk day for her to come out so we could go home. I had my youngest daughter with me, she was practicing a standing long jump, happily playing (my wife and I have three children together now and I get mistaken for "grandpa" on a regular basis). I had started reading this book, and it was swirling in my head every waking hour. It was very windy, North Dakota-windy, and the giant pine trees nearby sounded like jet engines with the cold air blowing through them and us. The school door popped open and a teacher or teacher's paraprofessional came out, leading a dark haired little boy to a waiting daycare van behind me. I heard the door open, turned around, and watched the gal help the little boy into the van and then pause to talk to the driver, yelling to be heard: "This is our new friend August! He goes by 'Auggie' and he's going to be with us from now on!" The driver nodded and smiled, and Auggie sat down and got buckled in. My youngest daughter was clinging to my leg, she's tiny and I think she was trying not to blow away. I was in tears (getting dramatically dried by the wind), and I felt like I was getting confirmation from somewhere that Auggie was a new friend and he was going to be with all of us from now on. I came home, completely changed my writing choices and subjects, hence the archive blog, started writing in a physical journal, and opened up this new blog for new viewpoints and writing. Finally, I picked up Bob's book again, and completed it. Thanks, Bob, April, Auggie, and your friends and family for sharing your story.
While I have read hundreds of books in my lifetime, I have only written about a few. I was a bigger fan of film until recently, having watched about seven thousand feature-length movies and shorts that I remember, and reviewing about a thousand (I'm reconstructing an archive blog of those old film, book, and album reviews here). I'm no expert on writing down my thoughts on a film or book, I sometimes have nothing to contribute to the infinite amount of words online, but I found Robert Hubbard's book shook me from my quiet cerebral life, and tapping out these words at my dining room table at 7AM on a cold North Dakota Sunday morning is among one of the more difficult things I've forced myself to do.
I should preface this by saying that I have known the author and his wife and parents for over thirty years. We went to college together where I majored in Broadcasting and minored in Communication Arts. Bob Hubbard and his then-girlfriend April were in the theater department where I found myself auditioning for plays and scoring some roles here and there. Bob's stepdad officiated my sister's wedding, and I had many conversations with him and Bob's mother- they are two of the most interesting people I have met and I even have a couple of books Dr. Slanger wrote on my bookshelves in my basement home office. I was baptized into the Episcopal faith as an infant, making me a member of the church longer than Bob himself, but since I was raised on Air Force bases around the world, my status as "non-practicing" began immediately. My religious upbringing is as messy and scattershot as my college transcripts (four universities, three different declared majors, one Bachelor of Arts degree that I keep in a drawer in my aforementioned home office), consisting of military non-denominational services, a Roman Catholic First Confession- "forgive me, Father, for I have sinned- my last confession was over four and a half decades ago"- Southern Baptist summer camp, Episcopal confirmation classes, dabbling in Catholicism and Buddhism, and getting married into the UCC faith to my first wife. After I graduated (was freed) from my alma mater, I lost track of Bob and April except a few mentions here and there in the alumni magazine. I went back to school seven years after my first degree to get a second one, but dropped out, my marriage ended, and life continued.
It was on social media, something I quit and rejoin with reckless abandon, that I found out about Bob and April's son August and how he took his own life. I started digging deeper into what happened- I am very good at searching out things that I need to find online, it's a gift I guess, and I was heartbroken for the Hubbard and Slanger family. Aspects of Auggie's story mirrored my own. My oldest child is on the autism spectrum. Clinical depression runs rampant in Bob and April's family, and mine as well (I am a High Functioning Depressive with many hours of counseling under my big giant belt). I ordered this book as soon as I learned of its existence, and started reading it right away. I was 39 pages in when I needed to put it down and take a break from it, for reasons I'll reveal later.
Bob and April's journey with Auggie isn't a cautionary tale because nothing could have been done to stop what happened. Suicide is a taboo subject, despite the fact that it, and sudden death in general, affects everyone in the world no matter how tightly we wrap ourselves in our little bubbles and try to ignore it. Bob is an acclaimed theater director and his memoir jumps back and forth in time, telling the reader about scenes from his life with and without Auggie. I immediately connected with what the family was going through, a connection that I made even if I didn't know the author. I am typing this on the seventh anniversary of my father-in-law's sudden passing. Since that horrible day, my wife has lost an aunt and both her grandparents. My own parents have passed away in the last four years, victims of memory problems and leaving the rest of us with zero closure aside from some journals from one of them that I wished I had never read but am still thankful that I did if only to confirm how they felt about me. The Hubbards tried everything with Auggie, relying on their sometimes-shaky faith to get them through, but questioning that helpful faith in the process.
Bob's tone is very emotional, honest, and conversational. I felt for Auggie, trying to get a grasp on what was happening to him inside his head. When you're in the grips of mental illness, you don't know where to turn, and that "everyone is against me" feeling is constant. Bob plunges head-on into what happened, and doesn't sugarcoat anything. He discovered Auggie's body, but doesn't go into detail about how Auggie died, keeping that as something between his son and himself. I completely understand, and appreciate that. I also understood the constant paranoia of walking in the door and wondering if "everything's okay" with your mentally disordered relative. In high school, I used to get off the bus and literally run a block home- not because Grand Forks Air Force Base was the coldest place on Earth at that point in my life, but to make sure "everything's okay" inside. I just realized I never told anyone that before.
Bob relied on prayer to get him through this, but the book is not preachy treacle. He read a lot of books about grief, with some being helpful and some not. He writes a "What Would Auggie Do?" list of things that get him through what amounts to a lifelong trauma that will never go away. Losing a child is not something that you forget, and it doesn't toughen you up for the next round of tumult in your life. My daughter had to be resuscitated twice in her first three days of life at a children's hospital in Minneapolis, but that didn't prepare us for the George Floyd riots and COVID protocols that were waiting just around the literal corner. It was easy to get despondent about my parents dying without the closure I craved, but I handle it by talking and side-eyeing the ceiling once in a while, asking them what they think of something I am reading or watching on television. I never get an answer.
