Reviews

I don't understand why so many people seem to like this film. Like several others here, I could not even get through it all. Sophia Loren, who is not exactly a great actress anyhow, is wasted here. The costumers for the most part clad her in the most unrevealing clothing they could imagine, so we don't even get the pleasure of seeing her wonderful body -- which is what made her famous in the first place. Some of the sword fights are so clumsily staged, one wonders if Heston (or his co-stars) were drunk -- or truly that inept. The dialogue is unbelievable; the acting beyond wooden, it's petrified; and the lack of cohesion in the plot is unbelievable. But it is a typical Hollywood epic - all sizzle and no steak at all. This is so bad it makes "Ben Hur" almost watchable by comparison. And "Ben Hur" is truly bad.

To make it even more insulting, the quality of the print used for the DVD is poor. The colors are often flat and even shift within scenes. It is in widescreen, at least; but a little digital tuning could have made the print at least appear more grandiose. The quality reminds me of an old VHS tape except marginally sharper.

Points to ponder: why is Heston, an American, cast as a Spanish hero? Why do the Moors look like white people with heavy makeup (has everyone forgotten what the Moor looks like in "Othello")? Did they really have push-up bras in medieval Spain?

If the film were a little worse, you could watch it for laughs, but this is just plain god-awful.

I read all these comments about what a great thriller The Manchurian Candidate is, and I have to wonder what people think a thriller is -- or are they easily thrilled? The plot of the film is full of unbelievable contrivances, which stood out like sore thumbs even in 1962 when people were less savvy about everything. The film apparently disappeared for a number of years and legends grew about it, so that people remembered it as being better than it truly was. (I didn't remember it that way since I recalled leaving the theater in 1962 wondering what the fuss was about.) Okay, there are some good performances in the film -- Sinatra and Laurence Harvey are both especially good, despite Harvey's accent being totally inappropriate. Everyone raves about Angela Lansbury's performance but while she was good it was hard to be convinced by her so-called evil because it was based on the unlikely contrivance that this New England rich lady would be in league with the communists and also so powerful she could control them and special order an assassin, who just happens to be her son. (But, oh, she'll get revenge for that!) Janet Leigh is very beautiful but totally wasted; it's too bad she doesn't remove her blouse as Leslie Parrish did. Otherwise, her whole role could be removed and it would have no effect whatsoever on the movie. But back to contrivances -- it's hard enough to believe that the mere sighting of a card would send a man into a trance; we also have to believe that he doesn't even get suspicious when people keep suggesting "Hey, how about a little solitaire?" He always obliges! He never says, "I don't like solitaire." Or, "How about canasta or Go Fish?" Then his girlfriend, in another contrivance worthy of Hitchcock (the master contriver of absurd situations), shows up dressed as the Queen of Diamonds. No one ever explains exactly why she did this. It's too silly for words. Maybe some of the other commenters are right -- this is supposed to be a black comedy. We can pretend Sinantra is Mel Brooks and Laurence Harvey is Gene Wilder. Now all we need is someone to be Richard Pryor. But as for thrills, I sat on the edge of my seat all right -- so I could get up quickly as soon as this was over! One final comment -- the so-called martial arts fight between Sinatra and Henry Silva (what happened to his character anyhow?) was so embarrassing to both the men and their stunt doubles, I had to fast forward through it! I've seen better fighting on a Get Smart episode (more realistic too). Other than these few carping remarks, I have to agree -- what a classic!

This has the feel of a made-for-TV movie except it has enough profanity to give it an "R" rating. Kate Mulgrew has the acting skill of a wombat, to be kind. Rip Torn can act but he is saddled with a cliché-ridden script that is full of ridiculous turns and coincidences. This movie is totally predictable and tedious in the extreme. It's one yawn after another; the only reason to watch is in the hope that maybe something will actually happen that could be called suspense. But it never does. At least the little girl's cat is cute. I felt sorry for Rip Torn and the little girl, who probably thought she would have a career after this. Rip did, fortunately for him, as he was able to rise above being in this dreck. One final note -- the title is totally misleading. There is very little watching as the movie is about a kidnapping not stalking in the sense one normally thinks of it. Everyone says the book is better but if it is even half as contrived as this film, I have no desire to read it.

