Join me as I attempt to watch 2,500 movies on DVD and Blu-Ray, including films from all around the world and spanning as many genres as I can muster. Check back often...new movies are posted daily!
Don’t Deliver Us From Evil doesn’t waste any time, introducing us to the twisted thinking of lead character Anne (Jeanne Goupil) immediately after the opening credits.
It’s nighttime at a Catholic boarding school. A nun makes her way past the sleeping girls. Anne, however, is not actually asleep.
The nun walks behind a drawn curtain and undresses as Anne, now turned onto her side, watches. The curious young girl then hides under her covers and grabs her journal, where she makes the following entry:
“Friday, 29th June… a good day. Celine Crespin got the blame for me fooling around in class. She’ll be kept in on Sunday. I confessed two sins of impurity that I hadn’t committed. That really gave me a thrill. Lore and me get such pleasure when we do something wrong. To sin has become our chief aim. Let the other idiots live their lives doing good. We shall dedicate our lives to Satan, our lord and master.”
And with that, this 1971 French film by first-time writer / director Joel Seria is off and running.
Anne and her best friend Lore (Catherine Wagener) get into all sorts of mischief, which they manage to hide from their teachers as well as their parents. Doing everything from collecting eucharist hosts and stealing a chalice from the sacristy (both of which they intend to use in an upcoming Satanic ritual) to antagonizing the farmer’s son Emile (Gerard Darrieu), the girls delight in the chaos they create.
It isn’t long, however, before their friendship leads them to bigger crimes, including arson and even torture.
For Anne and Lore, flirting with older men and spying on their teachers is nothing more than good fun. Until the night they take things a bit too far, an incident that could bring their entire world crashing down around them.
Based in part on the Parker – Hulme murder case in 1950’s New Zealand (the very same killing that inspired Peter Jackson’s excellent 1994 film Heavenly Creatures), Don’t Deliver Us From Evil is, at times, a shocking movie, both in the sexually explicit behavior of its two leads (though they portray teen girls, both actresses were nearly 20 when the movie was made) and the lengths (and depths) they go to in proving themselves worthy of a life dedicated to Satan. Perhaps the movie’s most chilling scene comes when Anne and Lore sneak into the room of Leon (Michel Robin), a caretaker at Anne’s estate, and poison his pet canary (the camera lingers on the poor creature as it convulses and then dies).
Not even the near-miss of Lore being raped by Emile (after playfully showing off her body to him) is enough to slow them down. To get back at Emile, they visit his family’s farm one night and set fire to the haystacks in the field as well as all the hay in the barn.
There are moments scattered throughout Don’t Deliver Us From Evil in which director Seria takes aim at what he sees as the rigid morality of the Catholic faith, and the effect it can have on stirring up rebellion; at one point Anne and Lore, who have snuck into the convent, hide from two nuns running down the hall, giggling. The two sisters eventually make their way to a secluded room, where Anne and Lore, peering through the keyhole, see them kissing one another. This comes just after a scene in which the priest, during mass, delivers a stern sermon on lust, and how it is the most deadly of the seven sins (in a humorous scene, Anne has a fantasy of the priest delivering his homily naked, and being laughed at by the parishioners).
Don’t Deliver Us From Evil is not an easy movie to sit through. It was banned in its native France and given an “X” rating in Britain (it also never played theatrically in the United States). But if you can look past some of its more troubling aspects (the on-screen death of an animal is never pleasant), it is a well-made, well-acted film, relating a story of friendship that crosses into obsession, and of two girls who have discovered a unique and horrific way to stave off the boredom of their restrictive lives. Rating: 9 out of 10
Prior to today, I had seen three of director Serguio Martino’s Giallos: The Strange Vice of Mrs. Wardh from 1971; Your Vice is a Locked Room and Only I Have the Key from 1972; and 1973’s Torso. All rank among my favorites of this particular subgenre, weaving intriguing storylines into a narrative style that is as sexy as it is visually engaging.
Now, I can add The Case of The Scorpion’s Tail, also released in 1971, to this amazing list of movies.
When her wealthy husband dies in a mysterious airline explosion, London resident Lisa Baumer (Ida Galli) learns she was the sole beneficiary of his life insurance policy, worth one million dollars.
Soon after flying to Athens to collect the money (which she took entirely in cash), Ms. Baumer is brutally murdered in her hotel room, and the chief suspect in her slaying is insurance investigator Peter Lynch (George Hilton), who was tasked with looking into possible irregularities in her case.
As more people associated with the Baumers turn up dead, both police inspector Stavros (Luigi Pistilli) and John Stanley of Interpol (Alberto De Mendoza) become convinced that Lynch is, indeed, behind this sudden rash of murders. To prove his innocence, Lynch teams up with (and romances) French reporter Clea Dupont (Anita Strindberg), in the hopes she’ll uncover a clue that will clear him once and for all.
One cannot discuss Sergio Martino’s output in the subgenre without also mentioning Ernesto Gastaldi, who wrote (or co-wrote) all of the director’s Giallos. The story of The Case of the Scorpion’s Tail, which twists and turns in a number of directions, throwing one potential suspect after another our way, is a definite strength, and keeps us guessing the whole way through.
That said, it’s the visual style Martino brings to the table that pushes it over the top.
In what is, for me, the strongest sequence in The Case of the Scorpion’s Tail, the killer stalks Lara (Janine Raynaud), a pretty redhead who, earlier in the movie, tried to blackmail Lisa Baumer for the insurance money. Lara, it seems, was the late Mr. Baumer’s mistress, and claims he intended to divorce Lisa and marry her. Lara said she was in possession of a letter that would prove Lisa Baumer wished her husband dead (Lisa herself had a lover, played by Tomas Pico). Naturally, when Lisa then turns up dead, Lara and her accomplice Sharif (Luis Barboo) are considered prime suspects.
That all ends when Lara herself becomes the killer’s next target, a scene that utilizes POV, a clever use of slow motion, and a fair amount of blood. When Sharif barges in before the killer can flee the scene, it leads to a tense rooftop chase that also ends in bloodshed.
Shot on-location in London and Greece, The Case of the Scorpion’s Tail is, along with its other attributes, a gorgeous motion picture, and proof positive that Martino is every bit the master of the Giallo as fellow countryman Dario Argento (Bird With the Crystal Plumage, Deep Red). I still have a few of Martino’s Giallos to check out, and now I chomping at the bit to dive into them! Rating: 9.5 out of 10
Times Square has an energy to it that is all-consuming.
A lot of said energy can be attributed to the music. This 1980 movie was produced by Robert Stigwood, the man behind Saturday Night Fever and Grease, two films with soundtrack LPs that sold millions. Featuring songs by The Ramones, Lou Reed, Patti Smith, Talking Heads, and a slew of others (including a couple of original tunes written for the movie and performed by its young stars), Times Square is packed with tons of great music.
But the music is far from the film’s only charm. The two leads, a pair of teenage girls played to perfection by literal newcomers, are the glue that holds the whole thing together. We like them the moment we meet them, and like them more and more with each passing scene.
Pamela (Trini Alvarado), a shy, awkward 13-year-old, is the daughter of New York commissioner David Pearl (Peter Coffield), who has made it his mission to clean up Times Square by driving away the smut peddlers and closing the XXX theaters. Clueless as to why Pamela is so troubled, her father sends her to a Neurological hospital, where they will run tests to determine whether or not there is something wrong with her mind.
