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Valley Girl (1983)
A solidly enjoyable minor classic
I know it can sometimes seem as if the contemporary world seen in silent movies is practically fantastical, but even with the benefits of being sixty-some years more recent, and a soundtrack populated with big hits, this isn't much different. The Valley culture, with its preppy attitudes of false propriety and pastel, collared fashion, is all but alien. While the punk culture Randy comes from is more familiar, there are still social values and cues at play that to me seem out of this world, and I don't know how much of that can be attributed to contemporary L. A. genuinely being so different, and how much to me being a fairly asocial person. The house parties, the very public ogling of the opposite sex, the dating, the way that the friend groups interact - I've been told that Amy Heckerling's 'Clueless' is surprisingly true to life, so could that really mean that 'Valley girl' is, too? That's hard for me to fathom.
If we can get past the culture shock, the catchy songs - and, well, also the total sleaziness of too many male characters, the ugly prejudice we see on full display of "in" groups and "out" groups, passing instances of homophobic language, and possibly triggering references to eating disorders - there's a lot to like about this flick. It's a romantic comedy-drama, sure, rooted in very familiar territory, but we're also greeted with meaningful themes and ideas as Julie finds herself torn between the oddball outsider that's an unlikely match, and the very judgmental, controlling corner of society that she and her friends grew up in. It feels strange to revisit this forty years later and see Nicolas Cage so young in the first place, and secondly giving a performance that's more restrained and down to earth than so many others he has given, but he's a gem nonetheless; I know Deborah Foreman didn't necessarily get high marks for her acting, but given Julie's predicament and troubled mindset, I think she does just swell. That's to say nothing of the personality lent to the proceedings by Cameron Dye, Frederic Forrest, Elizabeth Daily, and those in other supporting parts.
I'm not saying that the picture is any sort of must-see, but writers and producers Wayne Crawford and Andrew Lane give us a solid story, blended with kernels of fun humor, and realized through strong scene writing and apt characterizations. Martha Coolidge isn't busting down doors with her direction, but she ably brings every mood to bear with a steady low buzz of electricity to keep the feature fresh. Further taking into account the production design and art direction, and costume design, hair, and makeup, 'Valley girl' can claim plenty of flavor to realize the clash of cultures and hearts. It's neither riotously funny nor specifically impactful, but it does earn laughs and it does provide some modest food for thought as we're treated to an admirable blend of earnestness and entertainment that ensures a good time. Whatever one's impetus for watching there's no need to go out of your way for this, and I quite think we could have done without some tidbits that haven't aged well. If you have the chance to watch, though, it's an enjoyable film that holds up reasonably well, and I'm glad to give 'Valley girl' my fair recommendation.
Napoléon vu par Abel Gance (1927)
A colossal classic that still remains stunning and vibrant
Long before this epic ever even entered the planning stages, filmmaker Abel Gance had already proven himself to be an early master of the medium. 1923's 'La roue' is marvelously absorbing; 'Les gaz mortels,' of 1916, is earnestly thrilling and suspenseful; his 1919 war epic 'J'accuse' has scarcely once left my thoughts since I watched it many months ago. As if there could ever be any doubt, 'Napoléon' only further cements the man's legacy as an icon and a pioneer who is sadly underappreciated in the wider world of cinema. It would behoove one to read all about this momentous production, and the various restorations it has undergone in the past 100 years, because the ongoing story of the picture is fascinating in and of itself. Regardless, scarcely any sooner than it begins one starts to appreciate why Gance is and should be so revered, and why this 1927 feature continues to stand tall all these decades later. From the first to the last 'Napoléon' is a treasure, and anyone who considers themselves a cinephile should make it a priority to see it at one time or another.
By all means, there's a tremendous amount to appreciate here in the same way as it true of most movies. The cast is roundly superb; even child actors seen fleetingly make a minor impression, nevermind young Vladimir Roudenko who was only 17 when he made his mark as the general in boyhood, and let alone Albert Dieudonné, the chief star of the biopic, and many others. From the youngest to the oldest each player demonstrates range, nuance, poise, and emotional depth beyond what is customarily presumed of the silent era, and just as much to the point, beyond what anyone demonstrated in Ridley Scott's bogus bluster of 2023. The filming locations are excellent, and more than that, the sets are totally outstanding - rich with intoxicating detail we can easily get lost in, and bringing the world of two centuries ago to vivid life. The same could be said of the costume design, hair, and makeup, and we've not even touched upon Gance's keen eye for shot composition, the supremely mindful use of lighting and shadow that further enriches the proceedings, or his impeccable direction that again and again latches onto and amplifies the vibrancy to be discovered in even the most outwardly mundane sequence. No moment is too small to stand tall in Gance's vision.
But we're just getting started. Within even only the first miniscule fraction of the runtime - whatever runtime that may be, depending on the restoration we're able to get our hands on - Gance, and co-editor Marguerite Beaugé, and cinematographer Jules Kruger, illustrate technical ingenuity and innovation that is all but mind-blowing. There is much that audiences take for granted in the twenty-first century, techniques and technology that are so common now as to be all but passé. In 1927, such techniques and technology were just being developed, and if they weren't being seen for the first time, then they were still being met with fresh eyes upon every incidence and every showing. This includes, to my utmost, rapturous delight, camera movement, and hand-held camerawork. It includes rapid, nigh phantasmagoric cutting and sequencing, split-screen presentation that at times is all but kaleidoscopic, multiple exposure and superimposition, projection onto multiple screens, and creative, varied tinting. It includes close-ups, point-of-view shots, location shooting, and still more. In 2024 such things are seen quite routinely. In 1927, they were groundbreaking, and for anyone who admires the art form as much as I do, it takes our breath away.
And we're still not done. There's the terrific special makeup, stunts, practical effects, and action sequences that are unexpectedly jarring. There's the sense of both grandeur and spectacle, and of an epic in the truest sense as we follow a figure on such a remarkable journey of life, over so many years, even setting aside the many meters of film stock that were involved in the process. That Kevin Brownlow's most widely available restorations of the 2000s clock in at five and one-half hours, that the most recent restoration that premiered in Paris is over seven hours, and that other iterations - depending on reconstructed footage, or projector speed - have ranged from three hours at the most abbreviated, to an astonishing supposed nine and one-half hours upon the film's most famous exhibition in May 1927, only underscores the immensity of the project. At a time when one- and two-reel shows were common, and "full-length" titles were regularly fifty to sixty minutes, and anything two to three hours long was fairly extraordinary, the enormity of Gance's undertaking for his treatment of Napoleon Bonaparte is difficult to even fathom. With meticulous scene writing and a comprehensive narrative setting the stage for all the ardor of the execution, it cannot be overstated what a phenomenal accomplishment 'Napoléon' is even on just the most fundamental level of its construction.
Even if one does not customarily engage with the silent era, there cannot possibly be any denying the magnificence of this grand endeavor. Even if one should personally take issue with the pacing, the strength of one scene compared to another, the scope and breadth of Gance's treatment (for example, whatever I've learned of the French legend in the past, I don't think I've ever heard of Pasquale Paoli or Pozzo di Borgo, but the filmmaker ensures that we know their names), or some other facet, from one moment to the next the whole is so wonderfully engrossing and satisfying, in truly every way, that such subjective considerations invariably feel minor. Regardless of precisely what we judge its quality to be, this picture is an achievement with relatively few comparisons, on the order of Georges Méliès' imaginative 'A trip to the moon,' the Technicolor bliss of 'The Wizard of Oz,' the dazzling scale and like vision of 'Apocalypse now,' or the otherworldly reverie of Peter Jackson's 'Lord of the rings' trilogy. For all that, the fact is that I, for one, find the quality here to be only the very highest. Gance's ambition was great, yet with such fantastic skill, intelligence, hard work, and care poured into the production, so too is the end result. 'Napoléon' is an enduring marvel.
If all these words have been too loquacious, however, allow me to speak more plainly. There are many, many shots throughout the feature that are a true feast for the eyes, and they wouldn't look out of place framed and hung on a wall. There are many, many sequences that are just as fabulously resplendent and innervating, giving us an incredible abundance and stir to take in. Some action sequences are so smartly shot and assembled, and so genuinely invigorating and exciting, that I would have no qualms standing them shoulder to shoulder with other examples to follow in all the many subsequent years. At any given time we might be entranced with the technical craft, with the labor of the production and filming, with the scene or plot point that is unfolding, or perhaps still something else or maybe all at once, and the fact is that every last trace is just as exceptional, and just as worthy of praise and recognition. While I wouldn't necessarily name it as one of my favorites, and while it may not fully resonate on the same level as other exemplars over the years, this title is such a triumph that I'm inclined to think it inherently deserves to be named as one of the best pictures ever made. It is, in all honesty, just that brilliant and striking.
If there is any possible criticism to impart, it may be that in the latter half the energy slackens somewhat, and the viewing experience becomes a little more ordinary, not least as the narrative shifts for a time toward the subject's domestic life. At no time is this any less well made, but one could argue that some portions lack the same fervent vitality - and indeed, the same ingenuity - that commonly courses throughout the length otherwise. Be that as it may, there's not truly any going wrong here. It won't immediately appeal to all comers, nor find equal favor with all. No matter how we may scrutinize, though, it would be a terrible mistake to pass up the opportunity to watch; whether one is specifically enamored with the silent era or just deeply in love with cinema as a whole, this century-old masterpiece is a gem that continues to inspire awe. No minutiae are so tiny as to have escaped Gance's attention in shaping this creation; no minutiae are too tiny to bring joy to the attentive viewer, and to mesmerize us, long, long before this ever reaches a climax. Even in a medium full of sensations, 'Napoléon' is a rare pleasure. From the surprising strength of the very first scene through to the final stretch, presented as a triptych, that is utterly outstanding and sincerely inspired and captivating, I can only give it my very high, hearty, and enthusiastic recommendation.
Ben-Hur (2016)
At times genuinely good; too often, decidedly questionable
Fred Niblo's silent epic of 1925 remains a tremendous classic that holds up as well today as when it premiered almost 100 years ago. The sets are utterly incredible, the costume design is gorgeous, the violence is surprisingly violent and gripping, and the climactic chariot race is legendary. Of course, William Wyler's 1959 rendition with Charlton Heston is more famous, now, but it can claim all the same splendor. It also claims the same flaws, though. While the core of both iterations is the saga of the prince who became a slave, in turn an adopted son of Rome, and then a champion, the sad truth is that both are also greatly diminished by the horridly heavy-handed shoehorning of religion into that saga. It's done in different ways, to some extent, but the biblical bluster is inserted so gawkily into the proceedings that it terribly weighs down the whole(s) and emphatically reduces the lasting value that the films can claim. I suppose all this can be traced to Lew Wallace's novel, but as I've not read it, I can't say. All this is is just patter, however, building to the immediately relevant question: literary faithfulness notwithstanding, what might we anticipate of a new interpretation of 'Ben-Hur' in 2016, made by the same man who brought us - um, pardon me, I'm a little taken aback here - 'Abraham Lincoln: Vampire hunter?'
There is significant, questionable stylization here, at some points more than others, but at least it's usually not as garish as in Timur Bekmambetov's best known work. Troubling as that is, I'm more concerned with how gawkily forced and brusque the man's direction is, not least in moments that are supposed to be rousing or moving; the first scene in which we see Jesus, for example, nearly inspires laughter. Speaking of which, the dialogue is often clunky, and the scene writing often pointedly unsubtle. Moreover, the scene writing, and the orchestration of shots and scenes, relies heavily on very modern sensibilities of tension or spectacle. Case in point, it seems to me that Bekmambetov takes a lot of cues from Peter Jackson's biggest achievement: in gritty battle sequences, with marching soldiers, in the portrayal of a snowy mountaintop, in the visualization of Jerusalem as a vertically resplendent metropolis, and so on, and so on. Now, I'm not about to lambaste this production for big-budget modern standards in contrast with the older variants seen in 1925 and 1959 - I made that mistake before with 'Star Trek: Enterprise' - but there's no mistaking how very shiny and new this feature looks; make of that what you will. Looks, and sounds, if we're being honest, considering not just the robust sound design but also Marco Beltrami's score.
