Rated 6/10A terrible era for film begets a film that is so bad it's...well, laughably bad. Or, as the producers might say, Laughable Bad 2. (they don't know an adjective from an adverb, do they?) Enough time has passed to where we can start embracing...erm, rather, enduring the grade-z mush that filled the VHS shelves at the end of its cycle. Welcome to a world where a 6-star rating is equal to a 1-star rating. It depends on your tolerance for camp. Recommendation: life is short, watch something else.
Rated 8/10Very emotional dramatization of Chile's own 9/11 in 1973. A valid demonstration of political extremes from both sides destroying innocent people, as seen through the eyes of children, to illustrate the point. Throughout most of the film, the story is told effectively, although near the end Gonzalo returns home and stares at the renovation going on in his home - which conveniently provides a broad contrast to the horrors he just witnessed by Pinochet's military. I didn't feel it was necessary to make such an obvious conclusion about the social class division, particularly at such a crucial part of the film. That critique aside, Machuca is a moving story that takes place during a tragic episode of Chilean history, putting the spotlight on an event that is rarely addressed (and was actually more horrific than the film reveals.)
Rated 7/10I imagine this was an effective thriller in 1960 for drive-in audiences, as well as the kids on Saturday afternoon matinées. Two dinosaurs and a caveman are awoken from a sleep state in the Caribbean Sea by construction workers on an island. One dinosaur is kid-friendly, the other a bloodthirsty Tyrannosaurus Rex, while our Neanderthal is mostly played for laughs.
The dinosaurs are fairly effective on their own -- much more convincing than Godzilla several years prior - but when those dinosaurs have to appear onscreen with humans, the difference in film stock make the rear-screen projection look ridiculous. Not that there's any shortage of absurdity in the screenplay, like little Julio's conversations with the endearing Brontosaurus, or love interest Betty singing to our hapless troglodyte, or the clumsy lighting that casts massive shadows in all the night scenes.
Yet for all its faults, Dinosaurus! still manages to entertain. It isn't so poor that you can't turn off your brain and just go with it.
Rated 9/10I never thought Tom Arnold was very funny. I gave all of his stuff a chance, but not until True Lies did I ever see his shtick work. Despite that, I expected "The Stupids" to be what most people think it is anyway: stupid.
I was dragged to the cinema to see it by a couple of friends. One of them thought it was just OK, the other thought it was the worst film he'd ever seen. The latter friend, however, still laughed because during the movie, one man in the back of the room laughed hysterically at every joke, every gag. It was a great, infectious laugh and forced you to laugh along with him. Oh, there was only one other person in the theater...yes, it completely tanked at the boxoffice. Me, I thought the whole affair was brilliantly...stupid. That's kinda the whole point, which goes over most people's heads.
My tastes rarely align with the folks who listen to bland pop music, watch reality shows, read People magazine, or wear the latest fashions. If you're one of the Joneses, don't expect to get much from this under-appreciated John Landis satire. If you color outside the lines, however, you might wanna give this one another try, if only for "I'm My Own Grandpa".
Rated 7/10Certainly one of the most inane thrillers of our time. Still, I can't get enough of films this bad, especially when the incompetent filmmakers appear to have had no idea what a turd they were creating. Some of the most embarrassing acting to ever disgrace the screen from folks like Charlton Heston, Karen Black, Sid Caesar, Myrna Loy, Erik Estrada, Gloria Swanson, Susan Clark, and even F-Troop's Larry Storch! Some performers manage to save some face (Efrem Zimbalist, Dana Andrews, Roy Thinnes - all wasted). The best line in the whole film -- and there's a lot of competition -- is delivered by Linda Blair, who plays a sick teenager en route to receive a kidney transplant. As her mother tries to convince her to get some rest, she explains how difficult that task is because "People are so interesting!" And don't even get me started on Helen Reddy's singing nun...
