THE TURNING
Leo
Slogan: "...and introducing Gillian 'X-Files' Anderson"
Almost an hour into this tiredly talky Southern Gothic drama, Agent Scully unbuttons her blouse. Those gone giggly at that thought are advised to go to alt.binaries.nude.celebrities rather than to the video store. The freshest thing about this "A Film by L.A. Puopolo," made in 1992 but just now released to cash in on X-Files mania, is that it was shot in Southern Virginia. At the beginning of the tape, Mr. A Film By says with a straight face that Anderson agreed to the nudity because it was so important to the story, blah, blah, blah. Uh-uh. It's gratuitous, irrelevant, and not particularly invigorating, if you know what I mean. EJECT.
BREEDERS
A-PIX
Slogan: "It's Time to Prey."
After-the-fact explanations only work if what's being explained has been set up beforehand. For instance, it's no good telling us that the monster from Saturn is controlling all the coeds from, as the box puts it, "the depths of an all girls college" via fragments of the meteor he arrived in, which they are now wearing as jewelry, if we have not seen any of this jewelry—or very much of the coeds—until the gals suddenly appear and begin turning into killer zombies. But that's the least of the problems with this "A Paul Matthews Film," where characters change personality from one line to the next. Nice bas-relief creature on the box. No relief inside. EJECT.
LEPRECHAUN 4: IN SPACE
Vidmark [CC]
Slogan: "One Small Step for Man...One Giant Leap of Terror."
Warwick Davis plays the title role with appropriate gusto, though as my friend O'Leary pointed out with no small indignation, "It's not even an Irish accent!" As this is "A Film by Brian Trenchard-Smith," a charge of British imperialism may be in order. But Trenchard-Smith makes enough hay out of this intrinsically nonsensical concept to almost deserve the possessory title. The script is wry, the acting decent, the production values creatively attractive, and Davis blows up real good—many times. And Guy Siner out-Ottos Otto Preminger as a part machine/part man. Or vice versa. PLAY.
WEREWOLF
A-PIX
Slogan: "Rest in...Beast."
Moving the werewolf myth from eastern Europe to southwestern America and transposing it into Navaho lore is a good idea; hiring the Greater Flagstaff Remedial Theater Auxiliary to perform and buying the monster suit in the Halloween aisle at CVS are not. The box for this "A Tony Zarindast Production" is 3-D. The film barely approaches 1. The transformation scene is hammy, even by 1910 standards, coming off as some kind of interpretive werewolf dance. Creepy Richard Lynch picks up another check, but Charlie and Emilio's uncle Joe Estevez, in the Maria Ouspenskaya role, sums it up nicely for a fellow "Native American" in this exchange: "How bad is it?" "Bad." "How bad?" "Bad bad." EJECT.
STRIP SEARCH
A-PIX
Slogan: "Two Cops, Under Cover, Under Fire, Going Down."
"We didn't go all the way, but—somehow—you went further than any man. Ever. You were perfect." "It was wild. Perfect." "I feel like...the ocean. Like nothing. Nothing that has ever mattered to me should matter." "Yeah. Yeah." And fade the lights out. Cut to another bondage scene. That strange deadpan interlude between Michael Paré and a woman who may not be a woman only hints at the overwrought dialogue in this "A Film by Rod Hewitt" about vice cops sinking lower into slime. I liked it, then I hated it, then I liked it again. But it's got Pam Grier and a refreshingly dark and unexpected ending, so I won't hate it too much. PAUSE.
MAN WANTED
Tai Seng
Slogan: "If You're an Undercover Cop, You Go Deep...or You Get DEAD."
The nice thing about watching Chinese action movies is that they don't have distracting, big-ego Hollywood stars in them and you haven't heard how "difficult" they were to make on Entertainment Tonight. But they generally deliver the same Hollywood goods—and much faster. This gun-socky epic distills the entire two-plus hours that was Donnie Brasco in its first 10 minutes. Then we move on to several other plots, all of which can be explained in one subtitle: "Human relationships can be very scary." The fight scenes nearly out-Woo Woo—a guy in flames trading punches is particularly insane. But I worry that Hong Kong is copying Tinseltown too closely when a subtitle flashes, "Fuck you, motherfucker." What poor soul had to translate that? PLAY.
ZU: WARRIORS FROM THE MAGIC MOUNTAIN
Tai Seng
Slogan: "From Hong Kong's most extravagant director, Tsui Hark, comes the most fantastic adventure and fantasy romance story ever filmed!"
"That's the secret," says a narcotized creep in Strip Search. "There is no rhyme. There is no reason." Certainly this historical adventure tale has almost no reference points for Westerners. For example, the scene where one fighter massages another to "bring his veins into unison"—what's that about? But as a Fantasia-style spectacle, Zu is darn entertaining. There are vast fighting armies, each decked out in different primary colors, and there are underground fireworks, and everyone flies: the Evil Disciples, the Blood Demons, the Blood Crows, and what I took to be an Attack Tablecloth. But that's not the most fantastic thing. A guy actually uses his eyebrows as weapons. And his mustache. I said, a guy actually uses his eyebrows as weapons. And his mustache. But there is also some insightful dialogue: "You women have nothing better to do than to hide here and make up these ridiculous rules," snorts a disgruntled Disciple (or maybe a Blood Demon). Hey, isn't that what being a woman is all about? I say set the kids down in front of this one and have them explain it. PLAY.
Next: Battle of the Erotic Thriller Queens!
Sunday, December 30, 2007
THE BREAST YEARS OF THEIR LIVES
A thoughtful but anonymous reader wrote to suggest that my examination of erotic thriller queens must include the estimable Shannon Whirry. Sadly, the star of the Animal Instincts series is not as prolific as Shannon Tweed nor the Shannonesque Tane McClure, so we will have to wait until AI3 for a full appraisal. But thanks for asking.
What is striking about the "erotic thriller" genre is that these are just the kinds of films that Jack Horner--the Burt Reynolds character in Boogie Nights--dreamed of making: smut with stories and characters we care for. Current product reveals what a sad dream that was, a confused denial of the purpose of porn. All the talking gets in the way of the nudity, which in the cases at hand doesn't fully deliver. The eroticism is presented in quick-cut montages that seem assembled from the same list: she on top, rollover, he on top, hint of orality, giddyup cowboy, dissolve to morning, argument. The wah-wah funk score has been replaced with New Age lite jazz. In satisfying the market for hedonistic, amoral fantasies, real pornography is the more honest form. Maybe you don't feel as slimy watching Red Shoe Diaries as Debbie Does Dallas, but you'll be bored more often.
I invited my friend Jeff to help me with this month's careful scientific evaluation. Jeff is the editor of the electronic Witzelsucht Memorandum, and founder of the Delphine Zentout Appreciation Society. In other words, a connoisseur. He also brought some interesting beer.
HUMAN DESIRES
Columbia/Tristar
Slogan: Looks CAN Kill
"She still looks fantastic," a character says of Shannon Tweed, who as a pioneer of the erotic thriller has filmed more nude scenes than even Harvey Keitel. And she does look great, though she's playing "executive" rolls these days, leaving most of the "love interludes" to younger gals. Tweed is clearly a smart cookie, having worked up to executive status herself--she's associate producer of this murder mystery about scheming models. Ironically, her status demands higher production value and more involved plots, which in turn merely makes the intermittent nakedness seem that much sillier. Almost as silly as the actor playing the David Sanborn-as-Hef character. Continuing a trend for women-directed erotica, this is An Ellen Earnshaw Film, which also means that a man will cry. That crybaby is an unshaven PI, who mopes, "I made myself a promise--no more of the rough stuff. My life is simple now. The worst I see is a few broken hearts and some dirty pictures." Hey, that's my life! FREEZE-FRAME.
SEXUAL ROULETTE
A-Pix
Slogan: Play now. Pay later.
This A Gary Graver Film is Indecent Proposal in reverse, which may sound high concept but answer me this: If a woman offers a man $40 grand to spend the night with her--and his wife doesn't have to know--what guy wouldn't jump at the deal? Even when the woman is the equinely-intimidating Tane McClure. A leading contender for Tweed's crown, McClure seems more eager than Tweed to doff the lingerie, but appears more a creation of science than study. The real question is why a supposed erotic thriller has such a downbeat ending? Isn't the purpose to thrill you, erotically? "I know words don't mean a damn thing at a time like this," Tane declared while seducing hubby in her penthouse lair. This one does: EJECT.
EXPOSE
New Horizons
Slogan: Politicians all have their weaknesses. She's one.
"Let me get this straight," asked Jeff after several inexplicable nude scenes had dulled our senses. "She was going to blackmail him by showing that video to her father. But he's blackmailing her by threatening to send it to...her father?" Jeff's perplexion perceptively sums up the confusion at the heart of this story about a politician's daughter who is mistaken for a prostitute and decides to cash in on the error. But even that faulty logic gives way to much ugliness and a bloody conclusion. "What about the taut political thriller?" Jeff demanded, another victim of cover-art hype. Have another beer. That everything ends tragically is appropriate since there is absolutely no one to root for. EJECT.
DINOSAUR VALLEY GIRLS: THE DIRECTOR'S CUT
E.I. Independent Cinema
In this age of Jurassic Park, it takes nerve to make a film with stop-motion clay dinosaurs and closeups of live-action Gila Monsters pretending to be dinosaurs. The trick kinda worked very early in this century. If the filmmakers were high school kids, or even college-age, one would say, "Atta-boy!" But these are deeply middle-aged men and not so fresh starlets running around in vaudeville caveman outfits speaking cave-talk ("tooka-tooka," indeed). "If they live apart from the men and won't have anything to do with them," wondered Jeff, "why do they get themselves all dolled up?" That was the fancy beer talking. Why does the dino's claw only rip off the brassier? Why is there a sudden rock video in the middle, extolling the Alyosaurus? Why is Karen Black--last seen mouthing nonsense in Plan Ten From Outer Space--again in a role that requires no English? Why is William (Blackula) Marshall involved? Why is this the "director's cut'? Why ask why? For refreshing my faith in humankind, I give it PAUSE.
WEDDING BELL BLUES
BMG Video [CC]
Slogan: Micki, Tanya, and Jasmine have 24 hours to get divorced. There's just one problem...They're still single.
After hours of intense research, Jeff exclaimed, "What I wouldn't give to see a realistic, saggy breast." The good news is that they're in this film about three almost-30 women with man troubles. The grudging good news is that Paulina Porizkova, Illeana Douglas, and Julie Warner are far too classy to put them on display. What is on display in this A Film By Dana Lustig is Paulina's surprising confidence as an actress. She gives the line, "You really should try masturbating," all of the nuance and believability that it requires--and how long have I been waiting to hear her speak to me like that? Now, if she'd only make a film with Shannon Tweed....Anyway, Douglas--the distaff Buscemi--is her usual spunky self, the sorely missed Victoria Jackson has a cameo, as does the always classy Charles Martin Smith. It's a chick flick, sure, but with laughs and very little weeping. PAUSE.
