Freddy Got Fingered.

Review #1604: Freddy Got Fingered.

Cast:
Tom Green (Gordon Brody), Rip Torn (Jim Brody), Marisa Coughlan (Betty Menger), Eddie Kaye Thomas (Freddy Brody), Harland Williams (Darren), Anthony Michael Hall (Dave Davidson), Julie Hagerty (Julie Brody), Drew Barrymore (Davidson's receptionist), Shaquille O'Neal (Himself), Jackson Davies (Mr. Malloy), and Connor Widdows (Andy Malloy) Directed by Tom Green.

Review:
"It’s just so often that I’ll do an interview and people say, “Oh yeah, Tom Green, the guy who made the worst movie ever made!” Meanwhile, I can't go to an English-speaking city in the world without people shouting at me, "Daddy, would you like some sausage?" Doesn't matter what city I am in the world, people will be shouting out lines from the movie at me."

Life is too short to go through a film that could either be thought of (a gross-out turkey or a secret classic. It has been nineteen years since the release of this feature, likely the most prominent ever done by director, writer, and star Tom Green, since this is the first and so far only effort in the first two categories by him. The Canadian native was born in Pembroke, Ontario, and he had studied TV broadcasting at Algonquin College while doing side work in stand-up comedy from a young age, inspired by comedians such as David Letterman and George Carlin alongside shows such as Candid Camera and Saturday Night Live. In 1994, he helped create a sketch variety comedy show with The Tom Green Show, which aired for six years with three separate networks in Rogers Television 22, The Comedy Network, and MTV He is notable for his shock humor and pranks (such as one in planking that he claims to have invented) alongside his other career in rap and talk show host (which went from being from his own house to an studio). This film was written by him and Derek Harvie, who also worked on Green's show. I state that there was an argument as secret classic only because there were (and still are) a few arguments about the film as some sort of favorite in transgressive comedy or even a "Dadist" work (Chris Rock has it as one of his favorites, for example). Sure, the film might not have been a major success with its $14 million budget, but Green has argued that it did better than it was given credit for, owing to its DVD sales alongside his theory that the box office figures were lower because people (of a certain age) simply snuck into his film after they had bought tickets for Crocodile Dundee in Los Angeles, which was released one week earlier that made double the money of this film. I would say it sounds like a reeky conspiracy theory, but now we're just comparing apples to oranges with a film that would probably use it for comedy if it could. In order to gently lower oneself into the film, I started with the so-called "PG version", which supposedly is the film cut down with a silly voice to three minutes. After all, Green has admitted to have put scenes in the film that would "make boring people leave." When it comes to beating a dead deer, one takes the cake here.

I first expressed interest in doing this film a year or so ago because of its obvious reputation if only to counteract some of the films I would see with friends at times (such as stuff like Sex Drive) to perhaps make them (or myself) mad. After all, if you can't make someone mad, what's the point? Clearly, this question might not sit as well with other audiences. So, how does one approach it? Simple: you watch it, and you either like it or don't. It is quite possible that the reaction to this film can mirror the one done to horror films at times, particularly with its attempts at shock with certain scenes that revolve from a hospital room to others involving animals or cheese. Of course, the whole film really goes on how one views its main actor for an 87-minute feature. Personally, I felt that he both made a curious feature that also wasted my time. Perhaps it is my lack of familiarity with the material from his TV stuff like on MTV (which I never really watched in the first place), but I didn't exactly have a bad time with Beavis and Butt-Head Do America (based on a show that has since died and soon to be revived twice...or three times) - that was based on two numbskulls that nevertheless made a good time. For me, it's just a silly movie that isn't nearly as good or as bad as it has purported itself to be, serving as a reminder of how much one can reach those who like to have ridiculous humor, those that want something more, and those who simply don't care. I did have moments where I giggled, but some of that really involved someone alongside Green. Supposedly, Gene Wilder and Jerry Stiller were considered for the role before Torn got it, but each thought it was offensive. In any case, I am glad to see Torn, because he turns out to be my favorite part of the film. Torn, a native Texan actor of film and television for over five decades, is no stranger to eccentric highlights in his career and life, so seeing him get to pummel Green is probably like if I watched Maidstone (1970, the film where director and noted wife-stabber Norman Mailer got hit in the head with a hammer and then bit Torn's ear) for real, such as when he drags those sausages out from the roof and then promptly wrecks a half-pipe with glee. If Green is meant to represent the ridiculous and wild side that can come from daring to dream against the usual, Torn is that voice that responds in kind, which I can't help but appreciate in all of its gruffness. Coughlan is okay, in the sense that no one could make these gags involving trying to stoke enjoyment and interest in rocket-powered wheelchairs really that much better or all-too worse. Thomas is there for a brief time as the supposed straight man before he disappears to the surprise of no one. Time is spent with Williams with pain gags, while Hall and Hagerty have puddles of moments. Oodles of cameo moments occur with Barrymore and O'Neal that obviously won't be their most humiliating appearance. Oh, but how's the movie? I think if one goes by the ratio of enjoyment to minutes spent, it is a narrow loss, one that is sometimes funny despite its tinges of obnoxiousness for what can be construed by fans and detractors alike as either ahead of its time or just a weird gross time. You have to view the film with a little balance, because if you really go by the first ten minutes, or by the first fifty minutes...yea, just don't get mad about it too quickly. It's a weird, gross film, but it will fit exactly into the perception of whoever happens to watch it, regardless of if it deserves a second watch or not.

This concludes Turkey Week. I am glad to have done eight films in seven days, even if it likely could have been even more grander. But a week it was, eh? I didn't intend to do it, but back-to-back-to-back thousand word reviews? I think it is evident that another edition of Turkey Week for 2021 is in order, but I also think there should be weeks dedicated to other interests as well, so one should stay tuned for any new points of interest. If you have any suggestions for things to cover for stinkers or other things in mind, you are always free to speak your mind - have a happy holidays, folks.

Overall, I give it 6 out of 10 stars

The Postman.

Review #1603: The Postman.

Cast: 

Kevin Costner (The Postman), Will Patton (General Bethlehem), Larenz Tate (Ford Lincoln Mercury), Olivia Williams (Abby), James Russo (Captain Idaho), Tom Petty (Bridge City Mayor), Daniel von Bargen (Pineview Sheriff Briscoe), Scott Bairstow (Luke), Giovanni Ribisi (Bandit 20), Roberta Maxwell (Irene March), Joe Santos (Colonel Getty), and Ron McLarty (Old George) Directed by Kevin Costner (#1497 - Dances with Wolves)

Review: 

"I always thought it was a really good movie! I always thought I probably started it wrong. I should have said something like “once upon a time.” Because it was just like a modern-day fairy tale — it wraps itself up with a storybook ending with the statue. You know, I thought it was a pretty funny movie set against the idea of a Superman — somebody stepping up. But in this case, it’s a very humble guy who's nothing but a liar — delivers mail and burns half of it just to stay alive. So, I like the movie."

This film had long been on my backburner for years for the key reason of my dad having it in his collection. Maybe there was just something fascinating about the films directed by Costner or in its post-apocalyptic action adventure (he never had Costner's third and as of now last work with Open Range (2003) but happened to have Waterworld, go figure). Perhaps this was seven years past due, but I can't imagine how "funny" it would have been to talk about a movie set in the future of 2013. Nay, now one can note the fact it has been over two decades since the release of a film regarded as a big flop with audiences, making one-fourth of its $80 million budget. Of course any film that had a variety of critique could also be spun to argue a small cult following for those who like to defend those from the mainstream. This was adapted from the novel of the same name by David Brin, which was initially composed of two parts with "The Postman" (1982) and "Cyclops" (1984) before subsequent publication as a novel. From what David Brin has stated about the book, he wrote it evidently to counteract post-apocalyptic books and films that he felt reveled in the idea of civilization falling...by making one about the last idealist in a fallen America, since he once described most apocalyptical media as "little-boy wish fantasies"...yea, okay. Plans to try and make a film started not long after publication, although Eric Roth's attempts at a screenplay resulted in a complete reworking of the whole plot and message. Years later, Kevin Costner expressed interest in doing the film, finding the original intent of a tale involving decency and hope without cynicism something that he could do, complete with hiring Brian Helgeland (writer of films like L.A. Confidential) for help with the screenplay (for which he and Roth are credited with). Brin knew that there would be a bit of material to be lost and meshed through with an adaptation, and he noted that some of the decisions made by them to be fine with him in the sense that they kept the soul of the main character and story, focusing more on the first third of the novel as opposed to other parts, since a glimpse at the plot talks about developments that occur in the novel involving talking computers and such. Brin felt confidence in Costner being the one to star and direct in the hope for a film that would feel like Field of Dreams (his wife, at a screening of said film, felt Costner would be right for a book adaptation) more so than Mad Max or the Costner vehicle in Waterworld (1995).

