Thursday, January 8, 2015

5 Underrated Movies




The Last Mimzy

I remember seeing the poster for this movie on the side of a bus stop and wondering: “What the heck is a Mimzy?”  So when it came out on DVD at the video store I worked at, I watched it with no small amount of curiousity.  If you haven’t read the book and don’t know what a Mimzy is either, don't worry.  The beauty of the story, the charming characters and the tantalizing mystery will captivate you regardless.  “The Last Mimzy” is a precious rarity in children’s films; a wondrous sci-fi/fantasy story firmly rooted in reality.  Though it begins in the familiar mundanity of suburbia, it slowly and subtly builds to involve the fate of the human race.


Two siblings, Noah and Emma, find a mysterious box in the surf near their Seattle home.  Once opened, the box reveals an odd assortment of seemingly plain objects; a half dozen rocks, a shard of green crystal, a blue globule, and a stuffed bunny rabbit.  Emma takes the bunny and both she and Noah puzzle over the rest.  As they discover that these objects contain great powers, the children also begin to display powers of their own.  Noah suddenly develops genius-level scholastic skills, and Emma talks to Mimzy telepathically.  Thankfully, these powers develop slowly, so that we stay grounded with the characters.


At its heart, “The Last Mimzy” is an excellent family drama, in large part because the children act like real children.  Noah and Emma are neither shrill, ignorant brats nor are they snotty, mini-adult know-it-alls.  Their parents are also surprisingly well-rounded and decent people, both of whom care for their kids instead of viewing them as annoyances.  When Noah accidentally fuses two of the strange objects together, the power surge knocks out Seattle's entire electrical grid.  Homeland Security is watching, and the whole family is whisked away to a secure facility where the mysterious objects are studied by scientists.  However, the children must escape back home as time is running out on their crucial mission.


I’ve been intentionally vague about certain details because I could not bear to spoil the many wonderful surprises that are revealed.  What is even more thrilling is the message that this film brings: hope.  The ending is a blissful, exultant and restorative affirmation of the potential for good in all of us and what we can achieve if we can finally work together for the common good of all life on Earth.  It’s easy to be cynical, but the more challenging path of altruism is one we should all aspire to tread because of the countless generations to come which will benefit.


Grandma’s Boy

Ok, now we’re going to totally switch gears!  I’ve not cared much for the vast majority of Adam Sandler’s career.  The humor of the boorish man-child is lost on me.  I rarely find immaturity to be very funny and the celebration of such willful mental stagnation is repulsive.  So it’s fair to say that I had zero expectations for “Grandma’s Boy” knowing that it was made by Sandler’s production company.  The title certainly doesn’t inspire thoughts of witty wordplay or appealing characters.  However, after I was done laughing my ass off from beginning to end, my surprise gave way to wonder and finally awe.


Yes, I was awed by an Adam Sandler movie!  Technically, he had nothing to do with the making of the film as he was only on the set the first day.  But, his money made it possible, and for that I’m very grateful.  The film begins in typical Sandler style: two grown men behaving like teenagers, doing bong hits and playing video games.  However, as the scene plays out, you begin to notice that the dialogue is really good, WAY better than what you’d expect for this kind of movie.  Almost every line is quotable and funny as hell.  Allen Covert (who also co-wrote the screenplay) stars as Alex, a veteran game tester for Brainasium.  He’s so good at his job that he’s begun writing his own game on the side, and this secret project is what moves the tiny bit of plot.


The vast majority of the film is astutely given over to examining the quirks and peccadilloes of a rogue’s gallery of misfits that one might imagine make up the staff of many video game companies.  J.P., the boy wunderkind game designer and genius, is such a social maladroit that he cannot even make friends among his fellow freaks.  His extreme awkwardness is only magnified by the appearance of Samantha, a new Project Manager played by the brainy and beautiful Linda Cardellini.  J.P. and Alex vie for Samantha’s attention, but J.P. has been isolated too long.  He hasn’t got a chance.  J.P.’s insecurities and jealousy compel him to steal Alex's game and claim it as his own.


The writing makes the film work, which is a damn good thing because the movie is SUPER dumb.  However, it knows what it is and doesn't try to be more.  The supporting cast is great, and features many familiar faces at the beginning of their comedy careers, but even such talent cannot win the day without the words.  The countless acerbic zingers that whiz by like arrows on a battlefield are perfect examples of how even low-brow comedies must be built on a smart foundation if they aren’t going to fall apart after ten minutes.  “Grandma’s Boy” is by turns moronic, filthy, adorable and Zen.  "Let’s swim with the dolphins, Mr. Cheezle!"


Gattaca

Andrew Niccol’s later career contained more misses than hits, but the first film he wrote and directed is one of the best examples of social science fiction that I’ve ever seen.  Set in the “not too distant future”, eugenics technology now allows humans to ensure that their children are as genetically perfect as possible before they are even born.  This biological purity quickly becomes the new yardstick, and society is divided into the “Valid” and “Invalid.”  Your family name, your race or your education cease to be pertinent factors in your destiny.  Your DNA signature becomes the key to opening the doors that you desire.  Your blood is tested constantly, and those whose helix's are not filtered fall to the bottom of the social ladder, consigned forever to clean glass through which they will never see the world.