SCHIZOPOLIS
Fox-Lorber
Slogan: Warning--all attempts at synopsizing the film have ended in failure and hospitalization.
All directors are frustrated or former actors, but who would have guessed that art-house filmmaker Steven Soderbergh was such a wacky nut? He expertly plays a very amusing Dilbert, slaving pointlessly in a cubicle at a Scientology-style organization pushing something called "Eventualism." If you take away all the film-school-style techniques, there is a very funny film about modern office life hiding within this bizarrely constructed pastiche. Perhaps he's remaking his own Kafka as slapstick. Appearing on a stage at the beginning, Soderbergh declares that Schizopolis is "the most important film you will ever see. See it at full price," and explained that if we didn't understand it "keep in mind that this is your fault, not ours. You will need to see the film again and again until you understand everything." I will. PLAY.
HYPERSPACE
Screen Pix
The first words that Richard Norton utters in this film: "Release the head." He says this to ex-wrestler Big John Studd. Later, ex-wrestler Professor Tanaka rips a noggin loose. An auspicious start, but these scenes have almost nothing to do with HyperSpace, which takes place on an interstellar garbage scow that has run out of gas. Sadly, even Ron (Superfly) O'Neal adheres to the black-guy-dies-first rule. Lynn-Holly Johnson can barely manage lines like "It's hard to know what love is." Norton manages to work in some of his kickboxing, which only makes one hope for more--or any--action. "I'm not sure I want to know how this turns out," Jeff had mumbled. It doesn't turn out, it just sorta ends. EJECT.
SNOWBOARD ACADEMY
Columbia/Tristar [CC]
Slogan: The path to higher education is all downhill!
If his credit were "and Joe Flaherty" or "with Joe Flaherty as...," the former SCTV great might have some deniability about showing up in a Corey Haim/Brigitte Nielsen/Jim Varney film. Just picking up a check for a quick cameo, you know. But third-billed after Stallone's second wife is in too deep. The sadness in my heart is mirrored on Flaherty's face as he tries to react to "Hey, Vern!" Varney's non-jokes and Nielsen's odd accent. The wrinkles on Varney's face are also cause for alarm. But not as alarming as the sheer bulk of Brigitte. "How does a movie like this come to be?" Jeff had asked. Well, this is A John Shepphird Film, which apparently means no nudity, no dazzling snowboarding footage, and no sense to the script. Next time, Joe, just say no. EJECT.
Next: It's alive! (If you call that living.)
What is striking about the "erotic thriller" genre is that these are just the kinds of films that Jack Horner--the Burt Reynolds character in Boogie Nights--dreamed of making: smut with stories and characters we care for. Current product reveals what a sad dream that was, a confused denial of the purpose of porn. All the talking gets in the way of the nudity, which in the cases at hand doesn't fully deliver. The eroticism is presented in quick-cut montages that seem assembled from the same list: she on top, rollover, he on top, hint of orality, giddyup cowboy, dissolve to morning, argument. The wah-wah funk score has been replaced with New Age lite jazz. In satisfying the market for hedonistic, amoral fantasies, real pornography is the more honest form. Maybe you don't feel as slimy watching Red Shoe Diaries as Debbie Does Dallas, but you'll be bored more often.
I invited my friend Jeff to help me with this month's careful scientific evaluation. Jeff is the editor of the electronic Witzelsucht Memorandum, and founder of the Delphine Zentout Appreciation Society. In other words, a connoisseur. He also brought some interesting beer.
HUMAN DESIRES
Columbia/Tristar
Slogan: Looks CAN Kill
"She still looks fantastic," a character says of Shannon Tweed, who as a pioneer of the erotic thriller has filmed more nude scenes than even Harvey Keitel. And she does look great, though she's playing "executive" rolls these days, leaving most of the "love interludes" to younger gals. Tweed is clearly a smart cookie, having worked up to executive status herself--she's associate producer of this murder mystery about scheming models. Ironically, her status demands higher production value and more involved plots, which in turn merely makes the intermittent nakedness seem that much sillier. Almost as silly as the actor playing the David Sanborn-as-Hef character. Continuing a trend for women-directed erotica, this is An Ellen Earnshaw Film, which also means that a man will cry. That crybaby is an unshaven PI, who mopes, "I made myself a promise--no more of the rough stuff. My life is simple now. The worst I see is a few broken hearts and some dirty pictures." Hey, that's my life! FREEZE-FRAME.
SEXUAL ROULETTE
A-Pix
Slogan: Play now. Pay later.
This A Gary Graver Film is Indecent Proposal in reverse, which may sound high concept but answer me this: If a woman offers a man $40 grand to spend the night with her--and his wife doesn't have to know--what guy wouldn't jump at the deal? Even when the woman is the equinely-intimidating Tane McClure. A leading contender for Tweed's crown, McClure seems more eager than Tweed to doff the lingerie, but appears more a creation of science than study. The real question is why a supposed erotic thriller has such a downbeat ending? Isn't the purpose to thrill you, erotically? "I know words don't mean a damn thing at a time like this," Tane declared while seducing hubby in her penthouse lair. This one does: EJECT.
EXPOSE
New Horizons
Slogan: Politicians all have their weaknesses. She's one.
"Let me get this straight," asked Jeff after several inexplicable nude scenes had dulled our senses. "She was going to blackmail him by showing that video to her father. But he's blackmailing her by threatening to send it to...her father?" Jeff's perplexion perceptively sums up the confusion at the heart of this story about a politician's daughter who is mistaken for a prostitute and decides to cash in on the error. But even that faulty logic gives way to much ugliness and a bloody conclusion. "What about the taut political thriller?" Jeff demanded, another victim of cover-art hype. Have another beer. That everything ends tragically is appropriate since there is absolutely no one to root for. EJECT.
DINOSAUR VALLEY GIRLS: THE DIRECTOR'S CUT
E.I. Independent Cinema
In this age of Jurassic Park, it takes nerve to make a film with stop-motion clay dinosaurs and closeups of live-action Gila Monsters pretending to be dinosaurs. The trick kinda worked very early in this century. If the filmmakers were high school kids, or even college-age, one would say, "Atta-boy!" But these are deeply middle-aged men and not so fresh starlets running around in vaudeville caveman outfits speaking cave-talk ("tooka-tooka," indeed). "If they live apart from the men and won't have anything to do with them," wondered Jeff, "why do they get themselves all dolled up?" That was the fancy beer talking. Why does the dino's claw only rip off the brassier? Why is there a sudden rock video in the middle, extolling the Alyosaurus? Why is Karen Black--last seen mouthing nonsense in Plan Ten From Outer Space--again in a role that requires no English? Why is William (Blackula) Marshall involved? Why is this the "director's cut'? Why ask why? For refreshing my faith in humankind, I give it PAUSE.
WEDDING BELL BLUES
BMG Video [CC]
Slogan: Micki, Tanya, and Jasmine have 24 hours to get divorced. There's just one problem...They're still single.
After hours of intense research, Jeff exclaimed, "What I wouldn't give to see a realistic, saggy breast." The good news is that they're in this film about three almost-30 women with man troubles. The grudging good news is that Paulina Porizkova, Illeana Douglas, and Julie Warner are far too classy to put them on display. What is on display in this A Film By Dana Lustig is Paulina's surprising confidence as an actress. She gives the line, "You really should try masturbating," all of the nuance and believability that it requires--and how long have I been waiting to hear her speak to me like that? Now, if she'd only make a film with Shannon Tweed....Anyway, Douglas--the distaff Buscemi--is her usual spunky self, the sorely missed Victoria Jackson has a cameo, as does the always classy Charles Martin Smith. It's a chick flick, sure, but with laughs and very little weeping. PAUSE.
SCHIZOPOLIS
Fox-Lorber
Slogan: Warning--all attempts at synopsizing the film have ended in failure and hospitalization.
All directors are frustrated or former actors, but who would have guessed that art-house filmmaker Steven Soderbergh was such a wacky nut? He expertly plays a very amusing Dilbert, slaving pointlessly in a cubicle at a Scientology-style organization pushing something called "Eventualism." If you take away all the film-school-style techniques, there is a very funny film about modern office life hiding within this bizarrely constructed pastiche. Perhaps he's remaking his own Kafka as slapstick. Appearing on a stage at the beginning, Soderbergh declares that Schizopolis is "the most important film you will ever see. See it at full price," and explained that if we didn't understand it "keep in mind that this is your fault, not ours. You will need to see the film again and again until you understand everything." I will. PLAY.
HYPERSPACE
Screen Pix
The first words that Richard Norton utters in this film: "Release the head." He says this to ex-wrestler Big John Studd. Later, ex-wrestler Professor Tanaka rips a noggin loose. An auspicious start, but these scenes have almost nothing to do with HyperSpace, which takes place on an interstellar garbage scow that has run out of gas. Sadly, even Ron (Superfly) O'Neal adheres to the black-guy-dies-first rule. Lynn-Holly Johnson can barely manage lines like "It's hard to know what love is." Norton manages to work in some of his kickboxing, which only makes one hope for more--or any--action. "I'm not sure I want to know how this turns out," Jeff had mumbled. It doesn't turn out, it just sorta ends. EJECT.
SNOWBOARD ACADEMY
Columbia/Tristar [CC]
Slogan: The path to higher education is all downhill!
If his credit were "and Joe Flaherty" or "with Joe Flaherty as...," the former SCTV great might have some deniability about showing up in a Corey Haim/Brigitte Nielsen/Jim Varney film. Just picking up a check for a quick cameo, you know. But third-billed after Stallone's second wife is in too deep. The sadness in my heart is mirrored on Flaherty's face as he tries to react to "Hey, Vern!" Varney's non-jokes and Nielsen's odd accent. The wrinkles on Varney's face are also cause for alarm. But not as alarming as the sheer bulk of Brigitte. "How does a movie like this come to be?" Jeff had asked. Well, this is A John Shepphird Film, which apparently means no nudity, no dazzling snowboarding footage, and no sense to the script. Next time, Joe, just say no. EJECT.
Next: It's alive! (If you call that living.)
DAS JUNGLE MONSTER
DNA
Cabin Fever
Slogan: Don't Mess With Mother Nature.
In the Philippines, DNA from the bones of a space monster is mixed with a smushed-up tropical insect to create a superfighter creature in this "A William Mesa Film." With Das Boot's Jurgen Prochnow scowling villainously, things begin a la Raiders, then become Jurassic Park, then Alien, then Predator, then Rambo, then Predator again, all to a soundtrack reminiscent of Batman. Plus: The cute tyke gets killed. Minus: Not until the end. EJECT.
