Foster on Film – Page 79 – The Film Criticism of Matthew M. Foster

A Nightmare On Elm Street (1984)

Oct 091984

A girl (Heather Langenkamp) discovers her nightmares are being shared by her friends, and that those friends are dying. She must find a way to stop the killer (Robert Englund) in her dreams before she is murdered too.

Quick Review: I remembered this being better than it is. I saw it when it first came out, and over the years, the better-than-average plot (for a Slasher) and the semi-developed characters (again, an advance over the average Slasher) obfuscated the Slasher-level acting and amateurish direction. Wes Craven has learned quite a bit since this early film. A Nightmare On Elm Street is a significant film in the sub-genre and razor-gloved Freddy Krueger has become a cultural icon. But when you turn this on, don’t watch too closely; it can’t stand up to the scrutiny.

Reviews, Slashers Tagged with: Three Reels

Friday the 13th Part V: A New Beginning (1984)

Oct 091984

Tommy Jarivs (John Shepherd), who killed Jason in the fourth film, is the newest patient at a counseling facility that happens to be near Jason’s old stomping grounds. After Tommy shows up, people start dying. Is it Tommy, someone else wearing a hockey mask, or has Jason returned from the dead?

Set in some kind of weird 1950s/1980s hybrid-world where guys with leather jackets and pompadours drive hotrods and girls in pink work at the takeout joint (she just needed skates to finish the look), Friday the 13th Part V: A New Beginning is a rehash of the earlier films, with the victims having even less personality, but at least the cameraman knows how to work the equipment (which wasn’t true of Friday the 13th).

A bit of comic relief is added in the form of inbred yokels, but they aren’t very funny, and the scenes with Tommy dealing with his mental problems are taken as deep, meaningful drama. Hint: If your film is about a guy cutting up people and has no greater aspirations, try and make it fun.

What, if anything, sets this movie apart from the others in the series is the higher body count (loads of teens walk in and get killed), increased number of topless women (if sensation is all that counts, adding a bit of nudity to the violence is a smart move), and the identity of the killer. This film goes back to the series roots, where you don’t see the killer for a majority of the murders. A number of very questionable critics have attacked Part V for making it a mystery instead of just having old Jason do the exact same thing again. There are plenty of flaws in this flick, but not repeating every aspect of the last three films is not one of them.

It would be nice to spend a few seconds getting to know characters before they are chopped up, but I guess it doesn’t really matter—no small improvements were going to make Part V watchable.

The one laugh is unintentional, as a kid saves the girl from “Jason” by driving slow-moving construction equipment at him. It’s a serious version of the steamroller attack from A Fish Called Wanda (and also Austin Powers). That’s as good as it gets.

Reviews, Slashers Tagged with: One Reel

The Night They Saved Christmas (1984)

Oct 081984

Michael Baldwin (Paul Le Mat), working for an unreasonable boss (Mason Adams), is drilling for oil too close to Santa’s workshop. The head elf (Paul Williams) takes Michael’s wife, Claudia (Jaclyn Smith), and their three kids to visit Mr. and Mrs. Claus (Art Carney and June Lockhart) so they can hear about the danger, but no one believes them when they return.

This movie takes me back to the quality television of 1984. You know, that’s not someplace I want to be. What was it about mid-eighties, made-for-TV movies that makes them so easy to recognize, and even easier to discard? Don’t bother dwelling on it. Instead, keep on discarding.

The Night They Saved Christmas is dominated by Jaclyn Smith, who had hung up her halo as one of Charlie’s angels two years earlier. OK, so I’m planning a movie with one of the sex symbols of the era; is it clever to cast her as a mother and set the story in the arctic so you can’t see the curves that made her famous? Ms Smith has always been better known, and appreciated, for her appearance than her acting chops, and rightly so. That doesn’t stop her from giving the best performance in this flick, which should give you an idea of how dire things are.

Am I being too severe? This is a kid’s film, more by default since there’s not much here to interest adults. There’s Santa, the ultimate mom as Mrs. Claus, his elves, a colorful North Pole city, lots of gizmos, flying sleighs, and children in prominent roles. Isn’t that enough? Obviously my answer is no. The segments at the North Pole might be fun for your very young rug rats. Santa’s city is too small, the gadgets aren’t nearly as spectacular as even low budget movies can manage now, and not much happens, but it might be enough for a four-year-old. And you might find some amusement in Paul Williams dressed as an effeminate elf with eye shadow.