That comparison to Waterworld may prove more prescient to how once sees this film in its ultimate goal. That film was absurd and weird as an expensive B-movie, but it at least felt important to watch play out in its trappings of water without overstaying its welcome. In fact, there were a few crew members that referred to the production as "Dirt World" behind Costner's back. While Brin had his praises and reservations, at least one can be content with Brin not feeling cheated out of something that tried to honor a work rather than junking its material and disrespecting the author. He found it "flawed and uneven but ambitious rendition of my story", one that had wonderful moments and imagery despite flaws that looked better than the critics stated about despite its departures from the book. Of course the obvious similarity between critique and one of Brin's reservations becomes apparent very clearly: It is quite too long for its own good (one wonders just how much trust Warner Bros. had in not insisting further in trimming). You know, when Costner made Dances with Wolves (1990), at least one could say there was some reason for it to tower at three hours in length (a version that extends it an hour longer is a question for another day). This is not the kind of movie that needs to go on and on in its attempts at offering aw shucks hope in the vein of Frank Capra in a play against the type of story reminiscent of Mad Max. Simply put, this is a ridiculous little "fable", one that believes it is past those supposed wish fantasies with its self-aggrandizing that reeks of goo in more ways than one. It makes one appreciate the essence of making a simple movie with nuance and interest better that simply saying how much of a miracle it is to get one's mail. So, what does indeed occur in the apocalypse with hope? Oh, just folks with cars for names, couples who ask the mythic hero to help make a baby, and main characters that engage in Shakespeare with each other. Oh yeah, and Tom Petty basically playing himself. Did I miss anything? Oh yeah, a reason to find this anything other than just "eh...?" - after all, there are some fair visuals and a sometimes sweeping music from James Newton Howard to go with passable acting. One can't exactly stick a great deal of venom into what is generally just a silly way to waste three hours. Costner was quite a busy man, starring in a variety of films that revolved from highlights like the aforementioned Wolves and The Bodyguard (1992) to controversial/dubious material like JFK (1991) and Wyatt Earp (1994) alongside Waterworld. Honestly, he should have cast someone else, because all I see is a Costner performance similar to the ones he did before without as much reach. He loiters from place to place like James Stewart, and it all comes out to sap enough to make an ego tree. Patton is okay, in the sense that one is watching community theater of Shakespeare and nut-job in one. Tate is here and there with blandness, because how does one move past dreams of elevating the art of mail delivery with wood. Williams supposedly has chemistry with Costner, in the sense that if you stick two people in a cabin together for a bit, you might see something there. That, or one just rolls their eyes. Oh, but it is pretty funny to see others get bits and pieces, such as von Bargen and his useful skeptic character acting or...Petty playing Petty, if only because it just makes me wish he also sang in the film to top the cheese on the cake (or better yet, find time to listen to an album of his in full). In all, I wish there was something more interesting presented here with this film, because there is clearly something that could be made interesting with hope through dystopia, but in the end it is just too much length and sappiness to really gel into something that means more than a flicker of light. If it (or the novel) resonates with you, all power to you - whatever works best in delivering some sort of entertainment or message within certain doom.

Next Time: Welp, it's Friday, and you want to see a film from the 21st century, I'm sure. Good, because you're getting Freddy Got Fingered.

Overall, I give it 5 out of 10 stars.

Hobgoblins.

Review #1602: Hobgoblins.

Cast:

Tom Bartlett (Kevin), Paige Sullivan (Amy), Steven Boggs (Kyle), Kelley Palmer (Daphne), Billy Frank (Nick), Tamara Clatterbuck (Fantazia), Duane Whitaker (Roadrash), Jeffrey Culver (McCreedy), Kevin Kildow (Dennis), Kari French (Pixie), and Daran Norris (Club Scum M.C) Written, Produced, and Directed by Rick Sloane.

Review:

"I went to junior college to learn the basics of film making, then spent three years unlearning their techniques, because none of them applied to how the real industry works. I did have access to free school film equipment, a sound stage and post-production, so they did come in handy. They discouraged me every step of the that I should find another career to pursue, but I became a working director and was back as a guest speaker by the time I was 23."

Sometimes you just need to be reminded of why one loves movies by seeing the ones that are clearly and obviously products of a different era that turn to waste one's time. And sometimes you need to look upon different voices with their own perspective on how to make a film without being hindered by interference or a lack of money to stop someone. Sloane, a California native, aspired to be an animator from a young age, but he shifted his interest to filmmaking through study at Los Angeles City College for art and film courses. He found the films they showed to be "cinematic pabulum" (for films like The 39 Steps...), but it was the showing of one different from the others in the low-budget Hollywood Boulevard (1976) that inspired him the most, noting it as a teaching tool for low-budget filmmaking that he would utilize as a template for the films he would later make. He directed his first film with Blood Theatre (1984), a slasher/horror comedy feature. Sloane is known for his self-production of each film he does, which also includes editing and cinematography. Of course it also helped that in the days of the 1980s and 1990s there were (as he claims) "40,000 mom and pop video stores across the country, and you could get instant distribution on practically anything that was feature length." If he thinks of himself as some sort of cult director like John Waters or someone who simply wanted to make films of the taste he had as a teenager, then all power to you. Sure, the film might seem to be a ripoff of Gremlins (1984), but Sloane has stated that he wrote it before that film was released, one that on first draft would only show the eyes of the monster. Clearly there were changes made in those years, but none of them probably involved a better script.

Sure, there were numerous films that could be thought of as ripoff-I mean descendants inspired by Gremlins such as Ghoulies (1985), Troll (1986), Critters (1986), and Munchies (1987). And all of those have one other thing in common: All of them had a follow-up film, because one utterly, truthfully, faithfully needed a sequel to Hobgoblins 21 years later. I mean hey, even Manos: The Hands of Fate (1966) had follow-up films come decades later and that also got a restoration from the original workprint; personally, Hobgoblins proves that some things could deserve to take a whacking on the wayside. It may have been made on the cheap, but cheap films can still be good if there's something interesting to go with it. This is a collaterally cheap clutter of a movie, clanking at 92 minutes with clumsy queasiness. It is inconceivable, inept, inert, and a waste of time. Manos might be boring with an amateur at the helm making obvious missteps, but what we have here is a bad movie with an established director in making cheap B-movies, more specifically ones with threads of a plot mixed with hair-brained characters and effects that are exactly what to expect from looking like silk pillows. So here we are, with monsters that have one big interest: creatures that make people's biggest desire come true while eventually killing them. You know, that could make an interesting idea, one that could rely on the futility of having dreams that are either not realistic or ones that people have to strive for themselves as opposed to freaks from space. Here, we have idiots for characters, a mix of teenage clichés that don't even get the benefit of what happens to those other, better-budgeted, better-scripted (of sorts) horror films: a body-count from the main cast (one, and I repeat, one person dies in the film). Even the satisfaction of seeing those fuzzballs get blown to bits is muddled in the fact that they were kept in a film vault for 30 years by a guy guarding an old film studio because...if you can find a reason, you will personally get a letter of commendation from me. If anything deserves to be called cinematic pabulum, his film would be written in the biggest font possible with bold lettering as perhaps #1 on a piece of paper that is then set on fire while the Star Spangled Banner plays loudly in the background. But wait, why don't we do a rundown of a scene or two to really bring the point home. For starters, our main four is tiresome from the very get go, made particularly clear in a spar involving rakes and garden hoes that goes on for quite a while. Believe it or not, it was actually a homage to the final fight from Streets of Fire (1984), but even Sloane has admitted to it being the worst scene he has ever done in a film. 92 minutes cannot go by faster, particularly with a sequence involving our lead being berated for being weak (by losing the fight...to a guy in the Army) while in the background involves goofy noises. How about highlighting the fantasies the hobgoblins give out - one meets the woman (who he had been calling repeatedly) of his dreams, and nearly is pushed off a cliff, another loses their prudish inhibitions and goes to a nightclub, and the other gets to play out being a commando that gets set on fire...oh but he comes out in crutches at the end, so he's okay. But our climax involves the lead getting to do a big fight scene to prove he's a real brave man...and then the old man saves him from a hobgoblin trick.

