Cars on film

Just finished watching The Birds for the first time (I'll wait for the laughter to subside . . . no, I can wait), and what's still stuck in my craw (not gonna say beak) isn't the gorgeous birds-eye matte painting shot of the town after the explosion or even the perfect ending, it's . . . Tippi Hedren's car. It vaulted to the top of my list of favorite movie cars, which I've been meaning to share for some time.

TVR Tuscan (Swordfish)
One of many reasons to enjoy Swordfish, John Travolta's car fit in perfectly with the odd heist tale. TVR has long made cars that come under the 'no fucking way' category of the U.S. automobile safety regulations. Save for spending thousands on bumper retrofitting, you'll never see one in America. It's a shame, because TVRs always come in erotic shapes of high tech goodness (some of their cars have famously featured no keys, rather a fob that activates the electronics for push-button entry and ignition) that also have a viciously overpowered engine thrown in for good measure. The current Tuscan is even more outrageous than the one you see and will hopefully find its way to Hollywood soon.

Peugeot 406 and Mercedes-Benz 450SEL (Ronin)
Ronin is unabashadly a car movie, with director John Frankenheimer resurrecting the pioneering techniques he used in Grand Prix to create two of the most memorable car chases ever seen. Frankenheimer wisely stayed away from using well-known, pricey cars, instead choosing cars with more personality. The Peugeot 406 is one of these, made by a company wrongly vilified by any American who remembers their unsuccessful run across the Atlantic. The French automaker with the cool logo is known to the rest of the world as a maker of stylish and sporty cars. The 406 is their fast and maneuverable sedan, though if I had the chance my money would gravitate toward the wildly popular 306 GTi-6, its sheep-in-wolf's clothing hatchback complete with a six-speed shifter. Long before Vin Diesel, Frankenheimer's stunt driver threw a 406 into perhaps the most impossible power slide in cinema history. The Mercedes is on the other end of the spectrum, when MB would churn out luxurious muscle cars with hoods of alligator proportions. While DeNiro is busy aiming his rocket launcher at an unsuspecting Citroen, a grandma's trunk-sized 6.9-liter V8 is pumping out over 400 lb.-ft. of torque.

Lamborghini Espada (Auto Focus)
This car is only on-screen for about five seconds, but the fact that Willem Dafoe's character drives one seems so right. The Espada was a very curious and unsuccesful car produced by Lamborghini, some quirky combination between a sports car and a station wagon. You'll never (ever) see one on the road, and they're even rarer to see at a car show, but it was the perfect choice for a smarmy guy like Dafoe's character. The Espada is a favorite of mine, but as far as I can tell, its cousin the Miura has never been featured on film. The Miura was the best car Lamborghini ever made and is No. 1 on my list of sexy autos.

1968 Dodge Charger R/T (Bullitt)
All the attention of Bullitt's famous chase scene seems to fall on McQueen's Mustang GT, but the star of the movie for me (outside of McQueen) is the Charger. In my opinion, the '68 edition is one of the best-looking American cars ever made, and certainly tops among muscle cars. There's something menacing about that front grille, and the rear seems like an American take on Ferrari's look. Most of all, it still has a humbly dignified look about it, which makes it all the more fun when the Charger starts carving up the San Francisco hills while chasing McQueen's Mustang.

Aston Martin DB2 (The Birds)
Luckily I was alone when I saw this car's entrance, because I nearly lost it. You just don't see Aston DB2s, much less someone driving one as Tippie Hedren does in 'The Birds.' At the time of the 'The Birds' release in 1963, Astons were steadily becoming popular in America, probably peaking in 1964 when James Bond introduced the world to the marvelous DB5. But the DB2 was first produced in 1950, and I'm confident hardly any made their way across the Atlantic. According to Wikipedia, only 411 total DB2s were produced from 1950-53 and of those, only about 102 were convertibles like the one in The Birds. But the most amazing part about the one in The Birds is that it's left-hand drive. For a small-time automaker like Aston Martin, making a batch of left-handers for Western Europe and (maybe) North America was a costly luxury, and I would guess that fewer than half the 102 convertibles produced were left-hand drive, and who knows how many of those scant few survive today. An immaculate DB2 like the one portrayed in 'The Birds' would literally be priceless today, in the right market it could command seven figures.

The Five Characters You Meet in Hell

There are villains, and there are assholes. There is bad, and there is evil. Film will always be filled with monsters of inumberable size and strength, but sometimes our greatest fear lies with someone just an inch or two taller than us. Someone who can take two years off your life with the right stare. I've always been fascinated with these rare movie characters. In fact, with the final two, I've regularly referred to them as 'the worst person ever' when describing the movie to someone. That thought inspired me, who are the worst people on film? Who are the people you wouldn't even want to share a state with. Keep in mind I'm not referring to the Hannibal Lecters or American Psychos out there, the five in my list inflict the most entertaining torture with their mouths and eyes, and the decisions they make.

5. Max Cady (Cape Fear, 1962)
It's a shame that it's the original Cape Fear which is largely forgotten in the shadow of Scorsese's 1991 remake, even though it's the superior version. This isn't the time to go into it, but let's just say that Nick Nolte carries the Sam Bowden role about as well as Ben Affleck would have portrayed Humphrey Bogart's Rick in the once-rumored Casablanca remake. Though DeNiro's Cady is fine in the remake, he couldn't duplicate what Robert Mitchum brought to the role. Mitchum was rare in that his characters' charm was often just as inviting as their malice was frightening (see: Night of the Hunter). 'Cape Fear' is the best example, as Cady uses his appeal as a weapon, luring women and the community in before showing his teeth. One of Mitchum's trademarks was his smile, which he could flip on to convey either sincerity or absolute terror. It's devilishly on display here, as he makes Gregory Peck's Bowden into a prisoner in his own town.
Hellish moment: "I got somethin' planned for your wife and kid that they ain't nevah gonna forget. They ain't nevah gonna forget it... and neither will you, Counselor! Nevah!"

4. Capt. Hank Quinlan ("Touch of Evil")
Orson Welles' last real Hollywood role and directing job. Basically blacklisted and hardly resembling his former self, Welles was given a gift to direct and star in a Charlton Heston vehicle, which would later be recognized as a masterpiece. Welles gained even more weight to portray the grotesque and reprehensible Quinlan, from which racism and corruption ooze almost as much as his trademark sweat. The head of police in a border town, Quinlan regards Heston's Vargas less than any other Mexican, because he is actually in a position of power, as a visiting narcotics officer. Vargas sees right through Quinlan's good guy act, but can do almost nothing because the locals (including a barely recognizable Joseph Cotten) regard him as a god. In an unforgettable scene, we see through deft direction and writing how Quinlan can easily frame anyone -- and how powerless someone like Vargas is to stop it. Quinlan may as well have been the inspiration for Jabba the Hutt, and his death gives way to the film's final -- and most memorable -- line, delivered by Marlene Deitrich: 'What does it matter what you say about people?' (I realize it doesn't really stand out in print, but on the film it hits you in the gut).
Hellish moment: "That wasn't no miss, Vargas. That was just to turn you 'round, so I don't have to shoot you in the back. Unless you'd rather run for it."

3. Stansfield ("The Professional")
I knew this role had embedded Gary Oldman in movie history when I was taking an acting class in college. On the first day we were asked to say a few things about ourselves, including our favorite actor. I recall about 80% of the men -- including me -- replied 'Gary Oldman,' and I just knew the rest of them were thinking -- like I was -- of this role when we said that name. Though he has been in better films (not named 'Lost in Space') and had more profound roles, it is the ferociously corrupt cop named Stansfield that won Oldman a generation of fans. The Professional is much more about two other characters, but when Stansfield is onscreen, you can't look away. His every move is that of barely subdued volcanic anger and violence, ready to explode if not for his pills and classical music. When a young Natalie Portman unwisely walks into the men's bathroom at the police station and we see Stansfield standing behind the door, it is one of the most 'oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck' moments you'll ever see. And when Stansfield says 'everyone,' he means 'EVERYONE!!!!!!!'
Hellish moment: "What filthy piece of shit did I do now?"

