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Reviews
American Anthem (1986)
okay, but ...
I remember that Mitch Gaylord and Janet Jones were two of the prettiest people in the whole bloody world when this flick came out. And their sex scene, while tame, was pretty darn hot just because they were in it.
Mitch did his best world-weary, troubled teen bit. Janet was dead-on as the one-dimensional beauty with the "I know you want me" grin plastered on her adorable mug.
More nudity, less gymnastics, and this film might have worked.
Playing for Keeps (1986)
Awful, but ...
... but you gotta love that great song by Sister Sledge, "Here To Stay" as the plucky teens fix up the house. I bought the soundtrack for that one song.
I remember all the MTV spotlights on this movie, all the cheesy videos put out in an effort to promote it, along with "Fire With Fire" and "American Anthem." Great nostalgia for an 80s fan, but man does it stink.
The Gypsy Moths (1969)
A film that is near to my heart for personal reasons
As a very young boy in El Dorado, Kansas, I marveled when the film crews came to town from Hollywood to shoot this film, what is considered John Frankenheimer's `lost classic.' The story is sub-par: three barnstormers stop at a small Kansas town to put on a show and get involved in a less-than-intriguing soap opera with the occupants of a house where they are staying. What makes the movie work for me is the reoccurrence of so many memorable images from the town where I grew up, but for outsiders, the essence of small-town Kansas life is captured so purely you'll be transported to the peacefulness of a world where the arrival of daredevil skydivers is a Big Event.
Most interesting to note in this film are the back-stories. Scott Wilson was called in to replace an injured John Philip Law, who was originally cast as the young daredevil. Gene Hackman was still a fledgling, relatively unknown, and yet he managed to steal most of the scenes from the established Burt Lancaster. For the locals, this film still lingers in the memory. The Victorian home where the barnstormers stay still stands, and the screened in porch on the house's north side--built exclusively for this film by the visiting film crew--is still referred to by locals as the `MGM porch.' The fight song that the marching band plays throughout this film is still the fight song of the Butler County Grizzlies, the athletic team of the local community college. And even today, old-timers wonder whether or not that was really Deborah Kerr in the buff
or if a body double was used. Either way, you'll get a real feel for this community, an interesting first look at up-and-comers Gene Hackman and Bonnie Bedalia, and a fascinating series of sky-diving sequences that set the tone for many such scenes to come.
The Blair Witch Project (1999)
Blair Witch ... bite me
I'm an LA guy. I drive the 405. Sometimes it's crazy. Sometimes it's scary. I could take a video camera along, and tape my day on the 405, and you would look at it and say, "Hmmm, that's some traffic."
Now, put a bad day on the 405 in a movie, like that chase scene in "To Live and Die in LA." THAT was scary. That was intense. Why? Because it was part of a story, told within a context, and it was directed with flair and style.
This is the problem with Blair Witch. No story. No context. No flair or style. Just a bunch of video footage of three people I would never invite to my house for beer and crumpets, screeching through the woods while allegedly frightening things are going on around them.
Just look at the horrors:
See ... a pile of rocks! See ... stick figures in trees! Hear ... children! Are you scared yet?
Nothing But Trouble (1991)
too awful for even MST3K!!!!
Let me summarize the awfulness this way:
My best friend and I like to rent really awful movies and do our own MST3K on them; that is, we dub copies of these awful movies but patch a secondary audio track so we can comment on the film as we dub it. It's all spontaneous, off the cuff, sort of a drunk dude's criterion DVD edition. We've trashed some real stinkers, including "Hong Kong Hitman," "Mitchell" (before the MST3K version, believe it or not), and most of the films of David Heavener.
When we tried to give this awful flick (about a lost shire in New Jersey where a decrepit old judge forces terrible things upon yuppies while globular fat creatures roam a surrounding junkyard) the MST3K treatment, something happened. We were speechless. This piece of raw sewage was so horribly written, ineptly executed, and terminally unfunny that we just sat stunned, searching for clever puns and quips yet finding none. Dan Ackroyd was the brains behind this? My man Dan? Say it ain't so, Joe!
I am a man who loves bad movies! This film goes beyond bad. It was used to torture the hapless youths in "Salo, Or The Last 120 Days of Sodom." It was distributed in Iraq in hopes it would demoralize Sadaam Hussein's Republican Guard (so that's why the war ended so quickly). Bullets can't stop it! It's awful! Oh my God, it's moving toward me! Make the bad movie go away!!!!!
The Hurricane (1999)
Whatever you do, go see this film!
I admit shying away from this film at first because the standard "wrongful imprisonment" motif can be depressing. But here is a film that tells an honest story without falling back on the usual cliches. No shower rape scenes, no racist beatings in the kitchen, none of that. Rather, we are treated to a non-linear narrative following both the life of Rubin "Hurricane" Carter and the life of Lezra, the African-American boy who persuaded his White Canadian tutors to take up the Hurricane's cause. At a time where silly filmgoers seem to hunger for stories told in a unique, non-linear fashion (witness the popularity of "Pulp Fiction" years ago), one should rush to "The Hurricane" and see the non-linear narrative structure put to good effect.
Perhaps the best reason to see this film is Denzel Washington. Here, Denzel puts in one of his most powerful performances in years, capturing the subtleties of change Rubin Carter undergoes in his quest for justice, then survival, and finally transcendence. As a writer, I found his speech on the power of written word to be the most moving film monologue I've heard in years.
White audiences, by the way, should not shy away from this film because of its Black protagonist and racial issues. This is an indictment of racism as a concept, and even the Hurricane finds his eyes opened a bit (for years, he holds a hatred of whites that he must eventually cast off to allow the love of his white friends).