But hey, there may be positive things to note. Sure, he made a cheap movie under his own control and it has found a bit of cult appeal when it comes to being made fun of. Mystery Science Theater 3000 made fun of the film, and Sloane liked most of what they said about his film. It reminds me best of that joke that goes about how is not owned, truly they aren't owned, as they slowly shrink and transform into a corn cob-I mean bad movie. But it is important to say that he made a moron movie, one that might as well be idiot-proofed from being eviscerated that says anything too different from what has already been said about its obvious failings. Cheap isn't even the worst of its problems, considering its vapid characters and effects, terrible execution, and all-around failure in every single category in attempts at horror, comedy, and science-fiction. Staring at a wall with droning music playing might be the better alternative then to see this once, if only because you wouldn't be inspired to write a thousand words about it. In short, it deserves to stuck in the bottom of the barrel for all time, belonging in the pits with filmmakers like Coleman Francis and James Nguyen. But hey, at least he gets to make films that he liked when he was a teenager on his own dime...so that means something for someone.

Next Time: Believe it or not, it's one long on the backburner to cover. The Postman (1997).

Overall, I give it 0 out of 10 stars.

Lost Horizon (1973).

Review #1601: Lost Horizon.

Cast: 

Peter Finch (Richard Conway), Liv Ullmann (Catherine), Sally Kellerman (Sally Hughes), George Kennedy (Sam Cornelius), Michael York (George Conway), Olivia Hussey (Maria), Bobby Van (Harry Lovett), James Shigeta (Brother To-Lenn), Charles Boyer (the High Lama), John Gielgud (Chang), and Kent Smith (Bill Fergunson) Directed by Charles Jarrott.

Review: 

"A picture of hope, of faith with a spiritual quality. We all need that with the pressures of the world... Everyone's looking for a place that has peace and security."

Sometimes one does not know where to start and stop in their pursuit of a movie Shangri-La. The 1933 novel by James Hilton (who had eight of his works turned into films), had been adapted into a film previously by Frank Capra in 1937. While it was generally received well at the time, it did not recover its $2 million budget for a few years. Incidentally, the same year that this film was released, the 1937 film was first being restored by the American Film Institute. The funny thing is that there is so many hands here known for better things. We have past and future Academy Award winners with Kennedy, Finch, and Gielgud. We have a B-movie actor-turned-dialogue director-turned producer in Ross Hunter that was known for films like Pillow Talk (1959), Thoroughly Modern Millie (1967), and Airport (1970). We have a director in Jarrot that received a fair bit of notice with Anne of the Thousand Days (1969) and Mary, Queen of Scots (1971). Composer Burt Bacharach and Hal David were a classic partnership in contributing songs together. And then...Hunter never produced another theatrical film after this, while Bacharach and David never worked together again. At least writer Larry Kramer (writer for Women in Love (1969)) came out of the affair well, in the sense that the money for doing it helped keep afloat for several years (he would become a playwright the year this film was released along with activism in the gay community alongside AIDS awareness).

An adventure can be tough at 150 minutes, but this is a musical fantasy adventure, which means one is in for incredible pain if it is done terribly. Would you be surprised to hear that this did not prove well with audiences? Bette Midler called it "Lost Her-Reason", and there isn't much in the film to argue against that. For the first thirty (or so) minutes, one is seeing a straight-laced adventure, as it has to set up its trappings and characters with clichés-I mean personality with flaws to inevitably confront later on. In that sense, it probably could have been an interesting adventure film that could have updated itself with finding a place of inner peace with the secrets that lurk within. And then Gielgud shows up, fur costume and all, to help usher them into their strange little utopia, complete with a re-used set (castle) from Camelot (1967). There might be a chance at a scene involving characters having a conversation, whether that involves a thought process over meeting the Lama or just about why it may be futile to think about smuggling gold out of paradise. Of course that can't happen, because it is a musical of the worst kind: one that doesn't know when to shut up. Simply put, the songs aren't too particularly interesting, the music to go alongside it is too sickeningly sweet to go alongside the fact that only three actors actually sung their lines (Kellerman, Shigmata, and Van). Of all the things to make a musical, why would you take an adventure like this and make a musical of it? The funny thing is that this was already tried: In 1956, the book was turned into a musical in Shangri-La (with Hilton credited for co-contribution to the book and lyrics), where it promptly ran for 21 performances on Broadway. The film was the last of a line of musicals that received a roadshow release, done after the boom of films like Mary Poppins, My Fair Lady, and so on (Pete's Dragon (1977) was evidently the last one to have such release).

I hope Finch (noted for films like A Town Like Alice (1956) and Sunday Bloody Sunday (1971)) liked what he saw from being the head of a dignified mess. After all, most of his "songs" are through internal monologue, for which he isn't singing them, but that's...better than the others? Worse? It is wooden all the way, but that is technically better than the star-studded clunkers following him. Ullmann (famous for a variety of roles, mostly with director Ingmar Bergman) acts in theory with the idea of sweet charm, dancing her way through dubbed songs with stiffness expected from casting non-musical actors for a musical. Now, now, Kellerman did in fact do her own singing and dancing, but that doesn't exactly leave her with more dignity in a Saturday school special type of acting fit for such a silly character, one that looks like she wants to be anywhere else but here. Kennedy is just as baffling, because one would almost think they should have tried for camp, but yet here we are with strange choices all the way through. York plays the strangest character present in both book and film: the skeptic, which he doesn't do well with in the least, probably because however legitimate his concerns with an obvious utopia are, he can't really do much with actually carrying this to anything worthwhile - besides, he is meant to be the brother of Finch's character, and the age difference between them is 26 years (!) - they might as well have been playing father-and-son. Hussey (most famous from Romeo and Juliet (1968), a film long sought to cover) falls to the wayside in silliness, mostly because one is more curious to see how the effect will go when the secretly elder one will age outside of the mountain...it ultimately reminds me of a peanut, which is pretty amusing. At least Van, a musical actor known for productions like No, No, Nanette and others for two decades, is somewhat right for what is needed in comic relief and singing, although one almost wonders if he would've been better as the lead somehow. Shigeta (who also did his singing like Kellerman and Van as a pioneer for leads for Asian Americans alongside TV and singing) seems sorely lacking, one who needs more to do than to just help shepherd these bread-like personalities through utopia silliness. This was the third-to-last role for Boyer, acting in a chair to some effect for like five minutes in a film that seems to have not updated itself one bit from films of Boyer's era. Gielgud later described his role as an "idiotic walkabout", one that seemed to not let him really act alongside noting his slight shame in taking the film to help in money problems. Being wrapped in a warm fur costume and a dubious script without having to sing and get paid for it? Sure, why not. There are technically highlights, in picking out the silly moments besides the hokum that comes through with such pallid singing, but my favorite is near the end, where Finch and York are travelling slowly away down the mountain, trying to keep up with the guides and they yell at them to slow down...which promptly leads to an avalanche occurring over the guides. The other little nugget comes from when Finch tries to go back in the end, and a brief song happens after he apparently reaches it - I just like to pretend he actually just when snow-blind again. On the whole, there is very little to like from a film that deserves all of its notations of turkey classification in how silly it all proves to be within an intolerable 150 minute run-time, ineffective execution of songs and dance, and its lack of anything meaningful to make a worthwhile adventure in utopia that merits needing more than one adaptation of the original material by Hilton. In short, it sucks.

Happy Thanksgiving. Next Time: Thirsty for more? It's time for Hobgoblins.

Overall, I give it 3 out of 10 stars.

A Place for Lovers.

Review #1600: A Place for Lovers.

Cast: 

Faye Dunaway (Julia), Marcello Mastroianni (Valerio), Caroline Mortimer (Maggie), Enrico Simonetti (Party Host), Karin Eugh (Griselda), Esmeralda Ruspoli (Attorney's wife), and Yvonne Gilbert (Marie) Directed by Vittorio De Sica (#1436 - The Garden of the Finzi-Continis)

Review: 

As the saying goes, sometimes the ones who make the best stuff can make a mistake somewhere. If you look up classic turkey films, the usual pattern sticks with a number of those films, namely in folks with talent backed up by bad execution/budget, or others who specialized in clunkers. But Vittorio de Sica? He sticks out like a sore thumb when it comes to having a clunker in his lineup, particularly with previous classics like Shoeshine (1946) and Bicycle Thieves (1948). Of course, not every film was a grand affair of neorealism or effective somber tone, such as the case with films like The Last Judgement (1961) and After the Fox (1966) that did not sit greatly with audiences. In any case, the best way to sum it up is that directors can have highs and lows like the actors that are present to be there on screen. In this case, it is strange to see Dunaway and Mastroianni, both no strangers to being in films directed by memorable names (with this being the third collaboration between De Sica and Mastroianni).

