Eldar Ryazanov's A Cruel Romance is a true gem of Soviet cinema; an under-seen period piece set in 1877 that is lavish, funny and devastating in equal measures. The bulk of the action is set in the fictional town of Bryakhimov on the bank of the Volga River, where many merchant men have made their fortune and now seek a wife. The Ogudalovas were once the richest family in the area, but now matriarch Kharita (Alisa Freyndlikh) struggles to pay her mortgage after the death of her husband, but still mingles with society's higher-ups in the hope of finding a husband for her three daughters. Two of them are now married, with the wedding of second daughter Olga (Olga Krasikova) to an overbearingly jealous prince from Tiflis opening the film. This is all witnessed by Larisa (Larisa Guzeeva), the most beautiful and desirable of the Ogudalova sisters, who is happy to see her sibling sail off to a new life, but feels shame at the thought of being sold off like property.
Larisa is the last remaining singleton, and there's no shortage of suitors, despite the fact that she will come without a dowry. The richest merchant in town, Mokiy Parmenovich Knurov (Aleksey Petrenko), harbours strong feelings towards Larisa, but he is married and too old. Perhaps better suited is Larisa's childhood friend Vasiliy Danilovich Vozhevatov (Viktor Proskurin), but he is not quite rich enough to take a bride without a dowry. Yuliy Kapitonovich Karandyshev (Andrey Myagkov), a postman of low social status, is madly in love with Larisa, or perhaps with how such a beautiful woman will feed his ego. Yuliy frequents the parties thrown by Kharita in the hope of convincing her, but is usually left embarrassed or overshadowed by the more charismatic men at the events. Yet Larisa only has eyes for one man, the rich, handsome and exciting Sergei Sergeyvich Paratov (Nikita Mikhalkov), a travelling merchant who surrounds himself with music-playing gypsies who utterly adore him. After spending a wonderful evening together, Paratov suddenly sets sail without saying goodbye, leaving Larisa at the mercy of the increasingly obsessive Yuliy.
Told in two parts, the first segment roughly covers the span of a year, while the second is merely a day and night. Larisa's sweeping romance with the reckless Sergei and his subsequent disappearance is a more personal story of a poor woman's seemingly hopeless search for love, while part two, which sees Sergei return and plot his seduction, makes larger statements about Russian society as a whole and the type of men that rot it to the core. As the merchants get together at a dinner party hosted by Vasily, these powerful, intelligent men toy with the drunk postman like an ant under a magnifying glass. It's often incredibly funny but uncomfortable to watch, and these brilliantly-acted scenes help build a sense of impending doom, particularly with the way Knurov watches over the Ogudalova family fortune like a vulture and plots Larisa's future like an all-knowing puppet-master. While it creeps slightly into melodramatic territory near the end, A Cruel Romance is a gorgeous costume drama with a ravishing score and haunting cinematography, capable of both sweeping you up into its arms and delivering a few cruel blows along the way.
Opening with Kathleen Turner's 'China Blue' facing the camera spreadeagled while a man performs cunnilingus on her, Ken Russell's barking mad Crimes of Passion starts as provocatively as it means to go on. A nightmare for the censors (as Russell's films generally were), Crimes of Passion had to undergo heavy cuts even to pass for an R rating upon its original release, when it was met with generally unfavourable reviews. Years later, it's still a somewhat baffling oddity with some terrible dialogue, but its certainly an interesting, one-off experience.
Fashion designer Joanna Crane (Turner) is a successful, emotionally cold businesswoman by day, but by night, she is China Blue, the most sought-after and beautiful prostitute to walk the streets. We see her pleasure a variety of men in a variety of ways, and she seems to enjoy her work. Her biggest fan is fanatical street preacher Rev. Peter Shayne (Anthony Perkins), a lunatic who watches her through a hole in the wall and wants to 'save her soul', carrying with him at all times a massive, blade-sharp dildo. Middle-class electrician Bobby Grady (John Laughlin) is married to his childhood sweetheart (Annie Potts) and is bored with her frigid ways. When he is assigned to spy on Joanna by her boss who falsely believes her to be stealing, he discovers her alter-ego and falls for her.
Although it explores themes of emotional detachment and sexual discovery, it's difficult to unravel just what Crimes of Passion is truly about. One moment the film will deliver a moment of tenderness between Joanna and Bobby, and suddenly shift the tone and focus onto Perkins' sweaty, nitrate-sniffing deviant. But if anyone can add an artistic bend to such a sleazy subject matter, it is Ken Russell, who manages to find neon-lit beauty in even the grimiest of locations. Turner and Perkins are terrific, while Laughlin fails to find any dimensions within his one-note character but, in his defence, is lumped with some wobbly dialogue. Laughably over-the-top and overlong at 110 minutes, it's a frustrating and sometimes silly experience, but one that I would recommend anybody to watch at least once.
Siblings Marion (Heather Page) and Alex (Comrades (1986) director Bill Douglas in a rare acting role) share a crumbling cottage in the countryside. With Alex seemingly under constant stress due to his writing job, their relationship is somewhat strained, and things get worse when they are visited out of the blue by city-dwelling husband and wife Richard (Nickolas Grace) and Angela (Joanna David). Richard in an appalling, outspoken yuppie with a fondness for homophobic slights, and tensions mount as they go out for a dinner and the alcohol starts to flow. Afterwards back at the house, things start to get weird when somebody starts to sleepwalk with murderous in mind.
