The Substance.

Review #2355: The Substance.

Cast: 

Demi Moore (Elisabeth Sparkle), Margaret Qualley (Sue), Dennis Quaid (Harvey), Edward Hamilton-Clark (Fred), Gore Abrams (Oliver), Oscar Lesage (Troy), Christian Erickson (man at diner), Robin Greer (nurse), Tom Morton (doctor), with Hugo Diego Garcia (Diego, boyfriend), and Yann Bean (The Substance voice) Written and Directed by Coralie Fargeat.

Review: 

"“It’s really a movie about our bodies and about the reality of how we feel in our bodies. I needed to speak to the reality of the way our flesh can reflect our mental deformation, and I knew this had to exist for real.”

Honestly, I probably should've tried to make the trip to see the movie when it was new. I vaguely remember checking a showing for this particular film a city or two away from where I was when it was still in theaters...and, well, sometimes it seems better to wait for it to hit DVD like the champion for physical media that I strive to be. In honesty, I didn't really know anything about Coralie Fargeat prior to going in with this, but I'm sure her first feature Revenge (a rape and revenge action thriller released in 2017) was something I should've paid attention to. She wanted creative freedom for her next film to go along with casting and arranging a movie that was quite a venture to do when it comes to prosthetics and the like. Apparently, the movie was originally signed to be distributed by Universal Pictures (through a deal with Working Title) but go figure, a few film executives (take a guess at the gender) did want to release it as is, which led to Mubi acquiring rights to release the movie, which resulted in what you might call a bonafide hit; the movie was nominated for five Academy Awards and won one for Best Makeup and Hairstyling.

One of the things I will say is that for some odd reason, certain parts of horror actually makes me have a laugh when seeing the execution of, well, the guts of a movie. I probably enjoyed this movie far more than if I had seen it in a theater with people if only because I had such a good time from the get-go looking at the absurdity that comes with the obsession we have with women's bodies at all costs. We care so much about how an ass looks because it's real to them, damn it. I joked once that it had been a while since someone tried to do a movie about a woman so obsessed with trying to turn back the clock that they would take anything to get it back with The Wasp Woman (1959)*, and that was a bit on my mind when watching this movie, but I really should've tried to guess that the movie would remind me the tiniest bit of Being John Malkovich (1999), a movie that technically is also about someone trying to manufacture a life away from the one they are currently inhabiting, complete with using a larger-than-life image of its star at a certain juncture (why else would one feature a large picture of a younger Moore?); one had a film tag about being someone else, this one asks about being a better version of yourself. I probably should see or mention movies that also apparently come up such as Death Becomes Her (1992) and Seconds (1966). In short: we have a fairy tale kind of movie that can be as horrifying as much as it can be darkly amusing by the time it closes its 141-minute runtime of messiness about the way we can rip ourselves apart when it comes to image that is captured in gloriously symbolistic ways. The movie coasts along on visuals and vibe more so than trying to get too invested in, well, the substance within the substance (if you think about it, by doing this process, one is stuck in a place in perpetuity when having to await the next delivery week after week while only getting older and older). For all we can try to be in united for others in helping and promoting people...we really can rip the hell out of each other when the opportunity presents itself. We can hate each other just as much as we can hate ourselves and what we look like because some people really do crave love like it was crack. It just so happens we have a quality trio to hold the movie up when it comes to listening and hearing just what we see in one's self-image as we move through the tunnel of light. I'm probably not as familiar with Moore as I would like to admit.** However, she pulls off a tremendous performance, one who manages to sell the visceral pain that comes with being so alone in a body that can only go so far and be so much before it all snaps. Having to be caked in makeup of varying levels (turning the idea of playing a role a decade younger than they actually are on the head) is quite the endurance test for anyone, and Moore handles it with the type of grace that can only come from someone who clearly is committed to the material in knowing what it all is about when wrapped in a business built on flesh and bone that can be comprised of truth and plenty of lies (consider that we never see her interact with anybody that seems like an actual friend). Qualley matches her with a burning intensity and energy that is hypnotic to see play on screen in the furor that comes with youth and trying to control oneself in maintaining an image at all costs, particularly since we sure see plenty of Moore and Qualley in skin that probably says more about us that we'd like to admit (such as living through others, perhaps).***

