Review #1,357: 'American Made' (2017)

The toothy, clean-cut charm of Tom Cruise seems like an odd choice for the role of notorious drug trafficker and CIA operative Barry Seal who, during the 1970s, flew copious amounts of cocaine from Central America to the United States, as well as running guns to the Nicaraguan Contras on behalf of the American government. But the Barry Seal of Doug Liman's American Made isn't that far from Top Gun's Maverick, and the comparison is hard to avoid when we see Seal cheekily entertaining himself at the expense of his passengers and co-pilot while on a routine flight for TWA. Cruise slides into the role comfortably, running with the movie's lightning pace and offbeat humour. But his involvement also highlights Liman and writer Gary Spinelli's reluctance to explore this true story - which had devastating consequences for all countries involved - in more depth.

Set during a time when men ruled the sky and air hostesses were expected to drop their skirts at the very sight of a uniform, pilot Barry Seal is somewhat frustrated with his comfortable life, making a bit on the side by smuggling cigars into the US. This illegal side business is what attracts the attention of a CIA agent calling himself Monty Shafer (a brilliant Domhnall Gleeson), who asks Seal to fly over Central America to snap pictures for the American government. Seal's photographs are about as perfect as Shafer could hope for, and so he is rewarded with his very own plane and hangar and promoted to collecting information from Manuel Noriega of Panama in exchange for cash. Soon enough he is transporting guns to the US-backed Contras, and attracting even more attention. Only this time it's from Jorge Ochoa (Alejandro Edda) and his volatile partner Pablo Escobar (Mauricio Mejia) of the Medellin cartel, who want Seal to fly massive amounts of cocaine to Louisiana.

With the CIA turning a blind eye to Seal's drug trafficking exploits, Seal rakes in so much money that he is forced to bury huge quantities in his yard. This rags-to-riches-to-rags story is told in a conventional, linear fashion, with Liman resisting any urges to go all Scorsese on the subject matter. This kind of true life tale is nothing new, but it is a tale worth telling, especially when you factor in the American government's role in the shady operations, who arguably gave birth to the kind of man Barry Seal went on to become. Despite baring absolutely no resemblance to the real Seal, Cruise proves to be a great host, recording his story to camera on a wonderfully shoddy VHS in the movie's only brush with narrative flair. The main issue with American Made is that it claims to have a mind-blowing story to tell, but anyone who has seen the dizzying documentary Cocaine Cowboys or Netflix series Narcos will possess more information about how deep this thing went than the movie actually reveals. It aims to tell an entertaining story, and it certainly does just that, but the fact that it refuses to fully explore the consequences of Seal's actions means that it can never be anything more.


Directed by: Doug Liman
Starring: Tom Cruise, Domhnall Gleeson, Sarah Wright, Jesse Plemons, Caleb Landry Jones
Country: USA/Japan

Rating: ***

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,356: 'Spider-Man' (2002)

While Bryan Singer's X-Men will always be remembered as the film that kicked off the superhero craze of the 2000s, it was Sam Raimi's Spider-Man that truly knocked it out of the park, both in terms of critical reaction to a genre often unfairly sneered at, and box-office returns. It broke the opening weekend record, surpassing that of the first Harry Potter film, going on to gross over $800 million worldwide. Every studio executive with the rights to a comic-book hero started to lick their lips, and the subsequent years was a mixed bag to say the least. For every X-Men 2 there was a Ghost Rider, and for every Batman Begins there was a Catwoman. Raimi's Spider-Man is still fondly remembered as one of the best during a frustrating time for comic-book fans, long before the Marvel Cinematic Universe raised the bar.

Nerdy young Peter Parker (Tobey Maguire) lives in a New York suburb with his Aunt May (Rosemary Harris) and Uncle Ben (Cliff Robertson). Next door is the object of his affection, the beautiful, red-haired Mary Jane Watson (Kirsten Dunst), but she's currently the arm candy of resident douchebag Flash Thompson (Joe Manganiello). The only person he can call a friend is Harry (James Franco), the son of millionaire Oscorp founder Norman Osborn (Willem Dafoe). Peter seems content with his position at the bottom of the school popularity hierarchy, until a visit to Oscorp sees him bitten by a radioactive spider. The bite grants him the power of super strength, agility and reflexes, as well as the ability to scale walls and fire webbing out of his wrists. But when Norman experiments on himself with a performance-enhancing drug after learning he is be ousted by the company board, he goes insane and dons a green goblin suit, reeking havoc on the city and its new hero, Spider-Man.

