byght Reviews

Señorita Justice (2004 Video)

Just what the doctor ordered

[2/10 · 29 November 2004]

It had been a good, long time since me and my high school buddies sat down to a righteously awful straight-to-video flick. This confused mess fit the bill and then some.

Try to picture a sort of Pam Grier-type exploitation movie but with Cuban Americans and production values that make you wonder if they just strung three episodes of an ethnic soap opera together, and you have some idea what this is like.

With dozens of goofy montages and instances of recycled footage, it has to have more padding than any 80 minute movie I've ever seen. The action sequences are edited badly (tons of dissolves a la "John Carpenter's Vampires"), choreographed worse (looks like they got the guy that did "Mighty Morphin Power Rangers"), and performed horrendously. The ladies are gorgeous, the guys are cheesy and sleazy--pretty much all the prerequisites are met for a raucous evening in front of the tube with friends and beer. Lots of beer. Check it out!

The Magnificent Seven (1960)

About as good as remakes get

[9/10 · 18 October 2004]

I recently subjected "The Magnificent Seven" to just about the toughest test imaginable--I watched it just a few days after "Seven Samurai." And while I'm not going to pretend it's on par with Kurosawa's astounding masterpiece, I have to tip my hat to Hollywood on this one: it's good, DAMN good, among the best American Westerns.

The focus of the screenplay is more on post-Bogart-pre-Eastwood cool banter than the gradual, taciturn character development of "Seven Samurai," but that doesn't mean that the film doesn't have a heart. Considering it clocks in at barely over two hours (compared to the marathonic three and a half of "Samurai"), it actually does a fantastic and very economical job of fleshing out its memorable cast of characters.

One particularly wonderful scene that stuck in my memory from the first time I saw the film ten years ago is the one where Lee (Robert Vaughn), drunk in the middle of the night, confesses his frailties and fear to two of the farmers. The scene (along with the general story of these down-and-out heroes) was groundbreaking in that it began the deconstruction and deromanticization of the Western hero which would be brought to fruition in Sergio Leone's unparalleled spaghetti Westerns.

The star-studded cast wouldn't hold up doing Shakespeare, but they're ideal in this gunslinging, cool-talking tough-guy adventure. As if a lineup of heroes that included Yul Brynner, Steve McQueen, Charles Bronson, and James Coburn wasn't enough, Eli Wallach steals the show as the Mexican bandit chief, a worthy precursor to his classic role "The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly." If the screenplay has a major flaw, it's that his character isn't featured more.

The score is, of course, one of the all-time classics. And while not as alive visually as the Japanese film that inspired it or the Italian Westerns it influenced, it's still mighty fine to look at, and the gunfights don't disappoint.

The pieces add up to one of the great entertaining films of all time, which still manages to be moving and morally aware despite its Hollywoodization of Kurosawa's vision.

Seven Samurai (1954)

Stunning--a movie to end all movies

[10/10 · 7 October 2004]

"Seven Samurai" is not properly an epic. It does not cover any great distances (perhaps a few dozen miles, at most), or stretches of time (maybe a month), and its climactic battle features perhaps sixty to eighty people--it's a positively modest production when compared with other three-hour affairs such as, say, "Gone with the Wind" or "Spartacus."

But there is one dimension, at least, in which Akira Kurosawa's opus approaches the epic scope: it leaves no corner of the human spirit or the human condition unexplored. The film is, simply, what it is to be human, in its entirety: courage, fear, love, hate, lust, cruelty, kindness, cameraderie, greed, selflessness, sorrow, laughter. This tale of farmers, bandits and warriors is really a story about all of us--the downtrodden, the wicked and the noble.

Very, very rarely, if ever, has a film had such a complete, unerring, and successful devotion to the reality of its characters. And what characters they are--particularly Toshiro Mifune's unforgettable noble savage, Kikuchiyo, and Takashi Shimura's wise and gentle leader, Kambei.

I almost feel as if there's nothing to say--deeply insightful, profoundly moving, beautifully made, unfailingly entertaining even with it's 200+ minute running time--a magnificent film, a PERFECT film, perhaps the greatest ever made.

From Here to Eternity (1953)

A different kind of war movie

[9/10 · 4 October 2004]

For the first couple acts of "From Here to Eternity," you may wonder, justifiably, what the film is getting at. We all know the planes are on the way, but the film takes its time detailing the alternate drudgery and revelry of Army life in peacetime Hawaii. Company politics, love affairs, drunkenness, grudges--it's not that it's boring, because it's actually pretty effective drama. But it does seem petty given the impending disaster. I kept returning to the same thought--"This is very good, but not all-time great."

Ultimately, though, the point becomes clear. This is not a story about war at all, but about people. It does not treat Pearl Harbor as a monolithic tragedy, but rather a myriad of little individual tragedies, forgotten by history but no less significant.

The time spent on character development pays off. The film's final act is deeply moving, and communicates a profound and lasting statement about war. I was wrong--it IS an all-time great film, and one of the best examples of how a film can be more than the sum of its parts.

It's well-documented, also, that this is one of the great casts of all time.

Oscar nominees Montgomery Clift and Burt Lancaster are superb in their leading roles as apparent opposites--the rebel and the good soldier--who turn out to be kindred spirits. The young and gangly Frank Sinatra is funny and bursting with energetic charisma in his Oscar-winning character role, and Donna Reed (another Oscar-winner) shows us some stunning moments of desperation and passion. Did I mention Deborah Kerr and Ernest Borgnine?

Highly recommended--9 out of 10.