After a considerable hiatus, Columbo returned to TV in 1989, and all 5 episodes from that year are very uneven. It's mostly because of the writing, but it is also because of the casting. None of these episodes has any of the fun "big" names that the Columbo character was associated with before. No Shatner. No Mickey Spillane. No Ruth Gordon. This particular episode typifies that problem. Fisher Stevens, who is so obviously supposed to be Spielberg that it hurts to watch him, just is not in the league with the type of guests starts Columbo was known for previously. He seems like he's 12 years old and gives no depth to his character. He tries to be quirky but he just can't pull it off. Peter Falk attempts to save the episode but he is saddled with a script that puts him in embarrassing situations that are uncomfortable to watch. One example is when he tells Stevens his friend is dead then asks if he can make himself an ice cream soda. I know Columbo is supposed to be disingenuous but here he seems just rude and/or dumb. Falk does his best with the rest of the teleplay but Stevens is just not strong enough an actor to make the interplay between detective and murderer either intriguing or entertaining. After a while, it is all rather tiresome and fails to satisfy as the best of the old Columbo series did.

This film has its share of negative comments and I have to agree with those who consider it one of the worst movies ever made. True, most of the films based on the works of King are pretty bad, but this one goes beyond bad into the realm of horrible. There is not one scary moment in it unless you consider stupidity scary. It is typical King garbage -- myths twisted around that made no sense in the first place, mixed with obvious and belabored so-called "scares" that are about as shocking as PeeWee's Playhouse (which, at least, is entertaining). It is full of ridiculous moments, not the least of which is Alice Krige's character. When she goes on a rampage and starts quipping like the villain in an old Batman TV show, it is so absurd as to be sickening. All the people who had cameos in this (including John Landis)are lucky they still have careers. But the most absurd part has to be the cat costumes towards the end, which look like cheap rubber outfits someone bought at K-mart. The best part of the movie is the appearance of some real cats who actually out-act the people in the movie.

First of all, everyone who saw this movie in 1979 (as I did) knew it was supposed to be about Janis Joplin. There was otherwise no point to the movie. A lot of the details were different, but The Rose's life was the same kind of train wreck as Janis Joplin's life. The Rose is a character that is impossible to admire. She had it all and blew it. She was stupid. An idiot. She took her somewhat marginal talents -- used them and abused them -- made lots of money and instead of living the good life descended into a hell of personal despair. I don't feel sorry for people like that. As for the singing, one can take only so much of Miss Middler's caterwauling; enough is enough. Her occasional appearances on TV were more than enough. Over 2 hours of her pseudo-Ethel-Mermanesque screeching is more than any human should endure. Most of the other characters in this film are unlikeable and despicable as well. There are no positive role models. Nothing but tragedy, bad sex, bad drugs and alcohol. This isn't entertainment. It's overwrought theatrical angst!It's typical overindulgence on the part of Hollywood -- in which the lives of movie stars and rock stars are made to seem soooo tragic. I feel so sorry for these spoiled and over-rich babies. Not!

Hellzapoppin' is like one of the Road pictures with Hope and Crosby. You have to be a student of old movies to understand all the in-jokes and humor. If you don't know much about the 1940s or movies of that time, then this will be mystifying. Assuming you are so credentialed, then you can enjoy this wacky outing for what it is, just plain madness. Olsen and Johnson are almost completely forgotten nowadays, but they were big stars on Broadway where this originated (in some racier form). Bringing the vehicle to film required changing some of the gags but it all works quite well. It helps if you enjoy Martha Raye; some may find her performances over the top but that was her style and audiences of the time seemed to enjoy her. It's all a matter of taste, of course, but I find this O&J film less dated than much of the Marx Brothers' work. This used to be shown on TV but now it seems to be out of circulation. Let's hope the legal hassles will be resolved and this -- and a few other overlooked gems -- will be released to home video soon!