Rated 7/10Yet another offbeat film journey from the warped mind of Robert Downey, Sr. (an acquired taste, indeed.) Allan Arbus (possibly the only normal person in Downey's Putney Swope) is the Christ-like Jessy, who walks on water and performs miracles casually on his journey to audition his song-and-dance routine in Jerusalem. He ultimately gets his big audition at the saloon owned by badass outlaw/killer, Seaweedhead Greaser (who kills his own son several times in the film...) I read an apt summary once on a blog that described Greaser's Palace as a cross between "El Topo" and "The Life of Brian", although this was released years before Monty Python went there. If you're just looking for something different, this is it. If you love offbeat, quirky cult films, you'll probably love it.
Rated 5/10Most of the name cast looks like they invested 1-2 days to shoot their parts, with the majority of the screen time occupied by Richard Harris and Justin Henry. Both are annoying, truth be told, so by their occupying most of the film puts it at a disadvantage from the starting gate. Very often, Canada-isms get shoved to the forefront, but on the flip side, the locations do look pretty nice and remind me of my one and only trip there. And I always appreciate watching Lindsay Wagner.
The storyline seems to be a mere excuse to trumpet a handful of social issues (ie, teen incarceration creates innocent criminals, parental issues, environmental concerns, etc.) Most of those are served up with music so thick in melodrama that it has the opposite of the intended effect.
There's no real reason to seek this one out, but if you have insomnia and it's on the late, late show, it's not a total loss.
Nothing about the film merits sitting through it, but the acting is particularly poor. The support players are all nobodies because none of them have any talent. The two "stars", Kris Kristofferson and DMX, amateurishly attempt to create some semblance of the buddy motif that has been beaten over moviegoers heads ever since the success of the first Lethal Weapon film. Kristofferson is such an old codger at this stage, and he attempts to replicate the witty repartee Nick Nolte enjoyed with Eddie Murphy in 48 HRS by babbling on about Willie Nelson. We're supposed to be amused by this and the incoherent, mumbled responses by rapper DMX, but since the latter star has the same talent as the no-namers, the only word that can even be understood is "fuck".
Waste an hour and a half of your life at your own peril.
Rated 2/10It looks like a corny TV-movie -- and it's still perched up on its self-righteous high horse, but nowhere near as heavy-handed as the previous Billy Jack flick. Laughlin claims the Nixon White House had this film blocked from release because the public couldn't handle the political realities herein. If you have the misfortune to see it, you'll know that is just stupid. Even in 1977, this film was bound for the shelf because word of mouth would kill any remaining interest in the series. The fact remains that after the sermonizing final choruses of "Give Peace a Chance" filled up the final reel of The Trial of Billy Jack, audiences were done with Billy. The reason for the success of the first two BJ movies (The Born Losers and Billy Jack) was that they were exploitation films that had sex, violence, and over-the-top bad guys. The Laughlins believed it was because the of their political subtext. Wrong.
Rated 5/10Yet another flawed indie movie, dragged down by an over-emphasized performance from Michelle Monaghan, who appears to be posing for promo shots in every scene. Like so much modern product from the "new independent cinema", every seemingly normal convention is turned around in an attempt to show gritty reality, and like standard Hollywood cinema, it's so riddled with clichés that it's no more believable. The camera shots, music selections, language -- all meticulously staged and artificial. Benjamin Bratt and Jimmy Bennett deliver good performances in spite of the lousy material.
Rated 7/10It was poorly made, badly acted, and pure exploitation of the lamest music genre ever. But dammit, it was fun. Sure, Jeff Goldblum's early performance is an embarrassment, but teenage Terri Nunn is a total hoot. The late disco diva, Paul Jabara, is also a campy treat. Then there's Donna Summer, the Commodores, and a truckload of Casablanca Records disco music. The dopiest scene is perhaps the roadie for the Commodores trying to prove to a cop that he's with the band, completely stupid. Or the dancing Hispanic, Marv the Leatherman, who proclaims, "I love to dance...everything else is boolshit!" Still, I liked the movie, all of it.