Spider-Man is now 16 years old, and is quite remarkable how well it has aged. Naturally, the special effects are now nowhere near as seamless as they once were, but the sight of Spidey swinging through the streets of New York with Raimi's gliding camera behind him is still a sight to behold. The technical aspects aside, Spider-Man still holds up because it takes its time to develop the characters and their relationships. Peter is certainly a bit of a cry-baby, but Maguire shares great chemistry with Dunst, and there's certainly an argument in favour of their iconic upside-down kiss being the most romantic moment in comic-book movie history. However, the film undoubtedly belongs to Dafoe, who hams it up to such extremes that it's almost impossible not to root for him, despite the shoddiness of his costume. Richard Donner's Superman is obviously the crown jewels when it comes to superhero origin stories, but Spider-Man isn't that far behind, paving the way for little B-list heroes such as Tony Stark to announce himself to the world. And we all know how that went.


Directed by: Sam Raimi
Starring: Tobey Maguire, Kirsten Dunst, Willem Dafoe, James Franco, Rosemary Harris, Cliff Robertson, J.K. Simmons, Joe Manganiello
Country: USA

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,355: 'The Iron Giant' (1999)

The roaring success of Disney's The Lion King (no pun intended) in 1994 inspired something of an animation boom, during which various production studios attempted to cash in on the trend to varying degrees of success. Warner Bros. Feature Animation had a moderate hit with Space Jam, but underperformed with the likes of Cats Don't Dance and Quest for Camelot. They had one bona fide hit with The Iron Giant, a truly wonderful little feature adapted from Ted Hughes' 1968 novel The Iron Man. It didn't leave much of a dent at the box-office, but found a loyal audience on home video. In the 19 years since its release, The Iron Giant is fondly remembered as one of best animated features of the 1990s, and saw director Brad Bird poached by a little up-and-coming studio called Pixar.

In the fictional town of Rockwell, Maine in 1957, the residents are busy gazing up at the sky in fear of the Soviet Union's satellite Sputnik spying on them, and school children are shown Duck and Cover style educational films to prepare for a nuclear attack. In the surrounding forest, a huge object crashes down to Earth, alarming local fisherman Earl (M. Emmet Walsh). 9 year-old Hogarth Hughes (Eli Marienthal) spends his nights watching cheesy sci-fi movies and dreaming of owning his own pet. His mother Annie (Jennifer Aniston) thinks they cause too much mess, a point that seems to be proven when young Hogarth accidentally releases a squirrel into the local diner. With his mother working late one night, Hogarth wanders into the woods and comes across the object Earl insists he saw: a giant alien robot (voiced by Vin Diesel) that enjoys munching everything from train tracks to the local power station.

This kind of allegorical coming-of-age tale has been done before (think E.T. but with an adorable weapon of mass destruction), but rarely with such charm and genuine emotion. It's influence can be felt in everything from the recent Pete's Dragon remake and A Monster Calls, and it's no surprise that the film continues to attract new fans. The Iron Giant questions what would happen if a gun could feel. The titular giant occasionally turns aggressive in the face of possible danger, as the alien's true purpose becomes increasingly and unnervingly clear. But with no memory of his mission, it's down to Hogarth to teach metal hulk kindness, and the youngster does so in a way that only an innocent could. A moment in the woods sees the unlikely friends come across the corpse of a deer. At first, the giant cannot comprehend death as he can regenerate, but Hogarth manages to teach him about the finality of death. It's incredibly powerful, and it's message is even more relevant today than it was almost 20 years ago. We all have choices in life, and sometimes simple human kindness and empathy can be infinitely more powerful than brute force.