Scenes with My Son: Love and Grief in the Wake of Suicide is a brutal read, mentally. It's not hopeless and morbid, but it doesn't have a happy movie-type ending because although the book has ended, the grief the Hubbards are going through won't end; but neither will the love mentioned in the subtitle.
This is one of the longest "reviews" I've ever written but I wanted to close by explaining why I had to put this book down for a while. Bob and I had some of the same experiences with our respective upbringings: our children's problems, a supremely flawed parent, academic university life (my grandfather was a Philosophy professor and Dean), and being an Episcopalian in very Lutheran North Dakota. We are polar opposites politically, I laughed when he wrote about the uncomfortable Tea Party sermons in a small rural church as I remembered fidgeting through talks with titles like "America's Greatest Leaders: Carter, Clinton, and Christ!" and pastoral drama in my own decade going to a Liberal church every "visit home" to the now ex-in-laws' (I am very apolitical now).
I was waiting outside my daughter's elementary school one brisk day for her to come out so we could go home. I had my youngest daughter with me, she was practicing a standing long jump, happily playing (my wife and I have three children together now and I get mistaken for "grandpa" on a regular basis). I had started reading this book, and it was swirling in my head every waking hour. It was very windy, North Dakota-windy, and the giant pine trees nearby sounded like jet engines with the cold air blowing through them and us. The school door popped open and a teacher or teacher's paraprofessional came out, leading a dark haired little boy to a waiting daycare van behind me. I heard the door open, turned around, and watched the gal help the little boy into the van and then pause to talk to the driver, yelling to be heard: "This is our new friend August! He goes by 'Auggie' and he's going to be with us from now on!" The driver nodded and smiled, and Auggie sat down and got buckled in. My youngest daughter was clinging to my leg, she's tiny and I think she was trying not to blow away. I was in tears (getting dramatically dried by the wind), and I felt like I was getting confirmation from somewhere that Auggie was a new friend and he was going to be with all of us from now on. I came home, completely changed my writing choices and subjects, hence the archive blog, started writing in a physical journal, and opened up this new blog for new viewpoints and writing. Finally, I picked up Bob's book again, and completed it. Thanks, Bob, April, Auggie, and your friends and family for sharing your story.
Swimming (2000)
*Get the film on Amazon here*
When a film is described as a "bittersweet coming-of-age story," that usually marks my intention to either shut it off ten minutes in or fast forward to any nudity that might present itself. In the case of "Swimming," I was hooked immediately and did not want it to end.
Frankie (Lauren Ambrose) is a red-headed tomboy who lives with her brother Neil (Josh Pais) and his wife Marianne (Sharon Scruggs) and their children. Frankie and Neil own a restaurant and failing bar in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, trying to make ends meet until the busy summer tourist season hits. Frankie's best friend, wild child Nicola (Jennifer Dundas) runs a body piercing shop next door, but both want something more from their station in life. The crowds arrive and in walks Josee (Joelle Carter), girlfriend of lifeguard Brad (James Villemaire), who lands a waitressing job in the restaurant based more on her looks than actual customer service skills. Josee and Frankie immediately grow closer, as friends and possibly more, and a jealous Nicola throws herself at Kalani (Anthony Ruivivar), a strange Marine who has an imaginary friend named Ted. As Josee plays fast and loose with Frankie's confused emotions, tie-dye T-shirt salesman Heath (Jamie Harrold) charms his way into Frankie's life. Frankie dumps the controlling Nicola as a friend, and must sort out her feelings for Josee and Heath.
In an interview, co-writer/director Robert J. Siegel smartly acknowledges that while there have been many coming-of-age films before, this one is different because the viewer can associate with Frankie on a deeper level than other characters in those other films. Siegel is completely correct. He even mentions he was a little nerdy like Frankie when he was growing up. I felt a connection with Frankie as well, since all these flawed characters in her life made sure to take time out to tell Frankie what a failure she was, in a masochistic effort to improve their self image...trust me, Frankies of the world, it never seems to end. Lauren Ambrose is almost too beautiful as Frankie, but an "Ugly Betty"-looking actress might have brought out comical touches that are not needed. Siegel's deft casting is nothing short of excellent. Ambrose and the rest are so natural in their roles it hurts. There is no scenery chewing or awkward improv, the cast is perfectly attuned to the script and their craft appears effortless. Siegel's direction is also simple. He does not glamorize the beautiful locations, or pump up the visuals due to a low confidence in the script. The locations are so authentic, and the art direction and set design so real, the viewer is able to give the characters their fullest attention. The soundtrack is full of songs that also have a small town reality to them, serving as an appropriate song score to Frankie's life.
"Swimming" is a treasure, with wonderful characters I quickly came to care about. There are not any shootouts, no extended "today I am a woman" sex scenes, or easily edited monologues that can be shown at awards ceremonies. This is a brief look at one young woman's experiences, and I for one am glad we could come along.
Stats:
(2000) 98 min. (* * * * *) out of five stars
-Directed by Robert J. Siegel
-Written by Robert J. Siegel, Lisa Bazadona, Grace Woodard
-Cast: Lauren Ambrose, Joelle Carter, Jennifer Dundas, James Villemaire, Josh Pais, Sharon Scruggs, Anthony Ruivivar, Jamie Harrold, Joshua Harto, Russ Ferrari, Jeremy Clark, Joe Roseto, Jeffrey Ware
(R)
When a film is described as a "bittersweet coming-of-age story," that usually marks my intention to either shut it off ten minutes in or fast forward to any nudity that might present itself. In the case of "Swimming," I was hooked immediately and did not want it to end.