With all this firmly in mind, I have to give credit where it's due. Screenwriters Keith Clarke and John Ridley do occasionally provide some earnest treatment of the material. Wyler had improved upon Niblo in terms of how Messala is depicted, giving the antagonist a tad more complexity, and I think Clarke and RIdley improve still more upon that by accentuating the depths and nature of his friendship with Judah. Just as much to the point, the path that led to Messala betraying Judah is also given some smart consideration, and arguably comes off better here than it has before. I dare say Judah, too, is made out to be a more complicated person in this script than in those prior exemplars. Then again, even on paper the galley sequence - one of the two most critical highlights of both 1925 and 1959 - is made to be far more visceral and gnarly, but at the same time it's so overdone (and, yes, stylized) that it quite lacks the finessed, deliberate potency of what came before. Some later scenes with Jesus actually do inspire laughter for how melodramatic and overwrought they are. I'm not about to give a definitive statement on the precise plot development in these two hours, and whether or not this conception is better or worse than that of the predecessors in light of the slightly different path it takes, but I will say that one way or another I'm not fully convinced.
And still we must contend with the fact that where Clarke and Ridley's writing isn't the issue, Bekmambetov's direction too often is; it's one thing to make a new 'Ben-Hur,' and it's another to twist the telling into something that audiences addicted to action blockbusters will flock to. By no means is his guidance all bad, just as the picture as a whole is not all bad. Scrutinize as we may, there's much to appreciate in one manner or another. It is gratifying that Bekmambetov accordingly worked so hard to minimize the use of computer-generated imagery, and where it is used I think it's woven in well for the most part. The filming locations are beautiful, and the detail we see in the production design and art direction, and in the costume design, hair, and makeup, is all very welcome and most excellent. I admire the work of the sound department, even if the sound design is a tad imbalanced (quiet scenes exist on a separate level from the greatest clamor, and voiceovers are louder yet). Beltrami's score feels a smidgen out of place with its modern chords, and may even be too overly dramatic for the movie, but I'm hardly going to outright dismiss the man's skills as a composer. The stunts and effects are fantastic. This title has problems, but among them is not specifically that it is poorly made.
I think what it comes down to is that this flick tries much too hard to appeal to modern audiences, and in the process forgets what made its antecedents resonate so stupendously. The visuals are fetching, but there is no contrast or nuance; it aims for spectacle, but goes overboard and feels empty; it is dramatic, but too overzealous in its dispensation. The refined touch, and the delicate hand and mindfulness that made the 'Ben-Hur' of 1925 and the 'Ben-Hur' of 1959 so powerful at their best, is here turned into coarseness, overconfidence, and carelessness. There are high notes, including the fundamental craftsmanship and other small moments, and improvements including not just Messala and Judah but arguably even how supporting character Esther is written, and how the bits about Jesus are infused (decidedly imperfect, if not altogether unnecessary, though they may be). Then we see another instance of how this goes wrong, however, and unfortunately even the essential chariot race - the other most critical highlight of both 1925 and 1959 - suffers from the same faults as the galley sequence. Well and truly, I don't think this is downright bad, and no one is more surprised than I am by me saying that. But at too many times it is careless, or at least approached with too little care, and the result is unmistakably a lesser creation than its forebears.
I won't say "don't watch this." I will say that even for what 2016 does well, 1925 and 1959 remain distinctly more vital and stunning despite their own faults, and that if you want to watch 'Ben-Hur,' you're better off with one of the older productions. I will say that if you want to watch a modern blockbuster, this is made for you, but then, so are many other unrelated contemporaries that are otherwise stronger features in many, many regards. With the two most important scenes of the cinematic adaptations being overcooked in this case, with other odds and ends being written into the narrative somewhat flimsily, with the intended meaningful ending causing one to flinch with skepticism, and with Bekmambetov's direction and other facets raising doubts in our minds again and again, why would we take time to watch this except for sheer curiosity? As is almost always true, I'm genuinely glad for those who get more out this than I do. On the balance, however, the strengths and weaknesses do not result in a film of especial lasting value, so unless you're that cinephile who will watch almost anything and everything, there's not much need to spend time wondering if you should watch 2016's 'Ben-Hur.' My commendations to all involved for what they did accomplish - and my best wishes that in the future and elsewhere all will more surely demonstrate their skills. Part of me wants to like this more than I do, but even as the outrageously stylized end credits flash on our screen (suggesting AL:VH after all), part of me also wonders if I'm not being far too generous in my assessment.
Robin Hood (1973)
Still an absolute treasure, a delight for all ages
It's been a very long time since I last watched this, but I have fond memories of it from my childhood. There's no getting around the influence it has had in the fifty years since its release: being the foundation of one of the first widespread memes on the modern Internet; being referenced in unrelated ad campaigns; inspiring animators, filmmakers, and voice actors to come; and among still more, helping normies like me to in some measure understand the furry community of which we can otherwise make neither head nor tail. (Listen, even I won't deny - to borrow the verbiage of someone or other, both Robin Hood and Maid Marian can Get It.) This is to say nothing of the classic adaptation of a classic story with its classic, (infuriatingly) timeless themes; the classic music, and the classic humor that appeals to kids and adults alike; the classic animation, even if some of it is borrowed from past Disney titles; and so on. The scene writing, the dialogue, and the reimagined characters are all utmost joys; the voice acting is a delight; from character designs, to backgrounds, to action scenes and all active elements, the visuals are a pleasure.
Hardly sooner than it begins, there's no mistaking that 'Robin Hood' holds up stupendously. Sure, we can say that animation has advanced in the years since, but that's true of every art form over time. We can say that the depiction in an early scene of Roma stereotypes is less than perfect, and distinctly needs to be acknowledged, but I'm not inclined to think the incidence here is so severe as to deserve outright condemnation. We can harp on the recycled animation, or on how some character designs rely on cultural notions of what various animals represent that are so well-worn that they're basically just clichés; at the same time, this kind of just comes with the territory of animation of past years, and with fiction that anthropomorphizes animals. One could also easily otherwise get bogged down in the details, and write a whole book about the values that are represented in these eighty-three minutes, the details of the script from humor to visual gags and tiny kernels of dialogue, and so on. No matter how much we may scrutinize or criticize, however, it also says something that there's so much to digest and explore here.
Much has been made over time of how some kids' movies lean extra hard into being so silly and simple that only a child could appreciate it, and how especially in more recent years filmmakers have been more thoughtful - refusing to underestimate kids' intelligence, and penning more nuanced and complex fare that can truly appeal to audiences of all ages. Revisiting this 1973 picture after so long, I freely admit that I didn't anticipate it would count among such latter examples, but in fact, I quite think it does. Producer and director Wolfgang Reitherman, and the considerable team of writers behind this production, offer up a lighthearted tale of swashbuckling adventure and heroism that I firmly believe everyone can enjoy on one level or another. Some tidbits deserve a more discerning eye, yes, but they don't specifically take away from the fun, or from the meaningful ideas that are so integral to the legend of Robin Hood. If in any way this feature stops short of being genuinely impeccable, for the level on which it operates, what's the functional difference? Either way, I'd not hesitate in the slightest to call it a must-see.
Nevermind the specific songs that have endured in pop culture; even the score is a total blast, and in my opinion possibly stronger overall. Every action sequence boasts terrific energy, and frankly that vitality is flush through every other scene, too, no matter the mood. With splendid, careful minutiae filling out the story, scenes, dialogue, and characters, the visual experience, and even the voice acting, there's so much to love all throughout this flick. Why, the film keeps us so thoroughly locked in that by the time we're only halfway through it feels as if we've already had our satisfying fill, and that there still remains so much more is just a wonderful, rewarding bonus. How many other works in the entire medium can make the same claim? In every way that matters, I don't think there's any going wrong here. While I understand that it won't hold equal favor with all comers, no matter who you are, 'Robin Hood' is smart, flavorful, and immensely entertaining, and I hold that everyone needs to see it at one time or another. Five decades later this remains a great treasure, and I can only give it my very high, hearty, and enthusiastic recommendation!
I pugni in tasca (1965)
Not all films are made for all viewers.
Despite my best efforts there are some highly lauded films that I just can't get on board with, or which don't do anything for me, even if I do like them in one measure or another. Despite repeated efforts, there are some esteemed filmmakers that I struggle with in a like capacity, for I might love some of their pictures and hate others, or even be bored by them. As it should happen this is my first experience with filmmaker Marco Bellocchio, so I can't necessarily place him in the same category as Ingmar Bergman, Jean Luc Goddard, Michelangelo Antonioni, Federico Fellini, or Oshima Nagisa. On the other hand, as I began to watch 'Fists in the pocket' ('I pugni in tasca'), it readily felt distinctly familiar.
How is this 1965 release familiar? Firstly, there is a great deal to appreciate in these 110 minutes, for it is ably crafted and ably demonstrates the skills of those involved. The cast give striking, spirited performances, and I'd love to see them all in other movies; though Lou Castel takes center stage as troubled Alessandro, Paola Pitagora's playfulness as Giulia is also a delight. This is beautifully shot, a tremendous credit to both director Bellocchio and cinematographer Alberto Marrama; from shot composition, to camerawork, to the fundamental orchestration of scenes, it's all very easy on the eyes, and maybe even more so in black and white. That's even more true given the lovely filming locations, excellent production design and art direction, and sharp costume design, hair, and makeup. And with master composer Ennio Morricone providing the score, what can one possibly say of the music except that it's superb, and a fine, dynamic, flavorful complement for the proceedings?
How else is this 1965 release familiar? Well, the thing is: secondly, I really don't know what it is that I'm supposed to be taking away from it. There are some darkly wry and satirical airs about the feature, and even with these on hand it has all the makings of a dour and ultimately disturbing drama. Given the illnesses with which the chief characters struggle, and the major, multifaceted dysfunction of the family unit, one might suppose that there was commentary in Bellocchio's mind. For my part, however, I watch 'Fists in the pocket' and it just doesn't make any particular impression. I came, I saw, so what? I don't know what it was that Bellochio was doing here, nor what it is that I, as a viewer, am intended to get from it.
What more is there to say? I don't dislike this flick, and truthfully, I want to like it more than I do. I'm glad for those who get more out of it than I do. I glimpse what others have written about the film and it sounds like a more actively interesting, grabbing film than the one I watched. It does slowly gel more as the minutes tick by; at the same time, it feels overly long, sometimes droning on in a fashion that diminished my engagement. I guess I'm just not on the same wavelength as Bellocchio and other moviegoers - it wouldn't be the first time. By all means, check this out, and may you find it a more rewarding viewing experience than I did. It's just that as far as I'm concerned 'Fists in the pocket' isn't anything to specifically get excited about, and I don't know how I could offer any especial recommendation.
Wicked, Wicked (1973)
Unexpectedly clever and creative, helping it to stand out from countless genre kin
For sure, the idea of "Duo-Vision" sounds like a cheap novelty. I can't argue with filmmaker Richard L. Bare's according inspiration, however, and whether or not the split screen presentation is merely a gimmick or is whipped into something meaningful depends entirely on how it is employed. Case in point, I believe that Gaspar Noé's 2021 feature 'Vortex' is the masterpiece we'd been waiting for him to make, and his use there of a split screen is ingenious and impactful. Bare doesn't wait to start taking advantage of a concept that was, accordingly, achingly laborious to write, to film, and especially to edit - and I must say, I think he did a terrific job of it. One could possibly argue that the particular execution is about flavor more than substance in this instance, accentuated by the occasional use of a single frame, but nevertheless Bare was quite shrewd about shaping his screenplay so that both halves of the screen would show us disparate concurrent scenes that significantly advanced the story or which at least added to the viewing experience. With the audio likewise split between speakers, regardless of the overall quality the result simply of the fundamental concept of 'Wicked, wicked' is an unexpected delight, and I can't help but be pleased.
Thankfully, that's not all. The split screen allows for both active plot, and flashbacks, tidbits of humor, or additional character or otherwise information, to greet our eyes all at once. We can follow two characters at once, or see the truth behind a lie that a character is telling. I believe Bare's writing to be smart and thoughtful, ably fleshing out all odds and ends of his script, and importantly, his direction is no less so. It could be easy for a viewer to be overwhelmed trying to track two frames at once, but Bare's direction and John F. Schreyer's editing keep the proceedings full but smooth and digestible as the filmmakers attentively manage what is most critical for us to engage with at any point. In one example, characters are engaged in a conversation in one frame, and as we listen to that, in the other we simultaneously watch what another figure is doing; elsewhere, we might see both participants on a phone call, or see two perspectives of the same scene. Granted, the plot isn't anything terribly special as a killer stalks guests in a hotel, and maybe the storytelling could have been tightened. Yet I think the details of the narrative and of each scene in turn make all the difference. Factor in the cleverness of how the title presents, and this is a blast in no time.