Directed by: Brad Bird
Voices: Eli Marienthal, Jennifer Aniston, Harry Connick Jr., Christopher McDonald, Vin Diesel, M. Emmet Walsh, John Mahoney
Country: USA

Rating: *****

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,354: 'The Neon Demon' (2016)

The arrival of a new movie by Danish director and enfant terrible Nicolas Winding Refn is always a cause for excitement. Not because the filmmaker's name is any kind of guaranteed stamp of quality, but because of our natural curiosity to see just how far he is willing to push his audience. His 2011 smash and Hollywood breakthrough Drive was a surprise treat: a neon-lit journey into the underbelly of L.A. that featured a career-defining performance by Ryan Gosling. His follow-up Only God Forgives was a massive disappointment and received a near-universal panning, but there was enough style there to maintain the belief that Refn was still capable of delivering something special. Sadly his next film, The Neon Demon, is similarly hollow, kicking up such a stink at Cannes that it inspired mass booing, although just as many were cheering it.

Where the L.A. of Drive was dangerous and seductive, the City of Angels depicted in The Neon Demon is one cut straight from a glossy fashion magazine. Models are dolled up to look like corpses, staring dead-eyed into the lens as the shady photographer watches ominously. The city's latest arrival is porcelain-skinned beauty Jesse (Elle Fanning), who natural golden curls and cute nose draw jealousy from her cosmetically-enhanced rivals. She has just celebrated her 16th birthday, but a modelling agency talent spotter (played by Christina Hendricks) advises her to claim she's 19, should anybody ask. She soon catches the eye of some of the best photographers in the business, all of whom seems instantly enchanted by her looks and youth. As make-up artist Ruby (Jena Malone) puts it, Jesse just has that 'thing'. That thing is innocence, but such a quality cannot last in a cut-throat industry where models eat each other alive.

There's always been a grimy quality to Refn's movies, even in his most polished output. The Neon Demon is his closest brush with horror, and the director initially seems like the perfect fit for the genre. Yet this button-pushing slog will likely inspired yawns and frustration rather than gasps and shudders. It seems like Refn has a list of taboos he's eager to tick off his body of work, and The Neon Demon is happy to indulge in everything from necrophilia to cannibalism. It's a premise built on the flimsiest of metaphors, and the resulting message ultimately seems to be that some men are sleazy, women can be bitches, and the fashion world is vacuous and materialistic. Sub-plots are introduced, such as an incredibly dull love interest (Karl Glusman) and an unscrupulous motel owner (Keanu Reeves), but they lead nowhere and serve no real purpose to the story. It's provocative for the sake of being provocative, which wouldn't be a huge problem if the film wasn't so utterly ponderous. Like his fellow countryman Lars von Trier, Refn is eager to shock, but there can be little to no impact when there is a complete lack of substance.


Directed by: Nicolas Winding Refn
Starring: Elle Fanning, Karl Glusman, Jena Malone, Bella Heathcote, Abbey Lee, Keanu Reeves, Alessandro Nivola, Christina Hendricks
Country: Denmark/France/USA/UK

Rating: **

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,353: 'The Man Who Could Cheat Death' (1959)

Its 1890, and a mysterious hidden figure stalks the smoggy streets searching for his next victim. The atmosphere and imagery may bring to mind the crimes of Jack the Ripper, but the setting here is in fact Paris, although I'm convinced this opening was purposely designed to evoke the planet's most notorious serial killers. The Man Who Could Cheat Death is an early effort by Hammer Film Productions, based on the Barre Lyndon's play The Man in Half Moon Street, during the era when the famous British studio was emerging as the most popular name in horror, usurping Universal Studios, who dominated the genre during the 1930s and 40s. Hammer produced a different breed of horror, one that was ghastly and sexy, and audiences lapped it up. But this is one of the studio's tamest and most plodding efforts, despite the presence of Terence Fisher behind the camera and Christopher Lee in front of it.