The big problem is that this is a film (a Italian-French production that is in English and Italian) with sloppy foundations everywhere, not the least bit when it comes to the fact that there were six credited writers: Brunello Rondi, Julian Zimet, Peter Baldwin, Ennio De Concini, Tonino Guerra, and Cesare Zavattini, which was based on the play Gli Amanti by Rondi and Renaldo Cabieri. How do you have that many cooks in the kitchen and not realize how silly it all it seems? We have a film that gradually reveals its little trick: It's a romance with one of the folks having a terminal disease. Exactly what disease is unclear, and the fact that Dunaway only seems slightly in "despair" means it is probably one of the quietest quick-killing diseases in film history. But hey, there would be plenty of time for films with star-crossed romances with terminal diseases in the following few years such as Love Story (1970) and Bobby Deerfield (1977). Somehow, despite the fact that Dunaway and Mastroianni apparently fell in love with each other during production, they don't really seem to generate much passion on the actual screen itself. Dunaway isn't terrible, in the sense that she seems just as determined to make it all count as she would in better films from this era like Bonnie and Clyde (1967), but being hamstrung by clunky writing does not help. Maybe it's the gulf of differences between Mastroianni and Dunaway that make it ultimately offbeat (with the former being 17 years older and each being more familiar with their native countries than international stuff like this). The best way to sum up his performance is in a little scene involving Dunaway not wanting pity and he expresses that he only wants her love: which he naturally does while raising his voice and saying it over and over again. Sometimes one would prefer to look past the window and hope there isn't a volcano about to erupt over all this goo.

Everything feels so strangely lifeless, where the magic touch of seeing people find something within the other person feels like being on a very long elevator. Am I watching a puppet show? Because these people sure don't seem very "real" to me, and one almost wonders if the strings are going to fall off with how wooden they all are. Simply put, De Sica made a misfire of a film, one that aims for touching melodrama but instead hits the back end for a slop-inducing mess, one that may look really nice with its scenery but sure is dull with or without the background. The best benefit is that it is only 88 minutes I guess, but it really doesn't have much of an ending to seal itself with, not seeming like the bittersweet pull it seems to aspire for - I must admit that I was curious to see if it really would show one of them die...if only to see the offbeat "cause of death" listing that would either be the mystery disease or falling off a cliff. But then again, there really isn't much of a vibrant middle of the film. But wait, there really isn't much of a vibrant and useful beginning either, since there is a consolidated cast of merely two to focus on, and the result matches the confusion reflected in one scene, where they get into a "fight" and then make up in front of everyone that seems as ridiculous in film as it might seem in real life. There are fair positives to list, in the sense that I can't trash this completely: it is nice to look at sometimes, probably because at least De Sica knows not to just put them in a backlot with tacky clothing. So at least one probably mute the movie and just guess what they are saying in those 60s clothes...and Ella Fitzgerald contributes two songs. Actually, just listen to the songs instead, because turkeys don't really get much better as they age, one might say. In a sea of De Sica films to choose from (one could find this online to purchase/stream, since it doesn't really look like it got a proper video release, but if they look between the lines, they might find a dinky print somewhere for less), this might be suitable only to see how far one can go in patience in romance.

Next Time: You desire something with more punishment? Too late, it's time for Lost Horizon (1973).

Overall, I give it 4 out of 10 stars.

Killers from Space.

Review #1599: Killers from Space.

Cast:

Peter Graves (Dr. Douglas Martin), Frank Gerstle (Dr. Curt Kruger), James Seay (Col. Banks), Steve Pendleton (FBI Agent Briggs), Barbara Bestar (Ellen Martin), Shepard Menken (Major Clift, M.D.), John Frederick (Denab and The Tala), Jack Daly (Powerhouse Supervisor), and Ron Kennedy (Sentry Sergeant) Directed and Produced by W. Lee Wilder.

Review:

If anyone has to do a turkey from the 1950s, you better believe it is going to be one that either has something to do with space or was made on the cheap. How about a film with both qualities? W. Wilder, the (slightly) older brother of Billy Wilder, served as director alongside producer through his company Planet Filmplays. Believe it or not, this was actually his second career, since he was a handbag manufacturer with his own line before deciding to take up filmmaking after he had turned 40, starting with producing for The Great Flamarion (1945) before making his first of ultimately sixteen films with The Glass Alibi (1946). His son Myles co-wrote the film with William Raynor; Myles would write six screenplays for his father, and four of them fell into the genre of either science fiction or horror that W. Wilder utilized for half of his output in the 1950s (quickly made films for release with United Artists or RKO, which he did five of). One working title evidently was The Man Who Saved the Earth, which is more or less just as generic as the actual film title.

As a whole, what we have is a middling movie of mediocrity, and you can see it all for yourself for free as it is in the public domain, with one version even having green tinting (?). Graves (the only person to have starred in films for both Wilder brothers) is fairly wooden, but the film is giving him the minimal stuff to begin with, confronting the truth of what happened to go with his colleagues bringing in the FBI and such. Probably nobody could make being spooked by rear-projected insects seem really something big, I suppose. While Graves did eventually find some level of fame with the espionage show Mission: Impossible a decade later, he isn't exactly bringing the tight compact thrills the script (sort of) wants to bring to deliver enjoyment. On the other hand, at least it makes it easier to appreciate his subsequent work with a weird-looking monster in It Conquered the World (1956). Gerstle and the crew of skeptics move just as well in pedestrian contribution to the wood community of acting, and the voices for the aliens...well, let's just say they make an interesting contrast to their visual effect. The aliens come through at the 34 minute mark, and suffice to say they are not a particularly great effect. Makeup artist Harry Thomas described the effect at coming from the top of plastic egg trays (with the help of a screwdriver to get them off and pierce the center for eyeholes). Of course he also wanted them to have flesh color edge of the eyes with beards and "vacuum" speaking, and if the production wasn't so cheap they wouldn't have balked at having glass eyes. The other amusement comes from their big threat: Once there is enough radiation from a nuclear test (because they run on energy), they will take over the planet with their giant monsters (which just happen to look like enlarged footage of insects and animals). This of course is revealed through truth serum, after a plan to leave the plans to the atomic bomb test under a rock (!) failed...Anyway, the rest of the film doesn't show the googly-eye boys up close (unless one counts a head shot), since they already showed us the master plan (I guess all the other planets they conquered didn't get the memo). Can you count a run-time of 71 minutes if at least two minutes are just Graves looking at footage of spiders, grasshoppers, and lizards? But effects aren't everything, one will say. If the film that came from such...interesting effects was any better, you may have a hidden gem in your hands. Unfortunately, what we have is a bland film that only seems notable because of eyeballs and an alien abduction story that others have noted to seem like the predecessor to "alien abduction" stories. Just because your story seems familiar to those conspiracy theory-I mean "true" stories about being taken away by aliens with big eyes on a table with weird procedure stuff doesn't mean you get extra credit (for fun, I will throw out a concept of a shadowy group...shall we say, The Company, that wants to make street signs less easy to read for the insurance money and come back to it in 30 years to see if anyone believes it). As a whole, it's a bit too quiet in the department of actual thrill or even interesting concepts with its title characters to be worth much more than just to view the big plastic egg tray aliens try to go to town with giant insects. But hey, as a 1950s turkey, it feels right at home for those looking for that particular requirement.

Next Time: A Place for Lovers.

Overall, I give it 4 out of 10 stars.

No Orchids for Miss Blandish.

Review #1598: No Orchids for Miss Blandish.

Cast:

Jack La Rue (Slim Grisson), Hugh McDermott (Dave Fenner), Linden Travers (Miss Blandish), Walter Crisham (Eddie Schultz), MacDonald Parke (Doc), Danny Green (Flyn), Lilli Molnar (Ma Grisson), Charles Goldner (Louis, Headwaiter), Zoe Gail (Margo), Leslie Bradley (Ted Bailey), and Richard Neilson (Riley) Directed, Written, and Produced by St. John Legh Clowes.

Review:

In fairness, this film is only notable to really get around to covering because of the furor it inspired with contemporary critics of the time. The film is based on two sources: the original book, which was originally written by James Hadley Chase in 1939, and the play of the same name that was adapted by Chase and Robert Nesbitt in 1942. The original production ran at Prince of Wales Theatre in the West End for a brief run that had starred Travers in the lead role. Somehow, the play received better notice than the film eventually proved to have. The film starts with a listing on an "A" [Passed for Public Exhibition to Adult Audiences] rating, which would mean that someone under 12 couldn't watch it. Some of the critiques at the time even mentioned that when decrying the film as "salacious". Actually, let me rewind that a bit, because even the book had a bit of critique at the time for its violence and sensuality, where even George Orwell (essayist, journalist, and famous writer of works such as Animal Farm and Nineteen Eighty-Four) made an essay about it. To add on to that, the Chase novel was inspired by another novel involving "salacious" material with Sanctuary, written by William Faulkner in 1931 that involved a kidnapping of a college girl with bootleggers in the South alongside other seedy elements. Incidentally, Sanctuary also had its own film adaptation in The Story of Temple Drake (1933) that had La Rue in the lead role, and a further adaptation of the book alongside its follow-up book was done in later years, while Chase's novel would also receive a further film adaptation with The Grissom Gang (1971) by Robert Aldrich as director. In any case, this was the third and last film directed by Clowes, with the most other notable contribution being his play Dear Murderer (1946), which was turned into a film by others the following year. One alternate title was actually called Black Dice...creative in decadence, surely. Apparently, while the film was a hit with British audiences, it has never been shown on British television.