HYBRID
Crowd Pleasers
Slogan: An Experiment Gone Haywire
In the future, DNA from an alien is mixed with snake and cockroach DNA and injected into humans in order to make superfighter creatures. The close-ups of the plastic monster head kinda minimize the fright factor. How futuristic is it? Scientists are still using VHS tape. Grant the film an Oscar for most inventively forced shower scene, which features scream queen Brinke Stevens, and give another one for gall to the blonde obviously reading her lines off cue cards. John Barrymore III is no John Barrymore II, however. EJECT.
HABITAT
A-Pix
Slogan: Welcome to a Living Hell.
After the ozone layer has been destroyed, a renegade scientist discovers "accelerated evolution," but an accident turns his house into a living thing and him into a superevolved Tinkerbell light show within it. The rain-forest sets are keen, and Balthazar Getty is a convincing "Young Charlie Sheen," but while this Canada-Netherlands co-production of "A Rene Daalder Film" is visually stylish--especially when the house is eating people--it is also utterly insane in its apocalyptic dystopian vision. The haunting theme song begins thusly: "In the garden of our love, many things may grow." EJECT.
JACK FROST
A-Pix
Slogan: He's Chillin'...And Killin'.
A serial killer is caught in a blast of "genetic research material" and his, yes, DNA, becomes one with the snow. That means he turns, literally, into Frosty. Director Michael Cooney displays flashes of dark wit, and before he has to put on the costume, Scott MacDonald is pretty good. But who can be scary with a carrot nose and an old top hat? The costume is right out of an elementary-school pageant, and choking scenes only reveal Frosty's fuzzy mittens. I probably should have reviewed this last month, but the holidays are hard enough. Nice 3-D box art, though. Because it must be seen to be believed: PLAY.
SANTA WITH MUSCLES
Cabin Fever
In America, steroids are injected into professional wrestlers in order to make superfighter creatures. I'm guessing that Hulk Hogan's DNA now resembles the outline for this script: curly, crazy, and indecipherable without a microscope. Ed Begley Jr. is no John Barrymore I, but neither are Clint Howard or Garrett Morris. All of them, however, should perhaps emulate the career savvy of Drew Barrymore (not that we need to see any of them naked). I probably should have reviewed this last month, but it's really for children who don't believe in Santa. Or much of anything. "Being Santa opened my eyes. And I didn't like what I saw," emotes the Hulkster. Substitute "watching" for "being" and I couldn't agree more. EJECT.
MILLIONAIRES' EXPRESS
Tai Seng
Slogan: A Slap-Stick Western Romp With Kung Fu Kick
Take Buster Keaton's The General, set it in China, add kung fu and about 18,000 subplots--new characters and stories pop up every couple of minutes, the scenes ranging in tone from Love, American Style style to Three Stooges slapstick--and you still may not have an accurate description of this Sammo Hung widescreen rice-noodle western. Competing gangs vie for a train filled with rich people, and everything--and I mean everything--comes to a head in a small frontier town. Blink and you'll miss Cynthia Rothrock and Richard Norton. And several subplots. But there are enough outrageous stunts to give one PAUSE.
GALAXY GIRLS
MTI
"Fast-forward until we find some space aliens, 'cause I'm getting tired of this," said my friend Patty. She was right, "this" being tedious dialog and a leaden plot. Then suddenly, and arbitrarily, the monster was upon us. "Kick-ass alien!" Patty exclaimed, and I had to smile. She was probably unfamiliar with the old trick of renting a surfer's wet suit and adding a bulbous rubber monster head to achieve an otherworldly lifeform effect that is quite stunning in its glaring fraudulence. Patty undoubtedly hasn't seen as many films by 13-year-olds as I have. But co-producer/star Gail Harris is an adult, a veteran of many "women's erotica" films, and the fact that the producer/director shares the same last name may explain the one perfunctory "love" scene. There's a cameo by veteran B-director Fred Olen Ray, who has made slightly better films, and while Gail has a certain Aussie charm, the girl on the box is not in the movie. EJECT.
Next month: Oh, That's Gotta Hurt!
Cabin Fever
Slogan: Don't Mess With Mother Nature.
In the Philippines, DNA from the bones of a space monster is mixed with a smushed-up tropical insect to create a superfighter creature in this "A William Mesa Film." With Das Boot's Jurgen Prochnow scowling villainously, things begin a la Raiders, then become Jurassic Park, then Alien, then Predator, then Rambo, then Predator again, all to a soundtrack reminiscent of Batman. Plus: The cute tyke gets killed. Minus: Not until the end. EJECT.
HYBRID
Crowd Pleasers
Slogan: An Experiment Gone Haywire
In the future, DNA from an alien is mixed with snake and cockroach DNA and injected into humans in order to make superfighter creatures. The close-ups of the plastic monster head kinda minimize the fright factor. How futuristic is it? Scientists are still using VHS tape. Grant the film an Oscar for most inventively forced shower scene, which features scream queen Brinke Stevens, and give another one for gall to the blonde obviously reading her lines off cue cards. John Barrymore III is no John Barrymore II, however. EJECT.
HABITAT
A-Pix
Slogan: Welcome to a Living Hell.
After the ozone layer has been destroyed, a renegade scientist discovers "accelerated evolution," but an accident turns his house into a living thing and him into a superevolved Tinkerbell light show within it. The rain-forest sets are keen, and Balthazar Getty is a convincing "Young Charlie Sheen," but while this Canada-Netherlands co-production of "A Rene Daalder Film" is visually stylish--especially when the house is eating people--it is also utterly insane in its apocalyptic dystopian vision. The haunting theme song begins thusly: "In the garden of our love, many things may grow." EJECT.
JACK FROST
A-Pix
Slogan: He's Chillin'...And Killin'.
A serial killer is caught in a blast of "genetic research material" and his, yes, DNA, becomes one with the snow. That means he turns, literally, into Frosty. Director Michael Cooney displays flashes of dark wit, and before he has to put on the costume, Scott MacDonald is pretty good. But who can be scary with a carrot nose and an old top hat? The costume is right out of an elementary-school pageant, and choking scenes only reveal Frosty's fuzzy mittens. I probably should have reviewed this last month, but the holidays are hard enough. Nice 3-D box art, though. Because it must be seen to be believed: PLAY.
SANTA WITH MUSCLES
Cabin Fever
In America, steroids are injected into professional wrestlers in order to make superfighter creatures. I'm guessing that Hulk Hogan's DNA now resembles the outline for this script: curly, crazy, and indecipherable without a microscope. Ed Begley Jr. is no John Barrymore I, but neither are Clint Howard or Garrett Morris. All of them, however, should perhaps emulate the career savvy of Drew Barrymore (not that we need to see any of them naked). I probably should have reviewed this last month, but it's really for children who don't believe in Santa. Or much of anything. "Being Santa opened my eyes. And I didn't like what I saw," emotes the Hulkster. Substitute "watching" for "being" and I couldn't agree more. EJECT.
MILLIONAIRES' EXPRESS
Tai Seng
Slogan: A Slap-Stick Western Romp With Kung Fu Kick
Take Buster Keaton's The General, set it in China, add kung fu and about 18,000 subplots--new characters and stories pop up every couple of minutes, the scenes ranging in tone from Love, American Style style to Three Stooges slapstick--and you still may not have an accurate description of this Sammo Hung widescreen rice-noodle western. Competing gangs vie for a train filled with rich people, and everything--and I mean everything--comes to a head in a small frontier town. Blink and you'll miss Cynthia Rothrock and Richard Norton. And several subplots. But there are enough outrageous stunts to give one PAUSE.
GALAXY GIRLS
MTI
"Fast-forward until we find some space aliens, 'cause I'm getting tired of this," said my friend Patty. She was right, "this" being tedious dialog and a leaden plot. Then suddenly, and arbitrarily, the monster was upon us. "Kick-ass alien!" Patty exclaimed, and I had to smile. She was probably unfamiliar with the old trick of renting a surfer's wet suit and adding a bulbous rubber monster head to achieve an otherworldly lifeform effect that is quite stunning in its glaring fraudulence. Patty undoubtedly hasn't seen as many films by 13-year-olds as I have. But co-producer/star Gail Harris is an adult, a veteran of many "women's erotica" films, and the fact that the producer/director shares the same last name may explain the one perfunctory "love" scene. There's a cameo by veteran B-director Fred Olen Ray, who has made slightly better films, and while Gail has a certain Aussie charm, the girl on the box is not in the movie. EJECT.
Next month: Oh, That's Gotta Hurt!
QU'EST-CE QUE C'EST?
PSYCHO SISTERS
E.I. Independent Cinema
Slogan: Insanity Is the Diagnosis...Revenge Is the Cure.
"I love the way they argue covered in blood," observed my friend Patty. Yes, how quintessentially dramatic, n'est-ce pas? Though I'm not convinced that this "A Pete Jacelone Film" is really concerned with truly exploring the human psyche. Psycho, yes, hence the, ahem, titular gals, who spend most of their time a-Bobbitting, a task requiring many changes of form-flattering apparel. But soon enough Patty was pleading, "Are we fast-forwarding through any of this movie? Can we, please?" Though it's only been a week since I saw it, my memory has already faded. But I recall this song: "Young children of God take my hand..." Haunting. I declare it is the best film of 1998. See it with a young child of God. EJECT.
THE DARK ANGEL: PSYCHO KICKBOXER
E.I. Independent Cinema
Curtis Bush is a reigning kickboxing champ and so is due a starring role in a movie about...kickboxing. But in choosing to make "A Film by Mardy South," the not-entirely-charismatic lad has dampened his chances of replacing any of the many other current kickboxing action stars. Basically a random series of styleless, unchoreographed fight scenes with gym buddies, the flick was shot in no light by the side of the road in various New Jersey industrial parks. It's as if they just stopped the van, hopped out, and started kicking at each other while the cameraman tried to follow and pedestrians stepped out of the way. The "Dark Angel" bit means Bush wears a modified Bazooka Joe outfit that covers his mouth, rendering his normally mush-mouthed delivery even less emphatic. And who thought that Truman Capote would be a good model for an evil Mr. Big? "Why don't they just shoot each other?" Patty asked, not unreasonably. Grant points for offering an overweight woman as the love interest, but deduct those same points for the lengthy bath scene. Still, with several excellent exploding heads, this is clearly the most important film of 1998. EJECT.
TRUE VENGEANCE
FM Entertainment
Slogan: Trained by the Navy...Hunted as a Killer...Only She Would Discover His Real Secret.