The story surrounds sculptor, doctor and socialite Dr. Georges Bonnet (Anton Diffring), who we meet entertaining his dinner guests with the unveiling of his new work. Bonnet's model Margo (Delphi Lawrence) marvels at the magnificent bust, but the eligible bachelor is eager to rush everyone out of the door when attendees start asking about purchasing the works of art he never sells. Bonnet thinks he's alone, and opens a hidden safe containing a bubbling green liquid he seems incredibly desperate to drink. Only Margo has stayed behind and startles him. When she refuses to leave, Bonnet kills her, but not before his skin seems to age and his eyes are drained of colour. The good doctor is in fact 104-years old, and must drink the potion to maintain his youthful appearance. On the eve of undergoing vital surgery that will keep him young forever, his old friend Dr. Ludwig Weiss (Arnold Marle) reveals he has suffered a stroke, and will be unable to perform the operation. With the police on his trail and the potion running dry, Bonnet must find a new surgeon fast before his crimes against nature are uncovered.

The main problem with The Man Who Could Cheat Death is that any potential mystery to the story is blown by the film's very title. We know that Bonnet has somehow cheated death and that the green liquid must be the thing sustaining his power, so the majority of the running time is filled with inane conversations and philosophy 101. There's also a love interest in Janine (Hazel Court), Bonnet's beautiful former muse who appears to be dating stoic surgeon Dr. Pierre Gerard (Lee), although it's clear she only has eyes for the man who was sculpted her. It's a glorified cameo for Lee, who makes more of an impression with a relatively small role than Diffring manages as the lead, and it's easy to wonder how much better the film would have been with the roles reversed. With limited sets and a minuscule cast, Fisher seems happy to continue the aesthetic of the story's theatrical roots, and unwilling to embrace the potential hideousness of this part Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, part The Picture of Dorian Gray tale. It isn't the worst of Hammer's back catalogue, but it's a hell of a distance away from their best.

Directed by: Terence Fisher

Starring: Anton Diffring, Hazel Court, Christopher Lee, Arnold Marlé, Delphi Lawrence

Country: UK

Rating: **

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,352: 'Missing' (1982)

The Hollywood debut of Greek director Costa-Gavras caused quite a stir when it was released in 1982. Based on a true story, Missing is a damning condemnation of U.S. foreign policy, criticising their efforts to locate missing American citizen Charles Horman (John Shea) when he goes missing in 1973 Chile, as well as suggesting their direct involvement. The country had just experienced a military coup, and the new leaders have declared martial law, placing a curfew on the population under threat of death. The sound of machine-gun fire is commonplace, as are military raids on homes and the disappearance of thousands of citizens. Worst of all, bodies litter the streets, watched over by dead-eyed soldiers who seem to do as they please. Charles, a left-wing writer, has simply vanished, sucked up into a system of brutality. And nobody seems eager to find him.

We're with Charles for a long period before his disappearance, and Costa-Gavras keeps us just as much in the dark as his wife Beth (Sissy Spacek) and father Ed (Jack Lemmon), the latter arriving frustrated with the little progress his daughter-in-law has made. Their ideologies clash almost immediately. Beth is very much on board with her husband's politics, while Ed is a devout Christian scientist with complete trust in his country's Embassy's desire to locate a fellow citizen. The performances are genuine and heartfelt. The characters themselves are recognisable and relatable in an otherwise terrifyingly alien, oppressive world, which serves as a wake-up call to Ed, who would otherwise be eating breakfast at home oblivious to the plight of Chile's people. The most powerful moments of Missing involve Ed battling his way through waves of bureaucracy and the empty promises of diplomats.

Costa-Gavras manages to build an atmosphere of relentless tension in a place where failing to find yourself a taxi to make it home in time for the curfew could see you dragged away for execution. Yet this is built around Ed and Beth's difficult relationship, and the film emerges and ultimately triumphs as a thoroughly engaging character study rather than a political thriller. Tiny, throwaway moments hammer their struggle and mental anguish home, particularly a moment where Ed descends a set of stairs and, without realising it, starts to ascend the one opposite. It takes a moment before he realises, shakes his head, and turns around, and you really feel for the guy. Costa-Gavras deliberately infuses Missing with a sense of timelessness, failing to confirm the story's year and location, introducing the idea that this could be happening anywhere, at any time. Coups and dictators come and go, and the people suffer for it. Those who choose to ignore it may eventually become the cause.