And then of course there is Quaid, who was cast a few months into preparation for the film because the original choice in mind (Ray Liotta) died. Suffice to say that it is interesting to see Quaid here.**** He manages to evoke a type of disgust and excess that is so easy to see in our actual everyday lives and make it strangely amusing to see pop in from time to time, particularly with the camera angles used to see him (consider the shrimp eating scene to how he is seen by the end). I can certainly see where one might wonder just where the film could've ended, because technically there are two other ways to envision film before it splatters its way to the final realization, but then I say to myself: is there really such a thing as going too far in horror? The answer, to those with the skin to say it, is no, no, no, and hell no. I sometimes wonder when rating a movie to hopefully not come back to it later and think it was a tad too high...but this is the kind of movie where I wonder if I will like it more the second time around (when I can just say some of the highlights without spoiling the curiosity for those who haven't seen it) because of the visceral delight I had in seeing it, one that manages to make one see and hear the horror (and darkly amusement, in my mind) that comes with the body and we would do for perfection. Fargeat clearly likes to experiment with what she wants to make for films, and I look forward to seeing what might lurk next for her as a whole.

Overall, I give it 9 out of 10 stars.

Starting now, I'm just going to put some notes down here rather than waste space on parenthesis.  

*I was wondering a bit what Corman would've done in trying to ape off The Substance for a knockoff, because you could certainly lean in on that theatricality.

**Well, Mr. Brooks (2006) was okay. Interestingly, I had considered Striptease (1996) for Acknowledged in August in 2024 but, well, Showgirls seemed more suitable, suffice to say.

***I applaud anybody who likes to make a movie that actually goes ga-ga for gore and/or nudity because duhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

****(speaking of movies I dragged my feet on, I actually thought about seeing him in Reagan [2024]...if the movie was actually as ridiculous at it sounded).

 

The Long Riders.

Review #1625: The Long Riders.

Cast: 

David Carradine (Cole Younger), Keith Carradine (Jim Younger), Robert Carradine (Bob Younger), James Keach (Jesse James), Stacy Keach (Frank James), Dennis Quaid (Ed Miller), Randy Quaid (Clell Miller), James Whitmore Jr (Mr. Rixley), Kevin Brophy (John Younger), Harry Carey Jr (George Arthur), Christopher Guest (Charlie Ford, Nicholas Guest (Robert Ford), Shelby Leverington (Annie Ralston), Felice Orlandi (Mr. Reddick), and Pamela Reed (Belle Starr) Directed by Walter Hill (#1072 - 48 Hrs, #1091 - Last Man Standing, #1139 - Supernova)

Review: 

"I'd been dying to do a Western for years. I just like 'em. There's a kind of an idyllic quality that surrounds the shooting of them, it seems like a more fundamental film process, more to me what movies are about than clearing crowds off a city street."