Beyond all this there's much to admire in 'Wicked, wicked,' and foremost among those other elements is the music. Given Philip Springer's most well-known credit it's interesting to find him composing for something like this, but I'm not about to complain. The frequent organ themes are possibly a smidgen over the top, sure, but they are a real treasure all the same, and are just as dynamic and richly delicious as that split screen presentation. Other parts of Springer's score are also splendid, mind you, including some phrases borrowed from classical symphonies or orchestral pieces; meanwhile, the tunes that co-star Tiffany Bolling sings in-character are a lovely treat. This is to say nothing of excellent filming locations, pleasing production design and art direction, and fetching costume design, hair, and makeup. In addition to otherwise solidly demonstrating their skills, editor Schreyer and cinematographer Frederick Gately get to play around a bit in much the same fashion Bare does as writer, director, and producer, and beyond the upfront split screen the movie toys tastefully in some ways with the imagery to greet us. Among all else, everyone who contributed to the sound here also deserve a lot of respect for the final form this took.
One might suppose that if not for Duo-Vision then no one would bat an eye at this flick, and that's not necessarily entirely wrong given the familiar tale at hand. Quite earnestly, though, it's very capably made in every respect, and in ways that really help the whole to stand out where many of its horror-thriller brethren do not. I really like the cast, too, including not just Bolling but Randolph Roberts, David Bailey, and Jack Knight, and the stunts and effects are swell. With no small amount of cheek to go along with the root story and darker vibes, and even despite some unfortunate self-indulgence to come around, all told I'm so very happy with just how fun the picture is, and much more than I'd have guessed sights unseen. I'm not saying that it altogether demands viewership, but I dare say Bare shows some considerable brilliance, and it holds up well all these years later. In all honesty I kind of love 'Wicked, wicked,' and as far as I'm concerned anyone who appreciates the space this plays in will have just as much of a good time. Don't necessarily go out of your way for it, but also don't let outside perspective turn you away, for I'm glad to give 'Wicked, wicked' my hearty recommendation, and in my mind it deserves more recognition and visibility.
Chisum (1970)
Fine craftsmanship and a firm root story are somewhat muddled by other meaningful considerations
I'll be perfectly honest, I sat with expectations that were mixed to low, and for very specific reasons. Even if we generously set aside the terrible, sometimes confused politics and overcooked, toxic masculinity of the star, and even if we generously set aside the terribly regressive and outdated values that are commonly represented in western features, there's no getting around the fact that John Wayne was an astoundingly awful, stone-faced, wooden actor. The interesting story of how his career began far outshines the meager skills he possessed, and when, every now and again, I magnanimously decide to watch something in which he starred, I'm ever flummoxed by how anyone has ever given him one word of praise. So imagine my surprise when I pressed "play" and my initial reaction was hearty laughter: despite myself I guess the name Chisum brings out my inner twelve-year old (I thought she was dead), and the song to greet us over the opening credits is so overwrought that it sounds like something that may have been penned for a Christopher Guest mockumentary, or maybe an episode of 'Tiny Toons.' For the record, this won't be the last time the music makes such an impression; just wait for the ode to Sallie.
And then the film truly begins, and we see Chisum take issue with a man of big money who starts buying up property, but think nothing of himself claiming land was violently usurped by white settlers. We see Chisum take kindly to even outlaws, provided they respect him, but heaven forbid there's any disagreement. We see Chisum claim to admire the beauty of the land, and even a former enemy, and seemingly have some strong ideas about morals; at the same time, he's part and parcel of the settler mentality and growth that decimates that land, and which created that enemy, and his morals are inconsistent. I gather that former U. S. President Nixon was a fan of this flick, and in no time we see the real reason why: even the "good guy" is a waffling hypocrite, and we as viewers are supposed to see his views as upstanding and correct just because he holds them. Granted, in the active story protagonist Chisum is indeed on the side of ethics and justice, and 'Chisum' The Picture otherwise adopts such a stance, yet it is not uncommonly with regards to issues where Nixon and his fellow party members made a show of being on the side of ordinary people while in fact siding with the wealthy, powerful, and corrupt - just like Wayne, and just like many of those who see him as a magnificent model of marvelous manliness.
This being a western, filmed in glorious Technicolor no less (oh, how I miss the film processing techniques of the 50s, 60s, and 70s), we're treated to all the splendor of contemporary genre fare. The filming locations are gorgeous, and the production design and art direction are rich with stupendous detail. The costume design, hair, and makeup are just as attentively considered, making for a sight for sore eyes, and William H. Clothier's cinematography provides crisp, vivid, bountiful eyefuls of all these visions. The most earnest music herein, in Dominic Frontiere's score, is very good as it complements the proceedings. Broadly speaking the cast give capable performances (though one death scene raises a quizzical eyebrow), and we can at least say that this isn't the worst acting Wayne has ever turned in. (More cynically, I'm inclined to think that latter perception is owed to the greater amount of screen time given to his co-stars, who elevate Wayne along with them.) I dare say Andrew V. McLaglen's direction is sturdy. And in general - in theory - producer Andrew J. Fenady, adapting his own short story, gives us a solid, appreciable tale of determined, virtuous (or at least righteous) individuals standing against villainy in the Old West that set common folk against those with the means and lack of scruples to do as they please.
Indeed, in its core substance 'Chisum' boasts themes and ideas that resonate all too infuriatingly much in the real world of fifty years later, not least as the wealthy, powerful, and iniquitous bend the ear of those with authority; use their clout to lie through their teeth, make those lies to take root, and effectively place themselves in positions of authority in turn; and apply or assent to the law unevenly, and only as it benefits them personally. It's just that these themes and ideas would be more meaningful in these two hours if the titular figure, and the culture of which he is part, weren't steeped in the sordid, genocidal history that saw white settlers claim land that wasn't theirs to take, and strip that land of its resources until only death remained. Those themes and ideas would be more meaningful if the screenplay weren't so intermittently heavy-handed about select figures' religiosity, as if the Bible weren't routinely the refuge of the scoundrel, and itself the source of much harm and destruction. And if we very kindly look past those troubled details which cloud the core substance, it's hard to ignore that the key notions on hand - ones of honor, integrity, and justice, further including the elevation of thugs to law enforcement, and the framing of innocent people by "the law" - are completely lost on those who would seem to hold Wayne in the highest esteem, and some of whom would seem to similarly favor this title so much. It's the equivalent of, for example, Jeff Bezos saying 'Sorry to bother you' is his favorite film.
The stunts, practical effects, and action scenes we see throughout are fantastic, certainly not least at the climax. Though I don't necessarily think it's by any power of his own, I readily acknowledge that Wayne, as an actor, outwardly comes off better here than he has elsewhere among those of his works I've seen (although, that's not saying much, either). I think the plot could have been tightened and more focused even as it is - for example, there's not actually any narrative reason for White Buffalo to be depicted at all, and the writing isn't always perfectly lucid as to some characters and the threads connecting them - but the primary essence of Fenady's saga is ripe for the telling. Despite all my criticism and wry observations, and the initial reaction I couldn't suppress, I actually do like 'Chisum,' and it holds up better than no few other westerns. Maybe that value makes it all the more important to note how the sincere content is muddled, and how the place that the movie, its themes and ideas, and its stars hold in our culture is incredibly jumbled. It's safe to say that I don't think the sum total demands viewership, and one should take it with a lot more than that proverbial grain of salt. Still, if you're looking for something good to watch, and maybe even more so if you're the sort of person that likes to critically analyze all facets of what they watch, 'Chisum' is fairly worthwhile (with caveats) if you have the chance to check it out.
Bonnie's Kids (1972)
Terrific potential struggles with unrefined execution
This movie is really good at accentuating how pretty its women are, and how sleazy its men are, and at that mostly outright predatory. To emphasize how good it is at these things, it gives us fairly regular shots of women topless, with additional shots of women in scant clothing, and even fifteen-year old star Robin Mattson is not excluded. To much the same point, even men's own family members are not safe from their predation, and any cops we see in passing are just as rotten. My, my, if all such sleaze were piled any higher then this would be a film about conservative politicians! Somewhere amidst all the dubiousness - further including some deviousness from the female characters, and pointedly, cheekily counterbalanced with very bouncy music - there is a plot about sisters Ellie and Myra looking out for each other, and eventually some shenanigans about dirty money. I say "eventually" because in a runtime of a little over 100 minutes, we're basically halfway through before that plot more or less begins to take shape, and longer still before that plot begins to truly progress. Up to that point, and still more past it, 'Bonnie's kids' is more of a loose assemblage of characters toying with each other in one way or another.
Look, now Ellie and Larry are dancing and giving each other eyes! Well, isn't that just so sweet. Will this turn out to be more important than it's made out to be in the moment? You bet! Conversely, Myra just disappears from our screens for a surprisingly long time.
The premise sounded interesting. I won't argue with filmmaker Arthur Marks, the women are indeed beautiful. The music is catchy and enjoyable, whatever the precise mood it's embracing. The cast give committed, commendable performances, with Mattson and even more so Tiffany Bolling surely standing out most as Myra and Ellie. This is well made in most every regard, including the editing and cinematography, the costume design, the hair and makeup, and so on. I like the narrative in and of itself, and the scene writing is fairly strong. I do like the ideas on hand, including the characterizations, and in fact the material is primed for a rather dark, absorbing, stimulating neo-noir thriller. I think the whole would be far more solid if Marks weren't so lackadaisical about developing that narrative, and if he didn't shove most of the substance into the relatively small corner of the last two-fifths. Very much accentuating the point: just as the overall sleaze is most predominant in the first forty-five to sixty minutes, and the unhurried storytelling, as the plot truly kicks off in the latter half, Marks left himself so much to do and show in such comparatively little time that the pacing seems rushed, failing to give scenes, beats, and ideas all due time to resonate. Oops.
On another note, we can perhaps accept the misogyny, otherwise touches of sexism, and a racial slur as being part and parcel of the saga, and the figures it presents to us. A homophobic exchange of dialogue, however, is plainly unnecessary and earns a demerit.
Anyway, yes, the pacing shifts from "la, la-laa, la-laa" to "go, go, go," and similarly, the tone shifts from "do, dee-do, dee-do" to "oh man, it's going down, now." I'll grant that this tends to be the narrative structure in most any work of fiction, but the shifts here are glaringly unnatural, not to mention forced and brusque owing to Marks' direction. Carson Whitsett's music similarly becomes more intense and grabbing, and it's superb in and of itself - but again the disparity is noteworthy in an unfortunate manner. The first long stretch that traipses along needed to be tightened; the back end needed more room to breathe as the seediness explodes into jarring violence with a swift gait. With all this firmly in mind, I still believe the picture is enjoyable and worthwhile, and it's better than not. Really, at its core this is flush with potential that should have let it stand tall beside its genre brethren. It's just regrettable, therefore, that the faults stand out so vividly, almost threatening to outshine the value 'Bonnie's kids' boasts. By all means, check this out if you have the chance to watch, for it earns a fair recommendation, and may you like it more than I did. Why, I myself want to like it more than I do. Would that the two unequal halves had been treated more carefully.
Kaijûtô no kessen: Gojira no musuko (1967)
It is certainly A Time
Well. Of those entries I've seen to date, it's not the worst of the series. It's better than 'Godzilla vs. Hedorah,' 'Godzilla vs. SpaceGodzilla,' and arguably 'All monsters attack.' That doesn't get us very far, however. There are two Godzilla suits in this flick, and while one is passable if we're being generous, the other (the wet suit) looks awful. Minilla is altogether hideous - I can't believe anyone thought he was "cute" - and while the suit we see a bit later in the length looks better than the rendition we first see, that's not saying much. Composer extraordinaire Sato Masaru, who provided many scores for Kurosawa Akira, one of the greatest filmmakers in the world, offers original music that is decent, but which in no small part feels out of place, and more appropriate for a live-action, family-friendly Disney adventure of the same era. Whether the trouble lies with director Fukuda Jun, screenwriters Sekizawa Shinichi or Shiba Kazue, or editor Fujii Ryohei I don't know, but there are small moments where the storytelling suddenly leaps from A to D, skipping entirely over B and C, and we just have to take the experience at face value. There comes a point where it all begins to feel like a slog, and even at only eighty-six minutes, that doesn't bode well for 'Son of Godzilla.'
