Rated 5/10Disappointing attempt at modernizing the old vampire story, at least for 1970 standards. The acting is not a problem, but the pace is lethargic. For me typically, slow pace and character development is not a problem, but there's no payoff here as it all leads up to a completely clumsy climax mired in staggeringly inept lighting. Since that closing sequence all takes place in a spooky mansion, dark lighting might have added some atmosphere, but instead, it looks like every light in the house is turned on. Each shot casts huge shadows on the wall that are distracting and amateurish. And since when are vampires killed by a wooden stake to the stomach?
Not recommended unless you're bored or simply need a nap.
Rated 6/10Like Chinatown, it's amusing to watch the film intelligentsia fantasize greatness on flawed works because of aggrandized perceptions of grandeur. Books I've read on the development of that Polanski film (an almost accidental classic) are far more telling of the many baffling and enigmatic twists and turns in the script, which somehow were misread by the critics -- and ultimately, history -- as intentional genius. The same thing happened with certain psychedelic music that was, for the most part, stoned people experimenting with studio gadgets and not the artistic masterpieces we've been indoctrinated to accept them to be.
In the 70's (and occasionally the late 60's and early 80's), directors toyed with a new freedom and studios actually allowed them to break rules that might tank boxoffice aspirations. The end result was quirky films with highlights, lowlights, and a string of segments that are experimental. Some worked, some didn't. In most cases, they were nice little cult films that satisfied a smaller audience that was sick of derivative and trendy crowd-pleasers. Characteristics of the form: some really brilliant scenes, solid performances, excellent cinematography...but also a good chunk of screen time devoted to elongated directorial affectations which allowed the film to be tagged "American cinema" rather than "a movie". Electra Glide in Blue, for example, has developed a cult following, despite doing little business and an indifferent reception.
How was the game played? Find a nifty, lesser-known novel, adapt for screen. Cast the best new rising stars, capable of keeping viewers glued to the screen with their charisma even when working with diffident material. Hire a grade-A crew that can make it all look and sound flawless. Finally, when editing, keep a lot of the scenes in the final cut that conventional producers would insist be trimmed. Within a few years, one of those projects may either become a sleeper hit, or some critic will hail you as an artist, making you into a media darling. By that point, your endeavors are all high profile and the promotional material will state, "A film by...", making you a household name.
Of course not every director ended up as Cannes artists; instead, their films ended up in the obscurity box, possibly getting rediscovered while evaluating the careers of one of those rising stars. In this case, Jeff Bridges, who has always done fine work, but is sadly relegated to being merely "The Dude" by malnourished film audiences. Perhaps The Coens were inspired by this film, but Bridges, his character, and that movie have as much in common with Cutter's Way as with Stay Hungry. Real film fans need to explore more of Bridges' 70's output and to get over the whole Dude fad. Cutter's Way - like a number of those early appearances -- is intriguing and unorthodox, but not profound.
Rated 6/10Val Lewton is a deeply respected hero of American cinema, but his works are best appreciated without scholars telling you why Lewton's contributions are so important. To begin with, it's disrespectful to the directors of Lewton's films to have film historians waxing on about every detail and crediting Lewton almost exclusively, as if he was the director. In the event that you never noticed before, Hollywood is collectively its own biggest fan. Watching Turner Classic Movies on a regular basis will expose you to film experts and movie people gushing over past works as if they were God himself, or perhaps interim Dr. Frankensteins acting as proxy creators. Martin Scorsese is almost as well known for his embellishments on the topic as he is for his own pictures.
Val Lewton: The Man in the Shadows is a library of prose praising the visual style, the dialog, the lighting, the mood -- attributes normally credited to the director, as if the actual directors of these films were merely showing up and collecting a check while Lewton commandeered every job on and off the set. The fault is, as noted before, the self-referential adoration from the industry itself of its own offspring. Imagine for a moment having to hear such praise of one's work from carpenters, mechanics, teachers, civil servants, construction crews...it would be appalling to be subjected to poetic essays on the greatness of their jobs which are, truth be known, of much greater significance to society as a whole.
The moral of the story: the entertainment industry needs to get over itself, do its job and go home. The single benefit of this production is that the films highlighted can be looked at as more detailed trailers, even though the films represented are quite a bit overstated. Let movies entertain you and forget the idea that experts need to teach you how to enjoy them.
Rated 4/10A bit of a mess, more due to a flawed story than anything else, since the film is technically solid. Like The Exorcist, the playful swagger between daughter and parents (especially mom) is a bit much, but at least Susan Swift's performance isn't precocious like so many child stars from this era (ie, Quinn Cummings in The Goodbye Girl, another Marsha Mason sighting.)