The legend of outlaws has spanned a variety of media for over a century, and it is the intrigue of seeing the Old West and all the storytellers that can come from it that make it an interesting curiosity. Whether it is the ballad, or the dimestore novel, or the Western, there always seems to be an interesting idea waiting at the barrel for someone to make seem fresh. There had been various perspectives on the James legend, with one of the more recent films done before this one being The Great Northfield Minnesota Raid (1972), so it would only make sense for yet another adaptation of the James legend (of which there were at least fifteen prior to 1980), albeit with a twist - brothers playing brothers. The idea for the film came about after James and Stacy Keach had starred in a production on television together nine years prior, in which they had played the Wright brothers. James had the idea to play Jesse, while Stacy came up with financing as producer and financer for the play that James wrote. It was briefly staged in New Jersey and Off-Broadway, but they eventually decided to make it into a film for each of them to be involved, and they enlisted the help of Bill Bryden and Steven Phillip Smith to develop the screenplay (the Keaches would also serve as producer alongside Tim Zinnermann). Enlisting the Carradines came in the form of J.Keach approaching Robert Carradine during their time in the production of the TV film The Hatfields and the McCoys in 1974 about being involved with the film, and they soon approached David and Keith with the prospect of doing it, which they eventually agreed. The Quaids came after that, but finding the fourth group came after a bit of turnover, as the Bridges brothers (Jeff and Beau) could not do the film due to schedule conflicts, and it later fell to the Guests (incidentally, the Bottoms family of Joseph, Timothy, and Sam wanted to star as the Youngers). Interestingly enough, a Carradine had already been involved in an adaptation about the legend of Jesse James and Robert Ford, as the eldest Carradine in John (who had four of his sons become actors) had played the latter subject in two films with Jesse James (1939) and The Return of Frank James (1940). That particular film was noted by Walter Hill as the best film made about the Younger-James brothers in terms of character truth, even if the historical accuracy was low.

United Artists agreed to help produce the film if they found a suitable director. Walter Hill certainly fit the mold of a man wanting to tell a good story. The Long Beach native grew up with an interest in film from a young age, although he once thought of being a comic book illustrator before he went into writing and eventually directing in order to tell his own stories. He has described his films as "rather retro", with his genre films generally trying to capture a serious framework within action that take inspiration from Sam Peckinpah among others - after all, he had worked with the director with The Getaway (1972); the clearest influence seems to be The Wild Bunch (1969), particularly with its use of slow motion for certain sequences of violence. Most (but not all) of his films can be argued to have elements of the Western genre, since Hill has noted his liking of complexity with a foundation on simple stories (Hill has argued they are essentially Old Testament morality tales), and this is the fourth feature film that Hill directed. It is a pretty good effort, one that does well with trying to capture a mosaic of the time and landscape that came with folks in the Old West that happen to engage in moral choices involving robbery and murder. In other words, it isn't just a straight action Western, nor one that gives focus to any one individual, instead being just a balanced film with a midwestern feel that makes its 99 minutes count with usefulness. There have been adaptations of the James story since this film (most notably with The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford), but this film still stands for itself after four decades because of its capable charm, although it wasn't a big hit with audiences upon release (Keach has maintained that the film made a profit, although United Artists was likely thinking about the other Western they released that year that nearly sunk the studio - Heaven's Gate), making just a bit under double its $9 million budget.

When it comes to the first group of brothers, one can say that David proves the best in relative interest, as he is the most adept in charisma without having to strain for it. This seems most apparent during a sequence involving Reed and a new love interest, which naturally ends in a knife fight with a rope for them to chew on and duel. Keith and Robert do fine with a little less time to show, although the sequence with the Pinkertons and an unfortune cousin is a good one. The Keaches do well in their balance of laconic steel (mostly with J.Keach), one that doesn't aim for straight sympathy for the James brothers but instead lets them paint the picture for one to judge - their scene on horseback jumping through the window is likely the best image and moment from the film. The Quaids have a reserved amount of time on screen (most likely due to cutting from the studio), but they do well with being members of chaos (chained or not) that don't fall into the background, mostly with Randy. The Guests lurk right where they need to be in terms of calm sniveling, while Reed and Whitmore Jr fill out the edges in terms of allure and lingering authority that make for a off-kilter balance of a film, revisionist in its approach without seeming like a film relying just on a gimmick. It hits with a worthy punch in its look upon the landscape and the outlaws that became names to remember, no matter the efforts of authority like the Pinkertons or even the firing of a barrel to stop it. While it may not be Hill's best effort, it serves as an interesting start to a productive decade of work that packaged plenty of thrills within some of the confines that made the Western what it was without being chained to it exclusively, and it is a curiosity worth looking into today.

Overall, I give it 8 out of 10 stars.

Traffic (2000).

Review #1526: Traffic.

