Mom...Dad...It’s all Ridley Scott’s Fault...
My dream of being a Mod-superstar is over...

I've got a confession that I'm going to make.

Most of you already know it...but to the greater hip population of the world, this may come as a revelation.

I really really love Ridley Scott's Blade Runner...and have...oh, more or less have ever since I convinced my dad to rent it when I was in the fourth grade because it was in the sci-fi section, and Han Solo was on the cover.

Keep in mind, I'm not trying to cop to some sort of childhood preternatural discriminating movie taste...I also convinced my dad to take me to see Dungeonmaster (this http://imdb.com/title/tt0089060/ ...although they took down the good poster for it) at about the same time.

I went to see the newly released "final cut" in the theater this morning...and yeah, it was the first screening...but I didn't go out of any desire to fly the Dork-nation flag. I just went then because it was early, it was a weekday, and I was hoping no one would be there (see my last post...and in reference, the guy who sat next to me was breathing so loud I began to wonder if he was trying to inhale stuff off the floor...and he brought in his lunch...oh it's a whole separate thing...). It wasn't crowded, but I was surprised at how many people were there for the time and the day.

And there was this one lady...

Now keep in mind...I've been to Star Wars screenings...I got taken to a premier of a Star Trek movie...I've done Rocky Horror...hell, I went to a midnite Raiders of the Lost Ark screening with about 2 dozen half-assed Indiana Jones...(notice I haven't even touched on my trips to San Diego's Comic-Con in this list)...and yeah, I've seen the chubby dude who made his Tron outfit. I'm no stranger to costumes in movie theaters.

But in her beige trench coat and whatnot...it was decidedly more Dr. Who than Rick Deckard...even with the neon-shaft umbrella that she popped open during the credits. And she let out a loud "Whoo-Hoo!" at the Ladd logo...and at the end credits...

My point is that she was a fan...and obviously a very enthusiastic one. In fact, I think that maybe the girlfriend of the dude behind me appeared to be the only person who hadn't seen the movie in the entire theater. It has fans. It has a considerable fanbase. There's message boards devoted to it. There's people who've copied the poster font, and used the logo on things.

I have no problem with that. It's a visionary movie (if a little thin on solid plot ground), and it still holds up, and still has copycats today. Writing this now...I'm only proving that I'm a part of that camp, that nation.

The problem (and wherein my shame lies) is that I live in Los Angeles. If it's not embarrassing (and painfully pretentious for some reason) to say I'm a writer in this town, it's admitting that Blade Runner is one of my influences. And dammit if I didn't also go to film school....do you see where I'm going? Amongst my generation, Blade Runner is second only to Star Wars as the most clichéd title to be mentioned as one's reason for getting into the movies!

Although at least it has enough artistic integrity for me to continue thumbing my nose at the people with GI Joe and Nintendo tattoos...and I do, you know.

But there's nothing to represent the same aesthetic exactly. Film Noir came before it of course, but using that is even more cliché AND pretentious...and as for earlier sci-fi, umm...Logan's Run or The Black Hole just aren't the same. And the stuff that came after...well, it's derivative of Blade Runner and every film snot in town will be happy to remind you of that.

To some degree, I blame this on the internet and the large scale connectivity across border and nation (hey, like this website here!). Before the internet, I WAS the guy showing Blade Runner to my "unenlightened" friends...and then nodding cooly in hip cabal with the guys who had already seen it. Now this kind of crap is everywhere...and frighteningly enough, I'm sure I could now find guys who did the same thing as me getting their dads to take them to Dungeonmaster!

It's like that joke I heard this comedian tell once about China that went something like this: "There's 1 billion people there. If someone told you that you were 'one in a million'...there's still a thousand other guys out there just like you..."

-----

Ok, ok. Most of what I'm saying here is in jest, largely because I'm tired of people defining themselves by the popular culture they were exposed to while growing up...probably because I was the first guy I knew who did that...and now everyone I meet or see seems to do that...

Blade Runner is still very special to me because of the place it takes me to, especially since most movies fail to take me on such a special journey into a richly detailed movie world. I mean, I've seen it at least a hundred times, (this was the third time I've seen it in the theater) and I still noticed all sorts of little things I'd never seen (not including the little things they added or changed for this edition). And the scene where Deckard shoots Zhora in the back as she runs through the panes of glass is still one of the most chilling scenes of romanticized violence I've ever seen.

But also, it's inspiring for me in a completely different way...one that sometimes gives me hope. When Blade Runner was made, Jaws and Star Wars had already come and changed the movie world to the Summer Blockbuster Universe (that paved the way for a lot of the bloated nonsense still in theaters today). Somehow, Ridley Scott managed to slip this semi-esoteric existentialist film noir/sci-fi hybrid through the system...have it flop, haha...and somehow still be a cinematic landmark...with a goofy fanbase.

The funny this is that this form of inspiration sort of affirmed when I went to see The Darjeeling Limited an hour later. Sure it's the polar opposite type of movie...but in a universe of Bay/Bruckheimer movies (them together and separate)...Wes Anderson still gets to make his quirly little movies...

There is a way...

Cheers.

Do You Hear What I Hear?
Take a moment to reconsider the license to kill...

I was going to start this with one of those "can someone help me out here?" sort of phrases, implying that I wanted some sort of explanation for the events that I witnessed...

But it would've been untrue.

I don't need an explanation. I know what was happening.

I went to a show to see Ladytron in San Diego this time last week. They put on a helluva show...to me...I don't want to be responsible for anyone rushing out to pick up their albums based on my recommendation only to respond with the cry of "That ain't music!" (Try it with Generic Redneck Accent...it works better)....but I'm on the verge of digression. It was a good show...but it could've been better....but that was through no fault of the band.

We got there for the last few songs of the opening act. We weaved through the sparse crowd. We found a spot and planted our feet.

Therein lies the problem.

I should preface this with a little set-up. See, I never get to movies really early if I can help it, especially if it's just me. I don't show up late either, but I try to get there about the time most everyone has settled in. Then, I navigate to a spot where there are few or no people...and if I can't get away, I try to make choices based on who looks like they've got the potential to annoy the crap out of me. Big warning signs are things like cell phones in hand talking or testing...and I avoid anyone under the age of...say 25...like plague, espcially if there are more than two of them.

However, when I get there early, without fail, if there's a bunch of loudmouths, a dude with the bright light of his phone open the whole time, or whatever...they WILL find me.

No joke. I've put it to scientific test. (Lately, I've come to realize that it might not just me...but that there are purebred @$$holes everywhere now.)

Now...with the movies, I have a theory that home video viewing has led to this sort of inconsiderate "casualness" at the theater. Fifty years ago and before, going to the movies was a big experience that people dressed up for...now people treat the theater like a version of their own living room they don't have to clean up. Well...we could tie in the old theatrical bit of the "peanut gallery" and the lower classes behavior while watching plays as well...we've sort of come full circle.

In many cases, I'll go to the pricier theater, just because it thins the likelihood of this...but doesn't eliminate it.

Concerts, however, are a little different. They're louder. When there's no seats, there's a lot more movement. Alcohol is frequently involved. It's a little more interactive than having a story beamed at you on a large screen.

Oh...but most importantly...they usually cost a helluva lot more....AND...in many case, they're one time experiences, as you may never get to see that band ever again.

So back to Ladytron. The lights dim. The intro music pipes up. We're bracing for the goodness to come when were jostled aside by this slope browed neanderthal (I'm not just being mean, I have corroborators) and his two chicks. Ok, ok...whatever, we're at a show...it's not too packed...there's room for everyone. If it had ended there, I wouldn't have thought twice. The band takes the show, and we're on the go.

But for the first two songs caveman keeps dragging out his phone (which again, the light keeps catching my eye) and keeps talking or texting. When he's not doing that, he's leaning over yelling into one of the girl's ears. I can't understand him...but I can hear him as being discordant from the music. Then the phone. Then more yelling. I try yelling for him to shut the phone...but he can't hear me.

So eventually, I just tried to get far enough away from him...which sort of worked...except now the place has been filling up...and there's more press toward the stage. It helped...but I'm still catching this thing blinking on every now and again. And this went on for the whole show...(a few times the two girls left intermittently to answer phone calls...and they didn't look like doctors on call)...

Ok. So you say, he probably wasn't a fan or didn't care?

Not so, says I. He mouthed along to some of the songs while texting. But the weirdest part, at the closing of several songs, he's pumping his fist in the air all excited....but what I don't get...to me, he hasn't payed attention to the music since he's shown up.

Then I encounter my next mystery I've seen at too many shows...which managed to be wonderfully distracting. A dude dressed up in his nouveau-mod suit, with a trio of dolled up sluts has moved in behind me. They're very very very sauced...and getting worse as the show goes on. Oh...and they're dancing...well...they're flailing...but it was distinctly an approximation of dancing. It was on beat a few times anyhow.

And they got a little room to move...oh, but keep in mind, no one else is dancing and though we are on the floor there's no "pit" of any sort...so they're flailing, and though there's some room around them...yeah, they're all over my back.

The blond girl seemed to be especially fond of driving her squared off purse into the space between my shoulder blades when not boxing me on the arms with it. Sure I shoot them some dirty looks...but they're drunk and appear to be on the verge of passing out...they don't get it. Finally, I was able to ditch them for a while when blondie hits me with another surprising back jab with her sharp purse, and I throw back my shoulders which knocked her into her friends and well away from me.

Now this was a fairly low end show cost-wise...but when I've got to really big ticket expensive shows...I've never understood being this out of it (minus the obnoxiousness)...Why do you pay good money for something you're not going to remember? The really shocking one is when paramedics have to get involved which I've also seen more than a few times. I get it...and I don't get it.

