Oct 091995
 

Four boys, Kyle (voice: Matt Stone), Stan (voice: Trey Parker), Cartman (voice: Trey Parker), and Kenny, are caroling and arguing, when Jesus shows up.  He’s upset with Santa Claus taking the focus off of his birth.  Jesus and Santa start fighting, destroying everything around them, so the boys call upon a really important person, skater Brian Bortono, to solve the problem.  5 min.

This is the first true South Park cartoon, and has something to offend almost everyone.  It is also fall-to-the-floor funny.  Clocking in at just over five minutes, it manages to get an amazing amount done in that time.  There’s blasphemy, social satire, incessant swearing from the mouths of children, decapitation and several other forms of death (again, dealing with children), and a cynical tone.

The Spirit of Christmas is a remake of another film, also called The Spirit of Christmas, that filmmakers Trey Parker and Matt Stone had created three years earlier.  They kept the best jokes from the first, but also made substantial changes, creating a much funnier work.

In 1995, The Spirit of Christmas probably deserved 4s, but times have changed.  Much of its effectiveness came from its ability to shock.  In ’95, you were unlikely to find anything else quite like it (except its hard to find predecessor).  But South Park’s own success as a series has made this material more acceptable, or at least more common.

The series has had multiple Christmas episodes including: Mr. Hankey, the Christmas Poo, Merry Christmas Charlie Manson!, Mr. Hankey’s Christmas Classics, A Very Crappy Christmas, and Woodland Critter Christmas.

Oct 081995
 
three reels

A hard to define nuclear event has caused Godzilla’s internal nuclear “heart” to overheat, and the giant monster will soon explode, destroying Earth’s atmosphere. At the same time, creatures created by the oxygen destroyer that killed the original Godzilla forty years ago have appeared and threaten to lay waste to Japan. The scientific/military organization known as G-Force must eliminate the new creatures, find Godzilla Jr., and stop the explosion before the world is destroyed.

Toho studio, either because they were out of ideas or because they figured there was more money to be made letting Hollywood take over, announced that Godzilla vs. Destroyah would contain the radioactive dinosaur’s death. So, they threw caution, and anything remotely connected to science, to the wind, and made an enjoyable wrap-up for the Heisei series (’84-’95).

The human plots to most Godzilla flicks are weak, and for the Heisei films, almost always a detriment. Godzilla vs. Destroyah remedies that by not having the humans do much of anything. They sit and watch computer screens or they sit and watch monsters battle. They sit a lot. And it really is an improvement over recent entries like Godzilla vs. Space Godzilla. All the people need to do is not detract from the monsters, and except for some whining from Miki, the psychic from the previous five films, that’s pretty much what happens. They are commentators on the giants.

More than any of the others in the long line of sequels, this one takes us back to the 1954 original. There’s a cameo by the lead actress of Gojira/Godzilla, King of the Monsters, and several characters are related to those in the earlier movie. There’s even a photo of Professor Serizawa on a shelf, and the monster Destroyer (“Destroyah” is only used in the title for copyright reasons) is a result of the use of his oxygen destroyer forty years ago. None of this makes a bit of difference to the story, but it’s a nice homage for fans of the first film.

The heart of the movie is the monsters. That’s why the movie exists. And it delivers with a fantastic, ferocious Godzilla, glowing red from his impending meltdown. Godzilla Jr. has been repaired; no longer is he the Pokemon figure from Godzilla vs. Space Godzilla.  Destroyer is a disappointment. In his smaller form(s), he looks like a puppet being pulled across a set. It’s obvious that his legs aren’t supporting him. When he’s the giant, his movement is far too limited, particularly his wings, which aren’t up to the level of ones you could find at a good Halloween shop. Destroyer would have been a nicely designed foe for Godzilla in 1972, but here he suffers from comparison with the starring creature.

The city-smashing and military battles should satisfy any fan.  The new secret weapon (The Super X3), is less powerful than its earlier incarnations in previous films, but also looks a lot more reasonable. I can almost believe in this craft (well, in a universe that includes hundred meter tall dinosaurs, I can believe in it). All of the many beam weapons are as colorful and dramatic as anyone could wish for. Add in a score by Akira Ifukube, that makes everything seem more important than it is, and you end up with one of the better of the all-eye-candy Godzilla films.