Away from Santa, things get bleak, and even the smallest child is going to look for something better to fill his time. Evil oil drilling isn’t any more exciting than benevolent oil drilling, and far too much time is spent dwelling on where to sink the next shaft, in a G-rated way. I’m more familiar with “Sight A” and “Sight B” than anyone ever needs to be. When we’re not part of corporate energy production, we’re stuck with the husband and boss stating their disbelief in anything Claudia and her children have to say. Those kinds of scenes are tricky. Miracle on 34th Street pulled them off, but here it’s just frustrating.

The characters are more of a problem than the story. All scenes with Michael or his boss are unpleasant. Sure, we’re supposed to dislike the corporate executive, but then he should have been evil, not just a jerk. If he was full-out, kids-film evil, then maybe it would make sense for him to tell a man who thinks his spouse and kids have died a horrible death to stop looking for the bodies and get back to work. Snidely Whiplash had better labor relations. But at least we’re not supposed to feel all warm about the boss. We are supposed to like Michael. He ought to be someone we can all feel for, but I wanted Santa’s sleigh to behead him with an extra sharp runner. In any Santa film, the person who doesn’t believe is harder to snuggle up to. So to make up for that, he ought to show extra concern for the people around him, like his wife and kids. Yet, when he believes Claudia and two of his children are freezing to death on the ice, he’s more worried about delivering papers and getting the drilling operation going at “Sight A.” I recall that finding new sources of oil was a pretty big deal in the mid-eighties, but not this big. He doesn’t even argue against setting off a huge explosion in an area where is family could be effected (or blown to bits). He only calls off the blast when his other crew strikes oil. That’s cold.

The Night They Saved Christmas wants to be cute, family entertainment, but the cuteness is stale, and the family is broken and unpleasant. There’s better ways to find Christmas cheer.

Christmas, Reviews Tagged with: One Reel

Gojira (1984)

Oct 081984

Godzilla has awakened after thirty years and heads toward Tokyo. As the Japanese prime minister deals with U.S.-Soviet tensions and the desires of the superpowers to use nuclear weapons against the giant monster, the military sends in its secret hovercraft. Meanwhile, a scientist, his assistant, her brother, and a reporter try to find another solution.

Note: This review is for the Japanese version with English subtitles. The U.S. release is substantially different.

After nearly a decade off, Toho, the studio behind the Godzilla franchise, wisely discarded all of the juvenile baggage their monster had picked up and went back to basics for Gojira. Gone is any connection to the movies of the ’60s and ’70s. Only the original classic is part of the back-story. Gone as well are the wrestling moves, the slapstick humor, and the giant lizard as a hero. Godzilla is once again a destructive force. The tone is serious and dark. Unfortunately, the metaphor is a bit too sloppy to carry meaning, and while the silliness is missing, so is the fun.

For the return of Godzilla, the big critter returns pretty slowly. He doesn’t show his face till thirty-two minutes in, and then only to pounce on a nuclear plant, and then disappear for almost another half hour. That could work if the time is spent ratcheting up the tension, but most of it is wasted. There’s some potential in the developing conflict between the U.S. and Soviets, and Japan’s refusal to bow to either, but it goes nowhere, and the chance of making Godzilla a metaphor for a new decade’s nuclear horrors slips out of reach.

As would be a problem with all of the “Heisei era” Godzilla flicks (’84-’95), there are too many characters. During the battles, we watch soldiers that we never see at any other time. Outside of battle, we get the prime minister and his cabinet, the wise scientist, his graduate student, her brother who survived Godzilla attacking his ship, and a reporter, and none of them are given enough screen time. Either the reporter or the survivor should have been dumped. Probably both. If they weren’t there, it would also save me the time wondering why the Japanese military allows a merchant seaman to carry out a dangerous helicopter maneuver just so he could be on hand when his sister is in trouble. Is the military short on trained personnel? I’m also curious why the reporter is allowed…well…anywhere. Why does the scientist let him hang around in the lab, and why does he get his own helicopter? What’s he doing in the movie at all? Oh, I remember what he’s doing; he’s taking up a lot of time.