According to the story's flowery logic, the title character is a reincarnated soul in the body of Ivy Templeton, having entered her body at birth, which was the same time as Audrey's death in an automobile accident. Now we have to be convinced of this, first by the urging of Audrey's father (Anthony Hopkins), then by a series of events that end up in a court trial. The witnesses include some mystical folk who explain their unique India ways to our cynical Western onlookers.
The closing screen epilogue is a shot of the sun with these words superimposed:
"There is no end. For the soul there is
never birth nor death. Nor, having once been,
does it ever cease to be, It is unborn.
eternal, ever-existing, undying and primeval..."
THE BHAGAVAD-GITA
Audrey's father in the film wants to be a part of Ivy's life since, in his mind, it's his daughter. But by the story's reincarnation logic, isn't everybody in the same boat? If this is true, shouldn't every deceased child be subjected to multiple parental figures sharing in that duty every time a psychic makes such claims? What exactly the story is suggesting should have been done is beyond me, so we have a scenario without a foundation.
Paradoxes aside, having to hear long, detailed, high-pitched screaming from a young girl in several different sequences was torturous to endure. I really wanted to stop the movie just to make it end.
So overall, watching Audrey Rose provided me with no entertainment value, even though it was a well-made film. It happens.
If Wolfman Jack is...an example of American radio presenters...then American commercial radio is rubbish!
It's absurd to judge American radio based on a character in a 40+ year-old film based on his real-life persona from the infancy of rock & roll. He was a gimmick from the early days of rock and roll and was not similar to any other DJ I am aware of. There were a small number of other DJ's who used unique voices, personalities, and other shenanigans to make their programs stand apart from their competing platter pushers. The moniker of Wolfman Jack was no doubt inspired by rock & roll radio pioneer Alan Freed's air name of Moondog (and the accompanying wolf howl sample used on his shows.)
Wolfman's presence in the film is based on his outlaw status on the radio in the early 60's on the Mexican border radio station known as "The X" (ZZ Top has a song called "Heard It on the X" which is about that station.) The station could be picked up throughout most of North America back then and so Wolfman was a national voice delivering the rock & roll goods to young people who were mostly fed easy listening, soft pop, country...most anything but rock & roll and R&B. It may seem annoying today, but most millennials I know are just as intolerant of 99% of music from this era, so it's clearly a generational chasm.
That said, I was as disappointed as everybody else by Wolfman's voice-overs on the soundtrack album.
@23skidoo...
Yeah, that's correct...but also incorrect.
I hate the fact that the genre is called Children & Family, as if the two are the same. Many children shows (ie, Barney, etc.) I would not consider family by any stretch of the imagination; at the same time, there are countless family shows that are explicitly not categorized as children. I really wish that the "children" part of the genre was purged since it misrepresents so many shows (and movies over on the Cinema world). So, in this case, family is very much a unifying thread throughout the show, but children...erm, no.
Oh, and the family part of the show is one of things that makes this show unique, since so many episodes intersect Chad's family life with his work (ie, his teens protesting and having friends getting mixed up with drugs, etc.)
Rated 8/10On paper, this appears so predictable, the story of a single mom (Andy) raising a son (Joshua) who wants to be a cheerleader. Joshua's male role models are Andy's slacker brother, Alex (played by Carrie Preston's real life brother, John), who ends up crashing at the house, and Charlie, the gay next door neighbor, played by Michael Emerson (Carrie's real life husband!) The nuns at Joshua's school don't quite know what to make of the boy's adamant, impenetrable eagerness for being on the squad. There's your setup. And frankly, it sounds exactly like the kind of film Hollywood likes to use as a teachable moment by winning the viewer over with empathetic characters which will plant seeds of tolerance.
Amazingly, director James Vasquez didn't take that easy road and the film is better for it. It's a light comedy and stays that way for most of the film, with the bubbly enthusiasm of Joshua (a spirited performance from Lurie Poston) never allowing room for exaggerated or touchy-feely angst. In fact, he seems completely oblivious to any element of sexuality, despite the fact that every adult in the film has to dance around the subject that young Joshua never acknowledges.
It doesn't sound like this scenario could play out to be an entertaining film, but it does. The cast is terrific: Carrie Preston is cute & perky and has great comic timing, Tara Karsian as Sister Vivian also provides some laughs as the nun trying to deal with Joshua's unwaivering goal, and Michael Emerson as Charlie resists the clichés to create a more interesting character who doesn't rest on his stereotypes.
