HughBennie-777 Reviews

8MM (1999)

Cartoonish and Dead Serious

[4 March 2024]

Hopelessly brain-dead, silly thriller can't summon the intense atmosphere of fear it so badly wants to rub your face in. Righteous private dick Nicolas Cage goes after cartoonish snuff-pornographers from NYC to L. A. The soundtrack is either booming with "Batman" movie orchestrations or endless, weird Middle Eastern tracks. Cage "enters a subterranean world of Evil" but the movie's heavies, especially Peter Stormare, are so goofy, when Cage solves the case and inflicts his fair share of violence on them, it's hard to believe he (and the audience) are supposed to be shattered by the experience. The occasional graphic moments have little impact, and it's almost like watching Cage bust a ring of Scooby Doo villains. Most of the movie's undoing is how tame it's sexual- depravity-for-sale appears compared to the modern day Gomorrah that is the internet. Catherine Keener's talents are wasted here as the long-suffering wife character who spends all her scenes indoors and attached to a baby. The finale is as anemic as a bad Three Stooges gag.

Everybody Wants Some!! (2016)

Awful Flick

[3 February 2024]

Remember when college movies involved rival frats, and the obnoxious, smug antagonists were the enemy? Imagine the same group of unlikeable characters being the protagonists. It's hard to beat this cast of disco-dancing knobs and their breathtaking lack of charisma. All the rock n' roll is gone. No believable camaraderie in site, no laughs, and if you remove the awkward patches of facial hair and 80s bowls, it's like watching the rich frat hog a whole movie. This is easily Linklater's worst movie. The humor is completely in line with letting an unfunny jock yell drunkenly at a keg party, and most offensive is the music. Disco dancing is cool? Not an irreverent moment in the whole thing, and if this collection of jock-heroes is supposed to be charming, they fail in that department, too. Definitely avoid if you loved "Dazed and Confused."

SubUrbia (1996)

Decent Ensemble of Whiners, but Movie Timeline is Wacky

[4 July 2023]

Gen X at its most self-pitying. Great performances. A huge improvement on "Tape." But lots of questions. What I can't figure out is the movie's timeline. By midnight, the action seems to level off after a Chinese restaurant serves characters their last meal and the drunk, aloof character Nicky Katt with massive hair gel buys his final amount of booze before being taken to jail. By now, it's got to be 2, 3 AM. But the sun rises, and suddenly Katt is out on bail, with fresh booze (bought where?) and he's reunited at the Quik Mart with Giovanni Ribisi. Meanwhile Steve Zahn, last seen completely shitfaced, returns sober with new clothes and new energy? Is this the morning after the previous night's binge? It can't be. Did people do cocaine? Characters mention "last night" but is that referring to only 3 hours prior? It's still dark. And somehow the relapsed-on-alcohol girl climbed two structures to pass out (or die) on a roof? Also, do these seemingly middle class, suburban characters actually copulate in a filthy abandoned van in a public trash-yard? Like hobos?

A Hitman in London (2015)

An Empty Hole

[18 February 2023]

Unthinkable and disgraceful exercise in action movie-making by computer. The CGI graphics are as bad as the score, and the incredible cast must have been paid a lot of money to participate in something this bad. It's hard to pin-point just where things aren't wretched throughout the movie, as it comes so fast, supported by the vocabulary of modern B movie camoflauge--like, ooooh, drone shots. A truly magnificent botch. You would think any writer or director would compensate such a solid cast with decent characters and some surprises. But it's not the case here. The action cliche's and sloppy fight scenes don't play out in 3,000 cuts a minute, but the realism and effects re: bruise and injury makeup are as absent as in the most B-movie efforts of the 1950s. Might as well not have people clutch their CGI wounds like victims did their absent ones in old films, as this movie is so transparent it almost seems like the sets and locations themselves aren't real.