Ethan Hawke plays Vincent, an “Invalid” who has dreamed of spaceflight from infancy.  Yet his parents trusted in God to make their son instead of the local geneticist, and so Vincent is doomed to only glimpse the stars from the ground.  However, life is not as easy at it seems for all "Valids."  Great genes are not a guarantee of success.  Such ephemeral human qualities as ambition are still beyond replication, and even the most consciously constructed genius can still fall short.  When they do, their genetic identity can be sold on a thriving black market, and Vincent uses this to his advantage in the hopes of finally breaking his Earthly bonds.


“Gattaca” comprises several genres aside from science fiction.  It is a romance, a detective story, and a tragic fraternal tale of two brothers torn asunder.  Through his black market connections and a painful amount of surgical subterfuge, Vincent is able to gain entry to Gattaca, the premier spaceflight training facility.  However, a sudden murder begins an investigation that threatens to reveal his deceit.  Vincent’s "Valid" brother, Anton, whom he has not seen in years, is part of the team working to solve the murder.  Yet, when Anton discovers that Vincent is an employee of Gattaca, instead of turning him in, Anton tries to convince Vincent to leave voluntarily because he doesn't belong.  Even Vincent's own brother doesn't believe that he has what it takes.


Gattaca’s tagline, “There is no gene for the human spirit”, beautifully evokes the contrast between those who accept their limitations and those who strive to overcome them.  Anton may have been engineered to succeed, but instead of pursuing achievement he has become seduced by the idea of exclusion.  Vincent was hurled into the world faults and all, but is relentless in his drive to exceed his predefined bounds.  A childhood game of chicken between the brothers becomes the final test of Vincent’s unswerving dedication, and “Gattaca” presents the soul-stirring argument that what you are made of is not all that you are.  What you dream and hope and believe is also an integral, if not more important part of what it means to be human.


The Emperor’s New Groove

Tom Jones is the reason I am writing this review.  If he hadn’t sung the title song for this little-discussed Disney entry, I would not have had the distinct pleasure of laughing myself silly at one of the smarter, hipper Mouse House movies in the entire canon.  “The Emperor’s New Groove” was not an internal production, and I think that this is why the script feels so fresh, zany and exciting.  While celebrity voices in animation are often distracting because they're too distinct, John Goodman and David Spade are excellent choices for the main characters, Pasha and Kuzco.  Eartha Kitt brings a saucy, husky glower to the villainess Yzma, while Patrick Warburton almost steals the entire movie as Yzma’s brainless but lovable henchman, Kronk.


David Spade voices Kuzco, a spoiled rotten stripling of an Emperor determined to build a summer vacation palace on a hillside already occupied by Pasha and his family.  Spade's sneering adolescent narcissism perfectly mirrors Kuzco's vanity, while Pasha is the epitome of the earthy rustic farmer, and is given more veracity by the sonorous rumblings of John Goodman.  Pasha is incredulous that Kuzco doesn’t care about displacing his family and village, and Kuzco doesn’t care to explain.  He’s the Emperor, buh-bye!


However, Yzma also cannot stand the brat prince, and with Kronk’s bumbling assistance, Yzma plots to kill Kuzco and take his throne for herself.  Of course, plans go awry, and instead of killing Kuzco, Yzma’s magic potion turns him into a llama! Kuzco and Pasha find themselves stranded deep in the jungle, and their journey back to the palace forces Kuzco to begin thinking about things other than his own selfish needs.


“The Emperor’s New Groove” is a delight from start to finish, due in large part to the presence of a very elusive essence: comic atmosphere.  While most children’s films suffer from a frantic pace that often feels forced, this film is clearly influenced by the barely contained exuberance of Looney Tunes.  Creative joy bursts from nearly every frame, and the sense of frivolity is infectious.


The characters play brilliantly against each other, and the visual design is simple yet very striking.  There is also a lot for adults to appreciate, especially references to such films as “Starship Troopers” and the original version of “The Fly!”  The stellar scene involving the squirrel with the balloon animals had me rolling on the floor, breathless with laughter because I recognized that someone in the animation department was fan of Steve Martin in his stand up years!


Equilibrium

When this film came out on DVD, it looked to me like an overt and clumsy attempt to ride on the coattails of “The Matrix.”  Yet after I saw it, I earnestly wished that Christian Bale had been cast as Neo, because his performance in this film had all of the sombre gravitas that Keanu Reeves just cannot seem to conjure.  Of course, we didn’t know yet that the following Matrix films would be crushed under the weight of their own arrogance, so it’s better this way.  While “Equilibrium” has just as many plot holes as the Matrix trilogy, it is so entertaining that it doesn't matter.