2. Don Logan ("Sexy Beast")
To know Don Logan is to know complete and unfailing misery. Part of me knows he's No. 1 on this list, but another says no one can possibly top who I've got there. Don Logan makes it a good fight. In Jonathan Glazer's unexpected masterpiece, Ben Kingsley gives the performance of his life, of most people's lives. Before we see Logan, we know how awful he is, because the very mention of his name spoils a pleasant evening. But then we see him. In his first shot, Kingsley is only given a suit jacket to hold and the direction to walk through an airport terminal, but in this seemingly simple description comes an unnerving vision of ... the worst person ever. Every nerve ending in Logan's body is cranked up to 12, and the only part of his life he can enjoy is getting his way. Logan must bring 'Gal' back from retirement for one last job, and when told 'no,' Logan almost laughs because he knows now the fun can begin. He uses almost no violence (save for a boot to the face to wake Gal up one morning in his own house), but those around him are in constant pain. Of all the terrible characters here, Logan has by far the best introductory line: 'I'm gonna have to change my shirt, it's sticking to me, I'm sweating like a cunt!'
Hellish moment: "What you think this is the wheel of fortune? You think you can make your dough and fuck off? Leave the table? Thanks Don, see you Don, off to sunny Spain now Don, fuck off Don. Lying in your pool like a fat blob laughing at me, you think I'm gonna have that? You really think I'm gonna have that, ya ponce. All right, I'll make it easy for you. God knows you're fucking trying. Are you gonna do the job? It's not a difficult question, are you gonna do the job, yes or no?"

1. Frank Booth ("Blue Velvet")
No one else can genuinely occupy this spot. In Hell, not even Satan himself would want to walk near Frank. Somehow, David Lynch was able to extract from Dennis Hopper the worst vision of humanity anyone has ever witnessed. Sure, he's given lines which scare on their own, but when Frank says 'let's hit the fucking road!' you know Kyle MacLachlan's character is instore for the worst night of his life, and what a ride it is. The Scene (that's The Scene) at Ben's could consume a whole post for the amount of perfect horror and awkward humor it produces. At Ben's, we see the caliber of psychological mayhem Frank possesses and almost don't want to know what's coming next. It's grotesque, but not in turn-away-grotesque, not even visually grotesque, just in the way Frank seems realistically capable of almost any atrocity imaginable, and that he has his buddies along for the ride. The rare times he's not talking, Frank has a look on his face that may not ever again be seen on film: it's unfathomably intense, yet bitterly believable at the same time. The only other time Hopper even tried to regain the 'glory' of Frank was in Red Rock West, and it didn't come close. There's only one Frank. Only one person can be the worst ever.
Hellish moment: "Don't be a good neighbor anymore to her. I'll have to send you a love letter! Straight from my heart, fucker! You know what a love letter is? It's a bullet from a fucking gun, fucker! You recieve a love letter from me, and you're fucked forever! You understand, fuck? I'll send you straight to hell, fucker!... In dreams... I walk with you. In dreams... I talk to you. In dreams, you're mine... all the time. Forever!"

'This is a world getting progressively worse, can we not agree on that?'

Even though I have not read it, I'm sure it's been said that A Scanner Darkly is an unfilmable book, much like Heart of Darkness once was. But in the hands of the impossibly-talented Richard Linklater, 'Darkly' becomes believable enough to terrify and comes across you at so many different levels that -- like many of Linklater's projects -- you need multiple viewings to appreciate all of them.

To try and write a synopsis of 'Darkly' is an exercise in futility, partly because I'm not sure I understood it entirely, but also because it largely takes a backseat to Linklater's themes of addiction and big government. It's set in the future, but the only advancements we see are the new technologies being used by the government (the scanners) to record seemingly everyone's daily life. A drug called Substance D is taking over the country, but its makers are using the strict drug laws to their advantage. One agency may have found a way to the top of the chain, but only a flawed, illegal plan will allow them a glimpse.

Throughout most of the film, you struggle to understand just where 'Darkly' is going, and only until the last 15 minutes do you really start to grasp what it's all about. But that doesn't detract from the film's enjoyment, because Linklater (as usual) is able to pack his frame with memorable characters and scenarios. There's one sequence in particular which lasts about 20 minutes and ultimately has nothing to do with the main plot, but is a riot nonetheless as the three main characters dissolve into a wreck of mad paranoia.

Although Keanu Reeves is the main character, it's Robert Downey Jr.'s Barris that often carries the film. He manages to constantly come across as both genius and nuts, with some scenes acting as nearly a one man show for his character.

Much has been made about Linklater's use of rotoscoping (or whatever new word he's given it), the exhausting process of layering filmed material with animation pushed the film's release date back over six months, but the result cannot be argued. The technique allows Linklater to manipulate the visuals so they're just beyond reality, and the tricks he uses to illustrate the effects of drug use are something a conventional film could not approach. At the same time it's not distracting, but draws you in even more, never once doubting that you're watching actors performing.

With that said, 'Darkly' never stands on its visuals alone, instead it has a dense, quotable script which keeps the action moving through (at times lengthy) conversation. Despite having almost zero action elements, 'Darkly' remains an entertaining scifi trip because it's packed with ideas and leaves it to the viewers to interpret many of them. Like most of Linklater's projects, 'Darkly' isn't so much a straightforward narrative, as it is a series of connected scenes which could easily stand on their own. We're dropped into the middle of their world as many of the important plot points have already happened, but since the chronology is constantly foggy and we sometimes drift into flashbacks, it's tough to decide just what -- if any -- of the story is reality.

After seeing 'Darkly,' it's hard to imagine how Linklater could take on projects such as Bad News Bears or even School of Rock, but it may be his way of punching a ticket for complete creative freedom on movies that will likely make a studio no money. As much as everyone loves Wes Anderson, he's never produced a box office hit, maybe one day we'll see his name attached to 'Aquaman.'

Pack a cutless, and a lunch

By now you've no doubt heard the critical wails regarding the running time of Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest (more on that later, unfortunately), and while that certainly detracts from enjoying this swashbuckler, this is still a movie you need to see in theaters. Even if you didn't like or see the first one, you must give 'Dead Man's Chest' a chance just for the opportunity to see the new benchmark of digital effects. The achievements on display here are of the caliber which will cause George Lucas to cough and leave the theater early. Literally amazing, and you don't find yourself saying that very often in this CGI world we live in.

The effects are so good that casual viewers will not even realize they're looking at something which took hundreds of silicon hours to create. Director Gore Verbinski has so much confidence in his effects that he fills scenes with extreme close-ups of his digital creations, just so geeks like me can scrutinize every gill, looking for a pixel, and finding none. You have to wonder what the early stages of this film was like, explaining to production designers that the main adversaries were men resembling sharks, mollusks and other invertebrae, and that said characters would be played straight, with no camp value.

Although Verbinski's story-telling techniques need to be questioned, his creative efforts cannot. Davy Jones' ship just drips with eye candy in every corner. The idea of this supernatural pirate is that he offers drowning and near-death sailors a chance: die or pledge 100 years of service to this octopus-faced monstrosity. In exchange for cheating death, Jones and his crew start to meld with the sea, gradually becoming more amphibian than man. There's a great scene where we meet a Jones partner who has actually become a part of the vessel, acting as some kind of candle-holding gargoyle, and it's just magical when he painfully tries to interact with Orlando Bloom. What excites me most about Davy Jones and Co. is that this is just the tip of the iceberg, in regards to the sequel. We never really see what kinds of powers he and his crew have, and we get glimpses of some really messed up crewmembers, such as one guy who appeared to be about 80% shrimp.

Unfortunately, Davey Jones can't save this movie. I've always felt that an action movie shouldn't feel long unless it's adhering to respected source material (i.e. Lord of the Rings), and that's on display here. What we have is a simple story (everyone wants the chest) trying to be much more significant than it is. As a result, 'Dead Man's Chest' is insanely talky and in turn suffers from 'Phantom Menace syndrome,' whereby there's so much exposition to get through that by necessity there are a series of 'meeting' scenes which weigh down the movie. What's worse, all of the characters play these scenes like it's a critical part in a bad 'ER' episode, so the music and their voices are all screaming 'YOU BETTER LISTEN!!'