Re-released recently as part of the BFI's 'Flipside' series, which celebrates anything British, obscure and bizarre, Sleepwalker is an extremely odd yet mostly absorbing experience. While the tone is certainly British, the style is distinctly Italian. The first two-thirds consists of amusing, well-scripted character building, as the foursome clash and size each other up, while the remaining portion set back at the house goes into full-blown horror mode, turning the relatively small house into a disorientating labyrinth. It's a giallo at heart, with the work of Dario Argento in particular no doubt an influence on director Saxon Logan (cool name). Running at just over 50 minutes, the movie passes by in a flash and will probably leave you scratching your head when the screen fades to black, but it's also a film that didn't leave my mind for days afterwards, and left me itching to experience it again.
Boasting a wacky title and a wackier plot, The Adventures of Buckaroo Banzai Across the 8th Dimension was always tailored for cult success. Naturally, it bombed at the box office and left critics befuddled, but now has an army of loyal fans behind it. The main problem with the film is that it's far too aware of his cult fate, constantly striving to be that more out-there with its kitschy sets, crazy outfits and zippy one-liners. It tells the story of Buckaroo Banzai (Peter Weller), a neurosurgeon, test pilot, physicist and lead singer of a rock band, who, while testing his new jet car, manages to cross into the 8th dimension with the help of a device called the 'oscillation overthruster'.
Upon learning of Banzai's success, Dr. Emilio Lizardo (John Lithgow), who was at the helm of a failed experiment using the overthruster in 1938, breaks out of a home for the criminally insane. His experiment left him only half-way through the dimension, during which time an alien named Lord John Whorfin managed to take over his mind. Whorfin is the leader of the reptilian Red Lectroids, who were banished into the 8th dimension by the Black Lectroids, a friendlier alien race who sound like rastafarians. Banzai's exploits alerts them all, and, with the help of the Hong Kong Cavaliers, his gang of ass-kicking musicians/scientists, and a girl who has caught his eye (Ellen Barkin), Banzai is caught up in a race against time to save the planet.
This is quite clearly a movie not to be taken seriously. Lines such as "evil pure and simple by way of the eighth dimension!" are spoken with tongue poking out of cheek, and Lithgow's knowingly ridiculous Italian accent gives Nicolas Cage a run for his money. While certainly fun, it tries to be too many things at once, be it a romance, sci-fi, an action movie, a comedy, a satire or a spoof, it doesn't fully deliver in any of these areas. The heightened self-awareness can often leave you with the feeling that you're being left out of the joke, with the faux-trailer during the closing credits - that may have happened had the film not bombed - reinforcing this idea. Fans will argue that I 'don't get it', and I probably don't, but I certainly enjoyed it's camp aesthetic, amusing one-liners, and enormous cast of talented character actors.
18 year-old Reggie (Catherine Mary Stewart), is a Valley girl working in the local movie theatre when the rest of the world are out partying, waiting for the arrival of a passing comet. Reggie has a party of her own with goofy projectionist Larry (Breaking Bad's Michael Bowen) and ends up missing the event entirely. After Larry is attacked by a zombie-like creature and dragged away, Reggie emerges into the world the next morning to find everyone vanished. All that remains are piles of clothes and red dust. She travels home to pick up her adorable sister Samantha (Kelli Maroney), and heads to a local radio station in search for fellow survivors, only to find lovable idiot Hector (Robert Beltran).
What is clearly aiming for pastiche of 1950's apocalyptic sci-fi movies, is actually an uneasy mix of many things. With the early introduction of the 'zombies', who can talk and use weapons, we are in horror territory. But this seems quickly forgotten once Hector goes to search for his mother and the girls head out for some very 80's retail therapy, even dancing around to Cyndi Lauper. Then it feels like we are in a John Hughes movie, with light humour and a cheesy soundtrack replacing the end-of-the-world atmosphere. It then switches again when the survivors are tracked down by a group of researchers who may or may not be up to any good. We are then in kiddie-friendly sci-fi mode, with men in white suits and big buttons that make science-y sounds.
Night of the Comet really isn't that bad, it just suffers from a disarming lack of follow-through that withhold's the film's potential, and shifts between genres too gleefully. The result is a film that's isn't funny enough to be labelled an out-and-out comedy, too bloodless to be called a horror, and takes too long to get to the shady scientist types that it would be misleading to name it science fiction. The performances are all decent, especially Star Trek: Voyager's Beltran and Chopping Mall's (1986) Maroney, who both would have benefited the film by having more screen-time. Geoffrey Lewis also shows up near the end as the big-bad head of the shady researchers, but it's too little, too late, and Night of the Comet is tame and messy when it should be spunky and fun.
Certainly lacking in wise-cracking rubber monsters and outlandishly-dressed brain-dead punks, Combat Shock - a serious, if extremely low-budget drama/psychological horror by writer/director/producer Buddy Giovinazzo - proves that Troma Entertainment occasionally took their movies seriously. The shell-shocked Vietnam veteran story had been done many times before, and certainly a lot better, but never quite as unsettling. Far from a masterpiece, and riddled with terrible production values, Combat Shock nevertheless is a glowing statement as to just what scraping-the-piggy-bank film-making can sometimes offer.