It's a Mad Mad Mad Mad World (1963)

Screwball epic

[7/10 · 29 September 2004]

It's hard to call to mind a comedy as massive in scope as "It's a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World," because there aren't any. Even "Dr. Strangelove," where the fate of the world hangs in the balance and several plot lines unfold, seems restrained compared to this sprawling but light-hearted showbiz extravaganza.

Starring everyone, featuring everything, unfolding more or less in real time, and clocking in at an absurdly overlong 161 minutes in the restored version (still short of the incomprehensible 188-minute original cut), "IAMMMMW" is Hollywood at its most...well...Hollywood. It makes "Cannonball Run" look like "Annie Hall."

But Hollywood excess from 1963 tastes a lot sweeter and more wholesome than Hollywood excess from today, and it's hard to imagine anyone not enjoying the razor-sharp comic performances (especially from Ethel Merman), the spectacular chase/race sequences, the ditzy slapstick, and the general sense of goofiness.

It's so entertaining I'd probably vote it an 8 if it were, say, two or two-and-a-quarter hours. But the sheer length causes it to drag heavily for a while after the intermission (YES! INTERMISSION! IN A COMEDY!) before it picks up for the climax, bringing it down to a strong 7 (7.5, maybe?). Whatever you want to grade it, it's an absolute must-see.

Braveheart (1995)

Unremarkable, shallow epic

[5/10 · 24 September 2004]

Why this passable but completely forgettable film has apparently garnered a reputation as a classic in the last decade is beyond me. There's really not much to write home about here.

There's no complexity or levels or anything, just good vs. evil, fight fight fight, freedom freedom freedom. Gibson, of course, is as limited an actor as he's ever been. His corny pre-battle speeches have become wildly popular, to the point where you might be fooled into thinking they constitute great moments in cinema, but in actuality they're somewhere above Bill Pullman in "Independence Day" and below Al Pacino in "Any Given Sunday" on the scale of dramatic pep talks. And in case you're wondering, no, that's not a prestigious slot to be in.

I'm not trying to say it's unwatchable like "The Patriot" or anything--it's OK. Probably about as good as, say, "Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves." But I don't think anyone who's seen a real epic with real actors would consider it anything special. This is a classic example of how the Oscars can inflate the reputation of undeserving movies in weak years (see also, "Gladiator, The").

Serpico (1973)

A triumph of naturalism

[8/10 · 20 September 2004]

Holding a mirror up to the world is not the primary mission of a film. Indeed, for the vast majority of movies, the goal is not reality at all, but heightened reality, or a focus on some aspect of reality. When it comes to film, the majority of stories are best told this way.

But there are some stories that are best told in as real and natural a manner as possible. The true story of New York cop Frank Serpico's battle against the corruption that permeated the NYPD in the late '60s and early '70s is just such a story.

Everything about "Serpico" feels 100% real and authentic. The superb naturalistic acting, the lifelike dialogue, the frank and unstylized violence, the unobtrusive direction, the lack of flashy edits or music. Perhaps most challenging of all for the seasoned American moviegoer is the fact that the story unfolds naturally, too. It moves gradually and meanders often. Characters hesitate, are indecisive and sometimes don't do what we expect. And the movie moves at their pace and in their direction--not that of a director, screenwriter, or audience. Just like real life.

So, while slow and less than impactful at points, "Serpico" is as honest and complete a character study as you're ever likely to come across--tailor-made for an actor's actor like Pacino, whose range, presence, and penchant for nuance has never been better utilized. If you want a movie that makes you feel like you were there at a particular time and place with a particular person, "Serpico" is it.

It also bears mentioning that Pacino-as-Serpico is just about the coolest-looking protagonist in film history. Might be my Halloween costume this year...

Resident Evil: Apocalypse (2004)

So stale it crumbles

[3/10 · 13 September 2004]

You know that moment in every action or horror movie when the baddie is just about to kill, maim, bite, or otherwise put the hurt on a sympathetic character, when another, unseen sympathetic character shoots/stabs/whatevers the baddie in JUST the nick of time? "Resident Evil: Apocalypse" is an entire film based around just repeating that moment again and again and again. Each time, the director (who's somehow less famous and reputable than Paul W.S. Anderson, if that's conceivable) honestly seems to expect us to react to it, which borders on insulting. While it's not the worst movie of the year ("Day After Tomorrow" and "AvP" have it beat, while "Chronicles of Riddick" has it just about even), it's easily the most repetitive, predictable and stale--pretty much every shot or sequence you see is blatantly ripped off from some other movie.

If there is a redeeming quality to this movie, it's the nice assortment of surprisingly subtle visual references to the classic "Resident Evil 2" video game, on which it is loosely based. Unfortunately, the movie seems to have abandoned that great game's penchant for eerie atmospheric thrills in favor of constant, ridiculous action. Making an action movie out of "Resident Evil 2," a game firmly routed in the cinematic traditions of horror, is akin to making a horror movie out of "Virtua Fighter"--it's just the wrong idea.

Though they may draw similar audiences, horror and action actually aren't all that compatible, and nothing drives that point home like sitting through this movie. It sacrifices scares for explosions, atmosphere for flashy edits, and human fear for superhuman kung fu heroics. The constant use of the aforementioned just-in-time device is an attempt to artificially inject some real fear and tension, but it fails because of its predictability.

I'd compare this to the first "Resident Evil" film if I could remember anything about it besides Milla's brief nudity. This film, thankfully, seems destined to fade from memory just as quickly--leaving only fleeting glimpse of Milla's goodies behind.

Racket Girls (1951)

Magnificent, just magnificent

[1/10 · 10 September 2004]

There couldn't be more perfect MST3K fodder if Mike and the Bots directed it themselves. Lame and directionless plot, unapologetic and endless reuse of footage, molasses-in-January pacing, production values that would make Roger Corman wince, gratuitous sexuality from intensely unsexy women, ultra-doofy characters...oh yeah, and it's a SPECIAL INTEREST PICTURE ABOUT WOMEN'S WRESTLING IN THE FIFTIES.

