The Legacy (1978).

Review #2588: The Legacy.

Cast: 

Katharine Ross (Maggie Walsh), Sam Elliott (Pete Danner), Roger Daltrey (Clive Jackson), John Standing (Jason Mountolive), Ian Hogg (Harry), Margaret Tyzack (Nurse Adams), Charles Gray (Karl Liebnecht), Lee Montague (Jacques Grandier), Hildegard Neil (Barbara Kirstenburg), and Marianne Broome (Maria Gabrieli) Directed by Richard Marquand (#115 - Return of the Jedi)

Review: 

Sure, why not a co-production between the States and the United Kingdom for an original (i.e. one that actually isn't based on a book) horror movie? Apparently, Hammer mainstay Jimmy Sangster wrote the original script before further work was done by Patrick Tilley and Paul Wheeler. At the helm to direct for the first time was Richard Marquand. Born in Wales as the son of a politician, he started out as a TV/documentary director in the early 1960s. Marquand ultimately directed a total of seven films (most notably Return of the Jedi*) before his sudden death at the age of 49 in 1987. For whatever reason, the movie was released first in the UK in September 1978 and then an American release...in September 1979 (got to love a poster that actually advertises the "best-selling" book of the movie right then and there). With a budget of over $2.5 million, the movie did make some money with audiences, even if cast members weren't too fond of it; Anne Coates later stated that despite being convinced to do the film by Marquand, she felt he "clearly didn't know what he was doing at all", while Sam Elliott once called the film "fifteen years behind its time". Regardless of all the quibbles, it found a steady life on TV and home video.

With a plot that might as well have been cribbed from Rosemary's Baby (1968), The Omen (1976) and any movie involving old dark houses (with a bit of Ten Little Indians present just for the hell of it), you may get at least some entertainment from just ridiculously it all comes together in such an ersatz experience. You might be wondering, what could possibly be the "legacy" in the plot? Well, it involves six people all being invited to a rambling country estate in where else but jolly old England where odd butlers and spooky cats lurk within a few casual revelations involving, well, birthright and the craft. Somehow, within the powers of "witchcraft", escape or getting a ring off one's finger is basically impossible and somehow, a whole bunch of people start dying because, yes, six living heirs actually translates to "the Devil does in fact have takesies-backsies". It falls to Ross to try and sell the shock of not only being stuck in a strange new place (what, it's the English*) and I wish I could say she sells it, but no, it just feels like she is more on a bland trip of "oh I guess I'm going a bit nutty, that'll flush out", but I guess you could say the chemistry between her and Elliott* is curious. It just feels like a series of mild inconveniences, and sometimes I wish it was more about Elliott and his wiseass attitude towards the ridiculousness of this whole thing (imagine being told that your woman looks like someone in a painting while people are randomly dying and *then* you get stuck in a warp where you can't drive away). You wish there was more from Daltrey (as best known from his work with the Who*) or with Gray before they inevitably kick the bucket, which probably sticks out more; one dies through choking on a chicken bone and the other catches fire in a manner that makes sure the house is left totally unscathed. There just isn't a big enough ham or real villainous threat (Standing is barely present in a bed) to actually generate anything besides chuckles with seeing unsavory people getting offed. There are some pretty shots and fine gore, but it really does feel like a movie warped out of time without the energy to match. Even the ending feels too casual to actually work - imagine seeing what you've seen, climax and all and it just ends on more ring-giving. As a whole, it's a goofy little movie that doesn't exactly conjure up anything besides a few gore scenes and some offbeat conclusions to jump through by the time it concludes its tale of death and despair. It's the kind of movie you stumble onto and wonder, where the hell did the time go in all of the chuckles for such a mediocre time.

Overall, I give it 6 out of 10 stars.

Song of the day!

*A damn good movie, as I'm always prone to reminding people.

*Look man, willingly getting on a plane doesn't sound like my cup of-oh hell, throw the tea out.

*Incidentally, Elliott and Ross eventually married each other, so at least someone got a happy ending.

*The Who are neat, that's the note.

The Ghost Ship.

Review #2587: The Ghost Ship.

Cast: 

Richard Dix (Captain Will Stone), Russell Wade (Third Officer Tom Merriam), Edith Barrett (Ellen Roberts), Ben Bard (First Officer Bounds), Skelton Knaggs (Finn, the mute / The Narrator), Edmund Glover (Jacob "Sparks" Winslow), Lawrence Tierney (Louie Parker), Paul Marion (Pete a.k.a. "the Greek"), and Sir Lancelot (Billy Radd) Directed by Mark Robson (#1797 - Home of the Brave, #1931 - Valley of the Dolls, #2431 - The Seventh Victim)

Review:  

Now you might be saying, what, a ship-bound movie to look on for horror? Well, this is another one of Val Lewton's productions for RKO and it often is lumped in with his previous stuff such as Cat People (to the point where it was released alongside the others for the "Val Lewton Horror Collection" set in 2005), so why not? RKO wanted a use from the ship set they still had from Pacific Liner [1939], so obviously giving Lewton a task to make a ship-bound movie with a "Ghost" in the title sounded up his alley. It may interest you to know that for many years, this film was not available to actually see. Sure, the screenplay was credited to Donald Henderson Clarke and the story was credited to Leo Mittler, but Lewton had his key influence in shaping the film (so, uncredited work) ...and then the aftermath of the release of the film saw a lawsuit filed by Samuel R. Golding and Norbert Faulkner. Go figure, RKO somehow lost a suit for plagiarism (specifically citing the 1942 play "A Man and His Shadow") that saw the film taken out from circulation (not to be mean to Golding or Faulkner*, but nobody speaks for them and the alleged "plagiarism" case, so either the viewer is the true winner or Lewton that got the last laugh in the long run). Robson wound up directing three more movies for Lewton with Youth Runs Wild (1944), Isle of the Dead (1944), and Bedlam (1946). At any rate, since the movie fell into the public domain, it is now readily available to view anywhere you want on the Internet.

Sure, it's hard to try and go into the movie without some sort of expectation or guess when it comes to "Ghost Ship", but you really will have quite the time just going into it cold, with its 69-minute runtime not being a deterrent to how fascinating it ends up being. The horrors of being gripped at the helm of authority and wavering in actually recognizing the difference between power and authority is one thing, try being part of a ship filled with deterrence to what "seems best with the man in charge". There could be storms on the horizon, there could be danger from an unknown enemy, but damn the torpedoes, one rolls with the captain when they have made their final decision...or so one may believe. We all know at least one situation where people would probably go down with the ship (in a figurative sense) rather than ask any questions about just who is really trying to guide past the storm. We all know that one person who micromanages things with perhaps a bit too much enthusiasm, as if everything has to be drawn up and down just because they can. You can in fact be petty when it comes to holding the crew to a "standard" and you can in fact try to bury things if it comes to a head. The responsibility of holding the command and all the responsibilities and calamities that come in both body and mind goes to Dix (in one of his last roles prior to dying in 1949), who makes for a compelling presence specifically because of his seasoned nature. It may not be a big A-movie, but his imbalanced feel for the crew and what his role is in the grand scheme of his position is compelling without striking as too cartoonish, especially when shown in the non-sea trappings with Barrett in one instance. Wade had done several years of playing an extra before getting an RKO contract to be a featured guy for stuff such as this, although he would stop acting after 1948. He makes for a suitable lead to jump in to said quibbles with solid likable qualities to sell the perspective of a newcomer into a bubbling boil. The racket with Knaggs, who has a few monologues as basically a "Greek chorus" that only works best in the last sequence, honestly, and the crew (which includes a young Tierney and calypso singer Sir Lancelot) only get to show flashes of individuality (as if they've just become cogs to change in and out). By the time of its climax, as held in murky lighting to heighten the tension, all the stops have been put out in pulpy and lean enjoyment that makes it a solid Lewton (and company) accomplishment.  Melodrama, suspense thriller, horror, hey, it all can be relative in what you can infer from your own perspectives, at least when you consider the dangers that come from what is seen and unseen in the careful lighting (hooks, fights, lockless doors, what have you). In that sense, it makes for a pretty good recommendation for any type of month or occasion.