Look, the book had a blurb on the front that said it was "the toughest novel you'll ever read", so is the film really that surprising? Actually, the real surprise is the fact that the film really isn't that bad. Is it over-the-top and weird? Oh you bet, but that doesn't mean this is exactly horrific in its crime of daring to make a gangster film, albeit one that tries to sell a mix of British and European actors (save for La Rue) as Americans in a New York affair. Was this really something so bad that led to a publication calling it a "sickening exhibition"? Sure, the film tries to sell a kidnapping-turned-romance with a variety of plot twists and lines that are cliché to the maximum effect, but this isn't exactly what I call gruesomely disgusting. With lines like asking to soften up and given one a tumble, it has all the markings of a classic trashy gangster piece, complete with numerous examples of violence and raw energy that don't lift for its ending. What's to hate about this? I don't care for romance films like Twilight, but I didn't exactly call it sickening. If this had been done in the following decade, one would be wondering how similar in tone it sounded to Kiss Me Deadly (1955, which happened to he directed by Aldrich), which had a government commission decrying its effect on young viewers. The crime presented here is how easy this does well at being a B-movie. The acting is a blend of mediocrity, but that seems like part of the charm: La Rue and Travers are stuck in a tawdry script that puts them together: in that regard, Travers does well with her wavering nerves of grace, one that makes for plenty of posh quivers and swoons in a role near the end of her career before retiring. La Rue is fine as well in that tradition of gangster-ese acting that wants to play tender too, one supposes. Others are weird in placement, such as McDermott (a golfer-turned-actor) and his narc-type acting with a character that nearly distracts from the climax, while Molnar's maternal gangster presence is quirky enough to work. Crisham and Green make for good goon folks to go with refined Parke and others. For 102 minutes, what we have is a movie that might as well serve as unintentional parody, with a considerable count of bodies falling in a variety of ways (namely shooting) that nevertheless has a keen appeal to keep watching anyway. It might have been a bit much (or perhaps enough) for certain groups in 1948, but it has a place for itself regardless to be remembered. It is a strange, unusual movie that will make one look back on their noirs and romance and wonder just where this film got all of its weird hang-ups from each genre from.

Next Time: Killers from Space.

Overall, I give it 7 out of 10 stars.

The Terror of Tiny Town.

Review #1597: The Terror of Tiny Town.

Cast:

Billy Curtis (Buck Lawson), Yvonne Moray (Nancy Preston), Little Billy Rhodes (Bat Haines), Billy Platt (Jim 'Tex' Preston), John T. Bambury (Pop Lawson), Joseph Herbst (The Sheriff), Charlie Becker (Otto the Cook), Nita Krebs (Nita), George Ministeri (Armstrong), Karl Karchy Kosiczky (Sammy), and Fern Formica (Diamond Dolly) Directed by Sam Newfield (#436 - Dead Men Walk)

Review:

“When I was first offered the role of the sheriff, they didn’t want to pay my established salary. Then we were all directed like we were children. Small, in the minds of stupid people, is kiddie stuff. So first they try to exploit little people. Then they patronize you. And when the picture comes out, then the audience laughs at you. Why? Not because we were low budget, because most westerns then were Bs. Because we rode ponies. What would a person my size ride – a stallion? I played the good guy who put the bad guy behind bars at the end – just like John Wayne. And I kissed the pretty girl – just like he did. So what the hell’s so funny?”

Truly, I can say without any doubt in my mind that you have not seen anything like this. A Western with music? Sure, you have seen that before, particularly with saloon scenes...but have you seen one with an all-dwarf cast? No, you have not, unless you like to specialize in the smallest of the barrel public domain features, or you just happen to like something offbeat. Supposedly, the film was inspired by a comment made about with a continued low economy, filmmakers could have to use "midgets for actors." The film was directed by Sam Newfield, who while not exactly known as a great director was known for one thing: making movies and making lots of them. From 1933 to 1958, he reportedly made over 200 feature films, with his foray also including shorts and other various B-projects, which were generally spent with Producers Releasing Corporation (also known as PRC Pictures; his brother Sigmund Neufeld generally served as a producer on those films), where he even made films under a fake name to hide his considerable presence over PRC films. In 1938 alone, he made fifteen feature films. Incidentally, One film he had done with Jed Buell the previous year was Harlem on the Prairie (1937), which featured popular singer Herbert Jeffrey as a singing cowboy in the first black Western musical. With this feature, it was made for roughly $100,000, and it managed to find itself distributed by Columbia Pictures, and Buell actually wanted to make a whole series of films with dwarf actors, including one about the Paul Bunyan myth...wrap your head around that. Fred Myton wrote the film, with Clarence Marks providing additional dialogue, which is who one can cite for such...interesting dialogue, such as referring to "big orders" or "getting smallpox from him", and so on and so forth. If one can get behind occasional songs (I am generally not familiar with the singing cowboy archetype), including some dubious dubbing, here is...an offering?

Honestly, the only reason to even think about the film at all for coverage is to wonder exactly how far they will go with this film about a dwarf Western. Oh you better believe they drag themselves all the way to the natural conclusion, reflected by its 62 minute run-time. Did you ever want to see people ride Shetland ponies? Or how about entering a bar by going under the door? Welp, here's your big chance to see all that and not much else in a pretty stale feature. You may or may not get a weird chuckle at seeing anyone ride a Shetland pony for a short moment, but it is such a blandly drawn out affair, reflected by repetitive music and a plot that goes exactly the way one will see coming in its first 20 minutes (by that point, you're already a third in, so why quit?). There may be "jokes" present, but it is wrapped under such stock blandness that a usual B-movie cast would result in nearly the same film (but hey, this one has "half-pints in 10 gallon hats!" - an actual tagline used on release), mostly because Placeritos Ranch (in Placerita Canyon, California) probably wouldn't seem so vast in size here. Curtis was once described as "handsome" alongside "quite arrogant", mostly because he had quite a bit of success when it came to vaudeville (he would act for roughly 50 years before his death). He, alongside Rhodes, Bambury, Herbst, Becker, Krebs, Ministeri, Formica, and O'Docharty, would later have parts as Munchkins in The Wizard of Oz (1939). Everyone is pretty flat here, but at least he was proud of his role (as stated by that quote listed here, although its last statement isn't actually accurate - the bad guy dies due to dynamite exploding on him). They might not be great actors, but at least no one seems like they want to clown for scenery points (although Becker is used for silly moments, like trying to chase a duck down for food). Although presented as part of Buell's company of little people, a selection of the actors were actually part of Singer's Midgets, a performing troupe formed by Leo Singer that had popularity in its time of the early 20th century (this was also the case for The Wizard of Oz, which had over a hundred dwarf actors featured). Would you call this exploitation? Aside from a bubble of slapstick humor and a weird little opening that talks about the "novelty picture" one is about to see, everything is done with cut and dry size, which means it is best suited for those wanting to watch something curious that will be weird without thinking they are watching some actor or crew is being treated terribly. Is it the worst film ever? Of course not, but it sure is a turkey film, bland in all but its main sticking point to be remembered for after eight decades. Truly, a stinker can come in all shapes and sizes.

Overall, I give it 3 out of 10 stars.

Surprise! There has been a diverse bit of films covered over the month of November in the prevailing years, although according to my records the first one to be covered on Thanksgiving Day was Bon Voyage, Charlie Brown (and Don't Come Back!!) (#489, in 2013). Home Sweet Home (#669, 2014), and Monster A-Go-Go (#756, 2015) followed, but its time for something interesting to mesh with the whole week leading on from Sunday to Saturday: Turkey Week, which will be dedicated to films with the reputation of being a "turkey", for better or worse. The goal is to feature at least five films from today until the 28th, and the surprise is to not know what is coming too far in advance...with the next one being: No Orchids for Miss Blandish (1948).

The Housemaid.

Review #1596: The Housemaid.

Cast:

Kim Jin-kyu (Dong-sik Kim), Ju Jeung-ryu (Mrs. Kim), Lee Eun-shim (Myung-sook), Um Aing-ran (Kyung-hee Cho), Ko Seon-ae (Seon-young Kwak), Ahn Sung-ki (Chang-soon Kim), and Lee Yoo-ri (Ae-soon Kim) Directed, Written, and Produced by Kim Ki-young.

Review:

"When you autopsy human nature, black blood will flow out. That is what we call desire."