What I wonder more than anything, is how do they always find me?

Although...like I said...I'm getting more and more convinced that they are rapidly becoming the majority. The weirdest part though is that if you do confront some loudmouth jack@$$ at a show or whatever, they act as though you're the rude one for infringing on their right to be obnoxious in places where other people paid good money to enjoy something without the unnecessary input. Especially in the last few years...where somehow 9/11 and the Iraq war have been alchemistically changed being an @$$hole into some sort of display of liberty and freedom.

But really...it's also the paying money for something you don't actually pay any attention to, and that you probably won't remember.

Seriously...I'm not looking for answers...but it's a basic illogic that seems to be more and more of the system now...

I just felt like saying something.

Cheers.

Sans Cheveux...Sans Souci...

And back down to the world...a year later. Hope no one missed me. I didn't get any cards.

In order to relieve my occasional deep-seated anxiety at the thought of rest and relaxation...as the rising fear of stopping before I complete a work is reaching hysterical levels of horror-movie like foreshadowing (someone get me a Ouija!)...I've decided to sit down and write me up a whatever the hell you wanna call this.

For a moment...I wanted to just complain...something I've been credited with being a formidable purveyor of. And rarely...ever...do I lack for something to complain about. I can even complain about my complaining as it doesn't actually do anything. So in some sense, I'm working on leveling that off some...at the same time, I think it removes one of my most loveable traits to my legion of fans who are fortunate enough not to have to share physical space with me...

In particular, I was going to complain about things that usually involve lines...like the grocery store, the post office...places where those who could be mentally like unto the gods themselves are somehow reduced to idiocy by either standing in line or by the baleful gaze of the person with whom they must do some exchange of business. That and the fact that no one reads or pays attention to what they're doing...like the woman I watched enter her pin number in the zip code screen and vice versa seven or so times at the self-checkout lane at the grocery store. On one end you might say in a wonderfully compassionate tone "Well, why didn't you help her?", to which I might reply with just a hint of vinegar-like spray "If you always step in, when are they ever going to learn?"

It usually makes me think of the scene in Shaun of the Dead where he goes through his routine the day after everyone's a zombie...and he doesn't notice the difference...

But I didn't come here for that...

I've been doing research for a new idea for a book, and frankly it's led me to have to tap into some areas that I usually leave untouched for the very reason I wanted to leave it untouched the last time I looked into it.

Now, I'll admit to having had a certain fascination with the occult/secrety society/fantasy side of life since I was fairly young. Thing is, on one side, people tend to either believe in that stuff wholeheartedly and except things as presented, or they have just enough of it in them that they'll at least read a horoscope and maybe screw around with some tarot/numerology/palmistry. On the other, there are of course people who believe that if you can't see it, it don't exist. Then there's my group...I believe that there is more to life than the immediate reality...but I also think that the New Agers, Wiccaans, UFOer's, and hell most regular Judeo-Christian folk are all...well...umm...wrong. Not that I have any answers either...so I try not to be too loud or mean about it...most of the time...

In any event, there's a history to all this stuff. It's not like people just started seeing UFO's in the last 50 years since Roswell. And crazy religious stuff goes way way way back...umm...pretty much as far as we do as a species. Hell, people still believe that there were whole continents (and not just Atlantis) that sunk into the sea. Problem is, you try to track some of the history of this stuff and within mere minutes you can be up to your @$$hole in Reptiloid conspiracy theories (amongst many others).

Now granted, I'm doing this for a work of fiction, so it isn't as though I'm worried about my own credibility...I've got a license to drive this fantasy car wherever the yellow brick road to Valhalla may take me...but at the same time, I just want the facts.

In the defence of the academic community, it's easy to see why you wouldn't wanna touch this stuff. It's not as though crackpots have been in short supply even long before the dull-witted populace I alluded to before. In fact, from the research I have been gathering, it seems to take about a sweep of the second hand on a clock before anyone you can sort of reasonably take seriously is suddenly surrounded by a gaggle of goofy sychophants, supporters, and wildly unbelievable corroborators.

Not to mention all the contradiction in any of these fields, followed by all the splintering. I have seen the top of the conjecture mountain and found it's apex to indeed by very high. Sometimes, trying to read through this stuff, I feel like I need a sherpa just to crest the lower hills of this malarkey.

Even the more prevalent and widely accepted modern day religious materials fall prey to this sort of thing. For every book written by one guy trying to prove something in the Bible or Torah is wrong or simply a bunch of horse hockey, there's twenty more written to refute that claim. But almost all of these books I assume are only attempting preach to the choir, because most of them use this circular argument to defend themselves (ie. "It's in the Bible. It must be true.") with no further evidence, or they fall back on some sort of personal epiphany they had in life, which while it may be touching, is a PERSONAL experience that isn't necessarily felt or understood by someone else, especially a non-believer.

And of course, I cringe any time I walk by any religious section and see the gazillion morons who cashed in on refuting the DaVinci Code. Although, I don't know what's worse, all that garbage, Dan Brown's goofy novel itself, or the fact that many people wholeheartedly bought into his fiction or these other yay-hoos opinions. The whole Merovingian/Last Scion "what really happened to Jesus?" thing is a fascinating chunk of religious consipiracy history...but it's just as surrounded in murky mythology and general nuttiness as any of the rest of it. The history of the Tooth Fairy is easier to trace (or the fact that a fair few Catholic Saints appear to be..uh...Greco-Roman gods...)

The facts. I just want the facts.

But I realize...hey...I am dealing with secret societies...and conspiracies...and mythology...and well, religion (which if it were so clear cut and everyone agreed, we probably wouldn't have so many franchises, n'est-ce pas?) so things like facts are few and far between down this winding and very twisted road. It's the nature of the beast. So I'm willing to compromise...

How about just a sort of journalistic approach? A Who/What/When/Where/Why? Although not so much on the why...that tends to be the express lane to Conjecture Mountain.

The closest I've come in my goal, and the farthest I need to get into the why in many ways was Frazer's The Golden Bough. It pointed out something I had never really thought of which was this: People in desert climes usually have a dance or ceremony to call down the rain...People who live in jungle/rain forest climes usually have a dance or ceremony to stop the rain.

In some ways, that's all I ever needed to know. And yet, the search continues...hell, maybe I'll have found evidence of a lost continet by the time I'm done...

Cheers.

Barbarella...Without the Dignity
"The wheel of the future...turns..."

Nothing could've brought me out of hiding except for this.

More than once, I've warned of the dangers of returning to the beloved movies of your past. More than once, like a moth to the flames, I have returned to those movies. On some occasions, I have, of course, had a beloved former cinema gem in my mind's eye dashed to the ground, forever broken and tarnished. On a few occasions, I've been delightfully surprised that the movie managed to still hold some or all of it's magic. On the rest of those occasions, I admit, I ran full tilt head first into the open arms of an old movie's overwhelming badness.

Tonight, I recaptured my youth. It was awful, and I loved it.

Starcrash (1979, d. Luigi Cozzi)

The Story: Hmmm...if only there was a story to summarize...just read the review below, I'm taking this one a step at a time.

The Review: Now, by 1979, we all know that Star Wars had blown away box office records and spawned a following that multiplied faster than Gremlins being sprayed with a firehose. It wasn't, however, until the success was solidified by The Empire Strikes Back, that the drive really geared up to cash in on sci-fi's new success.

Probably the two most well known cash-in attempts were made by the name that produces a groan in nearly every cineaste, Dino De Laurentiis. Now, I own both of those films, (...and how shall I put it in the most diplomatic way between the lovers and the haters of these films...ahem...) and though they are not classics, they still retain a certain joyous charm shown by the lavish work put into them. Those films are Flash Gordon (1980) and Dune (1984). But of course, those weren't the only ones, they were probably just the biggest and the only ones that anyone seems to remember. In 1978, Producers Nat and Patrick Wachberger must have decided to toss anything and everything into one movie in the hopes of grabbing some franchise-starting glory.

If you've seen Star Wars, I don't need to describe the opening crawling spaceship shot. The major difference here of course is that the Star Destroyer looked like...well, something that could damn well destroy some stars. Our spaceship here looks like you could crush it by accidentally laying a book on top of it...or knocking it off the table. Once we got inside the ship, and I saw all the left over leatherette costumes from Planet of the Vampires (1965...and a much better film), I thought maybe it wouldn't be all bad. That was until I saw one of the most leaden exposition scenes ever that was interrupted by what appeared to be a super-imposed death dealing force field that looked like the inner workings of a lava lamp. Oh, oh, oh...the guys in the ship are on a mission from the Emperor to find the ultimate weapon created by the evil...are you ready for this...Count Zarth Arn! (Zarth's not only pure evil...he also has one of cinema-dom's most impressive haircuts...I'm not even sure I can accurately describe it. [see above for cropped photo goodness])

Ok, moving on. We cut to space smugglers Stella Star (Caroline Munro, former Bond girl, The Spy Who Loved Me) and her buddy Akton (Marjoe Gortner, who grew to fame as the youngest ordained minister..and who later appeared in American Ninja 3: Blood Hunt) who are on the run (for what...I have no idea...they're just...um...smugglers) from the space cops, Thor and robot Elle (who's actually a guy...and whose voice sounds like Martin Sheen doing a bad Southern accent). They jump into hyperspace (and we're treated to more impressively bad visuals), but are caught after stopping to checkout a derelict space craft. Oh, oh, oh...the derelict craft was one of the launches from the Emperor's scout ship from beginning of the movie...I probably forgot to mention it because even as I was watching it, I didn't think it would be important.