Pamela’s roommate at the facility is Nicky Marotta (Robin Johnson), a punk-rock street urchin with a criminal record, who is set to undergo the very same tests. A free spirit, Nicky has no intention of sticking around, and talks Pamela into running away with her. Thus begins an amazing adventure, with Nicky and Pamela doing whatever it takes to survive on the streets and, along the way, becoming the best of friends.
When radio DJ Johnny LaGuardia (Tim Curry) catches wind of their story, he single-handedly transforms Nicky and Pamela into local celebrities by reporting on their exploits. But with Pamela’s dad and the cops searching frantically for them, it’s anyone’s guess how long this taste of freedom the two are enjoying will last.
Trini Alvarado is wonderful as the introverted Pamela, whose transformation from a lonely, troubled girl into an assertive, outgoing young woman is the heart of this movie. With Nicky’s help, Pamela even lands a job as a waitress at a seedy nightclub, somehow convincing the owner that she’s 18 years old.
Yet the true marvel that is Times Square is the performance of Robin Johnson as Nicky (unlike Alvarado, who had a handful of credits to her name prior to this film, Johnson was making her screen debut). The moment she struts on-screen during the opening credits, walking the streets of New York with her boombox, Johnson’s Nicky oozes confidence. She is angry, and often lashes out at authority. Naturally, this gets her into plenty of trouble, and what makes Times Square such an endearing movie is that, as much as Nicky helps Pamela come out of her shell, Pamela also has a positive effect on Nicky, convincing her to finally pursue her dream of becoming a punk rock star. Watching these two interact throughout the film was magic, and I did not want their story to end.
The relationship between Nicky and Pamela is front and center throughout Times Square, but the supporting characters aren’t left out to dry. Tim Curry is smooth and slightly enigmatic as the DJ who dedicates airtime to the exploits of Nicky and Pamela, going so far as to broadcast, on live radio, a song performed by the two (a hard-hitting number titled “Your Daughter is One”). As played by Curry, we’re never quite sure about Johnny. Is he a renegade inspired by the two girls, or an opportunist using them to make a name for himself? Even Pamela’s father isn’t a one-note character; though ignorant and career-oriented in the early scenes, he becomes truly concerned for his daughter’s safety, and goes so far as to promise to resign if she would just come home.
Times Square is not a perfect film. It’s occasionally choppy, and the flow is a little disjointed (Allan Moyle said that some key scenes, including hints of a lesbian relationship between the two leads, were cut by Stigwood, who, according to the director, seemed more interested in overloading the film’s music soundtrack than in making a cohesive movie). There are also twists and turns in the story that are unrealistic, from Pamela working at a topless night club (she herself refused to take her clothes off, winning the respect of the club’s manager) to the girls performing a song on live radio (“Your Daughter is One” is loaded with profanity as well as ethnic and homophobic slurs. Johnny would have been fired by his station manager on the spot for letting it go out).
To be honest, though, its lack of realism didn’t bother me at all. The story of Nicky and Pamela is the stuff of legend, the kind of tale told over and over, for generations, until the line between fact and fiction is blurred or even erased. DJ Johnny LaGuardia turned the girls into New York folk heroes. It’s no wonder the movie itself sought to do the same. Rating: 9 out of 10
Roger Corman directed a number of Edgar Allan Poe adaptations in the 1960s, bringing a gothic sensibility to such films as The House of Usher, The Pit and The Pendulum, and The Masque of the Red Death. For 1970’s The Dunwich Horror, which was adapted from a 1928 short story by H.P. Lovecraft, Corman served as Executive Producer, turning the directorial reins over to his longtime art director, Daniel Haller.
Miskatonic University in Arkham, Massachusetts is home to an incredibly rare book: the Necronomicon, also known as the Book of the Dead. Anxious to get a look at it, Wilbur Whateley (Dean Stockwell), a visitor from the town of Dunwich, convinces Nancy Wagner (Sandra Dee), a student at Miskatonic and a library volunteer, to let him read the Necronomicon for a few minutes. His time is cut short, however, by Dr. Henry Armitage (Ed Begley), who insists the book be returned to its display case.
Familiar with the history of the Whateley family, including the public execution of Wilbur’s great grandfather by the townsfolk of Dunwich, Dr. Armitage invites Wilbur to join him, Nancy, and Elizabeth Hamilton (Donna Baccala), also a student and Nancy’s best friend, for dinner.
Nancy quickly develops a crush on Wilbur, and agrees to drive him home when he misses the last bus to Dunwich. As thanks for her generosity, Wilbur invites Nancy into the house for some tea. But Wilbur has his reasons for wanting to keep Nancy around, and despite the protests of his grandfather (Sam Jaffe), Wilbur hopes to perform a ritual that no Whateley has successfully completed, a ceremony that will unleash an ancient evil capable of destroying not only Dunwich, but the entire world.
Stockwell delivers a mannered performance as the enigmatic Wilbur Whateley, a guy who, from the get-go, is clearly up to something. Early on, we have no idea what that “something” is, though it’s obvious Nancy is a key component of his plans (he sabotages her car to ensure it won’t start, and plies her time and again with tea that has been drugged). Sandra Dee is also quite good as the pretty student who falls under Wilbur’s spell, while Begley, Jaffe, Baccala, Lloyd Bochner (as Dr. Cory, Dunwich’s resident physician who teams up with Armitage to save Nancy), and a young Talia Shire (as Dr. Cory’s nurse) are solid in support.
Yet it’s the style that director Daniel Haller brings to the film that really blew me away, from the early close-ups of Wilbur (of his eyes, or of him twisting a ring on one of his fingers) to the strangely erotic imagery of Nancy’s dream sequences, which grow increasingly more bizarre as the film progresses. Haller, who handled the art direction for a handful of Corman’s Poe films (including The Pit and the Pendulum and The Raven), proves throughout The Dunwich Horror that he has a keen eye for visuals, bringing an impressive panache to Lovecraft’s tale of an ancient evil unleashed.
In unison with its strong cast and solid direction, The Dunwich Horror benefits from the “Corman Touch”. It is ever present and unmistakable, ensuring that this cinematic take on H.P. Lovecraft’s classic story would be just as much fun as his Poe films. Stylish and mysterious, The Dunwich Horror is a very entertaining motion picture. Rating: 9 out of 10
Born Rudolfo Guzman Huerto, the famous luchador known to his fans as El Santo (“The Saint”), was more than a superstar in the sport of wrestling. In his native Mexico, he was a cultural icon. Featured as the hero in a number of comic books, Santo’s fame spread far beyond the wrestling ring, and even today, almost 40 years after his death, he remains as well-known as ever.
Starting in 1952 and lasting all the way into the later ‘70s, Santo appeared in 54 films, always sporting the silver mask that was his trademark. Before today, I had never seen a single one of these movies. I was familiar with the Santo series, but never caught up with it, and was anxious to finally check it out. And the film I chose as my initiation into this most unusual of subgenres was 1970’s Santo vs. The Riders of Terror.
Set in the old west, Santo vs. The Riders of Terror opens with a group of lepers escaping from a remote hospital. Making their way to a small town, they take the locals by surprise, and send a few of them running and screaming from their homes.
The next morning, the angry townsfolk gather and demand that the Sheriff (Armando Silvestre) round up the lepers and drag them back to the hospital. Things go from bad to worse when, later that night, the Sheriff’s fiancé, Carmen (Mary Montiel), is surprised in her house by a supposed leper, who then proceeds to shoot Carmen’s dad in the back!
What nobody knows is that this murder was carried out not by the lepers, but by the thief Camerino (Julio Almada), who wants to scare the townsfolk while, at the same time, striking a deal with the lepers, promising them food and a cut of the profits if they help he and his men rob a few unsuspecting businesses.