Overall, I give it 8 out of 10 stars.

Song of the day!

*Oh who am I kidding, those jerks did lose in the court of "time". Really, plagiarism?

The Invisible Ray.

Review #2586: The Invisible Ray.

Cast: 

Boris Karloff (Dr. Janos Rukh), Béla Lugosi (Dr. Felix Benet), Frances Drake (Diana Rukh), Frank Lawton (Ronald Drake), Violet Kemble Cooper (Mother Rukh), Walter Kingsford (Sir Francis Stevens), Beulah Bondi (Lady Arabella Stevens), Frank Reicher (Professor Meiklejohn), Paul Weigel (Monsieur Noyer), and Georges Renavent (Chief of the Sûreté) Directed by Lambert Hillyer (#297 - Dracula's Daughter)

Review: 

Now you might say, hey, this is one of those multi-genre movies, is it really that important to feature it for the sake of horror? With all of the "thrillers" that basically double as horror, I find nothing wrong with giving a bit of credit to one that dabbles in science fiction and horror, and, well, why not enjoy another team-up of Karloff and Lugosi? There were six team-up movies of importance between the two (okay actually it was eight, but who cares about a cameo in Gift of Gab [1934] or a comedy with You'll Find Out [1940]?), and here we are watching the one that came out after The Black Cat [1934] and The Raven [1935] (after plans to make something called "Bluebeard" stalled). Stuart Walker was the original intended director but had quibbles with the script that saw him drop out for Lambert Hillyer. Hillyer was a considerable veteran director who did westerns, crime movies and, most notably, the 1943 Batman serial (the very first time the character was on screen), going all the way to the advent of television before he died in 1969 at the age of 75. He made this movie for over $200,000 that apparently went over-schedule and budget. Universal paired Lugosi and Karloff twice more with Son of Frankenstein [1939] and Black Friday [1940]. John Colton is credited with the screenplay with Howard Higgin and Douglas Hodges was credited with the story. Stock footage from Frankenstein [1931] (specifically electrical machinery) apparently was utilized here to go along with select sets from the Flash Gordon serial that was filming at the same time (in turn, footage was later utilized in the 1939 Universal serial The Phantom Creeps). There were apparent plans to make another venture with the two with similar beats that apparently was abandoned for a few years before being re-purposed for what became Man-Made Monster [1941]. The movie starts with a foreword about scientific fact and how stuff of the current day once "burned as a fantastic fire in the mind of someone called mad" and how stuff presented here is basically a "theory whispered in the cloisters of science" that maybe someday could startle as a fact. Or something.

Okay, so there's a few scientists who hear about a meteor crash in Africa with a big mass (as told to us by exposition involving a telescope and looking back at a galaxy and such) that is in fact a real thing to go on expedition for (Karloff and five others, because obviously two wives had to come). Obviously, it means plenty of time spent in Africa (don't ask about the dated aspects when it comes to seeing the natives) before you get the realization of just how "Radium X" really is beyond, well, making stuff glow, and it is Karloff who gets to play the over-the-top adversary rather than Lugosi, go figure. The 79-minute adventure even has some time spent looking at a planetarium that actually is pretty neat to look at, possibly even more so than the actual effect (as coordinated by John P. Fulton) of making a luminous man (as done by just adding a glow). As a movie, it is pretty average, mainly because it can only go so far in actually showing mayhem involving glowing men and revenge (as represented by statues because god help us in showing more than one death by glowing - but did I forget to mention the exploding boulder?). But it's pretty neat to enjoy the company of Karloff anyway, particularly with the momentary time spent with his on-screen mother because, sure, why not? Karloff holds it together in the doomed story of a man who really can't get out of his own way with his neuroses and habits for the usual dignified type of performance. Lugosi basically had two types of performances: doctor or hammy villain, but at least here he makes for a capable man of reason who only wants to see science furthered (well, I mean besides curing blindness, which both characters do at one point) rather than quibble about paranoia. The rest of the people are fairly forgettable (who among us cares about a love story or people that either serve as side characters/dead meat?), suffice to say, with the newspaper exposition moments (who says people didn't get spoon-fed info even in the old days?) probably being the most interesting thing about them. That, or the death scene at the end where one dies before they even hit the ground (after being told off, naturally). So, you get a few neat moments of glow and paranoia to make up for a pretty standard affair, but since I enjoy the company of Karloff and Lugosi lurking around the corners of what folks loosely called horror, this is fine by me. If you liked the previous pairings of the two or just like to see either one with a fairly decent role to chew on, you'll be fine here.

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.

Song of the day!

Videodrome.

Review #2585: Videodrome.

Cast: 

James Woods (Max Renn), Debbie Harry (Nicki Brand), Sonja Smits (Bianca O'Blivion), Peter Dvorsky (Harlan), Leslie Carlson (Barry Convex), Jack Creley (Dr. Brian O'Blivion), Lynne Gorman (Masha), Julie Khaner (Bridey James), David Bolt (Raphael), and Reiner Schwarz (Moses) Written and Directed by David Cronenberg (#816 - Crimes of the Future, #1127 - eXistenZ, #1220 - A History of Violence, #1239 - Stereo, #1624 - Shivers, #1712 - The Fly [1986], #2132 - Crimes of the Future [2022], #2276 - Rabid [1977])

Review: 

 "I've always been interested in dark things and other people's fascinations with dark things. Plus, the idea of people locking themselves in a room and turning a key on a television set so that they can watch something extremely dark, and by doing that, allowing themselves to explore their fascinations."

We do love our technology, don't we? Now more than ever, the lines between reality and what we actually see for "entertainment" (television, phone, what have you) is blurred. The human body is the battlefield for what is "too far" and it probably goes without saying to consider how far the word "goon" has gone beyond its original meaning. People will believe what they see and hear from their screens, and you could figure that out in the time when people still used tapes (hell, in different future days, there were people who believed what they heard on the phone from alleged cops). One man's reality is another's delusion, and it goes doubly for how far things have moved from TV being reality and therefore reality being less than TV, as they say. Apparently, when David Cronenberg grew up in his native Toronto as a kid, he could tune into American TV signals from Buffalo in the States when the Canadian stations went off the air and the idea of maybe seeing something he shouldn't see lingered in his mind. The ideas gestated in his head (as one does when knowing about Marshall McLuhan, who taught at the University of Toronto when not being the one considered the "father of media studies") before getting a good chance to do the film with his particular growing reputation. With partial financing from Universal Pictures (it should be noted that this was the last film of his made in the Canadian "tax shelter" era) and filming in Toronto, Videodrome actually did get released to hundreds of theaters in February 1983 and promptly died in theaters, with Cronenberg once musing it wasn't an "exploitation sell [or]...an art sell." At any rate, it soon developed a cult following (various videos exist involving the making of the film, as seen here).