So Stella and Akton (I keep thinking of Ohio...or bug spray for some reason) are sentenced to hard labor on two different planets (Oh, I should mention that the judge looks like the head Martian from Invaders from Mars [1953...and also a better movie even with the goofy effects]). Right....Let's just skip ahead. Stella makes an...hmmm...confusing escape from...ummm...well, I'm not sure what sort of labor...something to do with a furnace. So she escapes, and is picked up by....Thor and Elle, the space cops! Huh? Oh, oh, oh...apparently, Stella is the best pilot in the galaxy, and Akton is the best navigator...so the Emperor wants them to find the rest of the missing ships that escaped from the spy ship. Are you following me? Good...let's continue.

The first ship is on a planet...well, it's just a planet...it has an ocean, a beach...and a bunch of Amazons...oh, oh, oh, and some woman who we don't know but we do find out that she's loyal to Zarth, and she hates Elle the robot...for some reason. So Stella and Elle go down, they get captured, the make another goofy implausible escape, and are then attacked by an enormous stop motion statue. An Aside here: Clash of the Titans was one of the movies I shouldn't have gone back to, but suddenly and inexplicably, my heart yearned in the hardest way for the majesty that was Harryhausen's Kraken. Oh, and I guess there were no survivors in the ship...no one really says what happened to them, but the Amazon queen does tell Stella and Elle that they are spies, and they'll never find Zarth's ultimate weapon. On to the next planet...

For some reason, they stop off on some frozen planet to check out the spy ship that we already saw explode. Now we're told that you'll freeze to death instantly if the sun goes down on this planet. Why are we told this? Well, because someone's got to freeze to death of course. As it turns out, Thor is a traitor. He's working for Zarth and he leaves Stella outside to freeze after he "kills" Akton (remember the old soap opera rule: if you don't see a body...). Somehow, Elle saves Stella from freezing to death...I'd tell you how, but I really don't know...but she is in suspended animation (?). Akton returns from the "dead" with...um...super powers. He kills Thor, and re-animates Stella...who looks like she was covered in a slimy version of that fake snow sh!t you spray on X-mas trees. I think that it's at this point that Stella somehow discovers that Akton can see the future...right-o...if it isn't, I'm sorry...but you should know...Akton can see the future...but apparently, he can only see it after getting whacked on the head by Thor...Moving on...

Now the third and final planet they visit is filled with smoke machines....well, smoke machines and cavemen. Yup. They club Elle to smithereens (he's a robot remember?), and capture Stella...who's then rescued by David Hasselhoff! Part of me wishes that was just a punchline...but seriously, she's rescued by David Hasselhoff, who plays Simon, the Emperor's son. He doesn't tell Stella that at first...because...well, he's not sure what sides she's on...but despite that, he still saves her from the cavemen...sort of. Within four minutes of screen time, they're both captured by the cavemen...until Akton arrives wielding something that's kind of...ummm...light saberish. He whoops some cavemen @$$, and then reveals that...dun-Dun-DDUUUUUUUNNNNN...the planet they're on holds Zarth's ultimate weapon! (There actually is some explanation on how he figured that out...but that would involve me rehashing some nonsensical convoluted plot points.)

Next, they go down into the weapon's...ummm...whatever...um...home. Akton does a lot of explaining, and who should turn up but Zarth Arn and his haircut! Oh yeah, he's also got some men with him who look just like the Emperor's guys from the beginning (the leatherette spacesuits) but with slightly different hats AND two...umm..stop-motion robots with pirate swords. Like any good villain, he then explains that he's going to blow up the ultimate weapon (huh? why?), which will also kill the Emperor whom Zarth told that his son was there and who is on his way. To someone somewhere...this made perfect sense. Nonetheless, Zarth takes off, leaving the robots to watch the prisoners. What he's going to do next, I have no idea...take over the universe, I guess...but without his ultimate weapon. Maybe he just went out for a sandwich and a beer.

So, Akton cuts loose with somemore Jedi-esque work on the robots...and though he can still see the future, as far as I understand...he's still cut pretty badly by one. At this point, Hasselhoff (I know I said his character was Simon...but I'm just gonna call him Hasselhoff which I think is a cooler more heroic name) leaps into action with the "light saber" and kills the other robot. Akton, in Ben Kenobi fashion, has to die to fulfill...umm...destiny...which may have meant something if we knew what the hell was going on with him to begin with. Oh, when he dies, he disappears in something that sort of looks like what my TV does when I turn it off. Sure enough, right about this time, the Emperor shows up.

Ok, pause in action...The Emperor did appear before now, but I was sort of saving him up. Do we all know who Christopher Plummer is? I have two fond childhood memories of Chris. Every X-mas my sister and I watched the Sound of Music on TV with my mom, and Christopher Plummer was the gruff but enventually endearing Captain Von Trapp. Later, my dad and I used to watch Pete Sellers act a fool in the Pink Panther movies, and Christopher Plummer took over the role of the dashing Sir Charles Litton (aka. The Phantom) in Return of the Pink Panther. Yet here he is, and you can almost see the dignity washing away with each frame that he's on screen. Something inside me shed a tear...while I laughed my @$$ off as he explained that his space ship could freeze time while they escaped the destruction of the ultimate weapon. It only got worse...

With the ultimate weapon of unknown weapon-ness out of the way, they go to attack Zarth Arn's flying fortress....dear God...Must go on...must finish story...flying fortress that is shaped like a giant hand. (I should mention that it was at this point that I mentally confirmed that I had seen this movie as a kid...I had never forgotten the flying space hand.) Now we're treated to the second round of space dog fights in this movie...treated...yes, Mr. Cozzi, our director, probably inadvertently taking a page from the serials of the past that inspired Star Wars, uses the exact same footage of space ships flying around over and over and over and over and over and over and over again...until...we send in the flying coffins!

Yup, the emperor launches two-man flying coffins in through the windows of Zarth's flying hand ship. Amazingly, though a great many of these flying coffins make it in...and ignoring that the vacuum of space isn't pulling them and everything else in the ship out into the vaccum of space...they all magically seems to break through the same windows over and over and over again. I mentioned "two-man flying coffins" because that's what comes out of them: two men. However, I began to wonder if the Emperor was such a good guy because...uh...well...all these guys get slaughtered...and um, all his spaceships get destroyed while he, Stella, and Hasselhoff all stand around watching. Sort of seemed like an intergalactic snuff film there for a few minutes.

Now, all seems lost. Zarth Arn's going to destroy the Emperor's home planet...in a way that's never explained...and that definitely will NOT involve the ultimate weapon. Suddenly the Emperor is hit with a plan: Starcrash. Nope, it hasn't been mentioned before, not counting the title. It's sort of explained in a way that can't be summarized by the human mind how there's going to be some sort of time space warp involving the flying hand ship and some flying city we've never seen before, but essentially, Stella and Elle (who's been rebuilt...quelle surprise!) basically fly out to the flying city and ram it into Zarth's ship. They escape. Hasselhoff picks them up. Zarth blows up in a lot more repetitive footage of bad miniatures exploding. And instead of a The End with Hasselhoff and Stella making out, Cozzi instead decides to drive Plummer closer to the brink of madness by making him recite the most bizarre, pointless, and nonsensical soliloquoy ever filmed. THE END.

For a minute, I considered rewinding the movie, and copying the soliloquoy down for you...but no, no, no...you gotta see it for yourself...truly. In fact, looking back, I'm not sure that I've done this movie an iota of justice in merely describing it. If you can, just take an hour and a half of your life and throw it away on this glorious travesty of a movie. If you can't manage that, take like a five dollar bill out of your wallet and burn it...for Plummer...for Hasselhoff...and for the great movie that is...STARCRASH!

(I would've done my usual reviewing of the performances, direction, camerawork, music, etc. ...but come on...if you just read all that...do I really need to?)

Cheers.

The Great Taste that Tastes Great
Can someone say...spaghetti?

Ironically enough, now that I've started working again, there's decent odds I might be able to write a few more of these... whether you care or not.

So I started a new show, and that means money! And money means...well, buying stuff! So in order to celebrate my new gainful employment, I started off with a purchase of Wild East's latest DVD offering. Let's just start talking about that shall we.

A Taste of Killing (aka. Per Il Gusto Di Uccidere, 1966, d. Tonino Valerii)

The Story: Bounty killer Hank Fellows collects rewards from stolen money shipments. His latest bounty puts him in the employ of a wealthy miner who wishes to protect his gold from the bandit who killed Hank's brother.

The Review: Let's just start by saying that I'm going to give Tonino Valerii a lot of leeway on this one. First of all, I really enjoy both Day of Anger (1968) and Price of Power (1969), though I have to admit I don't like My Name is Nobody (1973) half as much as many spaghetti fans. Second, this was his first movie, and although some first movies are great, I think they should be judged more on their merits and promise. Admittedly, this is all in hindsight and in some ways going backwards through his filmography, whereas I might look at your first movie without any other reference and pretty much denounce it as crap. That having been said...

I debated how much to describe in the story section in how Hank Fellows (Craig Hill) works. It's actually the most interesting aspect of the movie, and the one that separates from most of the genre. Hank follows gold and money shipments through dangerous areas watching them through a telescopic lens mounted on his rifle. Bandits attack the coach (Hank makes no interference), they ride off with the money, and Hank hunts them down and gets the money back. The device of the telescope comes up multiple times throughout the film, but not in the same Bond-ian way as the devices in a Sartana movie. We'll come back to Hank.