Frankie (Lauren Ambrose) is a red-headed tomboy who lives with her brother Neil (Josh Pais) and his wife Marianne (Sharon Scruggs) and their children. Frankie and Neil own a restaurant and failing bar in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, trying to make ends meet until the busy summer tourist season hits. Frankie's best friend, wild child Nicola (Jennifer Dundas) runs a body piercing shop next door, but both want something more from their station in life. The crowds arrive and in walks Josee (Joelle Carter), girlfriend of lifeguard Brad (James Villemaire), who lands a waitressing job in the restaurant based more on her looks than actual customer service skills. Josee and Frankie immediately grow closer, as friends and possibly more, and a jealous Nicola throws herself at Kalani (Anthony Ruivivar), a strange Marine who has an imaginary friend named Ted. As Josee plays fast and loose with Frankie's confused emotions, tie-dye T-shirt salesman Heath (Jamie Harrold) charms his way into Frankie's life. Frankie dumps the controlling Nicola as a friend, and must sort out her feelings for Josee and Heath.
In an interview, co-writer/director Robert J. Siegel smartly acknowledges that while there have been many coming-of-age films before, this one is different because the viewer can associate with Frankie on a deeper level than other characters in those other films. Siegel is completely correct. He even mentions he was a little nerdy like Frankie when he was growing up. I felt a connection with Frankie as well, since all these flawed characters in her life made sure to take time out to tell Frankie what a failure she was, in a masochistic effort to improve their self image...trust me, Frankies of the world, it never seems to end. Lauren Ambrose is almost too beautiful as Frankie, but an "Ugly Betty"-looking actress might have brought out comical touches that are not needed. Siegel's deft casting is nothing short of excellent. Ambrose and the rest are so natural in their roles it hurts. There is no scenery chewing or awkward improv, the cast is perfectly attuned to the script and their craft appears effortless. Siegel's direction is also simple. He does not glamorize the beautiful locations, or pump up the visuals due to a low confidence in the script. The locations are so authentic, and the art direction and set design so real, the viewer is able to give the characters their fullest attention. The soundtrack is full of songs that also have a small town reality to them, serving as an appropriate song score to Frankie's life.
"Swimming" is a treasure, with wonderful characters I quickly came to care about. There are not any shootouts, no extended "today I am a woman" sex scenes, or easily edited monologues that can be shown at awards ceremonies. This is a brief look at one young woman's experiences, and I for one am glad we could come along.
Stats:
(2000) 98 min. (* * * * *) out of five stars
-Directed by Robert J. Siegel
-Written by Robert J. Siegel, Lisa Bazadona, Grace Woodard
-Cast: Lauren Ambrose, Joelle Carter, Jennifer Dundas, James Villemaire, Josh Pais, Sharon Scruggs, Anthony Ruivivar, Jamie Harrold, Joshua Harto, Russ Ferrari, Jeremy Clark, Joe Roseto, Jeffrey Ware
(R)
Cahill: U.S. Marshal (1973)
*Get the film on Amazon here*
In 1973, John Wayne continued making safe, similar westerns that really did nothing to change the genre, except for his final film "The Shootist." "Cahill: United States Marshal" falls into this sure category.
Wayne is the title character, a tough U.S. marshal who is gone from home a lot, letting his sons Danny (Gary Grimes) and Billy Joe (Clay O'Brien) fend for themselves. In order to get back at their dad, seventeen year old Danny and eleven year old Billy Joe join with a gang led by Fraser (George Kennedy) to rob the town bank. The group has a foolproof plan- get themselves locked in jail, escape, rob the bank, then lock themselves up again with a perfect alibi. The bank is robbed, but Fraser's empty promises about no one getting hurt are broken as two people are killed. Billy Joe is told to hide the loot, and the brothers are threatened if they ever talk. By this point, Cahill has returned to town, and takes Danny to go track the imaginary bank robbers. They do stumble upon a group of outlaws, and these men are arrested and sentenced to hang. The brothers must now work to get the hidden loot to Fraser, save the four innocent men, and look over their shoulder as their father becomes more suspicious of their weird behavior.
I have always liked John Wayne. He had huge screen presence that has never been equalled. The voice, the stance, you know right away when he is onscreen. Say what you want about the bad film choices he made, and he made some doozies, even his mediocre films are better than some of the cow plop Hollywood passes out today. "Cahill" is a good film, despite some flaws. There is never a scene where Wayne finds out the truth about his criminally inclined children, one second he doesn't know, the next second he does. I would have liked to see him figure it out and react. Also, some of McLaglen's action sequences are stilted. Watch the scene where Wayne catches a knife in his shoulder, barely wincing, and knowing that the knife was already there when the scene began. Same for the ridiculous owl-scares-kids scene, with a large fake bird on some string. Neville Brand, a name you may not know, but a face you have seen in films before, is excellent here as Lightfoot, a half-Comanche tracker who fancies himself a great warrior. Denver Pyle, Jackie Coogan, Royal Dano, and Paul Fix are all well known film veterans, but are given just one or two scenes and a handful of lines each. Some of the gun scenes are bloody, but the gore looks like bright red paint and is not convincing.
"Cahill: U.S. Marshal" rests on John Wayne's shoulders, and he is up to the task. He is very watchable, and does a good job in a role he could have sleepwalked through.
Stats:
(1973) 103 min. (* * *) out of five stars
-Directed by Andrew V. McLaglen
-Screenplay by Harry Julian Fink and Rita M. Fink, Story by Barney Slater
-Cast: John Wayne, George Kennedy, Gary Grimes, Neville Brand, Clay O'Brien, Marie Windsor, Morgan Paull, Dan Vadis, Royal Dano, Scott Walker, Denver Pyle, Jackie Coogan, Paul Fix
(PG)
In 1973, John Wayne continued making safe, similar westerns that really did nothing to change the genre, except for his final film "The Shootist." "Cahill: United States Marshal" falls into this sure category.