Things improve once Godzilla starts doing that destructive thing he does. He’s never looked better, although he’s far from perfect. The bright eyes are particularly fake, and it is noticeable whenever they switch from a man in a suit to an animatronic head. But if you’ve been able to handle any of the Big-G’s previous incarnations, the faults will be easy to overlook. (Well, easier; they still bug me.) The miniature work has also improved, causing only the occasional unintended snicker.

Without a deep theme, or characters we can care about, the tragic mood of the movie is out of place. If the film was intended to be vacuous (as it turned out to be), then making it an action/adventure film would have been clever. Instead, it is a melodrama.

Gojira underwent substantial adjustments for its U.S. release, under the title Godzilla 1985. Like the 1954 original, chunks of the movie were removed to make room for segments with Raymond Burr, reprising his role as reporter Steve Martin. Also, as this was the height of the Regain era, the Soviets had to be painted as the bad guys, so a scene was changed to make a Russian officer purposely launch a nuclear missile, instead of trying to stop it as he did in the Japanese release.

Godzilla, Reviews Tagged with: Two & 1/2 Reels

The Company of Wolves (1984)

Oct 061984

A young, teenage girl, Rosaleen (Sarah Patterson), dealing poorly both physically and mentally with the onset of menstruation, dreams of a dark, fairytale world where werewolves are a constant threat. In the dream, her father (David Warner) hunts the wolves while her Grandmother (Angela Lansbury) tells her frightening stories. Eventually, she has to don her red, hooded cloak and heads for Grandmother’s house.

The Company of Wolves is a case of symbolism gone mad. Did the filmmakers fear the viewers would miss the first fifty metaphors, or was it just a game for them to see if they could make a film were everything represents something else? The subject is awakening sexuality and a woman’s coming of age, so the forest is filled with phallic plants and bestial, hairy men while Rosaleen drapes herself in a menses-colored cloak.

To go with the insane parade of representative imagery, there is little of plot or character. Both have only the depth of a fairytale, which is fine when reading a ten-page story by Perrault, but leaves an hour and a half feature feeling empty. Since only the symbols are important or developed, they need to convey a remarkable insight. They do not. Yes, girls grow up. Yes, it can be a troubling and confusing time for some. That’s about it. Does anyone need lolloping wolves and lipstick in birds’ eggs to illustrate this?

Not that there isn’t some fun in watching the bloated production. It is colorful, and while the sets appear as artificial as the behavior of the characters, they are beautifully ethereal. And once Rosaleen finally sets out as Little Red Riding Hood on the road to Grandma’s house, I was reasonably engaged.

In the 1980s, dynamic werewolf transitions were the rage. An American Werewolf in London and The Howling spent copious screen time focusing on these changes. Few of these ’80s-style special effects hold up, and most were disasters at the time. The Company of Wolves has several on-screen shape changes which vary from weak to ridiculous. One inspires giggles, which is troubling in a scene that is supposed to demonstrate danger and sexuality.

The fine performances of the actors, particularly Sarah Patterson, and the attractive design almost elevate the film to something worth more than a single, haphazard viewing, but they cannot overcome the pretension, simplicity, and sometimes lagging pace. The Company of Wolves is not nearly as smart as its makers surely thought it to be.

Reviews, Werewolves Tagged with: Two Reels

Ghoulies IV (1994)

Oct 051984

An insane ninja babe (Stacie Randall) must steal a gem from an ex-Satanist cop, Jonathan Graves (Peter Liapis), in order to conjure a powerful demon. When she makes a mistake with her magic, she accidentally summons two friendly, jive-talking midget-demons who want to return to hell. Helping Jonathan to stop her is his ex-girlfriend and boss, Kate (Barbara Alyn Woods).

I don’t think I’m being picky when I say that in my killer-sock-puppet movies, I’d like to see a killer-sock-puppet. In Ghoulies I-III, there were, well, ghoulies (the killer-sock-puppets in question), but none are to be seen here. There are two midgets in Halloween masks, if you happen to be looking for midgets in Halloween masks. Strangely, they have nothing to do with the story. They pop in, and then ride around in the backs of people’s cars with no one ever noticing they are there.

Unlike the previous two sequels, this one actually has a connection to the original film with the return of Peter Liapis as Jonathan Graves. Jonathan’s personality is completely different, but take your schlock movie connections how you can get them. In Ghoulies Jonathan inherited a house from his sorcerer father and became obsessed with conjuring evil power. Now, he’s just a jerk who is unpleasant to his hot, prostitute girlfriend, psychotic around his partner, and a general idiot. It’s hard to like him, but that doesn’t mean you couldn’t like the film. You won’t, but the main character isn’t the reason.