Well, at least it starts that way. You will catch nary a glimpse of dull-witted, mammoth-chested "protagonist" (the movie doesn't really have one) wrestler Peaches in the closing act, as the screenplay (like a rambling, senile old man) has decided to focus its attention on the sleazy promoter and his downfall at the hands of a gangster scintillatingly named "Mr. Big." Thus, the film degenerates from campy fiftiesdom into grade-Z noir.

I bestow upon this picture the greatest of all honors--a 1 out of 10. Plenty of schlocky black-and-white pictures get compared to the illustrious Ed Wood's work--this is the rare one that actually merits the comparison. It's pure gold.

Reality Bites (1994)

Captures the era, but disappoints mightily

[6/10 · 2 September 2004]

*SPOILERS*

"Reality Bites" is one of the more unique viewing experiences I have had recently (just watching it for the first time yesterday, ten years after its release--it was one of those movies I was always just going to get around to seeing, and incredibly this took me a decade). I say unique because, while disappointment is certainly no stranger to the American film fan, it's a rare thing indeed when that disappointment extends to a sense of betrayal, even pain.

The film starts out loaded with promise. Snarky Gen-X college buddies Lelaina (Winona Ryder), Troy (Ethan Hawke), Vickie (Janeane Garafalo) and Sammy (Steve Zahn) have just graduated, hate their jobs, and are looking for direction in the directionless mid-'90s. Lelaina has started a documentary about the four of them in hopes of finding answers that way. Then she causes a stranger she initially mistakes for a yuppy (Michael, played by director Ben Stiller) to have a car accident, which leads to a sweet and very authentic romance. The whole film feels supremely natural from the get-go. The performances and characters are solid (aside from token gay buddy Sammy, who is a complete and utter tack-on) and the attitudes capture the era as well as the clothes and music.

Then, much to my chagrin, we are betrayed by Stiller and screenwriter Helen Childress on several fronts.

First, the movie almost abruptly stops being about youth and self-discovery and turns into a tired love-triangle story with the loathesome Troy making up the other leg of the tripod with Lelaina and Michael. Sure, I get it, the two of them represent the choices in life and direction that Lelaina must face. But I don't want these characters reduced to a cheap metaphor, especially when the metaphor crowds out a theme that could have been really meaningful to anyone who was young in the '90s. We never had our "Five Easy Pieces," sadly.

Secondly, and most grievously, Lelaina and the film choose terribly wrong. They choose Troy. And in doing so, "Reality Bites" makes the same sad mistakes that its generation did. It mistakes a goatee and a lock of hair over the eye for sincerity. It prizes immaturity, ego, pretension, self-absorption, inertia and tantrums over the honesty and humility of Michael. It's almost laughable when the massively phony Troy tells Lelaina, "I'm the only real thing you have." There's nothing real about Troy. There was nothing real about the legions of self-obsessed a**holes he represented.

Because Troy is so unlikable, the movie makes the unforgivably cheap move of killing off his unseen father about ten minutes from the end. This is supposed lend this vile human being some kind of worth in our eyes, I guess, but I didn't buy it for an instant. The orphan routine comes off as just another drama-queen ploy (successful, of course) to worm his way into Lelaina's pants. What really scares and even sickens me is that female viewers probably ACTUALLY SWOONED when Hawke delivered those maudlin final lines to Ryder--falling for the seduction of the worst aspects of that era...if this were an '80s movie, choosing Troy would be the equivalent of choosing the rich, yuppy jock.

Then, the worst betrayal of all, the movie completely abandons Michael, easily the best character (certainly the best person) in the film. He's not worth an ending, you see, because he has a clean-looking haircut and doesn't play acoustic guitar. Someone please give me a stiff drink so I can forget about this ending.

I'm angry enough to give this film a 3, but I figure anything that evokes so much feeling in me, even for the wrong reasons, has to be worth at least a 5. Great performances (Ryder, Garafalo and Stiller), superb and natural direction, some nice dialogue, and an overall sense of authenticity push it to a 6. But I'm hard-pressed to go beyond that for a movie that so completely and utterly fails to "get it," and in the process loses the opportunity to be a landmark film for my generation.

If you want something that actually deals with mid-'90s ennui in an unflinching manner and offers real insight, rent 1994's other slacker opus, "Clerks."

Run Lola Run (1998)

Skillful and energetic

[8/10 · 12 August 2004]

*SPOILERS*

While I thought there were some moments of Euro-pretentious excess in Tom Tykwer's high-concept cult favorite, I agree with most indie enthusiasts that it's pretty hard not to come away loving it.

It's an original but not entirely atypical '90s crime film infused with a huge shot of youth and energy, not to mention a fearless sense of style which tends to work in its favor more often than not. Think Tarantino and Ritchie collaborating on a movie in Berlin while flying on methamphetamine--sure to have some pratfalls, but who WOULDN'T want to watch it?

The stars of this picture live up to the hyperactive energy of their director. Franka Potente and Moritz Bleibtreu pull off an admirable feat--they endear their characters to us with almost no time allotted to catch their breath, let alone engage in what we would typically refer to as character development. We get to know and even love Lola and Manni on the run, as it were, and that speaks volumes to the commitment and charisma of these two young performers. (Not to mention their physical conditioning...I'd love to see some stats on how many miles Potente ran throughout the course of filming this picture.)