Wayne is the title character, a tough U.S. marshal who is gone from home a lot, letting his sons Danny (Gary Grimes) and Billy Joe (Clay O'Brien) fend for themselves. In order to get back at their dad, seventeen year old Danny and eleven year old Billy Joe join with a gang led by Fraser (George Kennedy) to rob the town bank. The group has a foolproof plan- get themselves locked in jail, escape, rob the bank, then lock themselves up again with a perfect alibi. The bank is robbed, but Fraser's empty promises about no one getting hurt are broken as two people are killed. Billy Joe is told to hide the loot, and the brothers are threatened if they ever talk. By this point, Cahill has returned to town, and takes Danny to go track the imaginary bank robbers. They do stumble upon a group of outlaws, and these men are arrested and sentenced to hang. The brothers must now work to get the hidden loot to Fraser, save the four innocent men, and look over their shoulder as their father becomes more suspicious of their weird behavior.
I have always liked John Wayne. He had huge screen presence that has never been equalled. The voice, the stance, you know right away when he is onscreen. Say what you want about the bad film choices he made, and he made some doozies, even his mediocre films are better than some of the cow plop Hollywood passes out today. "Cahill" is a good film, despite some flaws. There is never a scene where Wayne finds out the truth about his criminally inclined children, one second he doesn't know, the next second he does. I would have liked to see him figure it out and react. Also, some of McLaglen's action sequences are stilted. Watch the scene where Wayne catches a knife in his shoulder, barely wincing, and knowing that the knife was already there when the scene began. Same for the ridiculous owl-scares-kids scene, with a large fake bird on some string. Neville Brand, a name you may not know, but a face you have seen in films before, is excellent here as Lightfoot, a half-Comanche tracker who fancies himself a great warrior. Denver Pyle, Jackie Coogan, Royal Dano, and Paul Fix are all well known film veterans, but are given just one or two scenes and a handful of lines each. Some of the gun scenes are bloody, but the gore looks like bright red paint and is not convincing.
"Cahill: U.S. Marshal" rests on John Wayne's shoulders, and he is up to the task. He is very watchable, and does a good job in a role he could have sleepwalked through.
Stats:
(1973) 103 min. (* * *) out of five stars
-Directed by Andrew V. McLaglen
-Screenplay by Harry Julian Fink and Rita M. Fink, Story by Barney Slater
-Cast: John Wayne, George Kennedy, Gary Grimes, Neville Brand, Clay O'Brien, Marie Windsor, Morgan Paull, Dan Vadis, Royal Dano, Scott Walker, Denver Pyle, Jackie Coogan, Paul Fix
(PG)
Caged Heat II: Stripped of Freedom (1994)
*Get "Caged Heat" (1974) on Amazon here*
Sometimes, even women-in-prison flicks are so bad, the promise of sadistic guards and gratuitous shower scenes are not enough to combat the ineptitude of the director, in this case, one Cirio H. Santiago.
Santiago is an awful director. Truly awful. I have seen a few of his potboilers in my day, and they were all low points in my life. Amanda (Jewel Shepard) is a CIA agent posing as the mistress of a Southeast Asian monarch (Ramon D'Salva). The king is shot and his hot princess daughter Marga (Chanel Akiko Hikai) is hauled off to an island prison to await a trial and certain execution. Except, the assassination was fake! Hooray! The king gets royally ticked about his daughter being taken, and threatens Amanda's boss Carl (Ed Crick) with big press conferences and tattle-telling if Marga is not rescued. Lo and behold, Amanda has a new assignment: go to the prison and break Marga out. Amanda hides some blow in her suitcase and is arrested, along with porn smuggler Lucy (Susan Harvey) and both go to the big house. The warden (Vic Diaz) is busy "entertaining" scary Paula (Pamella D'Pella) so she can feed her dope habit. Amanda is strip searched and tossed in with the other inmates, all of whom are under twenty five years of age and cute. The cells are larger than my first apartment and, after Marga arrives, an escape attempt is on.
Coming from New Horizons Home Video, you know this film was never destined for Oscar greatness. Jewel Shepard has written about her life as a B movie actress, and always seemed to have a sense of humor about the schlock she appeared in. In this movie, unfortunately, she is awful. Her only emotion is "pissy," and she delivers all her lines through clenched teeth while glaring at other characters. The rest of the cast is even worse. The screenplay is so bad, I could write a book. Santiago's direction is purely Santiagoan, i.e. awful. There are plenty of bored shootouts and fights, but the film is seriously lacking in the skin department. Sure, we have some topless scenes here and there, but even the shower room scene has the actresses wearing bikini bottoms or towels.
"Caged Heat II: Stripped of Freedom" is an absolute flop. Sorry, ladies, no early release for you.
Stats:
(1994) 72 min. (1/2 *) out of five stars
-Directed by Cirio H. Santiago
-Screenplay by Paul Ziller, Story by Rob Kerchner
-Cast: Jewel Shepard, Ramon D'Salva, Chanel Akiko Hikai, Ed Crick, Pamella D'Pella, Susan Harvey, Vic Diaz, Bon Vibar, Jose Torres, Henry Strzalkowski, Jim Moss, Ned Hourani, Miguel Romero
(R)
Sometimes, even women-in-prison flicks are so bad, the promise of sadistic guards and gratuitous shower scenes are not enough to combat the ineptitude of the director, in this case, one Cirio H. Santiago.