But it is only eye candy. There’s lip service given to environmentalism, but like the human relationships, it goes nowhere and means nothing. This is a movie that asks you not to think, and to care only about a couple of oversized lizards. Works for me.

For fans of the Godzilla franchise: Godzilla vs. Destroyah revises and clarifies the canon. Godzilla Jr. is not a member of a vegetarian species similar to Godzilla; he’s of the same species. The time twisting events of Godzilla vs. King Ghidorah, including Godzilla not existing in 1954 and being created instead years later, did not happen. It is also not the case, as implied in Godzilla 1985, that Godzilla survived the oxygen destroyer in ’54. He died, as Gojira/Godzilla, King of the Monsters makes clear.

Oct 081995
 
three reels

Government Scientists, lead by Xavier Fitch (Ben Kingsley), mix human and alien DNA to create Sil (Michelle Williams), an innocent girl they keep in a clear cage. When she escapes, a team (Michael Madsen, Alfred Molina, Forest Whitaker, Marg Helgenberger) is put together to destroy her. That may be difficult as the suddenly mature Sil (Natasha Henstridge) is lethal and will do anything to mate.

Some movies set their sights low (for instance, the entire Slasher sub-genre), a little entertainment via a few base-level sensations is enough. That’s Species, a fast paced, exciting, gore-fest filled with nudity and humor that succeeds due to its limited goal. This isn’t Shakespeare, people; this is a really cute babe taking off her top and then shoving her alien tentacle-tongue through a guy’s skull.

The film’s opening is extremely effective. Grave Xavier Fitch watches as poison canisters are positioned to murder a crying young girl. He say’s he’s sorry, but does nothing else. Now even if you think all children should be gassed, you’re going to be on her side. And when she escapes, it’s an adrenaline rush. Sil gained my sympathy and kept it till the end. She’s captivating any time she’s onscreen, whether as believable Williams or as the sexy Henstridge. Species could have been a brilliant, thought provoking film if it had dealt more with her feelings, needs, and identity, but the filmmakers knew that such films usually fail, so decided to make a lesser, sure-win picture.

While entertaining, does the story make sense? No. The premise is absurd. A bunch of scientists get the DNA of space aliens and decide to mix it with human’s. Why? What would bring them to do that? They could figure out the genome of an artichoke any time they want, yet no lab is making human-artichoke hybrids (Or are they?  Might there be a vegetable woman waiting to break free even now?). Then, fearing this might be the end of mankind, the government only gathers together the lead scientist on the project, an assassin, two “lesser” scientists, and an empath to stop her. Wouldn’t the survival of the species be worth a bit more effort?  And I did write “empath.”  I’m asked not only to believe in Sil, but also in this all-purpose psychic (who behaves like a sit-com sidekick) who’s there whenever the writer can’t figure how to progress the story. Then there is the ending, which contains many sins, including showing far too much of the monster suit/CGI. The makeup and FX are not up to the challenge of translating bio-mechanical artist H.R. Giger’s design for the alien Sil to the screen. While it’s easy to find faults, Species doesn’t fail where it counts most, and since plot and mystery aren’t the main attractions, this is one that’s easy to watch over and over.

Followed by Species II (1998) and Species III (2004).

Back to Mad ScientistsBack to Aliens

Oct 061995
 
two reels

In 1974, a secret operation brings back werewolf blood from Eastern Europe.  One of the agents injects himself with it, becoming a lycanthrope, but is shot with silver bullets and frozen by his boss (Barry Bostwick).  In present day, Doctor Anne De Carlo (Kim Delaney) and a team of scientists researching artificial metal blood, are given the frozen corpse to work on.  After grafting on metal skin, they remove the silver bullets.

Why would someone want to put metal skin on a werewolf?  Isn’t a werewolf tough enough as is?  But then, I’m a little lost on why someone would want a werewolf for the army.  Sure, they’re pretty good at killing, but aren’t armies more successful when they are under the control of someone?  Werewolves aren’t.  Really, there aren’t any decisions made in Project: Metalbeast that makes sense.  People ignore the danger of the werewolf when it has already killed people.  A guy injects himself with the monster’s blood.  Then there is the whole “metal skin for burn victims” thing.  Metal would be pretty low on my list of choices for flesh.