Thanks to Hank's telescope the cinematography in this movie gets to have some fun with interesting set ups and angles. The whole opening sequence where Hank watches a bandit gang rob a stage coach of $100,000 adds interesting layers of voyeurism to an already often voyeuristic medium (ie. Your watching Hank, Hank's watching the bandits, the bandits are watching the stage coach). It's a theme continued in the film in which everyone seems to be watching everyone else, and the frequent anchor is an old man who watches the town's various happenings with mirrors he sticks out of windows in his apartment above the town. Unfortunately, for all the potential for intrigue, the plot's fairly by the numbers and none of the double crosses or dirty deals I hoped might heighten the stakes ever came through.

Now, the story moves along well enough and has some fun with the devices noted above. The unfortunate part is that though the genre wasn't that old, many of the genre devices feel a little tired, a little throwaway, and many get no more development then as a means to move the plot swiftly along. For instance, the fact that outlaw Gus Kennebeck killed Hank Fellows brother gets none of the coverage that most revenge plots or even subplots do. It gets mentioned three times in the movie, and sort of...offhand at that. Another is the relationship between Kennebeck and his brother, which has the looks of the "one brother chose good, the other bad" subplot, but again, it doesn't get looked into. On the flip side, Gus does have far more development as the antagonist than Hank does as the protagonist. Not only does Gus have at least some relationship with a brother, he also has a girlfriend in town, and an illegitimate son. Though he tends towards the bad to the bone characterization, he also has moments of tenderness, a fanatic devotion to his son, and a certain melancholy which render him more human.

Which brings us back to Hank. Hank Fellows is given almost no real character traits beyond his killer instincts and his lust for money. Spaghetti Heroes are often anti-heroes who are slaves to greed, lust, and violence, but many of them still have some moment with other characters or some personality trait that shows they still have a heart and maybe a dash of compassion. Clint Eastwood's Man With No Name, for instance, saves the peasent family from the lustful advances and cruel tyrrany of Ramon Rojo in A Fistful of Dollars though he gains nothing by it. Now slaughtering bad guys is every action hero's job, but that's all Hank does. The very telescope that makes him interesting at first later makes him invincible and somewhat uninteresting: He never seems to truly be in danger. Now, this makes him seem more like the 'avenging angel' or 'trickster god' protagonist of later spaghettis (ie. Sartana), but Hank also lacks the mysterious and ethereal quality of those characters. Finally, Craig Hill lacks the natural charisma to be an automatically empathetic character. As I witnessed in another Hill vehicle, I Want Him Dead (1968), he has a natural cold, steely-eyed psycho quality that makes him anything but endearing as a hero. In the end, it's the movie around Hank that keeps it interesting rather than the protagonist himself.

Oh....and it has George Wang in it as a Mexican bandit named Mingo. That's just weird. Although no more weird than Tatsuya Nakadai (one of my favorite Japanese actors) as a Mexican bandit in Today We Kill....Tomorrow We Die!. At least they let Mifune stay Japanese for Red Sun (1971).

Like I said though, I'm watching this through different eyes. In all, it was entertaining and fun, but not a great Spaghetti. Now, had I watched it first and then moved on to Day of Anger and Price of Power, I might have appreciated it more. I think that it's strange that though Valerii shot most of this movie on the same sets as For a Few Dollars More which he had assistant directed for Sergio Leone, he was still very much his own man. With those next two features, he developed and quickly into a solid director...which makes his mimicry of Leone in Nobody seem all the stranger in some ways.

In any event, this one probably isn't strong enough to have much appeal to those who aren't a part of Spaghetti fandom, but would be required viewing for those who are.

Cheers.

The Hard Way...Went Three
Had to come out of hiding for this one

I need a job. Seriously. Something I enjoy that...oh, I don't know...pays better than what I normally do.

The time off, however, has afforded me one luxury, and I've come here today to share it with you. Actually, it's been three or four luxuries, and I could probably talk about all of them. This one, though...this one was special. Extra special.

Three The Hard Way (1974, d. Gordon Parks Jr.)

The Story: A music producer teams up with a...well, I don't know what he was supposed to be...so let's try that again...Jim Brown (Jimmy, a record producer) teams up with Fred Williamson (Jagger Daniels, a guy with a name too cool to have any kind of job that I could tell) and Jim Kelly (Mister Keyes, a karate expert) to stop a white supremacist's plot to kill all the black people in the U.S. through a toxin he plans to spread in the water supply.

The Review: Hmmm, where to begin...This movie, on the whole was a very very mixed blessing. On one end, it was highly entertaining, occasionally riotously funny, and just an all around old school film version of total nonsense and total cool. Essentially, the same as every movie made in the last 3-4 years, and yet with an actual charm that I doubt any of these latter day action movies can match. On the other hand, for fans of the far, far, far superior work of Superfly, it's a letdown of colossal proportions from director Gordon Parks Jr (who sadly made only one other film before he died in a helicopter crash).

Someone who has done far more research into Blaxploitation or the work of Parks Jr. might be able to explain where this movie went south. Maybe it was budgetary limitations (the genre was definitely on a frequent waves of ups and downs in quality), perhaps it was the script (the story and action come in spurts between a lot of walking around and driving scenes), or maybe the filmmakers shot high and missed (the scope in terms of action and locales was huge by comparison to Superfly). Part of me wants to say that maybe alongside strong budgetary limitations, Parks wasn't ready to tackle a large scale action film as compared to his dad's studio backed effort Shaft's Big Score which balances action and story quite well. Then again, the action scenes in this movie are quite fluid, and there's some great camera movement to capture them. So maybe it was a bigger more mainstream story that he wasn't ready for.

What carries the movie for the most part is the cast. Like so many great action movie stars, Fred Williamson never has to do anything in a movie, but be Fred Williamson. Never without a cigar, Fred's got that perfect quality of looking like he could be at your backyard BBQ having a beer with the neighbors, and then in a flash mow down the army of ninjas that just came in to mess up the place. Sure it'd be nice to see him play a part...or play at least a slightly different part...but it really isn't necessary. As long as Fred delivers the cigar, the smirk, and the @$$ whoopin' then he's given you everything you need. Now, the camera isn't always as kind to Jim Brown. Oh, you never doubt that again he could kick everyone on screen's @$$ for looking at him funny, but sometimes he's just a few touches leaden and occasionally seems embarassed to be there. In this one, Jim Brown's cool and at ease, and only the audience must come out embarrassed during his long winded and frankly weird record producing scenes at the film's opening. So two out of three ain't bad.

My problem came with Jim Kelly. Don't ever get me wrong...ever: I love Jim Kelly. Every time I have ever sat down for some Enter the Dragon goodness, I literally choke down the rage that Jim Kelly is killed instead of John Saxon. It just never made sense to me: Jim Kelly can do the moves and is ultra-f!cking cool, and by comparison John Saxon looks like a stop motion animation doll could bust better moves. (Actually...don't take me wrong there...John Saxon and Michael Ironside both have that great A-No.1 prime grade sleazy creepy quality both as good guys and bad guys that I, for one, love.) My problem here is that apart from some of the best kung fu fighting noises ever to grace the silver screen, Jim Kelly gets about five lines in the whole movie. Now while this is an improvement over the Jim-Fred-Jim spaghetti western vehicle Take a Hard Ride where Kelly played a black Native American mute (You're guess is as good as mine), it's not enough. The man fought alongside Bruce Lee, he was Black Belt Jones...we'll forget the two Al Adamson movies...give him more respect! Then again, it's over thirty years later, the movie's in the can...and there's no going back. So suffice it to say, I wish this movie would have cut the opening Jim Brown Jim-ness, and way upped the amazing Jim-ness of Jim Kelly...The man who to this day still has the best on screen Afro imaginable.

As for the rest...hmm...well, the villains are pretty stock and fairly weak. It would've been better had they played down the oddball vaguely effeminate Monroe Feather (that's a villainous name?) and way upped the sleazy Dr. Fortrero. And yes, I must admit that this movie has one of the most ridiculous henchman bodycounts of any movie I've seen. Like the oft-pointed out death cattle known as Star Wars stormtroopers, these guys seem to line up and fall down. Apparently, Mr. Feather (I can't get past that name...Jiminy X-mas) pulled out the health benefits from his troops, because these boys all seem to need a trip to the optometrist based on their aim. Still, they serve the purpose they're there for: to get mowed down by our leading men. Likewise, the toxin that only kills black people that our villains plan to release could use a little more screen time. Now like most large scale destructive plot devices (and most supernatural plot devices), you usually have one of two choices: 1) Explain as little as possible and hope the audience takes it for granted that it exists, or 2) Explain the hell out of it, and hope the audience still buys it. In this case, they opted for the former, but they opted for it a little too much. Hell, I knew what I was watching so I took it for granted anyway, but for a general audience it needed a little more screen time or a little more description to give it any realistic tension.

Finally, I want the theme song. There's a soundtrack floating around out there, but it's pricey and it's of dubious origin. I've bought enough spaghetti western soundtracks of questionable repute to know that there's a line on how much to spend without a preview. Nonetheless, excellent theme song.

Well, once again, darn it, I've made it seem like there's nothing but negative things to say about this movie. Well, it's done out of love. The truth is I had a helluva good time watching Three the Hard Way even if it was a crappy DVD dub off of a VHS tape. While I don't think it's for everyone, those who love 70's action and Blaxploitation are very much in for a treat. Most action movies these days, even with twice the plot and three times the action, only wish that they were this cool.

Wacky...and Wackier...and Wackiest...
Japan hit me with a three fisted attack

Recently, I've been given the charge of creating a painting based on my knowledge of Japanese cinema. That's sort of all fine and dandy. In many ways, Japanese cinema's often meticulous sense of framing lends itself toward a painted medium. At the same time, however, they also feature a tendency to make strong use of the division between on- and off-screen space. That's not so good.