Cast: 
Michael Douglas (Robert Wakefield), Benicio del Toro (Javier Rodriguez), Don Cheadle (Montel Gordon), Catherine Zeta-Jones (Helena Ayala), Dennis Quaid (Arnie Metzger), Erika Christensen (Caroline Wakefield), Luis Guzmán (Ray Castro), Jacob Vargas (Manolo Sanchez), Tomas Milian (General Arturo Salazar), Topher Grace (Seth Abrahams), Miguel Ferrer (Eduardo Ruiz), Amy Irving (Barbara Wakefield), Steven Bauer (Carlos Ayala), D. W. Moffett (Jeff Sheridan), James Brolin (General Ralph Landry), and Albert Finney (White House Chief of Staff) Directed by Steven Soderbergh (#984 - Logan Lucky)

Review: 
"Well, I think a part of you has to be scared, it keeps you alert; otherwise you become complacent. So absolutely, I'm purposefully going after things and doing things that I'm not sure if it's going to come off or not."

There's a difference between one doing films for a living and one making cinema, particularly when it comes to a process-driven director like Steven Soderbergh. He had an interest in film as a teenager that led to him doing his own shorts with a Super 8 and 16 mm camera. He moved to Hollywood by the 1980s and moved his way gradually through roles such as game show composing to concert video directing. His first directing responsibility was the 1985 concert film 9012Live, which featured the band Yes. An idea for a film combined with a cross-country trip led to the development of his first feature in Sex, Lies, and Videotape (1989), a film regarded as an independent classic. Soderbergh (who once described himself as a synthesist) has done a mix of independent and mainstream films over the years, with noted works including Out of Sight (1998), Erin Brockovich (2000), and Ocean's Eleven (2001) that represent a versatile director of heist and psychological movies.

The basis for this film was Soderbergh wanted to make a film about the drug trade without having it be about addicts. With the rights to a property that seemed like what he wanted, producer Laura Bickford presented him with the rights to Traffik, a six-part 1989 miniseries written by Simon Moore that dealt with the illegal trade that wove a story between suppliers, growers, and customers from Pakistan to Germany to England, respectively). Looking for scripts led to one by Steve Gaghan that was about high school students and their problem with drugs and gangs that had Edward Zwick involved as producer, but the writer got him to try and do a film together with both Soderbergh and Zwick. After spending time consulting on the outline and doing films on the side, a script was finished that would have over a hundred speaking parts and split storylines to be shot in two months. The film was released by USA Films after 20th Century Fox went through wanting Harrison Ford for the lead, getting him to sign on, and dropping out even after script changes (which Douglas liked enough to take on the role after declining it initially). Soderbergh (who also shot the film himself) wanted a distinct vision for each of the three stories in order, such as having that involved different filters and contrast, such as no filter for a blue tinted Wakefield story or overexposed film with diffusion filter for Ayala's story or tobacco filter in Rodriguez's story.

It is interesting to view the film through its numerous perspectives that says what it wants about the approach to various cultures and the way that vices inhibit their little worlds in big and small ways of cruciality that shows shades of gray in every place with no real clear answer, with a war that isn't what it looks like on television. It has a cohesive edge in most areas that will inspire curiosity alongside certain emotions that make it stick with a viewer now as it did back in 2000. It doesn't compromise itself with trying to make a definitive statement or judgement on any of the three linked stories but instead lets the viewer make their own impressions on how vices (whatever kind of substance they are) can affect us or others around us without having easy solutions whatever border you live in. Obviously there isn't just one key star in the film, but the one that seems the most prominent to focus as first is Douglas, then followed by del Toro, Cheadle, and Zeta-Jones, although this isn't to diminish the effect others have in support. Douglas proves fairly captivating, one who runs with a hard-lined naivety that makes for a high-strung and capable performance that we can at least see some of which in others or ourselves in what we believe seems right. The speech at the end for example makes a point in what it doesn't say just as much as what actually is said about a fight against substances and ourselves, which Douglas handles neatly. When it comes to del Toro (a Puerto Rico native that shifted his focus from studying business to drama at the age of 20), he sticks out just as well in his distinct storyline (told to us primarily in Spanish with subtitles, which is what Soderbergh desired) in jaded honesty that we follow with great interest because of his well-timed instincts for what seems to be necessary to eke out a living within authority and corruption. This works out best in a little scene involving tourists looking for their car and del Toro telling them about calling a man to help them find the car (after stating the police won't find their car) - it is a fascinating moment that would've probably just been a one-shot blip with a less intuitive actor (incidentally he would later star in another drug war related film with Sicario, which also rules). Cheadle does just as well in reliable nature with a sort of cat-and-mouse game involving procedure and coercion, which he does with careful tension. This reflects just as well on Zeta-Jones in her evolution of principles and moments shared with a sneaky (and fairly effective) Quaid.