Rated 7/10This is the one that started the whole whale harpoon vs. pistol showdown craze. The opening sequence is a trailer for the ending, which was a very strange device in a film not afraid of strange devices. Sebastian Cabot is particularly impressive. Other than the obvious twist, this was a rather generic, if offbeat, western.
Rated 5/10What a difficult film to rate. For the average viewer, it's an easy 1-star and probably the worst film you will ever see. But for the cult movie fan, how far is too far?
Over the years, I have seen this film name-dropped in various psychotronic zines, but I have always turned away and pretended to see nothing. As a fan of H.G. Lewis from way back, it just didn't seem conceivable that he could have a kiddie matinée in his filmography, not the guy who gave us gouged-out tongues, feasts made of internal organs, wacky fun-loving psychotic redneck ghosts, and the first horror film to delve into the wig fetish thing. The only saving grace is the fact that Lewis was at least a competent film maker, albeit in a grindhouse world. Certainly not in the realm of trash like "Santa and the Ice Cream Bunny"! WRONG.
It is the first day of school and little Jimmy wishes time would stop, so in true unexplainable fashion, a magical (and portly) woman named Aurora appears, which leads the two on a journey to the world's end to restart time, while a ridiculous adversary, a wizard named Mr. Fig, does everything to hinder their quest. Along the way, the world gets tinted red and then blue (and then red and blue!), they get redirected to a land of slow-motion, stumble upon a fountain of laughing syrup, and inexplicably encounter a group of what we are supposed to believe are hostile Indians who look like frat boys with New England accents, that are ultimately consoled when Aurora creates a shower of beans. The injuns, Aurora, and Jimmy all eat uncooked beans from a cauldron while singing a terrible song detailing the sheer wonderfulness of this tasty snack.
Oh, there are other songs, too, all sung barely in-sync and with the same animated gestures you might expect from a play performed by second graders. Like all of the very worst children's films of all time, the origin is yet again, Florida. Why is that? Every time a news story comes on about a horrible crime against children, kids buried alive, tortured by parents, etc. ...it always ends up happening in Florida. And it seems every time an atrocity from the kiddie matinée galaxy is unearthed from someone's basement, the filming location is Florida. I used to like that state when I was a kid and it was all about St. Petersburg, Tampa, Miami Beach, Busch Gardens, and that whole beautiful parrot thing. But now, it's a children's torture dungeon.
Like the previously mentioned Santa film, in the middle of the action, we get whisked into another film (presumably because Lewis ran low on 8mm film stock), which turns out to be an imported cartoon. It teaches a lesson to Jimmy only because of H.G.'s clever dubbing skills, but even that lesson is highly suspect: Jimmy complains that he's only eight and a half years old, just a kid, tired and wants to go back home...he's famished from all of this action, but Aurora lies to him and tells him the story of another boy who never gave up. I guess she's pro child labor, I dunno, but the real labor pains are on the screen.
It should go without saying that the acting is godawful. How they came to choose young Dennis Jones to star in the title role of a theatrical feature film is mind-numbing. He possesses no charisma, no speaking (or singing) talent, is visually as generic as a faceless window mannequin, and brings nothing to the role that might possibly involve a young viewer to identify or sympathize with him. Oh, like they were gonna hire an actor! My guess is that Lewis cast the son of the guy who owned the cheapo amusement park where they filmed this as a trade-out. I've seen stalks of celery give stronger performances.
This doesn't look or feel like what you would expect an H.G. Lewis family film to look or feel like. More like John Waters. If you seek more convincing, heart-warming, feel-good family fare, you'd be better off surfing over to YouTube and searching for old Cracker Jack commercials.
In conclusion, this may well be one of the best films ever made.