As styrofoam and paraffin blanket the set in the last stretch I couldn't help but think of Kobayashi Masaki's 'The human condition,' except where those ten hours passed smoothly and surprisingly quickly, this kaiju romp that's six times shorter somehow feels equally long. And it's too bad, in my opinion, that this 1967 release doesn't end the same way Kobayashi's masterpiece did. Don't get me wrong, broadly speaking it's well made. Arikawa Sadamasa's effects look pretty darn good, from the mantises, spider, models, and miniatures to fire, explosions, general destruction, and even the atomic breath added in post-production. The sets are gorgeous and flush with detail; the costume design is swell, and the hair and makeup are fetching. Even kindly setting aside the very existence of Minilla there are parts of the writing I take issue with, such as the introduction into the tale of the reporter, the contrived friendship between Goro and Saeko, and various scenes, but the story as a whole is alright. I take no issue with the acting, or Fukuda's direction overall. We get a kaiju fight, and whether because they were intended or because we laugh in mockery and disbelief, there are tidbits of humor that help to make this a slightly better film than I expected.
Yet I'm inclined to believe the picture starts to lose steam after the mantises are no longer the focus. No matter how much one earnestly appreciates 'Son of Godzilla,' its strength is at best highly variable; to the extent that it's entertaining, half the fun comes from the sheer bewilderment of "who thought this was a good idea?" Strictly speaking I don't regret watching, but I'm someone who will watch almost anything, and I've said the same thing about 'Ishtar,' 'Cats,' and yes, even 'Godzilla vs. Hedorah.' The best value that the title has to offer is value that we can get elsewhere in the franchise, and that which is unique here is quite the mixed bag. That doesn't mean you shouldn't watch it. That does mean you should heavily temper your expectations, and maybe move it to the front of the line so you can save better Godzilla features for later. It's not that 'Son of Godzilla' doesn't offer a good time, and I will admit I'm maybe being too harsh - it's that the good times are paired with a lot of time spent holding our head in our hands and wondering what has brought us to this point in our lives. So long as that's something you can get on board with, check it out by all means, but just be very well aware of what you're getting into, and definitely don't get your hopes up.
The Demon Within (2009)
Painfully weak and limp, and before all is said and done, even incohesive and sloppy
I've watched more than enough of a variety of horror to reasonably harbor significant doubts about this before sitting for it. While with earnest care and hard work even amateur horror can far outshine major studio productions, the unfortunate truth is that in the Age of the Internet anyone can make anything and have it distributed for an audience. And "anything" too often means fare that sorely lacks the requisite care and hard work; alternatively, contributors' skills may be sufficiently undeveloped that all the sincere passion in the world can't help a movie stand firm. The least that can be said about this 2009 English-American co-production is that its prospects aren't that low, and I believe I do recognize the earnest effort that those involved are applying. Regrettably, however, this doesn't get us very far, and '666: A demon within' fails to pass muster. To be perfectly frank, this is one movie you can do without.
The chief trouble is that writer and director Harold Gasnier direly lacks the finessed, nuanced hand that the feature requires. The story is ostensibly one of seduction and temptation as newlywed Debbie (Sophie Austin) is drawn into embracing evil - a premise that has been the backbone of countless classics (some great, and some not so great), and some modern successors. As part and parcel of that core one rightly anticipates seedy yet rich atmosphere that vividly realizes the proverbial siren's call, the inner struggle, and ultimately the protagonist's descent into wickedness and newfound power. Sadly, that's not what we get in these 100 minutes. On paper and in execution Gasnier is tiresomely heavy-handed and blunt, and without the subtlety and delicate touch necessary to bring the intended dark airs to bear, the picture is simply limp, flat, thin, passive, and disinterested. Not one feeling that the tale should invite is present in the slightest: no excitement, no titillation, no revulsion, no thrills. Scenes may as well have been drawn on cardboard with stick figures.
The dialogue is bad (a generous descriptor), the scene writing doesn't remotely meet its potential, and perish the thought of becoming invested in characters. There's not the slightest chance of finding the narrative compelling; case in point, an expected climactic moment falls within the first third, curiously, and lands with all the impact of a feather on a bed of straw. Much to follow fares worse, including incohesive sloppiness in the last stretch, and the cast are certainly affected in turn. I'm inclined to think that, given the chance, the actors would ably demonstrate their abilities. Here, however, their performances are achingly bereft of the vitality that would unlock the film's potency, and if we're lucky we might get a few scattered moments that approximate what we want. This is to say nothing of music that is hopelessly bland and artificial, and just as unlikely as the acting to come close to anything meaningful. We get some relatively smart use of lighting, yet the fundamental image quality is so bare-faced and sterile as to further stifle whatever ambience the title may have hoped to claim.
I recognize what this could have been. There are good ideas here. With fleeting, rare exceptions those good ideas are not treated well, and many scenes - like that surrounding the one-hour mark, and the one to follow, and still others - flounder so awfully that one can only cringe, sigh, and ask, uselessly, "are you kidding me?" Part of me feels bad in being so negative and critical, because again, I do think Gasnier, his cast, and his crew were making an honest go of film-making. Nonetheless, countless past examples exist from which the man could have sought inspiration, and '666: A demon within' falls woefully short of them all. Even if we try to set aside all our past knowledge and experience with the medium, the movie is far too glaringly weak to find any success, and the miniscule value it has to offer can be found more easily elsewhere without also suffering through the worst aspects.
Whatever it is you think you're going to get out of this flick, you're mistaken. I guess I'm glad for anyone who does enjoy it; I can only hope that some day I might see something else these folks have made, and be impressed. '666: A demon within,' however, just doesn't cut it, and I can't fathom ever recommending it. And even that is probably being too kind.
Honeymoon in Vegas (1992)
Enjoyable, but all too sadly uneven
Oh, I don't know. I mean, I get it, casinos and gambling houses, and all those who prop them up, are sickeningly manipulative and predatory. The proliferation in recent years of sports betting, the endless advertising for such apps, and the vast losses that people (mostly men) have suffered on account of them are evidence enough of that. Even so, as someone who has never remotely dallied with such things, I find it hard to swallow the pivotal early scene in which protagonist Jack loses in a big way to wealthy Tommy, digging himself an enormous hole before the cards are even revealed. Is that, uh, really how it goes? I also understand that this probably seems like a tangent, so allow me to dovetail into a more immediately relevant point: all the best scenes in this movie are those between Nicolas Cage, playing Jake, and Sarah Jessica Parker, playing Betsy. Close behind are scenes of Jake or Betsy by themselves, in which the other is distinctly referenced (directly or indirectly). Wherever filmmaker Andrew Bergman focuses strictly on Tommy, or Betsy and Tommy, or Jake alone, 'Honeymoon in Vegas' is more variable and doesn't necessarily make much of an impression.
Don't get me wrong, I like the cast, filled as it is with many recognizable names and faces. The actors give solid performances, including not just Cage and Parker but also James Caan, and Pat Morita, among others. The filming locations are a sight for sore eyes, above all Hawaii, and I appreciate the production design, costume design, and hair and makeup. There are swell story ideas, the scene writing is pretty terrific, and the characters hardly any less so. This really does earn some laughs - a few right away, at that - and some scenes are especially sharp. The trouble is that somewhere between the details of the screenplay and the execution under Bergman's guidance, the tone tends to be a little soft, and the appropriate energy to keep the proceedings fresh and vibrant just isn't there. The dynamics of the relationship between Jake and Betsy are the driving force here, echoed in the on-screen chemistry of Cage and Parker, and while there are additional highlights all throughout, they are scattered and irregular. Morita is a delight; where Cage gets to fly off the handle in the way we expect of him, it's fantastic; and so on. Would that the picture kept more of that vitality alive throughout the whole length.
The unfortunate result is that while this is enjoyable, ninety-six minutes pass rather blithely and somewhat unremarkably. It's something we can watch without actively engaging, and it neither requires nor inspires such engagement. Many facets are admirable, and I did have a good time, but passively so. I'll even allow that the last fifteen minutes or so comprise what is likely the strongest and most consistent portion of the feature, making for a satisfying finish. But is that enough? I suppose it depends on what one is looking for. If your main interest is simply one of the stars, or someone else involved, you're apt to be duly entertained. If you're looking for something relatively light but fun, you're in luck. If you want to have a total blast and laugh your proverbial socks off from start to finish, and fully anticipate to - well, maybe you're better off looking elsewhere. I like 'Honeymoon in Vegas,' but it's too middling for me to love it, and any recommendation it might earn is only a casual one.
Hot Rods to Hell (1966)
It has definite faults, but overall it's very good and a pleasant surprise
The 50s enjoyed a glut of flicks about hot rods, drag racing, and all such contemporary teen subcultures. Some of those flicks were surprisingly good. Why shouldn't the 60s also have their fair share? Well, 'Hot rods to hell' is definitely far removed from a lot of its predecessors, and not only because it takes a substantially more serious and darker approach to the subject matter. Even within only the first few minutes we get a bit of whiplash as the tone swerves, and what's strange is that as the plot develops that rocky to and fro rather continues. Some of that tonal disparity comes from the original music of Fred Karger and Ben Weisman, often so bouncy and high-spirited that it might feel more at home in either one of AIP's contemporary beach party movies, a psychedelic go-go bonanza, or a tongue-in-cheek 70s action romp. Still more of that tonal disparity has to do with how teens Duke, Ernie, Gloria, and their friends are written, for these ghouls are so terribly foul and vicious, and outright predatory, that they'd undeniably be better suited for a grindhouse horror-thriller. In glaring contrast, the Phillips family and other supporting characters are written in a fashion more closely resembling sitcoms or family-friendly holiday pieces, with the music to match, deviating only as the most urgent scenes require.
This film is actually well made, and it is low-key thrilling, and enjoyable. The motel and bar Arena has a delightful, somewhat seedy vibe preceding the Patrick Swayze classic 'Road House,' and even outside of that context I really do like the catchy music in and of itself. The cast give meaningfully vibrant performances; George Ives is splendidly cheerful and dubious as Dailey; Dana Andrews ably captures the difficult nervousness and severity of father Tom, somewhat recalling George C. Scott. Jeanne Crain is limited in her portrayal of mother Peg by the material, but I see the nuance and emotions of her acting, and also Laurie Mock as Tina. Paul Bertoya, Gene Kirkwood, and Mimsy Farmer fully embrace the cold cruelty of Duke, Ernie, and Gloria, and I can't help but be impressed. Tone aside, John Brahm's direction is tight and striking, and with some exceptions, so is Alex Gaby and Robert E. Kent's script - offering an unexpectedly gripping, compelling plot, vivid scene writing, and some (key word) commendable characterizations. Moreover, the stunts and effects are plainly fantastic, and this unmistakably benefits from great filming locations, fetching costume design, hair, and makeup, and solid production design and art direction. Even Lloyd Ahern's cinematography is crisp and warm, and demonstrates a keen eye.
Yes, it's well made, thrilling, and enjoyable, in one measure or another. I think it would be more so if it didn't shift so hard between moods, from "hey hey, let the good times roll" to "by Jove, these kids are monstrous sociopaths," a dichotomous spectrum that's somewhat difficult to digest. It would be more enjoyable if Tina weren't written so questionably, at once fearful, disdainful, outrageously impressionable, and hot to trot, becoming a singularly noteworthy weak spot in these 100-odd minutes. To much the same point, the B-plot of Tina's growing pains feels as if it's shoehorned in, trying to add another dimension to the picture that it didn't really need, and try as Gaby and Kent might, they have a hard time weaving in the angle of father Tom's psychological troubles. More cynically, while there's something to be said for effectively turning a public service announcement about safe driving into a full-length drama that borders on a thriller (and horror), someone seems awfully high on their own supply in positing through the unnamed police officer that law enforcement are safe, reliable, just arbiters of legality and public safety. We know that couldn't be any further from the truth. There's a lot to like here, but it has issues, and tone is only first and foremost.
Still, I sat to watch with mixed expectations, and well and truly, the feature is better than I supposed sights unseen. Had Brahm or producer Sam Katzman been so inclined this absolutely and very easily could have been even more harsh and violent, yet even with the flaws it faces, both on paper and in execution the sum total is gratifyingly tight and focused, fiercely absorbing, and roundly satisfying. In fact, all told it's so good that I'm surprised it's not more well known, and it was pretty much only by chance that I came across it. I wouldn't go so far as to say it demands viewership, and one should be aware that it's less than perfect, but it's quite excellent when all is said and done. If you have the chance to check out 'Hot rods to hell,' I'm happy to give it a concrete recommendation.
Hot Rod Rumble (1957)
Unexpectedly sharp and satisfying, a hearty, earnest drama (even with imperfections)
There are two points of interest to consider before even watching. One is that filmmaker Leslie H. Martinson is the same man who would nine years later go on to direct the classic, celebrated 'Batman' movie with Adam West. The other is that among all the flicks made in the 50s about the hot topics of hot rods, drag racing, and contemporary teen culture, some were better and smarter than others - in my opinion including 1956's 'Hot rod girl,' which Martinson also directed. Given that this decade of cinema isn't broadly known for high quality I sat to watch with mixed expectations, but still, I had fair hopes for 'Hot rod rumble.'