An unnecessary addition to werewolf lore, Project: Metalbeast isn’t unpleasant to watch.  Bostwick is a properly twisted villain.  Delaney is attractive.  The werewolf suit could be a lot worse.  And there’s some blood.  Of course there’s more talking than killing (it’s cheaper to film).

I wouldn’t suggest looking for this, but if it happened to come on free TV after something you were watching, you could leave it on without undue pain.

Back to WerewolvesBack to Mad Scientists

Oct 061995
 
two reels

Tara Wexford (Jenna Bodnar) returns to her family estate in Wales for the funeral of her father.  While her childhood friend (Blair Valk) tries to get her to sell the estate and engage in sexual adventures with another old friend, others in the town warn her to leave.  When she finds a tired and lost nude girl in the wine cellar, she is infected by a “were-cat spirit,” and learns that the village is cursed, and that the townspeople will murder anyone they think could be the beast.

I keep hoping.

In theory, in theory I repeat, a sexy “horror” movie should be easy.  Vampires are the obvious monster to use, but there are possibilities with were-creatures.  Huntress: Spirit of the Night is an attempt to create an erotic, were-cat flick, and for a while I thought that someone had finally succeeded.  Oh well, maybe next time.

For an exploitation film, Huntress has an excellent look.  You are unlikely to find any similarly marketed movie with anything close to this level of cinematography.   Director Mark S. Manos has an eye for what looks good on film.  Lead actress Jenna Bodnar, who is beautiful and can act (a rarity in this particular sub-sub-genre) also makes this look and sound much better than normal.  She is the main reason to see this picture and deserves better material.  Her nude and sex scenes (they don’t always go together) were sexy and well done, if a bit overlong.  They are too coy, but this was cut down from an NC-17 to an R, which seems to have been a mistake.  The “Welsh” backdrop also worked for the picture, creating a mood where the mythology was almost believable (it would have worked even better with a few less Eastern European accents).  The elements of the traditional lycanthrope story, with the ancient curse, the townspeople hunting for the beast, and Tara becoming more animalistic and frightened, took me into the picture.  And there I was, ready to claim I’d finally found a soft-core monster flick that did it right.  Even when a scene of Tara posing for her photographer boyfriend began to look like a Playboy video, I was still optimistic.

Of course, things fall apart.  An unnecessary subplot about hidden treasure in the estate hijacks the story, leaving little development in the “how do I live with being a were-cat” department.  If your story is about people turning into supernatural entities, having sex, and sometimes killing, finding valuable objects doesn’t come off as very important.  All of the sexual escapades vanish from the film (along with any nudity) as the concern becomes who will gain possession of the valuable estate.  SHE’S A WERE-CAT!  WHO CARES ABOUT THE ESTATE?!

Tara’s relationship with the photographer is underdeveloped and feels tacked on.  Perhaps, if time hadn’t been wasted on the treasure hunt, something more could have been done there, though I doubt it as he wasn’t an interesting character.

To hurry the plot along, everyone’s actions become absurd in the last third.  The boyfriend drives to a fancy party without having put gas in his car.  Tara doesn’t call the police when she discovers a murder.  The bad guys discuss their plans loudly in a public spot, and carry out several acts which would certainly get them arrested as everything they do is easy to trace.

And then the movie ends.  Did they run out of film?  More likely they ran out of money.  Whatever the case, there is no climax and nothing is wrapped up.  The movie just stops.

Bodnar is an actress to watch, but even with the competent appearance of the film, that isn’t enough.  Catch it for free on late night cable and you’ll get your money’s worth.

 Reviews, Werewolves Tagged with:
Oct 061995
 
4.5 reels

Archangel Gabriel (Christopher Walken) has started a second war in heaven, but as angels are so well matched and lack originality, he needs a dark human soul to show him how to win.  The chosen soul is hidden by the angel Simon (Erich Stoltz) in a young girl and it is left to policeman Thomas Daggett (Elias Koteas) and teacher Katherine Henley (Virginia Madsen) to keep the soul from Gabriel.