Santiago is an awful director. Truly awful. I have seen a few of his potboilers in my day, and they were all low points in my life. Amanda (Jewel Shepard) is a CIA agent posing as the mistress of a Southeast Asian monarch (Ramon D'Salva). The king is shot and his hot princess daughter Marga (Chanel Akiko Hikai) is hauled off to an island prison to await a trial and certain execution. Except, the assassination was fake! Hooray! The king gets royally ticked about his daughter being taken, and threatens Amanda's boss Carl (Ed Crick) with big press conferences and tattle-telling if Marga is not rescued. Lo and behold, Amanda has a new assignment: go to the prison and break Marga out. Amanda hides some blow in her suitcase and is arrested, along with porn smuggler Lucy (Susan Harvey) and both go to the big house. The warden (Vic Diaz) is busy "entertaining" scary Paula (Pamella D'Pella) so she can feed her dope habit. Amanda is strip searched and tossed in with the other inmates, all of whom are under twenty five years of age and cute. The cells are larger than my first apartment and, after Marga arrives, an escape attempt is on.
Coming from New Horizons Home Video, you know this film was never destined for Oscar greatness. Jewel Shepard has written about her life as a B movie actress, and always seemed to have a sense of humor about the schlock she appeared in. In this movie, unfortunately, she is awful. Her only emotion is "pissy," and she delivers all her lines through clenched teeth while glaring at other characters. The rest of the cast is even worse. The screenplay is so bad, I could write a book. Santiago's direction is purely Santiagoan, i.e. awful. There are plenty of bored shootouts and fights, but the film is seriously lacking in the skin department. Sure, we have some topless scenes here and there, but even the shower room scene has the actresses wearing bikini bottoms or towels.
"Caged Heat II: Stripped of Freedom" is an absolute flop. Sorry, ladies, no early release for you.
Stats:
(1994) 72 min. (1/2 *) out of five stars
-Directed by Cirio H. Santiago
-Screenplay by Paul Ziller, Story by Rob Kerchner
-Cast: Jewel Shepard, Ramon D'Salva, Chanel Akiko Hikai, Ed Crick, Pamella D'Pella, Susan Harvey, Vic Diaz, Bon Vibar, Jose Torres, Henry Strzalkowski, Jim Moss, Ned Hourani, Miguel Romero
(R)
At the Circus (1939)
*Get the film on Amazon here*
The Marx Brothers return, a little worse for wear and long in the tooth, in a very slight comedy.
First, the silly plot- young Jeff (Kenny Baker) runs a circus. He has made enough money to pay back the villainous Carter (James Burke), who used to own the circus. Now Jeff can marry sweet Julie (Florence Rice), who has a pretty weird little horse act. Chico Marx is Tony, an Italian who helps out with the circus. Punchy (Harpo Marx) also kind of hangs around the circus with little more to do than make the film's viewer laugh. The money is stolen from Jeff by the strongman Goliath (Nat Pendleton) and the little person Professor (Jerry Maren). Tony calls in a lawyer, J. Cheever Loophole, played to the hilt by Groucho Marx. Jeff is disinherited by his rich aunt Susanna Dukesbury (Margaret Dumont), so he cannot count on her for the missing money. As Jeff and Julie slaughter a few weak songs, the Marx Brothers proceed with their investigations of the robbery.
The plot is flimsy, and the songs are extra flimsy. There is one tune called "Two Blind Loves" that is sung to "Three Blind Mice." It was deemed so good, Jeff and Julie wring it out twice. Harpo Marx has a great scene playing the harp. Unfortunately, it happens during the excruciating "Swingali," where dozens of children follow him around a circus tent, occasionally breaking into the chorus of "Swing Low Sweet Chariot." The film is not a complete loss. The brothers are at the top of their form, if not looking a little older. There is a great scene in the Professor's room, when the boys try to retrieve one of his cigars to compare to one found at the crime scene. Another classic scene involves Punchy and Tony trying to search Goliath's bed for the money, with Goliath sound asleep. Finally, Loophole's loud entry into Dukesbury's mansion is hilarious all the way through. The silly, unbelievable finale is pure slapstick, and works. The direction, script, and songs are standard, but the cast lifts this above the norm.
"At the Circus" is silly, but not the best Marx comedy out there.
Stats:
(1939) 87 min. (* * *) out of five stars
-Directed by Edward Buzzell
-Screenplay by Irving Brecher
-Cast: Groucho Marx, Chico Marx, Harpo Marx, Margaret Dumont, Kenny Baker, Florence Rice, James Burke, Jerry Maren, Nat Pendleton, Eve Arden, Fritz Feld, Barnett Parker, Mariska Aldrich
(Not Rated)
The Marx Brothers return, a little worse for wear and long in the tooth, in a very slight comedy.
First, the silly plot- young Jeff (Kenny Baker) runs a circus. He has made enough money to pay back the villainous Carter (James Burke), who used to own the circus. Now Jeff can marry sweet Julie (Florence Rice), who has a pretty weird little horse act. Chico Marx is Tony, an Italian who helps out with the circus. Punchy (Harpo Marx) also kind of hangs around the circus with little more to do than make the film's viewer laugh. The money is stolen from Jeff by the strongman Goliath (Nat Pendleton) and the little person Professor (Jerry Maren). Tony calls in a lawyer, J. Cheever Loophole, played to the hilt by Groucho Marx. Jeff is disinherited by his rich aunt Susanna Dukesbury (Margaret Dumont), so he cannot count on her for the missing money. As Jeff and Julie slaughter a few weak songs, the Marx Brothers proceed with their investigations of the robbery.
