This Week In Film (5/31/21 - 6/13/21)
May 31, 2021 - June 13, 2021
Hello readers. There is something I can’t get out of my head. I know nothing of the New Mexico Sheriff trying to run for Mayor of Albuquerque. I don’t know his policies or anything about him personally. What I do know is that last Tuesday, during his speech on being tough on crime, a drone came toward him. This was no ordinary drone. A run-of-the-mill drone would have been terrifying or maybe it could have been part of recording the size of the crowd in attendance. No, this drone had a giant dildo attached to it. When I first read the headline, I thought about the dildo being made of firm plastic more like a vibrator and attached horizontally. I imagined it chasing the sheriff's mouth. Then I saw there was video of said dildo drone. It was even funnier than I imagined. It was a large jiggling penis hanging vertically from the drone. It was shaking in the air, eager to greet the Mayoral candidate. Nothing this last two weeks can top that image. Nothing.
As you, my devoted few, readers probably have noticed. There was a break in my 15 week streak. It doesn't sit with me well, as this column was created for accountability purposes. These reviews are my writing assignments. Now, I can tell myself it was because I went on vacation, but in reality it was due to re-prioritizing. As the priorities shifted, it became easier to shirk my self-imposed duties. Falling off the wagon happens and when it does, you have to get back on. Just like anything in life, when you fall or fail try again. Unless it's swimming and you're seven years old and Dustin Jacobs a thirteen year old comes over and attempts to drown you in the lake. And your dad has to come over, pull the stupid kid off you, toss his *ss across the lake, and make sure you're breathing again. Then your fear of water will consume you for the rest of your life and you never have to attempt swimming again. Right? But that’s not what I came here to tell you about…
This Week In Film where I create a weekly rundown of the random sh*t I watch. There’s a HIGH / LOW at the end of this entry, so if words aren't really your thing, you can scroll quickly, look at pictures, and skip to my favorite viewings of the week.
Lets begin...
OVERVIEW:
******
PLAYTIME (1967)
dir: Jaques Tati
Thank You Music Box!
If you’re not familiar with M. Hulot, then you need to familiarize yourself with M. Hulot’s Holiday, because Playtime is not a great starting point. However, if you have been indoctrinated into the sight-gag clowning of Tati, then Playtime is the apex of all the director’s genius. A multi-million dollar production of a comedy that holds steadfast to its silent humor roots.
There are essentially six set pieces to the film, give or take. These episodes include the airport, skyscrapers, modern living, nightclub, drugstore, and the carousel. We begin in the airport awaiting our M. Hulot, but we are also introduced to all the additional characters we’re going to follow. The tourists, the president, and the multiple non-Hulots. Tati draws his frame as wide as possible and through sound our focus hones in on the gag. The airport sequence, as other critics have noted, teaches us how to watch the film. Sound will play a large role in finding focus in each larger-than-life frame. By the time we leave the airport, we’ve finally found the real Hulot with his overcoat, umbrella, cap, and pipe.
Hulot visits, along with the tourists, the skyscrapers / business district of Paris – just outside the ancient beauty of the city of lights. A running gag shows the tourists never making it to the landmarks of the city. The Eiffel Tower or Versailles are only seen through glass reflections. At the travel office, we see posters of various destinations such as Hawaii, New York, or Brazil but each poster celebrates the same dull office building. We follow Hulot as he attempts to meet with some manager from the business district, but he keeps missing the man he is supposed to see – both literally and figuratively. Sound again plays to draw you to the joke. Chairs that POP back into form, shoes that CLAP the tile, doors that don’t SLAM, and intercom systems that BUZZ all litter this sequence.
As night falls, Hulot is invited into an old war buddy’s ‘modern’ condo with it’s large windows. We stay outside and watch the interactions through the un-obscured glass. We watch as one condo unknowingly interacts with another. In this section, sound is nearly absent. As the visual gags play out, Tati is prepping us for his crescendo.