There are other aspects that do well, such as Christensen in driving the angle of shocking addiction without seeming like an after-school special act, but it ultimately is the balance of its three storylines in look and tension that makes it a mostly well-done film for its era. It will hold the attention for most of its intentions in 147 minutes that rewards patience through a mostly intact plot and fair camerawork and editing. It accomplishes most of what it wants to speak to us by knocking us over in its statements said and unsaid that excels in uncompromising uncomfortability that speaks truth to hypocrisy now more than ever.

Overall, I give it 9 out of 10 stars.

Any Given Sunday.

Review #1523: Any Given Sunday.

Cast: 
Al Pacino (Tony D'Amato), Cameron Diaz (Christina Pagniacci), Dennis Quaid (Jack 'Cap' Rooney), James Woods (Dr. Harvey Mandrake), Jamie Foxx (Willie Beamen), LL Cool J (Julian Washington), Matthew Modine (Dr. Ollie Powers), Jim Brown (Montezuma Monroe), Lawrence Taylor (Luther 'Shark' Lavay), Bill Bellamy (Jimmy Sanderson), Andrew Bryniarski (Patrick 'Madman' Kelly), Lela Rochon (Vanessa Struthers), Lauren Holly (Cindy Rooney), Ann-Margret (Margaret Pagniacci), Aaron Eckhart (Nick Crozier) Directed by Oliver Stone (#095 - Wall Street, #1090 - Platoon, and #1265 - Natural Born Killers)

Review: 
"I love intelligent films that come at you fast. I don't have attention deficit disorder, my mind moves fast. There's a lot to deal with in my films. We had so many facts to go through, so the governing style was flash, cut, flash, repeat."

One needs to see a bit of distinct vision every now and then from a director, and Oliver Stone closed out his 20th century with another distinct focus in football. He had been a student at Yale University before doing service in Vietnam first through teaching students English in Saigon to wiping Merchant Marine ships to dropping out of Yale and enlisting in the United States Army. He went into New York University after that and graduated with a film degree in 1971. He made his first film as a director with the cheapie Seizure (1974) before getting the chance to write Midnight Express (1978), which resulted in an Academy Award for his script despite inaccuracies of the depiction of the real-life prison story. The Hand (1981) followed for Stone as a director, but the five years between this and his next was crucial, since he wrote Conan the Barbarian (1982) and Scarface (1983) in that time. He rocketed to further prominence with Platoon (1986) that kept him busy over the prevailing years, with this being his 15th as director/writer. He has touched subjects such as war with Salvador (1986), biopics with The Doors (1991), to crime with Natural Born Killers (1994), all seeming distinct in their provocative nature by Stone.