You get a shelter that has homeless people gather to watch television, people who communicate through a TV screen, a certain point where the lines between reality and fantasy blur, and, oh yeah, gooey body horror moments within the actual horror of what really does lurk beyond "special names" and manipulation of people's obsessions. It's not what you see that's important in terms of the "videodrome", it's the fact that reality can in fact be shattered by those who live on the screen that really matters in control. It all leads to Woods and his commanding presence in a cynic with no sense of philosophy beyond "there's an outlet somewhere" (wiser minds wondered if it was really the medium that was the message). There is a killer instinct within Woods to just make a role look so intense by the way you see him maneuver with his expressions more than anything that reaches to the heart of all with the perverse rot in one's soul (which, well, is the type that can be alluring to a certain type of stimulated person). His certain type of "soul" does go hand-in-hand with how Harry (the vocalist of Blondie who dabbled in acting such as Union City [1980], this and Hairspray) treats the world of over-stimulation and curiosity. Her awareness of craving pleasures and pain (for whatever you might read when seeing someone stuff a cigarette on their chest) is the type of alluring "question mark" (well, if you go with that from an interview with her); with so much time spent in a box, you almost could call it a virtual performance (compared to the v-tubers of the now, I suppose being told about the flesh is an improvement). In the battlefield of what airwaves are to be seen in the mind to take the bed with you, one sees the dueling sides with Smits & Creley and Carlson & Dvorsky to sobering effect, well, at least when you consider that both want to shape would-be users for a certain type of evolution. Sure, the plot of the movie is loose, particularly when it comes to really figuring just what is hallucination (full-scale, if you will) and what is the horrors of actually seeing a new type of hell (slits in the abdomen and appendages to the arm that might as well be a new type of sex organ). You just have to enjoy the ride of raveling and unravelling in stimulation to see that, yes, the video screen really can be a tool or weapon and you are living in that world right now. With an efficient pace of 89 minutes that rides the wave of grime and bleak nature of what it really means to see beyond the flesh, it's a pretty good way to unsettle oneself in the eyes of stimulation.

 

Overall, I give it 9 out of 10 stars.

Song of the day!

It begins. We're going to try and get as many horror movies as we can, which will run the gamut from franchise stuff such as Saw V all the way down to anthology picks to the oldies to beyond while having time for spectacular fun in November. Stay spooked.

The Monster (1925).

Review #2584: The Monster.

Cast: 

Lon Chaney (Dr. Gustave Ziska), Johnny Arthur (Johnny Goodlittle, amateur detective), Gertrude Olmstead (Betty Watson), Hallam Cooley (Amos Rugg), Charles Sellon (Russ Mason, a constable), Walter James (Caliban), Knute Erickson (Daffy Dan), and George Austin (Rigo) Produced and Directed by Roland West.

Review: 

I did consider doing this movie a few years ago, because why not cover a movie that was on the cusp of turning a century old? Billed in some ways as a "mystery thriller / love adventure" and sort of falling into the lines of comedy-horror, it was based on a 1922 play of the same name by Crane Wilbur (likely best known as the male lead in The Perils of Pauline that dabbled in writing/directing until the early 1960s), with Willard Mack and Albert Kenyon serving as the writers and C. Gardner Sullivan writing the titles. You get a few things that sound interesting, mainly with the "old dark house" and a few spooky things that, well, maybe would've impressed someone who didn't know anything about movies beyond The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari (1920) or even early stuff like Frankenstein (1910). West had a brief run of movies of note, whether that was his adaptations of The Bat (silent in 1926, sound with The Bat Whispers in 1930), the Academy Award-nominated Alibi (1929) or Corsair (1931). For whatever reason (divorce or the possible involvement in the death of actress/mistress Thelma Todd*), he didn't make a movie again after 1931 prior to his death in 1952 at the age of 67. The movie, while receiving a few mixed reviews, was a decent little hit upon release. As is the case with all surviving 1925 movies, it is readily available in the public domain.

You aren't going to get much in the way of, say, horror or anything other than "blithering house comedy", that's for sure. Older movie fans will find better satisfaction with Waxworks (1924) or The Cat and the Canary (1927), that's for sure. It isn't terrible, mainly because it at least has some interesting moments within its housebound elements in a dark place with odd stuff happening (such as an opening capture of someone via car wreck) that at least suggest the idea of atmosphere. It just so happens to be in a movie that constantly reminds you (with the power of "ingenuity") that it has to be "funny" and goes on and on with its "young boob wishes to make good" story that probably would've made Harold Lloyd gag. Sure, some folks will find it amusing with Arthur's antics, and some might anticipate Chaney going for the oddball scientist looking for the chuckle, but I just throw up my hands and go "whatever". Besides, Chaney doesn't pop in until the 30-minute mark, and you only really still spend time going along with the bumbling trio of Arthur-Olmstead-Cooley (for whatever reason, there are certain angles where it looks like Olmstead is looking at the camera differently), with just a few flashes of other people (no comment on the makeup used on "Caliban"). This was the kind of movie one could make when "correspondence schools" were still a thing to make random stuff up (in one instance a character gets gifted a diploma and also a gun). Eventually, through enough dilly-dallying, you get to hear about a mad scientist for more than a few seconds, complete with a hare-brained scheme about doing an experiment at last on a woman (no, not to have sex with her but to somehow transfer a dude's soul into said body). So yes, it's an absurd-sounding movie that maneuvers for 86 minutes with a hit-or-miss quality in the aims for chuckles with the tension of wondering just what lies beneath a big spooky house when the mystery wasn't something to call a cliche just yet. As a whole, if you like to go around checking out old movies with at least one familiar face and have time to kill in imagination and like to watch creaky stuff in the dark, this may or may not be up your alley. I couldn't get into its hokum, but your milage may vary.

Overall, I give it 6 out of 10 stars.

Next up: October looms for spooky season.

Song of the day!

*Well, it's not like you could find proof of it or no proof nowadays.

I would be silly to not mention a different take on the movie and, well, why not share links every now and then - The Monster (1925) A Silent Film Review – Movies Silently

Dead Heat (1988).

Review #2584: Dead Heat.

Cast: 

Treat Williams (Roger Mortis), Joe Piscopo (Doug Bigelow), Lindsay Frost (Randi James), Darren McGavin (Dr. Ernest McNab), Vincent Price (Arthur P. Loudermilk), Clare Kirkconnell (Dr. Rebecca Smythers), Keye Luke (Mr. Thule), Robert Picardo (Lieutenant Herzog), Mel Stewart (Captain Mayberry), and Professor Toru Tanaka (Butcher) Directed by Mark Goldblatt.

Review: 

Well, I suppose any film with the term "buddy cop action zombie comedy" is worth looking into, obscurity be damned. So, who's here and why are we here? Well, it was written by a first-timer with Terry Black (and yes, that is a sibling of Shane Black) that apparently saw uncredited work done by Darren Starr (the future creator of shows such as Beverly Hills 90210 and Sex and the City) and directed by a first-timer in Mark Goldblatt, who is more known for his editing (he later got an Academy Award nomination for Terminator 2: Judgement Day). What could go wrong? Oh, plenty, since this was a late-stage New World Pictures movie that basically screams "help!". Dead Heat didn't exactly gain a curious cult audience, at least when compared to Goldblatt's only other directorial credit with The Punisher [1989]; you can at least find the movie on formats beyond VHS nowadays. Black subsequently wrote for Tales from the Crypt, and he dabbles nowadays as a column writer.