Not to worry, though, because the sheriff has convinced the famous luchador Santo (playing himself) to ride into town and save the day. Can Santo and the sheriff track down the lepers and return them safely to the hospital, or will the enraged locals end up taking matters into their own hands?
Though more a western than a horror film, Santo vs. The Riders of Terror does have a few tense moments, and the make-up for the lepers is appropriately gross (in one scene, a leper puts a stolen ring on his finger, and watching him try to get it over his decaying skin had me cringing). It didn’t matter, though, because it is a good western! I was into the story and anxious to see how it played out, even before Santo shows up (surprisingly, he isn’t even mentioned until the 20-minute mark in what is a 77-minute film).
In Santo’s first appearance in the film, he’s climbing into an outdoor wrestling ring to fight a local champ for money (all to raise cash for a trio of nuns, who devote their life to helping the poor). It seemed a little kooky to me to have a wrestling match in the middle of a western film, but then this is no ordinary western, and for fans of the legendary luchador, not having one probably would have been unthinkable!
From there out, Santo is front and center, devising plans to catch both the lepers and the criminals. At one point he even gets into a fight with Camerino, and as it is with most wrestling matches, the bad guy gets the upper hand once or twice before Santo rises to the occasion and flattens him.
I loved the style of this film, from the obviously-fake-yet-still-effective set pieces to the quick, brightly-colored swipes that the filmmakers used to transition from one scene to the next. I even had a blast with the often-terrible dialogue. Early on, when the townsfolk are clamoring that something needs to be done, one of them suggests they apprehend the lepers themselves, and asks a guy next to him if he’s ready to join the fight. “Sure”, the man replies, “I was born in a minute. I’ll die in less” (umm… I think I know what he’s trying to say, but… huh?!?). Now, to be fair, I couldn’t tell if this and other laughable lines were the fault of the writers (the script was co-written by Jesus Mercielago Velazquez and the movie’s director, Rene Cardona) or those who dubbed the movie into English, but if I’m guessing, I’d say it’s a little of both.
Never mind, though, because it didn’t detract from the fun I had watching Santo vs. The Riders of Terror. I feel as if a whole new world has opened up for me, and I can’t wait to explore it further! Discoveries like Santo vs. The Riders of Terror are what make being a cinephile so rewarding. Rating: 8.5 out of 10
As with Vincent Price’s character in The Witchfinder General, Christopher Lee portrays an historical figure in Jess Franco’s 1970 film The Bloody Judge. Judge George Jeffreys, who was fiercely loyal to James II, was named Lord Chancellor of England in 1685, and used his power against the king’s enemies. He became known as “The Hanging Judge”, and his punishments were harsh.
During the Monmouth Rebellion, when William of Orange attempted to seize control of the English throne, it is rumored that Jeffreys put several hundred men on trial, all of whom were eventually executed. When James II fled the country in 1688, paving the way for the reign of William III, Jeffreys remained behind and was captured. He died of kidney failure while a prisoner in the Tower of London.
Though not quite the movie that The Witchfinder General is, The Bloody Judge nonetheless does a good job bringing this story to the screen, with Christopher Lee delivering a deliciously sinister performance as the judge whose loyalties often interfere with his dispensing of justice.
As the movie opens, troops loyal to Judge Jeffries (not sure why the filmmakers changed the spelling of his name) have arrested Alicia Gray (Margaret Lee) and charged her with witchcraft. Her sister Mary (Maria Rohm), who caught the eye of Judge Jeffries during the trial, pleads for Alicia’s life. When she refuses to sleep with Jeffries in return for Alicia’s freedom, Alicia is executed.
With William of Orange threatening to invade England, Judge Jeffries steps up his efforts to root out the rebels. He meets with Lord Wessex (Leo Genn), who he suspects of conspiring with the rebels, and warns Wessex to keep an eye on his son Henry (Hans Haas Jr.), who has taken Mary Gray, the sister of a convicted witch, as his lover.
Henry is, indeed, sympathetic to the rebel cause, and intends to make Mary his wife then flee England that very night.
To keep young Henry in line, Judge Jeffries, with the help of Wessex’s traitorous servant Satchel (Milo Quesada), takes Mary into custody, all as news arrives that William of Orange’s troops are about to land on English soil.
With the tide of public opinion turning against King James, Jeffries knows he has to step up his efforts, and begins arresting everyone even remotely connected to the rebellion. But how long can the man known as the Bloody Judge hold back an uprising that is growing stronger with each passing day?
Aside from the opening scene with Alicia Gray, The Bloody Judge deals more with history than it does witchcraft. Lee bellows and huffs his way through the courtroom scenes, his anger and insults showing, quite clearly, he is anything but an impartial judge. During Alicia’s trial, Jeffries chastises the prosecutor for not “properly examining” the body of the accused. He calls a recess, at which point Alicia is tied to a rack and tortured.
Jess Franco, whose gargantuan body of work contains more misfires than it does triumphs, does a fine job recreating the time period throughout The Bloody Judge. As with most of the director’s output in the ‘70s and ‘80s, the film has its share of exploitative moments; in the uncut version, there’s lots of nudity, and a bizarre scene in which Mary Gray “cleans” the naked body of a fellow prisoner by licking the blood off of her. But along with the sleaze, we’re also treated to some well-staged battle scenes between the rebels and the King’s troops, and the story of Henry’s and Mary’s attempts to avoid capture has its moments as well.
Franco, who this same year released Count Dracula, which he claimed was the most accurate version of Bram Stoker’s novel ever committed to film (it was for a while, then drifted off the rails towards the end), continued his push for authenticity with The Bloody Judge, which is as much a history of a moment in time as it is a horror movie. And it works on both counts. Franco himself remembered The Bloody Judge fondly, saying in a 2003 interview that it is a movie he “still enjoys”. It’s easy to see why. Rating: 8 out of 10
The debate rages on as to whether or not Die Hard is a Christmas movie. The detractors contend it is an action film that just happened to be set during the holiday. I can see that argument (and to be fair, Die Hardwas released to theaters in the summer of 1988), but I watch it every December all the same.
That said, I don’t think there’s much doubt about 1997’s Turbulence being a Christmas movie. Featuring a wild cross-country flight and the chaos that arises due to some very extreme circumstances, the “Christmas Stamp” is all over this film. From the opening scene (set in a small, snowy town that could have been lifted from a Hallmark movie) to the plane itself, which has Christmas lights draped throughout the cabin, the holiday remains prevalent throughout. Hell, the in-flight movie is It’s a Wonderful Life!
But like Die Hard, it isn’t tidings of comfort and joy that you’ll remember when Turbulence is over. For better or for worse (and there are aspects of both), it’s the insanity of it all that you won’t soon forget.
Convicted serial killer Ryan Weaver (Ray Liotta), who escaped from San Quentin two years earlier, is recaptured in New York by L.A. detective Aldo Hines (Hector Elizondo). It was Hines who initially arrested Weaver, and has made it his life’s mission to ensure the fugitive is transported back to California and returned to death row.
Weaver, who insists that Hines planted evidence to frame him, is placed in the custody of U.S. Marshals, and, along with fellow prisoner, bank robber Stubbs (Brendan Gleeson), boards a 747 on Christmas eve for the long flight west.
Once on-board, Weaver takes a special interest in flight attendant Teri Halloran (Lauren Holly), who is still reeling from a failed romance. With a handful of other passengers along for the ride, the plane takes off, just after both the pilot (J. Kenneth Campbell) and his co-pilot (James MacDonald) are informed they may have to alter their course mid-flight, to avoid a heavy storm that is ravaging the Midwest.