One of the problems I had with the first one was that the characters were given one note of emotion they had to adhere to. Bloom's character is 100% steadfast, Depp is Depp (but it strangely seems to work even better than the original) and Keira Knightly seemed to get her motivation from this creature, she never thinks to stop shouting at the camera or take that sneer off her face.

It's undoubtedly flawed, but sometimes enjoyable in its vices. Much has been said about the needless cannibal escape scene, but I see it as necessary, since so much of the film is people talking on a ship, you need a good land action scene early, even if it does add another half hour.

One thing to watch for: there's a great device in the first Toratuga (sp?) scene which is directly lifted from the Disneyland ride. Even though I haven't ridden it since 1989 (it was down for repairs last time I was there, goddammit), I instantly recognized it. See if you can catch it.

Unbreakable

Reverent. That's the word I kept thinking while seeing Superman Returns. The reverence Bryan Singer and Co. had toward everything Superman is apparent in every element of this film, and it's that kind of thinking which has helped produced the best comic book movies, and the exact feeling which was missing in the last X-Men movie. Whereas X-Men was a slow-moving parade from one special effects sequence to another who-cares plot point, 'Superman Returns' exudes a charm that it is the best possible incarnation of a worshipped cultural icon.

The best decision Singer made with this movie was placing it somewhere in Richard Donner's Superman universe. As a pseudo sequel to Superman II, Singer didn't need to spend an hour with Supes' origin. This was the right decision not only story telling-wise, but also because it allows the first two entries in the series to be appreciated as they should be, while also enabling fans to further forget the last two Superman movies. I think this was an early stumbling block by fans, as the thinking was 'Superman' didn't need to be remade, as Donner's 1978 will always be a landmark achievement for all comic and blockbuster films.

And like Donner's film, 'Superman Returns' feels like two movies. I've always felt that the first third of 'Superman' is the high-water mark for any superhero movie, which is why some feel disappointed with the movie as a whole, because the rest is almost a letdown. 'Superman Returns' is the reverse of this, with the movie kicking into high gear after the first hour. Where 'Superman Returns' will pale in comparison to the 'Spiderman' franchise to non-comic fans is that first hour, where you'll feel kind of lost if this is the first Superman movie you've seen. But it's impossible not to smile once you see how right Brandon Routhh looks in the suit (which in my opinion, does NOT need to be fire engine red and sky blue, the straight-up colors looked hokey even in '78 and would come off worse on today's screens, I like the new pallette), how much fun Kevin Spacey is obviously having as Lex Luthor (despite what Ebert says, more on that later) and even though flying sequences are old hats nowadays, Singer manages to conceive something effortlessly startling in many scenes. This is most apparent at the end of the much-talked about airline rescue scene, I won't spoil it but when you see the notes Singer ended it on, you'll get a feeling for how much creative energy was really put into this film, I know I did.

I re-watched Superman: The Movie with my nephew the day before seeing the new one, and I recommend doing the same, just to get a handle at how connected the two are. Sure, Gene Hackman's Luthor was fun as hell and Spacey's is more evil than gregarious, but then how would expect Hackman's Luthor to act after spending five humiliating years in prison? I knew Singer was headed in the right direction when I heard he was re-using some of Brando's footage, and it turned out to be a revelation. Brando IS Jor-El, using a new actor would be all wrong, and I think my favorite scene of the new movie is at the end when Superman recites my favorite Jor-El line. But this wasn't from Jor-El talking to him through the crystals, this came right before he left Krypton, as if the father HAS become the son and vice versa. I wasn't expecting it and was just blown away when I heard it.

'Superman Returns' is nearly flawless, but there are still some parts of it that bother me. Chief among them is the decision to have a Superman Jr. in this. I can understand putting this device in a sequel, but now they HAVE to put lil Supes in the sequel, and they didn't really get much mileage out of him in this movie. Do we really want to see a coming-of-age Superman learning his powers in the next movie? I'm sure they will make it work when we see Superman again in 2011 or so, but it just seemed like an odd decision which didn't prove too fruitful. Another is that while Singer weaves the Superman world masterfully, we never really get the feel how happy Earth is to see Superman again after a five year absence. Seeing the miracles he works, don't you think the populace would really miss him, and if he came back, shouldn't there be some sort of global emotion? You see it at the end, but never really get the impression when he first arrives. Also, some minor fan boy quibbles: if this is a sequel, why does the Kryptonite Lex steals from the museum still say 'Abbas Addiba' on it? Lex already stole this piece of Kryptonite in the original and presumably used it, did someone recover it and put it back in a museum? We're never really convinced why Superman would want to return to Krypton, I mean if a planet explodes, it explodes, meaning even if there were some chunks left floating around, there wouldn't be anyone hanging out on it Little Prince style. One last note: there were a few scenes where my wife and I both thought Routhh's unusually perfect features were digitally enhanced. I know it was filmed in digital and we were seeing it at a digial theater, but watch for a few shots where Routhh comes off looking more like a Ken doll than human.

Finally, I have to say how much I disagree with Ebert's two star review. I've been reading Ebert for at least 10 years and don't think I've ever thought he was ever so wrong. The ho-hum action sequences he describes sure don't sound like the ones I watched, same goes for Spacey, who seemed to relish playing someone genuinely devil-ish. I thought Ebert would appreciate the creativity which went into 'Superman Returns,' as well as the story, which was miles ahead of X-Men 3, for which he gave a positive review.

Late review: A Prairie Home Companion
As much as I enjoyed 'Superman Returns,' my favorite movie of the year is still A Prairie Home Companion, which is the rare kind of movie that leaves you with some sort of baptismal feeling exiting the theater. Everything works. Everything. As good as the casting looked on paper, it becomes near perfection when you see Woody Harrelson and John C. Reilly in the prototypical Harrelson and Reilly roles. This is especially true for Kevin Klein, who would get an Oscar nom for this if he hadn't played this same role a few times before. It's a movie full of Best Supporting Actor nominations, but if I could pick actor who will actually get this nomination, it's actually Virginia Madsen, who's in the role of her career and literally sparkles throughout. Throw in the wonderful-as-usual Garrison Keillor writing, and you have a movie that you have to be kind of an asshole not to like.

The That Guys

With the tragic passing of Paul Gleason last week, it is time to recognize the exclusive Hollywood club to which he belonged. Gleason was a That Guy, a term coined by Bill Simmons, but further explained in this post, which also represents the first class in the That Guy Hall of Near-Fame.

A That Guy is a recognizable, nameless actor who usually plays the same character in every film he is in. For example, when I was told that Gleason died I was clueless, until someone said he was the guy from The Breakfast Club. The name of the phrase comes from saying 'Hey, it's That Guy!' when a That Guy appears onscreen. While being a That Guy is usually not a welcome distinction, Jeremy Piven has proven that That Guys can move into leading roles. However, there are other That Guys who have made a nice career out of it, these are the pioneers, the original That Guys. The inaugural class inducted into the That Guy Hall of Near-Fame begins with the genre's foremost figure.

Dick Miller
Destined to play: Take-no-shit, witty old guy; next victim in buffet line for monster/killer
I have written about the wonders of Dick Miller before, both here and here, and it is essential for him to headline this list. Miller has been a That Guy for a whopping 162 movies and he's still going even though he's pushing 80. Miller was lucky enough to befriend directors such as Roger Corman and Joe Dante who began casting him (sometimes with his character having the same name in multiple movies) in all of their projects. You might know him as the gunstore owner in The Terminator or that one guy in Gremlins (with a substantially larger role in the sequel).

Danny Trejo
Destined to play: Thug, sometimes with a heart of gold
There was a run of movies in the late 80s/early 90s where it seemed that SAG passed a new bylaw which required any action movie involved Danny Trejo in some way. Since 1985 he has starred in an unbelievable 126 movies, including a whopping 22 in 2006 or 2007! Trejo has the coveted That Guy statistic of having more roles than lines (unofficial number). He has had a few breakthrough moments: his role in Heat (character name: Trejo!) was memorable, as was his turn in Desperado (1995 was a good year for him).