True to its Euro-artiness, "Run, Lola, Run" is just as fearless (and shameless) in its confrontation of philosophical issues as stylistic ones, even going so far as to have an opening sequence discussing the questions of man's existence. The whole film's rife with unapologetic symbolism, too (as opposed to Tarantino, whose symbols only really start to emerge after a couple of viewings), but I think you'll find that the overall charm and breathless earnestness will allow you to keep from rolling your eyes.

In fact, the movie does have a valid philosophical statement to make, albeit one I find troubling: life hinges on the smallest of things. Or, to put it less charmingly, our existence and its termination are determined by a myriad of tiny events, most of which are essentially happenstance. Yeah, like the chaos theory that we all learned in "Jurassic Park." (Should I get some kind of award for working "Jurassic Park" into a review of "Run, Lola, Run?" I think the answer is yes.)

It's not a pretty thought, but movies don't have to communicate pretty thoughts to be valid. Personally, though, I think the point would have been better made if the sequences were shown in reverse--with the first one working out just fine, the second one ending in Manni's death, and the third in Lola's. To me, a happy ending (such as it was) is somewhat of a stretch for a film communicating such a bleak message. Then again, perhaps Tykwer (like the security guard in the prologue) is simply saying to us, "Hey, it's what you make of it--it can be good or bad."

If I've made the film sound heavy-handed, I've done it a tremendous disservice. Whatever its other issues are, it's among the least boring movies you'll ever see in your life, and it is genuinely thought-provoking.

Predator (1987)

Solid, well-executed action film that continues to impress

[8/10 · 12 August 2004]

*Possible spoilers*

"Predator" is arguably the best of the '80s/early '90s action bonanzas. Well-conceived, psychologically taut, visually vibrant and deeply entertaining, it has aged remarkably well.

The direction, screenplay, special effects, and general production values of "Predator" are just as muscular and confident as its cast. Even when the movie slips into excess (which it frequently does, with gratuitous flexing, absurdly over-the-top firefights, and unabashed macho banter), it does so with such a boisterous swagger that you can't help but hop on for the ride. This is film-making at its most self-assured and unapologetic. Director John McTiernan has said he set out to make a classic popcorn movie, and he succeeded in spades.

The story is surprisingly thematically strong, and believe it or not, it owes that to the depth of Schwartzenegger's character--a monster-movie hero who's actually on par with the monster. Every action hero has to have his requisite humanizing moments--it's par for the course. Smiles at a kid, saves a puppy, blah blah blah. But Dutch's are more effective than any other instances I can think of because they are so believable and unforced. "I don't do this kind of work," Dutch says indignantly after he learns his team ("We are a rescue team, not assassins.") has been duped into attacking a rebel camp on the pretense of rescuing hostages. It's really a great moment--a simple, unexaggerated statement of ethics--as tough as Dutch and his team look, they derive real pride from the fact that they are in the business (primarily) of saving lives rather than ending them. It's not shoved in our faces, we don't have to watch Dutch cradling a tattered child's doll in the wreckage or anything--it's just there. This crucial humanizing moment makes Dutch's struggle with the Predator all the more striking--he has to give in to that part of himself that he rejects early on in the movie: the aggressor, the killer, the hunter, the savage. He has to allow this part of himself to take over in order to survive.

The ensemble cast deserves kudos, too (especially Bill Duke in the performance of a lifetime as the smoldering Mac)--the film is much deeper and richer thanks to their spirited characterizations. We ACTUALLY CARE when these guys (who would be called "side characters" in most other action movies) are picked off by the malicious demon that hunts and haunts them. Again, the characterization is effective and feels genuine, which lends greater meaning to the central action of the movie. As screen writing formulas go, this is definitely not rocket science, and most action and horror films attempt it in some form or fashion, but surprisingly few do so successfully.

And, of course, the other star of "Predator"--the creature itself, is masterfully conceived and designed, both with and without the mask. It still stands (along with, yes, the Alien) as one of the coolest and most imaginative monsters ever put on film.

This is a very important movie to people (especially guys) of my generation--I remember re-watching it repeatedly when I was ten or eleven (probably too young!), totally fascinated and drawn in to the primal story of kill-or-be-killed. I can honestly say that this appeal has not dwindled one iota. If, like me, you grew up on "Predator," I highly recommend picking up the new DVD so you can see for yourself how well it has stood the test of time. If you haven't seen it and have any respect for action films or thrillers whatsoever, check it out.

Anchorman: The Legend of Ron Burgundy (2004)

Consistent and thorough silliness keep this above-average comedy afloat

[7/10 · 12 July 2004]

I went to "Anchorman" expecting another super-mainstream, lowest-common-denominator, SNL-derived romp. Now, these aren't the worst movies in the world, to be sure. "Happy Gilmore" and "Old School" are pretty agreeable ways to while away the time. But usually about an hour in to these affairs, I've had enough of the broadness and predictability, which starts to get downright oppressive. It's not just that they're lowbrow--it's that they're so overwhelmingly, disappointingly conventional.

Luckily, this isn't what "Anchorman" is. "Anchorman" is a refreshingly off-kilter outing from an unlikely source--Will Ferrell, the current reigning lord of middle-of-the-road fratboy Sandlerism. The film has a lot more in common with Mel Brooks and Zucker-Abrahams-Zucker than anything in the SNL family tree. It prizes out-and-out silliness and absurdity over bathroom humor and penis jokes (though there's plenty of the latter, don't worry), and pulls it off admirably. In essence, the key to this stuff is never letting off of the goofiness even for a second--the audience should never be allowed to take anything seriously.