I'm sure you get the picture of the buddy movie with at least two of the following: the wiseass, the no-nonsense guy, the loose cannon, the "new partner", and so on, and so on. Some are better than others with, say, 48 Hrs. (1982) over, well, stuff like this. Sure, you get your bits of things that sound different: a lead character who actually does die in the first 25 minutes (to come back to life via go-go magic resurrection device). It maneuvers itself for 84 minutes with the energy of a zombie for middling jokes, has a storyline that doesn't really go anywhere, and is only bolstered by the occasional gooey effect and seeing name actors pop in for a brief moment. It's barely a buddy movie in general because Williams and Piscopo have the smallest semblance of chemistry together, which is barely preferable to say, being stuck next to the guy at the checkout line who really needs to tell you about the bird they saw in the ceiling*. It never feels worth it to actually experience the gears turning in "gee, dead bodies coming back to be used as henchmen" because it never actively feels exciting to be anywhere near these folks, especially with Frost and Kirkconnell, who basically only exist just to elevate the body-count (which ranges from rapidly decaying resurrected people to a body exploding). Williams (likely best known for Prince of the City [1981]) just feels like he is on autopilot with this film, as if the perils of knowing one is to die a second time feels like a stubbed toe more than a real crisis (to say nothing of that wise-ass final scene).

You might recognize Piscopo from his run on Saturday Night Live or perhaps that one episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation or, well, those moments in time where he dabbled in films (being in an obscure Brian De Palma movie like Wise Guys [1986] is still noteworthy, at least when compared to Johnny Dangerously [1984], Sidekicks [1992], and, well, How Sweet It Is [2013]*). He...does not have it here to make the role anything other than an excuse to string lame one-liners together, as if he simply believes he can ride the macho wave out to be the next Mel Gibson. The highlight is seeing bits and pieces of McGavin, Luke, and Price in this shambling mess about trying to get as much money as possible from dead guys and, well, rich people because if you can't conjure a smile at ol' folks getting at least some sort of paycheck in exchange for basically the bare minimum of things to do, what's left? As a whole, Dead Heat might as well be an apt title for the whole experience: middling action, a lack of real charm for anything going on with its main two guys, and a general feeling that you can find better things to do. So it goes.

Overall, I give it 5 out of 10 stars.

Song of the day!

*In fairness, I do go to an H-E-B that does actually occasionally attract birds to fly inside. 

*Or being name-dropped in that one Tom Petty song - "Jammin' Me"

The Mummy: Tomb of the Dragon Emperor.

Review #2583: The Mummy: Tomb of the Dragon Emperor.

Cast:

Brendan Fraser (Rick O'Connell), Maria Bello (Evelyn Carnahan-O'Connell), John Hannah (Jonathan Carnahan), Russell Wong (General Ming Guo), Liam Cunningham (Mad Dog Maguire), Luke Ford (Alex O'Connell), Isabella Leong (Lin), Michelle Yeoh (Zi Yuan), Jet Li (Qin Shi Huang), Anthony Wong (General Yang), Jessey Meng (Colonel Choi), David Calder (Professor Roger Wilson), Albert Kwan (Chu Wah), with James Bradford (Jameson), and Freda Foh Shen (the Narrator) Directed by Rob Cohen (#043 - The Fast and the Furious, #924 - The Boy Next Door, #1089 - Stealth)

Review: 

"I think it's the charisma of the idea of the undead and how they are cursed because they can't be successful denying mortality. I think we ascribe powers to the undead--if something has transcended death, it can't be normal. And whenever something unsettling has power, it makes a great villain. Movies are made by great villains, not by the heroes. A movie like this depends on how bad the bad guy is, so the good guys can rise to the occasion."

You know, with The Mummy [1999] (as devised by Stephen Sommers, Lloyd Fonvielle, Kevin Jarre, which in turn was a loose remake of the 1932 movies of the same name), you could see the appeal of having a good ol' adventure within a loose deal of romance within tinges of horror, and, well, some humor. The Mummy Returns [2001]...was almost as decent. Maybe it was rushed, maybe it was a bit too hollow to really make for a quality sequel, but it was still a crowd-pleaser. Seven long years later, there was a third The Mummy movie for folks of the new millennium to enjoy. I suppose it seems timely to cover a film that won't even be considered a "direct sequel" to Returns (2001) by 2027 because somehow, someway, there is an impending Mummy movie (okay, there was that one Mummy movie released in 2026, but let's not get into that now*). By 2004, Stephen Sommers, director of the previous Mummy movies, was not keen on coming back for a third movie, feeling that it would just be too hard to make it really come together like the first two, although he did co-produce it; directing duties went to Rob Cohen*. Screenwriting duties went to the duo of Alfred Gough and Miles Millar (you might recognize them from such scripts as Lethal Weapon 4 [1998], the Shanghai movies [2000, 2003]). Made on a larger budget than the last two films (estimated at over $145 million), the movie was a mild success with audiences.

It's not exactly a mummy movie, if you want to be technical, since the Emperor and his army is actually just encased in clay as part of a curse that draws upon actual history, mainly the Terracotta Army (the real Army is a collection of ceramic sculptures of the armies of Emperor Qin Shi Huang that was buried with him in his mausoleum). Now, are we talking about archeology (because sometimes I have links for that) or we talking about a middling sequel? Honestly, I didn't have many expectations for this movie, mainly because the recasting of Rachel Weisz for Maria Bello could not possibly be a good omen for a film that will also feature further moments within the parent-son dynamic of adventure that surely isn't a discount version of Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade (incidentally, Kingdom of the Crystal Skull came out two months before Dragon Emperor). And, well, it is a pretty mediocre movie, filled with possibly even less energy between the people you want to see (our human goofballs stumbling around in the history books). But it is sometimes funny within all of the stops thrown in to try and elevate this shambling spectacle that honestly is almost more interesting than the previous movie. You get CG catlike yeti, Shangri-La (who else but crib from Lost Horizon?), attempts to look like 1946 that doesn't really look that timely, further CG amusements involving dragons, the Great Wall having a litany of dead folks coming out of it, and more within a 112-minute runtime that somehow seems rushed to oblivion. Fraser* just doesn't have that much to genuinely do besides be stuck in cartoonish dynamics with a present-only-in-spirit Bello and present-in-theory Ford, who each can't deliver anything other than tired remarks and only hints of an actual connection. How hard is it to have gone with a plan to move on from Arnold Vosloo in the whole "evil mummy with a reign of terror"? Evidently, not too easy of a plan. It isn't even worth trying to see Li or Yeoh try to pull the local flavor of "go-go mystic bullshit" because honestly, there is barely anything worth mentioning that you haven't seen in some way before in constrained drama (they are the ones who start the movie, mind you, hence the narrator credit) that goes for little charm and little everything, honestly. Hannah might as well be sleepwalking through the experience, which isn't something worth saying for the only other regular besides Fraser to be in all three movies. After a while, you really do just go through the motions of watching this movie do the bare minimum. The magic of the first movie was those folks (Fraser, Hannah, Weisz) intermixing with mayhem for actual warmth and fun. The second just ran with the spectacle at the expense of really challenging anything and the third just feels tired when undead folks are going around mowing each other down or in its evitable finish of folks getting the girl and so on. You can do better than checking out this middle-of-the-road movie.

Overall, I give it 5 out of 10 stars,

Song of the day!

*Honestly, I didn't have time to see it. Who the hell releases a mummy movie in April? Also, who the hell thought it would make sense to call it "Lee Cronin's The Mummy"? Are you kidding me? Really? Oh but it was to alleviate the confusion from other "The Mummy" movies - shit, just put the year in the title to really set yourself apart. Quibble over.

*In 2019, Cohen was accused of sexually assaulting his trans daughter as a child. Incidentally, he has not directed a movie since 2018.