Rated 4/10I am not a fan of Troma films for a number of reasons. "Creep Van" is a Detroit-based low-budget Troma wannabe, but it manages to capture all the contrived, unfunny magic of its influences. (Lloyd Kaufman even makes a cameo!) Attempts at humor miss 99% of the time, while the weak cast and their attempts at acting are campy at best and cringe-inducing at worst. The weakest link is the half-baked screenplay which, among other sins, never explains why any of this carnage is happening, instead relying on inconsistencies, plot holes and meandering dialogue. And there are three credited writers! The gorehounds will appreciate the creative kills which are more reminiscent of 80s slashers rather than modern day torture porn and found footage rubbish, but that doesn't forgive the tepid filler that ties it all together. And it's never scary, tension and suspense never make so much as a cameo.
Good movie? Not a chance. Loads of gore (no CGI!) with some nudity and mildly twisted sex? Check. I believe Scott McKinlay may have a good film in him one day, but he needs to at least start with a professional script, followed by actual acting talent. "Creep Van" is better than most of those direct-to-video cheapies found on those gutter trash compilations, but that doesn't make it a thumbs up.
Rated 7/10A lot of people don't care for this film and dismiss it on points which are largely misunderstood. It's not a horror film that lacks logic, believability and sufficient tension. It's another of Tobe Hooper's satirical dissections of the family unit cloaked in outrageous horror tropes. Mind you, "Mortuary" has its share of flaws (notably some poor CGI during the film's climax) , but it's also entertaining in a manner not unlike Hooper's "Eaten Alive", "Poltergeist" and even "The Funhouse", just ramped up a bit more on its own absurdist terms.
If you watch "Mortuary" from this perspective, you will appreciate the sometimes laugh-out-loud humor rather than abolish the whimsical direction which is misconstrued as serious horror. Lighten up, horror fans. Even "The Texas Chain Saw Massacre" frequently snickered at its own fearful premise.
Rated 6/10Interesting character study that seems to promote the misguided notion that if a wife screws around and has sex with another guy, the husband should get over it. The wife's reason? "Because I wanted to." The screenplay repeats the mantra that the man who walks away from such a situation is the asshole.
Solid cast and all the technical aspects are bulletproof, but the crazy free love heart of the film is so hippy dippy and unrealistic that it sabotages what should have been a deep and introspective piece of work. It's worth watching, in spite of the foolish concepts.
Rated 6/10Manhandled could so easily have become a servicable slice of film noir, but instead only gives us a few references to that genre, opting instead to bursts of tongue-in-cheek humor and ham-fisted crime investigations. The film opens with a tasty murder sequence, as a writer (Alan Napier) is explaining to his psychiatrist that this is a recurring dream that has been troubling him. Even in 1949, one would know better than to reveal such a dream to anyone, let alone a shrink with his new secretary (Dorothy Lamour) standing by jotting down notes of the session. That is typical of the implausibility that routinely plagues the storyline. Later, a detective and insurance investigator casually pop pills to test a suspect's story, that taking amphetamines before barbituates will counteract the effect. According to the script, it does. Many lame plot devices later, it's still a fairly entertaining b-movie that doesn't even try to rise any higher than pulp fluff.
Rated 4/10Had this been an even-handed film about the role of politicians and their power to vote on issues affecting gay Americans, it would have been fascinating. The topic is ripe for exploration and many valid points are worthy of an investigative approach. Sadly, "Outrage" is yet another partisan hit piece disguised as a balanced documentary.
I am anti-partisan and have little use for the two main USA parties destroying each other, never mind their inane movies that posture their talking points into self aggrandizing set pieces. I feared this might be one of them, but only gave it a chance because the DVD cleverly twisted around the description. (Oh, I'm sure they meant well...)
The film itself tries very hard to appear unbiased and untethered to any political party. Even a couple of Democrat representatives are outed. And throughout, there are some intriguing discoveries and compelling stories that keep you interested. In the first half, I believed I was watching what I was promised. But somewhere near the middle, the topics become more focused on Republicans than closeted homosexuals and their perplexing bill sponsorships.