"Anchorman" achieves this with exceedingly silly and bizarre dialogue complemented by killer comic performances from Ferrell, Paul Rudd, Vince Vaughn and Steve Carrel. You'd have to be lobotomized to maintain a straight face through lines like "It's made with bits of real panther. So you know it's good." and "I'm riding a big, furry tractor!" The direction and pacing are also pretty solid at times, and the requisite celeb cameos are very nicely done (especially in one particular scene which I wouldn't dream of ruining).

The film's not without its flaws, certainly. Chief among them is the wasting of one of the best comic character actors in the biz: Fred Willard. If ever there was someone born to play a smarmy local TV newsman, Willard is it. But he's inexplicably cast here as a dull station suit, while David Koechner plods through the sportscaster role that was clearly meant for him--passable but certainly not as inspired as Willard would have been. Also, I think that the story would have benefited if Vaughn and his cronies, the closest thing to villains in this lightheaded romp, had a little more face time.

But these are comparatively minor problems--the point is that Ferrel has given us something that's really funny in a way that's appreciably different from the endless SNL movie-mill. It's not Monty Python, but it is a healthy departure from what has become the comic mainstream. Most importantly, the laughs are frequent, long, and deep--check it out and you won't be disappointed.

Yojimbo (1961)

Dark, irreverant, satirical and engaging

[9/10 · 28 June 2004]

Nobody ever talks about Kurosawa's sense of humor, it seems. But there are scenes in this ironic samurai romp that would do Mel Brooks proud--chief among them the brilliant sequence where the two factions TRY to fight each other in the streets but keep retreating from one another out of cowardice.

"Yojimbo" is, in fact, a pretty well-disguised satire that's not usually discussed as such. Though not as cynical as Leone's remake, "A Fistful of Dollars," "Yojimbo" is still a jaded reimagining of the samurai as an irreverant, self-interested mercenary. The war between the silk and sake factions of the small town is in essence a pathetic comedy of errors, and Sanjuro's systematic annihilation of both sides, though probably largely deserved, is a sort of exaggerated, bloody prank.

Of course, Kurosawa's patient, steady-as-a-rock direction helps to create an air of serious drama for the film, which serves to make the satire even more sophisticated.

A special film to say the least--"Yojimbo" is fun to watch on pretty much every level.

Assault on Precinct 13 (1976)

Not without its charm

[6/10 · 17 June 2004]

John Carpenter's no-budget pseudo-remake of "Rio Bravo" (with heavy doses of "Night of the Living Dead" thrown in--the zombies replaced by inhuman hordes of street toughs) set in a besieged 1970s LA police station scheduled to be closed the next day, is a flawed but worthwhile 90 minutes from a flawed but worthwhile filmmaker.

The best thing about "Assault" is its bare-bones construction. There's precious little backstory, no real explanation for the heinous actions of the gang members, no extraneous "character development" for the protagonists, no scenes where they talk about how they have a wife and kids at home or are retiring tomorrow, and very few cutaways from the main action once it gets going (the lone exception being a few sequences with couple of clueless cops patrolling the neighborhood who keep missing the siege on the supposedly abandoned precinct). The only music is Carpenter's cheap-but-effective synth score, which only serves to heighten the action rather than distract us from it. It's the kind of minimalism big-budget Hollywood just doesn't have the patience for.

The film delivers some memorable sequences, to be sure. The office being shot up by silenced gunfire, so that the windows, papers, and furniture seem to be popping and jumping of their own accord; the image of the mob of gangsters silently and fluidly sliding across our line of vision in the shadows; and, of course, the incredibly jarring and appalling "ice cream" scene.

When all is said and done, however, "Assault" doesn't quite add up to a completely satisfying movie. While the psychology of the siege is well-executed, the final action sequence is a bit anticlimactic and doesn't quite live up to it. Also, the movie's less-is-more aesthetic is a bit punishing for the first 20-odd minutes before the good stuff starts--it comes across like the uninspired and weakly constructed beginning of an MST3K movie. I kept expecting a giant insect to gobble up one of the characters.

At its best, then, "Assault" is lean and mean. But at its worst, it's a bit thin.

The Treasure of the Sierra Madre (1948)

Truly something special

[3 June 2004]

This film made a huge impression on me when I first saw it at the age of 15 or 16. A recent rewatching on DVD really served to bring home for me what makes this film so special.

The whole thing is quite good, but it really hits you when Howard goes off to celebrate with the Indians, leaving Dobbs and Curtin to care for his gold and burros. The ensuing scenes of their spiraling mistrust and tension are absolutely spellbinding--the kind of thing that makes you lean forward in your seat just to get your eyes a little closer to the raw humanity unfolding in front of you. Their paranoia, the way you can SEE scenarios of betrayal dancing in their eyes, Dobbs' burgeoning madness--these are the moments that make this film one for the ages.

At its best, film noir (which this most certainly is--Western surroundings or no) makes the viewer complicit in the evil depicted on screen. We find ourselves scheming and plotting in our heads along with the unsavory characters we are watching--we start to feel the same temptations and desires that they do. "Treasure of the Sierra Madre" accomplishes this bond with the audience as well as any film you are likely to see.

A magnificent film--one of the few great screen tragedies.

Kung Fu (1972– )

A miracle of television

[28 May 2004]

It's a shame that the martial arts craze that this show created (in conjunction with the ascendant popularity of Bruce Lee in the early 1970s), in conjunction with the somewhat cheesy '90s spinoff, has served to somewhat obscure what a gem it truly was.

It's heartbreaking to think that a lot of people who haven't seen the show lump it in as old, campy action television, like "The A-Team" or "Charlie's Angels" or something like that. The fact is, any given hour-long episode of "Kung Fu" probably contained about 45 to 60 seconds of actual action--if not less. The fact is, David Carradine was as good a leading man as any TV drama has ever had.