Directed by: Costa-Gavras
Starring: Jack Lemmon, Sissy Spacek, John Shea, Melanie Mayron, Charles Cioffi
Country: USA

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,351: 'My Friend Dahmer' (2017)

The antics of serial killer Jeffrey Dahmer following his graduation from Ohio's Revere High School in 1978 does not make for pleasant reading. He was responsible for the mutilation and murders of 17 men and boys, with his activities including injecting hydrochloric acid in the skulls of some of his victims in an attempt to induce a zombie-like state, the collection of body parts, necrophilia, and cannibalism. When Dahmer was arrested in 1991, multiple severed heads were found in his apartment, as well as human organs in the freezer wrapped up like leftover take-away. Dahmer attended school with cartoonist John 'Derf' Backderf, and the two became friends. When Derf saw his old pal's face splashed across the pages of every newspaper in the country after his capture, he reflected on his school days, eventually penning the award-winning graphic novel My Friend Dahmer.

There's always a risk when dramatising the life of a serial killer of sensationalising the subject matter or, perhaps even worse, trying to make us feel sorry for them. Director and screenwriter Marc Meyers' adaptation of Derf's comic has no such interests, opting instead to keep the focus solely on Dahmer's experiences during his high school years and up to his encounter with a hitchhiker who would become his first victim just three weeks after graduating, in the hope of trying to understand what would drive a handsome young man to go on to commit such terrible and sickening crimes. Dahmer, played wonderfully by former Disney child star Ross Lynch, is strange and withdrawn when we first meet him. Of course, this is no different to any child who feels out of place or socially awkward, and deep down he desired affection or at least the next best thing, attention. He starts to cause scenes by pretending to be disabled, acting out in lessons or in the hallways until he establishes himself as class clown.

This attracts the attention of Derf (played by Alex Wolff) and his crew, who are looking to stir up some mischief before they finally graduate. They play on Dahmer's willingness to do just about anything for a giggle, egging him on to sneak into as many club yearbook photos as possible and doing his handicapped shtick on demand. It's funny at first, before becoming incredibly tragic, and his friends start to feel the same way. Dahmer's mental state isn't helped by the break-up of his parents, and is eventually abandoned by his mother at home, leaving the troubled boy to withdraw further into his darkest fantasies. My Friend Dahmer succeeds in trying to understand Dahmer's downfall and how such a fate may have even been avoided if events went a slightly different way. It doesn't attempt to explain it or, thankfully, excuse it, avoiding the biography trap of unrealistically portraying a defining moment that led to whatever deed or life they are famous, or infamous, for. It's all rather sad, but utterly engrossing. My Friend Dahmer is that incredibly rare thing: a very good serial killer biopic.


Directed by: Marc Meyers
Starring: Ross Lynch, Alex Wolff, Dallas Roberts, Anne Heche, Vincent Kartheiser
Country: USA

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,350: 'Cargo' (2017)

Cinema has been over-saturated with zombie flicks ever since Danny Boyle made them cool again with 2002's 28 Days Later, with everyone from small-time filmmakers hoping to make it in the business to huge production companies tackling the undead, all with varying, but mostly disappointing, results. Even the master himself, George A. Romero, with a new trilogy of apocalyptic horrors failed to manage to breathe any new life into the genre he practically created. But every now and then a film will come along with something new to say, or at least offer a fresh perspective, such as Sang-ho Yeon's Train to Busan from last year, which got by on pure adrenaline and a breakneck pace, as well as placing its characters in an interesting dilemma.

Like Romero's classic Dawn of the Dead, some zombie movies stride to explore deeper concerns. While Dawn made fun of our growing consumerist society, this new effort from directors Ben Howling and Yolanda Ramke, Cargo, turns its eye to white guilt and Australia's treatment of Aboriginals. The already sparsely-populated Outback may seem an odd setting considering the walking dead's real strength lies in their sheer numbers, but Cargo isn't interested in delivering a splatter-fest. Instead, the focus is on a much smaller scale, exploring this brutal terrain through the narrow eyes of a father, Andy (Martin Freeman), and his one year-old daughter. (Plot spoilers follow in the next sentence) After losing his wife, Andy is bitten early on, so he is forced to leave the comforts of the boat he and his family have been sailing on for what must be a long time, in search of a new guardian for his defenceless child.