See Jane Date (2003 TV Movie)

Pure Excreta

[3 January 2023]

Canadian made-for TV rom-com provides plenty of time-lapse Manhattan skylines to suggest NYC, but generic big-city interiors only add to the dim-witted female characters, and the dating plotlines are pure discharge. The dialogue is snarky product-placement noise while lead Charisma Carpenter navigates the horrors of imminent 28-year-old spinsterhood with lines like, "Maybe I should just buy 12 cats and call it a day". The movie's funniest line. "Charmed" hottie Heather Marie Combs plays the obligatory beautiful success story with secrets, and there's the obliatory looming wedding to overcome as a climax. Again. A nauseating loop of yuppie-pop-jazz permeates the soundtrack and never stops. About 3-4 black and brown people get recycled onscreen as extras. Antonio Sabato Jr. Plays a doctor(?) who shows up to humiliate Carpenter after made-for-TV sex, yet has time to club-hop. Even the movie's simulated NYC gets no favors by having Carpenter insult the Lower East side as uncool. Say what? This is a movie that insults every concept of feminism right down to featuring all women characters over the age of 50 as grotesque monsters. And being a movie about women, its self-loathing goes from dismal to apocalyptic. Aside from too many chattering bird-brain 20-something costars, when Carpenter finally explodes into a monologue boasting about barely scavenged self-esteem, she cries. What a role model. The wedding features its own scrapheap of a twist that is so forecasted, you wish a lesbian angle (or the 12 cats) rescued the whole banal production.

King Frat (1979)

Ambitious Writing

[11 March 2022]

"King Frat" (1979) Enough has been written about this disgraceful "Animal House" ripoff , its boundary-pushing doo-doo humor and nauseating male nudity. From the demand that director Ken Wiederhorn have his guild card revoked to gratitude expressed that its screenwriter recently died, the movie earns some of this outrage.

But it's really just a sloppy grind to sit through with epic amounts of vulgarity smacking you in the face. At least the female nudity is of a high enough quality to counteract all the male bare asses. Worse, the youthful heroes are all in their 40s, complete with bald spots, and this creates less of a joyful, collegiate atmosphere than one more akin to a halfway house.

John DiSanti, age 41, is the John Belushi surrogate who burps, bottomburps, constantly takes dumps, and eventually the character plays with his own phlegm, vomits on cue, poops his pants, then makes love on a toilet while making a BM. That's a lot of ambitious writing.

Though the movie's goal to "out-gross" "Animal House" practically reaches X-rated heights, it didn't out-gross anything at the box office. Everything is badly achieved due to wretched production values (though the frat house is beautiful), a horrible theme-song, a cast completely lacking in charisma, and it's likely only giggling 12 year olds back in 1979 granted it any praise. This, mostly for the boobies.

Other atrocities include: a dog becomes airborne on its own flatulence and there's a fart contest. There's an Isley Brothers and even a Heart poster on the frat-house walls, but, aside from a cameo from the solid disco band Natural Magic, the only music is the ungodly theme song. No amount of 1979 pharmaceutical cocaine on set justifies this mess. Amazingly Busch beer products pop up all over the movie. Additionally, it's no surprise the DVD of the film is a lovely VHS tape rip-transfer.

Sudden Impact (1983)

Dirty Harry Devalued

[3 December 2021]

Amazingly sloppy, stupid Dirty Harry movie--and regretfully the most successful in the series--not only boasts its childish catch-phrase but whores itself out with other amenities to pander to the new 1983 fanclub of Dirty Harry dumbos. There's pre-adolescent profanity, pee-pee humor to go with the rape and revenge story, cartoonish villains (one a hissable, cackling barfly chick) who belong in one of Eastwood's monkey movies. The bad guys can shoot nothing but windshields and walls with automatic weapons, the action scenes are poorly directed and ludicrously staged, Harry's bosses call him "a walking combat zone" and there's other outbursts of show and tell screenwriting to help the dumber audience members understand that a.) Dirty Harry doesn't play by the rules, and b.) Crime is everywhere and bad. There is also a minor performance by a bulldog who bottomburps. "Death Wish 2" is a social commentary masterpiece compared to this mess, especially since that movie's violence is shocking and Charles Bronson doesn't play cute. Hideous Paul Drake is the movie's only asset, as the head rapist who also hurts the bottomburping bulldog. Lalo Schifrin's score is strictly TV.