The nightclub sequence combines everything we’ve learned in the film. Sound draws us toward a visual gag, until multiple elements begin to play off one another. The nightclub erupts into cacophony. The chaos brings multi-layered gags to the surface as we watch a restaurant destroy itself on opening night. The drugstore is our night’s epilogue. We say goodbye to new friends. We transition into the Carousel of vehicles and life making one large circle and never going anywhere.
Hulot aimlessly wanders from one set piece to another with a childlike innocence. We attempt to understand the world along with him, but the only thing we learn is that for all the planning in modern society life is just meant to be one big circus.
PRIMAL RAGE (1988)
dir: Vittoro Rimbaldi
A big-shot college journalist wants his scoop on what a fringe professor is doing experimenting on baboons. But our journalist doesn’t have what it takes to break the story. His hot-sh*t, no f*cks-to-give tabloid friend chooses to get in the lab and snap some pics for his buddy because “Geraldo Rivera would do it!” We know something ain’t right with that baboon’s brains as they’ve been shot up with cell rejuvenation formula. We’ve already seen our baboon friend go ape during an experiment. Tabloid friend pisses off the baboon, he gets bit, our furry friend gets splattered by a car, and now there’s a deadly rabies outbreak on campus turning students into rage predators.
This film is way better than it should be. Just a glimpse under the hood and we can see why. Primal Rage was the final effects film for Carlo Rimbaldi (who was also the director’s father). Carlo did the effects for Fulci, Bava, Argento, King Kong (1976), Close Encounters of the Third Kind (1977), E.T. (1982), and Dune (1984). The gore and bladder effects are top notch. There are highly effective makeups on the rabid co-eds and great exploding veins. The film was written by Umberto Lenzi who directed Spasmo (1974), Eaten Alive (1980), Cannibal Ferox (1981), and Hitcher In the Dark (1989). But the icing on this late 80’s Itallian horror posing as American horror is the score. While there are some wretched pop songs, the score itself is fantastic. Claudio Simonetti of Goblin fame provides a few adrenaline pumping prog-rock sequences that elevate the whole affair.
Don’t get me wrong, there are a lot of flaws, and it would be easy for an unseasoned horror fan to pick this film apart. But for all it’s obvious set-backs and moments of sub-par dialogue, there is enough to fall in love with. For each line as cringe-worthy as: “I had an abortion, I’m your new roommate.” There’s a plotpoint such as a group of would-be rapist jocks become infected, and we get to see them killed in wonderful ways. And the costumes worn at this college Halloween party are by far the best costumes ever seen in film.
If you’re in the mood for great effects, a rage virus pre 28 Days Later... (2002), a Goblin-esque soundtrack, douche jocks getting their comeuppance, and an outbreak that just sort of fixes itself, then you’re in luck.
THE DEVIL’S HONEY (1986)
Dir: Lucio Fulci
“My name is FEAR, but you can call me Jessica.”
There are enough critic’s reviews out there of this Fulci film. I’m sure there is a lot to say academically about the draw of BDSM relationships. Or something about the cycle of strict censorship being shown via a Dom / Sub relationship. Or even just an explanation of the plot in which a man and woman are in an abusive relationship that revolves around indulging all of the male’s sexual whims. When one day he hits his head, it swells, and he must see a doctor. The doctor botches up the surgery that could have saved the man, and the woman goes insane and decides to kidnap the doctor. The woman then forces the doctor to indulge in her pleasures. But none of that matters. The film feels melodramatic at every turn. It feels long, and there are stretches of dullness covered by eroticism. But you must see this film. Strike that, you must see the beginning of The Devil’s Honey. You will not be disappointed. Do you remember in the Howard Stern film Private Parts (1997) when Stern told the housewives to sit on their speaker and turn the bass up? Well, in the opening of The Devil’s Honey, the man (Johnny) is a musician in a recording session. His girlfriend, the woman (Jessica), arrives and distracts him from playing. Johnny, sexually turned on like he will be until he dies, wields his saxophone like a dildo and plays into her vagina. Warning, you can’t un-see this image. And that is why you must see this Fulci kink film. The film never gets as good as the sax head but does round itself out with a motorcycle handjob, red nail polish painting the crotch of pantyhose, wax pouring, movie theater menage-a-trios, and post-coital poetry.