Daniel Bernhardt is one of the many interchangeable white martial arts movie stars Hollywood throws at us instead of giving the market what it wants and deserves: a black martial arts star. Which is not to insult the heavily muscled Aryan. After all, he says things like, "You think you can kill me? No one can kill me." Curtis Bush certainly couldn't. In this "A David Worth Film," Bernhardt plays a former Navy Seal who, says former supermodel Beverly Johnson, "got his priorities confused and had to go under...way under." Actually, he got set up and they keep pulling him back in! The reason he's pulled back in is because evil Asian industrialists say things like, "Control of virtual memory technology is pivotal to our organization." The fights go: my turn--my turn--my turn, your turn--your turn--your turn, my turn, I win. Over and over. But the interesting thing is that for some reason this tape arrived with a complimentary Chinese-made squirt gun. The toy had a "True Vengeance" logo sticker on it, but peeling it up revealed the gun's real name: Thunder Pet. "Thunder Pet" is a great name for a movie. I want to see Thunder Pet. I want to have a Thunder Pet. I want to be Thunder Pet! Thunder Pets are go! The most exciting movie tie-in of 1998! PAUSE.
BOMBSHELL
Trimark
Slogan: They Were on the Verge of a Scientific Breakthrough Until It Became a...BOMBSHELL
So if Spike Lee can affectedly call his films "A Spike Lee Joint," why can't this be "A Paul Wynne Mix"? Sure, it's obnox times two and you want to slap the guy, but there is some kind of vision at work here, at least in the art direction. It's a vision of the future, all pink hair, shiny clothes, lava lamps, and primary colors. And, hey, a justification for Orbitz. In the year 2011, nanoengineering scientists Henry Thomas and Frank Whaley are tampering in God's domain on instructions from the ubiquitous Brion James. Madchen Amick is suitably futuristic, and it's good to see Pamela (Cherry 2000) Gidley again, but what is the deal with Victoria Jackson? She's been showing up for a single scene in every other weird DTV film, as if her career is now just some crazy hobby. "You're supposed to tell the truth! You're a journalist!" a character shouts. If that's the case, I cannot lie: This is the finest film of 1998. PLAY.
RETURN TO SAVAGE BEACH
Monarch
Slogan: The Big Guns Are Back!
Like all other Savage Beach movies, this is "An Andy Sidaris Film." Unlike in most other "A Somebody/Nobody Films," the Sidaris label is a mark of a certain kind of distinction. A former TV sports producer, Andy makes movies for people who think jet skis and sport utility vehicles are elegant. Who think ex-Penthouse Pets like Julie Strain are glamorous. Who think double-stretch limos are classy. All of these are Sidaris staples, along with scripts as witty as a strip-o-gram. Andy's muscle-bound actors struggle like third-graders to recite lines like "Cobra, you're amazing. Working undercover. In a nightclub. As a stripper." In short, he makes movies for pinheads. He is a wealthy man. But the ending involves a face being ripped off to reveal the real killer, several dummies blow up nicely, and any film that has a credit reading "Adventure Amphibians by Happy Smiles" is surely one of the best films of the year. FREEZE-FRAME.
STAG
Cabin Fever
Slogan: Before He Gets to Say "I Do..." You Won't Believe What They Did!
In an act-fest, men will kiss. They will sweat. They will cry. They will vomit. In an act-fest, we will hear all of their stories. They will work out their issues. They will be "in the moment." The kissing (on the cheek), sweating, crying, and vomiting is always done in a lusty, manly way, of course. This is an act-fest with a big cast, so there are many stories, many issues, and much vomiting. Mario Van Peebles, Kevin Dillon, Ben Gazzara, Jerry Stiller, Andrew McCarthy, that guy from Talk Soup, and--omigod, it is!--Taylor Dayne ("keeping her roots dyed," Patty noted) act all over what I'm guessing is the producer's country estate as a bachelor party goes terribly wrong. Surprisingly effective, Dayne should be working more (not in the music business, and not in this kind of movie, however). Playing a weasel with real bad teeth, McCarthy offers his most appealing performance in years. Still, Patty was heard to exclaim, "There has to be something going on here!" Sadly, in an act-fest nothing ever really goes on. "Can't they shoot each other in an act-fest?" she suggested. Hmmm...not a bad idea. But the Oscar always goes to an act-fest. And this is the finest act-fest of 1998. PAUSE.
TIME TRACERS
Chimera Cinema
Slogan: A Chase Through Time...A Race Against Death...
It's not a chase, it's not a race. It's a very slow hour until we get to the Jurassic period, where the sunny countryside is filled with stop-motion dinosaurs apparently left over from Dinosaur Valley Girls. Before then, the script is all exposition, long speeches of blather that never get around to clearly explaining why the evil, bald industrialist is searching for a prehistoric dinoman--that is, a guy in a lizard suit. That fake Bigfoot footage is more convincing. We do learn that "by digitizing mass and reassigning it in relative space-time, we're able to circumvent both time and locality." For that reason, and the double-twist Twilight Zone ending, I must conclude that this is the finest film of 1954. EJECT.
ERNEST IN THE ARMY
Monarch
Slogan: America's Hero Is Finally Back in Camp!
Before the shrink-wrap was off the box, Patty said, "You know, we will be fast-forwarding." Because she had served our country in the Armed Forces, I was eager for Patty's opinion of Ernest's latest adventure. Right off the bat she spotted a casting flaw: "You can't be that fat, even in the Reserves." And Patty was also right that much fast-forwarding did occur as Ernest attempted to win some Desert Stormish war, mocking Arabs and saving orphans all the while. But after our movie marathon, Patty declared, "Ernest was the best thing we saw." Agreed. In fact, I'd call it the best film of all time. EJECT.
Next Month: Kill or be killed
E.I. Independent Cinema
Slogan: Insanity Is the Diagnosis...Revenge Is the Cure.
"I love the way they argue covered in blood," observed my friend Patty. Yes, how quintessentially dramatic, n'est-ce pas? Though I'm not convinced that this "A Pete Jacelone Film" is really concerned with truly exploring the human psyche. Psycho, yes, hence the, ahem, titular gals, who spend most of their time a-Bobbitting, a task requiring many changes of form-flattering apparel. But soon enough Patty was pleading, "Are we fast-forwarding through any of this movie? Can we, please?" Though it's only been a week since I saw it, my memory has already faded. But I recall this song: "Young children of God take my hand..." Haunting. I declare it is the best film of 1998. See it with a young child of God. EJECT.
THE DARK ANGEL: PSYCHO KICKBOXER
E.I. Independent Cinema
Curtis Bush is a reigning kickboxing champ and so is due a starring role in a movie about...kickboxing. But in choosing to make "A Film by Mardy South," the not-entirely-charismatic lad has dampened his chances of replacing any of the many other current kickboxing action stars. Basically a random series of styleless, unchoreographed fight scenes with gym buddies, the flick was shot in no light by the side of the road in various New Jersey industrial parks. It's as if they just stopped the van, hopped out, and started kicking at each other while the cameraman tried to follow and pedestrians stepped out of the way. The "Dark Angel" bit means Bush wears a modified Bazooka Joe outfit that covers his mouth, rendering his normally mush-mouthed delivery even less emphatic. And who thought that Truman Capote would be a good model for an evil Mr. Big? "Why don't they just shoot each other?" Patty asked, not unreasonably. Grant points for offering an overweight woman as the love interest, but deduct those same points for the lengthy bath scene. Still, with several excellent exploding heads, this is clearly the most important film of 1998. EJECT.
TRUE VENGEANCE
FM Entertainment
Slogan: Trained by the Navy...Hunted as a Killer...Only She Would Discover His Real Secret.
Daniel Bernhardt is one of the many interchangeable white martial arts movie stars Hollywood throws at us instead of giving the market what it wants and deserves: a black martial arts star. Which is not to insult the heavily muscled Aryan. After all, he says things like, "You think you can kill me? No one can kill me." Curtis Bush certainly couldn't. In this "A David Worth Film," Bernhardt plays a former Navy Seal who, says former supermodel Beverly Johnson, "got his priorities confused and had to go under...way under." Actually, he got set up and they keep pulling him back in! The reason he's pulled back in is because evil Asian industrialists say things like, "Control of virtual memory technology is pivotal to our organization." The fights go: my turn--my turn--my turn, your turn--your turn--your turn, my turn, I win. Over and over. But the interesting thing is that for some reason this tape arrived with a complimentary Chinese-made squirt gun. The toy had a "True Vengeance" logo sticker on it, but peeling it up revealed the gun's real name: Thunder Pet. "Thunder Pet" is a great name for a movie. I want to see Thunder Pet. I want to have a Thunder Pet. I want to be Thunder Pet! Thunder Pets are go! The most exciting movie tie-in of 1998! PAUSE.
BOMBSHELL
Trimark
Slogan: They Were on the Verge of a Scientific Breakthrough Until It Became a...BOMBSHELL
So if Spike Lee can affectedly call his films "A Spike Lee Joint," why can't this be "A Paul Wynne Mix"? Sure, it's obnox times two and you want to slap the guy, but there is some kind of vision at work here, at least in the art direction. It's a vision of the future, all pink hair, shiny clothes, lava lamps, and primary colors. And, hey, a justification for Orbitz. In the year 2011, nanoengineering scientists Henry Thomas and Frank Whaley are tampering in God's domain on instructions from the ubiquitous Brion James. Madchen Amick is suitably futuristic, and it's good to see Pamela (Cherry 2000) Gidley again, but what is the deal with Victoria Jackson? She's been showing up for a single scene in every other weird DTV film, as if her career is now just some crazy hobby. "You're supposed to tell the truth! You're a journalist!" a character shouts. If that's the case, I cannot lie: This is the finest film of 1998. PLAY.
RETURN TO SAVAGE BEACH
Monarch
Slogan: The Big Guns Are Back!
Like all other Savage Beach movies, this is "An Andy Sidaris Film." Unlike in most other "A Somebody/Nobody Films," the Sidaris label is a mark of a certain kind of distinction. A former TV sports producer, Andy makes movies for people who think jet skis and sport utility vehicles are elegant. Who think ex-Penthouse Pets like Julie Strain are glamorous. Who think double-stretch limos are classy. All of these are Sidaris staples, along with scripts as witty as a strip-o-gram. Andy's muscle-bound actors struggle like third-graders to recite lines like "Cobra, you're amazing. Working undercover. In a nightclub. As a stripper." In short, he makes movies for pinheads. He is a wealthy man. But the ending involves a face being ripped off to reveal the real killer, several dummies blow up nicely, and any film that has a credit reading "Adventure Amphibians by Happy Smiles" is surely one of the best films of the year. FREEZE-FRAME.
STAG
Cabin Fever
Slogan: Before He Gets to Say "I Do..." You Won't Believe What They Did!