They Talk to Me (2021)

Beautifully Shot, Hopelessly Muddled

[21 October 2021]

A thriller with its plot-heavy scenes creating a weighty, incomprehensible story. Meanwhile the impressive acting surfaces here and there amidst all the unanswered questions. The documentary film subplot, itself, is abandoned, so too many of the movie's characters disappear, leaving the effective protagonist alone with too many computer scenes, and too many drone shots. There's a gorgeous synthesizer score and the special effects are top-notch--and practical. Only a few obnoxious stutter-cuts interrupt what the director maintains in traditional style and pace. Rocio Morales is superb as the movie's most tragic character. There's a large quantity of atmosphere, and the movie's art direction and locations support this. If only the writers and editors had collaborated more on communicating suspenseful information over just creating beautifully photographed suspense, and some quality gore.

American Night (2021)

Bloated Yet Fun.

[3 October 2021]

Flashy, art-heist-crime thriller packs a satisfying combination of dramatic narrative and humor, so it almost avoids the Tarantino Genre classification-almost. Regrettably, the movie features a Dead Rock Star diner with corresponding quirky cameos. But not even the bloated, collapsed-lung presence of Michael Madsen, as a crime boss, can prevent the movie's second act from becoming a third act. And then there's another third act to go. The visuals are beautiful, the performances strong and sincere, primarily those involving the cool male characters (of course). Especially Emile Hirsch and Jon Rhys Meyers. The women get little to do but enjoy sex scenes while dripping in paint, dance in clubs, or look beautiful while being hurt, disappointed or confused. Or getting shot. The length of the movie dilutes what is supposed to be a riveting climax, and events soon favour Slick over Dramatic. Instead, what arrives is more confusion than excitement, as the different characters keep pursuing a stolen Andy Warhol painting. What follows is a collection of well-shot gun sequences, but at least the movie's action is free of noxious stutter-cut retardation and CGI excreta. Overall, the movie is entertaining, but becomes unbalanced as the drama and character humor that worked so well in the first hour deteriorate. Pop star Anastacia's performance of the title song in a club is a highlight. The European locations standing in for New York work well. Aaron Stielstra plays a mobster.

Florida Man (2015)

Fun Without Too Much Mockery

[17 September 2021]

Florida Man (2015) To call this a "love letter to the weird and wonderful people of Florida" (as one writer declared) is more like mistaking a book club for yard sale of illegal firearms. Yet there's some charm and color, as most of the intoxicated--or slowly becoming intoxicated-participants are funny and wear bright, tent-size t-shirts and shorts on their emaciated forms, plus bulbous sneakers. This transforms most of the local Florida characters from wobbly old men into little boys, and most look like they've never seen the inside of a golf course except one to pass out on that they've trespassed across. Unlike the below-zero-budget documentary "First Call", there's only a few female companions onscreen. One of the funniest attempts at avant grade technique is the film-maker's insistence on shooting extreme close-ups of his subjects, some lasting for 15 seconds, saying nothing. This wierdo collection of live mug-shots almost functions as its own artistic sobriety test.

Oxyana (2013)

Self Pity but Great Music

[31 August 2021]

It begins a promising documentary but degenerates into the equivalent of a barroom of drunks, mumbling and blubbering in front of the camera. From weepy testimonials to low self-esteem problems, from "there's nothing to do here" complaints, braggy boasting, horrible rap-poems, women crying over their baby's futures and too many pious, truth-telling but completely wasted people's faces onscreen, soon the sympathy factor just plummets. At one point, people start blaming West Virginia itself. It's a major improvement compared to the pretentious swill that is "Louisiana", but the movie is a very slow merry-go-round of endless interviews with gorgeous montages set to beautiful music. The feature would work better if it were only the montages and maybe the interviews were condensed. Several characters garner no sympathy at all, especially one big hick who slobbers his loyalty to dope while moaning about his baby, this while his lovestruck girlfriend qualifies how important it is to deprive the family of money so her man can not to be sick. Plus, the guy litters. I had to fast-forward over this couple. A lot of pipe dreams shattered and teardrops shed, yet you learn very little. And being 10 years sober, I can cut a lot of slack to addicts and their testimonials, just not for so many who can't face their own mistakes and their own addictions.