The last reel or so digs its heels in over the controversial Defense of Marriage Act, which defined marriage as a union between a man and a woman. This bill and its supporters are described by all interviewees as "anti-gay". Like everything else in the film, it's a one-sided issue and no defender of that bill is given the floor to explain their rationale -- which is what a serious documentary would do, expose both sides of the coin. Needless to say, every targeted politician shown are Republicans and are regularly defined here as "anti-gay" for their stance. And yet the film never makes note that the bill was signed into law in 1996 by Democratic president, Bill Clinton (who was also responsible for the "don't ask, don't tell" military policy.) No mention that Hillary Clinton also supported that bill, and during her 2000 Senate race said "...I think a marriage is as a marriage has always been, between a man and a woman." No mention that Barack Obama during his first presidential run also stated that he did not support same-sex marriage. Lastly, I have gay friends who did not support same-sex marriages, but rather civil unions which gave them the same federal rights and benefits as marriage. That stance is not "anti-gay", yet this dishonest film could not be bothered to address this because of its partisan agenda. (yawn)
My issue here is not with any of the stances of the above noted politicians, it's the fact that this pseudo documentary conveniently left these important notes out because it might, I don't know, cause damage to some of their heroes? And yet Reagan and particularly George W. Bush are called out boldly for the exact same views.
I didn't need to waste 89 minutes to find out that some filmmaker likes one party and dislikes the other, innovative and clever as that idea might be to him and other fans of discourse. And thus, I don't believe it's possible to find an unbiased American political documentary. Watching grass grow is more riveting (and more honest.)
Rated 6/10Entertaining, albeit absurd depiction of a newsroom. I've been around newspaper offices off and on most of my life from spelling bee tours as a youth (before achievement was considered politically incorrect), composing advertisements in my teens, and years of slogging through work in layout and camera rooms. Maybe things were different in the 50's, but I never saw a bunch of characters strutting around making endless speeches about the newspaper game with tongues-in-cheek so deep they must have pulled muscles. No, this is closer to the style of drama Jack Webb is best known for on his TV series, Dragnet. Corny but mildly entertaining.
There's a whole bunch of familiar faces in the cast, the lot of them chewing so much scenery that dentists would shudder. William Conrad, in particular, is so animated that his hard-boiled city desk editor is played for comedic relief. Fact is, only the subplot about the missing girl attempts any real drama, but ends up as melodrama. Add gobs of sentiment to the other subplot about Webb's character not wanting to adopt a child.
If nothing else, the production values are clean as a whistle and the polished black and white lens work is lean and efficient. So nuke up some popcorn and queue up the pseudo noir stylings Mark VII Ltd. was best known for.
Rated 8/10Just wow! A long-lost classic. This made-for-TV feature from the pairing of ABC-TV & Dick Clark Productions, was from a period when TV was attempting to capture that new 70s rock audience. The team had previous success with the late night Friday audience (no school on Saturday!) and the series, "In Concert" in 1972, the year NBC introduced "Saturday Night Live" to their late night weekend schedule. Both tried to nick viewers who were otherwise going to late screenings at theaters marketed to the rock & roll drug culture. After NBC grabbed late Saturday, they took over Fridays with "Midnight Special", and the syndicated "Don Kirshner's Rock Concert" also grabbed a chunk, leaving ABC out in the cold. Eventually, the network was left with nothing more than "Dick Clark's New Year's Rockin' Eve" every year, but a last ditch effort was made in 1975 under the name, Wide World Mystery. Using the 'Wide World' prefix from ABC's sports franchise, tacked onto their late night banner, the one and only entry into the series was The Werewolf of Woodstock, a thriller mysteriously shot on videotape rather than film, the second TV-movie shot to tape (the first being "Sandcastles" on CBS, fact fans.) The results in both cases were quite mixed, ultimately failing to achieve any emotional element sans celluloid.
All of that said, this is quite a miraculous anomaly, should you manage to get your hands on this rare feature. It's in light circulation in digital bootleg parlors. My guess is that it will be of little interest to the majority, the mainstream lot that they are, at least until an "official" fan movement for a film begins. So if one of those teenybopper magazines like Spin or Rolling Stone tells the kiddies to seek out this film, it could be the next The Room. And if there's any real punk misfits left, you need this flick in your weed-stenched home theater.