THE WITCHES OF EASTWICK (1987)
dir: George Miller
Post by: Katie Huhn
Perhaps because of all this media exposure, I have always been a witch at heart. I was a little girl making potions alone in a discarded bird bath overlooking the bayou in Louisiana. I was familiar with the rich history of witchcraft in New Orleans, Marie Laveau/Hoodoo/Voodoo/Santeria, and it kind felt like it was just in the water there. Though I wasn’t practicing grownup witchcraft, technically, the craft is all about intention, and I definitely had that going for me. But I digress.
Alex, Jane, and Sukie are a trio of best friends leading very different lives. Alex is a local artist with one daughter; Jane is a dedicated cellist and music teacher, unable to have children; Sukie writes for the local paper and has six daughters. They all share that they’re unlucky in love and commiserate this weekly with wine and fruit dates. At this point, the women are unaware of their innate abilities.
Enter the mysterious Daryl Van Horne. He is the whirlwind force that opens the ladies up emotionally, sexually, and magically. During a competitive tennis match, the three women discover what they are capable of and set out to share their lives in a way they didn’t expect.
The chemistry between the three female leads elevates their sisterhood on screen. The utter bliss the ladies share because of their magic, and sure their mutual affection for Daryl, was an inspiration for me in my own female friendships. And I was lucky enough to achieve this happiness in childhood with my (still) best friends. This movie is always a comforting and relaxing watch, and this time was no different. The fact that we get all of this high female energy from the director of the Mad Max Trilogy is surprising. After seeing Mad Max Fury Road (2015), it’s less surprising. Thanks for EVERYTHING George Miller!
SLEDGEHAMMER (1983)
dir: David A. Prior
“Sledge. Sledge. Sledgehammer” – Peter Gabriel
Hey everybody have you heard the news? Joe Bob's Last Drive-In Show S03E08 was VHS night. Joe Bob and Darcy are handing out Iron Man awards for anyone who actually sat through both films. This was a chore. As the VHS quality matched the quality of the stories too. The first film, Sledgehammer is noteworthy as the first horror film shot on VHS. And that is where the noteworthy-ness ends.
Shot entirely on ‘sh*tty-o’ [video]. A young boy is locked in a closet (in one of an endless series of excruciating slow motion shots) so the boy's mother can have some fun with a suitor. During the steamy sex scene - made steamier by the lack of focus, proper lighting, and Vaseline smeared on the camera lens - the mother and lover are killed by a... SLEDGEHAMMER. Some years later a group of non-actors and family of the director show up posing as 'teenagers' looking to party. During their debacherous Budweiser chug-fest and food fight and seance, they start getting killed off by a towering flannel-wearing guy in a half-finished see-through plastic mask. Our supernatural killer is supposed to be the boy who was locked in the closet. We see later how the boy died in the closet, so who killed his mother? This is part of a series of questions that go unanswered and uncared about. Our killer is unstoppable and blinks in and out of existence making it even more difficult to get away. There's a final girl, nudity, and all the normal trappings of a slasher film, but David A. Prior never gets anywhere near even the worst of the first-wave slashers. If a film such as Graduation Day (1981) is normally considered a bad slasher film then Sledgehammer would be a Z grade version of B-A-D. But, and there is a but. But, you can whole-heartedly laugh at the ineptitude. And as Joe Bob says at the end of the double feature, no matter how you cut it, they made a film and just that should always be celebrated.
THINGS (1989)
dir: Andrew Jordan
"You didn't tell me you were a kindergarten artist." "Well, you didn't tell me you were an *sshole."