During a trip to the restroom, Stubbs gets the upper hand on one of the Marshals. A gunfight ensues, and when the smoke clears, all of the Marshals are dead.
They won’t be the last to die on this Christmas Eve, and the odds of the plane making it safely to California grow longer by the second.
Ray Liotta was always a good villain, and his Ryan Weaver is no exception. Likable at first (we even wonder if his accusations against Hines are valid), he begins to show his character’s creepier side the moment he sets eyes on Teri Halloran. Once the story gets rolling, Liotta is off the chain, going over-the-top more than once, but always in an entertaining way.
For her turn as the plucky flight attendant Teri, Lauren Holly was nominated for both a Golden Raspberry Award and a Stinkers Bad Movie Award for Worst Actress. And I call bullshit! Sure, Holly is no Pam Grier (Coffy, Jackie Brown), Sigourney Weaver (Alien, Aliens), or Linda Hamilton (The Terminator, Terminator 2: Judgment Day), but she’s far from terrible as the flight attendant dealing with a potential killer and a plane that could break apart once it enters the eye of a storm. Leave Ms. Holly alone, she did a fine job!
Like many action films (especially in the ‘90s), Turbulence gets more outlandish with each passing scene. There are moments that may even have you laughing out loud (one involving a truck on the roof of a parking garage made me chuckle, yet not as much as how the filmmakers “fixed” that particular… situation). But the term “stupid fun” seems to have been coined for movies like Turbulence, and aiming at that admittedly very low target, it comes damn close to the bullseye. Rating: 7 out of 10
On her way to New York to visit relatives for Christmas, San Francisco socialite Nicki Collins (Deanna Durbin) peers out the window of her train car and witnesses a murder.
Sounds like the perfect set-up for a film noir, doesn’t it? Only 1945’s Lady on a Train, directed by Charles David, is, first and foremost, a comedy.
And it’s a damn good one!
As soon as Nicki arrives at Grand Central Station, she dodges Mr. Haskell (Edward Everett Horton), the courier sent by her father to meet her, and rushes to the nearest police station to report the murder. But the police don’t believe her story, so she turns to her favorite mystery writer, Wayne Morgan (David Bruce), in the hopes he will be willing to help solve this case.
Morgan, unfortunately, is even less interested that the police, but when Nicki follows Morgan and his fiancé to the movie theater, she catches a newsreel announcing the “accidental death” of wealthy shipping magnate Josiah Waring (Thurston Hall).
Recognizing him as the man she saw killed, Nicki sets off to look for clues at Waring’s vast estate. Only she arrives just as his will is being read, and is mistaken for Margo Martin, a night club dancer and the deceased Mr. Waring’s young fiancé!
Thus begins a series of misadventures that will see Nicki being romanced by both Jonathan (Ralph Bellamy) and Arnold (Dan Duryea), two of the late Waring’s disinherited nephews; and on the run from Mr. Saunders (George Coulouris), the night club manager who is desperate to retrieve a pair of bloody slippers that Nicki uncovered at the estate.
With a story that would be right at home in a crime / thriller, Lady on a Train, with its sharp dialogue and funny situations, is instead a comedy with a decidedly screwball flare. The opening scene on the train, where Nicki is talking in circles, trying to find out from the conductor the name of the town that the train just passed, is hilarious, as are Nicki’s first interaction with Horton’s Mr. Haskell and her attempt to report the murder to a cop manning the front desk (played by I Love Lucy’s William Frawley). These scenes get Lady on a Train off to a very strong start, and the movie loses very little of its steam from there on out (it’s only during a trio of musical numbers that things slow down a little).
Though not as well-known today, there was a time in the late 1930s and early ‘40s when Deanna Durbin was box-office gold. Signed as a teenager by Universal, Durbin headlined a number of musicals, all of which turned a profit. She has even been credited her with saving the studio from bankruptcy!
But Durbin was anxious to explore more challenging parts, and, after a brief suspension by Universal for refusing a role, she was permitted her choice of director and project. Lady on a Train was one of the first two she selected, and though it was not a success financially, the movie proved, without a doubt, that Deanna Durbin was more than a pretty face with a golden voice.
Durbin has moments in this film where her comedic timing matches that of Katherine Hepburn in Bringing Up Baby (especially in her scenes with Edward Everett Horton and David Bruce), and it’s a shame she didn’t make more movies like Lady on a Train.
With the studio and her fan base demanding she return to her musical roots, a frustrated Durbin appeared in only a handful of films between 1946 and 1948 before announcing her retirement in 1949. And to see her in Lady on a Train is to realize what might have been were she allowed a bit more freedom.
Rating: 9 out of 10
“The improbability of events depicted in this film is the surest indication that they actually did occur”.
In January of 1914, Mexican revolutionary Pancho Villa, who was battling the forces of President Victoriano Huerta, announced that he was willing to work with any American film company that would produce a movie about his cause.
Needing money to fund his revolution, and hoping to negate the bad press he had been receiving from the news outlets run by William Randolph Hearst, Villa met with Frank N. Thayer of the Mutual Film Studio, which was run by Harry E. Aitkin and legendary director D.W. Griffith.
From the partnership between Villa and Mutual, the full-length movie The Life of General Villa was born. Combining staged scenes (directed by Christy Cabanne and starring Raoul Walsh as a young Villa) and footage of actual battles between Villa’s forces and those of the Government, The Life of General Villa premiered in New York City in May of 1914, and turned the tide of public opinion in Villa’s favor.
Directed by Bruce Beresford and written by Larry Gelbart (who also executive produced), the 2003 HBO film And Starring Pancho Villa as Himself is a spirited telling of this very unusual story, and is one of the best films about the silent movie industry that I’ve ever seen.
As And Starring Pancho Villa as Himself kicks off, Aitkin (played by Jim Broadbent) and Griffith (Colm Feore) have decided to send Aitkin’s assistant (and nephew) Frank Thayer (Eion Bailey) to Mexico to meet with the legendary Pancho Villa (Antonio Banderas). After paying Villa $25,000 in gold and promising him 20% of the profits, Thayer and his crew set to work filming a battle the very next day.
Unfortunately, this initial footage, which is turned into a short film, is murky and fails to make an impact. When Villa also runs into some trouble for executing a British landowner (who accused Villa of stealing his cattle), another film project is put into motion, a full-length drama / documentary titled The Life of General Villa.
It’s everyone’s hope that this new film will be a success, but will Villa and Thayer survive long enough to finish both the movie and the revolution?
The cast is impressive. Joining those mentioned above, Michael McKean plays director Christy Cabanne and Kyle Chandler is Raoul Walsh, both of whom traveled to Mexico with actress Teddy Sampson (Alexa Davalos) to shoot the dramatized moments of Villa’s early life. Also strong (and at times damn funny) in support is Alan Arkin as Sam Dreben, a Jewish American mercenary hired by Villa to help his cause; and Matt Day appears in a few scenes as John Reed, the journalist whose socialist leanings formed the basis of Warren Beatty’s award-winning movie Reds. As the Mutual executives, Broadbent and Feore are memorable, as is Bailey, whose Thayer develops a genuine friendship with Villa.
That said, And Starring Pancho Villa as Himself is, without a doubt, the Antonio Banderas show! Delivering what might be his greatest performance, Banderas is boisterous, amusing, and sometimes frightening as Villa, who, despite his out-of-control ego, truly wants to free his people from government tyranny, a government supported, in large part, by wealthy Americans (Villa reveals at one point that the real source of William Randolph Hearst’s animosity towards him is that the millionaire publisher owns some eight million acres of Mexico, a country rich in oil).