Under different circumstances, perhaps this should have been done months before. But it is possible that discovering a film and waiting to give it a spotlight is just as worthy when it comes to discovering a key piece of Korean cinema. This film, alongside its director, is held up by several prominent directors as an influence on their own careers. One influence of Bong Joon-ho's modern classic Parasite (2019) was in fact this film, and he described the director once as his mentor, citing his films as "grotesque and bizarre but great", and it is considered by some to be one of the greatest films from South Korea. His films, particularly those released in the 1960s, have been referred to as part of what has been referred to as the "Golden Age" of Korean cinema, with one nickname of his being "Mr. Monster". His films have been argued to have a distinct focus in realism and expressionism within either society or within the inner world. Kim was born in Seoul and raised there for the first few years of his life before moving into Pyongyang, where he developed an interest in writing and medicine. He planned to be a dentist, studying at Seoul National University, but his interest in the theater sprung into focus at that time as well. He graduated from the university not long before the Korean War broke out, with him serving first as an intern at a hospital, but it was a meeting with Oh Young-jin (who was part of helping with Korean News by the Bureau of Public Information) that got him a chance to do newsreels for the United States Information Service. He spent a few years with the service before utilizing excess material of film stock and camera to make his debut feature with expired film stock and a manually operated camera from the U.S.I.S. to make this debut feature in Box of Death (1955). Kim was described as writing his films away from home, listening to the murmurs from his neighbors for at least three months while in a hotel (his films were generally financed by his wife's dental practice). This was his ninth career film, and he would make 32 overall films before his death in 1998. His reception in Korea and abroad varied in the years after the 1960s, but he managed to experience a revival of sorts just before and after his death with retrospectives, and it is a thankful opportunity that we can even watch this film, since a portion of the film was considered lost until found in 1997, with subsequent restoration occurring thanks to the Korean Film Archive with help by the World Cinema Project.

Sometimes one can only marvel at the claustrophobia of the middle class with films like this. It is definitely clear to see the influence that this had on Parasite (2019) in its clear-cut tale of obsession within a movie that can be thought of as a psychological thriller or even horror (the basic core elements will seem familiar for home invasion connoisseurs). It is one that could be construed by the regret of someone who simply desired a bigger house...or maybe not, depending on one's perception of its ultimate conclusion with a certain wink to the audience for that they see. It moves forward in unsettling its audience through the art of gradually peeling the layers back in chills within the confines of home that still strike a chord today for their relevance in human nature that can pervade those who are not careful enough to curtail certain obsessions. In short, no one is who they seem in terms of their life in society versus at home when it comes to interactions, where the pendulum swings between fragility and cruelty at any point in time, with no one really being spared in the display of striking imagery in depressing detail. One starts with the family in Kim, Ju, Ahn, and Lee. Each have their own crucial part to play in setting up the illusion needed in the opening parts, whether that means squabbles between siblings or worrying about the state of needing to keep up with their own wants and needs. Kim does well with playing the frustration that comes with a mix of insecure authority, one wracked with what tempts him that at the very least is understandable to us (if not easily sympathetic). Ju captures anxiety as the other main figure in the film (reflected in what the film needs to show of her in comparing herself before and after childbirth), a reflection just like Kim in the unwieldly meshing of home and the workplace that gets jolted into trappings of fear. The strangest thing about seeing Lee Eun-shim's performance is the fact that it was her debut role that essentially proved her most iconic in a short career. She described the process of her performance as one where the director (who saw something "extraordinary" about her in her hire) helped to demonstrate how to act. If one searches the Internet, they might interpret her short career to her iconic femme fatale role typecasting her in the perceptions of Korean audiences, although she did have a few roles in the latter part of the 1960s before leaving acting on her accord to be with her husband in Brazil. In any case, it is a devastating performance, one that never leaves your attention whether on or off the screen, a perfect rendition of star-crossed craven nature. Um is the last piece of the puzzle in her own nature shared with Kim, cloying but right on target with establishing the layers of obsession and paranoia needed. With a 108-minute run-time, one can enjoy the film for its measuring of society dealing with its unsettling look upon human nature with a Gothic sensibility that makes for quite a shocker for its ending in more ways than one, which he would go back to in two further films in Woman of Fire (1971) and Woman of Fire '82 that updated the premise, and a remake was done in 2010. It reflects its time with no sense of being trapped there with soothing expression that delivers disturbing results from a director that achieved what he wanted to say in all the right ways that still permeates cinema and its native country after 60 years.

Overall, I give it 10 out of 10 stars.

Wall Street: Money Never Sleeps.

Review #1595: Wall Street: Money Never Sleeps.

Cast:

Michael Douglas (Gordon Gekko), Shia LaBeouf (Jacob "Jake" Moore), Josh Brolin (Bretton James), Carey Mulligan (Winnie Gekko), Susan Sarandon (Sylvia Moore), Eli Wallach (Julius Steinhardt), Frank Langella (Louis Zabel), Austin Pendleton (Dr. Masters), Sylvia Miles (Dolores the Realtor), Vanessa Ferlito (Audrey), and John Buffalo Mailer (Robby) Directed by Oliver Stone (#095 - Wall Street, #1090 - Platoon, #1265 - Natural Born Killers, and #1523 - Any Given Sunday)

Review:

"When I made the movie I thought greed was NOT good. But I learned people really like money. They like to make money. They will even admire the villain with the money - even when he breaks the law."

What, another sequel to a film from the 1980s that came out over two decades later? Truly, we live in an age of the comeback. At least this time around it features the return of not only one of the main stars but also the director again in Oliver Stone. He has had a variety of stages to his filmmaking career that have distinct edges revolving from films involving Vietnam (such as Platoon) or his biographical dramas (such as Alexander), and this is his 18th feature effort along with his first-ever sequel. The original Wall Street (1987) film, which Stone co-wrote with Stanley Weiser with inspiration from Stone's father being a broker during the Great Depression. It was a film that raged against the excess of the times in greed and ambition (which owes to the inspiration drawn from several corporate raiders) that nevertheless inspired others to become stockbrokers themselves. The seduction of one into money seems to be limitless if one just slides under the lines of what we consider to be the rules of right and wrong, you might say. Honestly, I grew up with this film on my shelf as one I admired in curiosity, and I find that it still stands well in its staying power about greed and its acting from Michael Douglas alongside Charlie Sheen (since Stone has noted the latter as the one contributing the meat of the film, namely in the family dynamic with his father Martin). Stone wrote the original film with Stanley Weiser, but the sequel would be written by Allan Loeb and Stephen Schiff (whose last writing credits included The Switch (2010) and True Crime (1999), respectively)

So here we are, with a film made on the heels of a generation growing up as essentially the children of Gordon Gekko. Stone wanted to make a film that is a reckoning about our obsession of money as a society. Honestly, the curiosity to do this film lurked in the shadows for years, and it only grew with the viewings of other movies about the financial crisis of 2008 in The Wolf of Wall Street (2013) and The Big Short (2015). While it may not be fair to compare this film to those subsequent ones, you could cite the fact that each of those subsequent works had come from books already published by 2010. It sure is a surprise to see the end-result from Stone: a soft, average production, more of a glossy puddle than anything, a middling movie in the parts that matter most: genuine interest. For 133 minutes, one wonders exactly where it is going to end up in terms of its supposed cat-and-mouse game between Douglas and LaBeouf, which only goes to show just how much more captivating it was the first time around. Simply put, the pulpit has been converted into a stool, with a sprinkling of financial information in trying to make speculation the curiosity to spring around with. It is just an empty experience, where one doesn't seem to really gain or lose much by viewing it and its details that seem more like a PowerPoint presentation relying on sprinkling of style (particularly with some choice editing, where one scene has a phone call and a bubble showing up) to make up for less passion. Even its attempt at promoting fusion energy come off as ridiculous, complete with a presentation about what it could be in potential for clean energy...sure. Its hostility is instead a bag of corn. Douglas is the most enjoyable part of the film, even if he is sprinkled throughout - for example, he shows up briefly in the opening before not showing up in full again until the 30 minute mark; honestly, he serves as the best part of the film, mostly in his molding of former nasty greed showman into buy-my-book showman that hasn't changed all of his spots. While his best moments might be in the latter half for empire building, there is at least a subtle joy to seeing one scene with Charlie Sheen again, mostly to see the tides of time pass by (the sprinkling of other cameos, including Stone himself, are probably not as effective). LaBeouf, freshly established in the past few years with franchises like Transformers and Indiana Jones (for better or worse) falls squarely in the middle ground of interest. He exists to do another game of pseudo son-father figure with Douglas and Brolin that is seems more in search of an idea than a real representation of anything. The melodrama with Mulligan (who is okay) reflects this especially, sopping wet in syrup that slows the film in its bewildering act of "I hate my dad, but I like someone who does things like him". Brolin makes what he can with a mild substance kind of adversary, packed with some slime to various effect. Did you know Sarandon is the film? Honestly, you might be able to forget she is even there with a whole two or three scenes spent in vagueness about the housing element that seems to need more desperation, honestly. Wallach, a veteran of stage and screen for 65 years, is quietly effective, moving along in the background with character presence and an improvised whistle while Langella is there for the first half to set the wheels of "payback" in motion. For me, the film is like assembling a game of Uno to play without all the cards present or a rulebook to properly play the game, which eventually results in a process of missing passion and ultimate disappointment. Others may find something more worthwhile despite is flaws, but it is easily more preferable to stick with the original Wall Street film instead.