Thy Kingdom Come... Thy Will Be Done (1988 TV Movie)

Unthinkable

[16 August 2021]

"Thy Kingdom Come...Thy Will Be Done" (1988) Director Antony James's solemn face confronts a pious yet pitiful collection of mostly poor southern followers of fundamentalist religion. Their stories of abuse and addiction lead to the rich televangelist excreta who the movie profiles as they lick their chops. Most disturbing are James's adventures into the parallel universe of Jim and Tammy Bakker, manufactured "communities" where residents can spend (lose) even more money buying religiously altered books of fairy tales and live in giant malls. The bogus House for Disabled Children that houses only one brainwashed 18 year old with no limbs is like a David Lynch nightmare that is, unfortunately, more real and painful than all the televangelist teardrops shed. Divided into two parts, more 1986 "Murder, She Wrote" fashions follow (massive shoulder pads, fake pearls, sweaters and permanents on the women, puffy, parted-in-the-middle bowl cuts and moustaches on the men) as here the movie focuses on one Dallas, Texas megachurch (empire) run by a smiling, racist despot W. A. Criswell. The massive property and its crusade against "secular humanists who support communism" is led by billionaires who openly ignore the bible's apostles and believe Jesus endorsed the wealthy class as being the only Born Agains worthy of Heaven. This means Mother Theresa isn't invited-as well as the "brown Mexicans" and hobos who show up in the empire's single soup kitchen-church. The movie comes alive in a few interviews. Both Criswell's, who appears as a pompous Coen Brothers character, and a fired theology expert on the New Testament who breaks down exactly how much of the bible is ignored in all the teachings at the First Baptist Church. A tea party with Texas billionaire's wives, complete with a musical performance, is so horrifying, most viewers will require a dose of GG Allin or at least AC/DC as an antidote.

German Angst (2015)

2 out of 3 Atrocities Benefit from some Love and Care

[10 August 2021]

A Berlin trilogy of modern gorno from three German sickos actually displays imagination, quality acting and magnificent, shocking practical effects. Episode 1, about a girl who imprisons her molesting father, has plenty of style and one amazing scene of gore, yet features little acting, functioning more as an arty "I Spit on Your Grave" exercise in atrocity and *splrrrch*. Episode 2 about a neo-nazis torturing a deaf couple is steeped in pretentious writing and features an embarrassing gang who fail to qualify as thugs in a "Death Wish" sequel let alone "Class of 1984". Episode 3, about a man addicted to a sex club while undergoing "Videodrome"-style side effects, is accomplished in its disturbing, fleshy William Burroughs design and concept of self-destruction. The lead performances by Milton Welsh and Desiree Giorgetti are excellent, and Andreas Marschall's direction is almost too slick and well-photographed to appear alongside exploitation garbage like Ep. 2 , with its giggling nihilism and purple blood. Overall, a depraved, class act, at least a step up for the extreme horror genre and its gutter of zombies and rape.

The El Duce Tapes (2019)

Rags to Rags

[15 April 2021]

A troubling, hilarious, very wet and extremely squishy documentary about shock-rock pioneer Eldon "El" Duce and his sociopathic bandmates The Mentors. The movie packs plenty of surprises, from El's grotesque high-school vandalism to the group's musical genesis being electric 70s jazz. (El Duce describes their change to punk rock as "fusion to perversion").

The plentiful depravity within provides no greater iconic image than a wobbly, grinning El Duce squatting on a dirty carpet to watch porn on a TV set, cheap beer in hand. The movie's humor disappears almost entirely after 35 minutes--this marked by a sincere on-camera bottomburp from El--once his homelessness, alcoholism and contempt for life emerge amidst endless 40 oz. Bottles of Olde English. Everything becomes much sadder here than in anything found in the angry, blowhard rantings GG Allin spewed in "Hated".