The first impression this title makes isn't entirely solid, faltering in one specific way. Maybe it can be chalked up to what was accordingly a low budget, in turn limiting the resources Martinson had to work with, the schedule he had to operate in, and the creative freedom he had to shape the feature. Even setting aside grainy image and audio quality, though - traits which could, in fairness, be attributed to poor transfer or a bad copy - the execution is slightly troubled. The opening scene feels busy, overfull, and harried, lacking the fully measured discretion that would have allowed the substance to shine most vibrantly. This is a criticism that could be applied to a touch too much of what follows, even in instances that are otherwise quieter and populated by fewer characters, as it comes across that the proceedings are often just a hair too forced.
That's unfortunate, because with just a smidgen more deliberate care, allowing this to be realized with all due weight, it would stand taller still. And it does, in fact, otherwise stand wonderfully tall. Meyer Dolinsky whipped up an unexpectedly sharp, surprisingly ugly, and impactful script that gives treatment to not just hot rods and drag racing, but even more so to the broader trouble and criminality that were given stereotypical association with the subculture. From that foundation is woven an earnest drama that borders on a crime thriller as personalities clash and tempers boil over in the Road Devils club, resulting in hot-headed Arnie being wrongfully maligned and accused of another member's death. Meaningful themes and ideas are broached as the innocent kid is persecuted by so-called friends, the law, his employer, and even his parents - all presuming guilt without for one moment hearing him out. What subsequently manifests is exposure of the supposedly more "level-headed" club members, and especially the wider culture, being filled with the same nasty attitudes and outright cruelty that were projected onto Arnie, specifically, and in real life, the minority community. And I do mean minority: in its own way, this picture speaks to the horrid treatment that marginalized communities deal with every day just for existing, ever the scapegoat for whatever ills and perceived wrongs a society endures.
'Hot rod rumble' is actually rather straightforward in its narrative and plot development, and the strength lies not in the secrets that it doesn't keep as the plot unfolds but in the details of how the material is realized. Strong scene writing treads thoughtfully along a gloomy path, compounding Arnie's misfortune and ever aligning more people against him. At no few points this boasts considerable tension just waiting to explode, but that release of pressure is denied except through select delicious fragments of dialogue and the resolution that comes in the end. To that end, while we're at it, I do feel that the biggest flaw of the film is the conclusion in the last moments: it seems to me that the screenplay edges over so closely to a final finish that would have been tremendously dramatic and effective, if also dourly somber, but steps away at the last moment, as if a producer decided it would be too dark and emphatic for audiences to digest. Even at that this is gratifyingly shrewd through to the credits, and Dolinsky shoulders much of the responsibility for how good it turned out to be.
This is to say nothing of Alexander Courage's original music, adding to the moody assemblage with some phrases that are particularly striking. Though rough around the edges, by and large Martinson's direction is excellent overall, sustaining the low buzz of vibrancy even through the relatively bare-faced storytelling, and even through the marginally strained presentation. That oversight extends to Lester Shorr's cinematography - and not least to the acting. The cast give vivid performances ably matching the harsh currents that course through these eighty minutes, and this praise is above all directed toward Richard Hartunian. I'm given to understand that this was his only film role, and one of only a handful of acting roles at large, and that's regrettable, for in his performance as protagonist Arnie I recognize range, physicality, and emotional depth that would have surely made him a star had his career significantly progressed. Only a bit behind Dolinsky's writing, I'm inclined to say Hartunian is a key highlight in this flick; though we are robbed of seeing him grow as an actor, we can at least be thankful that this noteworthy outing was such a fine credit.
Rest assured that this is well made in other regards, including swell stunts, nice production design, fetching costume design, and so on. But the lasting value is as plain as day, and there is much more than I would have guessed sights unseen, or based on that first impression. Yes, it's too bad that the execution is imperfect, and it's too bad that the ending kind of pulls its punch. Nevertheless, I'm all so pleased with how fantastic 'Hot rod rumble' is when all is said and done; not only is it easily one of the better movies of the 50s (heralded cultural exemplars notwithstanding), but even stood next to Martinson's aforementioned 'Hot rod girl' I believe it to be better still. I'd stop short of saying it's a must-see, but if you're receptive to older fare and looking for something enjoyable and satisfying, for my part I'm happy to give this my hearty recommendation!
Hot Rod Horror (2008)
Earnest effort and slight, scattered value only get us so far
I certainly didn't have high expectations. The premise couldn't be more familiar, and in actuality the picture is even more common and ordinary. More substantively, second- or third-tier, small-time horror is all too rarely any good. In the age of the Internet, when anyone can make anything and have it distributed for an audience, there is far too much muck out there and a dearth of earnest, quality film-making. That's not to say that there aren't exceptions; I've seen no-budget amateur horror that with care and hard work far outpaced major studio offerings. One must allow for the possibility that, given the opportunity, any Nobody making an unheard-of flick might surprise us. Thus did I sit for 'Hot rod horror' prepared for the worst but hoping for the best. Unfortunately, this is the sort of title to inspire profound skepticism right from the start, and not only does it not improve, but if anything it gets worse as the minutes tick by.
I'm not inclined to doubt the sincerity of anyone involved. I think they applied what effort they could with the capabilities they possessed. The skills of the contributors are another matter, however, and the glaring lack of resources only exacerbates the issue, shining a spotlight on what those involved could not do. Darrell Mapson's direction is achingly limp and weak, coming off as agonizingly false and artificial; the tone is at best flat and unbothered, and the fundamental orchestration of shots and scenes is deeply troubled, with dubious timing and otherwise consideration even for things like sound effects, reactions, and basic movement. I recognize that the cast, including star Alexandra Gorman, are really trying to give as meaningful of performances as they can, but the most that could be said is that the acting is highly variable. More than not it's direly unconvincing, and amidst hopelessly dull, even-keeled delivery we even get some flubbed lines that weren't corrected in another take.
In a spirit of generosity we might at least say that there were some fair ideas in the story or scene writing, but under Mapson's guidance they amount to nothing. Just as much to the point, the pen of Willy Ortlieb, also starring as apparent boogeyman Axel, is representative of skills that are equally, sorrily undeveloped. The plot is desperately thin and barely holds any water; forget "thrills" altogether. Not least with a lengthy "flashback" scene to provide "lore," the development of that plot raises a quizzical eyebrow. The dialogue is roundly awful, and even if there are indeed scattered fair ideas, the scene writing is not truly any better when you get down to it, with too many moments almost inciting one to anger for how flimsy they are (e.g., an unprovoked attack on a scrapped car, or another brief flashback late in the length). The image quality is so bare-faced as to almost be painful on the eyes; Mapson's cinematography exists on about the same level as his direction, and the editing is generally just tiresome.
Is there any unmitigated point of positivity to find in this film? The production has the benefit of a swell filming location, ripe with possibility, in the centerpiece junkyard. While the original music here is bland and generic, Kurt Oldman, Paul Vawter, and William Verkler were at least aiming for the right vibes, and some select examples are pretty decent, including a title song that meekly mimics AC/DC. Tiny tidbits here and there are more clever and/or well done than some others, including a couple death scenes, minor stunts or special makeup, or even an odd shot or two. And look, I'll say it: I feel bad being so negative. I think Mapson, Ortlieb, and all others on hand were just trying to make a movie, and were simply unable to do so in a manner that meets any particular standards. I believe they gave 'Hot rod horror' an honest go, and I hope that all went on to grow in their skills; maybe some day I'll see something else they made and be impressed. Still, none of this changes the fact that the end result tends to be a labor to sit through. The feature needed far more time to incubate, with in the very extreme least a director of more experience, to have any real chance at succeeding. And that's just not what we get.
There are far worse things you could watch. I've seen the bottom of the barrel, and for as gravely unsatisfactory as this is, all the same it's nowhere near being a nadir. I see what they tried to do. Be that as it may, there is not remotely enough value in these eighty-eight minutes to merit a watch, and one is best served by just never bothering. Well and truly, I extend only my best wishes for the writer, the director, and the cast and crew, and part of me wants to like this more than I do. One way or another, though, 'Hot rod horror' just doesn't cut it.
Hot Rod Girl (1956)
Fairly strong and earnest, a slightly better film among countless contemporaries
Though there are plentiful exceptions, one doesn't generally expect much of cinema of the 50s. The faintest whiff of discrete genre predilections in any premise is routinely enough to accurately signal that one is looking at a title that will be cheaply produced, with lots of kitsch to go around, and with any more serious or darker elements notably diminished if not altogether sterilized. Heck, American International Pictures was prone to infusing some gay tidbits that would be rife in the frivolous "beach party" movies of the 60s. All that's to say nothing of the pale skin tone of every single person involved, with none but token diversity to be found (if any) amongst proliferate alabaster white. None of this is to say that such fare can't be enjoyable or worthwhile on their own merits, in some measure, but if you're looking for earnest, impactful storytelling and memorable, award-worthy film-making, you probably won't be stopping to give 'Hot rod girl' a second look.
Moreover, in 2024 the hot rods and drag racing of the 50s is about as alien as the flappers and hip lingo of the Roaring Twenties. Nevertheless, not giving 'Hot rod girl' all due consideration would be a mistake, for I'm taken aback here as meaningful themes and ideas are broached. Look at the small exchange of dialogue in which the hard-boiled police chief complains of all the additional roles he is expected to take on in addition to law enforcement, which as we still infuriatingly know all too well decades later means only that other social services that would make cops' jobs easier are being underfunded. Look at sympathetic Ben Merril, proponent of the sanctioned drag strip that keeps kids and hot rods off the streets where they can get into trouble, and providing a safe, healthy outlet for people to explore consensual recreation and natural impulses. Countless are those flicks across all decades that bemoan "reckless" teen behaviors that serve as a "gateway" to still more dangerous habits, concerned more about some regressive agenda than sincere storytelling or film-making, but in a world full of such propaganda and exploitation, it's gratifying to see a film be a little smarter about approaching such a hot topic.
To that end, I was pleasantly surprised by 1950's 'Hot rod,' which turned such demagoguery on its head to be unexpectedly progressive for the period, and 1958's 'Hot rod gang' treated its youthful lead characters as people with real intelligence and agency. Producer Norman T. Herman, screenwriter John McGreevy, and director Leslie H. Martinson play in tried and true territory with this picture as the plot dabbles with the lines between legal drag strips and the street racing that leads to accidents and outrage, and between young interest in hot rods and broad public skepticism, but I'm glad to say that they, too, are a tad more shrewd than one would suppose about the material. Yes, there is some ham-handedness, and the more dramatic moments aren't necessarily as vibrant as they could be (e.g., a key theme of grief that doesn't bear all due weight). Some instances of acting are more sure-footed than others; female characters are underwritten, if not outright treated chauvinistically. There is also, however, a bright narrative about a strong leader keeping the peace among the teens, and forced to put aside his reclusive grief when an aggressive outsider threatens to turn the town upside-down and usurp him. Even some major modern features can't claim writing that keen, but here we are, in what is ostensibly a teen movie of 1956.
The dialogue is sharp and flavorful, and the character writing is more attentive than I'd have guessed. Nitpick as we may Martinson's direction is honest and mindful, doing his utmost to give care to the solid foundations of the plot rather than to dress it up with the lightheartedness that characterized so many contemporaries. Despite how it initially presents and despite imperfections this is a real drama, and it does its best to keep pace with hardier brethren, including performances that strive to meet the underlying strength and potential (even a fresh-faced Frank Gorshin, best known as The Riddler in the 'Batman' TV series of the 60s. No matter how much we may scrutinize 'Hot rod girl' is fairly well made, including production design, costume design, hair and makeup, and the action sequences. And even as we can plainly recognize mores and norms that are now outdated, still the core lasting value here lies in the writing and direction as McGreevy, Martinson, and producer Herman strive to turn common, conventional, or stereotypical notions into something of greater substance. I'm inclined to think they succeeded.
Even at its best this movie isn't something one needs to go out of their way to see, and I won't begrudge those who check it out and take a harsher view. Yet I deeply appreciate the unusually thoughtful tack this adopts, and it's pretty tight relative to any nearest point of comparison. I see how the whole could have been stronger still, and it's unfortunate that the plot loses some fraction of cogency in the last ten minutes or so - but once again, for a 50s picture about hot rods, I really believe this is a cut above some others. It's no must-see, but if you're receptive to older titles like this then 'Hot rod girl' holds up reasonably well, and I'm pleased to give it a fair recommendation.