Al Leong
Destined to play: Thug/goon
While Trejo has had some roles to speak of, I can't even think of a single line of dialogue uttered by an Al Leong character. Never heard of him? Think of the thug with the butcher knife in Big Trouble in Little China or the Asian thug in Die Hard, or basically any Asian character you've seen who sported a fumanchu. While not having as many credits to his name as some on this list (only 53), Leong undoubtedly is the acting president of the Ninja/Gunman division of the Asian Actors Guild.

Woody Strode
Destined to play: Grateful sidekicks
The other posthumas entry in the list, you could argue that Woodrow Wilson Strode's career was more than a That Guy, and that may be true, but he played That Guy so well that he needs to be on here. Lurking in the background of so many great Westerns, Strode was a favorite of John Ford but earned his shining moment as the dynamite arrow-shooting Jake Sharp in the 1966 masterpiece The Professionals.

Paul Gleason
Destined to play: Hard-ass authority types
Known to a generation as the Breakfast Club principal, Gleason made a career out of playing detectives, deans and doctors. So anonymous was Gleason that his IMDB page contains the line 'reportedly owned a restaurant.' (NOTE: There were better pictures of Gleason available, but I had to include this one because of his quote 'I fantasize all the time' on the cover.)

Your basic X-Men rant

We all know the problems X-Men: The Last Stand faced even before anyone saw it: rushed production schedule, underfunded (for a summer special effects behemoth), questionable story (Dark Phoenix as Plot B?) and leagues of fans ready to pounce on it for any irregularities between comic pages and film. After seeing that, all of the above helped contribute to a sub-par movie, but I'm not ready to jump on the bandwagon saying it could have been a great movie.

Some potential existed, but I'm convinced more than ever that a 'Spiderman'-caliber X-Men movie cannot be made. The biggest challenge is that the X-Men universe has become so bloated over the decades -- with a ridiculous infusion of characters, villains, philosophies, etc. -- that it is near impossible to make a quality, focused film. What makes movies based on the likes of Superman, Spiderman and Batman so epic is that the formula is fairly cut and dry because their origins are a part of pop culture and the villains and dynamics are pretty well-known. In the case of X-Men, there is no great origin and the problems that face a superhero team are much different (and you could say less interesting) than those which confront an individual.

My great hope from the beginning for the X-Men franchise was that it would eventually adopt one of the epic storylines for a movie. I've always felt that the Days of Future Past saga was made for Hollywood (kind of a Terminator-meets-12 Monkeys story), sure it would have been a daunting production, but it would have been the kind of plot that would appeal to a large mass beyond the comic fans. Of course the other most well-known X-Men storyline is the sprawling Dark Phoenix saga, which was alluded to in X2 but then pushed away as a side story in X3, solidifying its stature as a rush job with little creative energy.

Making Dark Phoenix the primary plot would have no doubt increased the budget quite a bit, and it seems 20th Century Fox was unwilling to break the bank with X3. To deal with this, it seems the filmmakers decided to give viewers as many X-Men characters as possible, increasing the 'Hey!' ratio but lowering the overall product with flimsy special effects and a who-cares story. But even with the inclusion of a horde of X-Men past and present (who the hell was the antler guy?), there were many questionable no-shows. Chief among these was Gambit, who -- along with Wolverine -- seemed like the most obvious choice for an X-Men movie character from the beginning: he's a sarcastic charmer with a screen-friendly power, and has built-in connections to Rogue.

On the villain side, there was the strange choice to make Pyro (a perennial non-descript background character) as Magneto's No. 2. In order to set up a predictable battle with Iceman, they changed his character to an apparently young American (he's always been an adult Australian). To the surprise as no one, the Iceman-Pyro fight was a dud.

But there were some nice surprises in X3, I don't think anyone ever expected Juggernaut and Beast to be portrayed so accurately on screen as they were. I wasn't expecting Juggernaut's near-invincibility to be translate well, but it was one of the few successful effects in the movie (Super-Annoying Comic Geek Swipe: One scene that irked me was how Juggernaut was eventually overcome at the end, with his 'mutant' powers temporarily removed -- actually Juggernaut is one of the few X-Men characters who is not a mutant, his powers come from a magical gem inside his armor, which is why he is virtually unstoppable. And even if he was a mutant, wouldn't his mutant ability -- being unstoppable and invincible -- be something the government would want to harness or at least research?). Beast seemed like a character who would never look good on screen, but putting him in a suit and playing up his intelligence and diplomacy was perfect -- as was his graceful fighting at the end.

Unfortunately the excellent treatment of Beast and Juggernaut was overshadowed by several mis-steps, most notably -- and surprisingly -- with Wolverine. Whereas the first two films sometimes came close to showing Wolvie's true nature, X3 portrayed him as a mild-mannered uncle-figure, constantly trying to offer advice and generally just walking around the mansion playing it cool. What has made the real Wolverine one of Marvel's most popular characters is that he is a near-unlikable ferocious fiend who can rarely contain his anger. What happened to him? There have been rumblings of a Wolverine movie which will hopefully show us the true side of him.

Final swipe: The low budget of X3 was at times embarrassingly obvious, with the low mark coming at the beginning. Wolverine and Co. are battling a Sentinel (yes!) -- offscreen (no!!!) and all we see of this fantastic, towering character are a pair of glowing eyes and its head after Wolvie cuts it off. If there was ever a stage production of X-Men, this is how it would be done. Truly pitiful.

Overstaing the Underrated

The easiest list to make is the one with 'The Worst' in the title, a notch below that is 'Most Overrated,' since all that is required is to find a way to pick apart a consensus opinion. The only list harder to make than 'The Best' is 'Most Underrated,' because the idea of being underrated is having little or no discussion or buzz going on about said underrated item, hence a little more digging is required. There have been other underrated lists, and there will be more, but I'd like to think of mine as somewhat original, because I didn't take any ideas for mine from other lists, making mine even more underrated than your underrated . . . I think. Keep in mind that my idea of an underrated movie is one that is either still waiting for the acclaim it deserves or one which received unfair treatment either upon or after its release (multiple horrible sequels, slipping public opinion of its makers/stars). I didn't bother to rank these . . . that's overrated.

Neighbors
Despite being the last movie John Belushi made, Neighbors is never mentioned as one of the comic's best moments. Paired with Dan Aykroyd, and playing the 'straight man' character for the only time in his career, 'Neighbors' starts out as a typical comedy but quickly ascends into absurd levels of absurdity. 'Neighbors' sometimes has the feel of a Neil Simon comedy, since Belushi's character is eventually being assaulted from every possible angle of his life. It also features a 21-year-old Cathy Moriarty, fresh off her debut in 'Raging Bull.'

Robocop
The stature of Paul Verhoeven's action/satire of technology and the media has slipped considerably over the years. This could be traced in part to its two subpar sequels, but also to the fact that when someone today sees Robocop, they just see a robot suit which screams 1987. I've always seen 'Robocop' as the high-water mark for Verhoeven, whose rare ability to fill any scene (be it comedy or action) with a feeling of menace and impending pain is put to great effect here. Like he would with Starship Troopers and Total Recall, 'Robocop' is consistently mean-spirited, but never without its tongue slightly in cheek. 'Robocop' is unfarily seen today as just another late-80s action scifi sendup, which doesn't take into account its clever skewering of the media and corporate ethics.

Obsession
Like Verhoeven, Brian De Palma seems to have as many detractors as fans. The most common insult hurled his way is how he's a hack, since his most famous works were either remakes or reworkings (or in the case of Carrie, based on a famous book). While the above is true, it shouldn't be held against him, because by and large De Palma has actually taken the basic idea of a previous movie and turned it into something ultimately his. The best example of this is 1976's Obsession, which creatively twists Vertigo's themes of love, obsession and identity into a beautiful and unique film. Set in New Orleans with liberal doses of exaggerated natural light, 'Obsession' (like 'Vertigo') constantly has the feel of a dream, and you are constantly questioning what parts of it take place in reality. This little gem came on the cusp of De Palma's breakout with 'Carrie,' and is usually left out when discussing the director.