Under director Beresford’s keen eye, And Starring Pancho Villa as Himself moves at a brisk pace, with battle sequences that are exciting and bloody (the sight of Thayer and his team capturing footage of the action while simultaneously putting themselves in harm’s way is nerve-racking and funny at the same time). Yet the film’s most appealing aspect is not only that it’s cast of characters is based on real people (even Alan Arkin’s Dreben), but also real events. According to writer Larry Gelbart, a good deal of the film’s scenes actually happened; an early moment, where Villa confronts a Catholic priest who impregnated a teenage girl, is something, per Gelbart in his DVD commentary, Villa did.
Along with being a smooth, entertaining western / war film, And Starring Pancho Villa as Himself also functions as an informative biopic of a famous military leader, and an expose of the earliest days of the motion picture industry. The fact that it approaches greatness on all counts is a true marvel. Rating: 9.5 out of 10
Based on a real serial killer who terrorized the U.S.S.R. throughout the 1980s, murdering some 50 young women and children, Citizen X is a gripping, well-acted movie that, along with exploring some of the usual tropes you’d expect to find in politically-themed thrillers, still has enough that is fresh to make it worthwhile.
Forensic specialist Viktor Burakov (Stephen Rea), recently assigned to the post by his superior, Col. Fetisov (Donald Sutherland), finds himself dealing with an obvious serial killer when the decomposed bodies of seven children are found in a forest near Rostov. Promoted by Fetisov to be lead detective on the case, Burakov spends the better part of the next decade trying to track down a killer who refuses to stop, stabbing and mutilating child after child before (in some instances) sexually assaulting their remains.
Frustrated at every turn, both by the lack of evidence and the increasing pressure put on him by Bondarchuk (Joss Ackland), the head of the local Soviet crime committee and a staunch Communist, Burakov’s mental state slowly disintegrates. Yet he continues searching for a monster who, until he is behind bars, will never stop his reign of terror.
Like a good many movies in which a determined investigator faces off against bureaucrats, Citizen X features obligatory scenes where Bondarchuk, well-played by Ackland, continually criticizes Burakov’s methods, including his desire to speak with the American F.B.I. and compare notes, a request that Bondarchuk and the rest of the committee immediately deny. More than this, Bondarchuk often interferes in a way that is far from helpful, at one point insisting that Burakov release a potential suspect because he is a “Communist in good standing”.
As I said, these showdowns are nothing new for this sort of movie, but it is only a small fraction of Citizen X, and, though well-handled, pale in comparison to what makes it a truly unique motion picture.
First off is the relationship that develops between Rea’s Burakov and Sutherland’s Fetisov. During their first encounter, when Bukarov announces to the committee he believes there is a serial killer on the loose, Fetisov is dismissive and even insulting towards his newest subordinate. In their initial exchanges, we are firmly on Burakov’s side, and like him, believe Fetisov is covering his own ass, a high-ranking official who wants to keep his nose clean, rarely going to bat for Burakov. But then, like Burakov, we realize over time that we may be wrong about Fetisov. Watching their relationship move from one of animosity to something more substantial was a twist I wasn’t expecting, and both Rea (who won Best Actor at the Stiges Film Festival for his performance here) and Sutherland (who took home both a Primetime Emmy and a Golden Globe for his turn as Fetisov), are outstanding throughout.
But where Citizen Xreally impressed me were the scenes in which we watch the killer at work. Unlike the film’s central characters, we know in the first 10 minutes who it is that’s committing these horrible crimes: Andrei Chikatilo, played brilliantly by Jeffrey DeMunn. A husband and father of two, we spend a little time with Chikatilo outside of the murders, witnessing moments between him and his abusive wife (including one very uncomfortable sexual encounter shared by the two) and his run-ins with his superior at work, who also goes out of his way to embarrass Chikatilo. Yet even in these scenes, writer / director Chris Gerolmo is careful not to develop too much sympathy for his killer, and these moments are balanced with us tagging along with Chikatilo as he stalks his prey, lures them into the woods, and brutally stabs them numerous times (often, his victims are well under 12 years old). The killings seem more violent than they truly are (save one or two, which get pretty graphic), yet every single one is upsetting to watch. We understand Chikatilo, but we do not like him, and never once do we root for him to elude the justice that is closing in.
Released in 1996, Citizen X marks yet another venture into Communist Russia produced by HBO, after 1985’s Gulag and the magnificent 1990 biopic Stalin. With Citizen X, they round out what I’d recommend as a damn fine afternoon triple feature. Rating: 9 out of 10
Originally broadcast on American network CBS in March of 1982, Desperate Lives is the kind of “morality movie” that could easily take things a bit too far. It could over-dramatize, deliver its message with a heavy hand, and feature scenes so exaggerated that it’s good intentions would be lost in the process.
I’m not gonna lie… there are moments in this film that do just that. But there’s also enough here to ensure its anti-drug agenda doesn’t get completely lost in the histrionics.
It’s the first day of school, and Eileen Phillips (Diana Scarwid), the new counselor, meets Freshman Scott Cameron (Doug McKean) in the parking lot. Just by looking at him, Eileen can tell Scott is high, and brings him into her office for a chat, hoping to steer him away from drugs.
Scott’s older sister, Sandy (Helen Hunt), who has experimented with drugs herself , also tries to help Scott. But peer pressure as well as his turbulent relationship with his parents (Diane Ladd and Tom Atkins) send Scott deeper into his downward spiral.
He befriends the local dealer, Ken (Sam Bottoms), and even starts selling drugs for him, all the while using harder and harder stuff himself. Try as she might, Eileen can’t convince her fellow teachers or the administrator, Dr. Jarvis (William Windom), to get involved. Nor can she reach Scott, who may already be a lost cause.
First and foremost, Desperate lives is a very “80s” movie, from The opening theme, written and performed by Rock Springfield, to the obligatory montages scattered throughout (in one, Eileen and her boyfriend Stab, played by Art Hindle, take Scott on an afternoon biking trip, hoping to show him there’s more to life than getting high). As for its anti-drug message, the movie is rarely subtle. The students proclaim that “everyone is doing it” while the teachers and faculty turn a blind eye for the same reason, feeling overwhelmed by it all. And, in what is undoubtedly the film’s most over-the-top moment, Helen Hunt’s Sandy is convinced by her boyfriend Steve (Grant Cramer) to try some homemade PCP he just cooked up in the school lab, and has such a “bad trip” that she leaps out of a second-story window!
There are plenty of cliches throughout, from the parents saying “Not my kid” to the character of Julie (Michele Greene), a friend of Sandy’s who trades sex for drugs with Ken and almost drowns during swim practice because she is so high.
Desperate Lives, however, proves to be a bit more than the Reefer Madness of the ‘80s (as it’s been called). For one, unlike a few reviewers, I thought Doug McKean gives a solid performance as Scott. The first exchange between him and Scarwid’s Eileen is handled well by both. In addition, Sam Bottoms plays the drug dealer Ken as just smooth enough to lure kids in (the scene where he convinces Scott to deal drugs for him features some of the movie’s most impressive dialogue), and just sleazy enough that we want to see him taken down. Helen Hunt, despite her “stunt work”, is also likable as the sister trying to help, and her scenes with McKean’s Scott resonate.
As for the ending, well… it’s even more over-the-top than anything that came before it, and seen through modern eyes, it may have viewers laughing out loud. But hey, I got a little choked up as well. Rating: 5.5 out of 10
This made-for-TV movie hits pretty hard, shining a light on an issue most weren’t aware of in 1975: teenage alcoholism. Even director Richard Donner initially turned the project down because he didn’t believe it was a real problem (producer David Levinson took him to a local Alcoholics Anonymous meeting, and, after hearing the testimony of a pre-teen alcoholic, Donner immediately signed on).