In an act-fest, men will kiss. They will sweat. They will cry. They will vomit. In an act-fest, we will hear all of their stories. They will work out their issues. They will be "in the moment." The kissing (on the cheek), sweating, crying, and vomiting is always done in a lusty, manly way, of course. This is an act-fest with a big cast, so there are many stories, many issues, and much vomiting. Mario Van Peebles, Kevin Dillon, Ben Gazzara, Jerry Stiller, Andrew McCarthy, that guy from Talk Soup, and--omigod, it is!--Taylor Dayne ("keeping her roots dyed," Patty noted) act all over what I'm guessing is the producer's country estate as a bachelor party goes terribly wrong. Surprisingly effective, Dayne should be working more (not in the music business, and not in this kind of movie, however). Playing a weasel with real bad teeth, McCarthy offers his most appealing performance in years. Still, Patty was heard to exclaim, "There has to be something going on here!" Sadly, in an act-fest nothing ever really goes on. "Can't they shoot each other in an act-fest?" she suggested. Hmmm...not a bad idea. But the Oscar always goes to an act-fest. And this is the finest act-fest of 1998. PAUSE.
TIME TRACERS
Chimera Cinema
Slogan: A Chase Through Time...A Race Against Death...
It's not a chase, it's not a race. It's a very slow hour until we get to the Jurassic period, where the sunny countryside is filled with stop-motion dinosaurs apparently left over from Dinosaur Valley Girls. Before then, the script is all exposition, long speeches of blather that never get around to clearly explaining why the evil, bald industrialist is searching for a prehistoric dinoman--that is, a guy in a lizard suit. That fake Bigfoot footage is more convincing. We do learn that "by digitizing mass and reassigning it in relative space-time, we're able to circumvent both time and locality." For that reason, and the double-twist Twilight Zone ending, I must conclude that this is the finest film of 1954. EJECT.
ERNEST IN THE ARMY
Monarch
Slogan: America's Hero Is Finally Back in Camp!
Before the shrink-wrap was off the box, Patty said, "You know, we will be fast-forwarding." Because she had served our country in the Armed Forces, I was eager for Patty's opinion of Ernest's latest adventure. Right off the bat she spotted a casting flaw: "You can't be that fat, even in the Reserves." And Patty was also right that much fast-forwarding did occur as Ernest attempted to win some Desert Stormish war, mocking Arabs and saving orphans all the while. But after our movie marathon, Patty declared, "Ernest was the best thing we saw." Agreed. In fact, I'd call it the best film of all time. EJECT.
Next Month: Kill or be killed
DEATH BE NOT, LIKE, PROUD
KILLING TIME
Columbia TriStar
Slogan No. 1: Revenge Is a Dish Best Served Cold.
Slogan No. 2: Two Guns Are Better Than One.
Slogan No. 3: Payback Is a Bitch...Named Maria.
Obviously, that last slogan is the best. The first is, of course, an old Klingon saying, and the second is obvious, but the third has the makings of a very handy and versatile catch phrase. I know I'll be using it often, substituting the name of whichever two-timing hussy has most recently shattered my world. "A Richard Johns Production" of "A Film by Bharat Nalluri" "Introducing Kendra Torgan" as the rail-thin model-slash-assassin, this La Femme Nikita/Long Kiss Goodnight "homage" has an appealing European darkness. Even though there's almost no nudity and long talky sequences doubtless inserted to pad the film to feature length, there are songs by U2 and Portishead. See it with someone who's been hired to kill you but whom you plan to double-cross. PLAY.
BURIED ALIVE II
Universal
Slogan: Revenge Lies Just Beneath the Surface.
I think I like the Universal logo the best. You know, the words orbiting around our planet, which is spinning happily in bright outer space. But that ended quickly, and then I was staring at Ally Sheedy, who looks like she's auditioning to play Karen Carpenter. Director Tim Matheson is also looking undead, but he's supposed to be. If you missed Buried Alive I, don't worry—that whole story is retold. And then retold again, as the plot to this movie. The creepiest thing about this film is the discussion of mortuary techniques and embalming practices. EJECT.
SLAPPY AND THE STINKERS
Columbia TriStar
Slogan: Five Kids. One Sea Lion. No Rules.
"A Barnet Kellman Film" has even less meaning when it is "A Sheinberg Production." That's Sid, Bill, and Jon, but the latter two don't count: They're the kids. Daddy Sid was the longtime No. 2 at Universal before tiring of the Japanese way of business after the company's takeover. He formed "The Bubble Factory" to keep his hand in. Mr. Spielberg considers Mr. Sheinberg a mentor—was married to his niece for a while. I bring this up because this "Columbia TriStar Family Collection" offering has all the markings of an executive-commissioned work. It's a blatant attempt to cash in on the success of another film (Free Willy), and the script is an assemblage of sitcom-level verbal and visual clichés, the usual result of creative input from the marketing department. Worse (but typically), the kids speak like cynical college freshmen. What is more annoying than cynical college freshmen? Instead of offering precocious kids doing normal kid stuff—à la Our Gang/Little Rascals—Slappy forces adult language and attitude into children's mouths. The relentless coarse humor may appeal to youngsters, but such a diet is harmful to their development and the future of our society. B.D. Wong gets to sing Gilbert & Sullivan, and Bronson Pinchot gets yet another paycheck. Verdict: Not enough slappy, too much stinky. EJECT.
THE LAST DAYS OF FRANKIE THE FLY
Cabin Fever
The indie-film quirksters are out in force in this "A Peter Markle Film": Dennis Hopper, Michael Madsen, Kiefer Sutherland, and Daryl Hannah, who, as an actress-hooker-addict struggling to change her life, says, "Come on, touch my butt." Oh, that was a scene I played over and over and over. And over. Frankie is much grimmer than it needs to be, but Hopper is quite affecting as a dim loser. As has been pointed out elsewhere in these pages, Kiefer has been taking Shatner lessons. And Daryl makes an excellent Bettie Page. I was touched. PLAY.
OVERNIGHT DELIVERY
New Line
Slogan: They've Got 24 Hours to Stop a Package, Prevent a Disaster, and Fall in Love.
D.C. homeboy Walter Egan's only hit, 1978's "Magnet and Steel," is actually integral to the story of this "A Film by Jason Bloom." We hear it several times, once played by Matthew Sweet. My band was on the same bill as Walt's when he played in the local group Sageworth & Drums. Twice, in fact; the gigs were about a year apart. And Walt's band played the same set each time. None of which was as catchy as "Magnet and Steel." I bring this up to avoid discussing this John Hughesish tale of opposites attracting to find perfect love. The wacky complications depend entirely on forcible and random avoidance of the rational. Reese Witherspoon and Paul Rudd are watchable; Blondie and Stevie Wonder are on the soundtrack. PAUSE.
LOSER
Film Kitchen
Slogan: Born White Trash, Going Nowhere Fast.
This really is "A Kirk Harris Film" because it stars Kirk Harris. He plays a guy who is such a loser that he steals a Chevy Cavalier. A scrappy, ultra-low-budget work that arrives with much praise from the festival circuit, it's often fairly sluggish—but I like any movie that has the line "Coming to the party tonight?" PAUSE.
PLAN B
Monarch
Slogan: Do You Know Anyone Whose Life Turned Out Like They Planned?
Bless Jon Cryer for actively working to give the DTV genre something other than monsters, martial arts, and massive mammaries. Not that there's anything wrong with those. And at times during this talk-fest about whining almost-thirtysomethings, a naked breast or beast might have been welcome. As it is, all the women look like Nancy Kerrigan. We also hear the same "I missed Woodstock" riff that was in Cryer's The Pompatus of Love. More glib than insightful, the characters wait the entire movie to discover the blatantly obvious. The credits thank Robert Wagner. I'd like to thank Robert Wagner, too: Thanks, R.J. PAUSE.
Next month: Tony, Tony, Tony!
Columbia TriStar
Slogan No. 1: Revenge Is a Dish Best Served Cold.
Slogan No. 2: Two Guns Are Better Than One.
Slogan No. 3: Payback Is a Bitch...Named Maria.
Obviously, that last slogan is the best. The first is, of course, an old Klingon saying, and the second is obvious, but the third has the makings of a very handy and versatile catch phrase. I know I'll be using it often, substituting the name of whichever two-timing hussy has most recently shattered my world. "A Richard Johns Production" of "A Film by Bharat Nalluri" "Introducing Kendra Torgan" as the rail-thin model-slash-assassin, this La Femme Nikita/Long Kiss Goodnight "homage" has an appealing European darkness. Even though there's almost no nudity and long talky sequences doubtless inserted to pad the film to feature length, there are songs by U2 and Portishead. See it with someone who's been hired to kill you but whom you plan to double-cross. PLAY.
BURIED ALIVE II
Universal
Slogan: Revenge Lies Just Beneath the Surface.
I think I like the Universal logo the best. You know, the words orbiting around our planet, which is spinning happily in bright outer space. But that ended quickly, and then I was staring at Ally Sheedy, who looks like she's auditioning to play Karen Carpenter. Director Tim Matheson is also looking undead, but he's supposed to be. If you missed Buried Alive I, don't worry—that whole story is retold. And then retold again, as the plot to this movie. The creepiest thing about this film is the discussion of mortuary techniques and embalming practices. EJECT.
SLAPPY AND THE STINKERS
Columbia TriStar
Slogan: Five Kids. One Sea Lion. No Rules.
"A Barnet Kellman Film" has even less meaning when it is "A Sheinberg Production." That's Sid, Bill, and Jon, but the latter two don't count: They're the kids. Daddy Sid was the longtime No. 2 at Universal before tiring of the Japanese way of business after the company's takeover. He formed "The Bubble Factory" to keep his hand in. Mr. Spielberg considers Mr. Sheinberg a mentor—was married to his niece for a while. I bring this up because this "Columbia TriStar Family Collection" offering has all the markings of an executive-commissioned work. It's a blatant attempt to cash in on the success of another film (Free Willy), and the script is an assemblage of sitcom-level verbal and visual clichés, the usual result of creative input from the marketing department. Worse (but typically), the kids speak like cynical college freshmen. What is more annoying than cynical college freshmen? Instead of offering precocious kids doing normal kid stuff—à la Our Gang/Little Rascals—Slappy forces adult language and attitude into children's mouths. The relentless coarse humor may appeal to youngsters, but such a diet is harmful to their development and the future of our society. B.D. Wong gets to sing Gilbert & Sullivan, and Bronson Pinchot gets yet another paycheck. Verdict: Not enough slappy, too much stinky. EJECT.
THE LAST DAYS OF FRANKIE THE FLY
Cabin Fever
The indie-film quirksters are out in force in this "A Peter Markle Film": Dennis Hopper, Michael Madsen, Kiefer Sutherland, and Daryl Hannah, who, as an actress-hooker-addict struggling to change her life, says, "Come on, touch my butt." Oh, that was a scene I played over and over and over. And over. Frankie is much grimmer than it needs to be, but Hopper is quite affecting as a dim loser. As has been pointed out elsewhere in these pages, Kiefer has been taking Shatner lessons. And Daryl makes an excellent Bettie Page. I was touched. PLAY.