Ready? OK! is funny and smart, yet played feather light. There's probably a lesson hidden somewhere in all of this, but if so, you're definitely not beaten over the head with it.
Rated 8/10"A perfectly beautiful hustle crumbles at the core."
WUSA is an establishment counter-culture product from an era in which directors were given more artistic freedom from the Hollywood system than in the past. And like so many pro-revolution offerings from that generation, cracks in the pavement are also revealed, unsimplifying what modern Hollywood now feeds us as monaural political cosmogeny.
Paul Newman is a drifter who is hired as disc-jockey and mouthpiece of an influential right-wing radio station. Joanne Woodward is his girl and Anthony Perkins is Rainey, a social worker investigating welfare statistics. After a conversation with an underground newspaper writer, Rainey learns of WUSA's outrageous agenda to end government funding of the poor.
Many one-dimensional stereotypes and rigged optics skew the portrayal of protagonists and antagonists, severely obstructing the plausibility of the story's "right wing conspiracy". That in itself is so far-fetched it's remarkable to find subverted in such a stunningly attractive canvas. The cast is nearly flawless, the dialogue rich and the cinematography opulent. Toss aside the paranoid abnormalities and take in the rare look at late-60's New Orleans, garnished with a talented cast in top form (including a tasty buffet of support players!)
Two decades later, Tim Robbins would take a similar path (through an Oliver Stone prism) with Bob Roberts -- again, very visual, but taking unfair advantage of the credulity of his audience. Unlike Robbins' diatribe, Newman delivers a sympathetic and convincing messenger with an ambivalent palette of rebellion inside his own moral core. This dichotomy is stingingly pronounced when delivering his convention speech in the third act -- a scene otherwise embellished with radically manufactured melodrama.
Despite the internal flaws, WUSA is a highly recommended experience, a technical showpiece lost in the shuffle from an overflowingly influential era. Director Stuart Rosenberg directed a number of lost gems in the 70's (Move, The Laughing Policeman, Pocket Money, The Drowning Pool -- the latter two also featuring Paul Newman), none of which could put a dent in his success with 1967's Cool Hand Luke. Notable is Lalo Schifrin's score and a good Neil Diamond song, "Glory Road". Also look for a solemn musical performance by the Preservation Hall Jazz Band.
I said highjacking “a” story, and that was a generalization (following mention of two additional film adaptations) - it was not intended as a declaration that he did so to any of the films specifically, just a metaphor about the control a director may have over source material. For example, the visual pace and the way the music is married to those images.
Preemptive strike:
Likewise, my comment, Kubrick steals the ownership of the stories he adapts should not be misconstrued. I won’t bother to explain (or defend) that one, but it’s not derogatory. (After all, what pops in your head when someone says “A Clockwork Orange”? The book?)
Rated 7/10The heredity is most certainly in place, but many don’t like to connect this sequel to the original 2001: A Space Odyssey for a number of (valid) reasons. No, it doesn’t feel like the original in any way -- mostly because Stanley Kubrick steals the ownership of the stories he adapts. For example, in 2001, the film was completely Kubrick’s vision and not Clarke’s. He did the same with A Clockwork Orange (much to the chagrin of Anthony Burgess) and with The Shining (much to the chagrin of Stephen King). Whether hijacking a story is a good practice for filmmaking remains open to debate, but the fact of the matter is, that is the way Kubrick made films. The original was not a space opera, as the cliché goes, but a space ballet, submerged in mysterious optics which fascinated audiences from 1968 to present. For that reason, it became one of the great films that will be forever referenced. A sequel? Certainly the ending left viewers perplexed and longing for some explanations. The possibility of a satisfactory expansion is the core appeal.
2010 begins with the disadvantage of existing in a decade that was rife with shiny sci-fi packages inspired by Steven Spielberg. That means that deep, complex explorations are reduced to teen level Classics Illustrated fare. It’s certainly easy enough to digest for even the least sophisticated audience, coupled with the feel-good adventure motif that drove so many boxoffice hits in this era.
Speaking of era, 2010 was also released at the peak of cold war hysteria as the world sat on pins & needles anticipating a global nuclear conflict between the USA and the USSR. Hollywood exploited this paranoia frequently, which was not an expressly bad idea, since writers experienced great results exploring the unthinkable scenario. It's rather clumsily implemented here, however, resulting in a pedestrian ending.