Kickboxer/Hard Target
Since Jean Claude Van Damme has crossed into that territory inhabited by Sylvester Stallone and since vacated by John Travolta, whereby all of their movies are cleared from our collective memory until they either die or make some sort of career changing film (i.e. Pulp Fiction). Van Damme's inclusion in this territory is certainly warranted (see: repeated straight-to-video roles, endless cocaine habit, all around joke), but that shouldn't stop his two best movies from being enjoyed. As I covered in my comparison of Van Damme and Steven Seagal, Kickboxer was a perfect vehicle for Van Damme, because it didn't try to hide the fact that he was a bad actor. This leads to several intended moments of hilarity and also some damn good fighting. In Hard Target, Van Damme was finally paired with a competent director who actually intended on using a story behind his many jump kicks in tight jeans. John Woo not only gave Van Damme some fun devices (being cajun, biting the rattler off a rattlesnake) but also took the leash off Lance Henriksen and let him wield a supremo bad ass single shot pistol. Both movies have aged terribly, but they remain just as entertaining and shouldn't be dismissed as they are.

The Burbs
Now that Tom Hanks has a free pass for any movie, no matter how stale (Davinci Code) or contrived (Terminal) his performance may be, his comedy career seems to have been forgotten. Even at the time of its release, The Burbs didn't get nearly enough attention as it deserved. Just a glance at who was behind this movie is cause for a raised eyebrow: Directed by Joe Dante and also starring Corey Feldman (!), Bruce Dern (!!), Henry Gibson (!!?!!) and since this is Dante, you know that the immortal Dick Miller is in it. This was also the brief star turn for Rick Ducommun, who was a popular comedian at the time and had two HBO specials under his belt (he would never be heard from again). 'The Burbs' has the usual Dante levels of absurdity and everything that comes out of Dern's mouth is gold ('Go paint your goddamned house!'). This movie has a burgeoning cult following and maybe some day it will get a decent DVD release.

The Getaway (1972)
When discussing the best of Steve McQueen and Sam Peckinpah, The Getaway rarely comes up. Peckinpah made many other great movies, but 'The Getaway' was his biggest hit. McQueen is often associated with his other blockbusters, such as The Great Escape or Bullitt. Compounding matters, when most people hear 'The Getaway' they think about the completely unnecessary and subpar 1994 remake. It's a shame, because 'The Getaway' is an enthralling, gritty and completely masterful on-the-run action epic. McQueen is perfect for Doc McCoy, who is dead set about not going back to prison, but will go to the grave in the pursuit of getting away with a bank robbery. There's an unbelievable scene in the beginning when Peckinpah shows the endless boredom and routine of prison: McCoy is shown delicately putting together a crude model of a bridge, but as he puts the last piece of it on, repeated shots of his daily routine are spliced together with him slowly crushing his just-completed craft. Although it is a big budget Hollywood blockbuster, there are Peckinpah touches everywhere, such as when McCoy realizes he's been spotted at an electronics store, he casually goes next door, steals a shotgun and prepares for the impending bloodshed. Watch for a young Sally Struthers in a nice role.

'You wanna get out of here? You talk to me'

2006 marks the 25th anniversary of one of the greatest sequels and certainly one of the best action movies of its era: The Road Warrior. Perfect in almost every respect, 'The Road Warrior' manages to maintain a torrid pace while never straying from a simple plot and mostly minimalist script.

Director George Miller and writer/producer Byron Kennedy had an interesting dilemma when conceiving a sequel to Mad Max. Their 1979 movie was a smash hit all over the globe -- except the United States -- where a version dubbed with American voices didn't make much of an impact. Warner Bros. of course wanted a big hit in America with the sequel, but how should they go about making the next chapter to a movie few in the States saw? The answer was a solution today's Hollywood should take a look at more often. Instead of a traditional sequel, Miller and Kennedy made a movie which could stand on its own, hence the unique U.S. title instead of the worldwide 'Mad Max 2.'

Apart from the excellent expository introduction and Max himself, the only aspect of 'The Road Warrior' that links to 'Mad Max' is Max's reaction to being asked if he's ever lost any family. Whereas 'Mad Max' was a classic tale of revenge, 'The Road Warrior' would be a cross between a Saturday morning cartoon and Leone's Spaghetti Westerns, with Max playing the role as The Man With No Name. Though 'Mad Max' was made with an extremely small budget (until 'Blair Witch' it held the film record for cost:profit ratio), it made its mark with its shockingly raw action scenes (you could argue that it contains two of the most brutal car collisions ever seen on the screen), and 'The Road Warrior' would aim to up the ante at every hairpin turn.

At the opening of 'The Road Warrior,' we find Max exactly where we left him before: in his car driving away from the pain that transformed him into the 'shell of a man' he now inhabits. What has helped make this such a legendary movie is the way Max is handled: given almost no lines of dialogue and with the absolute minimum of emotions. When Max cracks a half-smile at the end, it's not a reach to say it's his first genuinely enjoyable moment since his family was killed.

A spartan script by design, 'The Road Warrior' is still filled with odd characters and overflowing with lavishly creative production design. In the hands of American filmmakers, the gangs would be driving Mustangs with machine guns mounted to them. In 'The Road Warrior' world of the Australian Outback, the only real recognizable car is an old Ford F150, with Max at the helm of a heavily modified Australian-version Ford Falcon and Humongous' gang manning function-first monstrosities. Then there are the costumes. The friendlies at the refinery seem to have found their wardrobe by raiding a high school football locker room, while Humongous and Co. have taken the opportunity in the post-apocalpytic world to break out their cod pieces and assless chaps. It's the attention to detail such as the above which makes the movie work so well.

And the violence. Miller/Kennedy seem bent on one-upping themselves with each opportunity. When the boomerang blade smashes through the tranny's skull, you feel it. When the unlucky pair who are fastened to the front of a Humongous machine get an up-close view of the back of a tanker, it hurts. 'The Road Warrior' keeps going further and further up the meter of brutally fun action until Humongous and his machine meet their profoundly beautiful end.

There was a point in my life where I watched 'The Road Warrior' almost daily, and one aspect I grew to appreciate was the score by Brian May (no, not the one from Queen), who continued his work with Miller/Kennedy from 'Mad Max.' Since there's little dialogue, May's score is often at centerstage to carry some of the scenes, and it delivers every time.

It's a shame that on the 25th anniversary of 'The Road Warrior,' there is still no suitable DVD release, save for the bare-ass bones release around seven years ago. 'Mad Max' has a very nice two-disc Special Edition and there's even been talk of it getting the Superbit treatment (though I can't imagine why). Warner even saw fit to release a Special Edition VHS of 'The Road Warrior' shortly before the advent of DVD, but still no proper treatment for it on DVD (though there have been rumors of a Christmas release).

Also, it's strange to see how limited Miller's work as a director has been since his coming out party with 'Mad Max' and 'The Road Warrior.' Outside of those two movies he has directed just five, including 'Beyond Thunderdome' and the wonderful 'Babe: Pig in the City.' Perhaps he is content to sit on the royalties he gets from 'The Road Warrior' and 'Beyond Thunderdome,' which he was awarded the rights to from Warner in exchange for stepping out of the director's chair for 'Contact.'

Keep Watching the Shelves!

There seems to be an unhealthy amount of over-the-top DVD releases coming out this summer. With releases like these, it's easy to say to yourself "hey, I can wait two years to upgrade to HD-DVD!" A couple of these discs were once thought to be in permanent residence in the film graveyard, but with their coming out party now give hope to those still residing six feet under (more on that later). In addition to the forthcoming Ultimate Western Fanboy Box Set (which recently had its perfect coverart revealed), these are the releases I've been salivating over for weeks.

Grand Prix (July 11)
I have written before on the injustice of not having John Frankenheimer's ground-breaking Grand Prix available on DVD. Thanks in part to a vigilant online petition, the stunning film will now get a two-disc 40th anniversary release. This news was nothing short of shocking to fans of the movie, who were told for years by Warner Bros. that there was little interest in a DVD release, and would have been happy with just as happy with a bare bones anamorphic disc. On DVD, 'Grand Prix' will be fully enjoyed for the first time since its theatrical run, where its Super Panavision 70mm 2.20:1 aspect ratio was fully exploited. For those who have never experienced it, prepare to be blown away in Dolby Digital 5.1 by the opening credits, which creates a one-of-a-kind symphony using engine notes and the sounds of a raceway. The only shame about this release is that it will not contain the views of the commentary-friendly Frankenheimer, who died suddenly in 2002.