While the acting is far from stellar, it isn’t distractingly bad and I’ve seen many inferiorly shot movies. Plus the three female leads are cute and all have a bit of character development. So, there was the potential for an enjoyable, horror-comedy exploitation film. After all, it is filled with light moments and every woman who isn’t evil or a cop is a prostitute. Unfortunately, the “comedy” isn’t funny and there is no exploitation. The “R” rating must come from the concept of prostitutes as there is no skin or blood. I like my exploitation more exploitive.

A few sock-puppet demons and some gratuitous nudity, and Ghoulies IV could have been a guilty pleasure. Instead, it’s just a tease.

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Demons, Reviews

Ghoulies (1984)

Oct 051984

The son of an evil sorcerer inherits his father’s house and finds books of Satanic rituals. With a few magic words, he summons the demonic Ghoulies along with a pair of dwarf devils, and plans a far greater ritual that requires multiple sacrifices.

One of the killer hand-puppet films that followed Gremlins, Ghoulies was a masterpiece of marketing, making enough money for Charles Band to start up Full Moon Entertainment. The sales pitch was quite clever. They made everyone believe that this was a light-hearted film about fuzzy little creatures that caused havoc and played practical jokes. Actually, it was a slow, overly dramatic, Satanic horror film. The “Ghoulies” are hardly in the picture and never do anything of importance. I suspect that the original script didn’t include them and when Gremlins was a hit, the fur-bags were added without making any substantial changes.

As for the non-puppet part of the film, I’ve seen a lot worse, but that doesn’t mean it has anything of interest. It makes little sense, isn’t frightening or funny, and mainly involves one of several sorcerers standing around with glowing green eyes, or a bunch of supposedly college-age partiers having dinner and hitting on each other (don’t expect to see skin from that; this is a PG-13 that should have been PG).

However, I did have fun watching, mainly from my wife giggling and saying “How cute” whenever a Ghoulie was doing one of its evil deeds. The hand-puppets (which are sometimes stop motion and sometimes marionettes) are far from intimidating. I hope that when the forces of evil come to my town, they will forget about calling forth giant demons or plagues, and will instead unleash a hoard of maladjusted Muppets.

This is one of those very few “so bad it’s good” films. Just make sure you’ve got someone nearby to say “Awwww, the furry little guy is trying to bite his eye. How cute.”

It was followed by Ghoulies II, Ghoulies III: Ghoulies Go to College, and Ghoulies IV.

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Demons, Reviews Tagged with: Two Reels

Children of the Corn (1984)

Oct 051984

Three years ago, the children of Gatlin, Nebraska murdered everyone over eighteen at the command of Isaac (John Franklin), a child preacher who hears the words of “He Who Walks Behind the Rows.” Now, Burton and Vicky Stanton (Peter Horton, Linda Hamilton) have found themselves in the nearly abandoned town, where Isaac and his lieutenant, Malachai (Courtney Gains), plan to sacrifice them.

Yet another film based on a Stephen King story, Children of the Corn is a godsend for anyone who likes watching people drive around and listening to them call out people’s names. For the rest of you, go find a book. Hell, go find the book this was based on. Just do something else.

It starts well, with the restaurant slaughter of the adults by children with sickles and knives. This would have been chilling except for a deeply unnecessary voice-over by a young kid telling us what we are seeing. This periodic narration ruins several other scenes before it stops, for no better reason than the one it had for starting.

Things continue downhill, as a kid who attempts to escape the cult is engulfed by romance music, as if the child is running to meet a lover rather than to escape a corn god. To offset this, the music switches from time to time to a religious chant. It doesn’t help.

The child is hit by the Stanton’s car, but doctor Stanton assures his wife that they didn’t kill him; the child was already dead from a slit throat. He was just standing in the middle of the road…dead. Wow, I can’t tell you how much I don’t want this guy as my doctor. In case any of you are equally misinformed, let me enlighten you: dead people don’t stand, in the road or anywhere else.