OVERNIGHT DELIVERY
New Line
Slogan: They've Got 24 Hours to Stop a Package, Prevent a Disaster, and Fall in Love.
D.C. homeboy Walter Egan's only hit, 1978's "Magnet and Steel," is actually integral to the story of this "A Film by Jason Bloom." We hear it several times, once played by Matthew Sweet. My band was on the same bill as Walt's when he played in the local group Sageworth & Drums. Twice, in fact; the gigs were about a year apart. And Walt's band played the same set each time. None of which was as catchy as "Magnet and Steel." I bring this up to avoid discussing this John Hughesish tale of opposites attracting to find perfect love. The wacky complications depend entirely on forcible and random avoidance of the rational. Reese Witherspoon and Paul Rudd are watchable; Blondie and Stevie Wonder are on the soundtrack. PAUSE.
LOSER
Film Kitchen
Slogan: Born White Trash, Going Nowhere Fast.
This really is "A Kirk Harris Film" because it stars Kirk Harris. He plays a guy who is such a loser that he steals a Chevy Cavalier. A scrappy, ultra-low-budget work that arrives with much praise from the festival circuit, it's often fairly sluggish—but I like any movie that has the line "Coming to the party tonight?" PAUSE.
PLAN B
Monarch
Slogan: Do You Know Anyone Whose Life Turned Out Like They Planned?
Bless Jon Cryer for actively working to give the DTV genre something other than monsters, martial arts, and massive mammaries. Not that there's anything wrong with those. And at times during this talk-fest about whining almost-thirtysomethings, a naked breast or beast might have been welcome. As it is, all the women look like Nancy Kerrigan. We also hear the same "I missed Woodstock" riff that was in Cryer's The Pompatus of Love. More glib than insightful, the characters wait the entire movie to discover the blatantly obvious. The credits thank Robert Wagner. I'd like to thank Robert Wagner, too: Thanks, R.J. PAUSE.
Next month: Tony, Tony, Tony!
WHERE'S THE BOSS?
HUGO POOL
BMG
Slogan: The Right Kind of Strange
"How many syllables, Mario?" Cognoscenti recognize that line from the classic film Putney Swope by Robert Downey Sr. It seemed a classic in 1969. Since then, the director has given the world absolutely nothing of note except Robert Downey Jr., which rather adds insult to injury. Dad is listed as director and Junior writes and acts wildly in this discombobulated tale of a pool cleaner (Alyssa Milano) with a dysfunctional family who meets other dysfunctional people, most of whom own pools. "This is really poorly written," said my friend Patty as Alyssa Milano climbed into the shower in the first two minutes. "What the hell is going on?" asked Sean, passing by the TV room while Malcolm McDowell did a Burgess Meredith impression. "Is this method acting?" Patty wanted to know as Downey Jr. writhed. "He's even drooling!" "I don't understand," said Ginger. "It looks like a good movie." And indeed, the color is quite appealing. "How could it be so awful?" wailed Ginger. "All the things I like are here," Patty admitted. "Horse-riding, rigs." "Oh, wait, there's some acting happening," Ginger interjected. "Alyssa Milano is very distressed here," noted Elissa. And so was I, until, surprise of surprises -- Chuck Barris appeared. The retired game-show mogul looks fantastic for a man who sold his soul to the devil. Here's a random selection from Barris' 1984 "unauthorized" autobiography, Confessions of a Dangerous Mind: "'Why you?' Lucy Sue Glopp had asked while spreading Borden's canned whipped cream on my pecker. 'Why do YOU want to host "The Gong Show"?' We were lying naked atop my massive four-poster bed. 'Greed,' I answered, my arms clasped behind my head. 'Pure and simple greed.'" Who knows why Chuck chose this film to return to show business? Who knows why this film was made, or what it means? But let's not be entirely negative. As Patty noted: "Nice accordion." EJECT.
LOVE TO KILL
A-Pix
Slogan: Not Your Typical Girl Shoots Boy Movie
"I think Tony Danza is a fine actor," Elissa said on her way out the door before the tape could start. Indeed, if Tony had been able to deliver lines like, "Why is Beth dead in the closet?!" on his sitcom, I would have watched. Alyssa Milano's former dad plays a gun runner with a heart, a gangster who dusts, in this "A James Bruce Film" that is not at all obvious. In addition to Louise Fletcher ("Interesting caftan," Patty observed), a deliciously slutty Amy Locane, and the usual Michael Madsen, we are treated to the unexpected Todd Bridges and Moon (formerly Unit) Zappa! The henchmen say things like, "You have to learn to manage your anger," and women chew gum and fire guns at the same time. "That was a good laugh," said Patty. Yes it was. PLAY.
THE EXOTIC TIME MACHINE
Surrender Cinema
Slogan: Take the Ultimate Pleasure Trip.
"This one's only 80 minutes," Patty keenly pointed out. "We're watching this one." In the first scene, the actors disrobed, after this exchange. He: "I thought we were going to keep this relationship...professional." She: "It's just that I have so much energy from the time machine." "Is this an instruction video?" Ginger asked, before catching on. "Oh, I see," she said. "They're going to have sex in other eras." Yes, that seemed to be the 80-minute recipe. So, we stopped the tape and switched to Beauty Investigator instead. But as the lovely Jacqueline Lovell instructed at the start of Time Machine: For more information, JPEGs, MPEGS, and AVIs, log on to surrendercinema.com. FREEZE-FRAME.
BEAUTY INVESTIGATOR
Tai Seng
Slogan: Two Undercover Cops on a Mission of Revenge!
"They kicked each other in the face at the same time," observed Patty. "Interesting." Yes, indeed, a chick-fight-ˆ-trois between a pair of lady Hong Kong cops and a Japanese hit woman is always interesting. Before that, the gals go undercover as "hostesses, not prostitutes," a distinction perhaps too subtle for Western minds, though we are reminded that "big in the chest doesn't mean small in the head." We are also told that these ladies are "trained to fight, not seduce," and fight they do, because this is more socky than sexy. "Let me get this straight," Patty wanted to know, "A couple of strange ladies sit you down and you immediately start confessing all the secrets of the crime lord?" For these strange ladies in their Carnaby Street fashions, you better believe it! And I give extra credit for this screen credit: "Special Effect: Bobby." PLAY.
NIGHT VISION
Peachtree
Slogan: He Swore to Protect and Serve -- Then He Broke ALL the Rules.
Fred "The Hammer" Williamson is the baddest of the badass blaxploitation badasses. It's fun to watch him swagger, even when he's walking around in his BVDs, which he does regularly in this movie, produced by, um, Fred Williamson. As Dakota Smith, he's an alcoholic cop living in a shelter who really wants to change. So, perhaps, does Fred, because there are as many AA meetings as explosions. But change he will, because we hear Jada Pointer singing, "Hey, Dakota! I know you can make it, yes you can-can, yes you can." Martial arts co-star Cynthia Rothrock is a dear friend of a dear friend. I've never met her, but I must say her new breasts are flattering -- though I'm sad she felt it necessary to buy them. Sadder, she doesn't have much to do except fill out her uniform. Hammer, don't hurt me: EJECT.
THE ENQUIRERS
Detour Pictures
Slogan: See & Believe!...Maybe
This is less a film than a dissertation right out of the Neal Postman canon. Television is dangerous, one character tells the Tom Hanks-ian star, "because it sucks the truth of life out of the individual and replaces it with insignificant pulp." This film replaces camera movement, lighting, and multiple, interesting sets with none of the above, adding only an extraterrestrial booking agent, an Elvis imitator who sings only obscure Elvis songs, and a stand-up comic whose act consists of an excellent deconstruction of The Andy Griffith Show. A bit ponderous, but there's a lesson to be learned here. I don't know what it is, but I appreciate the effort. PAUSE.
STAR KID
Trimark
Slogan: Kick Some Alien Butt!
I invited my young neighbors Rashad, 11, Kiya, 7, and little Sharte, 5, over for an evening of pizza and "A Film by Manny Coto." Originally, the draw was Domino's, but something about kid star Joseph Mazzello climbing into a robot suit from space and making a mess of things had the kids paying more attention to the screen than the pepperoni. Good, more for me. For sure, Joey has a certain Ringwaldian quality that makes him a face to watch. And actual money was spent on this project, and spent well. Little Sharte alternated between hiding behind the couch pillows when the monsters were loose and bouncing up and down laughing as Robot Joey wrecked several houses. "Yeah, it was cool," said Rashad. "I would recommend it for other kids." So would I. PLAY.
YOU'RE ON YOUR OWN: The man at United Film Distributors said that it wasn't cost-effective to make any more screening copies available of his films Prey of the Jaguar, Skeletons, and Firestorm. Also unavailable or unlocatable: The Dreaded, Dark Carnival, Dark Angels, Bleeding Hearts, Enemy, Boundaries, Illicit Confessions, Desires of Innocence, Prison Heat, Sweet Evil, Underground, Death by Love, Highjacking Hollywood, and, most cruelly, Bikini Med School. But don't weep too hard -- got a boatload of Dolph Lundgren and some fresh Julie Strain.
Next: God bless America!
BMG
Slogan: The Right Kind of Strange
"How many syllables, Mario?" Cognoscenti recognize that line from the classic film Putney Swope by Robert Downey Sr. It seemed a classic in 1969. Since then, the director has given the world absolutely nothing of note except Robert Downey Jr., which rather adds insult to injury. Dad is listed as director and Junior writes and acts wildly in this discombobulated tale of a pool cleaner (Alyssa Milano) with a dysfunctional family who meets other dysfunctional people, most of whom own pools. "This is really poorly written," said my friend Patty as Alyssa Milano climbed into the shower in the first two minutes. "What the hell is going on?" asked Sean, passing by the TV room while Malcolm McDowell did a Burgess Meredith impression. "Is this method acting?" Patty wanted to know as Downey Jr. writhed. "He's even drooling!" "I don't understand," said Ginger. "It looks like a good movie." And indeed, the color is quite appealing. "How could it be so awful?" wailed Ginger. "All the things I like are here," Patty admitted. "Horse-riding, rigs." "Oh, wait, there's some acting happening," Ginger interjected. "Alyssa Milano is very distressed here," noted Elissa. And so was I, until, surprise of surprises -- Chuck Barris appeared. The retired game-show mogul looks fantastic for a man who sold his soul to the devil. Here's a random selection from Barris' 1984 "unauthorized" autobiography, Confessions of a Dangerous Mind: "'Why you?' Lucy Sue Glopp had asked while spreading Borden's canned whipped cream on my pecker. 'Why do YOU want to host "The Gong Show"?' We were lying naked atop my massive four-poster bed. 'Greed,' I answered, my arms clasped behind my head. 'Pure and simple greed.'" Who knows why Chuck chose this film to return to show business? Who knows why this film was made, or what it means? But let's not be entirely negative. As Patty noted: "Nice accordion." EJECT.