In the opening moments of Sarah T. - Portrait of a Teenage Alcoholic, voice-over narration provided by Michael Lerner (who also has a key role in the movie) plays over black and white photos of high school kids. Lerner informs us that, by 1975, America had approximately half a million preteen and teenage alcoholics.
But that’s just a number. What Sarah T. Portrait of a Teenage Alcoholic does - and does very well - is bring the issue to the forefront, and in a manner that’s positively grueling.
Sarah Travis (Linda Blair) is not a happy kid. Her dad (Larry Hagman) is out of the picture, and Sarah’s mother (Verna Bloom) is remarried to a successful executive (William Daniels). What’s more, Sarah now lives with her mom and stepdad, which means she’s starting over in a new school.
One night, at a party thrown by her parents, Sarah steals a guest’s drink and quickly downs it in the kitchen. This kicks off what would prove to be a long and perilous addiction for Sarah, who even uses booze to help her fit in at school.
Her new boyfriend, Ken (Mark Hamill, two years before Star Wars made him a household name), is concerned about Sarah’s drinking, and worries she is taking it too far. But Sarah can’t stop. She sneaks liquor from her parents whenever she can, and, on occasion, steals it right off the shelves of liquor stores.
Concerned for her daughter but a little more worried about her social standing in their new neighborhood, Sarah’s mom reluctantly agrees to take Sarah to psychologist Dr. Marvin Kittredge (Michael Lerner). At that first session, Dr. Kittredge tells mother and daughter that the only way he can help Sarah is if she admits, then and there, that she is an alcoholic. But Sarah doesn’t believe she is, insisting she can stop drinking anytime she wants.
Sarah still has a little more to learn - and a lot further to fall - before she will realize just how serious her problem has become.
Always a strong director of children (The Omen, The Goonies), Richard Donner coaxes a brilliant performance from Linda Blair, who is just as good playing Sarah the insecure teen as she is portraying Sarah the teenage alcoholic. Her scenes with Mark Hamill have a sweetness to them, and watching their relationship grow brings something special to an otherwise hard-hitting story.
On the flipside are the scenes in which Sarah is drinking. And she drinks a lot! At parties… in her room… even standing in front of her locker at school.
We know what it is that drives Sarah to drink. Her mother is all about not embarrassing the family in their neighbor’s eyes, and dotes more on her older married daughter (Laurette Spang) than she does Sarah. As for Sarah’s dad, in the one scene in which they are together, we notice right away he is also addicted to alcohol (he downs several beers while the two are walking down the street).
But over the course of the movie, Sarah will make dear old dad look like a teetotaller.
Sarah hits lows that, frankly, for a TV movie in the ‘70s, surprised the hell out of me. There is a brilliant scene at an AA meeting (which Sarah walks out of after hearing an 11-year-old admit he is an alcoholic), but it’s the final 10-15 minutes of Sarah T. Portrait of a Teenage Alcoholic that will shock you.
Written by husband / wife team Richard and Esther Shapiro, Sarah T. Portrait of a Teenage Alcoholic is a movie with a message, and it delivers that message with a crippling right hook. Rating: 9 out of 10
The threat of television loomed heavy over the motion picture industry in the early 1950s, and Hollywood needed to up the ante to compete with the more convenient home-based medium.
It was then that Cinerama was born.
Invented by film pioneer Fred Waller, Cinerama utilized images shot by three individual cameras, operating in unison by way of a single shutter, that, when projected, offered viewers a widescreen experience like no other, a complete “field of vision” presentation beamed onto a 146-degree screen that wrapped around the theater. Combined with another new innovation, stereophonic sound, the Cinerama process was unlike anything seen before, and the movie that introduced it to the world was the 1952 documentary This Is Cinerama.
Produced and co-directed by Merian C. Cooper, the mastermind behind another revolutionary motion picture, 1933’s King Kong, This is Cinerama opens with a black and white sequence, presented in the standard aspect ratio, during which narrator Lowell Thomas offers a rundown of the history of moving images, from the attempts by prehistoric man and ancient Egyptians to show pictures in motion to the days of early animation, Thomas Edison, and The Great Train Robbery.
Once this segment is over, Lowell, staring straight ahead, bellows “Ladies and gentlemen, this is Cinerama”, at which point the screen expands, the picture changes from black and white to color, and the viewer is treated, in full stereo sound, to a ride on a rollercoaster (the cameras were attached to the front of the Atom Smasher coaster in New York’s Rockaway Playland).
I can only imagine how that first audience reacted to this initial sequence, but to paraphrase Al Jolson in 1927’s The Jazz Singer, they ain’t seen nothing yet!
This is Cinerama follows it up with a variety of amazing segments, shot in Venice (including a Gondola ride), Scotland (The Rally of the Clans at Edinburgh Castle), Vienna (featuring an outdoor performance by the Vienna Boys Choir), Spain (where we witness a bull fight in a packed arena), and Milan (one of the film’s most impressive sequences, the triumphal scene from the opera Aida, staged at the La Scala Opera House).
Then, after a brief intermission and a demonstration (audio only) of Stereophonic sound, This is Cinerama focuses on a more “American” experience, with a half-hour water show at Florida’s Cypress Gardens followed by aerial images (shot from a B-25 bomber) of some of the country’s more familiar landscapes, including Manhattan, Washington D.C., Chicago, the Mississippi River, and the Grand Canyon. Even today, in this age of high-tech entertainment, all of the film’s sequences are breathtaking.
The three-camera process as presented in This is Cinerama would be featured in a handful of movies over the next 10 years, mostly documentaries (Search for Paradise in 1957, South Seas Adventures in 1958), but also in two narrative films, both released in 1962: The Wonderful World of the Brothers Grimm and the amazing How the West Was Won. It was during the making of How the West Was Won that the Cinerama corporation realized it could create a similar (though not quite as grand) widescreen 70mm experience using a single camera, as opposed to the more expensive three-camera set-up. This new technique, renamed Ultra Panavision 70, would become the standard for Cinerama in the years to come, and be utilized in such movies as It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World, The Greatest Story Ever Told, The Hallelujah Trail, and, most recently, Quentin Tarantino’s The Hateful Eight. Still, even with its short life span, This is Cinerama proved there was something special about that three-camera set-up. Watching it on Blu-Ray, projected onto my high-definition television, gave me a taste of just how cutting-edge this process was at the time, yet I can’t help but envy those lucky patrons who saw the movie in 1952 on that 146-degree screen.
I was enthralled, impressed, and entertained, but they were witnesses to history in the making.
Rating: 9 out of 10
In 1968, 51-year-old Richard Proenneke, mechanic and veteran of the U.S. Navy, retired and settled in the Alaskan wilderness, specifically the Twin Lakes area. Skilled at woodworking, Proenneke arrived in May of that year and spent the summer building a log cabin.
Using 8mm films shot by Proenneke himself, and with narration (by producer Bob Swerer Jr) lifted directly from the outdoorsman’s personal journal, 2004’s Alone in the Wilderness brings his entire first year in the Alaskan wilds to the screen, and it is a fascinating watch.
Like all nature documentaries, there are some stunning shots of the Twin Lakes area, from ice breaking up on the lake to scenes of caribou, brown bears, and rams on the surrounding mountainsides. But the bulk of Alone in the Wilderness’s 57 minutes is dedicated to Proenneke building his retirement cabin from the ground up. At first, I wasn’t sure if watching a guy build a cabin was going to hold my attention. Proenneke went into great detail in his journals, laying out the process of not only assembling a comfortable, waterproof dwelling, but also the amenities he would need. At one point he carves a wooden spoon out of a stump, making it just big enough so that one pour from it would equal one flapjack.