The government has been nice enough to hand out preparation packs for the population, which include every from a manual to a countdown device to a handy suicide pack. The length of time a character takes to turn is normally decided by their role in the story or the pay packet of the actor, with anyone disposable becoming a rotting lump of gun/baseball bat/crossbow fodder in mere seconds, and those of any importance allowed enough time to say something profound or whisper goodbye to their loved ones before attempting to eat their face. Here, it's much clearer. Infection takes near enough 48 hours to completely take over, with uncontrollable fits and coughing up brown mucus all things to look forward to as your body gives way. On his trek, Andy encounters a young Aboriginal girl named Thoomi (a fantastic Simone Landers), who is on her own quest to locate her wandering dead father. Thoomi and her tribe believe that you turn when your soul is lost, but there are plenty still alive and kicking out there whose souls have long turned rotten.

The dark side of the human race is embodied by Vic (Anthony Hayes), a large, sweaty chap who scavenges whatever he can from the zombies, having executed them after luring them with human bait. Those humans are the Aboriginals, locked up in huge steel cages with fresh meat hung around them to generate a smell. One of these is Daku (the great David Gulpilil), and his tribe is out searching for him. There's a tendency to employ indigenous people to lament our lost spirituality, but here they are perhaps the only ones truly prepared for life without comforts or a large, connected society. As the rest of the world tears itself apart, they band together and welcome others. Cargo still occasionally revels in genre tropes, but carries them out effectively, and an earlier introduction for Thoomi would have done the film wonders. Overall, this is pretty stirring stuff with a strong performance by Freeman, who gets to flex his dramatic muscles for once. Cargo isn't scary because of the snarling zombies, but by playing with our concerns of our loved ones' survival once we are gone.


Directed by: Ben Howling, Yolanda Ramke
Starring: Martin Freeman, Anthony Hayes, Susie Porter, Simone Landers, David Gulpilil
Country: Australia

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,349: 'Cat-Women of the Moon' (1953)

The 1950s and early 60s produced countless low-budget sci-fi movies that depicted women as a strange and dangerous race who used their feminine wiles to lure poor unsuspecting men into their deadly traps. The Wild Women of Wongo and Mesa of Lost Women are two unfortunate examples, but none really come close to the shameless sexism demonstrated in Cat-Women of the Moon, which is surely one of the worst movies ever made. If you've ever seen the fantastic Mad Men and wondered whether or not the misogyny on show is as a little far-fetched, then think again. This is a movie in which the square-jawed hero flirts with the line "You're too smart for me baby, I like 'em stupid!", and the leading lady enjoys being man-handled by her colleague at every opportunity.

We open in space, with the crew of the first manned mission to the Moon waking up from some kind of dream state before they finally touch down at their destination. Even for a 1950s movie, the science is utter nonsense, with the cardboard-looking spaceship decorated with what looks like outdated military equipment and lots of pointless nobs and buttons. Things get even worse when navigator Helen (Marie Windsor) insists that they touch down on the dark side of the Moon, to which the crew agree to despite not having a clue what lies there. Helen is joined by captain Laird (a sozzled Sonny Tufts), saggy-faced, trigger-happy tough guy Kip (Victor Jory), young rookie Doug (William Phipps), and mustachioed engineer Walt (Douglas Fowley). After entering a dark cave, the crew soon discover that the air is in fact breathable, and press on to explore this strange new world. What mysteries lie in waiting for them?

Giant rubber spiders and women dressed in leotards, that's what! Yes, not only is the Moon populated with arachnids (what do they eat?), but its most intelligent inhabitants is an ancient civilisation of cat-women who dwell in their Aztec-like palace and posses the ability to teleport and transmit thoughts telepathically. They hope to steal the rocket and take over Earth, but this is all the film's way of warning men of the dangers of the opposite sex. The cat-women start to systematically seduce the men, even luring one with the promise of a mine full of gold, as well as poisoning Helen's mind with their seductive ways. I usually find movies as cheesy and poorly-made as Cat-Women of the Moon amusing and oddly charming, but I became increasingly angry as the painfully long 64 minutes dragged by. It is the cinematic equivalent of calling a female work colleague 'sugartits' or patting their behind as they wait at the photocopier. On top of this, the rest of the film is so inept that its offensive for a completely different reason. It's no surprise that director Arthur Hilton never made another feature after 1953.