Ah, but that’s only one of the comical things said and done by the good doctor, whose presence guts the film’s attempts to create tension or pull the watcher in. He just isn’t believable. He carries on his bizarre behavior by covering the child’s body, and then telling his wife “Something’s not right. You go back to the car. Just do as I tell you.” I guess he’s from a strict 1820s family that knows the place of women. But why does he send her back to the car? Because he thinks the murderer is nearby, probably watching, and wants to check the cornfield. So, he abandons the little woman to the possible machinations of the killer as he stumbles around playing amateur sleuth. He also likes to walk into other people’s houses. When the town looks like a plague has struck, his reluctance to drive to another town, one with a police force, only makes sense if he was in on the killings. He’s not. Upon finding a young girl, he dismisses what she has to say, ignoring her warning of the fanatics in the cornfield, and again, abandons his wife. I don’t think that’s the way to keep a happy marriage. Let me check. Nope. My wife says it’s not.

At the blood-drinking, religious service, Doctor Nutcase rushes in and lectures the cultists on the Bible. One stabs him (no kidding). Does he learn? Nope. When he finds the homicidal, armed branch of the cult, instead of running, he stands in the middle of them and again, lectures them. “Any religion without love and compassion is false.” Yeah, that should stop zealot-butchers.

Working with the poorly conceived doctor character, there is the inadequate acting talents of the cast (which is understandable as many are children), and the crude cinematography. But it could have been an acceptable horror flick if it had a decent script. It doesn’t. Taken from one of King’s short stories, nothing is added and there isn’t enough meat for ninety minutes. The slight plot is filled out with endless scenes of the couple driving down rural roads and through cornfields. It’s not suspenseful. It’s not exciting. It’s just long.

The other films in the series are Children of the Corn II: The Final Sacrifice, Children of the Corn III: Urban Harvest, 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.

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Demons, Reviews Tagged with: One Reel

Runaway (1984)

Oct 051984

In the near future, when robots do most daily chores, and often break down and damage people and property, Sergeant Jack Ramsay (Tom Selleck) is in charge of shutting down “runaways.” With his new partner, Karen (Cynthia Rhodes), he stumbles upon a scheme by madman Dr. Charles Luther (Gene Simmons) to turn robots into killing machines. He also finds Jackie Rogers (Kirstie Alley), who has the templates for the chips that Luther needs to complete his work.

Some age gracefully. Me? I’ve seen better days. So has Runaway. Not exactly a gripping tale of the future when it was made, its mix of intelligent, boxy robots, mounted laser weapons, and 1980s society makes me feel like I’m meeting a business executive with a mullet and a leisure suit.

Writer-director Michael Crichton may be the most successful science fiction writer of our times, financially anyway, though he seems none too thrilled by science. His Luddite opus Jurassic Park is imaginative and compelling. Unfortunately, the same can’t be said for Runaway. Setting it in a future that looked a bit different than 1984 would have helped. Even in my first viewing back in 1984, the robots seemed out of place. Viewed again after twenty years, this “future” is decidedly old fashioned. Crichton presents a world where robotics has advanced, though Ford hasn’t put out a new car model. Well, that and police departments have retrofitted their unchanging cars with lasers.

I could, after a few snickers and a smart-alecky comment or two, have moved on from the limited view of the future, if any invention had gone into the story or characters, but this is where Crichton really fell down. Heaped with clichés that weren’t interesting the first time, we’re given the tough cop who does things his way, a gruff police chief who yells at him, and the attractive female partner who falls for him. There’s even a son tossed in for the sole purpose of being kidnapped. Each person is given only dialog that fits the stereotype. It’s all covered with a tinny, electronic soundtrack that sounds like an old-school MIDI track.

Gene Simmons (of the band KISS) makes a suitable, glaring villain, and if his acting is unremarkable, that still makes him the best in the cast. Several robot attacks, particularly where mini-bots chase down a police car, are exciting, and Kirstie Alley is attractive. Runaway offers nothing more you haven’t seen better somewhere else.

Cyberpunk, Reviews Tagged with: Two Reels

Nineteen Eighty-Four (1984)

Oct 041984

Winston Smith (John Hurt) is a clerk at the Ministry of Truth in the totalitarian state of Oceania. His job is to “correct” old newspapers to bring them into line with current reality. His every move is watched and controlled by Big Brother, the absolute leader. But Winston knows nothing of reality. He doesn’t know if Oceania is really at war, if Big Brother exists, or what year it is (he assumes it is 1984). And he hates the government and Big Brother, silently, taking no action, until Julia (Suzanna Hamilton) slips him a note with the forbidden words “I love you.” Soon after, he meets O’Brien (Richard Burton), who may be a member of the resistance.