The more detail he went into, however, the more intriguing I found the movie. Who would have thought watching a guy make wooden hinges for a front door could have me on the edge of my seat?
We see it all, including the construction of his icebox (buried in the ground and covered with moss, it maintained a temperature of 40 degrees even when it was 80+ outside); the building of his fireplace (an especially tedious, though entirely necessary process); and even his outhouse!
As interesting as the footage and narration are, it’s the sheer magnitude of the project itself, and Proenneke’s tireless dedication to seeing it through to the end, that really impressed me. From his smokehouse to the storage containers he rolled himself out of sheet metal, this guy thought of absolutely everything, and I sat in awe of what he was able to accomplish.
Alone in the Wilderness does feature some additional footage shot by producer / narrator Bob Swerer Jr, which, because the quality of the image is so different from the rest of the movie, proves a distraction. The extra shots are mostly inserts of wildlife in their natural habitat, but one late segment, where Proenneke describes how he made ram stew, which is then brought to life by this “new footage”, felt particularly unnecessary. And while Proenneke was an amazing survivalist and outdoorsman, he was not the best photographer. The scenes of him building the cabin, when he set up the camera from a distance and left it running, are actually better than his shots of the landscape. Still, these are minor quibbles, and do not detract from the experience of watching this captivating film journal.
Richard Proenneke would spend the majority of the next 30 years living off the land, finally returning to the Continental U.S. in 1999 at age 83 to live the remainder of his days with his brother in California. Alone in the Wilderness chronicles that first year, which saw harsh winter conditions and threats from bears, wolves, and other creatures. I doubt I would’ve survived that first year. I doubt most people would. To have done so for another 29 years on top of it is beyond amazing. Rating: 8 out of 10
On the heels of MGM’s hit 1936 film San Francisco, Darryl Zanuck and 20th Century Fox countered with In Old Chicago, a fictionalized biopic of the O’Leary family, whose cow is rumored to have sparked the deadly 1871 fire that destroyed a large section of the city.
While relocating his young family to Chicago, Patrick O’Leary (J. Anthomy Hughes) is killed in a freak accident. Left on her own, his widow Molly (Alice Brady) brings up their three boys, two of whom would make a name for themselves in the city.
Oldest son Dion O’Leary (Tyrone Power) is a schemer with big dreams. After convincing lounge singer Belle Fawcett (Alice Faye) to join him in a new business venture, Dion alienates Gil Warren (Brian Donlevy), Belle’s previous employer and the most powerful crime boss in the section of Old Chicago known as “The Patch”. Establishing himself as the new driving force of “The Patch”, Dion manages to get his younger brother Jack (Don Ameche) elected as Chicago’s new Mayor, using deception and backdoor dealings to steal the election from Warren himself, who ran against him.
A trained lawyer, Jack takes his new position seriously, and intends to clean up Chicago by wiping out the political corruption running rampant in “The Patch”. In so doing, he finds himself squaring off time and again against Dion. But when a fire started in the O’Leary’s barn threatens to wipe out the city, the two brothers put their differences aside and do what they can to save their beloved Chicago.
Tyrone Power has charisma to spare in the role of Dion, a swindler and crook who is always looking for the advantage in any situation. Whether it’s stealing a shirt from his mother’s laundry business to wear for the evening or making unwanted passes at Belle (the initial scenes between the two, where Dion comes on strong and refuses to take ‘no’ for an answer, don’t play so well today), this is a guy who usually gets what he wants, and won’t back down until he does.
With a smile on his face, Dion lies and steals his way to the top of Chicago’s underworld, to the point that he’s powerful enough to rig an election in his brother’s favor. By the time the final act rolls around, Dion is firmly established as the film’s true villain, and yet Power is so damn likable in the role that we can’t help but admire the guy!
Don Ameche is also solid as the straightlaced, well-meaning brother; as are both Alice Faye (who gets to sing a few songs) and Alice Brady (winner of that year’s Best Supporting Actress Oscar for her turn as the cantankerous Mrs. O’Leary), but from the moment he first strolls on-screen, In Old Chicago belongs to Tyrone Power.
As it was with San Francisco, all the drama, the family spats, and the political machinations are merely a set-up for the disaster yet to come: a reenactment of the Great Chicago Fire of 1871. Director Henry King and his crew spent $150,000 on this final segment, and the fire is a sight to behold. Walls topple, buildings explode, and houses burn to the ground, all at a fever pitch. There’s drama here as well; Gil Warren manages to convince many residents of “The Patch” that Mayor Jack O’Leary, who had been looking to have that section of Old Chicago condemned, started the fire intentionally. Warren even assembles a posse to confront Jack as Chicago burns around them. Still, it’s the awesome spectacle of a city on fire, presented so realistically, that makes this final act as hard-hitting as it is.
Yet much like San Francisco before it, In Old Chicago ultimately proves to be more than the sum of its disaster sequences. In fact, I found myself so wrapped up in the story of the O’Leary boys and their squabbles that I had forgotten about the tragedy to come! In Old Chicago works as an early disaster film, but it works just as well as an example of a big Hollywood production done right. Rating: 9 out of 10
Don’t Make Waves gets off to a wild start, then barely slows down to take a breath.
Tourist Carlo Cofield (Tony Curtis) stops along a stretch of road in Southern California to admire the ocean view. Also nearby is temperamental artist Laura Califatti (Claudia Cardinale), who, after abandoning her effort to paint a picture of the landscape, angrily hops into her car and speeds off. Unfortunately, she clipped the bumper of poor Carlo’s vehicle on the way out, sending it careening down a hill and off the side of a cliff!
Stranded and with no money (his car exploded on impact, burning all of his worldly possessions), Carlo spends the night in Laura’s beach house, with the promise that she will give him her insurance information, to pay for the damages, the next morning.
Things take an uncomfortable turn when Laura’s “benefactor”, Rod Prescott (Robert Webber), president of a company that installs luxury swimming pools, turns up in the middle of the night and demands that Carlo leave immediately.
Forced to spend the rest of the evening on the beach, Carlo nearly drowns during high tide the next morning, but is rescued by the gorgeous Mailbu (Sharon Tate), a sexy skydiver who is dating body builder Harry (played by David Draper, at the time the reigning Mr. Universe).
Realizing the true nature of Laura’s and Rod’s romance (Rod is already married, and Laura is his mistress), Carlo weasels his way into a job with Rod’s pool company, promising, in exchange for his employment, he’ll keep his mouth shut and not reveal anything about Laura or the affair to Mrs. Prescott (Joanna Barnes).
Now gamefully employed, and having recently purchased both a beautiful house and a classic car for practically nothing, Carlo sets his sights on winning the heart of Malibu by forcing a wedge between she and Harry, going so far as to convince the bodybuilder, with the help of a writer / astrologer whose pen name is “Madame Lavinia” (Edgar Bergen), that sex wears the body down, and could keep him from winning the upcoming championship.
Everything comes to a head during a torrential rainstorm, at which point Carlo and the others discover why his house was so inexpensive.
A later entry in the Southern California beach movie craze, Don’t Make Waves is a breezy, lighthearted romantic comedy, with Tony Curtis giving a strong performance as the lead who, though likable, has a sinister streak a mile wide. Not only does he blackmail his way into getting a job (after first proving his talents as a salesman by talking none other than Jim Backus, who appears briefly as himself, into buying a pool), but he’s also slick and dishonest in the way he breaks up Harry and Malibu. In fact, by the time the final act rolls around, we feel a little guilty that we like Carlo as much as we do!