Hot Rod Gang (1958)
Mildly but firmly entertaining; a tiny bit sharper than some of its contemporaries
I thought 1950's 'Hot rod' was the most stereotypical 50s film I've ever seen, but golly, this gives its elder a run for its money. We get musical interludes of rock 'n roll and dance amidst a story of hot rod teens in a small town, and the excruciatingly provincial locals who alwas wear their "Sunday best" despair at "sinfulness" that by the standards of any thinking person, let alone decades later, is about as "white bread" and "vanilla" as one could get. There's also ham-handedness out the wazoo, very light humor, and equally light drama, to say nothing of the production values that American International Pictures provides for this 1958 piece. This is the sort of title that one would spotlight to demonstrate to modern schoolkids what cinema looked like seventy years ago.
Yet in its own way, 'Hot rod gang' is a spiritual successor to 'Hot rod' as it surprises a little and differentiates itself somewhat from the preponderance of its contemporaries. On the most superficial level this is mildly enjoyable with a duly engaging story, and the scenario, scene writing, and many jokes are primed for the TV sitcoms of yesteryear. Yet producer and screenwriter Lou Rusoff, and filmmaker Lew Landers, deserve more meaningful credit. The fact is that this flick is delightfully cheeky in its approach to social mores and norms of the 50s, for protagonist John Abernathy III and chief supporting character Lois, like other kids their age, are smarter and more clever than the very stuffy folks of Propriety and Society who surround them. We're treated to some sharp dialogue, swell quips, and marvelously devious characterizations in a multifaceted plot of teens butting heads while trying to save their beloved hangout, all while pulling the wool over the eyes of the proverbial adults. It's not as if the movie is about to turn heads, but some real wit went into it.
Don't get me wrong, the entertainment is relatively simple and soft; emphasizing the point, while I didn't keep track, I think the musical interludes comprise between one-third and one-half of the runtime. Yet the tunes are decidedly catchy, if one appreciates burgeoning contemporary rock 'n roll, and the musical and dance sequences are finely orchestrated. Even Ronald Stein's original score is fun, though comparatively sparing. I can't deny that the cast is a joy. John Ashley and Jody Fair stand out as our chief figures, yes - Ashley especially, given that his role requires a few different personas - but among others Gene Vincent, Helen Spring, and Dorothy Neumann bring splendid energy to the proceedings. Rusoff's writing is genuinely brighter than I'd have ever supposed sights unseen, and Landers matches that excellence note for note. Even the sets, costume design, and hair and makeup look pretty great, and in all honesty the feature holds up very well after all this time.
I'll grant that there are rough spots in the writing. "Hot rods" don't actually come into play very much, for the record, except at the very beginning and the very end; more substantively, the narrative loses some cogency in the last ten to fifteen minutes. In both its writing and direction this could have been tightened, accentuated by how the good-natured duplicity of John and Lois just swerves into outright adult approval later on. Moreover, while I don't think it's specifically the fault of this production, good luck finding a copy with perfect, clear, intact audio and image quality. And still, however much we may scrutinize this and that, overall I dare say 'Hot rod gang' is a rather good time. One can also readily discern how this precedes later AIP works like their many "beach party" flicks. No matter how you slice it there's no need to go out of your way for this, and it definitely won't appeal to all. If you're open to the lighthearted silliness that such fare has to offer, though, I think this is worth checking out on its own merits, and I'm happy to give 'Hot rod gang' my fair recommendation.
Hot Rod (2007)
Fine wit and sheer gusto carry the day amidst a grab bag of comedy
In all honesty, I sat to watch with expectations that were mixed to low. Comedy is especially subject to personal preferences and is very hit or miss, and that may be even more true of more modern fare. To read of the production history here, and to look at all the many recognizable names involved in one capacity or another, is to ride a wave of both hope and fear for what level of quality the result may bear. This is to say, primarily but not exclusively, that deep skepticism in inspired in learning that former 'South Park' associate Pam Brady penned a vehicle conceived for Will Ferrell, whose foremost one-note man-child act is all too tiresome; then again, that the screenplay was accordingly rewritten, uncredited, offers a thread of optimism. How is 'Hot Rod,' actually? How is this Lorne Michaels co-production, spearheaded by The Lonely Island? Could it be clever and worthwhile - uniquely so, ideally - or would it be boorish and unfunny like too many contemporaries?
Between Andy Samberg, Jorma Taccone, Akiva Schaffer, Michaels, and those officially uncredited writers including Seth Meyers, this blends a lot together, a veritable cornucopia rendered as a slurry. There is dead-eyed absurdity, and unblinking parody. There's ironic humor that tries to make the unfunny funny, and irregular doses of surrealism. There's definitely some vexing low-brow humor that tiredly plays with sex, anatomy, or slapstick elements, and there's an intermittent mean streak seen in, for instance, the physical comedy, how supporting characters treat Rod, touches of sexism or homophobia, and so on. All of this is rooted in or aims to twist or revitalize foundations that couldn't be more common: extra nerdy, bumbling losers of main characters, failing to meet toxic, stereotypical standards of masculinity, who hope to win the day; a mix of modern and faux-retro sensibilities; a fascination with the sweet, beautiful Girl Next Door; an abusively masculine stepfather, among other supporting characters; and so on. For good measure add melodramatic mood swings played for laughs, musical selections that are deliberately very on the nose, montages set to the characteristically 80s rock of Europe, and more.
But: does it all work?
Gratifyingly, it mostly does. I must give credit where it's due, and the wit in the picture shines through more than it doesn't. The cast give committed, spirited performances that tend to be altogether outrageous along with whatever scenes require of them, not least as characters' varied personalities mix and match. We're treated to some sharp dialogue and scene writing amidst a panoply of gags, physical comedy and stunts, upended expectations, and that absurdism and surrealism. Between the writing, direction, and acting, those involved demonstrate fairly well that they know when to be brazenly forthright and over the top, and when to dial it back for more subtle inclinations. I'd be plainly lying if I said the sum total didn't earn some laughs, including some examples that caught me off guard. That the feature is otherwise admirably well made is just a terrific bonus: excellent stunts and effects (including cheekily transparent computer-generated imagery), great music (not just the soundtrack, but even Trevor Rabin's score, and an appearance by Queens of the Stone Age doing their best impression of Europe), terrific production design and art direction, fetching costume design, hair, and makeup, splendid cinematography and editing, and still more.
That doesn't mean that I'm about to drop everything in reverence. I can't tell sometimes if 'Hot Rod' is purposefully and shrewdly toying with cinematic tropes and story ideas that have been run into the ground over the past forty-plus years, or if it's leaning so hard into these facets that it becomes what it is parodying. Sometimes it really does take a bit too far, or drag it out too long, including a dramatic fall Rod takes early on, the "cool beans" sequence between Rod and Kevin preceding the third act, or a late, consciously overcooked moment for Will Arnett. Some intended jokes just fail to land, and the fact is that this swirls together such a wide variety of comedic notions that the flavors don't always mesh; considered in and of themselves many parts of the title are kind of altogether brilliant, but the conglomeration isn't a perfect fit.
Yet the wild, far-flung ingenuity that 'Hot Rod' bears carries the day, and nitpick as we may, the folks involved knew what they were doing. I have to hand it to The Lonely Island, producers Michaels and John Goldwyn, director Schaffer, Samberg and his co-stars, and everyone else who had a meaningful creative hand in this: I had a really good time! A smidgen of earnest storytelling, and the sheer gusto of the cast and crew, anchors the proceedings while the humor ranges all over the map. This can claim a bizarre but intoxicating energy that helps us to ride out those tidbits that are less sure-footed, and when all is said and done the result is a lot more fun than I anticipated. At its worst, infrequent as that may be, it's not as bad as I feared, and at its best - and it's at its best for most of these eighty-eight minutes - it's at least as good as I had hoped, if not better. Given everything that the movie throws at us I can understand how other folks may not get on board with it so easily, but for my part I'm rather delighted by how funny and entertaining this turned out to be. So long as you're open to all the wide, weird possibilities of what the medium can give us, I'm genuinely pleased to give 'Hot Rod' my hearty recommendation, for against all odds, this is very much worth checking out!
Hot Rod (1950)
The whole earns criticism, but the core substance is more admirable
This might be the most stereotypically 50s film I've seen to date. The opening narration and montage, shifting from illustration of "legal" hot rod activity to entering the active plot of unsanctioned motoring, is missing only an "And how!" to be complete. Jimmy Lydon and Gil Stratton, performing as chief characters David and Swifty, both speak with a wholly unbelievable "golly gee" timbre, and carry themselves with a like comportment, that have been endlessly mimicked and lampooned in all the years since. Judge Langham is as stiff, stodgy, and close-minded a figure as you could get, hammering on the impetuous behaviors of the youths and the dangers of the activities they participate in. Peer pressure! Teen rebellion! Melodrama! With writing and direction that from the outset seem so heavy-handed, could 'Hot rod' ever hope to so much as pick up its feet? Actually, as a matter of fact, it does. And while the sum total is broadly very much kith and kin with its contemporaries, it rather surprises in one very welcome manner, in the process standing out a little from its peers.
The world is full of exploitation flicks and propaganda films, titles of the sort that proliferated from the 30s ('Reefer madness') and through the 50s ('Girl gang'), and which aggravatingly remain in some form even to this day (e.g., most any "faith and inspiration" feature of the past twenty-odd years). They are cinematic footnotes, which would be a laughing stock if not for the gullible who eat them up, as producers and filmmakers with a death grip on some regressive agenda, and no grasp on reality, push their harmful worldviews. This seems primed to follow in those footsteps as the script has major early focus on the reckless drag racing, hot rodding behaviors of teens, aching to build to some terrible, life-changing event for our protagonists. One can easily imagine that folks who were raising kids at the time were nodding along to every imperious, proscriptive word of Judge Langham, ready to shove their own kids into a small box if they showed any sign of ill thought, and sadly there are many today who would no doubt find themselves agreeing just as readily
But ah, that's where the turn comes. Wherever the credit belongs between producer Jerry Thomas, writer Daniel B. Ullman, and filmmaker Lewis D. Collins, 'Hot rod' turns those conservative 50s norms on their head by emphatically showing the youths to be good and honest, if imperfect, and the judge to be out of touch. Just as other projects lean extra hard into sensationalism and would shamelessly posit that hot rods turn kids into hardened criminals and killers, this gratifyingly goes the opposite route and dares to say "Nah, the kids are alright." It's certainly not that the result is libertine, but it's unexpectedly progressive for the period as audiences are shown the meaningful, constructive community that can be built around shared, consensual recreation; the social good that can come from those who excel at that which is unfairly maligned; and that what people really need is just a safe, healthy outlet in which to exercise those natural impulses, to explore themselves and their interests, and to celebrate relatively nonconformist lifestyles that in other contexts could spell trouble.
It's hardly as if this picture is flawless, or a must-see. There are huge helpings of gaucheness on hand, and the writing and direction are still undeniably forthright and unsubtle more than not. The editing is decidedly curt and inelegant, with a couple spots in particular making one wonder if this was Roy V. Livingston's first day on the job. The cast give earnest performances, but no one was about to win any awards for their contributions. Nevertheless, while the film doesn't stand out in any other fashion, in general it's suitably well made as a second- or third-tier 50s piece. The story is duly compelling, and I plainly admire the themes that are woven in amidst the scene writing, characterizations, and dialogue. In an era ruefully known mostly for toxic masculinity and oppressive patriarchy, Thomas, Ullman, and Collins slyly toyed with expectations to quietly offer a different outlook on the world that men were shaping, and suggest that something a tad more free and open was possible. Scrutinize every odd and end as we may, and as they may deserve in retrospect, in 2024 we need more individuals with such comparative insight, and foresight, as the filmmakers demonstrate here.
By no means is this something one needs to go out of their way to see. Even with an especial bright spot that illuminates the night, 'Hot rod' could surely never earn any but a casual recommendation. Faults and all, however, I'm pleased with how good this turned out to be, and how forward-thinking. It may be a curiosity more than anything else, yet as something a smidgen off the beaten path among its contemporaries, and sincerely hopeful, I think this is worth checking out if you have the opportunity.