George Orwell’s chilling, anti-totalitarian work is the most important political novel ever written and may well be the most important novel of any kind. It not only presents a sickening dystopia that we could easily slip into, but points out the tools and tricks and foolish mistakes that can take us there. It clearly shows why you can never give up your freedom, never blindly trust the government, never let the press and language be corrupted by those with power, and never allow fear of war and terrorists to make you a willing pawn. It doesn’t take much work to see how this is relevant to our current U.S. political situation, but then, it is relevant to all societies and all times. It is a guide to keeping the world someplace worth living.

That’s a lot to live up to with a film. While no movie can replace Orwell’s words, and his novel should be read first, director Michael Radford’s version is worth your time. He captures the oppressive environment of Oceania. The retro-nineteen-forties city has a brownish-green hue that adds to the hopeless feeling as video screens everywhere announce great victories and denounce traitors.

Richard Burton, with his remarkably powerful voice, here restrained, is the perfect choice as the representative of absolute control. It was his last role and one of his best. Suzanna Hamilton outshines him in her role as the enigmatic Julia. She projects the proper mix of sexuality, insanity, innocence, and desperation. Julia’s motivations and beliefs are never explained, nor should they be. We see what Winston sees and there is not enough freedom for him to ever know much.

While Radford paints the world better than expected, the film never pulled me in. I never felt myself one of the oppressed, paranoid citizens, which I did feel when reading the book. The problem is Winston Smith, and John Hurt’s portrayal of him. Hurt has no problem acting as a sick, withered, and beaten man. But he never manages to be the everyman that Winston needs to be. I was never with him, just watching him.

The long torture scene also fails to elicit the terror it should, but that’s very difficult to pull off and I can’t say how Radford could have improved it, only that it isn’t good enough. Perhaps that is something that can only be conveyed by the novel.

I was also disappointed by the end. After being so true to the book, Radford decides to alter the most important moment, diminishing its meaning. In this version, Winston seems still to have reservations. He is a sad figure who appears to have accepted his fate rather than embraced Big Brother.

I was lucky as a kid to see the other film version, 1984 (1956) multiple times. I loved it then, as much as anyone can love a trip through such a bleak world. Pressure from Orwell’s widow has removed that film from distribution (I’d think reading the book would have shown her the danger of censorship). I’m not sure what I’d think of it now, more than thirty years later, but a few things about it have stuck with me. The most important of these is the ending, when Edmond O’Brien stands and yells out his love for Big Brother. His eyes are wide and his grin, joyful. He has lost his soul so completely. That is one of the images that made me love cinema, and Hurt’s mumbling is no replacement.

Dystopia, Reviews Tagged with: Three Reels

The Ice Pirates (1984)

Oct 041984

Space pirates Jason (Robert Urich) and Roscoe (Michael D. Roberts), along with their crew (Anjelica Huston, John Matuszak, and Ron Perlman) raid “Templar” ships to steal water, the most valuable substance in the galaxy. Their most recent attack goes wrong and they are captured, but Princess Karina (Mary Crosby) frees them so they can help find her lost father, who was searching for the mythical seventh world of water.

A Swashbuckler with a Sci-Fi trappings, The Ice Pirates is generally called a parody, because somehow, calling a failed comedy a “parody” excuses the humor falling flat. It also can be used as a justification for swiping plot and characters from better films. But The Ice Pirates takes it a step further and actually steals jokes from other parodies (the heroes hiding out in a line of eunuchs was funny in Mel Brooks’ History of the World: Part 1; here it is…cute).

While part of the late-’70s/early-’80s Star Wars rip-off craze, The Ice Pirates owes much more to the television show Buck Rogers in the 25th Century, including the overall tone and the boogie-down tendencies of the robots. The effects also look like something you’d expect to see on ’70s TV.

The story starts with the pirates raiding a ship of the evil Templars who rule the galaxy through their water monopoly. With huge energy reserves, I don’t know why everyone isn’t making water from hydrogen and oxygen, but it’s best not to question such things. More troubling is that the scarcity of water has no effect on anything, and the monopoly plot is forgotten (except for calling Earth, “The Water World”). Perhaps I shouldn’t worry about storylines vanishing, but this isn’t a standup routine, it’s a movie; if the filmmakers didn’t care about them, why stick them in the movie at all?