Beyond the Valley of the Dolls (June 13)
Russ Meyer's big budget, girl band vixen murder ride easily made my Top WTF!?! Movies list, but that doesn't mean I won't be picking up this long-overdue release. Beyond the Valley of the Dolls has been available in Region 2 for a few years, but will now hit shelves on the same day as the movie that inspired it, Valley of the Dolls. Truthfully, I probably wouldn't pick this one up if not for its signature extra: a commentary track by the movie's co-writer, a one Roger Ebert (yes -- that Roger). Ebert's commentaries are always excellent, and it will be interesting to hear his thoughts on his own work. Okay, I would have bought it, but just to shock my friends with the 'I am Supergirl!' decapitation scene.

Amazing Stories, Season 1 (July 18)
This series deserved to be rediscovered on DVD, as many have forgotten about it. Created by Steven Spielberg, who got his start on a similar series, Night Gallery. Amazing Stories is quite different than 'Night Gallery' or even 'Twilight Zone,' since it is generally geared toward a younger audience -- like many of Spielberg's movies. Being Spielberg, he was able to recruit some of the best actors and directors around to be involved with the series. Like any series of this genre, it is hit and miss, but there are some real gems in the first season, such as Mummy, Daddy about an actor who has an eventful night with a real-life version of the character he's playing. Perhaps the best-known episode from season 1 is Hell Toupee, directed by Irvin 'I fucking directed The Empire Strikes Back!' Kershner, it's about a man who gets a hair transplant from a convicted murderer.

Dazed and Confused: The Criterion Collection (June 6)
For the big fans of Dazed and Confused, this release could represent a triple dip, as it replaces the respectable Flashback Edition which was released last year, which replaced a very early bare bones disc. It's an easy sell for me just because of the cover art (if you can't tell, that's an outer jacket, with 'peepholes' inside to the inner disc cover, ala Led Zeppelin III), but being Criterion, it has a load of extras as well. Richard Linklater is of course on board for a commentary (and also has his name prominently on the cover now), a new 50-minute documentary, an expectedly exhaustive and entertaining booklet that only Criterion can do, and even a poster.

The Simpsons, season 8 (August 15)
As someone who has fiendishly purchased every Simpsons season shortly after it was released, I have long told myself that this will be the final season in my collection. Season 8 marks the last truly great Simpsons season, before it started its slow decline the following year. Generally, all the episdodes in this set are great (with some true classics such as Homer vs. the 18th Amendment and Bart After Dark), but it also has a couple duds, which forecast the decline on the horizon (notably, Mountain of Madness and Brother From Another Series). Fox will continue its ridiculous head-design, but will hopefully offer a traditional box design like they did for Season 7.

Graveyard tenants: Monster Squad/Night of the Creeps
Both of these Frank Dekker cult classics are still unavailable on DVD, and there is no release in sight. Aint-It-Cool recently held a reunion screening in Austin, and their recap details how the rights to both movies have bounced around lately, and who to write your letter to about how shitty this is. This is one of the rare cases where a pair of contemporary movies are almost unwatchable just because there is nowhere to find them. The only way you can see either is to buy an old VHS or a bootlegged DVD off eBay. I have actually never seen Night of the Creeps, but it sounds fun enough, if it's anything like Monster Squad, which was one of my favorite movies growing up. Hope seems slim for a DVD release for these 80s horror/comedies, but if Grand Prix can be released, anything is possible.

NOTE: DVD Panache was recently on hiatus due to a relocation to better quarters and a corporate outing to Cabo San Lucas. Rest assured, we are still going strong and look for some regular posting starting this week.

'This laser gun can melt anything -- except you, honey'

The above is a direct quote from Danger: Diabolik, a movie that put a smile on my face that is only now starting to subside. Don't be swayed by its absurdly low rating at IMDB, 'Diabolik' is in a category all its own. That's partly to blame because it's a French-Italian production set in England, combining equal parts Batman and James Bond, drenched with the sharp style only the tail-end of the mod era could dare dream of.

There are movies based on comic books made every year, but 'Diabolik' is one of the few movies that feels like it is a comic book, and looking at it on paper, many would have suggested 'Diabolik' be produced on a paper medium. Here is our story: the lead character is anti-hero/criminal/playboy/terrorist Diabolik (John Phillip Law, who amazingly is of no relation to Jude Law), who confounds authorities with heists while dressed in his traditional leather catsuit and eluding them in various Jaguar XKE's to his underground lair (identical to the Batcave -- if it was designed by Ferrari) where he can cavort with Eva (imagine Goldie Hawn, but sexier, and Italian). Before the movie's over, Diabolik will have stolen $10 million in cash, a priceless emerald necklace and England's gold reserve. He will also demolish England's federal finance buildings -- seemingly out of spite and reduce a government press conference to hysterics using 'exhilirating gas.'

I was intrigued at the possibilities of 'Diabolik' after seeing that DVD Savant named it the most impressive DVD of 2005, but never imagined it would be this much fun. In addition to the aforementioned zany plot, you get high-speed chases on winding Italian roads, lots of maniacal cackles and the quirkiest Ennio Morricone score you've ever heard. The script is littered with clever, rhythmic word plays ('I was expecting you, Inspector') and the lavish sets are crammed with fun details (as he drives into his gargantuan lair in the beginning, try and spot a whole floor of spare Jags).

It's rare you find movies this good that have the 'bad guy' essentially as the main character, one who is not looking for any sympathy, just a lot of money for he and his femme fatale to roll around in. 'Diabolik' isn't trying to say anything, but it's one helluva snap shot from a creative time when movies like this could be made without trying to be too silly.

So why is 'Diabolik' so lightly regarded? By 1968, you couldn't make a movie like this with a straight face in the U.S., and it was still a gamble in Europe. The last good Connery 007 came out in '67 (You Only Live Twice) and the first of the spy spoofs was released in '66 (Our Man Flint, and even it sequel In Like Flint in '67), so at the time there wasn't exactly a salivating audience for something as wild as 'Diabolik.' It probably didn't help how obvious it was that 'Diabolik' was trying to cash in on the 'Batman' TV series which debuted in '66.

But with such a great DVD release, 'Diabolik' deserves to be recognized now. On the cheap ($12.99) disc, you get a commentary from Law and director Mario Bava's biographer and a couple of featurettes. The best extra shows how 'Diabolik' has established some sort of legacy: the Beastie Boys' video for 'Body Movin' (click here to watch the video) which uses footage from the movie and inserts the rappers in their own scenes. The video is on the disc, as well as commentary from the Beasties.

Suspended suspension of disbelief

It's the reason you don't bat an eye when Superman reverses the Earth's axis to go back in time a few minutes; it's why you accept the idea in The Abyss that a person can breathe water if they really want to; it's how you got that idea in your head that if you find yourself being chased on a rooftop, it would be a good idea to jump to that next building. The suspension of disbelief is central to any performing art, but this does not mean that your audience will buy whatever far-fetched device you throw at them. This is why I present to you my favorite 'you have got to be fucking kidding me' moments, which failed due to either sub-par direction and effects, or simply dumb thinking, and ended up being unintentionally hilarious.

Robocop 3
If you've seen Robocop 3, you probably know where I'm going with this. With the decision to make a PG-13 Robocop, certain sacrifices had to be made. There would be no more of Robocop shooting a would-be sniper through his scope or an acid-drenched thug being turned to mush by a speeding car. Instead we would have scenes like the beginning, which seems designed to provide a James Bond-style intro. We find Robo's partner (Nancy Allen, who at this point was probably wondering how a career that started out with being a regular collaborator with a young Brian DePalma could have degraded to this) in trouble again, but help is on the way. However, instead of just coming to her aid, Robocop decides to give the baddies some shock-value by driving to the top of a nearby parking structure and plunging over the edge. The intentions are semi-good, but here's where it spirals out of control: after driving off a 15-story building, Robocop's car lands on all four wheels, looking a lot like it was dropped from a crane 10-feet off the ground. Robocop then uses his new machine-gun hand to cut a hole in the ceiling of the car so he can have a big entrance. It's a fitting intro to a movie full of 'doh!'s.