The problem with Laurel and Hardy is that most of their best work is hard to come by at present. Only a handful of their features and shorts have been released on DVD, so something like Babes In Toyland seems good. But that's only if you haven't seen their other work. Babes In Toyland was primitive even for 1934 and even as children's fare. The costumes (especially of the "Boogie Men")are tacky and would barely fool a 4-year old. Stan and Ollie have a few good moments but I would estimate they only add up to about 10 or 15 minutes of screen time. The rest of the movie seems to assume that children are just complete idiots. Again, any child over 4 would be bored out of his skull by this travesty. Even Hal Roach -- in later years and in an honest moment -- admitted this was far from the best work by the comedy team. As one person commented this is like they were trying to imitate a cartoon. That's especially valid when you consider most cartoons from this era also assumed children were idiots and were so cutesy-poo that nowadays they seem not only silly but sickening. This film is am embarrassment to Laurel and Hardy and the truly fine comedies they made both before and after this.

Linnea Quigley is cute. She is always cute in most of her movies. But she can't save this mess. Nor can Michele Bauer. The best thing about this movie is the title, and if you have the video box or the poster then you have the next best thing about it. The movie itself is far from funny -- not even in a B movie way. At 70 or so minutes, it's 69 minutes too long. There is no attempt at providing a script that is intelligent in any way. The gore effects are just plain bad, not humorous. Bad movies are not entertainment; they are an insult to audiences and especially an insult to people who are truly creative and can't get their scripts produced for one reason or another. If you're expecting to be entertained in any way, then you will be thoroughly disappointed. Fred Olen Ray is not Sam Raimi. He is not even George Romero. Even the nudity can't redeem this movie! Avoid!

It's a shame that the Cinemarama process was wasted on this dreary rehash of every B Western ever made. It's even worse when the DVD seems to have used the absolute worst print of this film I've ever seen. For some reason, the creators of this mess seemed to think we needed to see Debbie Reynolds ham it up every 5 minutes or so through a large section of the film; then she even manages to ruin the ending (not that it as that great)by yet again breaking into song. This is so typical of the MGM "epics" -- badly cast, badly written and overbearing. There are many scenes in the film that are just embarrassing to watch (most of them involving Debbie); and you can drive yourself nutty counting how many times characters say "reckon." The soundtrack is overwrought as well -- with fanfares and crescendos at the least little bit of action, punctuated by a chorus that seems to herald the Second Coming every time the setting changes. Finally, the narration by Spencer Tracy is so insulting to the intelligence of the audience, one has to assume poor Spencer needed work really bad to do it!

Other reviewers have noted it too -- this film is a major disappointment, especially if you are a Ginger Rogers fan. Which I am. But that's not to say I don't recognize that not every film she made was a gem. Indeed, she made her share of turkeys. This is not quite a turkey but it comes close. The problem is the studio. 20th Century Fox did not have the flair for comedy MGM, Columbia, or Ginger's old haunt RKO, where she made all her wonderful films with Astaire. First off, Ginger is a little too old for the part. She was 31 or 32, had gained some weight since the Astaire years, and was in her brunette/black hair period -- which was far from attractive. The use of gauze over the camera lens is evident in all her closeups, because she just was no longer the radiant young thing she was in her 1930s films. Ginger could do screwball comedy, and in The Major and the Minor, directed by Billy Wilder -- who knew how to do a comedy -- she shines. Here, she and all the comedic talents in the cast, are wasted by (1)a lackluster script and (2)heavy-handed direction by a man who did better with drama than comedy. One comes to Roxie Hart expecting a lot, but it just isn't there, and the whole show is dragged down by George Montgomery's non-acting. The character actors try to save the film -- William Frawley and Phil Silvers were outstanding in other films and on TV. But here their efforts fall flat. I have read that Barbara Stanwyck was the first choice for Roxie but I doubt if she could have saved it. And the constraints of 1942 censorship rendered the whole story of "Chicago" so antiseptic it is a wonder it has any following at all. Finally, it is rumored this version is not the original 1942 release -- which reportedly featured much saucier dancing. Having said all that, I would still prefer to watch this over the obnoxious and somewhat repugnant film "Chicago" recently released on an unsuspecting public.

The title is the most exciting part of this film, and it is a misnomer. It leads one to believe this may be a psychological mystery, but it is actually a pretty run-of-the-mill mystery with Betty Grable woefully miscast. She was good at dancing, not so good at acting. Victor Mature turns in a decent performance, and Laird Cregar chews the scenery as usual. The ending is supposed to be kind of a twist but it doesn't really work and seems rather contrived as most mysteries are. This may be classified as a noir film due to the camera work and obsessiveness of Cregar's character, but it is a very minor film and lacks any real substance. But in 1941, this kind of mindless fluff passed as entertainment and at least the actors were good-looking.