The plot is flimsy, and the songs are extra flimsy. There is one tune called "Two Blind Loves" that is sung to "Three Blind Mice." It was deemed so good, Jeff and Julie wring it out twice. Harpo Marx has a great scene playing the harp. Unfortunately, it happens during the excruciating "Swingali," where dozens of children follow him around a circus tent, occasionally breaking into the chorus of "Swing Low Sweet Chariot." The film is not a complete loss. The brothers are at the top of their form, if not looking a little older. There is a great scene in the Professor's room, when the boys try to retrieve one of his cigars to compare to one found at the crime scene. Another classic scene involves Punchy and Tony trying to search Goliath's bed for the money, with Goliath sound asleep. Finally, Loophole's loud entry into Dukesbury's mansion is hilarious all the way through. The silly, unbelievable finale is pure slapstick, and works. The direction, script, and songs are standard, but the cast lifts this above the norm.
"At the Circus" is silly, but not the best Marx comedy out there.
Stats:
(1939) 87 min. (* * *) out of five stars
-Directed by Edward Buzzell
-Screenplay by Irving Brecher
-Cast: Groucho Marx, Chico Marx, Harpo Marx, Margaret Dumont, Kenny Baker, Florence Rice, James Burke, Jerry Maren, Nat Pendleton, Eve Arden, Fritz Feld, Barnett Parker, Mariska Aldrich
(Not Rated)
Sunday, February 16, 2025
Arthur (2011)
*Get the film on Amazon here*
The biggest problem I had with this remake of the infintely likeable 1981 original comedy wasn't the atrocious direction, ill-advised changes to the original story, Nick Nolte's bored performance, Jennifer Garner and Greta Gerwig's bland, underwritten roles, or the leaden pacing of the first ninety minutes. Simply, I liked Dudley Moore's Arthur Bach (he was a lot of fun to watch and I'd want to hang out with him), and I hated Russell Brand's Arthur Bach (who I started wishing would get run over by a car). Helen Mirren walks away with all of her scenes, the rest of the cast should have taken notes.
Stats:
(2011) 110 min. (*) out of five stars
-Directed by Jason Winer
-Screenplay by Peter Baynham, Story by Steve Gordon
-Cast: Russell Brand, Jennifer Garner, Helen Mirren, Greta Gerwig, Nick Nolte, Geraldine James, Luis Guzman, Christina Jacquelyn Calph, Murphy Guyer, Jose Ramon Rosario, Jon Hodgman, Evander Holyfield, Scott Adsit
(PG-13)
The biggest problem I had with this remake of the infintely likeable 1981 original comedy wasn't the atrocious direction, ill-advised changes to the original story, Nick Nolte's bored performance, Jennifer Garner and Greta Gerwig's bland, underwritten roles, or the leaden pacing of the first ninety minutes. Simply, I liked Dudley Moore's Arthur Bach (he was a lot of fun to watch and I'd want to hang out with him), and I hated Russell Brand's Arthur Bach (who I started wishing would get run over by a car). Helen Mirren walks away with all of her scenes, the rest of the cast should have taken notes.
Stats:
(2011) 110 min. (*) out of five stars
-Directed by Jason Winer
-Screenplay by Peter Baynham, Story by Steve Gordon
-Cast: Russell Brand, Jennifer Garner, Helen Mirren, Greta Gerwig, Nick Nolte, Geraldine James, Luis Guzman, Christina Jacquelyn Calph, Murphy Guyer, Jose Ramon Rosario, Jon Hodgman, Evander Holyfield, Scott Adsit
(PG-13)
Avenging Angelo (2002)
*Get the film on Amazon here*
With the terrific success of "The Sopranos," and with "Married to the Mob" and "Prizzi's Honor" lurking in their collective subconscious, the film makers behind "Avenging Angelo" had some big cement shoes to fill, or I should say, fail to fill.
Angelo (Anthony Quinn) is a dying mob boss accompanied by his faithful bodyguard Frankie (Sylvester Stallone). Years before, Angelo fathered a daughter, Jennifer (Madeleine Stowe), but gave her up to a childless family. A contract had been put out on any child Angelo may have, so he and Frankie kept their distance but always kept an eye on Jennifer, who grew up to be a rich, neurotic housewife married to jerk Kip (Harry Van Gorkum). Angelo gets whacked, Frankie is injured, and he goes to Jennifer to tell her the truth about her real father, and protects her as hitmen begin hunting her down. Author Marcello (Raoul Boya) enters Jennifer's life, sweeping her off her feet. Frankie's love stays unrequited as Jennifer decides to take out a hit on the man responsible for Angelo's death.
What the DVD cover for the film doesn't tell you is this tries to be a comedy, and I emphasize the word "tries." Stallone is very likable as Frankie, and Quinn is sympathetic in his last role. Stowe throws herself completely into the film, giving us her most memorable character since "12 Monkeys" and "The Last of the Mohicans." It's a shame the film tries too hard to cram every funny idea it has into ninety-seven minutes, because snappier editing might have helped. Jokes about Jennifer's adoptive dad's homosexuality, a running gag about Frankie disposing of bodies at Jennifer's mansion, a gassy hitman- none of them land. Jennifer's first "hit" takes too long, and comes at a weird time in the film. The story never progresses smoothly as characters and situations are hurriedly introduced and executed, as if a treatment and not a screenplay was filmed.
It's easy to see why "Avenging Angelo" went straight to video, and probably resides in the Action section of your streaming service, thanks to the misleading poster art. Forget Angelo, I want my ninety-seven minutes avenged.
Stats:
(2002) 97 min. (* *) out of five stars
-Directed by Martyn Burke
-Screenplay by William Porter & Steve Mackall, Story by William Porter
-Cast: Sylvester Stallone, Madeleine Stowe, Anthony Quinn, Harry Van Gorkum, Raoul Boya, Billy Gardell, George Touliatos, Angelo Celeste, Ezra Perlman, Carin Moffat, John Gilbert, Dawn Greenhalgh, Angelo Tsarouchas
(R)
With the terrific success of "The Sopranos," and with "Married to the Mob" and "Prizzi's Honor" lurking in their collective subconscious, the film makers behind "Avenging Angelo" had some big cement shoes to fill, or I should say, fail to fill.