Let me get what doesn’t work out of the way.  Elias Koteas displays all the charisma of a damp rag, a damp rag that’s been left on the floor to grow mold for a month.  His Thomas Daggett has lost his faith, and I couldn’t care less.  Virginia Madsen is fine, but it’s hard to figure why her character is in the film.  Would it violate some filmmaking law if there was no adult female in the picture?  Then there is the goal: to get the soul of a specific evil general.  Why him?  I get that he was evil, but aren’t there plenty of other humans with military expertise carrying out genocide as I write this?  Wouldn’t they do?  If not, how about four or five of them together?

So, with a poor lead, and a nonsensical plot, how can The Prophecy be good?  Ah, in so many ways.  First, there is writer/director Gregory Widen’s haunting and unforgettable take on angels.  I’ve seen the blissful, white-sheet angels all of my life.  But Widen, through Daggett, asks a chilling question for anyone who believes:

“Did you ever notice how in the Bible, whenever God needed to punish someone, or make an example, or whenever God needed a killing, he sent an angel? Did you ever wonder what a creature like that must be like? A whole existence spent praising your God, but always with one wing dipped in blood. Would you ever really want to see an angel?”

My answer is yes, but only from a distance and only if he doesn’t see me.  These are frightening creatures and The Prophecy shows that.  And they are not human.  Widen’s angels are a bit off, a little strange.  They perch, which is a genius stroke.  Even the good ones have a touch of pedophilia about them.  Obviously they aren’t sexually interested in children as it’s made very clear that they are asexual, but the way Simon gets Mary close and touches her is just a little uncomfortable.  Add in Gabriel with the school children in his lap and it makes me feel that there is something wrong about them, which is the idea.

The concept of the angels is brilliant, but the specific portrayals are even better.  Eric Stoltz’s Simon is an excellent representation of The Prophecy’s angels.  He is so sure of himself, and yet has no reason to be, no understanding.  The film, however, belongs to Christopher Walken.  Gabriel was the role he was born to play.  He is alien, frightening, and funny.  There is nothing he could have done better.  Many of the best moments are exchanges between him and his sidekicks (Amanda Plummer, Adam Goldberg), suicides who Gabriel has kept from death and forced into his service.  As he points out, he needs them because angels never learned to drive.  Finally, there is Viggo Mortensen (Aragorn in Lord of the Rings) as my favorite film Lucifer—powerful, smart, philosophical, and really, really scary.  In a gleeful voice, he tells Daggett, “How I loved listening to your sweet prayers. Then you would hop into bed, afraid that I was hiding under it. And I was!”

On top of all that, Widen creates a war in heaven.  Angels are fighting angels out of jealousy and neither side can win.  Where is God in all this?  No one knows, particularly the angels.  Some have faith, some don’t, and it’s hard to see which is better off.

The Prophecy is an imperfect movie, but it is filled with ideas, lines, and images that will stick with you for years.

It is followed by The Prophecy II and The Prophecy 3: The Ascent.  Two new films in the series are coming out in 2005, both lacking Walken.

Oct 051995
 
one reel

Eli (Daniel Cerny) and Joshua (Ron Melendez), two orphans from Gatlin, Nebraska, are taken in by a Chicago couple.  While Joshua adapts to city life, Eli plants corn in an abandoned factory and soon has the local teens joining the cult of “He Who Walks Behind the Rows.”

Those wild, Amish-dressing kids are back with more wacky corn-filled hijacks.  And once again, a potentially good horror film is ruined by substandard characters, a poorly conceived sub-plot, and a week ending.

As pure blood & death exploitation, Children of the Corn III has a lot to offer.  There’s a crucifixion by corn (with the victims eyes and mouth sewn shut), a water pipe through the back of the head (with first water, and then blood, pouring from the victim’s mouth), a beheading, and plenty of impalings.

Eli is a suitably creepy kid, and while a cult of urban teens in a factory lacks the potential chills of murderous children in a faraway cornfield, it is still an unsettling concept.