*There are some movies that have future Academy Award winning actors, why not two with Brendan Fraser and Michelle Yeoh here?

Shock Treatment.

Review #2582: Shock Treatment.

Cast:  

Jessica Harper (Janet Majors), Cliff DeYoung (Farley Flavors, Brad Majors), Richard O'Brien (Dr. Cosmo McKinley), Patricia Quinn (Dr. Nation McKinley), Ruby Wax (Betty Hapschatt), Charles Gray (Judge Oliver Wright), Barry Humphries (Bert Schnick), Manning Redwood (Harry Weiss), Darlene Johnson (Emily Weiss), Jeremy Newson (Ralph Hapschatt), Wendy Raebeck (Macy Struthers), Betsy Brantley (Neely Pritt), Christopher Malcolm (Vance Parker), Little Nell (Nurse Ansalong), Rik Mayall ("Rest Home" Ricky), Eugene Lipinski (Kirk), Barry Dennen (Irwin Lapsey), and Gary Shail (Oscar Drill) Directed by Jim Sharman (#1449 - The Rocky Horror Picture Show)

 

Review: 

Sure, why not? You may remember that The Rocky Horror Picture Show (released in 1975 as based on The Rocky Horror Show) was initially a flop, mainly because, well, some people do in fact want a supposed tribute and also parody to the "kitsch" science fiction/horror movies* of the old days to actually...be interesting besides a campy facade that did not sway me beyond the most average moments (even a double-bill campus re-release with Phantom of the Paradise [1974] didn't help). But let's be fair: an idea by a Fox executive to give a midnight run gave the movie lasting cult appeal, with a good chunk of screenings in later years being joined with a live performance by a cast of fans. Returning alongside producers Lou Adler & Michael White, Jim Sharman and Richard O'Brien collaborated with each other on the script (with Sharman as director) for what basically would be a spiritual (with most of the folks returning in different roles), although Susan Sarandon did not return due to wanting more money, Bostwick did not return due to being unavailable and Curry, well, he just said no. They wanted to film in Dallas and England but the Screen Actors Guild strike in summer 1980 scuttled those plans to where it ended up being filmed in England in the fall of 1980. Production designer Brian Thomson delivered a reworking of the story that saw the film shot in a giant studio that saw him get credited for "additional ideas" Trying to get in on how Rocky Horror got its cult appeal, Shock Treatment only played in limited engagements with midnight screenings that started around late October 1981...which flopped, but there is a small enough following (even with O'Brien once labeling it as an "abortion"). Sharman hasn't directed a theatrical film since, although he has done numerous productions in the theatre and last year was appointed as an Officer of the Order of Australia.

I admit to only knowing this movie because it was covered by The Cinema Snob many years ago. So it goes. An odd-looking town is now swallowed up by a TV network studio, complete with a medical facility, that's your starting point. I really did try to go with an open mind for the movie, complete with a 95 minute runtime. I suppose it is an attempt at a compliment to say the movie is roughly around the same level of curiosity of the Rocky Horror film, but I then realize that isn't saying much because good God, I still don't have a real favorite person to watch for either of these movies. For all of the singing and all of its attempts to curtail any idea of horror for straight musical comedy, I can't stand much of these bastard people and its incessant averageness. I will say it is amusing as hell that they really tried to aim at appealing to those who were already big on the Rocky Horror stuff (specifically the ones who know the stuff by heart for a midnight screening), complete with a tagline of not being a sequel or a prequel but instead an "equal"...that basically splatted right on the pavement. Harper tries her best in trying to give something to a role that is gripped in the swaying power of would-be fame, which is sometimes curious and sometimes neat, but I can't help in thinking she just had a better time with a fellow box office failure-turned-cult classic musical comedy horror with Phantom of the Paradise; it's not so much that she can't hold it together for an ensemble, it just feels like she needs a real person to actually bounce off as opposed to being in the bin with the loons. It's entirely possible I just don't have patience for certain musicals (incidentally, you could put the film and The Music Man [1962] on at the same time and have nearly enough time to see the former again). Humphries and DeYoung basically are trying to fill the hole left from no Curry to really hold the screen together in insidious elusiveness that just isn't as pronounced as you wish it was. It's middling spoof material that begs for more than being stuck in a fishbowl setting that might as well make you wish you could drill a hole in your head to escape. Some have said that it had a predictive hand at reality TV. Well, that is pretty silly, mainly because An American Family exists, complete with an eight-year headstart that even had its own spoof with Real Life [1979]; one of the people of the aforementioned Family show even once said "Television ate my family" (at any rate, if we are talking about movies with interesting perspectives on the blurring of reality and TV, The Truman Show [1998] humiliates Shock Treatment many, many, many times over*). "Influencer culture", well, argue that for yourself, and the style for certain moments within its cloying studio is sometimes interesting, but if I don't care for the scenario or the songs beyond "okay", then it doesn't really matter what "prescient" thing has been accomplished. I honestly can't get a grasp on the characters now played by DeYoung and Harper other than wanting to throw dangle them over a pit, or, alternatively, bashing my head in. I don't care about who is supposed to be the "emotional cripple" or who doesn't know what they really are with attention focused on them, but maybe you will. Maybe it becomes the movie you see again to really experience for what it really, really means in the soul. So it goes.

 

Overall, I give it 6 out of 10 stars.

Song of the day!

*For something that wants to be campy and fun, I found more fun in actually just watching 1950s horror movies. You get more out of something like I Married a Monster from Outer Space than Rocky Horror Picture Show in entertainment value, and I will die on that hill. Besides, the former doesn't go on the "cinematic experience" of catcalls and toilet-paper throwing to get its kicks. Are you fucking kidding me?

*Okay that last film was mentioned because O'Brien apparently argued that The Truman Show certainly had some inspiration from Shock Treatment (as stated here or here). I'm....trying not to laugh.

Incidentally, here's a quote from an LA Times article about An American Family in 2003 upon the airing of a look back on the family from two of the original film crew: 

The Raymonds, whose most recent work is the HBO documentary “Children in War,” find it a “mixed honor” to be credited, as they often are, with the creation of modern-day reality television. “We don’t do shows for MTV. I don’t care to take credit for ‘The Real World,’ ‘The Osbournes,’ or [the] ‘Anna Nicole [Show],’ ” said Alan Raymond. “They’re terrible.”

Or, alternatively, a 2011 New York Times article.

 Mr. Gilbert and the Raymonds do agree on at least one thing: that “An American Family” has been unfairly credited with — or blamed — for starting reality television. The immersive, leisurely rhythms of the series are a stark contrast from the artificial situations (lab-rat housemates, gladiatorial contests) that dominate today’s reality programs. With its grainy look and distanced camerawork, it resembles an art film more than any reality show.

Drive Angry.

Review #2581: Drive Angry.

Cast: 

Nicolas Cage (John Milton), Amber Heard (Piper Lee), William Fichtner (the Accountant), Billy Burke (Jonah King), David Morse (Webster), Katy Mixon (Norma Jean), Charlotte Ross (Candy), Christa Campbell (Mona Elkins), Pruitt Taylor Vince (Roy), Todd Farmer (Frank Raimi), with Tom Atkins (Captain), and Jack McGee (Lou "Fat Lou") Directed by Patrick Lussier (#2114 - Dracula 2000)

Review: 

Sure, let's pick a movie found on one of those movie-packs*. It's not every day that you see a film with a poster that says "Shot in 3D" as if that somehow was going to be a drawing aspect beyond, say, the Avatar movies (I myself saw a movie in 3D about...three times*). But Patrick Lussier did have some success with My Bloody Valentine 3D two years earlier, so it wasn't a complete stretch (incidentally, Todd Farmer co-wrote both films, with this one being done with Lussier). Nicolas Cage was apparently attracted to the film because of the 3D format and also getting his eye shot out, so there's an endorsement for making choices for the sake of doing so. At any rate, folks arising from Hell to go on a crusade against evildoers, well, you probably saw it before in some way with Spawn (incidentally, the 1997 movie had Alan B. McElroy as a writer; he had written a script about a man going on the run from Hell with bounty hunters after him), but I'm sure you can see the appeal. Lussier also co-edited the film with Devin C. Lussier. Released on a budget of over $45 million, the movie was not a hit at the time with audiences.