I don't know if this is Hitchcock's worst film but it comes close. Much of it is so terrible one actually feels embarrassed for the actors. It is as if Hitchcock deliberately wanted to make them look bad. One scene that stands out in particular is when James Stewart climbs out of the bell tower at the church. It is hard to imagine a clumsier sight than this; plus it makes his character seem particularly stupid. Another scene is when the little boy is told to whistle in order to attract his mother's attention. This is so contrived as to make one shudder in disbelief. Finally, there is the matter of Doris Day. She simply is not believable in a so-called serious role, and her constant whining of "Que Sera Sera" eventually makes one want to throw rocks at the TV. But Hitchcock was probably so bored by re-making one of his lesser British films he just didn't care how ridiculous all of this was. So he struck back at the audience, then took the money and ran!

Cecil B. DeMille once again commits an act of atrocity on history. The all white-bread cast of this absurd spectacle is just one of the many assaults and insults to one's intelligence that must be endured to suffer through this godawful mess. Colbert is sort of cute but any resemblance between her and Cleopatra could occur only in the warped imagination of DeMille. The love story, pulled more from Shakespeare than from history, is ridiculous and unbelievable. Maybe to matinée goers of 1934 this sort of romantic fluff was plausible but modern audiences must realize it is highly unlikely the fate of two major super powers hinged on the so-called love affair of Cleopatra and Marc Anthony. If that truly did happen in history, then folks of olden days were even more ignorant than we have ever believed. To make this mess even more intolerable, the dialogue is stilted and unnatural; the many costume changes are beyond belief; and, finally, Colbert's wigs are so obvious as to make one want to scream. The only thing worse than this is the Elizabeth Taylor version, which is completely unwatchable.

There are quite a few surprises in this film. First of all, it keeps you guessing especially as regards Randolph Scott's character, whose motivation is difficult to discern. It's hard to tell if he's a bad guy or a good guy sometimes, as he manipulates two different gangs of unsavory characters. This does not anticipate Yojimbo or A Fisftful of Dollars. Both of those films, plus this film, all derive somewhat from The Glass Key, which was filmed twice before The Stranger Wore A Gun was released in 1953. (In 1935 with George Raft and 1942 with Alan Ladd.)Those films were based on Dashiell Hammett's novel of 1931. In any case, this film has its own tale to tell, and the performances of Scott, Lee Marvin and Ernest Borgnine are solid. The film suffers somewhat from the 3-D effects which are kind of lame in the 2-D format we have to suffer on our TV sets. People who don't remember the 3-D craze will probably think the director was weird. All in all, the film's offbeat style and great ensemble cast make this well worth watching a time or two. It is by no means an ordinary run-of-the-mill Western.

I don't know why this is compared to the original. That film was no classic, and at least this one doesn't pull any punches. Indeed, the DVD version is R-rated and definitely not TV fare. Mila Kunis is so young in this that one wonders if it was made earlier than 1995. Anyhow, the story is ridiculous and pretty hackneyed, but William Katt and Monte Markham add credibility. It's always a pleasant surprise when James Karen shows up too. As a cheapie horror flick it delivers exactly what it promises and holds one's interest throughout. Making films like this made Roger Corman a legend, and his contribution to this particular film is probably what makes it work.

This is a dark comedy. It is outrageous in the manner of Frankenhooker, or UHF, Natural Born Killers, or other cult films. If you try to take it too seriously, you will not understand it at all. True, it is repugnant in many ways, but that is due to the subject matter. Killers are not pleasant people. I have also read enough true crime to realize that murderers often get away with their misdeeds for years before getting caught (if ever). Mila Kunis' performance is edgy and psychotic -- and just right for this type of character. William Shatner -- who plays a different kind of character and not just another reprise or parody of his Kirk personna -- adds a little madness himself. His performance here reminded me of his own early "psycho" type of role in The Intruder. While the film is not necessarily one you would watch over and over, it is definitely worth at least one viewing -- especially if you are in the mood for a kind of giddy lunacy that only cinema can construct.