Hey everybody have you heard the news? Joe Bob's Last Drive-In Show S03E08 closed out the night with the worst feature film I think I've ever seen. Not even Chris Jericho who came in as the Canadian and bad film expert could support this viewing of Things. To make matters worse, I was staying with the in-laws and was forced to shut it off. Amusingly enough, they sat through Sledgehammer - the first feature of the night - and laughed at the stupidity. But the moment Things moves past the nudity at the beginning and dives straight into the inane conversations between Don and Fred they all cried out in unison: "Turn it off." So, I had to force myself to sit through this after-the-fact. It's one thing, watching live with The Last Drive-In Mutant Fam where none of us know where it's going and we can all enjoy the trash-fire together. It's something totally different knowing what you're getting into with this garbage. Darcy even cries out: "Why are we watching this?"
"Next time you come with me, you can just stay at home." Don pleads with Fred between conversations about Salvador Dali, watching the bestiality channel, and listening to a tape recorder found in the freezer. Replacing the tape recorder with a coat in the freezer because it's hot. Don eats a roach sandwich and they watch and even worse film on TV called Groundhog's Day Massacre while a woman gives birth to a litter of THINGS. One of the actors just vanishes for a large section of the film. We jump into what feels like another film where there's a doctor chopping up a patient. And the whole endeavor is orchestrated via a Casio keyboard template soundtrack. The end title says: You have just experienced Things. And it's correct. We haven't watched a movie, we've just sat through an exploration of the idea of patients. Or Joe Bob says more succinctly that Things is the filmic version of dementia. The dialogue in the film has the cadence of conversation so you think you can follow along, but there's no way you can. There's no other way to put it, this Thing is terrible.
dir: Zach Braff
Fun, not good, great to see these titans of acting together but a forgettable experience. Zach Braff directing a geriatric caper film? I remember when Braff was an indie darling with Garden State (2004). Remember Natalie Portman as a Nathan Rabin coined Manic Pixie Dreamgirl who shows an apathetic Braff what living is all about via listening to The Shins? We collectively fell in love in 2004 but after an onslought of Manic Pixie Dreamgirls and apathetic boys, it lost its luster. Braff fell from Indie grace with his I'm-trying-too-hard Wish I Was Here (2014). This led to the generic remake of Martin Brest's 1979 Going In Style. The original film featured George Burns, Art Carney, and Lee Strasberg as the trio of elderly bandits. A remake wasn't necessary, but like the original film neither of the versions matter in the annuls of film history. I will complement the film by saying everyone involved appears to be having a good time. Morgan Freeman, Michael Cain, Alan Arkin, Ann-Margret, and Christopher Lloyd all know they are in a throw away film and just have fun with the experience. Even Matt Dillon tosses in a easily forgettable performance which he deserved after doing such a great job in the first season of Wayward Pines. None of this is meant as ill-criticism of the film. We all need mindless entertainment from time to time.
DON'T TELL MOM THE BABYSITTER'S DEAD (1991)
dir: Stephen Herek
Post by: Katie Huhn
What a gorgeous and very 90's septet of films from Stephen Herek: Critters (1986), Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure (1989), Don't Tell Mom... (1991), The Mighty Ducks (1992), The Three Musketeers (1993), Mr. Holland's Opus (1995), and 101 Dalmatians (1996).
This one is such a classic! It was the ultimate summer movie for my sister and I growing up. We loved how the Crandell siblings pulled together for the big party at the end. Sue Ellen’s amazing fashion sense and ability to blend in with sophisticated adults was our inspiration for reading Vogue and Cosmopolitan. And of course, the death of the b*tch-*ss babysitter was peak childhood joy. To be fair, we were horror fans first. Bonus, Swell’s hot-*ss BF Bryan definitely contributed to my sexual awakening.
Being latchkey children, my sister and I saw an aspect of our childhood being played out without consequence or risk and with added benefits! The Crandell's got to eat, sleep, and hang out with their friends whenever they wanted and had access to the “borrowed” petty cash for their whims. This one still gives me all-the-feels when watching, and it totally holds up, in my humble opinion.