But much of the film abandons all the fun slicing and dicing, and gives us Joshua’s trials in fitting in at school, and how he doesn’t want to disappoint his brother.  It is every bit as much fun to watch as it sounds.

Hey, but if you need entertainment, you can play the “spot the actor who will never be in a film like this again” game.  Nicholas Brendon, of Buffy the Vampire Slayer fame,  is “Basketball Player One,” and Charlize Theron, from The Devil’s Advocate and an Oscar winner for Monster, is a teen sitting in the church.

The other films in the series are Children of the Corn, Children of the Corn II: The Final Sacrifice, Children of the Corn IV: The Gathering, Children of the Corn V: Fields of Terror, Children of the Corn 666: Isaac’s Return, Children of the Corn: Revelation.

Back to Demons

 Demons, Reviews Tagged with:
Oct 051995
 
two reels

Thirteen years ago, Philip Swann (Kevin J. O’Connor) and three other members of a cult killed their leader, Nix (Daniel von Bargen), and buried him with a mask to contain his powers.  In the present, Swan is a Las Vegas illusionist, hiding his real magic.  But he is scared.  Swan’s wife, Dorothea (Famke Janssen), hires detective Harry D’Amour (Scott Bakula), who is all too familiar with the occult, to keep Swan safe.  During the first performance of a new and dangerous illusion, Swan is killed.  Harry decides to stay and find out who was after Swan, what the violent cultist Butterfield (Barry Del Sherman) is after, and how this is tied to a dead cult leader.

Author Clive Barker is an artistic genius.  That doesn’t mean all his work is worth reading.  Quite the opposite.  Much is horrible.  Barker never writes anything that is just mediocre.  He succeeds or fails big.  I’ve read a lot of genre stories over the years, and discovering Barker was a revelation.  I found true marvels in his words.  But those words have not always translated well to the screen.  A few have been modern classics (Hellraiser, Candyman) while others were a mess.  After several of his stories were mishandled, Barker wanted to once again direct his work.  So, he made Lord of Illusions and it ended up…well…   You know that middle area I said Barker doesn’t end up in?  Well, we’re there now.  The low end of the middle anyway.

So, what went wrong, and why did it go wrong in such a minimal way?  Where are the grand mistakes?

This is a competently made film, with decent camera work, fine lighting, fitting music, and above average acting.  The special effects fall down once with a CGI flaming paper monster, but are OK elsewhere.  There is nothing there to complain about.  Instead, there is a fundamental failure in style and script.  Barker has pieces of two types of movies: a slick, enjoyable, supernatural Film Noir and an edgy, creepy, splatter show that could push the boundaries of horror filmmaking.  It doesn’t take a lot of thought to see these two things can’t work together.  What we end up with is a Noir that’s too brightly filmed, too simple, and lacks clever dialog and charm (In case you didn’t know Noirs were charming, read my Introduction to Film Noir.) and a slightly gritty, bloody horror film that is held in safe, well-traveled territory.

Harry and Dorothea are deep into the old-style Noir side of the picture.  The Harry character could have been set down in a ’40s detective flick and been right at home.  Scott Bakula is too light, too good-under-it-all for the hardcore, troubled personality he should portray, but that just means it’s more The Big Sleep in style than The Maltese Falcon.  Dorothea is elegant and sophisticated with a touch of danger and a few secrets.  Famke Janssen, stunningly beautiful as always, is a perfect Dorothea.  Put these two in a 1935 period piece, add a murder and a few mysteries to solve, a Freemason type secret society, and even bring along Valentin (Joel Swetow), the overly protective butler, and you’ve got a fun way to spend an hour and a half.  Harry and Dorothea could verbally spar over dinner, and later both happen to end up at a nightclub where they dance a romantic foxtrot.  It almost writes itself, which is good as it is hard to imagine Clive Barker writing it.

But what you can’t do with these characters is toss them into a modern day gore-fest.  They are stylized characters that belong to a time that only existed in the movies sixty years ago.

Nix, and even more so, Butterfield and the other cultists, are more in keeping with Barker’s twisted style of horror.  These guys need to be involved in things much sicker, much more extreme, than anything in Lord of Illusions.  Butterfield, and his even more psychotic friend, are the stuff of nightmares.  I can’t say where they should have ended up, but not in something so common.