Claudia Cardinale is beautiful as always, but also demonstrates here that she is an able comedienne (her opening scenes are a riot), while Webber, Barnes, Tate, and Bergen hold their own in supporting roles.
Featuring a handful of crazy moments (including a skydiving fiasco and a pretty costly mudslide); a catchy title song (performed by The Byrds); and more than its share of bikinis, Don’t Make Waves flows along at a brisk pace, and manages to keep us smiling the entire time! Rating: 9 out of 10
Neil deGrasse Tyson is one very, very smart dude. Having studied at Harvard, Columbia, and Princeton, he is the world’s foremost Astrophysicist. He’s penned a number of books, researched everything from cosmology to stellar evolution, and holds well over 20 honorary degrees. In 2001 President George W. Bush even appointed Tyson to a Commission tasked with laying out the future of the United States Aerospace Industry
In short, the guy knows his stuff, especially when it comes to physics and outer space. So, when Neil deGrasse Tyson appeared on The Late Show with Stephen Colbert in October of 2023 and said Roland Emmerich’s Moonfall violated more laws of physics per minute than any other science fiction movie he’d ever seen, you can bet it’s the truth.
But then, Roland Emmerich also made The Day After Tomorrow and 2012, neither of which are known for their scientific accuracy. And let’s face it: a movie about the moon breaking orbit and hurtling towards earth is gonna require more than the usual “suspension of disbelief”.
Neil DeGrasse Tyson is a man of science. Roland Emmerich is a showman, and Moonfall, as insane and unscientific as it may be, is, first and foremost, entertainment. On that level, it is at least somewhat successful.
That said, there are characters and scenes scattered throughout Moonfall that had me longing for the subtlety of The Day After Tomorrow!
Eleven years after an accident in space was blamed on his “human error”, former astronaut Brian Harper (Patrick Wilson) has been struggling to make ends meet. Divorced from his wife Brenda (Carolina Bartczak) and estranged from his son (Charlie Plummer), Harper continues to insist he did nothing wrong that fateful day aboard the Space Shuttle. Unfortunately, nobody believes him. Not even his former friend and colleague, Jocinda Fowler (Halle Berry), who is now the Deputy Director of NASA.
Then something incredible happens: conspiracy theorist K.C. Houseman (John Bradley), leader of a small group that’s convinced the moon is not a planetary body but an alien-built megastructure, determines that the moon has changed its orbit, and is moving closer to earth.
Initially dismissing Houseman as a crackpot, Harper is stunned to discover NASA has also noticed the orbital discrepancies. What’s more, there’s a strong possibility the trouble is being caused by alien technology, which has altered the moon’s trajectory and put it on a collision course with earth!
As with most of his movies, Emmerich generates some genuine excitement and impressive destruction throughout Moonfall, with tidal shifts flooding out coastal towns and loose fragments from the approaching moon crashing to earth, leveling entire cities. There is also a plot twist in the last half hour or so that leaves little doubt what we’re watching (and what Emmerich intended) is straight-up science fiction, with no footing in reality whatsoever.
As for the characters, I did enjoy John Bradley’s turn as Houseman, a guy who hasn’t achieved much in life and is struggling to care for his mother (Kathleen Fee), who suffers from Alzheimer’s. As for Wilson and Berry, Moonfall is far from their finest hour. Wilson isn’t particularly likable through much of the film, with his Harper coming off as moody and kind of arrogant; while Berry doesn’t seem to be putting her heart into it at all. A few supporting players, including Michael Pena as Brenda’s new husband and Kelly Yu as Michelle, an exchange student acting as nanny for Fowler’s son Jimmy (Zayn Maloney), fare better than the main stars.
Yet the real stinker in Moonfall is its script, written by Emmerich, Harald Kloser, and Spenser Cohen. Along with its plethora of far-fetched situations, the dialogue is obvious and trite, and somne of the secondary characters are as one-dimensional as they come (worst of all being NASA Director Albert Hutchings, played by Stephen Bogaert, who is the typical “movie” official, i.e. – unreasonable, deceitful, and cowardly).
Bottom line: I didn’t go into Moonfall expecting to learn anything about space or science. I wanted a fun disaster movie, with decent special effects and a whole lot of destruction.
And it’s a good thing that’s all I wanted, because that’s all I got! If it was intriguing dialogue or believable characters I was after, I would have been as disappointed as Neil deGrasse Tyson! Rating: 5 out of 10
Nigel Dobson (Hugh Grant) and his wife of seven years, Fiona (Kristin Scott Thomas), are on a Mediterranean cruise. Shortly after boarding the ship, they meet French beauty Mimi (Emmanuelle Seigner) and, later, her wheelchair-bound American husband Oscar (Peter Coyote).
An unpublished writer, the cynical Oscar invites Nigel back to his room on several occasions, regaling the young man with the entire story of his romantic past with Mimi, from the moment their eyes first met aboard a Paris bus through to their more recent history, when the two have come to despise one another.
Realizing that Nigel is smitten with his estranged wife, Oscar, who is paralyzed from the waist down, uses these meetings as a way to enflame Nigel’s passion, promising him that, once his tale is over, he is free to do as he wishes with Mimi.
But is that really why Oscar is revealing his deepest, most personal secrets to Nigel, or does he have another motive altogether?
The bulk of Roman Polanski’s Bitter Moon is told in flashback, with scenes of Oscar’s and Mimi’s tumultuous affair as related by Oscar himself, thus making him the narrator of these sequences. There are plenty of steamy moments during said flashbacks, everything from implied oral sex to roleplay and even bondage. “Have you ever truly idolized a woman?”, Oscar asks Nigel at one point. “Nothing can be obscene in such love. Everything that occurs between it becomes a sacrament”.
Polanski does not shy away from the early passion that drives Oscar and Mimi, nor does he hold back when the relationship sours, with first Oscar humiliating Mimi on a regular basis (and he is cruel as hell, criticizing her hair and make-up at a party while romancing two other women at once), then forcing her to have an abortion when she announces she is with child. Oscar even agrees to take Mimi on vacation to the Caribbean, then hops off the plane just before it takes off, convinced he has finally rid himself of her.
Even with him acting as narrator, we despise Oscar in these moments. So, when Mimi returns a few years later, as Oscar is recovering in hospital from being struck by a car, she begins to treat her now-crippled former lover in much the same way he treated her. These scenes are just as difficult to sit through, yet we can’t help but feel that Oscar deserves it.
Tying the flashbacks together are the scenes involving Nigel and Fiona. Nigel can barely conceal his attraction to Mimi, and a wounded Fiona, in response, flirts openly with a young man (Luca Vellani) she meets in the bar. Having witnessed the collapse of the relationship between Oscar and Mimi, we now watch as another is on the brink of destruction, and Polanski ensures that we the audience side with the ladies in both instances, even if their behavior does also, occasionally, cross the line.
The performances are spot-on, with Coyote standing out as the oft-loathsome Oscar; and Polanski (who also co-wrote the screenplay) shines a light throughout Bitter Moon on some very difficult subject matter as it pertains to relationships, presenting it all in such a way that even the most perverse sequences (whether described by Oscar or shown in detail) come across as honest.
A sweltering erotic drama that crosses into thriller territory (especially in the final act), Bitter Moon is a fascinating study of the destructive side of romance, and how it can not only wound, but destroy lovers. Rating: 8.5 out of 10