LOVE TO KILL
A-Pix
Slogan: Not Your Typical Girl Shoots Boy Movie
"I think Tony Danza is a fine actor," Elissa said on her way out the door before the tape could start. Indeed, if Tony had been able to deliver lines like, "Why is Beth dead in the closet?!" on his sitcom, I would have watched. Alyssa Milano's former dad plays a gun runner with a heart, a gangster who dusts, in this "A James Bruce Film" that is not at all obvious. In addition to Louise Fletcher ("Interesting caftan," Patty observed), a deliciously slutty Amy Locane, and the usual Michael Madsen, we are treated to the unexpected Todd Bridges and Moon (formerly Unit) Zappa! The henchmen say things like, "You have to learn to manage your anger," and women chew gum and fire guns at the same time. "That was a good laugh," said Patty. Yes it was. PLAY.
THE EXOTIC TIME MACHINE
Surrender Cinema
Slogan: Take the Ultimate Pleasure Trip.
"This one's only 80 minutes," Patty keenly pointed out. "We're watching this one." In the first scene, the actors disrobed, after this exchange. He: "I thought we were going to keep this relationship...professional." She: "It's just that I have so much energy from the time machine." "Is this an instruction video?" Ginger asked, before catching on. "Oh, I see," she said. "They're going to have sex in other eras." Yes, that seemed to be the 80-minute recipe. So, we stopped the tape and switched to Beauty Investigator instead. But as the lovely Jacqueline Lovell instructed at the start of Time Machine: For more information, JPEGs, MPEGS, and AVIs, log on to surrendercinema.com. FREEZE-FRAME.
BEAUTY INVESTIGATOR
Tai Seng
Slogan: Two Undercover Cops on a Mission of Revenge!
"They kicked each other in the face at the same time," observed Patty. "Interesting." Yes, indeed, a chick-fight-ˆ-trois between a pair of lady Hong Kong cops and a Japanese hit woman is always interesting. Before that, the gals go undercover as "hostesses, not prostitutes," a distinction perhaps too subtle for Western minds, though we are reminded that "big in the chest doesn't mean small in the head." We are also told that these ladies are "trained to fight, not seduce," and fight they do, because this is more socky than sexy. "Let me get this straight," Patty wanted to know, "A couple of strange ladies sit you down and you immediately start confessing all the secrets of the crime lord?" For these strange ladies in their Carnaby Street fashions, you better believe it! And I give extra credit for this screen credit: "Special Effect: Bobby." PLAY.
NIGHT VISION
Peachtree
Slogan: He Swore to Protect and Serve -- Then He Broke ALL the Rules.
Fred "The Hammer" Williamson is the baddest of the badass blaxploitation badasses. It's fun to watch him swagger, even when he's walking around in his BVDs, which he does regularly in this movie, produced by, um, Fred Williamson. As Dakota Smith, he's an alcoholic cop living in a shelter who really wants to change. So, perhaps, does Fred, because there are as many AA meetings as explosions. But change he will, because we hear Jada Pointer singing, "Hey, Dakota! I know you can make it, yes you can-can, yes you can." Martial arts co-star Cynthia Rothrock is a dear friend of a dear friend. I've never met her, but I must say her new breasts are flattering -- though I'm sad she felt it necessary to buy them. Sadder, she doesn't have much to do except fill out her uniform. Hammer, don't hurt me: EJECT.
THE ENQUIRERS
Detour Pictures
Slogan: See & Believe!...Maybe
This is less a film than a dissertation right out of the Neal Postman canon. Television is dangerous, one character tells the Tom Hanks-ian star, "because it sucks the truth of life out of the individual and replaces it with insignificant pulp." This film replaces camera movement, lighting, and multiple, interesting sets with none of the above, adding only an extraterrestrial booking agent, an Elvis imitator who sings only obscure Elvis songs, and a stand-up comic whose act consists of an excellent deconstruction of The Andy Griffith Show. A bit ponderous, but there's a lesson to be learned here. I don't know what it is, but I appreciate the effort. PAUSE.
STAR KID
Trimark
Slogan: Kick Some Alien Butt!
I invited my young neighbors Rashad, 11, Kiya, 7, and little Sharte, 5, over for an evening of pizza and "A Film by Manny Coto." Originally, the draw was Domino's, but something about kid star Joseph Mazzello climbing into a robot suit from space and making a mess of things had the kids paying more attention to the screen than the pepperoni. Good, more for me. For sure, Joey has a certain Ringwaldian quality that makes him a face to watch. And actual money was spent on this project, and spent well. Little Sharte alternated between hiding behind the couch pillows when the monsters were loose and bouncing up and down laughing as Robot Joey wrecked several houses. "Yeah, it was cool," said Rashad. "I would recommend it for other kids." So would I. PLAY.
YOU'RE ON YOUR OWN: The man at United Film Distributors said that it wasn't cost-effective to make any more screening copies available of his films Prey of the Jaguar, Skeletons, and Firestorm. Also unavailable or unlocatable: The Dreaded, Dark Carnival, Dark Angels, Bleeding Hearts, Enemy, Boundaries, Illicit Confessions, Desires of Innocence, Prison Heat, Sweet Evil, Underground, Death by Love, Highjacking Hollywood, and, most cruelly, Bikini Med School. But don't weep too hard -- got a boatload of Dolph Lundgren and some fresh Julie Strain.
Next: God bless America!
NEARER MY DOLPH TO THEE
BLACKJACK
Dimension
Slogan: Explosive!
Muscle-headed ex-footballer Howie Long's fire movie played in D.C. theaters, but this Dolph Lundgren vehicle—directed by John Woo, no less—went right to video. Is there a God? I mean, Dolph is twice the muscle-head that Long is. And as a high-priced bodyguard, he shows range, depth, and fashion sense. This is a contemplative Dolph, who adopts an orphan girl and helps a pill-popping model kick her habit. "There's nothing harder than being a good father," he tells us, and later admits, "I cry sometimes." So do I, Dolph, so do I. But I laugh at what is absolutely the most insane plot complication ever: Dolph must struggle to overcome his fear of...white. Yes, the color. Or absence of color. Whenever there is too much white, Dolph goes gaga. Maybe, wonders the beautiful psychiatrist, he is "afraid of something white represents." I was a little afraid during the fight in the milk warehouse. But I didn't cry. PLAY.
SILENT TRIGGER
Hollywood Pictures
Slogan: They Trained Him to Kill...Now They Want Him Dead.
Muscle-headed ex-footballer Howie Long's fire movie played in D.C. theaters, but this Dolph Lundgren vehicle—directed by Russell Mulcahy, no less—went right to video. Is there a God? Dolph continues his pensive ways, this time as a conscience-plagued sniper. The sets are right out of the video game Quake—perfect, since the androidish Lundgren resembles Duke Nukem. As in a good video game, all the politics of assassination and most of the exposition are tossed so that we may concentrate on the pure process of killing, the intricate pre-snipe rituals. "Do you remember your first kill?" asks co-sniper Gina Bellman. "They're not people—they're targets," corrects Dolph. As in a good video game, there is heavy philosophy underneath: "I started to doubt," says Dolph. "The face of every target was the face in the mirror." The real question is: Can snipers fall in love? I won't spoil it. See this with someone who's packing. The fine soundtrack is obviously the result of this credit: "Music consultant for Shiro Records: Shiro." PLAY.
FREEDOM STRIKE
A-Pix
Slogan: Dead on Target
The real fallout from the Persian Gulf War is that it has extended Michael Dudikoff's career. Here the star of American Ninja 1 through 197 heads a "special U.N. strike force" that must stop a Middle East madman from launching nuclear weapons. The filmmakers don't hide behind some fake country; they spell it out clearly: It's Syria, and we hate their Arabian guts. Speaking of guts, Mike is starting to resemble Ryan O'Neal. But Tone Loc, even with the snappy uniform, does not resemble an Army officer. Most of the action in this "A Jerry P. Jacobs Film" involves guys getting shot and falling off tall buildings. Stock military footage is used effectively, of course; this project had the cooperation of the Defense Department. I'm not sure that the State Department would approve of this much Arab-bashing, but, hey, there's a very nice spit-take. And America is No. 1 when it comes to spit-takes. EJECT.
OPERATION DELTA FORCE
Live Entertainment
Slogan: Negotiations Are Over.
I was expecting Arabs, but it's racist Afrikaners this time as Jeff Fahey and Ernie (the Other Ghostbuster) Hudson lead a "special military unit" across the dark continent to prevent a madman from unleashing an extra-strength Ebola virus in this "A Film by Sam Firstenberg." We know Fahey is serious because he has a very bad haircut. And when the script remembers he's there, Hudson brings a certain dignity to the proceedings, most of which involve guys getting shot and falling off tall buildings. No spit-takes, and the military stock footage is not that convincing, but Hal Holbrook, Frank Zagarino, and the evil Joe Lara are. PAUSE.
UNCLE SAM
A-Pix
Slogan: I Want You...Dead
P.J. Soles, so perky in Rock and Roll High School, has barely one line in this "A George G. Braunstein Production" of "A William Lustig Picture." The same folks who brought us Jack Frost now turn to another icon, but it is never clear why the monster must wear the Uncle Sam suit. Or how he's become a monster. (Something about the Gulf War.) Or why he's out for revenge. What begins as a fairly measured debate on heroism and war becomes typical random slasher fare, squandering the goodwill built on lines like, "Not now, Ralph, there's a dead body in the house." Isaac Hayes makes an effort, but it is creepy William Smith who closes the film, reciting a poem of his own devising over the credits. It is titled "Desert Storm," and this is the haunting refrain: "I am the marine on the border of Kuwait." I cry sometimes. EJECT.
BIG SISTER 2000
Home Video Films LLC
William Smith does not recite verse in this "A Film by Maximo T. Bird"—he just harasses the comely Heather Baker. Of course, there is nothing remotely poetic about this sadistic women-in-prison film, and besides, the box says this murky mess was directed by Donald G. Jackson. I wouldn't claim credit, either. In somebody's concrete basement, Julie Strain is "the tyrannical interrogator who commands the dark forces of the future," and the women look as if they were run over by Courtney Love's tour bus—except the "big sister," who appears clumsily to cheer the ladies with helpful comments like, "Keep your faith and the light will shine on you." Lights weren't in the budget. Neither were costumes or makeup. This future's so nude, I've got to wear protection. EJECT.
THE DISAPPEARANCE OF KEVIN JOHNSON
Columbia Tristar
Slogan: In Hollywood, Sex Sells and Money Talks. Any Questions?