The only reason I mention it is that I needed some sort of explanation for why I've been pounding down all these Japanese films like so much quality beer.

On one end, it was quality research for a future piece of work. On the other, it was a wake up call to the fact that the Japanese cinema I lean toward...well, it tends to lean away from the traditional. Only a small percentage of that cinema that I've enjoyed didn't feature guns, swords, or giant monsters.

This painting is for a girl...albeit a cool girl...but not necessarily the kind that wants a painting of Gamera fighting Toshiro Mifune....

I know what you're thinking: "What?!? Is she crazy?!? She can't be that cool..."

Well take a look at what I've been watching.

The Wacky...

The Executioner (1974, d. Teruo Ishii)

The Story: A former police commissioner brings together a ninja, a hapkaido master pervert, and a disgrased cop turned hitman to stop a drug ring with diplomatic immunity.

The Review: I've seen more Sonny Chiba (our ninja) movies than...well, than most people I know. Like many early martial arts stars, his movies are always lacking one magical moments that could've made them great. In one, it's production values, in another it's strong story, in a third it's any form of coherency whatsoever. And yet, almost every one of them is still infinitely watchable because they deliver the one thing everyone wants: copious amounts of ass whoopin's. (The bonus with Sonny movies for our male friends is the occasional gratuitous amount fo T&A.)

For me it was the first two Street Fighter movies that provided the earliest for instance when all of the pieces came together for Sonny. The Executioner is a...well somewhat distant second. It's a ridiculous amount of fun. It's got some fine slapstick jokes. It's got the copious amounts of beatdowns. It's even got the gratuitous nudity. It doesn't however, always quite make sense. Most of this revolves around the Sakura character who does little more than leer at the former police commissioner's daughter. It's never quite clear what the point of having him in the team is...well, from a story point of view. From a movie point of view, it's quite clear: he's comic relief. The other somewhat distracting aspect is the constant recycling of the villains. One gentleman in particular is missing an ear, and no matter how they dress him up or disguise him...he's sort of hard to miss.

Still any movie that can somehow manage to bridge a gap between a scene where a character literally punches a guys eyeballs out of his head to a prison escape gag that involves a lot pepper-related sneezing has to at least be watchable. And this one was the least wacky of the three...in a sense...

The Wackier...

Atragon (1963, d. Ishiro Honda)

The Story: The Mu empire rises from the depths of the sea to take over the earth and a rogue Japanese Naval commander utilizes his new flying super sub to stop them.

The Review: I checked in a few months ago with a review of The Mysterians, also by Honda. Right off the bat, I'm going to tell you that while I liked Atragon better, it still had a lot of the same problems.

Of the Honda movies I've seen since I was about 10 years old, none seem to hold up as well as the original Godzilla (1954). The weird thing is that they all have a very similar story structure. Much like movies today, they can't seem to figure out how to balance the human stories with the monster/alien/marine life attack.

The opening for the movie was strong, and I was intrigued right away, and who wouldn't be when a mysterious steamy frogman crawls out of the ocean as a seemingly crazy taxi driver crashes himself and his kidnap victim into the ocean. Then almost too much time is spent trying to set up all the characters, but I still didn't end up feeling that much for them. By the time the super sub starts flying around and goes to lay the smackdown on the Mu's, it's a little late. And knowing the run time, I knew I wasn't going to get as much super sub action as I'd been hoping.

The highlight of course was the giant Chinese style dragon Magda, who also shows up too late, and is likewise vanquished too quickly. He is, however, one of the most hilarious show-stopping monsters I've ever seen.

The most disturbing aspect by far came at the finale. The original Godzilla was a wonderful tale of warning about the dangers of scientific hubris and our unrepenetant destruction of the environment. This movie plays with some of the same themes, but has no problem with the genocide of the Mu people. When the queen of the Mu sacrifices herself by swimming to the explosions of the Mu fortress, it didn't feel as victorious as tragic. Sure they were destructive killers of the surface dwellers, but it didn't seem to justify wiping them from the universe.

Altogether, fairly fun...much wackier (c'mon, it's a flying submarine with a giant drill on the front end)...but altogether...disturbing.

The Wackiest...

Kageroza (1981, d. Seijun Suzuki)

The Story: (Anyone who's ever tried to summarize a Suzuki movie sympathizes with me...but from what I gather:) A playwright appears to be having an affair with the ghost of his benefactor's wife, as well as his benefactor's mistress. (I think.)

The Review: I love Seijun Suzuki. In fact, the less I understand about a Suzuki movie...the more I find I enjoy it. Sometimes it's just bits and pieces...in this case, it was nearly the entire movie! Yay!

I'm not sure how much I can review this movie in any conventional sense. I enjoyed the hell out of it, I'll tell you that much. The movie is slow, but don't let that fool you. For one thing, it's beautifully shot. Suzuki makes great use of framing his characters within architecture within the movie frame. Now a beautiful movie isn't always an exciting movie, but what sets Suzuki apart is his occasionally jarring jump cuts, his story oddities, and just the general air of surrealism that he can lay on nice and thick.

Like Bunuel or Lynch, Suzuki's strongest point in this surrealist film world is that even though you may not understand the proceedings you know that there is thought behind it. Certainly it made sense to him when he filmed it, and the idea meant enough to him that he did film it. It's not purely aesthetics though it is aesthetically charged.

This is most evident in the finale as a troupe of children act out a kabuki style version of the story we've witnessed thus far. It's at once horrifying and fascinating, and a strong reminder of how childish all our characters are in their bizarre love square.

Now some might take objection to my referring to it as wacky. If I'm offering this film up as high art, how can I possibly refer to it as wacky? Well, while Suzuki has a serious touch, his film is not without a sense of humor. Some reviewers even seem to consider it a sort of parody of Japanese ghost stories. To me this would make it a parody within a story, and the final kabuki play as a sort of parody of the story within the parody within a story (whoa...). I've never found Suzuki to be merely clever. That doesn't mean that he isn't, just that I don't think he's nodding and winking at me the whole time. Still, it's got a dash of the absurd...and should you see the film...I think you'll agree...it's pretty wacky.

That about covers my deluge of Japanese cinema (after a three month hiatus from spending some time here)...and concludes some of my painting research. Haha. I bet you can only imagine what kind of painting might be made out of these three films...don't worry...I've gathered together imagery from at least two or three more.

Cheers.

His Web Fans call him...LVC
The Grande Finale as promised...

Despite the Dean Martin interruption (I've now seen all four Matt Helm movies...but haven't decided whether to review them yet), I managed to return my focus to the other two Lee Van Cleef spaghettis that I had intially wanted to review all at once with the two Sabata movies. Two things happened: 1) I didn't have time to watch the other two movies before writing my review, and 2) I realized it was gonna be one mammoth movie review. The whole thing begged for a two parter, and now it has one.

Ain't life grand?

Let's get started.

Beyond the Law (aka. Al di là della legge, 1968, d. Giorgi Stegani)

The Story: A drifting thief strikes up a friendship with a mining company worker he robbed which lands him the job of sheriff in order to protect the town from a team of outlaws.

The Review: Hmm. I'm not sure how much time I can devote to this one.

First of all, it's not a bad film. Lee Van Cleef was of course in fine form, and this one provided him an opportunity to actually play up his fun side. Like The Stranger and The Gunfighter, Van Cleef doesn't have to have the badass quotient cranked up the whole time, so he springs that wry grin in humor rather than as a warning. Antonio Sabato provides a good hearted optimistic foil, and Lionel Stander has a lot of fun as the completely corrupt "preacher." Gordon Mitchell, of course, overdoes it on the bad guy side, but then that's part of what makes Gordon Mitchell fun to watch (although not nearly as fun as the split personality outlaw he played in Django and Sartana...Showdown in the West.) So the fault wasn't with the cast.

The movie was shot fairly well. The pacing was fairly swift, and the plot had a few good turns. So that wasn't it.

I think it was just that there was nothing really stand out about it. Honestly, I think that's kind of unfortunate. Let's face it: Everyone remembers great movies, and we all remember really bad movies. Then there are those cable movies...the ones that aren't great movies...but they have enough charisma or something going for them that you'd still watch them again. This one had some of that, such as Stander's performance. Overall though, it was just a solid decent effort. Somehow, I just feel that's not fair, because it wasn't bad.

Anyhow. You could spend an hour and a half on far far worse things.

Moving on to greener pastures...otherwise known as the B-side of the disk.

The Grand Duel (1972, d. Giancarlo Santi)

The Story: An ex-sheriff drags a young outlaw back to a town he ran from in order to settle who killed a corrupt patriarch.

The Review: Now, by comparison, this movie was far more gravy.

First of all, it's by the book Van Cleef, straight up bad ass (Think 'Angel Eyes' Setenza from GBU); however, this time his character is peppered with a little Sartana (I've covered him previously and will again!), a character much in vogue at the time. Sartana was an avenging angel of sorts who is always in the right place at the right time. Clayton (Van Cleef), though vastly more earthly than Sartana, holds all the cards based on information he does know, but much like Sartana he orchestrates how everything flows along until the final reveal. Even though he appears to be in danger, he's always ahead of every turn, thus never truly in danger. Maybe I just got a soft spot for characters like this but Van Cleef plays it so well.

Much of the rest of the film is stock spaghetti with the corrupt family of brothers who keep the town under a yoke of potential violence. Then of course, there's the wild young outlaw who has far too hot a head to clear his own name. In a somewhat different vein, there's a horde of bounty hunters who appear to only be interested in bringing the young outlaw to justice but who turn out to be part of the plot. Still (and you may think I'm an idiot for admitting this), I still got dragged in enough that I was trying to solve what was happening before it did. Now, of course, I figured it out, mere moments before the final reveal. (I think what it is is that I've seen so many movies and read so many stories that I start thinking "that's too obvious!") In any event, I actually really enjoyed the use of flashback in this movie, and then the final showdown truly is a Grand Duel. This was in no small part due to a combination of the cinematography, the editing, and a beautiful score.