After an event during the Vietnam War that left a village dismembered and massacred, Frankie Dunlan (Rick Giovinazzo - brother to Buddy), struggles to adapt to civilian life. Living in poverty, unable to find work, and saddled with a whining wife (Veronica Stork) and a deformed baby, he is about the have the worst day of his life. Owing money to a group of drug-dealing punks, led by Paco (Mitch Maglio), Frankie wanders the battered streets of his native New York, coming into contact with various low-lives and looking for any way to make a buck. Seemingly without hope, and terrified to go back to his starving family empty-handed, he resorts to an act of violence.
You could imagine running a finger along the negative of Combat Shock and immediately needing to wash your hands afterwards. The movie seems awash with grime, and the streets Frankie wanders down have an almost apocalyptic quality. This is utterly depressing stuff, nearly entirely devoid of laughs, where the types of people Frankie befriends are gun-wielding junkies or child prostitutes. It's sometimes laughably pessimistic, a journey into utter depravity, and combined with some extremely amateurish production values and an occasionally plodding narrative, can be a bit of a slog to get through at times.
Yet for all it's sloppy editing and wide-eyed, over-the-top thesping, it is at times extremely effective. The baby, horribly disfigured due to Frankie's exposure to Agent Orange, looks cheap, but the way it moves and sounds, combined with the dump that surrounds it, is just as disturbing as Eraserhead (1977). There is also a horrible moment when a junkie, unable to find a needle for his fix, opens his damaged arm with a coat hanger and pours heroin into his black, bleeding vein. Some will find it's relentless depravity too much to take, but there's a gritty honesty here, going deep into the dark heart of a post-Vietnam America, where traumatised Vets were hung out to dry by a country that had forgotten them.
German film-maker Werner Herzog is well-known for his obsession with, well, obsession, finding joy and producing some great documentaries over the years championing the quirkiness of the human spirit. With Ballad of the Little Soldier, the focus is not on the idiosyncratic but on the child soldiers serving in Nicaragua fighting for the native Miskito Indians against the oppressive Sandinistas. Although he may deny it, this is Herzog's most political film to date. With co-director Denis Reichle, who served the Nazi's in the Volkssturm, Herzog's interviews various Miskito inhabitants who have fallen victim of the brutal Sandinistan regime.
At only 45 minutes long, Herzog and Reichle manage to paint a large picture of what life was like for the Miskito's. A woman wails about her family, butchered at the hands of the Socialist Sandinistas, whose government initiative to move the Miskito's into civilised society has led to their villages being sacked and torched, and the mass murder of men, women and children. The persistent nature of Herzog and Reichle's interview techniques do often make things uncomfortable, but it certainly makes for devastating viewing.
Narratively, the film is all over the place. The cinema verite style contradicts the film's title, shifting focus away from the children far too often in favour of the adult soldiers, who march past the camera with similar resigned, weathered expressions. But this is still powerful stuff, with Herzog's narration lending the film a dream-like quality amidst the seriousness of the subject matter, and Reichle's recollection of his time in the Volksstrum as a child making for difficult viewing, especially told in the context of the events that were unfolding in Nicaragua. Although this is far from Herzog's best documentary, he manages to achieve more in 45 minutes than most documentarians could only dream of.
By 1983 the horror sub-genre of slasher films were dwindling, offering largely imitations of the hugely successful Friday the 13th series (in 1984 Friday had it's 'Final Chapter' that proved to be eventually false), with films such as Curtains, The Forest or Sleepaway Camp. Whilst the majority of these films expressed the vapid nature of teenagers as throwaway avatars for murder, they continued with the conventions set out by John Carpenter's Halloween (1978), but added very little in originality or invention. Of course, Wes Craven's A Nightmare on Elm Street was not the first slasher to involve a supernatural villain - Uli Lommel's ridiculous The Boogeyman (1980) - along with Halloween's Michael Myers - had utilised these elements before, but Craven's nightmare hook turned what could have been a standard early-'80's horror film into something quite original and filled with socio-political ideas.
Wes Craven at this point in his career had made the notorious (and still quite shocking) debut, The Last House on the Left (1972), the mediocre, yet well known The Hills Have Eyes (1977) and the failed mystery, Deadly Blessing (1981) - amongst other inferior projects. He had yet to display his intelligent subversion of horror conventions that are now well known though the Scream franchise (1996 - 2011), but within the foundation of his slasher screenplay, was a concept inspired by a real-life mystery that he embellished, creating what is now an icon of the genre. Craven read in the newspapers about a young Asian boy who was fearful of sleep, telling his parents that someone was after him in his dreams. One night his physician father gave him sleeping pills, and the boy violently died in his sleep. So, what if there was someone attempting to kill a group of teenagers in their sleep? Well, it would surely make for an interesting narrative, and one that would equally be frightening, smart and original.
On the surface, Nightmare is a straight forward story about revenge. Krueger hunts the teenage children of the parents who had burned him alive. A child molester and killer (the molestation angle was diluted for the film due to the McMartin pre-school trial that was breaking in the media at the time), Krueger had escaped imprisonment due to a technicality, so the parents of Springwood created a vigilante mob to track him down and deal out justice on their own terms. As Nancy (Heather Langenkamp) and her friends begin to describe the razor-fingered, red-and-green-sweater-wearing figure invading their dreams, the conspiracy surrounding him, and the secrecy kept by the parents begins to unravel. Elm Street is a place where the parents (or the forefathers of the United States) hide the sins of the "father" from the younger generation. Like the omni-present rise of a new conservatism in Reagan-era politics, America desperately felt the need to hide the fundamental violence that created the nation.