Rated 1/10A poor excuse for pornography that tries to elevate itself by being a regular movie with x-rated conventions. While it barely earns its x-rating, it fails across the board in every aspect of filmmaking. As a biker movie, it's slow and uninvolving, helped along by the grade Z acting and tepid excuse for a storyline (sheriff pulls over bikers, feels up the women, then leaves, bikers want revenge.) Then there's the "porn", staid nudity and poorly simulated sex scenes. I laughed out loud through most of the (thankfully short) hour duration. Even the casual drug use is limited to what looks like the Ozark Mountain Daredevils smoking grass. The ending is an unbelievably inept cop-out. And its nowhere near as sleazy as you might expect, other than the fact that there's nothing here even remotely sexy. Cheezy Rider might have been a more appropriate title.
Rated 4/10Jeez, where to begin! Made at the tail end of Al Adamson's freaky career, Carnival Magic was never released and was only discovered after his death when police searched his residence (another freaky situation on its own.) From the opening credits, you know you're in for sloppy incompetence. It's the only film I've seen where the final credit is not the director, but the producer, which may be a quibble, but it's just not done. After the end credits are superimposed over a local parade, the screen turns black and text appears announcing that next summer will be a sequel, More Carnival Magic (!) as a vocal music number begins, only to drop out and fade away a few seconds later. Huh?
Mind you, I'm not sharing any of the ineptitude from the actual movie itself, mainly because it's boring -- and sometimes wildly inappropriate, especially for what appears to have been aimed at an audience of tykes?!? As it all unfolded (slowly), I kept thinking how hokey it all was, like the many local films produced in the area where I live. Lo and behold, it actually was shot in my backyard, which explains plenty. Coupling that with the already questionable skills of Sir Adamson and the end result is one of Al's more bumbling efforts.
It's been several years since I watched this and my biggest memory is just hating the damn thing. How I awarded it a whopping 4 stars is as much a mystery as the film itself.
Rated 2/10What a completely STUPID movie. Way back when, I unsuccessfully tried to locate this film because I had a thing for Lori Singer (well, the 80s version of her, anyway...) Seeing the film now, she looks like a caricature of 80s MTV, pretty but soooo back then. But that has no bearing on the poorness of the film itself.
Dar & Tuck are two losers in a small town in Pennsylvania who decide to "drop out", and hit the road so Dar can find a pin-up girl from a surfer magazine, stealing cars and various petty crimes along the way for kicks. And thus, the setup for a road movie, which no doubt seemed like a great artsy, Cannes-y vehicle for our rebellious young director, Ken Friedman. In practice, it comes off like someone got stoned listening to a Timbuk 3 album and decided to make a movie based on the way the record made them feel. Sounds ridiculous, but that's the way it looks. There's not even a convincing existentialist undercurrent. In fact, within 15 minutes, I was ready (and hoping) for our heroes to crash into bulldozers or something.
The worst part is around the midway point where we're supposed to find sympathy for the characters, as the crazy Annie rebel chick is seen in tears hugging an Indian woman for no real reason in some greasy spoon restaurant. A link to Indians plopped down on top of the non-story (and it keeps aimlessly building on this subplot!) There's more useless diversions, like Dioxin poisoning, that hang on as long as possible before detouring. No issues addressed, just diluted references randomly fading in and out. How cutting edge. Or the result of the edited cut of the film, following some chaos after the Cannes screening. Apparently this was intended to be a poetic diatribe about ecological concerns, but what we get is a screed in wolf's clothing. (There is a wolf in the film, yet another foolish misstep.)
The only bright spot is the music, even if it's wasted on contrived visuals. A mixed bag of tunes from Sonic Youth, John Hiatt, Phil Ochs, The Rubinoos (!), Mojo Nixon / Skid Roper, Rick Cunha, and World Party, among others.