This one, I imagine, I can watch a number of times. It has all the sweep and circumstance that the first film lacked. Despite the fact that it certainly has more flaws than the first film. For instance, when the Saxon brothers (the villains) murder all these peasant-like figures from the town, I didn't exactly feel that bad. Sure it was a horrific scene...but, I wasn't sure who they were. Somehow they were tied into our young outlaw hero, but I was never quite sure how. Yet, it wasn't enough to totally distract from the rest of the movie.

If anything was distracting, it was Adam Saxon of the villainous trio of Saxon brothers. Ah, Adam. He's merely another in a long line of crazed, depraved, pervert killers. Now, that little description I gave is usually interpreted as homosexual, and certainly that's what's implied. However, of the multitude of gay men I've dealt with, none of them have been THAT crazed, depraved, or psychotic...well, no more or less than most people...and NONE have been master gunslingers or master swordsmen. In this case it's a gunslinger, but I mention swordsmen because I've seen a plethora of villains like these in samurai films, swashbucklers, etc. He's distracting because he seems so odd, and I can't help but wonder how they came to arrive at that type of character. Well, I have a few literary and historical hints...but I don't have time to delve into them now. In any event, just like the completely fey representations of gay men on TV and in the movies, it would take you only a second to realize that this is no accurate representation...and certainly couldn't even be called a stereotype. (Hmmm, I never thought I'd be worried about generalizations in the opposite direction...I guess I can only hope that the cast of Cruising doesn't show up to prove me wrong about that level of depravity.)

In the end, all I can say is that this was the kind of movie that sucked me into Spaghetti Westerns in the first place. I'm always wary about how much I wildly recommend some of these movies. I know I'm not the only one with a love for them out there, but I'm always careful when trying to figure out if I'm being blinded by fan devotion. It's kinda like how all comic book dorks will see, often multiple times, any comic book movie no matter how piss-poor it is (Hey! I've seen you buying the Corman Fantastic Four movie...and I know a few of you still have the Dolph Lundgren rendition of The Punisher.) So, I'm not sure that I can say this was a great movie for those unfamiliar with the genre...but it has definitely made my list.

Cheers.

"Big O..? You're Sick!"
America's...ahem...answer to James Bond

Ok. We interrupt the crushing wait of the second Lee Van Cleef double feature review (...I watched one...but not the other yet...) to bring you a review of...well, something else.

I believe it was in my review of Temptress of a Thousand Faces or perhaps Angel with Iron Fists (Did I review that one?) that I may have mentioned my growing love for the James Bond knock-offs from around the world in the 60's. The funniest thing about them is that even the best with comparable budgets still fall far short of the mark. Was it Connery? Was it 'Cubby' Broccoli? Was it Fleming's source material?

Actually, I feel I have to answer that in a way before I go on. Part of it, I think was Connery. Few of the Bond knock-offs feature an actor with comparable charisma who can be taken seriously as an action star, a lover, and a wit. He had the looks, the style and the growl. Second, I think it was also producer Broccoli who was already a firmly established professional in Hollywood, and who showed an obvious love for the series which he worked on for 30 years. As for Fleming's source material, it's a tougher call. I've only read Goldfinger, but from what I understand, nearly every Bond movie was quite a departure from the source material; however, I believe it was the considerable amount of work and the imaginative nature of it that the filmmakers were able to create one of the most successful film franchises of all time.

The knock-offs however lack most of this...today's review on the other hand, seems like it could've made it there...or at least come a lot closer. But don't let that fool you, it's still a good watch.

The Silencers (1966, d. Phil Karlson)

The Story: Photographer/Playboy Matt Helm is called back into espionage action when a leader of the nefarious Big O plans release the poisonous fallout from an underground nuclear test.

The Review: Now without doing a pesky thing like...um...proper research, in some respects I can't tell if this is honestly mean to be a parody or not. Most of the reviews or mentions one finds of this flick on-line refers to it as a parody, but having seen it now I'm not entirely sure. In fact, in many respects, I think the tone of the film could be ascribed in part to the stuido and it's star.

Lemme make my argument.

In a similar fashion, James Coburn's Flint vehicles often get called parodies of the spy-flick genre, but I don't believe they were. I think it was a lack of control in the humor department. It was the desire to give into the Swingin' Sixties Beach Party movie vibe, and camp it up...just a little too much. For one thing, Coburn plays it straight, and there's no nodding or winking at the camera. Plus, it has all the usual elements of a Bond moive, only it would appear that everyone making the movie thought that the only way to beat Bond was to go farther with it. But, is over-the-top or more over-the-top a crime? Considering that none of the super-spy flicks, at least the early ones, ever had anything to do with real Cold War threats, the tone fits the total comic book nature of the beast. It just got turned up too high.

Hell, Marvel comic's superspy, Nick Fury, fought more Russians than any of his movie counterparts did.

Matt Helm, as envisioned by his creator Donald Hamilton, is a fairly dark character. He's a man of action, an antihero whose moral code makes him a valiant warrior but also a cold hearted killer. Now take a moment, read back over that description, and tell me honestly if Dean Martin is the first person that comes to mind. So if you cast Dino, can you keep the movie true to what it was supposed to be at least as far being an adaptation of the novel? (After all, though the Bond movies leave the source material, they still hold true in ways to tone and character.) The book version Matt Helm was a photographer, but the movie version Matt Helm...well, he has to be a Playboy-type photographer. (Maybe this movie should've been made by Russ Meyer...a marriage of form and function.) So is it spoof, or is it character vs. actor?

In any event, let's see what we've got left.

I'm gonna go ahead and confess that any movie whose primary concern is moving it's protagonist from one hot 60's babe to another while at the same time blowing things up that threaten truth, justice and the American way...well, it's my kind of movie. Note I said 60's babes. Andy Sidaris movies don't count. (Ok, Ok...I like those too...but for different reasons...actually similar reasons...in terms of cheese...) So in other words, this movie was a jackpot of sorts.

The story is fairly thin. There's a threat to the U.S. There is a big bad villainous consipiracy. Do you need to know more than that? What the movie has instead is banter...by the truckload. Dean Martin spends nearly the entire run of the movie spitting out one-liners that range from good laughs to the nearly painful. Now, you can't say the movie is a character study, because it's not exactly an in-depth study of Matt Helm, nor does it waste any time delving into anyone else. It's more like a movie of archetypes, characters we already sort of recognize so the filmmakers don't have to say more about them. We've covered Matt Helm, but Daliah Lavi is the dark femme fatale, and Stella Stevens is the ditzy sidekick.

Then there's Victor Buono, the main bad guy, who is referred to as Tung-Tze. I assume he was meant to be Asian (and if you see him, you'll know why I say "assume"). Now You Only Live Twice may have contained the silliest Asian make-up job on a white guy (turning Sean Connery "Japanese"), but Tung-Tze...hmm...well, it's not even fair to compare them. At least they were trying on Connery, on Buono they put some dark eye-liner and stopped. It's not even in the same ballpark. And though I've found Buono entertaining in other roles, his sort of shrill distinctly non-Asian accent was for the most part anything but threatening. That's not to say it was bad. It certainly fit in with the rest of the movie. It just wasn't terribly threatening...at all.

Which leads me to the funniest aspect of the movie: Do we care? Do we care that Lavi turns out to be the enemy agent, Cowboy? Do we care that Matt's going to be melted by what was perhaps the funniest early interpretation of a laser I've ever seen? Do we really care if the Big O detonates the missle freeing the underground fallout (is that an oxymoron?)? The answer is...well, no. Did that stop me from enjoying the hell out of this movie? Again, the answer is no. Was it a good movie? No. Was it enjoyable? Yes. Do you see where I'm going with this?

To be fair, maybe this movie is only as enjoyable as it is because of hindsight. Thirty years later and it's sort of funny to watch nearly every character light up a cigarette every five seconds. This particularly funny when looking at the efforts of anti-smoking lobbyists over the past few years when you don't have nearly the volume of smokers on screen. Nothing, however, nothing beats watching Dino and Stella having a drinking contest while driving! Driving! And we won't even get me started on the...well, I wouldn't call them mysognistic tones (Ok, there is the dress ripping scene)...or even chauvanistic tones exactly...but something says that your average feminist would not go in for Dino's almost constant carousing with all too willing female companions. But in this day and age, it sure is fun to watch!

Now, most importantly: Do I recommend it?

Hmmm, that's a matter of debate. If you're looking for Bond, you're going to be let down. And though Austin Powers was more obviously inspired by Matt Helm than Bond or Flint, you're not going to exactly find that kind of humor either. Certainly, if you were old enough to have seen the movie in it's initial release, you may or may not see what I find so funny and/or entertaining about it in the first place. You have to take it for what it is. It's a product of it's time, star, and studio in much the same way as say Indiana Jones (not that there's any comparing the two in terms of quality).

Basically, a good rule of thumb is: If you can enjoy Death Race 2000, Gamera Vs. Guiron, and Santa Clause Conquers the Martians then you can certainly enjoy The Silencers. I say that because I enjoy all of those movies.

Besides which, I'm halfway through Muderer's Row the 2nd Matt Helm adventure. So far it's been worth it for Ann-Margret (who I'm also working with currently) and a character I just refer to as 1/4 Destro. You can figure that out for yourself.

Cheers.