In this context, Krueger represents America's violent past, from the decimation of native Indians, through the depravity of civil war, to the embarrassment of the failed war in Vietnam. Reagan wanted to present the nation as a clean-cut, progressive society, and with the religious right now on his side (before 1980, state and religion were separated by the constitution, until Republicans realised the number of voters that could be gained by "preaching" god and country into their policies). In the first real introduction of Krueger proper in the film, the young Tina (Amanda Wyss) stands in an alleyway, and he enters at the other side, his Fedora hat in silhouette, he stands like a figure from the old western frontier, the music suggests the genre conventions of a John Ford film. But this is an outlaw figure twisted to reveal to the youth of the '80's that they are no longer able to believe the lies and deceits of parent and government. But Krueger is also a spectre of the past, who will correct the wrongs by eliminating the future, tearing apart the fabric of the fallacy created to whitewash any infractions of history.
Aside from subtextual concepts that run through the film, there is ample room for inventive, bloody deaths. The supernatural infuses the script and lets fantasy become overindulged. From the horrific death of Tina, whose body, slashed with the finger knives, is dragged onto the ceiling where she screams for life, to Johnny Depp's screen debut, where his body is pulled into his bed, gushing out blood at an impossible rate, the bloodletting is both horrifying and informatively original. In Nancy we have the standard final girl of the sub-genre, but she is far more intelligent than previous girls. Langenkamp portrays the strong-willed female with confidence. But fundamentally, unlike films such as Friday the 13th or Halloween, the "monster" seems to have purpose, his vengeance almost justified by the legality of his murder; legitimised by a troubled past. In a way, Krueger looks over the teenagers, like the incredibly effective scene where his claws and face push through the wall above the sleeping Nancy, he peeks into the wrong bedroom, but he wants to expose the fabrication of history.
I first saw A Nightmare on Elm Street on video in 1985 (a friends brother rented it for us - I was 9), and it was one of the first modern horror films I was introduced to. To be honest it was a bit of a revelation, and I can easily state that it probably changed my life, in the sense that I saw a film that played with film form, and presented the concept and atmosphere of a dream/nightmare in such a primal and effective way. It is certainly a film that has stayed in my sub-conscious ever since. The impact of the film, and its central, monstrous conceit (Krueger), has been watered down with seven inferior sequels (which will be reviewed on The Wrath of Blog over the next few months), and has therefore lost the thing that made it work on so many levels. But, watching this film as a stand alone narrative, it still has a powerful, deeply disturbing idea - we all sleep, we all dream. What if that activity that we all need to survive could kill you? The only real failure of this first movie is the multiple, farcical endings that time has been unkind to. It seems that director and producer, Robert Shaye, were unable to agree on a suitable end, but resolved to use them all. But it is still a film of interesting beauty and mood, and a film that I will no doubt return to in the future.
Contrary to the film's title, this is, of course, not the final chapter in the Jason Voorhees franchise, which has up to now reached ten movies, as well as a re-make and a spin-off. But the huge success of the series meant that production company Paramount Pictures could not turn down such an easy money-spinner, given the movies cost around a mere $1.5 million to make and usually grossed $20-30 million. Although the movies generally range from bad to awful, it is easy to see why they were a huge success - simple plots, lots of tits, plenty of gore, and a truly memorable killer in Jason. The Final Chapter is widely considered the best of the series by fans, deviating slightly from the repetitive plots of the preceding movies, and giving the film a recurring hero in Tommy Jarvis (here played by Corey Feldman).
Picking up straight after the third instalment, Jason (Ted White) is believed dead and is taken to a nearby morgue, where a doctor and a nurse are having a sneaky fumble. Naturally, Jason miraculously awakens and butchers them. Meanwhile, a group of horny college kids (where would this franchise be without them?) are making their way to a rented lodge on Crystal Lake, which is located next to the home of the Jarvis family. After daughter Trish Jarvis (Kimberly Beck) breaks down, she is helped by mysterious hitch-hiker Rob (Erich Anderson), who has rather secretive reasons to be in the area. As the college kids start to party and try to rub up against each other, Jason begins his slaughter.
Having up to this point only seen up to this movie, I can categorically state that this is the best so far, and although it's still pretty basic by normal standards, it certainly elevates the sheer mundanity of the previous instalments. Tom Savini, back for his second and last job on the series, creates some memorable moments of gore, including a cork-screw to the hand and special mention must also go to the craziest actor since Klaus Kinski, Crispin Glover, for his spectacular dance scene - it is one of the most bizarre moments I've ever seen on film. Yet the film only really seems so good when compared to the rest of the series, and, ultimately, is still a formulaic slasher film with no real moments of tension or originality, blandly directed by Chuck Norries-frequenter Joseph Zito.
Although it can be argued that they are still being made, the 'spoof' movie really died a death in the 1990's. Recently, there have been tragedies such as Epic Movie (2007) and its various imitations, all of which were the cinematic equivalent of sticking your cock in a blender. They used to be the forte of comedic giants and legends such as Mel Brooks, Carl Reiner and the Monty Python crew. David Zucker, Jerry Zucker and Jim Abrahams made perhaps the last great spoof in Top Secret!, a relentless parody of spy thrillers that seems unfairly forgotten in the wake of ZAZ's (Zucker-Abrahams-Zucker) more popular Airplane! (1980) and The Naked Gun (1988).