Angelo (Anthony Quinn) is a dying mob boss accompanied by his faithful bodyguard Frankie (Sylvester Stallone). Years before, Angelo fathered a daughter, Jennifer (Madeleine Stowe), but gave her up to a childless family. A contract had been put out on any child Angelo may have, so he and Frankie kept their distance but always kept an eye on Jennifer, who grew up to be a rich, neurotic housewife married to jerk Kip (Harry Van Gorkum). Angelo gets whacked, Frankie is injured, and he goes to Jennifer to tell her the truth about her real father, and protects her as hitmen begin hunting her down. Author Marcello (Raoul Boya) enters Jennifer's life, sweeping her off her feet. Frankie's love stays unrequited as Jennifer decides to take out a hit on the man responsible for Angelo's death.
What the DVD cover for the film doesn't tell you is this tries to be a comedy, and I emphasize the word "tries." Stallone is very likable as Frankie, and Quinn is sympathetic in his last role. Stowe throws herself completely into the film, giving us her most memorable character since "12 Monkeys" and "The Last of the Mohicans." It's a shame the film tries too hard to cram every funny idea it has into ninety-seven minutes, because snappier editing might have helped. Jokes about Jennifer's adoptive dad's homosexuality, a running gag about Frankie disposing of bodies at Jennifer's mansion, a gassy hitman- none of them land. Jennifer's first "hit" takes too long, and comes at a weird time in the film. The story never progresses smoothly as characters and situations are hurriedly introduced and executed, as if a treatment and not a screenplay was filmed.
It's easy to see why "Avenging Angelo" went straight to video, and probably resides in the Action section of your streaming service, thanks to the misleading poster art. Forget Angelo, I want my ninety-seven minutes avenged.
Stats:
(2002) 97 min. (* *) out of five stars
-Directed by Martyn Burke
-Screenplay by William Porter & Steve Mackall, Story by William Porter
-Cast: Sylvester Stallone, Madeleine Stowe, Anthony Quinn, Harry Van Gorkum, Raoul Boya, Billy Gardell, George Touliatos, Angelo Celeste, Ezra Perlman, Carin Moffat, John Gilbert, Dawn Greenhalgh, Angelo Tsarouchas
(R)
The Treatment (2014)
*Get the film on Amazon here*
Ye olde police procedural has been around for decades, with dozens of examples being shown on television every night of the week. There is rarely anything new to offer, and the comfortable television shows follow a routine in their episodes that rarely challenges the average viewer. Director Hans Herbots and screenwriter Carl Joos takes an English crime novel (by Mo Hayder), the age old police conventions, and shakes things up a bit.
The evil of some of our fellow humans is ratcheted up, and this film contains an excruciating final scene that will stick with you for days. To say "The Treatment" is a dark film is an understatement. Nick Cafmeyer (an excellent Geert Van Rampelberg) is a driven inspector dealing with the demons of his past. His younger brother was kidnapped, and the uncharged prime suspect (Johan van Assche) in the case continues to bother the detective to this day. Nick's new case involves another missing child, and old wounds are reopened as Nick confronts similarities to his past. The missing child's parents almost died from dehydration as the kidnapper handcuffed them for days without food or water while the boy was assaulted. Many suspects come out of the woodwork- I wouldn't identify them as "red herrings" though, and a driven Nick investigates under the sympathetic watchful eye of boss Danni (Ina Geerts).
The brilliance of Joos' screenplay is that just when you think you have everything figured out, the film throws a curve ball that has you questioning yourself again and again. This is not a gimmicky strategy, but an organic product of the story. The film upsets the conventions, thankfully, no interrogation room theatrics, expertly. The plot is so compelling that I was glued to what was happening, and followed the characters to where the story went with both fascination and repulsion. Herbots' camera is cold and unflinching. There are a number of scenes that will make you squirm and turn away, and it's depressing that this type of crime is being committed on a daily basis around the world. The editing by Philippe Ravoet is breathtaking. Often, the film will cut back and forth between two or three scenes, all of which have something vital to the plot happening, and the viewer won't be able to take their eyes off the screen. Van Rampelberg is a handsome actor, but this isn't an action film, and he is able to deliver a troubled performance that should have earned him awards. If this was remade, the role is perfect for Liam Neeson, if he hadn't played almost the exact same character in "A Walk Among the Tombstones."
"The Treatment," also known as "De Behandeling," will haunt you for days. This was one of the best films of the year.
Stats:
(2014) 131 min. (* * * * *) out of five stars
-Directed by Hans Herbots
-Scenario by Carl Joos based on the novel by Mo Hayder
-Cast: Geert Van Rampelberg, Johan van Assche, Ina Geerts, Laura Verlinden, Dominique Van Malder, Roel Swanenberg, Kyan Steverlynck, Ingrid De Vos, Michael Vergauwen, Circe Lethem, Brit Van Hoof, Tibo Vandenborre, Stan Puynen
(Not Rated)
Ye olde police procedural has been around for decades, with dozens of examples being shown on television every night of the week. There is rarely anything new to offer, and the comfortable television shows follow a routine in their episodes that rarely challenges the average viewer. Director Hans Herbots and screenwriter Carl Joos takes an English crime novel (by Mo Hayder), the age old police conventions, and shakes things up a bit.
The evil of some of our fellow humans is ratcheted up, and this film contains an excruciating final scene that will stick with you for days. To say "The Treatment" is a dark film is an understatement. Nick Cafmeyer (an excellent Geert Van Rampelberg) is a driven inspector dealing with the demons of his past. His younger brother was kidnapped, and the uncharged prime suspect (Johan van Assche) in the case continues to bother the detective to this day. Nick's new case involves another missing child, and old wounds are reopened as Nick confronts similarities to his past. The missing child's parents almost died from dehydration as the kidnapper handcuffed them for days without food or water while the boy was assaulted. Many suspects come out of the woodwork- I wouldn't identify them as "red herrings" though, and a driven Nick investigates under the sympathetic watchful eye of boss Danni (Ina Geerts).