If you like your sci-fi lite and uncomplicated, this is above average for it’s 80s ilk, but if you seek mathematically abstract and complex enigmas, you’ll likely be disappointed.
Rated 6/10Yet another take on the Ed Gein story. The period settings are convincing and Railsback does a fine job, but the film spends too much effort hammering the same old Christianity drives people to become serial killers opinion into the story. Gein was far too devious to be reduced to such a cliché and every time the film dragged too long on setups, it continued to return to that theme, reducing it to bog standard genericana.
Rated 9/10Delivered in Euro arthouse style, you'd almost get the impression that the film may draw too much attention to its own visual and verbal styles. But dammit, it works. If Anne Bancroft's breathtaking performance stops amazing you (how?), switch gears and study the magnificent black & white cinematography with it's perfect setups and lighting embellishments. This could have been a bog standard Elizabeth Taylor oater in less capable hands, but I never felt that director Jack Clayton overplayed his hand.
For certain this depressing drama is not for everybody and every mood, but one cannot deny that it stands as a piece of art. For better or worse, essential viewing for any serious student of film or acting.
Rated 4/10For anyone who missed out on the inane spectacle known as hippies, here is a glossed-over version put to film a decade after the fact, a time when they were dismissed for what they were. Hence the boxoffice failure. Miloš Forman's hippies are all so shined up in brand new threads that look like they just came off a movie studio's wardrobe department rack. Real hippies never looked like this, nor were they ever the athletic, dancing heroes this dopey musical depicts them as. Even an acid trip is completely misrepresented in true Hollywood fashion, as doled out in Central Park by a pseudo priest with a Communist star painted on his face.
The two most famous tunes from the Broadway play, the title song and "Aquarius", are mere scenes with no significant impression made by either, both ineptly reprised back-to-back for a big feel-good ending. On the other hand, Cheryl Barnes's performance of "Easy to Be Hard" (a hit for Three Dog Night in 1969) is the centerpiece of one of the film's best moments, along with the amusing "White Boys" (featuring Nell Carter and The Stylistics!)
Pompously, the world Hair lives in is filled with two kinds of people: righteous hippies and disconnected establishment white folk. Don't get me wrong -- when I was young and knew nothing about life and the real world, I bought into all of this sort of foolishness, as well. But I matured and outgrew it along with believing there were monsters under the bed. It would be entertaining if the principals didn't believe in their dizzy excuse for ideals. Even children know that the real world is not made up of superheroes and cartoon characters.
This is the era when Hollywood decided to re-examine the counter-culture and its components -- namely, Vietnam, an on-going theme they never let go of, seating the idea that they are a political force. A year earlier, Coming Home; later that year it was The Deer Hunter, several months later, Apocalypse Now. Tinseltown's catharsis -- further solidified by as many Oscar nominations and wins as they could possibly hack up.
If they absolutely had to make this film, it should have been no later than 1970. In this form, it's more Fame than Woodstock. It's the same self-centered pretentiousness either way. Perhaps one day the Occupy Wall Street movement will be interpreted as a liberating, jubilant love story with humanity and morality at its core, while a congestion of vibrant musical passages bind the mission of glory. Ugh...
Rated 5/10I wanted to like this flimsy attempt at being a horror flick -- and that climax stands alone, I've never seen any similar scene in any other film. It does make a really cool trailer (it's on YouTube, look it up...its only flaw is that it makes the movie itself appear to be worth watching.) One of the problems is that it was released in 1968, a time when some producers felt they needed to be modern, which results in tacky, outdated sequences. The music score is also a notable obstacle, with liberal chunks of jazz music that is loud, smoky, and completely out of step with what is happening on screen. The storyline is pretty thin, as well. Most every element of the film is flawed. File this one in the "Films That Waste Peter Cushing" folder.
By spherical, that is to say non-anamorphic (so widescreen by proxy, but not "proper" widescreen, which would be 2.35:1 / 2.40:1...squeezed to fit into a 1.37:1 frame, then expanded out by the lense to fill the 2.35:1 screen.)
I made that capture from my copy which I ripped from a TCM broadcast.
Apparently the film was spherical, shot in 1.37:1 aspect ratio, then matted to 1.85:1 -- a rather common practice even today. The full height of the film was never intended to be seen and when running in theaters was matted via the projector's aperture plate. I have a number of films taken from VHS or broadcast that show the full height, while only the matted version is available in DVD. Sometimes that additional space will reveal microphones, crew members, etc.