When the film ends, very little has happened, both within Harry’s world, and to me.  I feel nothing for these folks.  The ending makes it all seem very unimportant (no spoilers here, except to say that it was far too simple).  It’s easy to spot what was good, but easier not to care.  I’ve seen  Lord of Illusions on the big screen, and more times than I can count on the small, and I never mind it being on, and never look for it when it isn’t.

 Horror, Reviews Tagged with:
Oct 051995
 
one reel

Hatch Harrison (Jeff Goldblum) is “resuscitated” after he died in a car accident by Dr. Jonas Nyebern (Alfred Molina).  This miracle has unforeseen side effects as Hatch can now see through the eyes of Vassago (Jeremy Sisto), a murderer who is hunting Regina (Alicia Silverstone), Hatch’s teenage daughter.

Finally, someone has merged Eyes of Laura Mars and The Lawnmower Man; I think it was a drunk monkey.  No, your average drunk monkey would know better.  Novelist Dean R. Koontz agrees as he wanted his name removed from this mutilation of his work.  Directed by Brett Leonard (who just happens to be the director of The Lawnmower Man) with the skill of that previously mentioned monkey, Leonard produces some pretty nice computer effects.  Of course someone might want to ask him why he put those effects into this film.  Apparently, when we die, we enter cyberspace and zoom around.  Angels and devils are also cyber constructs.  None of this computer stuff has anything to do with the story of Hideaway, but it’s the only way to explain the visuals.  Actually, the angels and devils don’t have much to do with it either, as they are just tacked on.

Back in ’78, Eyes of Laura Mars gave a woman the ability to see through a killer’s eyes, and made a nice mystery thriller from that concept.  Leonard and his writing team of blind ducks (see, I knew monkeys weren’t involved) decided to drop the mystery and those annoying thrills in favor of predictability and monotony.  Well, with that goal, he succeeded.

 Horror, Reviews Tagged with:
Oct 051995
 
three reels

Things don’t look good for the teens whose school is in the center of a giant pentagram, but what do you expect when you’ve got Satanists in the basement, a pervert teacher who feels up all the girls before they get in the door, and secret lesbians in the art room.  Nope, things don’t look good at all, that is, until Misa Kuroi (Kimika Yoshino) enters the scene.  She’s an attractive minx with good witch powers and intense eyes.  Problem is, she’s a bit slow on the uptake this time, and she and twelve other classmates find themselves trapped in the school, waiting to become sacrifices to a ritual that will resurrect Lucifier.  It’s going to be a bad night.

What’s Lucifer doing in Japan?  Part of the charm of J-horror is the non-Western religious and philosophical assumptions, but here we are with Satanists.  Oh well, pale female ghosts with stringy black hair are popping up in Hollywood films, so I suppose it’s some kind of horror exchange program.

Pre-dating the J-horror boom by several years, Eko Eko Azarak has many of the movements characteristics, but with a different tone.  There are girls in sailor school uniforms, tense music, and some incredibly bloody events, but Eko Eko Azarak doesn’t fit with Dark Water.  It’s a first cousin to anime.  The acting (voice and physical) is broader than reality and the dialog both simpler and more dramatic than necessary.  People scream when they should talk, jump when they should stand, and make loud, indefinable whines when they should sigh.  The proper descriptive word is “cartoonish.”  Of course that makes sense in anime, which is a type of cartoon.  For a live action production, everyone should have taken a dose of Prozac.  The exception is Kimika Yoshino, a popular teen model turned sometimes actress.  With deep liquid dark eyes, she’s brings not only the beauty that was her meal ticket, but a sense of calm and control that is greatly needed.

Following its anime sympathies, Eko Eko Azarak is a film that defies American expectations and sensibilities.  It is a film for adolescent boys and particularly girls, who are a few years younger than the characters and can hold up Misa Kuroi as a role model for the future.  But no U.S. film for twelve-year-olds would have bodies ripped apart with blood splattering over the windows or a topless schoolgirl in a lesbian kiss with her teacher.  U.S. films are the poorer for it.  For anime fans, this is old hat.