With East Gemany planning an attack during a cultural festival, they invite American rock 'n' roll singer Nick Rivers (Val Kilmer) to perform as a distraction for the audiences. Rivers, a sort of Beach Boys meets Elvis Presley, soon gets embroiled in the French resistance movement when he meets the beautiful Hillary Flammond (Lucy Gutteridge) who is searching for her missing father Dr. Paul (Michael Gough). Along with a group of misfit revolutionaries with various French pun's for names, and Hillary's lost-love Nigel (Christopher Villiers), they must break into the high-security prison where Dr. Paul is being held.
Top Secret! is a film of such effortless hilarity, it's a wonder how and why the three directors behind it parted ways and made such drivel as Jane Austen's Mafia! (1998), Rat Race (2001) and Scary Movie 3 (2003), highlighting just how much they needed each other. It offers near to non-stop sight-gags that vary from the inspired (a train station pulling away from the train) to the downright ridiculous (a character gets crushed in a car then is seen later with his arms and legs sticking out of it, still alive), nearly all of which hit the mark. But there's also clever word play, and that lost art - embracing the stereotype. Would a film nowadays get away with calling it's only black character Chocolate Mousse?
There are literally too many funny scenes to mention, but the one that had me in stitches is the scene in which Nigel and Du Quois (Harry Diston) dress up as the rear and front of a cow, when a real cow comes to suck on its udders, much to the pleasure of Nigel. They stop, with Du Quois insisting they make haste, and Nigel replies "you're always in such a bloody hurry!". It's marvellously old-school, headed by a wonderful performance from Kilmer, who as well as getting plenty of belly laughs himself, also proves himself to be a bloody good dancer in the few performance scenes he has. But it is also a sad reminder of just how good this sub-genre used to be.
There were two main prevailing themes in 1980's Hollywood action cinema. One was the still prominent cold war, and secondly was the repositioning of the Vietnam war, where the domination of American warfare was scarred by its defeat. Missing in Action takes the latter theme, with Chuck Norris's Col. James Braddock, only a year out of a POW camp. Taken to Vietnam to either apologise for his war crimes during the war, or to get an apology for being held prisoner (it's not ultimately clear - unless I had already lost interest within the first reel), Braddock leaves his guarded hotel to get information from General Trau (James Hong) about other soldiers missing-in-action. Their presence is inevitably denied as unfounded.
Action cinema certainly took liberties with the Vietnam defeat, giving the war an almost revisionist interpretation. By stating within the context of the film (the basic plot would be retraced a year later in Rambo: First Blood Part 2 (1985)), that Vietnam still hold many Vietnam vets imprisoned, Hollywood cinema is essentially stating that their defeat is justified as this race is barbaric and inhumane. Braddock eventually teams up with ex-soldier friend - and comic sidekick - Jack Tucker (M. Emmet Walsh) in Singapore. They somehow have thousands of dollars to spend on high-end military equipment, designed specifically for the needs of their eventual plan.
Without humour, and with no tongue in any way near the cheek, the one-man army of Norris saves a bunch of POW's, bringing the inhumanity of the Vietnam government into disrepute. Missing in Action is a generic piece of action cinema, with a low-rent action hero. This prisoner-of-war rescue was so ubiquitous to the "war" film elements, and a way in which to recover America's damaged collective consciousness. Gung-ho had to return. As with all the action stars of the decade, the hard body was an important component to their raison-d'etre, and Norris can be horrifically spotted aimlessly walking around bland rooms, his shirt either open or completely off, revealing his gorilla-like torso.
It dawned on me whilst watching this trash-action, that Chuck Norris was an action hero out-of-place. He appeared to me to be more of a 1970's television hero, such as Lee Majors or Gil Gerard. Then I remembered that he ending his career in the world of television, with the long running series, Walker: Texas Ranger (1993 - 2001). Fundamentally Chuck Norris has become a bigger cult than his "acting" output, but aside from the gratuitous chest-baring, I found his presence in this throw away action film quite endearing. Norris seems to take these cinematic films of explosions very seriously, a relic of the '70's next to the wisecracking, tongue-in-check machismo of the bigger (both in box-office and girth) '80's stars of the genre.
Based upon British bondage photographer and illustrator John Willie's 1950's and '60's fetishist character in the 'Sweet Gwendoline' comics, this French adaptation, vies more towards the adventure iconography of contemporary action cinema, than the Betty Page inspired submission-and-BDSM. Of course, the Gwendoline of the film does often - like the comic character - become tied in bondage (captured), but is not as sexualised, or eroticised - in the first two thirds at least. The film opens in China, and Gwendoline (Tawny Kitaen) has smuggled herself in a cargo case, - strangely her companion, Beth (Zabou), has not smuggled herself, leading to a questionable customs system - and has travelled in search of her father, who had been searching for a rare butterfly, in the mysterious region known as Yik Yak.
After being caught and bound by locals, she is inadvertently saved by American adventurer (in the vein of Indiana Jones), Willard (Brent Huff), a seeming misogynist rouge. Employing him as a guide, the three protagonists head for the land of the Yik Yak, in search of her father, and the mythical insect. After encounters with primitive tribes, and the inevitable capture-and-binding, the team enter a cave, that leads to a subteraenean world, where only women stay, mining for diamonds. Willard is used as a sex object, as several women fight to the death for the chance to be impregnated by him - and his death would be the inevitable end, after doing his duty.