You get a movie that starts with a dude wearing a chain wallet that has the (stainless banner version) Confederate* flag on it getting his ass beat by our lead character (get it, "John Milton"? what was their rejected other choice - "I. M. Hell"? "Dante S. Inferno"?). It's basically a movie for those who love over-the-top movies of sex and violence that probably would go well with something such as say, Motorpsycho (1965). I have to say: I did actually like this movie in the face of the quirks that come in: seeing it at home when you can't really feel the "3D" that was in theaters, seeing a film that kind of does just blaze the path of revenge with stiff folks rather than a shoehorned romance for 104 minutes, and lastly: a movie that seems dedicated for the sickos that think they know what "camp" or "cult films" mean. Sure, it has a more methodical performance from Cage than what you might expect (particularly with whatever you want to call that blond hairpiece), but he does carry the film pretty well with some sobering charm that makes you go with the comic book-type of ride. It's a movie with a goofy-ass gun that makes you deader than dead, who's to complain? And then there's Heard along for the ride who basically coasts on kicking some ass without dwelling on too many of the consequences that I can appreciate some of the time. Of course, the gem in the rough of the cast besides Cage is Fichtner, who essentially glides along with the creeping power of being a methodical pest on the hell-level of an IRS agent (or, in his words, one where he just had to "fill in the blanks"). I almost wish it was Fichtner and Cage paired together, going around in a cool car (hey, some folks like cars from the 1950s or 1960s) dealing with folks that try to be nerdy for Satan, but I'll accept the conceit provided in such a fun performance played for Fichtner. Burke is mostly trying to do what can only be described as "Spirit Halloween rendition of Jim Jones" and pretty much succeeds in being detestable within his conviction that you could at least see a few suckers getting into an orgy of delusion and nerd-ing out for what they think is the true power*. There are plenty of oddball moments that'll throw the viewer for a loop, ranging from casual fiancé-on-fiancé violence to a gunfight with a naked woman present or the garden variety plan to, I'm not kidding, drink from a man's skull, but I enjoyed this kind of offbeat movie. It's a film that reaches for keeping your attention (even with a middling soundtrack) with car chases and other blunt instruments that will leave some with a chuckle and others running cold. It's a guilty pleasure type of movie possibly worth checking out for the curiosity factor, at least in my mind. So it goes.

 

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.

Song of the day!

*Same movie pack that includes such Cage movies as Knowing, Joe, and, I shit you not: Deadfall.

*Star Wars: The Force Awakens (second watch), Godzilla: King of the Monsters (second time), and Avatar: The Way of Water, for the record.

*See you know the dude is going to get his ass kicked because he has a thing with the flag of the biggest losers possible.

*Look, isn't Satanism a bit more of a lame larp than actual religious people? At least agnostic people don't inspire as much cringe as the atheists do from time to time.

Underworld: Rise of the Lycans.

Review #2580: Underworld: Rise of the Lycans.

Cast: 

Michael Sheen (Lucian; Alexander Carroll as Young Lucian), Bill Nighy (Viktor), Rhona Mitra (Sonja; Olivia Taylforth as Young Sonja), Steven Mackintosh (Andreas Tanis), Kevin Grevioux (Raze), David Aston (Coloman), Elizabeth Hawthorne (Orsova), Craig Parker (Sabas), Larry Rew (Kosta), Jared Turner (Xristo), Timothy Raby (Janosh), and Tania Nolan (Luka) Directed by Patrick Tatopoulos.

Review: 

Sure, why not make the third Underworld movie serve as a prequel? You might remember that in Underworld (2003), there was this whole thing about everyday life having a group of folks around that don't like each other with vampires and "Lycans" (who among us shortens a word to make up a name), with one particular hunter getting into the funny business of finding out that vampire elders are, well, not much different from Lycans in what you might call a twist on Romeo & Juliet (okay, one person called it that at the time, but hey*). So, with the realization that Lycans were basically slaves to the vampires until they made their fight for freedom, who better to direct than a first-timer? In fairness to Patrick Tatopoulos, the Greek-Frenchman had directed a few music videos and a short before making this film as his directorial debut, having done, well, plenty of work in effects, such as the previous two Underworld films; as it stands, this is his only feature directorial effort. Here's five credited writers: Danny McBride, Dirk Blackman and Howard McCain for the screenplay and Len Wiseman, Robert Orr & McBride for the story. Things returned to normal with Awakening in 2012 (which had Wiseman return to serve as a co-writer).

Remember when the first movie had Michael Sheen and Bill Nighy? Remember when they ended up dead at the end of the movie because, well, they just had to go? It's kind of funny watching a movie with two semi-interesting people in it that can't die here but are trying to make a go of lines such as "You're a credit to your race"* and the ever-developing locale of blue, grey, blue, grey, and maybe a third distinguishable color. So, basically, it's a side-step of quality from Evolution that at least looks like they tried to make you care for the fight of independence (with just a smidge of sex on a cliff*). The cringing of knowing it stinks at least has a smile for what they tried to do in their blue-grey medieval aim. There is a certain type of charm that Sheen brings for a pedestrian type of character that I'm sure had to have been thought of as akin to Moses by at least one filmmaker (you just know someone wanted to say, "let my PEOPLE go!", be honest) that basically keeps the movie afloat with his energy that sells most of what you like to see in acts of defiance that gives some credibility to wanting to see where things are going to go. Sure, you wish there was more time with the dazzling Mitra*, because you want more magnetism to really clear a path for inevitable tragedy, but they are fairly likable to watch in the calamity of forced roles. Nighy makes for a quality adversary in the type of elder arrogance that has both cunning and one-sided vision for what is right within the land of vampires, people, and the ones beneath each (which namely involves money because what else is there to do with castles and horses). I honestly forgot that Mackintosh and Grevioux each appeared in one of the earlier movies and I feel like that indicates the quality of these goofy movies not really rising up to par with the bare minimum presented with the first movie in resembling something cool (vampires, wolves, dark outfits), but I digress. It gives you people getting hit with weapons that aren't just guns and even sees folks hurt by the sun or swords (some of them even live, go figure). You get some decent-looking effects within a fairly efficient runtime of 89 minutes that is sometimes entertaining and may likely give you what you expect in "fill-in things", which I guess is better than nothing. So it goes.

 

Overall, I give it 6 out of 10 stars.

Song of the day: September 21 edition

*Generally I don't care about gossip and personal lives, but it's kinda funny that Beckinsale met her future husband Len Wiseman when they were doing Underworld (2003)...while in a partnership with Michael Sheen. 

*Not to make a thing about it, but I can't remember if there's even a single black vampire in this film, but the Lycans sure have their guys that decided being one of them is better than being a slave.

*What, too cute of a phrase? Movie Night endorses sex and violence in horror and action movies, naturally.

*Double note: making a reference to The Ten Commandments may or may not sound a bit less cheesy than playing Tony Blair three times. And as for Mitra, hey, I still remember her time on Boston Legal because good golly.