Overall, I give it 6 out of 10 stars.

Alien Resurrection.

Review #1594: Alien Resurrection.

Cast: 

Sigourney Weaver (Ripley 8), Winona Ryder (Annalee Call), Dominique Pinon (Eom Vriess), Ron Perlman (Ron Johner), Gary Dourdan (Gary Christie), Michael Wincott (Frank Elgyn), Kim Flowers (Sabra Hillard), Dan Hedaya (General Martin Perez), J. E. Freeman (Dr. Mason Wren), Brad Dourif (Dr. Jonathan Gediman), Raymond Cruz (Vincent Distephano), Leland Orser (Larry Purvis), and Tom Woodruff Jr (Lead Alien, Alien Queen, and the Newborn) Directed by Jean-Pierre Jeunet.

Review: 

It is a funny thing to think about the progression of the Alien films. The original film, released in 1979, was a great experience in chilling horror that had its striking power created by inspiration from writer Dan O'Bannon (who co-wrote it with Ronald Shusett) to basically do a horror version of Dark Star (1974) that took inspiration from a variety of sources that revolved from The Thing from Another World to the writings of H.P. Lovecraft that combined with the talent of director Ridley Scott and creature design by H. R. Giger made for one of the best films to ever invade the genres of horror and science fiction. Aliens (1986), directed by James Cameron, moved itself into action sci-fi with particular influences being Robert A. Heinlein's novel Starship Troopers alongside the Vietnam War that ended up making a sequel just as good (if not better) as the original feature. Alien 3 (1992), directed by David Fincher, was a depressing failure in every sense of the word, full of potential that went off the rails to the point that its director disowned it. That film ended with the death of its lead character, and yet here we are, with a cliche title to boot. The film was written by Joss Whedon, whose previous writing credits included Buffy the Vampire Slayer (1992) and Toy Story (1995). Asked how he felt about the film that resulted from his script, his response is probably the most amusing part of the film, as he thought that it "was mostly a matter of doing everything wrong". In any case, one should really begin with director Jean-Pierre Jeunet, who had an interest in cameras as a teenager in France. He did animation, advertisements, and music videos before entering feature films with Delicatessen (1991, the first of two collaborations with Marc Caro) at the age of 38. This was his third feature film effort and only Hollywood production  (Jeunet's next feature in Amélie (2001) proved more fruitful and is arguably his most famous effort). He was picked after other potential names like Danny Boyle and Peter Jackson rejected the offer (the latter found it hard to find enthusiasm to do an Alien film. Not surprising, honestly), with freedom granted to do his own film without too many studio notes involved. There exists an extended cut that restores a few scenes to the film, although Jeunet has stated the original version is the preferred one by him.

Here we are, with a movie that has a fundamental flaw in its premise: Ripley is cloned, with blood samples collected before she died. Somehow, her DNA is mixed with a Xenomorph queen that means she has a embryo in it to raise. So Ripley now has more strength and semi-acidic blood to go along with a link to the aliens. All of this, including the idea that someone wants to exploit the Xenomorphs for further use, is beyond ridiculous. 200 years after the third film, and there's still weirdos trying to play fetch with killer creatures? In the end, should anyone be surprised that this is such a bland movie? The aliens seem to have taken a hike in terms of actual scares (particularly with its offspring at the climax), and the pop-ups of close-up shots at times only serve to make a confused movie that can't seem to figure out exactly what it wants to be. It is too murky in its design beyond just muddled spaceships and attempts at humor, and it all boils down to the idea that only doesn't really care about what's happening at any point. They run around corridors and yell, but who cares? Actually, its even stranger, because the amount of people who come out of here alive is almost more than the entire amount of the other three films combined (six, as opposed to the four here). The acting doesn't really do many favors, not so much because they do awful, but it is more that they can't really hold the film up to anything other than wooden space fare. Weaver is undeniably the most interesting presence, in that the idea of making Ripley one with perhaps splintered loyalty to either human or alien-kind could have potentially made a useful premise to go on, with a hardened edge and less dialogue keeping things semi-interesting. The sequence with the failed Ripley clones is the most effective scene. Ryder does not fare as well, seeming miscast when it comes to trying to keep up in presence when it comes to supposed mystery (i.e. "she's a robot!", following in the tradition of the first two films) that results in wires of wood. Pinon (a regular in Jeunet's films) does okay, and Perlman seems to be enjoying himself in ham-fisted ham, at least (he shoots a spider at one point). Dourdan and others seem too stock to really make a useful impression (Hedaya and his examining the brain before death doesn't count), unless one counts bewildering in the case of Dourif, who spends separate scenes with his face near the glass of an Xenomorph and calling a new baby alien a "beautiful butterfly". And Whedon blamed the execution of his script? No, I think the failure of the film falls on everyone's shoulders starting with Whedon. He wrote five endings! And none of them were actually used, believe it or not. Can you imagine what could have happened if there had been a fifth film on Earth? Weaver wanted to see a good script before doing another film, and perhaps it shouldn't be surprising that there wasn't a sequel done - where else could you go? The next film to involve the Xenomorphs wouldn't be done until the crossover film Alien vs. Predator (2004). Beyond a silly way to bring back Ripley and the Xenomorphs, there is just a fundamental lack of scares and/or thrills to really inspire anything other than a bland 109 minute experience that proves that some film franchises just need to stay un-resurrected. 

Overall, I give it 5 out of 10 stars.

Get Smart.

Review #1593: Get Smart.

Cast: 

Steve Carell (Maxwell Smart), Anne Hathaway (Agent 99), Dwayne Johnson (Agent 23), Alan Arkin (The Chief), Terence Stamp (Siegfried), Masi Oka (Bruce), Nate Torrence (Lloyd), Dalip Singh (Dalip), Ken Davitian (Shtarker), Terry Crews (Agent 91), David Koechner (Larabee), James Caan (The President), David S. Lee (Ladislas Krstic), Bill Murray (Agent 13), and Patrick Warburton (Hymie) Directed by Peter Segal (#466 - Nutty Professor II: The Klumps, #826 - Naked Gun 33 1/3: The Final Insult, and #1066: - The Longest Yard (2005))

Review:

If there is anything that the last few years have taught me, it is the value of finding television series from the past to look upon from start to finish and enjoy in all of its values, whether that means comedy or something else. Get Smart (created by Mel Brooks and Buck Henry) ran for five seasons from 1965 to 1970, with Brooks having a desire to create a "crazy, unreal, comic-strip king of thing about something besides a family", alongside the fact that the late 1960s had a boom in spy shows (with programs such as The Man from U.N.C.L.E. and The Avengers). It featured Don Adams as the main star, who was mostly known for his nightclub and television work prior to playing the role that made him an TV icon in Maxwell Smart. Barbara Feldon and Edward Platt co-starred in the show to the benefit of numerous humorous exchanges. 

The funny thing is that they already made a film adaptation of Get Smart, with The Nude Bomb (1980, having only Adams). It did not succeed well with anyone. A TV revival film and a short-lived revival series followed in the next few years, both having Adams and Feldon star among others (the revival had Andy Dick as a star - it did not succeed well with anyone). And yet, here we are, having to rely on the director that gave us the worst Naked Gun film. Sure, Peter Segal isn't a terrible director, in the same way that if you cloned ten of him you may end up with one possible movie of theirs that will actually be really interesting to view for laughs. This is not that time. Perhaps it is a coincidence that the film seems tedious by the first 25 minutes, because you could simply use that time to watch one Get Smart episode instead. Sure, the show did have its moments that don't quite age well (there are quite a few stereotypes present at certain episodes), but generally there was plenty to enjoy when it came to the bumbling efficiency portrayed by Adams that went with the clever clear-cut Feldon and the long-suffering Platt. What we have here is a joke of itself, mediocre in every which way with all of its obvious jokes that goes to show how much a modern comedy really can make you question the validity of time itself when it is 110 minutes long. The movie may not have a laugh track like the show, but it sure seems to play way too much for obvious moments way too much, and it manages to be excruciating in its attempt at mixing action and humor, making what was generally a comic spy show into an action spy comedy - for heaven's sake, the Austin Powers series wasn't even this bumbling in its stupidity. Incidentally, both feature at least one joke involving a fat suit - get it, because Max was fat, but now he isn't, truly the bastion of originality when it comes to updating old material to the modern age...if you are 12 years old. But hey, how many directors featured on Movie Night have had four consecutive stinkers featured?