Note that not every non-anamorphic widescreen (1.85:1) film has that extra information, as some are matted in the lab and that space is just black on the top and bottom of the 35mm film frame.
Apparently Sony has released this on DVD-R on demand; I assume it's widescreen, but have no idea. All the online stores have it, though.
Rated 4/10I remember reading about this in Famous Monsters when I was a kid. Actually, I probably just looked at the cool pictures. Who knew the movie was such a turkey. For me, the stupidness makes it all the better. And make no mistake about it, this is bad like an Arch Hall film. If I'd known that, I would have sought it out long ago.
Rated 7/10Could have been a great movie, but it's a long way from that. Richard Dreyfuss delivers his best ever performance (which nabbed him the best actor Oscar), but the film itself uses every cheap Hollywood trick and cookie-cutter convention in order to attempt being the classic it so desperately wants to be. You know you're in trouble when on-screen time passages are illustrated as culture montages, but when they're accompanied by songs from Jackson Browne and John Lennon, it's just a commercial break for stock film libraries. In fact, the messianic Lennon references are cloying at best. (Although Holland singing to his son was kinda sweet.) I realize average audiences probably enjoy pedestrian film-making like this in order to justify something or another; me, I'm just glad I only had to watch it once. It's not terrible but the great parts are mired by too many maudlin clichés. Jay Thomas turns in a great support role as the football coach.
Rated 8/10Trashy 80's exploitation fun. It's a Sean Cunningham film, so approach it from that angle first. Next, remember this was 1985. Even at the time of its release, the film wore its stonewash loud and proud. In it's simplest form, that's enough to give you an idea of what to expect.
Loren and Abby are the good-looking siblings of the title, newly relocated after the death of their parents to live with relatives in Florida who run a bargain basement amusement park. They seem to fit in and life is good until a local group of redneck scum teens make trouble. The leader, Eddie Dutra (James Spader), has the hots for Abby, but after she rejects him, he and his gang make trouble. It turns out our squeaky clean new kids are not as wholesome as they look and can defend themselves. But that's just where the ugliness begins.
Lots of edge-of-the-seat violence, a terrifically evil performance from Spader, and a thrilling climax at the amusement park are just some of the elements that make The New Kids an above-average entry in the action / exploitation / thriller genre(s). If you're inclined to this kind of film, you won't be disappointed.
Rated 7/10I've always been a trailer guy. One of the things that made me into a film geek was the rush I would get from watching trailers. Even TV spots for movies were good for a quick fix. One such spot for "When the Legends Die" (under its original title, "The Taming of Tom Black Bull") worked its magic on me and my little brother, leading us into the cinema to see what was far less exciting than we were promised by that 30-second commercial. The best part of that show, of course, was the Prevues of Coming Attractions preceding the film. The trailer that blew us away was for "The New Centurions", feeding us a seedier urban thoroughfare than we'd been getting from our weekly diet of Adam-12. That one stayed with us for years for some reason, but we were too young to see R-rated movies and had to just let it go. Thank goodness, since the film's action and thrills are weighed down by mature themes that were beyond the scope of what our young hearts were promised in those two minutes.
I was not expecting such a dark tone in this episodic, New Hollywood vision based on former L.A police officer Joseph Wambaugh's best-selling novel. It's convincing, the production is solid, and features a great cast (look for a small part from The Jeffersons' own Weezy as a prostitute!) You also get a bird's eye view of the uniquely American 1970's urban street scene. For all of the film's perks, however, it's depressing and very downbeat.
Rated 7/10I used to read a lot of British gaming magazines back in the 90's because they were very funny. Amiga Power was my favorite because they were particularly cruel whenever a bad game landed in their office. From the first issue, there was a feature called Oh Dear, which spotlighted the worst of the worst, usually in explicit detail. And through the entire 24 minutes of Heavy Metal Jr., those were the two words that bounced around in my brain.
I thought I'd seen it all, but obviously there is a new low that suggests to me that perhaps eugenics is not such a bad idea after all.
What we have here is a musical documentary about a new band comprised of kids age 10-13 who play heavy metal music. And they are simply terrible. They look bad, they play bad, and they're, if I may be frank, illiterate. Mind you, they can spell better than the lead singer's mother, who purchases a piece of cloth for the band featuring their name repeated several times so that they can cut them out and sew them onto their denim jackets. She seems genuinely surprised when her 10-year old son informs her that the word is spelled Hatred and not Hatrid. The band settle on the misspelled name, rather than waste a perfectly good fabric, presumably. And such a nice name, too.