Resident Evil: Extinction.

Review #2579: Resident Evil: Extinction.

Cast:  

Milla Jovovich (Alice), Ali Larter (Claire Redfield), Oded Fehr (Carlos Oliveira), Iain Glen (Dr. Isaacs), Ashanti (Nurse Betty), Mike Epps (L.J.), Spencer Locke (K-Mart), Jason O'Mara (Albert Wesker), Christopher Egan (Mikey), Madeline Carroll (White Queen), Matthew Marsden (Slater), Linden Ashby (Chase), and Joe Hursley (Otto) Directed by Russell Mulcahy (#2575 - The Shadow)

Review: 

“Horror films have always been a great passion of mine, so it’s great to get my hands on such a fantastic script. Visually, Resident Evil: Extinction is different from the previous two films.  The first one was quite claustrophobic; the next one was outside on wet night streets, and now, we take them out into the desert.  It has a very western feel but is futuristic, crazy and creepy.”

You might remember that Resident Evil (2002) was basically a piece of crap from Paul W. S. Anderson where the studio (as originally started by Constantin Film, who had the rights to the series since 1997) decided that rejecting George A. Romero and others was just peachy. And then came Resident Evil: Apocalypse (2004), which continued the road of going basically nowhere while namedropping a few video game character names that I'm sure fans of the series (as created by Shinji Mikami and Tokuro Fujiwara for Capcom) at least had a ball with for a second. I called it "hack spectacle" and don't really regret my assessment of a movie that spends most of its time at night. The third film of the series saw a veteran director with yet another Anderson script with Russell Mulcahy, who Anderson said had a "very distinct visual style" and apparently had storyboarded the film when he had their first meeting with the producers. For fun, enjoy this one quote from Anderson at the time of promoting the movie: "It's all part of trying to deliver a movie-going experience that satisfies the fans of the game but also provides a fun cinematic experience for a broader audience that has never played a Resident Evil game." With primary filming in Mexico (with various sets designed by Eugenio Caballero with special effects covered by Patrick Tatopoulos and his studio), the movie was enough of a hit, to, well, where Anderson ended up directing the next three movies starting with Afterlife in 2010.

If the producers really thought that these films felt like epics that were meant to keep things going for a saga of entertainment (read: money money)...they didn't really get as far as they believed with three straight stinkers in a row. Technically, this movie is the more interesting of the three because it at least simplifies things into the most obvious ways possible: crib from Mad Max (with more sand than brain cells) with the setting of the world going to hell and just hope people just go with killer crows and further "Alice is just doing this thing now because screw it" moments and at least meet it half-way. There is nothing new to really say about Jovovich besides the digital airbrushing done on close-ups because, well, it's the same wooden stuff that can't sell anything besides a few kicks even with the new development of, wait for it, multiple clones (ones seen with and without clothes) and further use of telekinesis because, screw it. There isn't much to connect one with the other besides being an action hero that can't lose and also can't make you think of them as anything other than being a pastiche of a pastiche. Larter plays it basically as the catch-all leader/buddy that makes you yearn for Final Destination (hey, you probably liked it more than me*) in actual conviction of the words spoken. The disposal of returning folks in Fehr and Epps, one in a pointless death and the other in a middling sacrifice, is regrettable because nobody really makes an impression in the film when not focused on, well, Alice (having a character named after Kmart and "I guess he does computers" is about all you get). Glen and his plan of what is basically "well, if you can't domesticate them, make a new type of zombie" is not particularly that interesting, mainly because most of the time in a locale less exciting than a board room (to say nothing of whatever is supposed to be the thing with O'Mara playing someone named Wesker that does even less).  So, yeah, it's a 5/10 in the face of such ridiculous aspects but at least you can see a movie try to break out...and not stick at anything. As a whole, the same lazy spectacle of a few decent zombie effects mixed in with middling action and an even sillier story makes for pretty much more of the same stuff you saw in the other two movies. But so it goes.

Overall, I give it 5 out of 10 stars.

Song of the day!

*Who among us doesn't get mad at a movie being a stinky bag of nothing? 

3000 Miles to Graceland.

Review #2578: 3000 Miles to Graceland.

Cast: 

Kurt Russell (Michael Zane), Kevin Costner (Thomas Jonathan "Murphy" Liebling), Courteney Cox (Cybil Waingrow), Christian Slater (Hanson), Kevin Pollak (U.S. Marshal Damitry), David Arquette (Gus), Jon Lovitz (Jay Peterson), Howie Long (Jack), Thomas Haden Church (U.S. Marshal Quigley), Bokeem Woodbine (Franklin), Ice-T (Hamilton), David A. Kaye (Jesse Waingrow), Louis Lombardi (Otto Sinclair), and Paul Anka (Pit Boss #1) Directed by Demian Lichenstein.

Review:

Believe it or not, I really was thinking of this as a potential "Acknowledged in August" candidate for some time. How could I resist? A Kurt Russell movie where he goes around dressed up like Elvis in an action flick that was a flop? How could it go wrong? Believe it or not, the original script for the film was done by a first-timer: Richard Recco, a New York electrician (as noted in this L.A. Times article of the time, which noted that he liked to paint in addition to being in an electricians union). Inspired by his love of the mystique of Elvis and thinking "hey, I could do that" when seeing an action movie, he studied the scripts of movies such as Dog Day Afternoon and True Romance for what became, well, a Hollywood movie. Demian Lichenstein (known mostly for his work in music videos and obscure movies), interested in a previous Recco script (which had been submitted into a Sundance Film Festival competition), got interested enough in the Elvis thing to where he brought it up to Kevin Costner in a meeting that got him to be interested as well. Lichenstein made enough contributions to the script by this point to where he shares the credit with Recco for the credits. The Franchise Pictures production apparently had enough creative differences to where Russell and Costner each made their own "cut" of the film to screen, with Russell focusing more on the romcom aspects and Costner doing, well, the version you see now. Made on a budget of over $47 million, the film was a substantial flop (yes, people chose Down to Earth and Hannibal on opening week), making less than half of the budget as a whole.

Naturally, the movie is set in Last Vegas during "International Elvis Week" where a bunch of robbers dress up in jumpsuits and glasses to get millions of dollars to get in and get out, and good lord, I swear this is somehow lower on the totem pole for Vegas heists than the 1960 version of Ocean's 11. How could the Costner version have passed? What fresh hell was present in the Russell "version" that things would've been better with a movie that starts with a fight between CG-rendered scorpions? I can't really say it would've been a better movie if it just focused on the heist and these robbers (mainly because it feels designed to short-change Slater, Woodbine, and Arquette*, with the latter not even being depicted getting shot to death), but good lord, this is just a listless movie to slog through, especially for 125 minutes. You could be listening to an entire Elvis album (okay I don't do albums, but even playing six of his songs would give you more of his stuff than what you get here, since they barely do any Elvis songs). Older folks might know that Russell played Elvis in a John Carpenter-directed TV movie in 1979 and also briefly acted in that Presley vehicle It Happened at the World's Fair (as released in 1963, where he kicked him in the shins). This is basically the litmus test for how much you like Russell as a presence in movies because even in crappy fare, he at least gives the idea of a neat conman more than, well, trying to stay on the level of Cox and survive the rest of the mayhem, which naturally rests on the lead surviving not one, but two gunshots because, wait for it, he was ready with a bullet-proof vest (what, never see a zombie movie?).  The most interesting about Costner's character is that he plays someone resentful of not being able to prove that they are the bastard son of Elvis. 