I wonder if Stone wanted to make the ultimate football film. What we have here is truly a hodgepodge of clichés and assumptions you can have in a sports film, right from an upstart rookie becoming a star and then needing to not become consumed in arrogance, a wearied wise coach (perhaps like Tom Landry?), action montages, and even having actual athletes as stars (of which there are several notable ones of the past like Lawrence Taylor or Johnny Unitas). Stone had first expressed an interest in a football project with an early 1980s script about an old linebacker he wrote in mind for Charles Bronson. Years later, he met journalist Richard Weiner. He had developed a script with former player Jamie Williams about a black quarterback. This would be combined with scripts done by John Logan and Daniel Pyne alongside inspiration from You're Okay, It's Just a Bruise by Robert Huzienga Jr (former team physician of the Los Angeles Raiders detailing player injuries); Stone and Logan would get screenplay credit while Pyne and Logan got story and Weiner and Williams were consultants. This frenzy also applies to editing, since there are four listed as part of the film. Stone clearly was under the mindset that football was somehow like war, particularly with how it marched on as a team together as opposed to individual only, while also seeing the other sides of football life (like the pain and egos). On a basic level, I would say that this is a decent movie, wrapped with making an involving film packing an ensemble worthy of carrying most of its weight that Stone wants to put on them on and off the field that can be fairly entertaining. Of course it also is considerably lengthy at 162 minutes (157 for the director's cut, in which twelve minutes were cut for pacing while adding six minutes of other scenes) with a self-importance like no other in its presentation of football players as the modern gladiator (complete with a brief flash of Ben-Hur to drive home the point) with all of the excesses that come from Stone's view on the matter. It is firmly a film of the 1990s in all the right and weird ways, one that I chuck a smile at when it stops doing flashes of editing and focuses on just the basics.

Pacino does quite well with the material required in garnering a leader one could rally around in all of the moods required, whether that involves weary loneliness or stubborn dominance that seems fairly convincing in rally curiosity. Diaz matches him in cleverness that never seems like a doorstep to forget about, a figure of new-school arrogance that does seem quite amusing. Quaid does fine with a man on his last leg of fame (and perhaps health) - respectable without being drowned in pity. Woods doesn't have too much to really do, but he is quite a conniving figure behind the lines that has one really good scene to munch on involving him being caught in a lie about the health of the players. Foxx (picked after Sean Combs lost the role apparently because he couldn't throw a football) captures the bravado of a rising star and all that comes with it in good detail, whether that involves brimming confidence or sparring words with anyone. Others such as Cool J and Taylor make the best of their time on screen in charm and coarse acting that resonate the siding of the football action in its business and excess. It can't quite keep every thread going without being a bit lost, but at least its numerous showing of games do look fairly convincing (hits and all) within a fictionalized football league (in the year 2001 no less). It still has a punch when it comes to the TV-infected sensationalism and other various topics, and it definitely seems willing enough to want to inspire a thought without bashing your head with it. On the whole, it lumbers to points about football gladiators and its exploitation a bit too much, but it does work itself enough to win out in the end.

Next Time: We venture into the 21st century.

Overall, I give it 8 out of 10 stars.

The Right Stuff.

Review #892: The Right Stuff.

Cast: 
Fred Ward (Gus Grissom), Dennis Quaid (Gordon Cooper), Ed Harris (John Glenn), Scott Glenn (Alan Shepard), Sam Shepard (Chuck Yeager), Lance Henriksen (Wally Schirra), Scott Paulin (Deke Slayton), Barbara Hershey (Glennis Yeager), Veronica Cartwright (Betty Grissom), Jane Dornacker (Nurse Murch), Harry Shearer and Jeff Goldblum (NASA recruiters), Kim Stanley (Pancho Barnes), Pamela Reed (Trudy Cooper), Charles Frank (Scott Carpenter), Donald Moffat (Lyndon B. Johnson), Levon Helm (Jack Ridley and Narrator), and Mary Jo Deschanel (Annie Glenn) Directed by Philip Kaufman.

Review: 
Watching epic movies (especially historical ones) can be interesting, provided that that the pacing and the subject matter make for good entertainment, with this being adapted from the non-fiction book of the same name by Tom Wolfe, which covered both the story of the Project Mercury astronauts (also known as the Mercury Seven) along with the pilots dealing with high-speed aircraft such as Chuck Yeager, ranging from his breaking of the sound barrier in 1947 to the launch of Mercury-Atlas 9 in 1963. Even with a 192 minute (over three hour) run time, obviously some liberties had to be taken in order to tell a story like this, and the end result is certainly satisfying enough, with spectacle and cast to boot. Even after Project Mercury is introduced by the first hour, it doesn't merely become about the crew, as it also continues to give time to Yeager, while also not being just a technical story. The two stories run parallel with each other very smoothly, while showing some wonderful effects and costumes. By the time Yeager's story ends, there is a sense of triumph that carries on to the end of the other narrative that make for exquisite viewing and an ambitious movie.