The film has been often compared to Raiders of the Lost Ark (1981) and Barbarella (1968), and it certainly shares the latter's kitsch styling's. Luckily, considering the awful delivery of dialogue, and often terribly cliched lines, the film has it's tongue firmly lodged in it's proverbial cheek. However, this does not save it from coming across as crass, juvenile nonsense. In the subterranean world that the narrative climaxes in, it's iconography is filled with scantily clad, leather-bound women, which is a simple attempt at titillation - quite literally.
Directed by Just Jaeckin (a name that seems like a farcical mock - as in "just joking" pronounced in an Edinburgh accent) who previously had international attention with erotic hits, Emmanuelle (1974) and The Story of O (1975), he seems out of place in this fantasy adventure context. The saccharine relationship that develops between the male and female leads is horribly infantile, but as I previously said, this may be intentional, as the film makers may even have contempt for this kind of genre film - this is speculation. However, even if the "humour" was intentional, humorous is ain't, and simply comes across as callow and immature - and mostly seems like an excuse to show some tits.
The work of prolific Italian director Lucio Fulci is most notable for his output in the horror genre, where he made some genuinely good films, such as The Beyond and The House by the Cemetery (both 1981), and some not-so-good, yet still fondly remembered, such as Zombie Flesh Eaters (1979). His entries into sci-fi are somewhat less well-remembered, which is almost a shame, as this, Warriors of the Years 2072 (also known as New Gladiators) is at least an intriguing idea. Set in a future where TV corporations seem to rule, airing gladiatorial battles in order to boost ratings, popular champion of the intelligently named Kill Bike, Drake (Jared Martin), has been framed for murder in order to lure him into a new to-the-death game show. Sensing the audience are desperate for blood and death, the ruthless TV network plan to set a band of Death Row prisoners against each other in a motorbike battle, complete with nasty weapons.
It plays like an earlier cheap version of The Running Man (1987), but with cardboard sets, dodgy costumes, and the guy that played Black Caesar. This is a pretty terrible film. The obvious budgetary constraints lead to a very slow build up that sees Drake planning and training with his new Death Row colleagues for a long time before we get to the climax. That said, when the finale does finally arrive, it's actually pretty exciting given the actors are clearly waving plastic weapons and merely karate chopping each other on the back of the head (which seems to be the standard exploitation fight move). Fulci seems unable to resist throwing in a splash of gore any chance he gets, which makes it obvious as to where his heart really lies. Sci-fi is not his forte, and it's clear that this was a quickie. But there are a few things to enjoy here, namely the basic idea which is, as I said earlier, although badly executed, is certainly quite interesting.
So, OK; It's another Messiah story! These films are so overly present in the history of science-fiction/fantasy films. Even in the last decade or so we have seen these films being constantly produced (see The Matrix (1999) or Avatar (2009) as just two recent examples). It's the narrative of a young man, who progresses through a story to become the legendary myth of a person embodied as the saviour for an entire race, universe, galaxy... However, if we move back to 1984, the Hollywood film industry was still trying to capture that cash-cow essence of Star Wars (1977) and it's celebrated special effects, and it's fantasy setting. Therefore, any project that had space-ships, monsters etc were being made regardless of their relationship to the "kids" film. Dune, based on the epic and elaborate novel by Frank Herbert, is a very complex piece of cinema, that baffled many audience's and critics alike (I personally can't see that it is confusing at all). But then, if we look at the majority of the genre films made at the time, we can see how it could be see as perplexing next to the generic, simplistic stories being told. Inevitably, the film was a major flop, and with the $40 million budget, practically bankrupted 20th Century Fox, and also (thankfully) convinced director David Lynch to never work on a big budget, Hollywood-funded film again, and due to his contract with Dino De Laurentis, he was able to make his masterpiece, Blue Velvet (1986).
Dune is a narrative of warring planets, and the machinations of the politics that rule the galaxy. Dune is a desert planet that has never seen water, and on this planet is a substance called spice melange, that is the most important essence in this world. Whoever controls the spice controls the universe. The spice enables a means of travel without moving; it has the ability to fold space, and also expands consciousness. The main warring "houses" are of the Atriedes and the evil Harkonnens. Paul Atriedes (Kyle MacLachlan) is the son of Duke Leto (Jurgen Prochnow), and his mother Lady Jessica (Francesca Annis) who is a member of the Bene Gesserit, a race of women who are able to read minds and control the minds of others. With his royal connections, Paul is held in high regard. But as the story progresses it is clear that there is more to this boy that was first expected. After a conspiracy to create a war between the Atriedes and Harkonnens, Paul and his mother are left stranded on the planet Arrakis (also known as Dune), where the prophecy of the saviour and the dreams that Paul had been haunted by, comes to pass.
Whilst the films narrative complexities are difficult to concisely lay down the full story, the essence is very simple. It is incredible that Lynch's screenplay managed to deal with Herbert's book, which is incredibly sprawling, but he managed admirably. The sets and costumes for the film are incredible, and even today (and after seeing the films several times) I am amazed at the look of the film. The costumes and props are incredibly eclectic - we have iconography from all over the place: Victorian austerity, 1930's telecommunications items, Nazi-style uniforms, and elaborate baroque back-drops. OK, so many of the special effects are incredibly dated, and others seem to have been cobbled together at the last moments on a shoe-string budget, but this does not hinder the experience of the film. Produced at a time when complex genre films were simply not being made, it is a film to watch several times, which reveals more each time. It was a project that was always going to be difficult to produce, with two other notable directors being previously attached to the film (Ridley Scott and Alejandro Jodorowsky - wish the latter happened with the proposed cast of Salvador Dali and Orson Welles, and music by Pink Floyd), it's amazing the film was made at all, and I salute Lynch for an admirable, often visually beautiful, and delightfully complex film, that I love more each time I see it.