As I tried to shrug my shoulders at the sheer lunacy of taking that into account, I also had to try and play fair with an actor that I don't really find myself that fond of besides, what, Field of Dreams or Bull Durham* (Dances with Wolves lends credence to the theory that you can see a movie as an 8/10 but not actually love it that much)? This performance, resembling the ramblings of a homeless man (well...*), may actually make you appreciate The Postman (1997), because at least he seemed like he wanted to actually have fun with his weird ass fable as opposed to whatever the hell his deal is meant to be here. Aside from basically killing or blowing up anything that walks into his path, it reeks of a parody and yet he plays it so seriously and so joylessly that it doesn't even matter by the time the character finally kicks the bucket. There is very little energy for me to talk about Cox and the varied attempts at comedy (in a confused movie that has moms abandoning their kids to go to Idaho, because screw it), so why even try? Who cares what she tries to give in this movie? (hell, let's throw real questions: did anyone actually like Friends?) Having to spend any time with her or the on-screen son in Kaye (a precocious pickpocket kid - what a twist) probably makes a good tribute to the Elvis movies, specifically the corny parts you skip before hearing a song. So, in the unceremonious cleaning out of Slater, Woodbine, and Arquette in the first 40 minutes, you get a supporting cast (not counting Cox/Kaye because, well, no) of even more people who are given little to really do with Lovitz, Long, Ice-T, Church & Pollak, because good lord, how do you waste that much potential? There's just little zip to the lines given for basically filler (i.e. who cares about the authorities being one step behind in a movie where a robber getting away with crime basically seems certain), as if the array of editing choices (2001 era, woah buddy!) was supposed to be the showstopper. You don't care for the heist (what's to worry?), you don't care for the "romance", and you don't care for the villain, and at a certain point in the array of deaths (such as say, a "draw your weapon" one), you just want to get to the climax because at least it'll just be Russell and Costner trying to one-up each other. Simply put, what you get here is the ultimate take-it-or-leave-it stinker: not terrible but not nearly average enough to slip by for anything other than days of having absolutely nothing better to spend time with for lazy action days.

Overall, I give it 5 out of 10 stars.

Song of the day!

*Still not the best baseball movie. 

*What, who else doesn't drive to Taco Bell?

*Wrestling fans might remember this was the time when Arquette "won" the World Heavyweight Championship by this vignette, as done during the making of 3000 Miles to Graceland - WCW Monday Nitro - 1,000 Miles to Slamboree (Kurt Russell, David Arquette, Courteney Cox)

Stay Hungry.

Review #2577: Stay Hungry.

Cast: 

Jeff Bridges (Craig Blake), Sally Field (Mary Tate Farnsworth), Arnold Schwarzenegger (Joe Santo), R. G. Armstrong (Thor Erickson), Robert Englund (Franklin), Helena Kallianiotes (Anita), Roger E. Mosley (Newton), Woodrow Parfrey (Uncle Albert), Scatman Crothers (William), Kathleen Miller (Dorothy Stephens), Fannie Flagg (Amy), Joanna Cassidy (Zoe), Richard Gilliland (Hal), Mayf Nutter (Richard Packman), Ed Begley Jr (Lester), John David Carson (Halsey), and Joe Spinell (Jabo) Directed by Bob Rafelson (#2159 - Head)

Review: 

"I place a great deal of faith in the collaboration of the entire company, and in the atmosphere in which I am shooting. I try to remain susceptible to what the characters are telling me, what the weather is telling me, what the sounds around me are telling me… While I do enormous amounts of preparation, I go through a strange emptying process before I go to the stage, and try to evaporate all the preconceived notions I have about how the day’s work is going to be. I try to stay vulnerable."

Sure, let's hitchhike our way down to the other other other Bob Rafelson movie. Some might associate him with Head (1968), featuring The Monkees (of which he helped to develop), or perhaps with Five Easy Pieces (1970), or even The King of Marvin Gardens (1972), with the latter two featuring Jack Nicholson. After the release of Gardens, Rafelson found himself hitchhiking across the South. Rather than doing a movie about the slave trade (with countless time spent in libraries and apparently Ghana), he landed upon something suggested to him by a friend: a book by Charles Gaines called Stay Hungry. Sure, he didn't really care about making a straight adaptation of the book, but he felt that the "conclusions of his novel were not unlike the conclusions I had come to in both Five Easy Pieces and The King of Marvin Gardens" (of course, in the book, it ends with a death). Stay Hungry made a bit of money when it came out in April 1976, and you can safely say each of the three leads went on to bigger things. Incidentally, the actual Gaines was an interesting fellow - he was a writer and outdoorsman that could talk about the outdoors just as much as bodybuilding, and he served as one of the driving forces behind Pumping Iron (1977, as inspired on his 1974 book with George Butler), the docudrama featuring Schwarzenegger during the 1975 Mr. Olympia competitions*. Rafelson's next film was to be Brubaker, only to be fired due to having troubles with a certain studio executive (who he apparently socked in the jaw). Instead, he returned to the screen with The Postman Always Rings Twice (1981).

It's not every day you get a movie where someone decides, hey, let's steal a painting from a building for the hell of it, nighttime be damned. It's the kind of movie that makes you feel like you're on the road without actually travelling very far in any one direction. It's a freeform movie with plenty of episodes of things to go around, whether that involves the pursuit of bodybuilding (particularly at the end), bluegrass playing, hookers, women trying to do karate*, and dudes who really chase the hunger of the next thing rather than stay comfortable. That last point, wrapped in the eccentricities of what Rafelson loves to show in the "New" South makes for a movie that will please its admirers and annoy those who can't get into its 102-minute runtime. I thought it was mildly fun, mainly when it actually does find some footing with these people for warm fun, which mostly comes with Schwarzenegger*, who has a sweet sense of charm within his acceptance of being a big man in a world that likes to look (and use) big men like him for as long as they possibly could (not particularly sure what the costume worn for the workouts is supposed to really mean, but, well, that's something else). Bridges and Field have a certain type of casual nature together that sees both just dally around for the sake of dallying, where the former has to realize he needs something in his life, anything that sounds different than the usual hollow times in a big house (or drunk) while the latter can only help but speak her mind. These are folks who think that any type of different thing is better than whatever they have now (even if choosing a fling over barhopping is not particularly that effusive). Granted, this is also a movie that doesn't really paint a wide canvas of characters as you want it to do (I could take more time with whatever Kallianiotes is doing in karate, for example), but there are a handful of amusing little moments if you let the movie wash over. You get bits of wormy Spinell to go with a fairly youthful Englund, a fairly creepy (and timely) Armstrong and a climax that lets things hangout without too many definitive endings. It is a movie firmly wrapped in its time and place of a different type of South with Birmingham that moves on its own terms in ungainly but fascinating entertainment.  It's a movie for folks who want to make their own mark and think shooting the breeze might as well be the way over as long as the hunger burns. 

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.

*Did I mention that he was a co-creator of the sport of paintball? No, really. Incidentally, Schwarzenegger earned his one acting award for "Golden Globe for Best Acting Debut in a Motion Picture", mainly because they forgot that it actually wasn't his first film role: others may remember him, billed as "Arnold Strong" playing Hercules (albeit in a dubbed capacity) in Hercules in New York [1970]. He also appeared in a bit role in The Long Goodbye [1973].

*There is a rumor that Rafelson asked for Field to take off her shirt and kiss him (specifically Field said it in her autobiography). He denied this, although he subsequently did get divorced from his wife (and production designer) Toby Carr Rafelson soon after this film. So it goes.

*Orange belt as a kid, folks. Kinda fun.