Speed
An obvious choice for sure, but it's notable because way back in 1994 there was no need to question what it looked like for a bus to jump over a gap in a freeway. It had never been done before, so we just accepted how it looked. Now, buses jumping over freeway gaps is old news, so when we see the signature scene from Speed, we say 'hey, why does the front of the bus shoot 15 feet in the air right as it goes over the edge? And how is it able to land on its back wheels?' I had thoughts similar to these when I saw 'Speed,' but decided to give it the benefit of the doubt because movie-goers had been waiting a lifetime to see a bus jump. What makes this even more frustrating for me is that it would have been better if the bus hadn't made the jump. It would have been a much better stunt if the bus had fallen short and landed on the roadway below, desperately trying to keep the speed above 70 (or was it 60?) as it careens out of control. (Perhaps more embarrassing than the jump is Keanu Reeves' last line, which should go down as one of the worst 'I just killed the bad guy line,' when he proudly utters: 'Yeah, but I'm taller!' after decapitating Dennis Hopper).

To Live and Die in L.A.
This entry refers not to the actual movie of To Live and Die in L.A., but rather the alternate ending included in the DVD, which would have been a disaster of epic proportions if it had been tacked on to the theatrical release. In this alternate ending, our hero William Petersen is killed just like in the original, but instead of showing his partner taking over his beat we flash to an FBI outpost in Alaska, with Petersen's character very much alive and wearing a sheepish grin as we pan out from Alaska into the credits. What?! 'Oh I get it, you see he took a point-blank shotgun blast to the chest, but he actually secretly survived and then got transferred to Alaska so he would be safe from the gangs.' Just awful. This is comparable to having a new ending in Citizen Kane, where we instead see Kane in disguise in the Andes sledding on Rosebud as he winks at the camera.

Alien: Resurrection
This is not about any individual horrible scene in a completely horrible movie, but rather its entire horrible plot. The makers of Alien: Resurrection would like us to believe that in the future they find out that DNA, in addition to containing all of our genes, also conveniently stores all of our memories and life experiences. This explains how Ripley could be incinerated in Alien 3, but as a clone of herself in Resurrection, she is able to recall how to kill the aliens and how the creatures tormented her in three previous movies. Resurrection is an even worse sequel reach than Escape From the Planet of the Apes ('Okay, they destroyed Earth in the second one, but what if two apes had found a way to go -- back in time!').

Live and Let Die
Bond movies naturally fit into this list, but in Live and Let Die, they truly set an astronomical standard which would never be topped. One of the weapons of at Bond disposal is some kind of anti-shark pellet that causes inflation to Macy's Parade levels of hilarity. Of course in the final battle, we know that Bond will use this on the villain, which he does, but the filmmakers run into a problem here: in 1973 it was completely impossible to show a person inflate and explode on film. They go around this problem by inserting a balloon which may or may not resemble the villain, we never know because the film conveniently turns very grainy and the shot is so quick we must use circumstantial evidence to decipher just what happened.

Zombies down under and Spielberg's folly

For a short time, I had an Australian rooommate in college. He delighted me with some beyond-Paul Hogan-and-Yahoo Serious Aussie knowledge, such as how Volkswagen Buses are called 'combies,' aboriginees are called 'abbies' and the folk from the rural northwest are their version of rednecks. He neglected to reinforce my confidence in what Australian filmmakers can do with a measly budget and some inspired ideas: a rare opportunity for them to show us Yanks up. Over 25 years ago this fact was brought to life with Mad Max (which has a long overdue post coming up . . . hopefully) and forever stamped with Rabbit-Proof Fence. But who knew that those Tropic of Capricorn-straddlers (I ran out of synonyms, sorry) could come up with a zombie movie so original and fun -- and without the aid of Bruce Campbell?

I speak of Undead, which I finally saw yesterday. Funded without any studio aid, 'Undead' has a story -- and even a look-- that feels like a video game, and I mean that in the best possible way. For such a funds-strapped project, 'Undead' is filled with clever SciFi channel-grade CGI effects which never detract from its bold story, but give it a more fun atmosphere. The Spierig Brothers took an approach to 'Undead' that should be a prerequisite of any zombie movie: come original and don't apologize. Instead of putting its characters in a series of backed-into-the-corner surrounded by zombies moments, 'Undead' uses zombie battle scenes sparingly -- because it actually has a story to tell. Instead of a chemical truck overturning and awaking the dead, you get a superb interstellar mystery that twists believeably around and back until the final shot.

What originally drew me to this movie a couple years ago was a description of its hero: Marion is your average Aussie loner, but he carries three shotguns fashioned together to allow for easy tri-shotgun shooting and reloading. Neat. 'Undead' also carries my new favorite zombie-slaying scene, ever: our other hero is trying in vain to fight off zombies with a broom handle in a hardware store, when the end of itself accidentally attached through the hole of a buzz saw blade. With the blade at a slight angle, our femme fatale embarks on an artistic zombie butchering, climaxing with an Australian flag floating to the floor behind her.

'1941'
I was excited to see 1941 because it seems to have risen -- in some circles at least -- to the exclusive club of elite failures inhabited only by the likes of Heaven's Gate, Cleopatra and the Edsel. At this point in Steven Spielberg's career -- having just made two super hits both critically and commerically in Close Encounters of the Third Kind and Jaws -- he entered the rare realm of being able to do any project he damn well wishes, a luxury he would enjoy for the rest of his career. With this power, Spielberg unleashed an overweight and wrought lead zeppelin of a would-be comedy/historical epic.

Just watching '1941,' it's obvious that it was one of the red-headed stepchildren of the late 70s, Star Wars-era Hollywood, when studios were gradually growing eager to throw around previously-unheard of budgets. This is one of the main problems with '1941,' its stubborn intent on using as many big-name actors in scene after scene of overflowing sets and over-the-top mayhem. The latter can be used for great effect (see 'The Blues Brothers'), but here it just becomes tiresome. For example, in one completely needless scene, Dan Aykroyd's character observes that an air raid is about to commence in Los Angeles, but the lights are still on, so he and others opt to destroy all the neon lights and street lamps in downtown L.A. This is neither funny, nor interesting, and it probably cost about $5,000,000 of shooting time and effects.

'1941' decides from the opening shot that it's going to be a zany, outrageous comedy filled with many people running into things which later explode. The intentions are sometimes good -- such as Robert Stack's general announcing to a crowd at an air base that there will be no bombing on American soil, only to have a stray B-52 bomb roll into his podium -- but even that joke takes so much time to setup that it leaves you literally waiting for the predictable punchline, and when it arrives, it doesn't even matter. Spielberg fills the movie with about 10 too many characters and 4 too many storylines. Aykroyd and John Candy have promising roles, but never have enough screentime to do anything interesting. John Belushi's character is funny and is plenty of scenes, but is pretty much giving us the same joke every time. Even my man Warren Oates, has a fun role, but we only see him for two scenes. Hell, I wouldn't have even known Christopher Lee was in the movie if I hadn't seen the credits because his character is always seen in darkness and all we can really make out is his chin.

Maybe Spielberg needed to get this one out of his system, he would never again attempt a straight comedy in his career.

Cinematic snackfare

There are countless unwritten rules in film: Blood must be the color of raspberry syrup; Christopher Walken must be cast in the role of Christopher Walken; every Nic Cage movie must have a 'Nic Cage Freakout Scene'; any movie that uses the intro to Norman Greenbaum's 'Spirit in the Sky' as music in its preview will suck and . . . the film must be at least 90 minutes long. Like the first two rules listed, it was not always this way (and in those cases, it needn't be either: blood is rarely that dark and Walken was once capable of playing a straight character). There was a time when movies regularly ran below 90 minutes, sometimes waaaaay below.