The story is simple: a group of teens run around in a building and get picked off.  It’s been done many times before (and since).  Happily, it works better here than in the dozens of slashers that do the same thing.  It never gets frightening, but it’s not light and fluffy either.  The deaths should satisfy most run-of-the-mill horror fans, and the surprising gore adds needed spice (there’s several stabbings and throat cuttings, a beheading, a group torn limb-from-limb, and a topless girl nailed to an altar).

Eko Eko Azarak is fun, in a Sabrina the Teenage Witch meets Sailor Moon meets House of a 1000 Corpses kind of way.  Yeah, dwell on that combo.  It’s the perfect film for brave, magic-loving tweens who can’t get enough lesbians.  Hmmm.  That might be a hard sell.

It was followed by Eko Eko Azarak II: Birth of the Wizard (1996), Eko Eko Azarak III: Misa The Dark Angel (1998), Eko Eko Azarak IV (2001), Eko Eko Azarak: R-page (2006), and Eko Eko Azarak: B-page (2006).

Oct 051995
 
two reels

In the future, when the Earth is covered by water, a loner (Kevin Costner) traveling the seas on his sailboat, makes a deal with a resident of a floating village to take her (Jeanne Tripplehorn) and a child (Tina Majorino) to safely.  He doesn’t know the child is being hunted by Deacon (Dennis Hopper) and his ocean-going marauders because she has a map to the mythical “dryland” tattooed on her back.

So, Mad Max travels alone, occasionally fighting raiders, until he comes to a settlement and…   Wait a second, this isn’t the The Road Warrior?  It sure looks like the The Road Warrior, with water switched for the sand, and of course without any of that bothersome talent.  I can imagine the meeting that greenlighted this project, with Costner and a Hollywood mogul or two sitting around, watching videotapes and drinking far too many beers.  After a double feature of The Road Warrior, and Shane, Costner burps and stumbles across the room, attempting his best tough-guy swagger.

“See, I..hick…I could do that.”  At which point, he falls over.
“Yeah, right,” says Mogul One, “you can’t even walk straight.”

“It’s like he’s walking on a boat that’s flopping,” says Mogul Two.

“I do not flop,” says Costner indignantly from the floor and fumbling for his zipper.

“Not flop.  You know, like a wave,” says Mogul Two before belching.

“Yeah!”  Costner jumps up only to fall down again.  “Me on a boat being Mel Gibson.”

“Boat!”  adds Mogul one.  “We could put the whole thing at sea.  So, you could have fins, and a blow hole.”

“I’m not having no blow hole.  People are already talking.”

“Ok.  OK.  Just some gills then.”

And the rest is history.  175 million piece of history, though the ridiculously high cost of the film, which doesn’t show on screen, isn’t nearly as important as how badly they bungled almost every aspect of the project.

First there is casting.  The biggest flaw there is Costner, who brings all the emotion to the screen that he demonstrated in Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves.  When you are too drab to play an emotionally stunted loner, what roles are left for you?  Victim of a sedative overdose in a hospital drama?  Gibson managed to toss in just the right amount of psychosis, and Eastwood (who did the part more times than anyone in his spaghetti westerns) had an undercurrent of rage.  Costner just looks sleepy.

Jeanne Tripplehorn isn’t obviously the wrong choice.  She is attractive enough (which makes me wonder just how much time each day do people in this post-apocalyptic, fresh water low environment, spend grooming?  A lot in her case.  That’s probably why they are low on drinking water.).  But she has zero chemistry with Costner.  That wouldn’t have been a problem if the script didn’t call for an unnecessary and impossible-to-believe romance.  Tripplehorn also spends most of the movie with an expression which says “I’ve just eaten bad fish,” but that could be a directing problem.

Finally there is Dennis Hopper, who thinks he was hired for a parody.  His entire performance could be spliced into an Austin Powers film.  Again, this is partly a directing problem as other parts of the movie are solemn.