I suspect this virtually invisible film will one day develop a cult following, as soon as some hip director says he was influenced by it. There will be 10-star grades weighing heavy on the IMDb score, and will reside on lists with smart names like 1987, while reviews will drop such clever quotes as "Bad hair, dude." But today, I have peace knowing that sometimes a turd is just a turd, and few have heard of "Made in U.S.A." because it truly is wretched.
Rated 7/10Not as compelling (or entertaining) as the book, but a passable little thriller. The casting in particular makes this work, with strong performances from Foster, Sheen, and Jacoby, although this is not one of Jodie's favs, for good reasons. Not so much a keeper, but worth watching once.
Rated 5/10The hopeless romantic in me wanted to love this almost paint-by-numbers comedy-drama. I knew the critics were unimpressed, but I don't mind the monotony that the intelligentsia so loathe. I even looked forward to swimming upstream of their jaded dismissals of life, love and the human condition. I stayed true to this defiance for the majority of Elizabethtown, but as the final act wrapped up the loose ends, I found myself in that crucial aha! moment. Everything I loved about the film was tossed away into the miasmic stench of sentimental denouement. I felt as if I was in a relationship, each day filled with discovery and fulfillment until the facade revealed itself just when I'm ready to commit. Love gone spoiled sour.
I'll dispense with the storyline and characters since I don't want to give the impression of recommending this affair. Anyway, those details are easily attainable, so instead, a brief plus & minus bit:
Strengths:
· charming Southern quirks in small town USA
· humorous side characters that don't overplay their hand
Weaknesses:
· being pummeled with greeting card philosophies
· a soundtrack that feels like a playlist from a smug Rolling Stone magazine list-maker
The road trip home caused my grade to start its descent, ultimately flipping from 8 stars to 5 by the time Drew is baptized by the history of Memphis -- a sequence so hackneyed that I had to turn away from the sacrificial (and predictable) lessons.
Better stick with the Hallmark rom-coms, at least they have the courtesy to wallow in their banality instead of springing it on you like a jack-in-the-box.
Rated 10/10Ineffably sweet, but also incredibly sad. The anchor of the film is young Hodder's unyielding optimism even when faced with cruelty and melancholy. The main cast is perfect, and none of the characters are reduced to easy, one-dimensional caricatures. Finally, the music soundtrack cannot be ignored. For a family film, it's quite profound and moving.
Rated 8/10Most pornography doesn't really belong in a film database, since it's just a collection of sex acts on film, the idea being to stimulate, not entertain. At some point in the 60s, several hardcore films decided to experiment with actual plots and characters. Mixed reactions, depending on whether one wanted interferences with one's...erm, stimulation. Personally, non-stop sex + extreme close-ups are too much. In the 70s, filmmakers stepped it up with a variety of subjects, which continued through to the latter part of the 80s. Once the video medium became the standard delivery mechanism, the renaissance ended.
One of the beacons of the era was 1974's Flesh Gordon, an erotic send-up of the 1936 Buster Crabbe serial, Flash Gordon. Director Howard Ziehm already had a fistful of adult films under his belt using the pseudonym Harry Hopper, but Flesh Gordon put him on the map. He continued making adult films under various names, ending his career with his final film in 1990, Flesh Gordon Meets the Cosmic Cheerleaders. One of his fake names was Linus Gator, which he used for Naughty Network, a send up of television featuring segments such as "Genital Hospital" (General Hospital), "T*R*A*S*H" (M*A*S*H), and "The Young and the Horny" (The Young and the Restless). The TV station airing these shows is WHAC. Considering the genre, it's well shot, funny, and yes, erotic. Particularly the "Wild & Crazy Kingdom" segment.
Obviously if you don't like adult films, you'll want to steer clear. But if you like your blue movies with an ornamental edge, you could do a lot worse than Naughty Network.
Rated 1/10Rob Zombie is about as cutting edge as an episode of "Joanie Loves Chachi".