Dudley Moore returns to the screen! Playing "Dudley Moore," we see the pixieish funnyman tinkling the piano and reminiscing about the mysterious title character. Likewise, Pierce Brosnan and James Coburn gamely play along with this "A Francis Megahy Film," which is a fake "British documentary" about a Hollywood scandal involving call girls. There's already been a real British documentary about a real Hollywood scandal involving real call girls, which proved that reality is always more entertaining than the fiction Tinseltown cooks up. But the real documentary had Heidi Fleiss yammering on the phone, and this one has Kari Wuhrer lounging around a pool in a very flattering bathing suit. Perception? Reality? FREEZE-FRAME.
LEWIS & CLARK & GEORGE
BMG
Slogan: Two guys. A sexy girl. A stash of gold. Sounds like trouble.
Of course Paul Bartel is in this flick. The sad infatuation that the urban hipoisie have with poor white trash must stop. You just know that after thrifting all the can-you-believe-it set decorations, the filmmakers repaired to their SoHo loft to argue over which restaurant was truly of-the-moment and therefore deserving of their presence. Yeah, I'm talking to you, Mr. "A Film by Rod McCall," who substitutes easy, cynical attitude for comedy. Or maybe drama. It's hard to tell anymore. The Ben Vaughn soundtrack is nice, but the photo of Rose McGowan (George) on the box is the same one as on the cover of the excellent Henry Mancini tribute CD, Shots in the Dark. Confused, I turned to "Richard's Rose McGowan Page" on the World Wide Web: "Rose McGowan is one of the most talented young actresses in films today. Her acting seems to cut through any status-quo, pretentious tendencies that actors young and old tend to emulate. Because of her unique talent, Rose McGowan has been cast in many independant [sic] films." Well, that settles it, but Rose's taste in projects needs to become a bit more unique. EJECT.
WATCH THIS TAPE, WIN $10,000 INSTANTLY
98.7 WMZQ
Slogan: You May Already Have Won!
I'm in a select crowd! That's one message I got from this tape that arrived unexpectedly in my mailbox. Taking a break from freeze-framing Kari Wuhrer, I was also informed by the frightening DJ team of Murphy & Cash that country music is not "that twangy old stuff" (thank gosh!) and heard the creepy pair joyfully admit that "we don't actually choose the music" (thank gosh!). Tragically, I did not win $10,000 instantly, but this video proved invaluable nonetheless. Now when the soulless undead rise and walk the Earth, I will be able to recognize them—for I have seen Murphy & Cash. BULK-ERASE.
JUST SO YOU KNOW: From the liner notes to SHADOW DANCER (New Horizons. Slogan: Dancing Away With Murder): "At a Los Angeles strip club, provocative Narina is the undisputed star. But when Narina and her friend, Dee, are performing a daringly erotic routine, the lights go out and Dee is stabbed to death. All the evidence points to Narina, and Narina herself feels she may be guilty because of her own dark secret—she has killed before." I like that "daringly erotic routine" bit. Not enough to watch, though.
Next month: Sheentastic!
Dimension
Slogan: Explosive!
Muscle-headed ex-footballer Howie Long's fire movie played in D.C. theaters, but this Dolph Lundgren vehicle—directed by John Woo, no less—went right to video. Is there a God? I mean, Dolph is twice the muscle-head that Long is. And as a high-priced bodyguard, he shows range, depth, and fashion sense. This is a contemplative Dolph, who adopts an orphan girl and helps a pill-popping model kick her habit. "There's nothing harder than being a good father," he tells us, and later admits, "I cry sometimes." So do I, Dolph, so do I. But I laugh at what is absolutely the most insane plot complication ever: Dolph must struggle to overcome his fear of...white. Yes, the color. Or absence of color. Whenever there is too much white, Dolph goes gaga. Maybe, wonders the beautiful psychiatrist, he is "afraid of something white represents." I was a little afraid during the fight in the milk warehouse. But I didn't cry. PLAY.
SILENT TRIGGER
Hollywood Pictures
Slogan: They Trained Him to Kill...Now They Want Him Dead.
Muscle-headed ex-footballer Howie Long's fire movie played in D.C. theaters, but this Dolph Lundgren vehicle—directed by Russell Mulcahy, no less—went right to video. Is there a God? Dolph continues his pensive ways, this time as a conscience-plagued sniper. The sets are right out of the video game Quake—perfect, since the androidish Lundgren resembles Duke Nukem. As in a good video game, all the politics of assassination and most of the exposition are tossed so that we may concentrate on the pure process of killing, the intricate pre-snipe rituals. "Do you remember your first kill?" asks co-sniper Gina Bellman. "They're not people—they're targets," corrects Dolph. As in a good video game, there is heavy philosophy underneath: "I started to doubt," says Dolph. "The face of every target was the face in the mirror." The real question is: Can snipers fall in love? I won't spoil it. See this with someone who's packing. The fine soundtrack is obviously the result of this credit: "Music consultant for Shiro Records: Shiro." PLAY.
FREEDOM STRIKE
A-Pix
Slogan: Dead on Target
The real fallout from the Persian Gulf War is that it has extended Michael Dudikoff's career. Here the star of American Ninja 1 through 197 heads a "special U.N. strike force" that must stop a Middle East madman from launching nuclear weapons. The filmmakers don't hide behind some fake country; they spell it out clearly: It's Syria, and we hate their Arabian guts. Speaking of guts, Mike is starting to resemble Ryan O'Neal. But Tone Loc, even with the snappy uniform, does not resemble an Army officer. Most of the action in this "A Jerry P. Jacobs Film" involves guys getting shot and falling off tall buildings. Stock military footage is used effectively, of course; this project had the cooperation of the Defense Department. I'm not sure that the State Department would approve of this much Arab-bashing, but, hey, there's a very nice spit-take. And America is No. 1 when it comes to spit-takes. EJECT.
OPERATION DELTA FORCE
Live Entertainment
Slogan: Negotiations Are Over.
I was expecting Arabs, but it's racist Afrikaners this time as Jeff Fahey and Ernie (the Other Ghostbuster) Hudson lead a "special military unit" across the dark continent to prevent a madman from unleashing an extra-strength Ebola virus in this "A Film by Sam Firstenberg." We know Fahey is serious because he has a very bad haircut. And when the script remembers he's there, Hudson brings a certain dignity to the proceedings, most of which involve guys getting shot and falling off tall buildings. No spit-takes, and the military stock footage is not that convincing, but Hal Holbrook, Frank Zagarino, and the evil Joe Lara are. PAUSE.
UNCLE SAM
A-Pix
Slogan: I Want You...Dead
P.J. Soles, so perky in Rock and Roll High School, has barely one line in this "A George G. Braunstein Production" of "A William Lustig Picture." The same folks who brought us Jack Frost now turn to another icon, but it is never clear why the monster must wear the Uncle Sam suit. Or how he's become a monster. (Something about the Gulf War.) Or why he's out for revenge. What begins as a fairly measured debate on heroism and war becomes typical random slasher fare, squandering the goodwill built on lines like, "Not now, Ralph, there's a dead body in the house." Isaac Hayes makes an effort, but it is creepy William Smith who closes the film, reciting a poem of his own devising over the credits. It is titled "Desert Storm," and this is the haunting refrain: "I am the marine on the border of Kuwait." I cry sometimes. EJECT.
BIG SISTER 2000
Home Video Films LLC
William Smith does not recite verse in this "A Film by Maximo T. Bird"—he just harasses the comely Heather Baker. Of course, there is nothing remotely poetic about this sadistic women-in-prison film, and besides, the box says this murky mess was directed by Donald G. Jackson. I wouldn't claim credit, either. In somebody's concrete basement, Julie Strain is "the tyrannical interrogator who commands the dark forces of the future," and the women look as if they were run over by Courtney Love's tour bus—except the "big sister," who appears clumsily to cheer the ladies with helpful comments like, "Keep your faith and the light will shine on you." Lights weren't in the budget. Neither were costumes or makeup. This future's so nude, I've got to wear protection. EJECT.
THE DISAPPEARANCE OF KEVIN JOHNSON
Columbia Tristar
Slogan: In Hollywood, Sex Sells and Money Talks. Any Questions?
Dudley Moore returns to the screen! Playing "Dudley Moore," we see the pixieish funnyman tinkling the piano and reminiscing about the mysterious title character. Likewise, Pierce Brosnan and James Coburn gamely play along with this "A Francis Megahy Film," which is a fake "British documentary" about a Hollywood scandal involving call girls. There's already been a real British documentary about a real Hollywood scandal involving real call girls, which proved that reality is always more entertaining than the fiction Tinseltown cooks up. But the real documentary had Heidi Fleiss yammering on the phone, and this one has Kari Wuhrer lounging around a pool in a very flattering bathing suit. Perception? Reality? FREEZE-FRAME.
LEWIS & CLARK & GEORGE
BMG
Slogan: Two guys. A sexy girl. A stash of gold. Sounds like trouble.
Of course Paul Bartel is in this flick. The sad infatuation that the urban hipoisie have with poor white trash must stop. You just know that after thrifting all the can-you-believe-it set decorations, the filmmakers repaired to their SoHo loft to argue over which restaurant was truly of-the-moment and therefore deserving of their presence. Yeah, I'm talking to you, Mr. "A Film by Rod McCall," who substitutes easy, cynical attitude for comedy. Or maybe drama. It's hard to tell anymore. The Ben Vaughn soundtrack is nice, but the photo of Rose McGowan (George) on the box is the same one as on the cover of the excellent Henry Mancini tribute CD, Shots in the Dark. Confused, I turned to "Richard's Rose McGowan Page" on the World Wide Web: "Rose McGowan is one of the most talented young actresses in films today. Her acting seems to cut through any status-quo, pretentious tendencies that actors young and old tend to emulate. Because of her unique talent, Rose McGowan has been cast in many independant [sic] films." Well, that settles it, but Rose's taste in projects needs to become a bit more unique. EJECT.
WATCH THIS TAPE, WIN $10,000 INSTANTLY
98.7 WMZQ
Slogan: You May Already Have Won!
I'm in a select crowd! That's one message I got from this tape that arrived unexpectedly in my mailbox. Taking a break from freeze-framing Kari Wuhrer, I was also informed by the frightening DJ team of Murphy & Cash that country music is not "that twangy old stuff" (thank gosh!) and heard the creepy pair joyfully admit that "we don't actually choose the music" (thank gosh!). Tragically, I did not win $10,000 instantly, but this video proved invaluable nonetheless. Now when the soulless undead rise and walk the Earth, I will be able to recognize them—for I have seen Murphy & Cash. BULK-ERASE.
JUST SO YOU KNOW: From the liner notes to SHADOW DANCER (New Horizons. Slogan: Dancing Away With Murder): "At a Los Angeles strip club, provocative Narina is the undisputed star. But when Narina and her friend, Dee, are performing a daringly erotic routine, the lights go out and Dee is stabbed to death. All the evidence points to Narina, and Narina herself feels she may be guilty because of her own dark secret—she has killed before." I like that "daringly erotic routine" bit. Not enough to watch, though.
Next month: Sheentastic!
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