The biggest problem is the script, which calls for us to accept far too many improbable events.  OK, the world is completely flooded with salt water due to the melting of the poles.  I guess I should just ignore science, as that’s not what would happen if the poles melted (poles which are covered in fresh water ice).  But I’ll give them that one.  Now the movie takes place far enough in the future that no one even remembers dry land or cities, and the stories passed down do not include the now sunken metropolises.  It has also been enough time for mutant humans with gills to appear (ummmm, I think that would be a loooong time).  Yet, there is a working airplane.  There are numerous functional jet skis.  There is ammunition.  There are flares.  And in a time when it is clear that  paper is extremely rare, and valuable (it certainly would be rare), there is tons of rolling paper.  Actually, it’s not just rolling paper, but cigarettes in packs, with filters.

Ah, but the script is not done being stupid yet.  It also has unbelievable events.  How about an untrained person shooting, and hitting, an airplane with a harpoon?  I’d be interesting in hearing of any cases, ever, where an expert hit a plane with a harpoon.  There is also the interesting choice of having a plane attack by towing skiers over a jump.  If you have a plane, there are lots of ways you can attack with it (like dropping things on your opponents), but that isn’t one of them.  The story also makes Costner’s Mariner a killing machine at one point, but unable to defend himself against two men at another, even when he could have jumped in the water and stayed there indefinitely.

Where the script really fails is with the kid.  Both The Road Warrior and Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome have children, and Thunderdome is often criticized for it.  But those close cousin films both avoid the cutesy kid moments.  In those, the children fit into the story and theme, keeping a rough edge.  In Waterworld we are subjected to “cute kid scenes,” including slow motion hugging with Kostner taking on the loving father role.  How sweet.  Now that’s what I want to see in my action picture.

The straight-up action scenes aren’t bad, though they should be better.  There are far too many shots of pulleys and levers on Mariner’s boat, and the choreographed jet skis and water skis start to look like a Florida water park show, but overall, when people are getting killed, it is watchable.

But that does lead to the final failing: editing.  With only the action and locations offering entertainment, the movie is far too long.  It starts slow, that then grinds to a halt in the middle and the three main characters sail about and bicker.  Supposedly, forty minutes were cut over the objections of the director.  Cut another forty, and Waterworld would be amusing, if still empty.

Oct 051995
 
two reels

After a comet has turned the world into a desert, Rebecca (Lori Petty) lives with her friends in the wastelands, stealing water from the Water and Power Corporation and its leader, the local dictator, Kesslee (Malcolm McDowell).  Without ever planning to, Rebecca ends up in a fight between Kesslee and the secretive, mutant Rippers.  Luckily, she has on her side a shy but plucky ace mechanic, Jet Girl (Naomi Watts), and her trusty stolen tank.

Wearing its comic heritage as a badge of honor, Tank Girl is a colorful, epileptic film for the short-attention-span generation.  Animated scenes and still illustrations pop in to compress what otherwise might be slow sections, and alterna-pop (and rap) fill any quiet moments.  Lori Petty has the joy for the role of the always happy, smartass punk who is never out of one-liners.  She runs about shooting people and initiating a Cole Porter dance number with equal foresight.

The film, and the underground comic that spawned it, have been labeled post-modern and post-feminist, which is too much for this flimsy flick to support.  There’s some fun, but if there’s a philosophy here, then Bart Simpson is Plato.

Even as an anarchic distraction, Tank Girl doesn’t quiet work.  The story is the stuff of fifty other cheap, grade-D flicks, with the post-apocalyptic desert acting as theqr the battle between a heroic warrior and an over-the-top, evil megalomaniac.  Replace Petty with any tall, beefed-up kick boxer and you’ve seen this film on late night.  It doesn’t help that Malcolm McDowell has played this same villain over and over.

But the reused plot is only part of the betrayal of the punk roots.  The entire tone is wrong.  This is subversive stuff, sanitized for your protection.  A true punk heroine would have been a pleasure, with excessive violence, nudity, and something to shock society.  Instead, the worst thing your grandma might say about Tank Girl is that she really should use less foul language.  Tank Girl shouldn’t be fighting the forces of darkness with a band of heroes (and saving children; my God she actually saves children!), but should be ripping at the structure of society.  Punk without the edge is just bad fashion.

What could have been an in-your-face cult classic is an amusing family film with some R-rated language.