And the fact is, far from being a cheap exploitation of martial arts and Eastern philosophy, "Kung Fu" was created and written in true reverance to those concepts. Meticulous research was conducted, and the lessons that Masters Kan and Po (wonderfully rendered by Philip Ahn and Keye Luke, respectively) teach Caine, and that Caine in turn teaches those he encounters, are routed in authentic Shaolin philosophy.

Nor was the show cheesily made. It involved lush cinematography by televisual standards and innovative use of devices such as forced perspective and slow motion (this was the first show or movie to use different gradations of speed within a single take--the shot would move at normal speed until Caine made contact with an elbow or a fist, and then suddenly switch to delicate, poetic slow motion).

Caine was a true archetype of television--a complete reversal of basically every American screen hero that went before. Not just peaceful--but passive and serene. As Caine described it--"Kung Fu" was an "anti-revenge television show"--an amazing concept when you think about it.

Remember, the American public was not even acquainted with the phrase "kung fu" before this show. Zen Buddhism was gaining popularity in the late '60s and early '70s, but no one had ever heard of Shaolin monks. The creators of this show took a big risk on an untested concept and came up with TV gold.

I hope that the DVD release will serve to remind us all what a special show this was, and of the lessons it has to teach us.

Good Bye Lenin! (2003)

Touching, engaging and profound

[9/10 · 24 May 2004]

There are comedies which are touching. There are comedies which are thought-provoking. But there are few that manage to achieve both. "Good bye, Lenin!" is in this ultra-rare class--a comedy which can only be called profound.

The only film I can imagine to compare this to is another European tale of well-intentioned deception: "Life is Beautiful." Though neither as funny nor as wrenching as Roberto Benini's Holocaust fairy-tale, "Good bye, Lenin!" is perhaps more thoughtful and mature.

This film is a story of upheaval, about a people surprised and intimidated by the force and gaudiness of their new freedom. For the first time in any film I have seen, I have been able to witness the onslaught of a new way of life through the eyes of those on the other side of the Wall. Crimson Coca-Cola banners unfurl on East German buildings like the flag of a conqueror--their presence seems unsettling and profane. A heroic cosmonaut is reduced to driving a taxi. The comfortable socialist products that once lined the shelves of the shabby local store are replaced by a garishly colored sea of choices that bewilder the customers searching for their familiar state-produced pickles. All around them, the vivid goals of profit and acquisition replace their failed goals of egalitarianism and brotherhood.

Amidst all this, protagonist Alex makes a choice for his proudly socialist mother as she awakens from an eight-month coma--he will shield her from this new way of life through an elaborate series of white lies and fabrication. In doing so, in his own words, he creates for her the East Germany that he had always wished for--a triumph rather than a failure. Ultimately, what Alex is truly protecting is a part of himself--the child who sang East German anthems and looked skyward with dreams of representing his tiny but proud country in the cosmos. Even as he successfully sells satellite TV to his countrymen, Alex is able to keep the ideals of socialism alive within him.

"Good bye, Lenin!" is a fitting and unapologetic eulogy to an impossible human dream of equality, unity and dignity--a dream which through the eyes of Alex and his mother is no less beautiful for all its horrific flaws, or its spectacular failure.

Rio Bravo (1959)

Great characters, great performances, great stuff

[8/10 · 10 May 2004]

Boasting one of the best casts you're likely to find in a Western, "Rio Bravo" delivers the goods in terms of slam-bang action and entertainment but also provides an impressive depth of characterization and some genuinely poignant moments.

John Wayne is at his best as the supremely Dukean Sheriff John Chance. Dean Martin gives the performance of a lifetime as Dude, an alcoholic whose struggle against his own demons forms the heart of the film. Angie Dickinson is radiant and razor-sharp as Feathers, a cunning but warmhearted lady drifter (Wayne & Dickinson's scenes are absolutely priceless). Ricky Nelson is instantly likable as the fresh-faced but streetwise Colorado (I LOVE that name!). And, of course, Walter Brennan steals the show in a film made up of show-stealing performances as the infinitely cantankerous and chatty Stumpy.

There's lots of great action and comedy here, but the part that had the deepest impact on me was the singing scene. For some reason, it just really hit home for me--Martin and Nelson's soulful crooning, Stumpy's harmonica, and the Duke hanging back with a small, genuine smile on his face; all of them realizing that they may not live out the night, but thinking to themselves that life will have been worth it nonetheless. It was that rare gem of a cinematic scene that feels completely real--where the emotions of the characters and the audience become one. After watching it, you feel as if you were actually in that cramped, stuffy little jailhouse, whiling away the hours with these unlikely friends. It was during this scene that I really felt what director Howard Hawks was getting at.

"Rio Bravo" is a thoroughly enjoyable and at times touching watch--even for someone (like me) who's not the biggest fan of the Duke, the Rat Pack, or teen idol actors (Nelson).

Blow Out (1981)

Entertaining and stylish

[8/10 · 27 April 2004]

*Possible spoilers*

Like a lot of people, I suppose, I was interested in this film because Quentin Tarantino ranks it as one of his three favorite movies (along with "Rio Bravo" and "Taxi Driver"). It sure doesn't take long to see why--there's lots to love here for anyone that appreciates skilled direction and a tight story.

Stylistically, "Blow Out" is just off the charts. Brian DePalma packs the film with so many unique shots and so many thrilling, tight-as-a-drum sequences that I'm almost inclined to say it's a little too much. It was one of the only times that I've watched a film and been acutely aware that every single second is being Directed, with a capital "D." Which can be good or bad depending on what you're looking for.