While recording their songs to sell on CD-R at their upcoming first concert, that same mother expresses concern over the lyrics to their original song, "Two Gods Don't Make a Right", but it's rationed that it's actually a religious song since two gods indeed don't make a right. No explanation is given for their newest song, "Satan Rocks", which we are lucky enough to get the opportunity to watch the band compose. Marilyn Manson, the band's hero, would be so proud.
Heavy Metal Jr. plays and looks like a mockumentary because director Chris Waitt obviously sensed how ridiculous all of this was, but none of the participants seem to have a clue how absurdly pitiful they are. Even the manager for the band (father of the drummer) is not spared as he tries to explain to the boys how to "rock out", using the opportunity to showcase his vocal skills while the cameras were rolling. And he can sing, sounding like a cross between Geoff Tate and Bruce Dickinson. Sadly, none of that talent was inherited by his offspring, nor his mates.
I laughed my way through most of this film, but in reality, it's very sad. It's not because kids can't rock, because they can and do under better circumstances. These are simply miserable people with nothing to offer, but who feel the need to say something anyway. We laugh at them, not with them. The product of the modern day equivalent of the "me generation", which is better relegated to YouTube, but even then, why? If you suck, why advertise it?
I do have a copy of the film, so I will try to ink in another viewing (forty years later!) and see if it hits me differently. That said, I am reasonably poor (financially) and harbor no disdain towards those with more money than me -- even those excessively rich snobs of the world. I am happy with what I do have and don't respond to class division by money or any other means. :)
I wanted to love it, saw it in the original theatrical release. Watched the trailer many times a month prior to the showing. It looked like a fun Neil Simon comedy like many before it (and after). Also a huge fan of both Lemmon and Bancroft. But I squirmed in my seat and felt exhausted by the catalog of terrible things happening to the main characters, compounded by the punishing assault of the two shouting at one another. A feel-bad comedy, if you will. It was depressing to watch. I don't recall any hope in the film. Having seen director Melvin Frank's A Touch of Class the year before, I was expecting some of the same charm and wit, but it sure was not to be found here. Matter of fact, I didn't even see it as a comedy. I just found no laughs in all of the bad things happening to Mel and Edna, never mind being amused watching a man having a nervous breakdown. It just didn't work for me.
Rated 6/10Before the Germans invaded the USSR and surrounding territories in 1941, everyone and everything about life in Kiev was paradise, heaven on Earth. Singing, dancing, romance, opportunity, national pride, family values, and a strong passion for work! Never a (Uk)rainy day. So says Samuel Goldwyn in RKO's obligatory entry in the pro-Soviet propaganda series created to appease the war effort. Broadly overdone in many areas, it often resembles a cartoon. But for all the collectivist, Marxist glory in the opening reel, the genocidal starvation of at least five million Ukrainians would have been a more realistic first act. Don't forget to clench tightly to the heavy-handed final speech by Anne Baxter, followed by majestic closing credits score.
Mind you, I like fantasy films, but just a few years prior, The Wizard of Oz created high expectations for the genre that "The North Star" just couldn't compete with.
Rated 3/10Cult favorite, but damned if I know why. I wanted to see this film badly when I was a kid and had to wait years before it turned up on the late show. Boy, what a letdown. Terrible acting, ridiculous lighting, amateurish production...but worst of all was that it was not scary. It wasn't even funny. All that anxiety to see a horror flick that sucks. It looks nicer in (matted) 1.85:1 than it did on the worn 16mm TV print, but it's the same lame movie, only in widescreen. Some folks love it; me, I don't get it, so I put in in the same category as Basket Case: Stupid Horror Films With Great Title and Great Poster, But Don't Live Up to Their Cult Status.
Rated 8/10I could swear this film played a heavy influence on Tom Laughlin's Billy Jack, which was released two years later. The latter film featured a character named Barbara (as in Hershey) whose droopy hippie-style appearance is similar, a violent rape scene, racial injustice towards Indians, and a main character who acts out his pacifism with brutal violence who is lectured by a strong woman for that very dichotomy. Hmmm.
Another interesting twist is that the MPAA awarded the film a G rating upon its release in 1969, despite heavy violence and a gratuitous shot of saloon girl Angelique Pettyjohn in the bedroom, something I was not expecting. And all of this was for a family audience?!? IMDb lists the rating as M, which was an early incantation of PG. Still...
Heaven with a Gun didn't seem like a likely contender for a digital release, but.is now available in the Warner Archive Collection. Despite some heavy-handed turns in the script, it's a highly enjoyable exploitation western.