THE AMUSEMENT PARK (1973) (2019)
dir: George A. Romero
America's favorite indie horror director, George A. Romero broke new ground with Night Of The Living Dead (1968). Due to a copyright error, Romero and producers never saw the wealth from their first film. This didn't deter Romero. He followed Night with There's Always Vanilla (1971), Season of the Witch (1972), and The Crazies (1973). In 1973, Romero was also commissioned by The Lutheran Society to create a film about ageism and elder abuse. This film was seen as too horrifying for essentially a project that was to be a PSA. The Lutheran Society kept the film, and it never saw the light of day until 2018 when it was tracked down by Romero writing collaborator Daniel Kraus (The Living Dead). The print was given a 4K restoration, a premiere during the pandemic, and is now on Shudder. Basically, horror writer Daniel Kraus, found the Holy Grail of cinematic artifacts.
There are a lot of elements one can unpack in The Amusement Park. We have an on-screen narrator Lincoln Maazel that tells us everything we need to know. He pleads for our empathy toward the elderly prior to taking us to the park. In a white room we meet Maazel again as a disheveled man, broken by society. We also meet another version of Maazel who's new to the room and against the behest of the broken man decides to enter the amusement park. From the onset the elderly are swindled out of their priced antiques for tickets to the rides. None of the signs address the park, they are all meant to deter the elderly from riding rides or participating. Maazel's day in the park quickly becomes a nightmare. One that reflects how society treats the elderly. The youth wandering about laugh and detest and beat up the elderly. The nursing home is the only ride that is encouraged for the senior citizens. We glimpse flashes of monsters and grim reapers stalking about. A fortune teller gives a young couple what they ask for a detailed description of their future. One in which the boy grows old and needs medical attention, and the girl must run down the street to a payphone because they cannot afford an apartment with a phone or power. Maazel is plagued by a group of bikers - which we will see again in Romero's Knightriders (1981) - that rough him up. And when Maazel seeks medical attention he's given a band-aide and told to leave.
Romero was never subtle with his social commentary. Here, he was initially given free reign to make a statement. The unrestraint of The Amusement Park is what gives the film its terrifying elements. A director that used zombies eating flesh as a comment on consumerism was told to make a PSA on ageism, and the straightforwardness of the vignettes proved to be too much for any investor at the time. While Romero could have fought for the film's release, he moved on. Even if we didn't get The Amusement Park when it came out, at least we got Lincoln Maazel in Romero's Martin (1977) a few years later.
FATAL EXAM (1990)
dir: Jack Snyder
Students of a parapsychology class embark on a weekend they'll never forget but one we will immediately forget by the credits. The trivia for this film says it was shot in 1985, as if to cut it some slack. But I think of it this way. You shot it in 1985 and continued to raise the funds for five years to get it released, and you never decided to re-watch your footage? I'm kidding, but this film is bad no matter when it was made. The acting is as wooden as it comes from our leading man Nick. There's a whole five minute monologue to provide all the exposition needed about a house that may be haunted by a patriarch that killed his family. And honestly, the film runs smoothly, the gags are decent, and everyone does a serviceable job. But Mike Coleman as Nick Krader ruins everything. He is so unfathomly terrible, he drags down the rest of the film. If someone were to edit out all of his scenes, I'm sure this would be one of those lost 80's classics.
There is one moment, one, that nearly raises the bar. One of the students wakes up the first night, opens a drawer in the coffee table, and sees a severed head that moves. We are then offered the realistic reaction from this dopey student again and again: "All I know is I saw a f*cking head in the coffee table." This line almost makes the film bearable.
******
Best viewing of the last two weeks. It should be The Amusement Park. A lost classic. An unseen Romero film. A triumph of terrifying PSAs. But, seeing Playtime in the theater, there are no words.
BEST VIEWING: PLAYTIME
Worst viewing of the last two weeks. Easiest answer ever...
WORST VIEWING: THINGS
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