And things get worse, as video gorno follows of El Duce suffering an atrocity straight out of "The Elephant Man." Watching this makes listening to some whiny-ass grunge rocker or pompous fallen star like Axl Rose self-pity himself impossible. Happier moments include tons of glitchy vintage 80s footage, especially of the band's music video for "Donkey Dick", and there's powerful live performances of hits like "Sandwich of Love." One concert takes place in an L. A. garage to an audience of cigarette-smoking 12-13 year-old boys.

El Duce also gives a performance of love-making in a sort of oral-tradition display likely to shock every lesbian performance artist from Italy to Seattle.

Testimonials from bandmates are mostly of the type expected from disappointed high-school guidance counselors or prison guards. There's even material onscreen to shock hardcore fans of the group and definitely believers in the kind of music-contest-fits-all pursuit of stardom. Responsible rock-star parents should consider this required viewing for their children. 5 potato sacks out of 5.

Battletruck (1982)

Nothing to Complain About Here

[18 February 2021]

In the wake of the innumerable "Mad Max II" ripoffs in the early 80s, this one--in spite of its unoriginal plot--packs sensational camerawork and stunts and vivid New Zealand locations. Well cast and features a soundtrack fat with Juno synth stingers and prog rock outbursts of guitar solo'ing. The finale is a beautiful capture of vehicular destruction. No Italian dubbing. No headbands. No stupid laser sound effects, either. Easily the best of all the imitators, this compared to trash like "Exterminators of the Year 3000."

Cutting Edge: The Wet House (2002) Season Unknown, Episode Unknown

Unforgettable and Wet

[22 June 2020]

If you're looking for discouragement from becoming a late-stage alcoholic, you can subtract every Lifetime movie, Afternoon School Special, hundreds of classic alcoholism films to the present, plus all seasons of addiction TV, because this heartbreaking British documentary out-shines (and out-shocks) even my favorite movie "On the Bowery". Eugene O'Neal, himself, would flee the Wethouse. This is a facility where homeless drunks are allowed to cohabitate, most often in a common room, and drink endless 15.5 oz. cans of Tennant's Super Lager before staggering off to their bleak single rooms. Despite most of these sad wastrels being Irish and abandoned in London, there's no poetry, no pub charms, only a few warbled songs in between sloppy violence and dementia-ridden conversations the men and women hold with themselves. The yellow faces are mushy and flattened, all the residents, young-ish and old, are missing front teeth from fights and falls. Certain individuals are focused on by the film-makers, as they try to explain their current states, but so much damage is done, it's like a tour of an Urgent Care ward. Both fascinating and horrifying is the facility, itself, as it justifies its existence, earning taxpayer's money and providing shelter for alcoholics so far gone that collapsing into puddles within a safe environment is more logical than paying for hospitalization after they've been set on fire in parks. One disfigured army veteran is the survivor of such an event, and his story qualifies the Wethouse's purpose. Still, the fact that the house staff is reluctant to break up fights is a troubling outcome of a miserable situation not properly monitored. The documentary shows you everything, and is more disturbing than most "misery porn" or the frequent crybaby developments exploited on "Intervention". It should be required viewing following the Superbowl and its beer ads. Watch it on Youtube. 5 out of 5 potato sacks.

Avenging Angel (1985)

Dreadful, rushed and anemic

[18 May 2020]

What surprising elements redeemed the original, especially during its exciting climax, are nonexistent here. Even the wacky street characters are like something out of a TV show. Shopping Cart Sally? Johnny Glitter? The action sequences never improve from the opening, while the replacement Angel is nice to look at with zero depth. A lot of embarrassment captured onscreen demonstrates that a rushed sequel is most often a lost cause.