The story is basic but compelling noir: a b-movie soundman (John Travolta) records the sounds of what he believes to be an assassination of a presidential candidate, and becomes a target of a clandestine cover-up operation in his attempts to get the truth out. What I like about the plot is that it HAD to be a movie. It could never have been a novel or a play. Sight and sound are too integral to the very fabric of the story for it to work in any other medium. This is what makes DePalma's lavish direction more than just so much masturbation. The plot also gets an extra brownie point for a pretty tough, shocking, anti-Hollywood ending.

There's pitfalls here, too. The romantic subplot (while not tacked on as in most films) just doesn't do it for me--mostly because Nancy Allen's character is as poorly written and acted a female lead as you will find. And yes, when you get down to it, there's much more style here than substance.

But if you have an iota of appreciation for well-orchestrated thrillers, it's tough to see why you wouldn't love this gem of a movie.

Spartacus (1960)

A film which actually lives up to its budget

[9/10 · 14 April 2004]

Made for the then-unheard-of sum of $12 million, and involving 10,500 people throughout the course of production, "Spartacus" probably still stands today as the biggest film ever made. What makes it more than this is a commitment to theme and character too often absent from big-budget Hollywood.

It seems trite to say a film is about "what it means to be human," but that is indeed the core, the thread which runs through this magnificent epic. The quest of a man to prove to himself and the world that he is indeed a man.

The existence of the character of Spartacus seems almost impossible. How could a man who was born in bondage, whose family had been mere chattel for generations, who has been treated his entire life as a beast--how could such a man be so SURE that he was more than just a body to be used up, and that freedom was his destiny?

It seems unrealistic, but it is not. Anyone who has read "The Autobiography of Frederick Douglass" knows that this strength and pride can burn inside a slave even when there is no external force to spark or sustain it. Like Douglass, Spartacus is a man who knew, intrinsically, that he and people like him deserved more.

There is much, much more to this film than just Spartacus, of course. But it is his growth into a truly free human being that left the strongest impression of me. He develops from a man barely capable of articulating his feelings at the film's beginning ("I am not an animal!") into a true leader who is ultimately a far greater man than the ruthless, privileged Crassus could ever hope to be. Early on in the film, Spartacus expresses shame to his love Varinia that he cannot read, that he does not understand the forces of nature such as wind and the movement of the heavens. Varinia responds, simply, "You know things that cannot be taught." Surely enough, near the film's conclusion, the educated and urbane Crassus struggles to understand Spartacus and Varinia's love for him. "I want to understand!" he exclaims in anguish. But he could never understand what Spartacus knew intrinsically, even though he could not read a single word: the value of each human being, be they rich or poor, free or slave.

These grand themes are subtly tempered by the presence of Batiatis and Gracchus, two very flippant, cynical, down-to-earth characters who present a gray area between the grand extremes and dramatic speeches of Spartacus and Crassus. Peter Ustinov won a much-deserved Best Supporting Actor Oscar for slimy, wimpy slave-trader Batiatis; Charles Laughton could just as easily have won for the decadant but ultimately good-hearted populist politician Gracchus. Add on Olivier's stunning performance as Crassus (truly a screen villain writ large--on par with the greatest), and you're left wishing that somehow the Oscar could have been split three ways. Quite frankly, I'm at a loss to think of another film which boasts THREE supporting performances of this calibre.

The film isn't without its weak points, however. Tony Curtis as Antoninus and John Dall as Glaborus take the viewer out of the world of the film with their unapologetically modern dialects. In the end, though, these are minor quibbles within a major cinematic achievement. Easily one of the 100 greatest films ever made--I'm rather disappointed to see it so low on the IMDB top 250.

This Is Spinal Tap (1984)

A true masterpiece

[10/10 · 8 April 2004]

A recent rewatching of one of my favorite films, "This is Spinal Tap," after several years without seeing it, impressed upon me what a truly remarkable work it is. While the latter-day Christopher Guest mockumentaries are great achievements unto themselves, make no mistake: the granddaddy (guided masterfully by Rob Reiner) is still the undisputed king of this smart, quirky brand of humor.

Michael McKean and Guest are so tremendously sharp, so subtle yet so larger-than-life as the quintessential John-Paul/Mick-Keith duo of David and Nigel that the film COULD float along on their energy and tension alone. But this film has performance to burn--with Harry Shearer's dorky bassist Derek, Tony Hendra's pugnacious and believable manager Ian (the great forgotten performance of this film--you'd be surprised how many of the memorable moments revolve around Ian), June Chadwick's unspeakably pretentious Yoko-girlfriend Jeanine, and, of course, Reiner as supreme lamo documentarian Marti DiBergi.

This isn't even to mention a series of inspired cameos by Billy Crystal, Paul Shaeffer, and Fran Drescher, among others (look for more of all of them in the extensive deleted scenes, which are a real joy unto themselves).

Then there's the music. Tap improbably spans the generations, from early Beatles/Stones Buddy Holly tribute rock to hippy-dippy psychedelia to adolescent sex metal (in a sense, the decline of Tap is the decline of rock 'n' roll itself). The songs and musicianship are so stunningly good (even when corny, it's all so extraordinarily well done), which is an excellent example of what makes this film truly great: it recognizes that parody is no excuse for laziness.

Hence the high standards of musicianship. Hence the cleverly crafted songs that you almost expect to hear when you turn on the radio. Hence the razor-sharp performances and unforgettable characters and relationships. Hence the compelling story, which is at more than one point sadder than it is funny.

As it always does, "Spinal Tap" faded to black (a kind of pastel black) the other night after a blazingly quick and tight 82 minutes. My friend, who had never seen it before, was mightily impressed. But not as impressed as yours truly, who was probably watching it for the 12th or 13th time.