These days, a film that clocks in at 60 or even 70 minutes would be labeled a short, but as the movies I'm about to detail will show, it is possible to make a feature film without going to far past an hour. When watching one of these wonderfully brief movies, you don't find yourself looking at your watch wondering when it will end, rather you gaze at your watch and wonder just how they're going to wrap up everything in the next 10 minutes. Here are my picks for the best of the brief:

The Unknown (1927, 63 minutes)
Tod Browning was the Tim Burton or David Cronenberg of the early years of film. Freaks was made over 70 years ago and is still unnerving. The Unknown is a perfect title for a movie that is quite unlike anything else. In an era that oddly saw many movies made about clowns (see He Who Gets Slapped, Laugh Clown Laugh -- also with Lon Chaney), this is the most bizarre -- following an 'armless' performer (Chaney) who uses his feet to throw knives and sees an opportunity in fellow performer Joan Crawford, who just happens to fear being touched by men. But the macabre truth is that Chaney's character is actually a murderer on the run who has disguised himself in the circus and definitely does have arms -- but in an attempt to show his love for Crawford -- has them amputated. As with the best silent movies, 'The Unknown' has a perpetual dream-like quality to it

6000 Enemies (1939, 62 minutes)
Yes, this flawed-but-entertaining Walter Pidgeon movie checks in at a scant 62 minutes, which was very short in the talkie era. 6000 Enemies takes on a familiar plot, which had been told many times at the time in Hollywood and perfected in James Cagney's Each Dawn I Die: the tale of the wrong guy in prison. In the case of 'Each Dawn I Die,' Cagney plays a railroaded journalist, while Pidgeon portrays a D.A. What made '6000 Enemies' an average movie in its day makes it all the more watchable today. Made during the 'production code' era of Hollywood when studios -- particularly MGM -- went out of their way to make 'clean' movies. For example, Pidgeon's character is sent to prison and surrounded by thousands of criminals he sent there, but the worst they can think up to get back at him is yelling insults like 'the jury rests!' and sometimes shooting him rude stares. What's more, after the D.A. proves his mettle in a prison boxing match, the cons are more than happy to accept him as a friend. This could have easily been a very poor 2-hour movie, but as a 60-minute blazer it's nearly comical watching a 20-minute climactic courtroom scene shoved into a 20-second montage, or how the primary villain is seen in only two brief scenes.

The Public Enemy (1931, 83 minutes)
Though it is the longest by far in this crop, The Public Enemy makes the cut simply because it packs an overflowing plot (the life and death of a criminal) into such a tidy package. This is what made James Cagney, the pint-sized big mouth tough guy (i.e. the first Joe Pesci), a legitimate star. 'The Public Enemy' is best known as 'the grapefruit movie,' because of a scene when Cagney's character grows ever frustrated with his dame, so he grabs the nearest object -- a grapefruit -- and shoves it in her face (and yes, this was also parodied by The Simpsons, in Brother From the Same Planet). Cagney plays a young hood who grows to be a bootlegging baron, which clashes with his straight-laced brother -- especially when he serves his family a keg on the dinner table. 'The Public Enemy' would not really be classified as a mob movie today, rather it is closer to gangsploitation movies like Menace II Society, following a good kid who goes bad.

The Narrow Margin (1952, 71 minutes)
I saved this for last, because The Narrow Margin is a true filet mignon film (i.e. not a damn ounce of fat on it). This unforgettable noir thriller sets a torrid pace from the start and doesn't let up. Detective Walter Brown (the lantern-jawed, gravel-throated Charles McGraw) has problems: his mission is to transport a key mob witness crosscountry on a train, but his partner was just murdered, his cargo is an anxious and thankless dame, and in between fighting off an inquisitive tike, a mysterious fat man and his own nerves, he has to somehow make it through the trip while a mob hitman is onboard wanting blood. Watching this again, I could not help myself from singing 'Train Kept a Rollin' in my head (the Aerosmith version of course), but Steven Tyler never had lines in his song such as 'nobody likes a fatman except his grocer and his tailer' or 'this case is headed straight for the cemetery.' It seems impossible that 'The Narrow Margin' could jam this many shady characters and switcheroos into 71 minutes. Whenever I hear someone say they don't like any black and white movies, this is the one I pop in.

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On the surface, it may seem like a dream for Twilight Zone fans that every season of the legendary show is now available in new definitive editions. But even a die-hard fan like myself has to admit that these overpriced ($120 msrp!?!) monstrosities should only appeal to completists. It's not that the sets are not put together well (they include a lengthy list of extras and one of the seasons even includes the spectacular 'Twilight Zone Companion' book), but it's the fact that TZ, taken in as seasons, is overloaded with absolute clunker episodes.

Having seen almost every TZ episode, I've estimated that only about 30 percent of them are worthy of your time and there is a fairly large percentage of episodes that barely pass as watchable. When TZ was at its best it presented original stories featuring great acting, directing and maybe even a score by Bernard Herrman or Jerry Goldsmith. But far too many of the episodes feature recycled stories or -- as is the case with many bad TZ eps -- terrible acting and directing. One of my favorite episodes, A Piano in the House, has a fairly unengaging story but is made entertaining by the the actors and the choices made by the director in filming a luxurious, crowded party of the elite.

If you've never seen a truly horrid TZ episode, here's an example of just how bad it can get: the episode Four O'Clock is about a man with a parrot who believes he has the ability to shrink all his enemies to the height of two feet, and all of this will occur at four o'clock, as he tells us many times. But when the time arrives, it is he that shrinks, as his parrot tells him that his feathered friend was the one with the power all along. Ho ho! There are few episodes this bad, but many linger at around this level of quality, which is why you don't need to shell out over $100 for a season set, especially when you can buy the previously released DVDs comprised of four episodes, which now retail for about $6. And I am here with a helpful guide on how to build your TZ collection with only the best episodes, for less than a quarter the price of one of the season sets.

The Twilight Zone, Volume 11
Notable episodes: The Dummy, Living Doll, The After Hours
Pound for pound, this is probably the best $6 TZ disc out there. The After Hours is one of the few truly terrifying episodes out there, about a store's mannequin who has lost her way. The Dummy and Living Doll are scary in their own right, with both also having influenced everything from Child's Play to Treehouse of Horror III.

The Twilight Zone, Volume 8
Notable episodes: Third From the Sun, To Serve Man, The Shelter
To Serve Man is probably the best TZ episode, though not necessarily my favorite, and its 'punchline' was famously skewered by The Simpsons in the original Treehouse of Horror. To Serve Man is helped by easily the best-ever TZ score (Herrman, of course) and also the acting by Richard 'Jaws' Kiel and Lloyd Bochner (one of Lee Marvin's many kills in the wonderful 'Point Blank'). But it's the story that makes To Serve Man so riveting even today (be sure and watch for Russia's representative at the U.N., why is he the only rep who takes out a sandwich to eat while an intelligent alien is addressing the room?). Third From the Sun is a fun and well-directed bit with a nice ending and The Shelter is enjoyable enough, especially since it was wonderfully parodied by The Simpsons in Bart's Comet (noticing a trend here?).

The Twilight Zone, Volume 7
Notable episodes: Shadow Play, The Hitch-Hiker, Perchance to Dream
My favorite of the $6 discs, with Shadow Play being one of my most-loved episodes. It's a gripping, original tale wrought with philosophical questions, a great performance by the late Dennis Weaver and one of the best TZ endings. The Hitch-Hiker also has a great ending and Perchance to Dream stands as one of the more original and unforgettable TZ works (certainly the best of the 'dream' episodes).

More Treasures of the Twilight Zone
Notable episodes: The Masks, Eye of the Beholder, The Howling Man
There were two 'Treasures' discs released in the original lot of TZ DVDs, and this one is not to be missed, although it does still retail for about $15. It's worth it though, as it contains my all-time favorite episode, The Howling Man, one of the series' most famous moments in Eye of the Beholder (the pig people plastic surgery one) and an underrated little masterpiece in The Masks. The Howling Man is worth the price of admission alone, as it's a timeless horror tale about a traveler in Europe who unwittingly releases Satan himself from the clutches of a monestary. It's quite unlike any other TZ episode, perfectly written and directed with a brilliant, 'fuck yeah!' ending. 'Eye of the Beholder' is the much-copied story about a beautiful woman who is viewed as a freak by a society where ugly is the norm. The Masks is underrated as good TZ episodes go, with a truly twisted plot and unforgettable setpieces (where can I buy masks like that??).