Blood Widow (2020)

Tucson Atrocities

[22 February 2020]

This police-procedural thriller, featuring mis-matched partners, grisly killings and the like, departs from enough formulas in a beat-to-death genre to make an impression. Yet director-star Brendan Murphy still has to compete with a low budget, which comes with its own production handicaps. Poor sound drenches some scenes in reverb, locations are without extras and appear under-dressed, etc. Still, nothing is hindered when it comes to the script or most of the performances. Murphy also supplies scenes of suspenseful, creative shock and sticky gore, with the movie's excellent horror tableaus being downright artistic. Though lengthy in some scenes of exposition about the movie's vampire cult, the blood-mutation story element is unique enough to excuse most of them-even a single lab-assistant who seems to run his forensics lab out of a precinct locker room. Murphy plays a memorable and hilarious antagonist-beast who dwarfs the movie's bloodsuckers, coming across as a berserk Roy Batty one minute, an 80s slasher icon the next. Luckily, his wisecracks are funny. James Craven and Dallas Thomas also perform their roles with comparable sincerity, so much so that once the inevitable partner dies, the scene plays out in real time and is a strong one. Also commendable are a few moments of alcoholic delirium which succeed due to Craven's acting and hideous "Jacob's Ladder" stutter cuts. Everything is backgrounded by a throbby "Sexy Beast" soundtrack, which injects despair throughout its many synth stingers. If the high production value camerawork and sound weren't so unbalanced by moments of the opposite onscreen, the performances would definitely transmit better-and be more impactful. Murphy's decent pace rescues a lot, and it works. Additionally, the Tucson, Arizona settings and Mexican influences are colourful. The movie's gothy flashdance hall called Club Carnage (and its owner) deserve a "Near Dark" massacre which I hope appears in the sequel.

Spasms (1983)

Yes, it's a 6

[7 December 2019]

Nothing qualifies such bad reviews of a movie called "Spasms". It's about a giant snake and Oliver Reed shares telepathic powers with it. What more is there to expect? Not likely another early 80s director with a diminished Canadian budget could have done better. There's lovely gore effects, some effective shocks, and Oliver Reed emotional and tormented by his predicament. Unfortunately, there is also Peter Fonda and his terrible female costar. But at least one man undergoes such massive spasms he first tranforms into Robert Z'Dar, then pops. Not much more I can ask for than that. For all its sloppy editing and a plot which contains too much unresolved material, the movie delivers its share of drive-in quality thrills. Plus, the Tangerine Dream end credits piece rocks.

30 Minutes or Less (2011)

A Gasping B*tthole of a Film - WARNING: More scatalogical references follow.

[6 December 2019]

Tremendous and breathtaking badness, and a measure of just how morally bankrupt Hollywood is to finance such a blood and mustard puddle of discharge. If guys calling each other "a**hole" is funny for 90 minutes, obviously some studio exec was inspired to green light it and so the man-cave genre prospers straight to its destiny: a diaper.

Landing Lake (2017)

Promises Unfulfilled

[12 July 2019]

It's not a zombie film, so the movie earns a point there. The practical effects on 35 mm film, plus atmospheric locales and a genuine synthesizer score, raise this to above average, but the grade is paralyzed by the always-fatal imbalance of quality acting versus wretched acting. The bonkers plot, which does has the nerve to play out with little concern for coherence or audience-pleasing, still could have benefited from a 100% strong cast. Yet it's not often you encounter good acting in most horror-thrillers nowadays. At least there's ample gore and squishy killings to delight all the Fangoria geeks.

The Broken Key (2017)

Ungodly

[25 May 2019]

Endless. An agony to watch. A patchwork quilt screenplay requires one character after another to help further a plot about ancient Egyptian cults and Turin, Italy in the year 2030. For an incomprehensible 2 hours. Archeologist Andrea Coco looks miserable throughout while searching through the cool character actors (Rutger Hauer, Michael Madsen, Geraldine Chaplin, Christopher Lambert) on the movie's guest list. And the whole cast is dubbed with wretchedly mixed sound. The insistent, pompous scoring doesn't help, and as events take place, there is less and less suspense to any of it. The plot is enough to confuse/bore even hardened followers of this genre.