The Man With The Gunsight Eyes Comes to Kill!
...and no, I don't mean Col. Steve Austin...

I came across a site this morning that clenched the subject of this post. I don't recall the name of it off the top of my head, but it was a search engine for cemeteries. Type in a name, find your dead relatives, favorite passed musicians, and your dearly departed Hollywood stars. It's creepy....and all too familiar to the wacky world wide web. I should mention that you could leave flowers and messages for those on record. Now, I've lost a deeply loved sister and a close grandparent in my time on Earth, and I've only visited their graves maybe once since their passing. So...I'm not sure that online "bereavement" qualifies as healthy, much less sane.

Suddenly, a fella carrying around a 20-sided die doesn't seem all that dorky...well, until he starts talking about his +3 Fighting Strength Warrior with a +2 halberd...

Anyhow. Combine that with my double-header the last time around. I decided to expand to a four-for-all...then realized that I hadn't watched the other half of my quadruple header. Not knowing when I'll get around to it, we're back down to a two-fer. (I shall return with the other half.)

All of this because I was shown where a certain favorite axtor was buried in Forest Lawn Cemetery, in sunny southern California.

It's (gonna be) a Lee Van Cleef spectacular!

Sabata (aka. Ehi Amico...C'è Sabata, Hai Chiuso! 1969, d. Gianfranco Parolini)

The Story: Master Gunslinger Sabata enlists the help of a loudmouth homeless veteran and a high-flying mute Indian in his quest to unravel a plot by several pillars of a Western community to buy up land that the coming railroad will be built upon.

Return of Sabata (aka. È Tornato Sabata...Hai Chiuso un'Altra Volta 1971, d. Gianfranco Parolini)

The Story: Sabata sets up shop in a town whose benefactor for town improvement may actually be its greatest robber baron.

The Review: Let's just get two things out of the way right off the bat, shall we?

For one thing, I am very aware of the existence of Adios, Sabata (aka. Indio Black, 1971 d. G. Parolini) which stars Yul Brynner and much of the same cast as the other two films. I watched it at the same time as the other two. It came in a box set together. Two important details however made me decide to leave it out: 1) Like many spaghettis, it became a Sabata movie to cash in despite the obvious difference in leading men (which went vice versa in the The Magnificent Seven franchise), and 2) which is repetetive, but Yul Brynner (though very very cool) is not Lee Van Cleef.

The second thing, is that I'm still not entirley sure what the hell is with Aldo Canti who plays the crazy acrobat character in all three films. Well, not so much with him, as he was supposedly gunned down by mobsters in the early 80's. More along the lines of: What the hell is this acrobat doing bouncing around the screen in a spaghetti western? Thing is, this wasn't a phenomena limited to spaghettis. Having seen the bizarre trailers for any of a number of different Italian genre movies, I know that I've seen this weird spring board flipping around crap in several different genres. It's almost always the same with someone dropping from a height onto a well hidden trampoline and then flipping through the air to attack, to enter a building stealthily, etc. I just don't get it. It looks weird and...well, bad...like early bad wire work in martial arts movies. But where wires eventually worked, you can tell that this craze was never going to catch on.

Ok. Ok. I'll admit that it comes across cleverly in a couple of places, but it still looks illogical...and kinda dumb. It did, however, just needed to be stated up front. If anyone reading this watched these movies based on my recommendation, and I didn't mention that. I can imagine, that within 20 minutes of putting the disk in they would be saying something along the lines of "What the hell is this?" Now it's well over time to move on.

Now, if there's one signifier about many spaghettis, it is the frequent reuse of things that worked in other films or things that were cool. Gianfranco Parolini, the director of the Sabata films, also had a hand in creating another Spaghetti fave, Sartana (played by Gianni Garko...and once by George Hilton [yick!].). He only helmed the first film, but both Sartana and Sabata are sleuthing gunslingers who have a penchant for gadgets (and so do the villains). Now, I've reviewed a couple of Sartana films in these pages, and I have to say that Giuliano Carnimeo who made the rest of the Sartana films definitely created a more realized character with more ironed out mysteries. The difference between the two series though would be that while Sartana had better developed plots, Sabata has higher production values...well, the first one for sure. The one thing neither series failed on though was casting for the iconic leads.

Lee Van Cleef was quoted once as telling his mother that nothing could've been more fortunate than his being born with beady eyes. How true. Lee's hawk-like appearance goes a long way to establish his gentleman killer character. As this set of mysteries doesn't involve any forensic pathology, one needs a man whose sharp-pointed eyes seem to peel through the other characters giving him all the information he needs. Lee had this in spades. Van Cleef also telegraphs the confident strut of a man who knows he can kill you with a glance, who can take a casino for everything it's worth, and who can woo every lady in the room without a word. The only way to explain the importance of this is to see the film because you need exactly that character to suspend your disbelief when he repeatedly demonstrates a preternatural skill to be in the right place at the right time almost every time.

Now the rest of the cast in both films is largely filled by spaghetti regulars. Of standout note in both films is Ignazio Spalla who plays the big burly and surly loudmouth sidekick (a role often inhabited by Bud Spencer, or Mario Brega). Spalla has a natural charm and on screen charisma that keeps his over-the-top blustering fun instead of tedious. We won't cover Canti again, who sort of plays the sidekick to sidekick Spalla in both films. And if you've enjoyed seeing the actors who play the villains dying in nasty ways in other films...you'll enjoy them dying nasty deaths here as well. Though it is a detraction to the second film, that no one stands out particularly well as a villain as more time is spent digging out the shady plan than dealing with him directly until well over half way into the movie.

I can't get away from the character point without mentioning one of my personal genre favorites, William Berger, who plays Banjo in the first film. Banjo's is one of those great characters who walks that fine line between being on the side of good or the side of bad and you never can quite tell which way he'll turn. Now, in a genre populated almost exclusively by antiheroes, it definitely says something if you can stand out in such a role. Berger, whom I've loved in nearly every movie I've seen him in, plays it just right though he is obviously more a character of the 1960's than of the Wild West as the cynical musician lothario with a past. Unfortunately, though there is tension thick enough to cut with a knife between Van Cleef and Berger, Banjo is never quite developed enough to be one of the greats. This ends up being a letdown to the movie as a whole as the choices and plays Banjo makes spur the plot on more and more as the story moves along.

Parolini's direction is brisk and fun, and he keeps the action rolling along at a decent clip. What seems to fail him more than anything is the story, which in both films just seems to lack the right amount of development and in some cases coherency that would make them at least solid good movies if not great ones. In most ways, though the gunslinging detective of sorts comes off as fresh, many of the other elements are boilerplate, but like I said, not tied together well enough to be a totally solid genre effort. The reason I went at some lengths to go over the cast is that they keep the film engaging more than anything else. Van Cleef's banter, Spalla's bravado, and, in the first film, Banjo's moody strut make the effort well worth watching. The frequent, and often well staged gunfights, don't hurt either.

In all, the first film is superior to the second film in many ways, but both are very watchable. I'm not sure if these would win any fans to the genre who had seen no other examples, but they are definitely in a the upper half. I would actually recommend Garko's Sartana over Sabata, but I don't want that to detract from Van Cleef. After all, the decision to write this review came from a link to Lee Van Cleef's grave. If I could, I'd go back in time just to shake hands with him. I enjoy watching him work, and these movies are a good example of his skill and charisma. Unfortunately, too many of the important elements of good film making don't quite add up enough around him.

Cheers.

Hell Hath No Fury...
There's nothing I can say that would've prepared you for this one...

In an effort to keep things moving right along, today we're doing a two-fer.

I can't even think of an intro...other than I've found my alternate wold heaven...as in the reality I would choose outside of this one: the movie world of 60's/70's Japanese cinema. Now that's not because I'm some loser Asianophile. You know, the chunky dork who watches too much animé and talks about the code of the samurai and tries to know more about Asian culture than any Asian man or woman within 20 miles of him. I'm not that guy...from what you know of me here you may think I'm that guy...but I'm not that guy. I've just found that it's a movie world that every time I enter it, I find that I have a badass good time. It's sexy and stylish. It's violent and garish. It can be soft and hard. It doesn't matter if it's sword swinging samurai or gun toting gangsters...or any of other smaller genres...it's usually a pure hoot.

Actually, the same could be said for a lot of 60's American cinema...it's just that the Japanese is almost always...what's the word?...zanier? Sure. Zanier.

That having been said. Here's a couple that prove that you can have lots of sex AND violence while still telling a story.

Sex and Fury (1973, d. Norifumi Suzuki) & Female Yakuza Tale (1973, d. Teruo Ishii)

The Story (One): Pickpocket extraordinaire and gambler Ocho Inoshika seeks revenge against the criminals who killed her father who have now become powerful politicians.

The Story (Two): Ocho Inoshika returns to take down a murderous drug smuggling ring to pay back a debt of honor to a yakuza boss who saved her life.

The Review: Hmmm, I wonder if my synopsis are fair. Both of these movies' plots play out a touch more complicated than I've made them sound, but if you strip it down then the above is what you are left with. I'll try to explain without having to get into a play by play.

The first film features a whole political subplot with a crazed anarchist band and a pair of European spies along with a whole subplot of Ocho trying to rescue a young girl from being sold into prostitution all while trying to solve who killed her father. And the second had three different rival gangs, each of which has different goals and a strange murder/mistaken identity subplot. And like I said, they then sped along chockful of violence and nudity and sex and torture and what have you.

It was all about balance.