By this point in time, perhaps Carell seemed like the exact choice for a bumbling lead, as he had managed to do well with The Office since its premiere on television in 2005 - at least when the show actually utilized him for worthwhile moments of humor as opposed to dumb gags. Little Miss Sunshine (2006) only furthered that curiosity. Here, he just seems mired in a lame situational role, where gags involving him seem to be easy to call out a few seconds before they actually happen. He seems trapped here, sorely missing that certain brazen charm that Adams had brought to the role that means more than just saying a line from before and hoping it sticks (having him be a bumbling rookie rather than just an established bumbler also doesn't gel). In other words, saying "would you believe..." is only really funny when the right timing comes along with it. The same goes for Hathaway, who only succeeds in making one realize just how Feldon did so well with silky smooth confidence that played really well with Adams on the show. Here, it is liking watching two actors engage in "Baby's First Action Comedy", one where you could almost replace one of them with a wax dummy and probably not notice half the time. She seems to deserve better here, because one doesn't find anything here to really find funny besides the occasional eye glance. It is all cliché with no fiber behind it. Johnson is okay, in the sense that if the film needs something with self-assured charm that he can deliver it, but anything else is too murky for him (the same can be said for anyone really, but I digress). Arkin does lend a laugh or so with an otherwise middle-ground imitation of what was done before, which is also reflected with Stamp (who isn't exactly trying to impersonate Bernie Kopell). Oka and Torrence supposedly are meant to be an amusing duo as side characters, but watching my cat mess around with cords is more amusing to take note of. At least Singh has it easy, since he doesn't talk much. Actually, the one real sticking point I can use to point out the contrast in TV and film is in Koechner, who while seeming like a decent comic presence in other films is sorely the wrong one to make comic antics come across with what the show brought to spies - it wasn't high brow stuff, but it surely had more to do with quirky joy than the pale action tones with sprinkles of jokes present here.

There were quite a few silly scenarios present in the show, why don't we recall some of them: One involved protecting a prince that needs to stay fat to still be prince, and there were countless ones involving smuggling (such as through dolls, circuses, and parrots). Here, writers Tom J. Astle and Matt Ember have merely caught a shell of what was done before, winking too much at itself with attempts at humor while its obvious attempts at capturing action feel flat. Would you believe...that there was an intent to make a sequel? Would you believe...that Carell wrote his own script for it? Would you believe...nobody really had interest to do a sequel? The answer to all these questions is a yes, with my condescension landing especially hard on the latter question, because this was a tiresome sit to really do. One could be generous when it comes to its attempt of comedy and action, but in the end it all comes down to preference with adaptation and the overall success rate of actually making a worthwhile successor to what was done before. In this case, there is no ray of hope in the proverbial sunshine to be found here, with a film that is a mundane malfunctioning modern-day mediocrity in of itself. You might say they missed it by that much - in this case, by a mile.

Overall, I give it 5 out of 10 stars.

Bill & Ted Face the Music.

Review #1592: Bill & Ted Face the Music.

Cast: 

Keanu Reeves (Theodore "Ted" Logan), Alex Winter (William S. "Bill" Preston, Esq.), Kristen Schaal (Kelly), Samara Weaving (Theadora "Thea" Preston), Brigette Lundy-Paine (Wilhelmina "Billie" Logan), William Sadler (The Grim Reaper), Anthony Carrigan (Dennis Caleb McCoy), Erinn Hayes (Princess Elizabeth Logan), Jayma Mays (Princess Joanna Preston), Hal Landon Jr (Captain Jonathan Logan), Beck Bennett (Officer Deacon Logan), with Kid Cudi, Amy Stoch (Missy), Holland Taylor (The Great Leader), and Jillian Bell (Dr. Taylor Wood) Directed by Dean Parisot (#237 - Galaxy Quest)

Review: 

“We wanted to ask, ‘What would happen if the things that you were told your life was going to be about when you were a teenager turned out to be wrong? How would you cope with it if you based your whole life on it? How would you deal with the disappointment? And how can we make that into a movie that is absurd and silly and embodies the buoyant spirit of Bill and Ted?"

To borrow a phrase liberally, perhaps it would be most excellent to start at the beginning. The genesis of what became Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure (1989) came from a routine done by writers Ed Solomon and Chris Matheson in 1987. The routine involved (what else?) but two teenagers who need to pass a history test that resort to collecting historical figures. The development of going from a potential sketch in a film to a feature-length film only resulted in one real change: having them also be recruited by figures from the future to stay together as a band to unite mankind. There were plenty of moments that involved them saying "bogus" or "excellent!" to go around, although it is weird to try and look back upon its place among teenage hijinks films of its time (it proves superior to offbeat films like Weird Science and Heathers, that much is for sure). It is a silly, charming little movie, with no illusion of being anything other than just good ol' entertainment (I mean, this is a film where they go back to the 1400s and end up with girlfriends). Any movie that has a group of friends just having fun without needing to verge into philosophy beyond having an excellent adventure is probably going to turn out fine. With Bill & Ted's Bogus Journey (1991), Matheson and Solomon had them meet Death alongside evil robots of themselves. So basically, it was a fine sequel, continuing the tradition of hyper-real sincerity from Reeves and Winter, although the odds of either retaining their 8/10 ratings is 50-50 at best. Perhaps it is the fact that these are such light enjoyable movies that proves an interesting paradox: who saw a third film coming if two seemed enough? I saw the original two films in 2010, and the strangest thing is by that point the wheels were turning to make a script for a new film. It seems only fitting to see an 80s product find new life again, but it actually took several years to even find producers willing to do it...and then of course 2020 meant that the film received a simultaneous release in select theaters and video-on-demand.

So here we are, a film with the same two writers in Solomon and Matheson (in their fifth collaboration together), with the same main stars in Reeves and Winter together again. Each have had their own place in film in the decades that followed those films, whether that means an action presence (past and present) for Reeves or filmmaking (and technology advocate) with Winter. In a long, strange year, sometimes one really can't go wrong with a little bit of comfort filmmaking. It doesn't come off as a complete re-hash of what has been done before because it presents the ultimate contrast to the happy go-lucky folks from before in one way: hitting the reality of middle age, which it does fine without seeming hollow. It is probably just as goofy as the other films, even if it may not perhaps be all that it is cracked itself up to be with its attempts at staying excellent when it comes to nailing humor all the way through and through. It proves endearing for those who desire one last ride with some enjoyable presences or perhaps from those who like to see something with a bit of syrupy appeal for music "to unite the world". It all depends on how much luster still shines with Reeves and Winter at the helm. For the most part, they seem just fine in fitting right back into these roles, mainly because time hasn't seemed to wither them in cynicism. Reeves is calm but just as well-placed as usual with a breezy role that while not his best performance (since one can be spoiled by his run with John Wick) is at least on the target. Winter proves just as on balance when it comes to zippy charm within silly situation and the occasional effects shot (since both of them spend a bit of time together traveling forward in time...to themselves). It's obvious to see their engaging chemistry with each other that has made for a most interesting wholesome kind of trilogy, really. The action doesn't stop with them, since Weaving and Lundy-Paine make up their time count as the well-cast descendants to mirror Winter and Reeves without seeming like stale copies, having a decent chemistry with each other in rallying their own story with other figures. Schaal (taking the place set by the late great George Carlin in the previous films) does alright here, having a quiet usage in exposition and the occasional quip. Sadler, showing up only in the latter half (of a 91 minute film) arises to useful returns, in that it is nice to see him and his attempt at a light Death once again. Carrigan does what one can do with an insecure role, which is to say not too much. Others come here and there with mostly fair presence, in that no one is entirely distracting from what goes on (even if it is a cameo, as is the case with one appearance), which result in a movie that moves from point to point with at least some cohesion for a gag without pleading for it (although its effects can distract from that at times). Inevitably, it all rests on how much of the journey to find "that perfect song to unite everybody" really means to the person who ends up watching it. It's like an old sock that has come back from the wash ready to be done again after a long wait, with a hole looking to come out somewhere that nevertheless still gets worn for enjoyment anyway. The future is yet to be written, but if one needs a movie about two cheery friends staying together once again to get involved in time travel antics and music, you can't really go wrong here. In a year like this, that may surely prove more than enough.

Overall, I give it 8 out of 10 stars.