Best thing to do, in order to amuse oneself during the movie's self-important exposition: say the movie's title out loud, wait several seconds, then let out an enormous wet bottom-burp strong enough to send ripples through both butt cheeks.

Then do it again.

Don't: The Short Films of Aaron Stielstra (2018)

Outstanding

[12 May 2019]

A collection of insights about various states of American distress. With alarming use of grainy film stock, vhs tape, squashed aspect ratios and yet sharply edited montages, Stielstra creates a sensibility rarely seen onscreen. Abstract and absurd to the extreme. And very angry.

The Rogues of Flat Oak (2018)

Tomfoolery, Sincerity & Madness

[2 March 2019]

"The Rogues of Flat Oak" (2018)

The ambitious production values all over director Michael Fredianelli's new Wild Dogs western must signify a major elevated status in budget. It's upgraded in many places, be it the swelling French horns on the soundtrack or the biblical drone shots. Yet it disappoints in others where numerous characters break period so badly in costuming, one wonders why cast members were allowed untucked peach Polo shirts, Bret Michaels cowboy hats, Wrangler belt buckles and jeans to form an ensemble.

The gorgeous elements in location and cinematography are sweeping, but do they support, style and content-wise, David Lambert's turgid script? The movie almost looks (and sounds) like "Silverado" during its virtuous moments, but when the conventional characters veer off into thoroughly unique and depraved adventures (and language), it is cause for celebration. One sex party of bumbling stooges is filled with graphic unmentionables, split pee-pees, bloody close-ups of fundament, excreta, and other motifs of R rated excess. If you enjoy an unbalanced product, "Rogues" provides enough sordid highlights to thankfully taint the Morgan Freeman musical cues, awkwardness, and earnest emotion onscreen; the shifting atmospherics become entertainment.

The exceptional acting from leads Joseph Paul, James Allen Brewer and Dominic Olivo is refreshing. John Bramhall dominates the screen with his blubbery, disturbing cuckold who not only orders up murder and torture, but models one of the movie's best suits during a gratifying comeuppance.

Though the lesser characters display little depth or appeal--or common sense, such as a lead Trampler paying new hires buttloads of money with no background check--a finale involving Todd Risby in a butterscotch suit, settling a grudge, is so poetic one wishes there were no close-ups to the bad makeup. Or that his adversary didn't look like he just stepped out of a Tombstone gift shop.

As a western, the cosmetics are sloppy but Lambert's unique, grotesque vision, Fredianelli's gripping and well-directed sequences plus the spirited performances make it an enjoyable watch.

The Infinity Project (2018)

Implausibility Can Kill

[15 February 2019]

Thrillers benefit from surprises, but here the movie shoots itself in the foot 20 minutes in and struggles to recapture it's strong opening. CGI bullets flying at close range yet not hitting targets. Where did all those bullets go? A president shakes his Secret Service team to meet with a knife-wielding crackhead on a city street? A hostage situation on an airfield plays out like an elderly walk in the park. Not even the excessive violence and profanity can overcome the campy sci-fi laboratory and the plotline about brain data transplants to maintain any grit or realism. Yet for it to be a fantasy-thriller, it spends a lot of time suggesting characters are damaged, troubled by their fates. So it's difficult to figure out what kind of movie it is. The fights are fights: demonstrations. The drama is upheld by the president character, whose character you want to focus on for the whole movie, complete with his vomit spells and familiar, morally bankrupt persona--a scumbag. The European subplot is intriguing but when it appears, it's jarring and even the soundtrack often switches to gypsy music. Lots of good moments from some cast and in the technical department--except those bullets--but the limited USA locations and the only-in-a-movie violence combine to make the lead actors appear impatient to either escape their own dialogue. Or die. These enormous canvas movies require the kind of special effects and ingenious plots to please the most miserable, unforgiving fans in the universe. Tackling the genre with so little is majorly risky unless there's research and performances and the canvas allows some focus. Otherwise, the whole operation seems like a lot of work with almost impossible odds to beat.