It's time to stop calling Spinal Tap one of the greatest comedies of all time, one of the greatest mockumentaries of all time, one of the greatest rock 'n' roll films of all time. The simple fact is, this is one of the greatest movies ever made, period.

Key Largo (1948)

Superb cast and taut drama

[8/10 · 5 April 2004]

While chiefly remembered as a Bogart/Bacall vehicle, this story of expatriate gangsters commandeering a sleepy tropical hotel is, in actuality, a tightly directed ensemble piece with acting chops to burn.

There's Edward G. Robinson as Johnny Rocco--the brash, boisterous, sleazy gangster whose frailties (cowardice and a yearning for better times) gradually unfold before us. There's Lionel Barrymore as James Temple, the delightfully feisty and crusty hotel owner overcome with revulsion at Rocco's presence. There's Thomas Gomez, Harry Lewis, Dan Seymour and William Haade as Curly, Toots, Angel and Ralphie--Rocco's colorful but hard-edged thugs who are presences unto themselves. There's Claire Trevor as Gaye, Rocco's declining, alcoholic moll who symbolizes more than anything how far Rocco has fallen.

That's an awful lot. Too much scenery-chewing from Bogart or Bacall would push it over the top--and director/screenwriter/demigod John Huston knows it. He coaxes remarkably restrained and subtle performances out of his star couple. The romantic tension between them is suggested but never shoved in the audience's face. Bogart's wandering war vet Frank McCloud keeps his lips tight and plays his cards close to the chest--a streetwise outsider through and through. Bacall's Nora Temple lets her anger and distaste pour out through her smoldering eyes more often than her mouth.

Ultimately, the subtlety is so well-hidden between the gigantic performances of Robinson and Barrymore that you might miss just how sophisticated Frank's story is. Disillusioned and drifting since the war, he stops in to visit the wife (Nora) and father (James) of a fallen comrade whose bravery he admired. Implicit in his visit is an unspoken apology that it is he, and not their loved one, who is returning home. The fallen soldier is a constant unseen presence in the film--his bravery and honor mocking what Frank sees as his own cowardice and inability to stand up to Rocco (Bogart's fast-talking explanation of why he didn't shoot Rocco when he had the chance is classic and rare--a protagonist lying to his friends and his audience--"One Rocco more or less isn't worth dying for!"). Frank's eventual decision to take on Rocco and his hoods is a victory against the fear that plagues and shames him.

In a larger sense, this is a true period movie about a generation of men returning home from the greatest conflict the world has ever known. Most of our national memories of World War II are proud and triumphant, but, as with any war, it left countless people scarred physically and mentally. Though Frank is a decorated soldier, he feels somehow that what he did wasn't enough (because he lived and his friend did not?), and he returns back to a country in which he has no place with no real pride or satisfaction. The confrontation with Rocco affords him a chance (perhaps only possible in Hollywood or on the stage, where the story of "Key Largo" was first performed) to make things right with his world.

While it has not aged as well as the better-known films of Bogart's and Huston's careers, "Key Largo" is a film that, for a little investment of attention and thought, will pay big dividends to anyone that really and truly loves movies.

Vanilla Sky (2001)

A meandering piece of awful

[3/10 · 18 March 2004]

It's hard to imagine a more disappointing follow-up to Cameron Crowe's delightful, captivating "Almost Famous" than this confused disaster, which is long on long and short on everything else.

This is the kind of movie that needs a killer performance to "save" it--something to sink your teeth into and distract you from the fact that the story itself has little impact or interest. Tom Cruise can't do it--not that he's incapable (I actually think he's rather underrated), but the character is a loser of a protagonist. He's too self-satisfied early on and too self-pitying later to be even remotely likable. I like Jason Lee a lot, so I'm sorry to say that his tacked-on buddy character doesn't cut the mustard either.

Then we get to the ladies...OK, deep breath. I really, truly mean it when I say that Cameron Diaz and Penelope Cruz are probably the two worst actresses in Hollywood that aren't working for Vivid Video. On top of this, as luck would have it, they decided to reserve their worst respective performances for "Vanilla Sky." Both of them are positively grating. "When we come back as cats." I hope someone backs over you with their car.

Crowe deserves as much blame as the cast--he fails to inject any sort of urgency into the film--though probably not through lack of trying. For example, nice try switching the girls back and forth with alternate shots...too bad Spike Lee made much more compelling use of the same trick a decade earlier in "Mo' Better Blues." This movie didn't need gimmickry and trickery--it needed someone to grab hold of the story and really tell it. Instead, it sort of wanders along, and the big plot twist comes long after all our interest is lost.

A real bomb of a movie--avoid at all costs.

Remo Williams: The Adventure Begins (1985)

Wha?

[18 February 2004]

"Remo Williams" is a bizarre, confused, meandering, low-budget little '80s action outing that is not entirely without its charm. I believe the main draw is intended to be Joel Grey as a serene, soap-opera-loving, Yoda-like Korean sensei. Yes, Korean. Joel Grey. Don't dig too deep here.

He teaches Fred Ward (I loved "Tremors," so I'm not going to bash poor Fred) to kill people with his fingers (which I don't think he actually ever does) and overcome his fear of heights and run across wet cement and dive into sand dunes (these things he DOES do, I can promise you!) and whatever...did I mention all of this somehow helps the US government deal with the problem of corner-cutting defense contractors? And that Captain Janeway is in it as a chatty military do-gooder, with a hinted romantic subplot with Ward that never surfaces? And that something happens with a log on a zipline?

All in all, it's not offensively bad, but you have to wonder how movies like this get dug up and thrown on DVD. (Here's a warning sign: when a DVD release has the "Original Theatrical Trailer!" as the only special feature, it's probably not a must-see.)