As usual, we get a "thriller" bereft of any original ideas and bankrupt of any vocabulary shy of the f-word. I keep hoping each of his films will be his last. I keep watching them in the futile hope that Zombie will come up with any idea of his own, which may release him from the obligation of reviving the careers of oldschool actors (hey - great idea, Rob! You should try to get a Sweathog in one of your films!...and be sure to populate it with a smart, edgy soundtrack replete with a mix of classic rock and obscure oldies...how about a disc jockey thrown in for no good reason.)
Ultimately, we are left with enough misdirection to completely distract from the emaciated excuse for a storyline and from there, a withered leaflet of brutal kills.
Rated 8/10Virtually unheard of, Welcome to Arrow Beach is an entertaining thriller, and the last film from Laurence Harvey, who also directs. It hardly compares to his previous masterpiece, The Manchurian Candidate, but never mind that.
The story begins with a very cute hitch-hiking hippy chick (Meg Foster) who ends up in the quiet title beach community. After a nude swim in the beach, she meets and becomes friends with Jason (Harvey), who happens to have been watching her through his scope. He has a dark past from his days in the Korean war which has managed to integrate into his world back home where he lives with his sister, who just happens to be his lover. Their beach-front home is a good location for spotting pretty young runaways or drifters, which is our setup.
Harvey helmed this thriller while deathly ill and some parts certainly suffer from whatever he was going through dealing with stomach cancer while directing and starring in a cannibal opera. Good supporting cast and an unusual title song by Lou Rawls that draws creepy parallels to the story, despite the initial impression of being awkward and unfitting.
In a perfect world, Warner Bros. would restore the full version of the film and release it on home video, but that's not likely to happen any time soon, if ever. Major studios had never dealt with an extreme topic like cannibalism in 1974, so this only played in a few test-market cities -- sometimes with alternate names -- ultimately getting shelved due to either drab boxoffice figures or embarrassment. I was lucky enough to see a brand new, uncut 35mm print (in a big, oldschool N.C. movie theater) and enjoyed it a lot. But that was based on the fact that I didn't measure the film by how gory it was or wasn't, so if that is your criteria, you may love or hate the film, depending on your disposition. Even with some plot holes and abandoned side stories, it worked for me. Meg Foster certainly played a part in the film's appeal with her haunting, innocent beauty.
It's rare enough to find any version of this film, but if you do, it will likely be an edited copy. Some prints have chopped out the cannibal element entirely, leaving behind a jumbled mess. I own two different versions and neither is technically complete. Maybe we'll get lucky and Criterion, or one of several Blu-ray labels who specialize in limited editions will take on this project.
For the time being, if you find the DVD from Luminous Video, that's the edited 85 minute version, despite its claim of being uncut. The (assumed) uncut version can only be had from an old VHS tape from Magnetic Video (who later became CBS/Fox), but even that version is full screen (1.33:1) and is fairly washed out, coming from the infancy of the home video market.
Rated 3/10Allegedly, this parody of classic horror films is supposed to have a greater appeal to horror fans than the general public. I am a horror fan and found it to be tasteless, un-funny, juvenile and overlong. The directors seem to have limited knowledge of horror film history (or even general knowledge of film.) Their worn film stock attempt, as was properly done in Grindhouse, is woefully illiterate -- in one example, a jerky splice is accompanied by the sound of a needle scratching across a record! Rather than aiming to please horror fans, the film is more obsessed with sex and toilet humor -- both topics from the purview of a teen metalhead. An entire segment is dedicated to feces and farting, while other segments zero in on themes like erections (at times shown in close up), sperm, homo-erotica, and politically correct Nazi satire. Raunchy sex and language far outweigh horror tropes, definitely for adults only. The CG is on par with the worst Asylum films and the screenplay is more inane than a Troma film festival.
These sub-films probably seemed like a good idea on paper when they were dreamed up, but fleshing them out into something effective as horror and satire is a delicate procedure best left to qualified people like Mel Brooks, Zucker-Abrahams-Zucker, (early) Tim Burton, etc. I didn't see affection for horror cinema in Chillerama, more a passion for explicit vulgarity that needed something to be attached to. Lamearama, more like.