Hot Rod (1979)
Imperfect but firmly enjoyable; better than average for a TV movie
Old TV movies are the comfort food of cinema. The preponderance are middling, some are downright awful, and a relatively rare few are genuinely fantastic, but one way or another they tend to be lighter and more readily digestible - the fundamental qualities of more or less appealing to, or at least being suitable for, a wide broadcast audience. Unsurprisingly, ABC's 1979 drama 'Hot rod' is part and parcel of that so-so slurry. From the very beginning we're greeted with production values that are a hair below the standard for contemporary cinematic releases; milquetoast writing, and even-keeled direction and acting, by which everything is sterilized as much as possible; outright ham-handedness, and amiability that borders on the same; stock characters and a familiar scenario; and a soundtrack filled with yesterday's B-sides more than the hits, because more of the more recognizable hits (e.g., "Great balls of fire") would have exceeded the TV studio's allotted budget. Having been born well after the hey-day of drag racing, I also allow for the possibility that I've a misunderstanding of what the pastime entailed, but it seems to me that a plot partly centered around "sanctioned" drag racing isn't drag racing at all. Yep, 'Hot rod' is a TV movie, alright.
Don't get me wrong, we do get some swell stunts and action sequences, and depiction of true, illegal drag racing. The story and all component parts are unremarkable and common, but not specifically any less worthy; the entertainment to be had here is soft as aspiring racer Brian makes a stir in The Middle Of Nowhere, USA where a "nationals" competition is being held (?), but it's still apt entertainment. Particularly notable herein is the prominent plot element of small-town corruption (and small-town nobodies imperiously flexing what muscle they have), bought and paid for by the wealthy and powerful, which resonates all too substantially forty-five years on. There are plenty of names and faces in these ninety-five-some minutes that we know and love, and though the flick doesn't exactly test them, they're clearly all having a good time, and that counts for something. Some specific instances of cinematography or editing are questionable, but for the most part this is well made and some examples are better than others. The music is very enjoyable, and all the sights and sounds kind of make for a (much less than comprehensive and fully representative) time capsule of the late 70s. No matter how much we want to nitpick, 'Hot rod' is decent.
There are issues, sure. Some reasonable nitpicking belongs to the most glaringly gauche examples of camerawork or inelegant editing, nevermind some moments of direction that are less sure-footed. Some scene writing and characterizations are treated incompletely; the plot development is decidedly mild and sometimes repetitive as Brian has repeated run-ins with the local sheriff. Even setting aside the haphazard sequencing that weaves in some racing scenes, some such scenes feel somewhat pointlessly tacked on Just Because, as if producer Sam Manners or filmmaker George Armitage thought we might have forgotten the thrust of what we were watching. With all this in mind, I wonder if the whole isn't longer and slower than it should have been as the plot progresses in a rather piecemeal and scattered fashion. Still, some facets are distinctly smart and well done in what is overall a duly satisfying picture, and there's occasional minor humor to appreciate. Armitage reminds us in no uncertain terms of the evergreen, universal truth that All Cops Are Bozos, and in general there's no mistaking the ugliness of the antagonists and what they represent. Such as they are I do like the production design, costume design, hair and makeup, and so on.
And I don't even like automotive racing! In fact, I hate it! Actually, though we could possibly debate the extent to which this meaningfully deserves to be called "a racing film," I'd unflinchingly say it's vastly superior to some other supposedly iconic genre staples, like 'Days of thunder' or 'Talladega nights.' No matter how you slice it this is far from a must-see; it has faults, and it never aims all that high even at its best. But it's sort of fun exactly as it is, it ably stands firm on its own merits, and where TV movies are concerned, I might go so far as to say that it's a tad above average. It would have benefited from tighter, more focused writing and direction, yet all told it's fairly solid, and it's all that it needs to be to succeed. I'll even allow that I'm being too harsh, and the most significant troubles wane as the length draws on. One way or another don't go out of your way for 'Hot rod,' but if you're looking for something on the lighter side and don't mind the imperfections, this is worth checking out if you have the chance.
Buta to gunkan (1961)
Overall solid and enjoyable, if ultimately nothing all that special
Before I knew anything else about him, the first of Imamura Shohei's films I saw was 1989's 'Black rain,' a dour, tragic drama that lingers long after we finish watching. I think that first exposure spoiled me, because even if only subconsciously I keep expecting the man's other works to meet that same level of excellence. It's hardly that something like 'Pigs and battleships' is bad - far from it; this is solidly made, and worthwhile on its own merits. But even as the story grows more absorbing in the back end this doesn't make a particularly strong or lasting impression, and I don't expect I'll think on it hereafter. No, not every picture needs to be a revelation, but especially if some odds and ends bear discrete subjective faults, is it enough for a title to be broadly enjoyable?
Scribe Yamanouchi Hisashi penned a harsh but compelling story, with dark or wryly comedic elements, of a loose group of yakuza struggling with infighting, disloyalty, and finances; a low-ranking gangster, the troubled relationship with his girlfriend, her family, and the pig farm in which all of them have some interest. Imamura illustrates a keen eye as director, and likewise cinematographer Himeda Shinsaku. The cast give vibrant performances, and where stunts and effects are employed they're fantastic. The production design and art direction are as vivid and fetching as the filming locations, and all this comes together somewhat brilliantly in the last stretch as everyone's weak hopes for a better life, or at least to get ahead, are shredded. Mayuzumi Toshiro's original music is a fine complement all the while, and far more than not the sum total is engaging and engrossing as the plot progresses.
The problem I have is that the feature gets messy in the details, and all the less sure-footed facets feed into one another. Through both Imamura's direction and Tanji Mutsuo's editing the pacing tends to feel rushed and harried, too often disallowing some beats and ideas from carrying the full impact that they should. This amplifies, and is reinforced by, the sloppiness with which Yamanouchi's story is brought to bear in his screenplay. Taken each by themselves the characterizations are firm, but this isn't so good about elucidating who each of them are, let alone who they are to each other, or how it is that everyone seems to know each other. The ideas are there for the scene writing, but few are those moments that don't feel unfocused or inchoate even on paper. Or maybe I should be pinning more responsibility on Imamura after all; everything looks good, superficially, but the substance underpinning the sights and sounds to greet us gets mired in an execution that sometimes comes across as disjointed, overbearing or both.
Please understand, I do like 'Pigs and battleships.' I wonder if I'm not being too unkind in my assessment. But for as commendable as the production is at large, and the underlying narrative, there's nothing here that's specifically special or memorable, and other movies have played in a similar space. It's worthwhile on its own merits, but unless one has a special impetus to watch, I don't think it's so likely that this is going to stand out. Maybe it doesn't need to; maybe it's enough as it is. Why, I'll go so far as to say that maybe there's something about my viewing experience that was less than ideal, and if I were to try again I'd like it more than I do. I just know that its best aspects must be weighed against those that are more flawed or at least less impressive, and while I'm glad I took the time to watch, for my part I'll probably forget most everything about it in a matter of time. Do check out 'Pigs and battleships,' and have a good time with it as I did; just as much to the point, though, may you get more out of it than I did.
Chikyû kôgeki meirei Gojira tai Gaigan (1972)
Overall solid and enjoyable, though it again suffers from terrible pacing
I have to hand it to the cast and crew, everyone turned in pretty good work with this twelfth entry. Fukuda Jun's direction is capable, and the actors are having a good time, passing those feelings on to the audience; my commendations to Ishikawa Hiroshi, Umeda Tomoko, Hishimi Yuriko, and Takashima Minoru, among others. The script assembled by Sekizawa Shinichi is rather solid: a bit typical, yes, as extraterrestrials are again scheming to take over Earth, and a bit silly, for chief protagonist Kotaka Gengo predates Jack Burton in 'Big trouble in Little China' as he stumbles his way into heroics - but the narrative is duly compelling and the scene writing is strong. Nakano Teruyoshi now oversees the effects, taking over from icon Tsuburaya Eiji, but they're as fantastic as ever. The miniatures, models, blood, fire, explosions, general destruction, and stunts are all a blast; where post-production visuals are laid on top of filmed footage they're on par for the time (not great, but not bad), and the editing also plays into such wizardry. Even as some footage has been recycled the kaiju designs have been tweaked a little (e.g., this is the best Ghidorah has looked to date); while the music of composer extraordinaire Ifukube Akira is also borrowed from other features, we don't love it any less. With excellent production design and art direction, cinematography, and definitely fun sound effects among still more, 'Godzilla vs. Gigan' is roundly enjoyable, and surely one of the better installments of the franchise.
That doesn't mean that it's perfect, for some creative choices are somewhat curious, if also a matter of personal preference. Actually, the picture is downright troubled in one specific way, and it's one that we see again and again in this series: the pacing is pretty awful, pointedly diminishing the energy of the proceedings and dampening the lasting value to at least some degree. What's odd in this instance is that I'm inclined to think the flick is stronger not after but before the monsters take center stage. Where Gengo and the human element is the focus this bounces along just fine, and there's nothing particularly good or bad to note. Once four colossal beasts, all looking pretty good, start fighting, the battle just keeps going. And going. And going. And going. And going. I'd say that the Energizer Bunny has nothing on this movie, but the action in and of itself is also effectively rendered in slow motion, which only compounds the issue. That's not to say that this portion of 'Godzilla vs. Gigan' isn't worthwhile, but the promised showdown should be a highlight and a core strength, and instead the problem is so readily discerned that I wonder if it's not the weakest part. Oops.
Still, we get what we want. Some fair themes are broached; a plot with human characters dovetails into the anticipated effects sequences and kaiju conflict; it's duly well made overall. The title is entertaining, and I'd probably place it in the upper-middle of the pack where the Godzilla franchise is concerned. Even with faults, does this need to be any more than it is? Those who aren't broadly on board with such fare won't necessarily find anything to change their minds; those who are already fans, or open to whatever comes their way, are apt to appreciate what this has to offer. It certainly doesn't demand viewership, but it's deserving on its own merits if one does have the opportunity to watch, and with that 'Godzilla vs. Gigan' is good enough to earn a casual recommendation.
Allonsanfàn (1974)
A solid, lovingly crafted period drama (if also somewhat dark)
As an Italian period film taking place in the early 1800s, we get everything we would suppose out of the viewing experience in these two hours. The filming locations are utterly gorgeous, and the production design and art direction are flush with equally beautiful detail. The hair, makeup, and especially the costume design are just as fetching and attentively realized, and even the lighting and cinematography are sights for sore eyes. The stunts and practical effects on hand look terrific, and to much the same point, the cast give firm, commendable performances to bring the drama to bear. It's a compelling if dark and somewhat grim story that brothers Paolo and Vittorio Taviani give us: the story of a bitter, disillusioned revolutionary, and those he cruelly betrays while selfishly seeking a more comfortable life. All along the way one can plainly see and feel how lovingly this was crafted, with some particular odds and ends standing out (including a brief sequence near the end), and the original score of master composer Ennio Morricone is simply a gift. By and large, 'Allonsanfàn' is excellent, and it's well worth watching no matter what one is looking for.
That doesn't mean it's perfect. While Morricone's dominant theme is a treasure - there's a reason Quentin Tarantino would notably borrow it thirty-four years later - I'm struck by how little variety there is in the music, and I can't help but wonder if said theme would be more effective if it were exercised more sparingly. In other regards I'm not so certain what it is that bugs me about the picture, but it arises somewhere between the Taviani's writing and direction. It's a marginal lack of total clarity, perhaps, in how characters are introduced or beats laid out, or maybe a slight lack of finesse: amorphousness and curious hard edges, both at once and made more pronounced by some small tidbits that feel unnecessary or indulgent. None of this is nearly so severe as to specifically detract from the feature, but truthfully I just don't find the whole to be as rich and vibrant as I supposed based on scant foreknowledge. (For the record, said foreknowledge includes two seconds-long clips removed from context, Morricone's theme, and the premise.) 'Allonsanfàn' is solid, engaging, enjoyable, and satisfying, but it's not altogether grabbing or rewarding.
Maybe I'm nitpicking, though. Far more than not we get what we want, and this is well written and well made, a testament to the skills of those involved with regards to both film-making and storytelling, not to mention acting. Scrutinize as we may, all told there's not much going wrong with this title, and to the extent that it falls short it's a matter of semantics, or personal preference, more than substance. I'd stop short of saying 'Allonsanfàn' is a must-see, but whatever your impetus for watching it's well worth checking out, and at length, maybe that's all it needs to be.