Directed by: Arthur Hilton
Starring: Sonny Tufts, Victor Jory, Marie Windsor, Susan Morrow, Douglas Fowley, William Phipps
Country: USA

Rating: *

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,348: 'Red State' (2011)

By 2010, even die-hard followers of writer/director Kevin Smith were starting to think he'd lost the plot. After a string of flops and outright disasters that included the likes of Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back, Jersey Girl and Cop Out (although Zack and Miri Make a Porno was pretty good), it looked as though the comic-book enthusiast was half-arsing it, and was never going to reach the dizzy heights of his earlier output like Clerks and Chasing Amy. It was perplexing, as anybody who has ever heard his podcasts or any of his impassioned Q&A sessions will know Smith as a highly intelligent and articulate guy with a real knowledge of his craft. But he hit back at his doubters in 2011 with Red State, a horror/thriller with a stellar cast and a real buzz surrounding it (generated by Smith's self-promotion). The result was still divisive among critics and audiences, but it managed to win back the faith of those who felt that Smith was one of the defining directors of the 1990s, as well as winning some new fans in the process.

The horror in Red State comes from fire-and-brimstone preacher Abin Cooper (Michael Parks), the leader of the Five Points Trinity Church, a sort of Westboro Baptist Church-style hate mob who picket the funerals of homosexuals. Meanwhile, a group of horny high-school boys arrange a date with a prostitute online, who will only agree to the hook-up if she can sleep with all three of them at the same time. Desperate to get their end away, they turn up at the trailer of Sarah Cooper (Melissa Leo), the bat-shit crazy daughter of Abin. They are drugged and taken away, waking up inside the Five Points Church just in time to witness the murder of a young gay man. He is bound to a cross in clingfilm while Abin spews hate speech, before being shot in the head and tossed down a trapdoor. It looks like we're in familiar territory as the boys try desperately to escape before they themselves are displayed in front of the wide-eyed congregation.

Only Red State takes a sudden tonal shift around the half-way mark, moving the action away from the captives and towards the efforts of ATF agent Joseph Keenan (John Goodman) - who is alerted to the Church's activities when a local deputy is shot dead - to diffuse a potentially catastrophic gun-fight akin to Waco. There are plenty of extremely interesting ideas Smith wants to explore here, but unlike his brilliant and elegant talks, he tackles them with a messy combination of violence and chaos. It's clear he's simply fed up with religious hypocrisy and the country's failure to tackle the problem, and you can certainly feel the anger, but you get the sense that the point could have been made with more care and restraint. In fact, the only sign of restraint he shows is at the climax, which is precisely the time he should have gone for broke. Still, Red State is enjoyable for what it is, and delivers a fair amount of surprises. Parks, who sadly passed last year, gives the performance of his career, truly relishing the chance to embrace his inner monster. Smith hasn't really kicked on from here, choosing instead to dabbled in television projects, but at least we know the Fatman still has it in him.


Directed by: Kevin Smith
Starring: Michael Parks, Melissa Leo, John Goodman, Michael Angarano, Kerry Bishé, Kyle Gallner, Nicholas Braun, Stephen Root, Kevin Pollak
Country: USA

Rating: ***

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,347: 'Three on a Meathook' (1972)

Like many grindhouse features from the 1970s, William Girdler's Three on a Meathook truly went for broke with its title, an eye-catching promise of blood, guts and mutilation to draw in a naive audience hoping for a terrifying time. What they got however, was two minutes of butchery thrown together with a $20,000 budget, followed by 80 minutes of melodrama with an uncomfortably drawn-out section dedicated to a naff rock band performing on stage. Three on a Meathook stays true to the grindhouse trend of failing to deliver on its enticing title, and instead treats us to a plethora of mannequin-like acting, dialogue no human has ever spoken before, and audio that sounds like it was recorded through a pillow.