I wonder how much of the script was written based on what costumes and set dressings they found at the studio. Characters wear a mixture of fantasy tunics, chain mail, leather from a biker flick, Arabian robes, and spacesuits from a dozen low budget films. Anjelica Huston makes a surprisingly fetching Xena-like babe, and the other characters’ outfits aren’t embarrassing, but it all looks tossed together. The sets don’t do as well, being half the size they should be but being packed with twice the needed junk. Perhaps if the director knew where to place a camera, every scene wouldn’t look claustrophobic.

The editing is primitive, with sudden jumps to the middle of unrelated moments. Often, it appears sections of the movie are missing. And then the film ends, not with the completion of anything, but as if they ran out of film.

While a juvenile mess of a movie, with so many gags, a few are bound to be at least mildly amusing. I never laughed, but I smiled from time to time. And watching it was never an unpleasant experience. Well, the disco songs (which are mixed with the high adventure music to make a confused score), were pushing it.

Here’s a movie where they don’t re-shoot scenes when the actors crack up, which happens to both Urich and Roberts. The Ice Pirates isn’t horrible, and that’s as high a recommendation as I can give it.

Reviews, Space Opera Tagged with: Two Reels

Flash Gordon (1984)

Oct 041984

This week, our plucky hero Flash (Sam J. Jones), along with new girlfriend Dale (Melody Anderson) and the genius Dr. Zarkov (Topol), journey into space to stop the emperor Ming the Merciless (Max Von Sydow) from destroying Earth. Will Flash be able to resist the lascivious advances of Ming’s daughter (Ornella Muti)? Will he be able to combine the forces of the prince of the tree people (Timothy Dalton) and the lord of the hawkmen (Brian Blessed)? Don’t miss the exciting adventures of Flash Gordon to find out!

Flash Gordon isn’t bad for what it is, but what it is isn’t much. When you start with the idea of a camp space opera—recreating nothing more than was done in the 1930s serials and the comic strips—if you attain your goal, you can still only be so good. Flash Gordon does hit the bull’s-eye as a good natured, brainless, homage to past sci-fi. It sits uncomfortably in that spot between embarrassing and cult classic. It’s a cinematic take on a drag show—garish, loud, shiny, sometimes funny, sometimes stupid, and not something you’ll talk about with your overly proper Aunt Gertrude.

It’s in the design where the flick is at its best. The art deco spaceships and brightly colored costumes capture the 1930s era vision of the future while looking far more impressive than anything from the real time period could have. It’s hard not to get swept up in the fun of golden-masked evil-doers, and slave girls in chainmail bikinis.

The acting can’t live up to the sets, but quality acting would be out of place. Max Von Sydow is the standout, somehow striking a delicate balance of high camp and sophistication. He’s the evil Ming that any fan of the original comics (are there any fans still alive?) would have wished for. Sam Jones looks the part of Flash, and does his best, but it isn’t enough. It’s not clear if Jones lacks the skill to bring the character to life or if the script didn’t allow him to. I’m inclined to split the blame. You are left with the impression that Flash is a big, dumb, Duddly Do Right, but he could be a part time brain surgeon or an escapee from a mental institution for all the development he’s given. Melody Anderson, Topol, and a very sexy Ornella Muti, all look like they are having a blast, and supply just enough personality to their respective characters. On the other hand, Brian Blessed (Much Ado About Nothing, Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves) is having too much fun. Never a subtle actor, he seems to think the audience is made up of hard-of-hearing eight-year-olds. Nobody told Timothy Dalton (who was later stuck with the worst James Bond scripts) that this was supposed to be silly fun, so he attacks it with an earnestness normally reserved for Shakespeare (and then, only the tragedies). When Dalton, Blessed, and Jones are onscreen simultaneously, any illusion of coherence is lost.

With the addition of an unforgettable soundtrack from Queen (really, you can’t forget it, no matter how much you try; go ahead, listen—it will be with you till you die), Flash Gordon stakes its claim to the title of ultimate pointless spectacle. It never reaches the mindless pleasure of the similar Barbarella, but has its own gaudy charm.

Reviews, Space Opera Tagged with: Two & 1/2 Reels

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