The film also has an incredible supporting cast (Brad Douriff, Jose Ferrer, Patrick Stewert, Max Von Sydow, Dean Stockwell, to name a few), and there are very Lynchian elements that delight me every time. I mean, where else in Hollywood genre cinema would you see the main villain of the piece, Baron Vladimir Harkonnen (Kenneth McMillen) having his face injected with diseases by his personal doctor?
The early 1980's were an furtive time for American genre cinema. Of course Steven Spielberg had his hand in most of those pies, with his name emblazoned above all the film titles. Whilst this is particularly annoying, the fact of the matter is, he did get some great projects made, such as Poltergeist (1982) and Back to the Future (1985) et al; plus a little gem of a horror-comedy written by then unknown, Chris Columbus and directed by Roger Corman luminary Joe Dante: Gremlins. As with many of the genre films made at the time, their influence of 1950's science fiction was obvious (and of course the film makers of the time would have grown up in the first decade of the popularisation of television). And Gremlins is no different, with a range of references, blinding obvious. In two scenes for example, we see on television screens, two iconic movies from the past, It's a Wonderful Life (1946) and Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1956): The former film is represented by the picture postcard image of wholesome Americana - a Norman Rockwell painting showing a quaint little "village" square. Kingston Falls is the setting, and the time of year is Christmas.
The story is a simple tale of a father, Rand Peltzer (Hoyt Axton) purchasing something "different" for his son, Billy (Zach Galligan). On his travels as an inventor and salesman, Rand stumbles across a small basement shop in Chinatown, where he buys an unknown species of animal, the overwhelmingly cute Mogwai. However, the "pet" comes with three very important rules: Never expose him to light, especially sunlight; never get him wet; and never feed him after midnight. Unfortunately, two of these rules are broken in a series of misdemeanours, and eventually unleash the anarchistic monsters of the films title. Of course the idea of a gremlin is no new thing, as is stated by Mr Futterman (played by Dante regular, and always brilliant, Dick Miller), the gremlin was a creature that had a fetish for interrupting the workings of technology during World War II. In fact the first recorded use of Gremlin was in a 1929 poem written for the men of the Royal Air Force stationed in Malta. But I digress.
Needless to say, once the gremlins are unleashed - led by Stripe - the quiet town is turned into chaos, disrupted beyond belief of Christmas Eve. The scaly green monsters cause car accidents by tampering with traffic lights; the local property owner and general icon of evil, Mrs Deagle (Polly Holliday), the seasons Scrooge in female form, is sent flying out of her window on a chair lift. You get the idea. The job of thwarting the monstrous tykes is left to Billy, Gizmo (the Mogwai - as if you didn't know!), and Kate, Billy's new girlfriend (played by the stunning Phoebe Cates).
Released on the same weekend as another '80's comedy classic, Ghostbusters, the film became a bit of an issue. Here was a Christmas film, like Ghostbusters, that mixed comedy with horror, but was packaged as a kids film. The massive campaign of merchandising was everywhere. From cuddly toys to Pez dispensers, every kid was able to participate in the ideas of the film. In America, the film was released in the equivalent PG rating, causing problems when young children saw it. This film eventually led to the MPAA (The Motion Picture Association of America) created the PG-13 rating. In the UK the film was released as a 15; therefore, I was unable to see the film at the cinema (you can't imagine how badly I wanted to see it, after all as an 8 year old, seeing the trailers on TV, there were little monsters in it!). And of course the BBFC (British Board of Film Certification) didn't act on this (despite a huge media frenzy), and would not create the 12 certificate until 1989's Batman.
The film could be read as American fear of "foreign" technology. The Mogwai/Gremlin do originate form China (how ironic they are soon to be the worlds super power), but the duality of a cute creature manifesting itself as a anarchic monster, is representative of that view of the orient: A seemingly traditional continent complete with archaic practises, that also produce some of the most advance technology around. Maybe too hard a pill to swallow from the land that brought us Hollywood!
I genuinely loved this film when I was a kid (I did manage to see it before the video release on a very bad VHS pirate video - shhh!), and I have to say that it has not lost any of it's charm, humour, and fun. The film holds so many iconic images probably for most of my generation. Well, we did collect the stickers to complete the Panini album. And the sweets; the dolls; the T-Shirts etc, etc etc..... Excellent Christmas fare!
New York 1982: So the films first title card states. In a previous review I had expressed my love for the aesthetic of "The Big Apple" in the 1970's and early 1980's. This documentary is expressive of the artistic movement of the time. Poverty and degradation always produces great art and movements that alter popular culture. And it all begins with the underground: or the Subculture. In the late '70's, punk erupted from the Bowery, and in the Bronx came a series of artistic movements that eventually changed the world. From the ghettos hip hop was formed, along with the expressive street dance known as break dancing, which was developed from new, "mixed" beats, and along with this subcultural street form came graffiti. This was a completely new form of expression when this film was produced, but watching this now conjures much more.