The problem is that most movies like this (and the Japanese have been guilty of this more than once (espicially if you watch enough animé) is that they almost fall into formula. What I mean is that it gets to the point where you can start timing things off. For instance, there's going to be a gunfight ever 5-6 minutes, a sex scene every 10, and so on. Another fine example of this kind of filmmaking would be a personal guilty favorite: Andy Sidaris. I'm sure I've mentioned him here before, but for those of you who missed out I'll repeat. If you've seen Savage Beach, Return to Savage Beach, Hard Ticket to Hawaii, or Do or Die, you know exactly what to expect and when. You could probably jot down the timing of the sex scenes and violence for one movie, then pop another one in, and without watching just fast forward to those same numbers and you'd have the same corresponding scenes. (Come to think of it...that's an experiment I oughtta try...)

I'm happy to say that though there is something noticeably familiar about the timing and delivery both of these movies keep chucking enough style and crazed concepts to keep you guessing. For instance, there are scenes with nudity in any of a thousand different movies, but how many of them are slow-mo choreographed bloodbaths in the snow with a naked woman hacking and slashing through two dozen assassins? I bet you could name all of them on one hand that lost a couple of fingers in an industrial accident.

But it's not all...pardon the expression...milk and honey.

Now I've looked up some reviews and opinions on these movies, as I do with most everything I review (assuming I can find anything), and the majority opinion out there is that Female Yakuza Tale is the better movie. Now both of them feature a naked Ocho fighting for her life against mulitple assassins. For whatever reason, which is hard to explain and justify, in the first film it didn't seem exploitave (or as exploitave) as it did in the second one. Of course, in the second film, the naked swordfight was the back drop for the opening credits! When you start with something like that, you can't let up. With little exception, the first move does a decent job of motivating its violence and nudity....the second one...well...

The first movie definitley takes itself both more seriously and stylishly. The second tries to have more fun, and takes on a more over-the-top comic book tone that verges on slapstick. This may betray a bias on my part since I have a strong feeling against the tongue-in-cheek tone most movies have today. It's not hard to see how or why something so maniacal could slide so fast into self-parody. The problem for me, once again, is what I refer to as post-Airplane syndrome. Airplane, for all its lunacy, works only because it's played completely straight. Take away the jokes and it's a top-to-bottom disaster movie. That's why it works. Most movies that followed in that vein, however, spend so much time acknowledging their stupidity that it isn't remotely funny anymore. Female Yakuza Tale isn't quite that ridiculous, but without the "we're taking this very seriously" tone...it just doesn't work for me. It's too self-consciously jokey...and as I mentioned before, exploitave.

As this is a family site...uh, yup...I don't want to go into graphic detail, but the movie uses a rather...um...well, somewhat different way, in a movie for smuggling drugs. I'll simply say, it ends up being an excuse for a bevy of young woment to get naked over and over and over again. Now, I imagine, in some respects, this could be titillating if it weren't for the now general knowledge that this and even more umcomfortable way of smuggling illegal goods are commonplace. Nevertheless, like I said, it becomes a sort of boring excuse to have naked girls on screen regularly. And just like anyone who has managed to watch a porno movie all the way through, like say an early entry like Deep Throat, the nudity for the sake of nudity loses it's novelty after a while and simply becomes sad.

So I choose Sex & Fury as the better of the two, but that's not to say it's flawless. I've always wondered why the caucasian actors in Asian films are always the absolutely worst actors in the universe. This one is no exception. Christine Lindberg (famous Swede from Thriller: A Cruel Picture (aka. They Call Her One Eye)) is passable, but her male counterpart is...well, I'm not sure you can call it acting. On the flip side, I'm not sure if that's because he wasn't an actor, or that he was directed to yell at the top of his lungs. In any event, he's terrible. So there's that, and the fact that Christine's love interest plot with the young handsome anarchist really goes nowhere except to add a sort of pretty soft side to the movie.

Wow, I feel like I've said a lot of negative things about these movies which wasn't how I meant to come across. I enjoyed both of them for the most part, but I definitely found the first to be more entertaining, stylish, and fun. Like I said, it's a splashy, colorful, intense world that I would long to be a part of. Well, only if it was like a restart version of life where everytime some beautiful naked girl with a sword hacked me to pieces I got to get up and do it all over again tomorrow.

Cheers.

That's Right...Giant..Effing...Rabbits...
Anyone think I couldn't help touching this one?

Ouch. I've been away too long...and there's too much material to cover.

So, I'm gonna start with the obvious choice.

Somewhere, someone in the DVD department at Warner Bros. is a total movie geek...or just a geek period, let's be fair...and somehow he/she talked his/her boss into getting one of the world's great turkeys on DVD. They had to have slipped it under the radar. Any executive at any studio that I've ever met would have never understood why anyone would ever want to see this movie again...but now that it's on DVD...they'll probably want to remake it.

If you know me, and you know movies...you know it's time for...no not Santa Claus Conquers the Martians (I've got too much Santa right now as it is)...no, it's time for:

Night of the Lepus (1972, d. William F. Claxton)

The Story: In an attempt to chemically alter the reproductive cycles of rabbits, which are destroying a Southwest town's ranches, a pair of research scientist end up creating a swarm of giant killer bunnies who must now be stopped.

The Review: Let's just start with the obvious: No matter what you do, you cannot film real rabbits in any way and not have them come off as cute and cuddly. Even jackrabbits, which are much larger, spindlier, and more bug-eyed than your garden variety rabbit is still anything but threatening. So to make a movie about giant killer rabbits, without your tounge so far in to your cheek that it's putting stretch marks on your face, is an excercise in...ummm...well, I'm not sure I even know what...but I guess futility is as good a start as any...but I don't know what else.

I do know that this movie is supposedly based on Russell Braddon's novel The Year of the Angry Rabbit. I say supposedly because from what I've found on the book (it's quite rare and pricey apparently), it's a political satire of sorts. The plot appears to be about a program to stop the devastation caused by the overpopulation of rabbits in Australia that results in the creation of a powerful chemical weapon that instead kills humans. In none of the scant info I can find have I seen the words "giant" or "killer" or any derivations there of co-joined with the word rabbit. So for those of you thinking that Hollywood only recently started making movies out of books in title only (think I, Robot)...well, it's been going on for at least 30 years now...

Ok, so let's turn to what the movie does deal with.

Well, there's a lot of stock footage of rabbit's being chased into giant nets in Australia...ah-ha, there's the tie in...oh, sorry...Then we cut to the American Southwest (where the stock footage will eventually continue) and rancher Cole Hillman asks college dean Elgin Clark (Star Trek's DeForest Kelley! Bones!) if any of the school's scientists can help. Soon Dr. and Mrs. Bennet are on the case and injecting rabbits with a mystery serum. In one of the most hilarious offscreen lines ever, their daughter exclaims something to the effect of "Not that one daddy, he's my favorite." This leads to her taking the test bunny with her and in the second most hilarious (and contrived sequence) her new friend, Hillman's son, lets the rabbit go...because he...umm...hates them? I think...something like that. A few screen minutes later and giant paws attack from offscreen, there's a lot of forced perspective, and we're hit with some of the most hilarious closeups of rabbits with fake blood on their faces looking...ummm...ferocious...I guess. (I know I keep using hilarious too many times, but if you've seen the movie, there just isn't any other word.)

I'm tempted to go through some of my favorite rabbit "attacks", but there just isn't any way to clearly get this across. Furthermore, the rather liberal use of stock footage, and the constant reuse of rabbit efx footage only ups the laughs. I can say that the Humane Society must not have been on set for this one because it gets pretty obvious that one or two of our furry friends met with a messy demise on one of many miniaturized sets.

The one sequence I'll describe that I loved was the first attempt to destroy the giant rabbits. Believe it or not, I'm not enamored with the first wonderful reveals of the furry giants, though they are priceless. It's something else going on in the scene. Now, maybe I've just been too drenched in the postmodern self-conscious schtick that is the modern horror movie (has anyone seen the trailer for Slither which boasts about it's originality and yet looks suspiciously like Night of the Creeps with CG to me?), but all through this sequence I kept watching DeForest Kelley keep hanging his head over the giant rabbit hole just waiting for him to get it. They kept showing this rabbit hole POV shot with DeForest craning over...and you could hear the sounds of giant rabbits...and you could just feel it coming...but then nothing...well, someone else gets attacked but not DeForest. I knew what I thought was supposed to happen, but it just didn't. I mean, the movie had me at the phrase "Giant Killer Rabbit", but that scene...well, I think I fell in love.

And for the rest, well there's not much to say. Each of the actors, old school B-movie celebs every one, sold the show as they fought the floppy eared killer with grim earnest on their face. Today, they'd all be nodding and winking at the camera, hence ruining the experience while thinking they are making it more fun. Thank God for them. The movie was shot in a fairly standard fashion when giant rabbits weren't to be seen, but actually pulled off some very creative composite shots. Some of the sound effects in this movie were drop dead funny all by themselves. Director Williman Claxton was a veteran of western, particularly TV, having steered quite a few episodes of "Bonanza" which begs the question of how he ended up behind the camera of this one? However, he does a more than competent job with the material he had to work with.

In conclusion, the best thing about this film has to be the ponderables. The tagline on the DVD box, instead of "How many eyes does horror have? How many times will terror strike? ", should probably read "What were any of them thinking?" I wish this no frills DVD said more about how this movie got made. Was it all done in good fun, or was everyone taking it as seriously as it seems? I have to imagine that at the first dailies that featured the killer bunnies people were either giggling, or thinking stonily "My God, what is this?", or both. In the end though, it did get made, and it played in theaters. Now it made it to DVD. The worst part in some ways is that we'll never see a movie like this again because the people who made great movies like Black Knight and the upcoming Snakes on a Plane would look at the script and think "This is stupid."

Then again...Snakes on a Plane...maybe there is hope.