Four attractive young ladies decide to go on a weekend trip to the lake, where they naturally embark on a bit of skinny-dipping and frolicking in the sun. Only little do they know, shy and handsome farmhand Billy Townsend (James Carroll Pickett) is watching them. Unfortunately for the girls, their vehicle breaks down on a country road, and it isn't too long until Billy's truck pulls up behind them to offer his services. He's no mechanic, so he instead provides a bed for the night at his farm. With his mother recently deceased, Billy lives alone his Pa (Charles Kissinger), who certainly isn't happy when he sees who his son has for company. It seems that Billy has a dark past involving women, and his Pa is quick to remind him of the dangers of having such a temptation in his very home. That night, the ladies are butchered one after the other: one is stabbed in the bath, two are shot, and the other has her head removed with an axe.

Horrified at what he doesn't remember doing, Billy takes a trip into the city to get himself together, where he meets beautiful barmaid Sherry (Sherry Steiner). Three on a Meathook blows its load way too early, focusing on the blossoming romance between the two youngsters after a violent opening twenty minutes, with Sherry proving to be one of the most unintentionally weird love interests in horror history. Not only does she bring home a drunk stranger muttering the words "I couldn't have done it," but sleeps naked beside him even after he wets the bed. The climax brings a twist that evokes the Ed Gein case, which seems to fit nicely with the creepy rural setting, but you'll be too beaten down by the tedium beforehand to care. Three on a Meathook isn't the worst example of the genre, but it will make you claw at your own face for the majority of its running time. Girdler would go on the direct the likes of Sheba, Baby and Grizzly.


Directed by: William Girdler
Starring: James Carroll Pickett, Charles Kissinger, Sherry Steiner, Madelyn Buzzard
Country: USA

Rating: *

Tom Gillespie

Review #1,346: 'Sleeper' (1973)

Viewing writer and director Woody Allen's early films in chronological order provides an interesting and traceable path from motor-mouthed clown to accomplished auteur, not only in terms of tone and subject matter, but also from a purely filmmaking point of view. He had tackled satire back in 1971 with Bananas, but really knew how make it work just two years later with Sleeper, one of his most popular films, and one of his last slapstick comedies before he moved on to maturer work like Annie Hall and Interiors, his love letter to Ingmar Bergman. Revelations concerning his private life continue to concern, baffle and appal, but if you can put these uncomfortable allegations aside (which is understandably a big ask for some people), there is still plenty to admire about Allen's contribution to comedy and cinema as a whole.

Sleeper concerns Miles Monroe (Allen), a jazz musician and owner of a health-food store who goes in for a routine surgical procedure only to be cryogenically frozen without his knowledge and revived some 200 years in the future. The world he wakes up to is one governed by a mysterious dictator known as 'The Leader', who runs the country like a police state, with every citizen numbered and monitored like something straight out a George Orwell novel. The doctors who bring him out of his frozen state do so illegally, in the hope that Miles' exclusion from the government's register will allow him to fly under the radar and assist with the revolution. But the authorities are soon onto the rogue doctors, and Miles must flee into the countryside and into a society he knows little about. Improvising, he disguises himself as a robot butler and falls into the home of narcissistic bohemian Luna (Diane Keaton).

Naturally, much hilarity ensues, with Allen embracing the physical comedy of silent greats Charlie Chaplin, Buster Keaton and The Marx Brothers, and dialling down his neurotic monologuing shtick. Luna prefers to remain ignorant at first, but after learning more from Miles, turns into full-on revolutionary. As with most comedies, some jokes fall flat, especially when Allen leans on the sexual humour such as the 'Orgasmatron', but this is probably Allen's funniest film, with the chemistry forged with Diane Keaton on the set of Play It Again, Sam effortlessly carrying over to into this. In fact, Keaton may even outshine her co-star. Her dialogue with Allen provides many opportunities for their ideals and social attitudes to clash, and as both characters grow, Sleeper serves up some surprisingly philosophical insights. Big Brother is indeed watching, and although this is a world full of buffoons easily distracted by Miles' shenanigans and the technology proves just as unreliable as it is today, its a pretty horrific place to be.


Directed by: Woody Allen
Starring: Woody Allen, Diane Keaton, John Beck, Mary Gregory, Don Keefer
Country: USA

Rating: ****

Tom Gillespie