In the 21st century we have seen the rise of British graffiti artist Banksy, who has essentially revolutionised the form. Still keeping the allure of the artist-as-criminal (in the sense that he has never revealed his identity), Banksy commands millions of pounds/dollars for each piece that he has created. This year in his home town, Bristol, there has been a local government commission of graffiti that even extends into a piece sprayed on to a police station. This is a far cry from the criminality that graffiti held when this film was made. It's incredible that a major part of this once subculture now has become a part of the prime-time television that many watch today. The main thing I am thinking of here is the "street" dance group that was Diversity, who was successful on Britain's Got Talent. This would not have happened had it not been for the ghettos of New York's developing "breakin'". (as a side note, in 1984, the break dance movement was inevitably abused for a Hollywood movie, Breakin' (or as I remember it, Breakdance the Movie (1984)).
We follow in this film several, very young artists, who are incredibly passionate about their art. They are also very articulate. At various times we are shown the creation of pieces that clearly show that these are not random acts of vandalism, but are in fact carefully planned works of expression. As they outline the wall-art, they hold paper sketches that have been planned before "hitting the streets". As the graffiti was never going to be a permanent thing, these artist were smart enough to photograph most of what they created, which shows that they were aware of it's value. Without this much of these would be lost.
Of course, just like any art form the quality is varied. But like all art, it is totally subjective. One persons art is another persons idea of the demise of civilisation. The New York art scene did, very early on, embrace this as a form of art, but it was still seen (and to be fair, largely still is) as vandalism. Pop art had previously revolutionised the art world in the 1960's in New York, particularly with Andy Warhol, and he was one of the first to see that graffiti was an extension of this form. He took into his flock Jean-Michel Basquiat, who had started as a street artist, and was catapulted in the art world. Unfortunately his life was short-lived as he died of a heroin overdose in 1988.
The film does also highlight (however small it is) the opposite argument of the subject. The outcry of vandalism was palpable at the time. What is shown is the expensive process of the eradication of the "art". But this is less interesting than the world of these artists, who are absolutely involved in every part of these subcultural changes. Each are involved in the art, the dance and the music. On a personal level, I have always appreciated wall art. It certainly makes for more interesting sites on a train journey, when colourful, sometimes beautiful art, adorns the grey walls that line the railway lines. OK, so it's subjective. But then all art is.
The contemporary aspect of the film does highlight the absolute racism of this art form. We see young whites interviewed who participate in the work, who say that, whilst the paint used is expensive, it is so much easier for them to enter a shop and purchase $100.00 worth of spray cans, whilst their black and Puerto Rican counter-parts have much problems when doing the same thing.
A great piece of contemporary film making, that resonates with our 21st century life. Particularly when viewed with the popular success of our very own Banksy. Things may have changed, but street art is still a crime, simply as the general public cannot accept the difference between art that is displayed in galleries, and the art that we largely pass every day of our lives on our public walls (unless of course it has been authorised by the government).
George Lucas made a shrewd marketing move in the early eighties; changing the creatures to feature in 1983's Return of the Jedi from forest-dwelling Wookies, to small, cute and furry Ewoks. Lucas knew where the majority of his money was coming from: Merchandise. Ewoks were the cross-gender Star Wars 'commodity'. Figurines could be manufactured for the boys, so that they may interact with their existing toys; and a cuddly version could also be produced. However, after the release of Return of the Jedi, they no longer had a vehicle of promotion. So, Lucas pens "An Ewok Adventure" (story only), and cheaply produces a TV-movie.
Mace (Eric Walker), a mini-Skywalker, and his little sister Cindel (Aubree Miller), a sickening Curly-fucking-Sue, are stranded on the forest moon of Endor after their space cruiser crashed. Their parents Jeremitt (Guy Boyd) and Caterine (Fionnula Flanagan) have been kidnapped by the giant Gorax. The Ewoks discover the ship and take the kids back to their village. Eventually they join forces and form a quest to save the parents. This is aimed directly at kids of course. In 1985, both the "sequel" TV movie Ewoks: The Battle for Endor, and Ewoks: The Animated Series were produced, further exacerbating the kids "nag factor" element of toy marketing.
Oh, how times have changed! Well, I can certainly see this crass cash-in for what it is now that I'm a pseudo-adult. But at the age of 8, this was related to Star Wars. It could well have just been Chewbacca shitting in a basket (or even The Star Wars Holiday Special (1978)), but I would have loved it anyway. In hindsight, yes the Ewoks were rubbish anyway. But I admit this was not the case at the time (the shame!). What's even more shameful, is now that I've just watched it for the second time, I have now wasted three hours of my life on it. There are a few, good-for-the-time special effects. But this does not redeem a product of greedy capitalism.
Larisa is the last remaining singleton, and there's no shortage of suitors, despite the fact that she will come without a dowry. The richest merchant in town, Mokiy Parmenovich Knurov (Aleksey Petrenko), harbours strong feelings towards Larisa, but he is married and too old. Perhaps better suited is Larisa's childhood friend Vasiliy Danilovich Vozhevatov (Viktor Proskurin), but he is not quite rich enough to take a bride without a dowry. Yuliy Kapitonovich Karandyshev (Andrey Myagkov), a postman of low social status, is madly in love with Larisa, or perhaps with how such a beautiful woman will feed his ego. Yuliy frequents the parties thrown by Kharita in the hope of convincing her, but is usually left embarrassed or overshadowed by the more charismatic men at the events. Yet Larisa only has eyes for one man, the rich, handsome and exciting Sergei Sergeyvich Paratov (Nikita Mikhalkov), a travelling merchant who surrounds himself with music-playing gypsies who utterly adore him. After spending a wonderful evening together, Paratov suddenly sets sail without saying goodbye, leaving Larisa at the mercy of the increasingly obsessive Yuliy.