Ward does a fine job, along with Quaid, who make for entertaining scenes together. Harris (playing the recently departed John Glenn) stands out amongst the crew, likely due to his charm but also the determination he manages to show in someone as interesting as John Glenn was. Glenn (playing Alan Shepard) is pretty entertaining, having some quips along with some sort of charm. Shepard (playing Chuck Yeager) plays the role with a straight laced but ultimately interesting way.  The rest of the cast is also pretty good, with Moffat being quite entertaining as LBJ. As said earlier, the film takes liberties with certain events (such as the Mercury-Redstone 4's hatch cover blowing, with some implication toward Grissom being the cause and Jack Ridley being shown talking to Yeager after the former had died in 1957), but it does not detract too much from the story's flow. It never feels too long, nor out of its element in regards to showing these astronauts and their lives. One of the best scenes is them discussing with the scientists over installing a window, in part because you see how they see themselves more than just test subjects. On the whole, this is a movie that inspires curiosity along with excitement over an age long gone but not forgotten, with enough depth and skill to make for a tremendously entertaining experience.

On that note, I wish all of you readers at home a Happy New Year as we approach 2017, and in effect Season 7 of Movie Night. Season 6 had 116 reviews (with only one review in January to begin the season), as compared to the 90 in the previous season (2014). With any luck, Movie Night will keep trying to push the limit of the standard I hold myself when writing these reviews, along with trying to cover a diverse amount of movies, the good and the bad.

Thank you for reading, and I will see you in the new year. 10, 9, 8...

Overall, I give it 9 out of 10 stars.

Movie Night: Jaws 3-D.

Review #556: Jaws 3-D.

Cast
Dennis Quaid (Michael Brody), Bess Armstrong (Kathryn Morgan), Simon MacCorkindale (Philip FitzRoyce), Louis Gossett, Jr. (Calvin Bouchard), John Putch (Sean Brody), Lea Thompson (Kelly Ann Bukowski), Harry Grant (Shelby Overman), and P. H. Moriarty (Jack Tate) Directed by Joe Alves.

Review
After making a sequel that was mostly inferior to the original, making a third movie was...a given? The original idea for this movie was devised by the producers of the first two films (David Brown and Richard Zanuck), which would've been a spoof film, called Jaws 3, People 0. The idea of a spoof didn't appeal to the studio, who apparently thought it would've been a mistake, like "fouling in your own nest". So yeah, why is the movie called Jaws 3-D? Due to the revival of films using 3D (Amityville 3D, Friday the 13th Part III), 3D was used, with in-disposable polarized glasses given to the audience to give the impression of elements penetrating the screen, with examples being the opening titles (which look tacky, but make sense), the shark going through the window...and the shark's jaws coming for the screen after explosion. However, when watching on television, the titles are fixed to not be so phoned in, with a title of "Jaws III" and consequently , the resolution is a bit poor to look at. But how is the film itself? Pretty terrible. The actors (save for Louis Gossett, who at least looks like he cares about how he acts in the movie) aren't really anything special, mostly harmless, mostly bland. The effects are pretty awful, it doesn't take long for the movie to "showcase" itself, with the remains of a fish lingering on screen for several seconds, obviously trying to look like it's coming towards the screen, but it just feels like padding. The shark apparently moves like a whack-a-mole, and it's really hard to build up tension when the shark moves s-l-o-w-l-y to break the glass, with the broken grass going towards the camera. The ending is about as silly as it gets, with the guts exploding towards the screen. Oh and the dolphins survive. People die, but oh happy day that the dolphins survive. The movie quite literally jumps the shark with this sequel, but there's still one more sequel to go.

Overall, I give it 3 out of 10 stars.