The Big Year (2011)
An absolute pleasure - warm and enchanting, earnest and pleasant, and wonderfully balanced
Big Year? More like Big Cast! I completely missed out on this when it was first released, and while that may be understandable insofar as it garnered a lukewarm reception, the huge list of names and faces involved should have helped it to stand out more. Better late than never, however, and thanks to the enthusiastic recommendation of some birders, here I sat watching this 2011 film and greatly enjoying it. The thing is, had I caught wind of it thirteen years ago I would have had very mixed expectations: Owen Wilson previously built his career on Frat Pack raunch and Wes Anderson quirkiness, and Jack Black is also a comedic actor known for his zest and vivaciousness - none of which is necessarily what appeals to me as a viewer. Thankfully, however, in sharp contrast to 'The wedding crashers' or Tenacious D, 'The Big Year' allows these two stars, and all those appearing alongside them, to demonstrate a little more earnestness, a little more of their range and skills as actors, and a little more wit instead of bombast. I'm not saying this is a must-see, but it's a real pleasure, and anyone looking for something a tad lighter and more warmhearted is sure to have a good time.
There's a lot to take in in these 100-odd minutes, even setting aside the casting of Wilson, Black, Martin, Jones, Huston, Parsons, Pike, Williams, Anderson, Dennehy, Wiest, Nelson, McHale, Pollak, Weber, and still more. It is in no small part a celebration of nature and our avian friends, and we get bountiful footage of far-flung locations across the United States, and of an enormous variety of birds - some genuinely captured on film, and some visualized through computer-generated imagery, but all just as wonderful. Granted, it would take a very special and dedicated filmmaker to create a picture with this alone, so in loosely adapting Mark Obmascik's book, writer Howard Franklin fashions his screenplay with a discrete narrative and firm central characterizations. As far as that goes the story is very familiar as we're given a cutthroat birder out to repeat his record, a wealthy retiree who sincerely caught the bug, and a passionate underdog struggling with meager resources and a doubting father. The roots are familiar, yes, and treated a bit softly, but still the screenplay is solid, further including admirable, satisfying scene writing and swell dialogue amidst its compelling plot.
Gosh, I just can't get over the sights and sounds to greet us: the landscapes, the sky, the feathered friends. In that appreciation of the world around us there's a heartfelt joy in this feature that's more important than any storytelling, including a romantic element and major sentimental beats, and more important than any humor. But we get that, too; with infrequent exception the comedy is gentler and milder, but it most assuredly earns laughs. There's a touch of a mean-spirited edge, sure, given the competition on hand, but between Franklin's script and David Frankel's keen direction, even this is suppressed as much as possible to keep the proceedings as light and fresh as they can be. On top of all this, if we can manage to tear our eyes away for just a minute from the wildlife and scenery - and from the loving tidbits that are further woven into the dialogue and storytelling - I adore the way that this is shaped, including on-screen text and connotation of our characters' totals, and Mark Livolsi's smart, mindful editing that gives meaningful, equal treatment to all component parts. With Frankel's steady direction bringing all this to bear with wholehearted warmth, vitality, and cleverness, the result is truly richer than I could have ever supposed sights unseen. Case in point, there are considerable dramatic beats that mark this as more of a comedy-drama, yet by Frankel's guiding hand, just as the comedy is shrewdly restrained to serve the movie's purpose, so too does this refuse to get bogged down in the heavier moments.
The actors give fantastic performances that breathe vivid life into the material; with their focus in particular, 'The Big Year' is in turn very funny, moving and tear-jerking, or altogether inspiring. Beyond the air, land, sea, and fauna (avian and human alike), and on top of the superb writing, I treasure Theodore Shapiro's stirring score, and even the soundtrack is a minor delight - indie rock is the twenty-first century's false equivalent of folk music, but that doesn't mean it's any less worthy. The production design and art direction are splendid, and no less so the costume design, hair, and makeup. Lawrence Sher's cinematography is as crisp, smooth, and pleasing as all else herein, and likewise the sound design. Honestly, is there any going wrong here? Is there any way in which the title falls short of perfect? Strictly speaking I don't know if I'd say it's utterly impeccable. Yet not least as it's so stupendously balanced in its writing, direction, and tone, and in managing both the storytelling and the birding, if it does indeed fall short to any slight degree, I'm willing to round up. I sat to watch with no especial foreknowledge and expectations that were mixed to high, and those expectations have been readily exceeded. As far as I'm concerned this is a flick that hits all the right notes, and I'm taken aback that it's not held in higher regard. I understand that it won't appeal to all comers, and I can understand why, too. Be that as it may, I had so much fun watching 'The Big Year' that I'd have no qualms in giving it as an enthusiastic recommendation to one and all. Know that it's not the typical fare we assume from the folks involved, but in my mind that's exactly what helps to make it so special, and I think 'The Big Year' deserves far more attention.
Riso amaro (1949)
Wonderfully absorbing, tremendously smart and well made - an essential, underappreciated classic
There are some films that immediately make their mark and roundly impress from the outset. I couldn't be more pleased that this is one of them. In every capacity there's much to love here, and I'm struck again and again by how brilliant it is. I understand that 'Riso amaro,' or 'Bitter rice,' received a fair bit of recognition after it was released, but to be honest I'm taken aback that it's not more well known, and that it was only by little more than lucky happenstance that I discovered it in the first place. In my opinion this deserves far more visibility - and more than that, I'm inclined to think it's one of the best movies I've ever seen.
There are a lot of people who contributed to the story and screenplay alone, accentuating how filmmaking is commonly the culmination of the laborious effort of many individuals working together. With a total of five collaborators writing alongside filmmaker Giuseppe De Santis, let alone producer Dino De Laurentiis, I wonder if this isn't the best picture I've personally seen where such a committee drew together the script. It's a crime drama, yes, as a thief and his accomplice hide out in or around the rice fields in northern Italy, with far worse seediness to come before all is said and done. I'm also reminded of King Vidor's underappreciated 'Our daily bread' in its glimpsed celebration of workers and ordinary people standing up for each other; then, too, there are touches of neorealism as De Santis lets us peek at contemporary post-war Italy, the labor and lifestyle of the rice fields, and the hopes and aspirations of the people. That the feature further benefits from vibrant, fleshed-out characters of sharp personality and intelligence, marvelously flavorful and substantive scene writing, and even some shrewd dialogue only cements how tremendous the foundations are even on paper. In conception alone one moment after another is altogether inspired, to say nothing of everything else on hand.
At first I thought it was De Santis' direction that was most grabbing, rich and vivid in guiding his cast, in deliciously orchestrating every shot and scene, and in drawing out the terrific electricity that freely surges through the length. Yet Otello Martelli's cinematography is just as loving and attentive, being crisp and fluid, and there are points where I'm all but blown away by Gabriele Varriale's impeccable editing. Then, too, the actors give fabulously strong performances, spirited yet nuanced in their range of emotions and in how they carry themselves; Vittorio Gassman, Doris Dowling, Silvana Mangano, and Raf Vallone, chiefly centered among still others, are utter joys with the vivaciousness and varied humanity they bring to Walter, Francesca, Silvana, and even Marco. And that's definitely not all, for the on-site filming locations are superb, and the production design and art direction are a pleasure. The costume design, hair, and makeup are splendid, and the stunts and simple practical effects that are employed look fantastic. Even the lighting is decidedly eye-catching at times, and while Goffredo Petrassi's score doesn't entirely stand out in and of itself, it lends enormously to the shifting mood, with many instances being plainly exceptional. Frankly I would expect no less from the man who helped to develop the talent of Ennio Morricone.
The result of all this unyielding excellence is that many individual shots are downright ingenious. Many scenes, even those of a quieter nature, buzz with a fierce, hot-burning energy that's intoxicating; a sequence to come at almost exactly the halfway mark is flush with such magnificent, bristling tension that it's almost too much to bear, and it's not the only one. We're given a saga that toys with corruption, and a fall from grace, that almost takes on a psychological edge every now and again in the focus on Silvana; contrasting with the equally conflicted Francesca who rather seems to be on an opposite trajectory, one tidbit heading into the last approximate third is especially piercing as it spotlights where the figures are headed. The title also pointedly speaks to the conditions of these laborers, and the dynamics and camaraderie between them, all of which in its own way feeds into the active plot. From the very beginning to the very end 'Riso amaro' is so raptly absorbing, satisfying, and rewarding that I couldn't tear my eyes away, and I say that as someone who sat to watch with no foreknowledge and uncertain expectations. I liked the film right away, but in all earnestness it only gets better and better as the runtime elapses.
It's not necessarily a pleasant viewing experience, for the narrative turns from interesting, to harrowing, to outright dark. As a matter of personal preference I can understand that this won't appeal to all comers. For my part, however, I couldn't be happier with how outstanding the movie is, and it had me locked in with an intensity that only ever increased. Every element of the production is simply perfect as far as I'm concerned, and for all the great pictures I've ever watched, there are relatively few that have been as roundly rejuvenating in their strength and value as this. In my mind 'Riso amaro' is nothing less than an exemplary classic, and I can only give it my very highest, heartiest, and most enthusiastic recommendation!
Fräulein Doktor (1969)
A solid wartime spy thriller with an especially gripping third act
It's hard not to be somewhat awestruck by the breadth of the international co-production. A cooperation between Italy and Yugoslavian companies, filmed in Yugoslavia and Hungary, with a cast and crew spread across several countries including the United Kingdom? That catches one's attention, and make no mistake. So does the fact that every actor is speaking English, and mostly with accents straight from the British Isles, no matter the characters' nationalities or occupation. The fact is that regardless of its provenance 'Fräulein Doktor' looks and feels like many contemporary British films that played in loosely similar territory, such as John Sturges' 'The eagle has landed' or Tony Maylam's 'The riddle of the sands,' among others. That's curious, perhaps, insofar as it means that despite everything this somewhat lacks an identity of its own; by the same token, given the level of quality that other such titles boast, it speaks well to what we can expect here. And sure enough, as the plot develops one can't help but to be readily engrossed by all to greet us in these 100-odd minutes. It's not that the movie is a must-see, but anyone who appreciates such fare - a spy thriller, with dalliances of war and airs of adventure - will surely enjoy what it offers.
H. A. L. Craig, writing with Vittoriano Petrilli and filmmaker Alberto Lattuada, serves up a story that is arguably a tad messy to the extent that its structure is a smidgen disordered, and a tad clunky in how the narrative flows (or doesn't). Granted, apart from a lengthy and prominent flashback that's somewhat inelegantly inserted amidst the active plot, this could also be attributed to Nino Baragli's editing. One might also say that the tone tends to be a little soft, or flat. Yet overall I believe the picture is so strong that such matters feel minor, and do not meaningfully impact the viewing experience. The story of the titular spy, a German agent during World War I, is firmly compelling, absorbing, and satisfying, with considerable smart, splendid detail all throughout - and the robust, often vibrant scene writing to match. Even if we deign to scrutinize the tone Lattuada's direction is solid, centering the small details herein and drawing out the nuance to be had in any given scene. And with the superb contributions that all involved made to round out the production, the result is gladly entertaining and rewarding to a more significant measure than I think I anticipated. Quibble as we may about some minutiae, all told this is excellent.
The feature clearly benefited from abundant resources to bring the settings and the saga to bear, and I could hardly be more pleased with how good everything looks and sounds. The music of master composer Ennio Morricone doesn't actually come into play that much, at least not until the third act, but he is a welcome part of any endeavor and his work here invariably adds substantial flavor. More outwardly noteworthy is the marvelous and sometimes grim production design and art direction, providing much for our eyes to take in at all times, not to mention the swell filming locations; to much the same point, the costume design, hair, and makeup were treated with attentive care. The cast give steady, admirable performances, not least Suzy Kendall as the shifty title character, ably lending to the tension and drama. And while filling a comparatively minute portion of the runtime, those stunts and effects that are employed are unquestionably fantastic, absolutely including the violence of the third act and above all the climactic sequence of trench warfare. Where appropriate Lattuada illustrates a sharp mind for spectacle, and to that end, that climax is more viscerally horrifying than I'd have ever supposed for a flick of this nature. Bolstered still more by Ennio's impeccable score, the climax is altogether haunting, a grisly capstone for the film that's going to stick with me for a long time to come.
From top to bottom 'Fräulein Doktor' ranges from engaging at the very least, to stupendously gripping at its most severe. From the stunts and effects, to the extras, to the shrewd writing and direction, to Morricone's music, I can't overstate how great the picture is when all is said and done. We might say that some aspects could have been tightened or latched onto more fiercely, including the ending, but by and large this is so good that such points are a question of semantics more than substance. Content warnings are quite necessary for the degree of violence on hand, but provided this is no obstacle, I'm all so happy with how tall 'Fräulein Doktor' continues to stand, and I can only give it my very high and hearty recommendation!