The brilliance of Joos' screenplay is that just when you think you have everything figured out, the film throws a curve ball that has you questioning yourself again and again. This is not a gimmicky strategy, but an organic product of the story. The film upsets the conventions, thankfully, no interrogation room theatrics, expertly. The plot is so compelling that I was glued to what was happening, and followed the characters to where the story went with both fascination and repulsion. Herbots' camera is cold and unflinching. There are a number of scenes that will make you squirm and turn away, and it's depressing that this type of crime is being committed on a daily basis around the world. The editing by Philippe Ravoet is breathtaking. Often, the film will cut back and forth between two or three scenes, all of which have something vital to the plot happening, and the viewer won't be able to take their eyes off the screen. Van Rampelberg is a handsome actor, but this isn't an action film, and he is able to deliver a troubled performance that should have earned him awards. If this was remade, the role is perfect for Liam Neeson, if he hadn't played almost the exact same character in "A Walk Among the Tombstones."
"The Treatment," also known as "De Behandeling," will haunt you for days. This was one of the best films of the year.
Stats:
(2014) 131 min. (* * * * *) out of five stars
-Directed by Hans Herbots
-Scenario by Carl Joos based on the novel by Mo Hayder
-Cast: Geert Van Rampelberg, Johan van Assche, Ina Geerts, Laura Verlinden, Dominique Van Malder, Roel Swanenberg, Kyan Steverlynck, Ingrid De Vos, Michael Vergauwen, Circe Lethem, Brit Van Hoof, Tibo Vandenborre, Stan Puynen
(Not Rated)
Saturday, February 15, 2025
The Young Like It Hot (1983)
*Get a copy of A Call to Purity: Living a Lifestyle of Purity by Richard and Brittni De La Morra on Amazon here*
Hyapatia Lee makes her adult film debut in this effort from veteran director Bob Chinn.
Lee stars as Loni, a supervisor of a few telephone operators. The company will be switching to computerized service soon, so Loni decides the women and one dude need to go above and beyond the call (sorry) of duty- offering the callers advice and help instead of just moving them along to another connection. Big Dick (William Margold) starts the ball rolling with a memorable bit, and soon the employees are sleeping with some of the customers, when they have a break from sleeping with each other.
Chinn says in a separate interview that he was starting to lose interest in shooting these types of films, but it doesn't show, as there seemed to be actual planning in the shots. The screenplay, while containing a fair amount of sex, also has a plot and actual characters, even though both devices are paper-thin. We even hear a title theme song! Much is made of Shauna Grant's performances, or lack thereof, in the films she made in her short career. I don't know how many viewers screen pornography for the acting, but she is just fine here. Grant was a flawless looking woman whose life ended too soon. If you want to criticize anyone's performance, it's Lili Marlene's, who I believe was not given a script before Chinn yelled "action!" The tiny set does get claustrophobic from time to time, and David (Bud Lee), the only male operator in the company, looks uncomfortably similar to Rupert Holmes. Joey Silvera disconcertingly resembles Cha-Ka from "Land of the Lost."
"The Young Like It Hot" is an awful title, and the live operators versus computers story is hopelessly dated, but the editing is quick, and the technical aspects are top notch.
Stats:
(1983) 91 min. (0 *) out of five stars
-Directed by Bob Chinn
-Story and Screenplay by Gail Palmer
-Cast: Hyapatia Lee, William Margold, Shauna Grant, Lili Marlene, Bud Lee, Joey Silvera, Kay Parker, Rosa Lee Kimball, Linda Shaw, Pat Manning, Eric Edwards, Herschel Savage, Paul Thomas
(X)
Hyapatia Lee makes her adult film debut in this effort from veteran director Bob Chinn.
Lee stars as Loni, a supervisor of a few telephone operators. The company will be switching to computerized service soon, so Loni decides the women and one dude need to go above and beyond the call (sorry) of duty- offering the callers advice and help instead of just moving them along to another connection. Big Dick (William Margold) starts the ball rolling with a memorable bit, and soon the employees are sleeping with some of the customers, when they have a break from sleeping with each other.
Chinn says in a separate interview that he was starting to lose interest in shooting these types of films, but it doesn't show, as there seemed to be actual planning in the shots. The screenplay, while containing a fair amount of sex, also has a plot and actual characters, even though both devices are paper-thin. We even hear a title theme song! Much is made of Shauna Grant's performances, or lack thereof, in the films she made in her short career. I don't know how many viewers screen pornography for the acting, but she is just fine here. Grant was a flawless looking woman whose life ended too soon. If you want to criticize anyone's performance, it's Lili Marlene's, who I believe was not given a script before Chinn yelled "action!" The tiny set does get claustrophobic from time to time, and David (Bud Lee), the only male operator in the company, looks uncomfortably similar to Rupert Holmes. Joey Silvera disconcertingly resembles Cha-Ka from "Land of the Lost."
"The Young Like It Hot" is an awful title, and the live operators versus computers story is hopelessly dated, but the editing is quick, and the technical aspects are top notch.
Stats:
(1983) 91 min. (0 *) out of five stars
-Directed by Bob Chinn
-Story and Screenplay by Gail Palmer
-Cast: Hyapatia Lee, William Margold, Shauna Grant, Lili Marlene, Bud Lee, Joey Silvera, Kay Parker, Rosa Lee Kimball, Linda Shaw, Pat Manning, Eric Edwards, Herschel Savage, Paul Thomas
(X)
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