I can think of no other way to say this. See the film. See it once and see it again. It's the best of 1999.
Aguirre, der Zorn Gottes (1972)
Spare me the madness!!!!!
As I write this, I am engaged in the `Aguirre, der Zorn Gottes' suicide watch--that is, I'm counting the minutes until this film ends in the hopes that I can finish it before I slash my wrists. At this moment, Klaus Kinski as the malevolent Aguirre is having his Al Pacino moment, that scene every great actor craves in which he gets to deliver an over-the-top monologue to the camera.
Watching this movie is like watching my retired father's home movies of his cruise through the Alaskan Inside Passage. Long lingering shots of water, jungle, water, rocks, water ... on and on and on these moments stretch, broken apart by smatterings of story. Kinski stumbles about through this film, sauntering and rocking on his back leg like an Aryan John Wayne who just received a cement steroid shot in his right shoulder. He cannot deliver a single line of dialogue with out scowling, scanning the horizon, and seemingly digging the words from the back of his throat as if they are balls of sand.
I groaned through Herzog's `Fitzcarraldo' in college, and I still have nightmares from that experience. But I read many great things about `Aguirre,' and as it is only 94 minutes in length, I assumed that Herzog could tell his story without all of his pretentious cinematic nuances. I was wrong. This film feels as long as `Fitzcarraldo' and `Burden of Dreams' together.
I want to think that maybe it's a German thing, that as an American weaned on Hollywood cinema I `just don't get' German cinema. But I know that if the diaries of Brother Gaspar de Carvajal had been given to an A-List writer in Hollywood, a riveting script would emerge. As for myself, I have enjoyed many German films dating back to early Expressionist cinema. Among German contemporaries, Volker Schlöndorff's `Die Blechtrommel' was an exceptional example of storytelling. So why is Herzog-- one of the most tiresome filmmakers I have ever witnessed--praised in so many circles as a genius?
If.... (1968)
Jolly jolly good
Eerily foreboding in light of Columbine et al, but when I saw this in college in the mid 80s, there was immediate audience identification. The film plays to the outcast loner in all of us, and I have met few people who have not enjoyed it. Nevertheless, the film deals (or it seems to me to deal) with the imagination reaching for expression in a stifling environment. Each of the three main characters participates in a fantasy, but director Lindsay Anderson never alerts his audience with the customary visual cues. Rather, we find fantasy and reality overlapping to the point of surrealism, and only through successive viewings does the film's near-perfect structure become apparent.
Joan of Arc (1999)
Powerful!!!!
I got a chance to see this film at a special advance screening in Los Angeles, and as a fan of Luc Besson and of history, I was properly blown away.
Luc Besson's affinity for color and motion-a penchant that elevates his `La Femme Nikita' and `The Professional' to among the best action films of all time-now focuses his lens on the passionate history of St. Joan of Arc. Besson thrills us with his visuals, plunging his audience right into the heart of the tale
from the tempest of Joan's horrifying visions, to the courts of Charles VII, to the filth and carnage of the horrifying Battle of Orléans.
Besson, always one to skirt controversy, takes an uncalculated risk by depicting Joan as the troubled teenager she is, subtly equating her disturbing visions with the trauma of post-pubescent change. Joan, played brilliantly by Milla Jovovich, roars through extreme emotional states ranging from breathless terror to barbarous passion. Such profound mood swings may ring with eerie familiarity to those audience members who've dealt with distressed teenagers.
Some critics have found fault with this interpretation of St. Joan, but I assert that such a depiction allows audiences to immediately empathize with the Maid's torment. Too easy would it be to paint a flat, two-dimensional warrior who comes by her skills naturally. How much more realistic is it to see her struggle with her Divine Calling, even come to hate the voices that compel her into battle. This embodies Joan with sympathetic traits, and teens especially will identify with her isolation and issues of abandonment.
Jovovich's standout performance is complimented by strong dramatic turns from many fine actors: John Malkovich as the foppish and self-important Charles VII; Faye Dunaway as Charle's treacherous stepmother, Yolanda D' Aragon, Tchéky Karyo (so brilliant as Bob in `La Femme Nikita') as Dunois, a mighty French soldier who comes to trust and rely upon Joan; and the outstanding Dustin Hoffman, in a tour-dé-force performance, as Joan's surreal Conscience, ominously forcing Joan's hand when she must confront the reality of her visions.
Among the great historical dramas of the 1990s, only a handful standout as masterpieces; `Braveheart,' `Schindler's List,' and `Saving Private Ryan' immediately come to mind. `The Messenger,' while not as powerful as these films, can easily take its place among their ranks, perhaps the most honest portrayal of St. Joan's life that we have seen.
Salò o le 120 giornate di Sodoma (1975)
You can beat Pier Paolo at his own game
Pier Paolo set out to do two things when he made this film. First, he wanted to shock his desensitized audience into feeling something once again. Second, he set out to make a commentary about our morbid voyeuristic impulses. If you are not shocked, you are as disturbed as the libertines who conduct the evil tortures in the film. And if you sit through the film to the end, you are as voyeuristic as these libertines, perhaps making you no better than they are.
In a day and age when we boost television ratings by watching endless media reports on the Columbine Incident, the crash of JFK Jr's plane, and the ethic cleansing in Cosovo, Pasolini's film is timely. We want to see death, to experience shock and horror, and to know the gory details. We are desensitized. "Salo" will shock some sense into you, as I say, and if you last for the duration, Pasolini has made his point about you. Do yourself a favor. Beat Pier Paolo by avoiding this film. Then you've won, and you can spend the two hours watching a sunset or listening to the ocean.