After World War III devastates the Earth, humankind decides to outlaw emotion as a way of preventing further conflict.  Almost everyone voluntarily tranquilizes themselves, and specially trained enforcers called Grammaton Clerics who employ the martial art of gun kata strive to eliminate the few remaining factions that still wish to feel.  All art; books, music, and painting are being systematically destroyed.  Christian Bale plays John Preston, one of the best Clerics, who even allowed his own wife to be convicted and put to death for “sense offense.”  However, emotions have a way of hibernating, and even Preston is unaware of what sleeps beneath his conscious state.


The story begins when John Preston’s partner in enforcement, Cleric Errol Partridge, keeps a book of poems after a raid, and Preston is forced to execute Errol for reading the poems instead of turning in the book.  This ignites a chain of events that leads Preston to rediscover his emotional soul.  He tries to continue with his Cleric duties, but Preston's heart, starved for emotion, cannot be assuaged.  He begins skipping his daily dose.  Preston’s new Cleric partner, Brandt, played by the suave and wily Taye Diggs, watches Preston like a hawk, waiting for the cracks to show.  When Preston is recruited to infiltrate the Underground resistance as a sympathizer, he risks revealing too much of his internal struggle.


What makes “Equilibrium” so engrossing is that this very strong emotional undercurrent builds slowly to a final paroxysm of kinetic release within some of the better choreographed and staged action scenes I’ve seen in an American film.  Each fight has a distinct feel and is shot so that you can easily follow what’s happening.  This was a great relief to me, as most modern shoot-em-ups have become so incomprehensible that you just stop caring.  “Equilibrium” does not make that mistake.  The action is superlative, and is further enhanced by how much we care about John Preston’s desire to finally allow his heart to beat again. 

Sunday, November 9, 2014

Milton Bradley electronic "Star Bird" review







A blast from my past

How many toys do you still recall from your childhood with an enduring surge of pleasure?  I have a few, and Milton Bradley’s Star Bird is one of the biggest nostalgic stars in my galactic pantheon.  Released in 1979, just two years after the explosion of Star Wars onto the world pop culture stage, The Star Bird clearly drew much inspiration from this budding franchise, in particular the notion of getting mom & dad to open their wallets to quell the clamoring of their shrieking spawn for the latest and greatest science fiction toy to hit the shelves!


The Star Bird was designed by Bing McCoy (what an awesome real name for a toy designer!) who also created another hallowed favorite of mine, Rom the Space Knight.

There are several homages to two of the most enduring popular sci-fi franchises.  The shape of the cockpit seems a brother to the Y-Wing from "Star Wars."



The rest of the ship bears a strong resemblance to the classic Star Trek D7 Klingon battle cruiser with the neck and body rotated 180 degrees.




There is also the rear turret, which is so artoo-ish I hear beeps and bloops in my head whenever I see it!






Despite these familiar styles from familiar spaces, the Star Bird still manages to look unique.

Toy electronics were at their inception, but the Star Bird has some snazzy features.  After inserting a 9V battery, you can create a steady engine hum once you turn on the circuit.  Then, depending on whether the ship is pointed up or down, a ball bearing switch makes the engine hum rise or drop.


 A large button behind the cockpit causes the LED’s in the front of the nose flash.  Loud  laser sounds also erupt from underneath the cockpit out of a speaker that’s two inches in diameter!  Rudimentary features by today’s standards, but back then they were the bee’s knees!


Aside from the electronic lights & sounds, the Star Bird also has some really nice modular play features.  The two dark gray Interceptors on the wing tips can be removed and the turret ball doubles as an escape pod.  The best part is that the cockpit and engine can be removed and coupled together to form the Star Bird Fighter.  If you remove the front hull, then you have the Star Bird Power Orbiter.  I love how back then just a sticker could suggest that there was an interior!


The sticker on mine has dried out and fallen off, so I'm using this picture from an Ebay auction.

There were three other toys that followed which I hope to some day obtain.


 First there was the Star Bird Avenger, which initially appears to be the Star Bird with a different set of stickers.  They are pretty cool, and I love the new cockpit decal that is clearly a tribute to the Firebird logo that graced the hood of many a Pontiac Trans Am!


The surprise hiding inside the Avenger was infrared electronics!  Far out!  You could actually shoot a target and score a hit.  If your neighbor had an Avenger, you could have battles and a direct hit would actually cause your opponent’s engine to fail!  Way rad!




In addition to pitching Avengers against each other, you could also take on the Star Bird Intruder.  This smaller ship is basically the Star Bird cockpit with a small rear wing assembly and a pistol grip underneath.  This pistol grip activated the electronics, which were also infrared!


Good guys and bad guys duking it out!  Fazoom!  Like the Avenger, the Intruder also came with a reflective target to let you practice your aiming skills.


The final toy is not another ship, but a Command Base!   Wicked!  It’s also wickedly difficult to find complete and in good condition.  I would also be concerned about whether all the laminated paper would keep its shape or start to curl up at the edges.


Regardless, the Command Base has a lot of features, the most interesting being actual human figures that finally establish the scale of the ships.  If you plan to purchase one, better start saving your money now.  Childhood nostalgia doesn’t come cheap!


"The Day of The Triffids" review



This one will grow on you

I have loved nature documentaries since I was a child, and I eagerly devoured every one I could find.  But of all the different programs, my personal favorite has always been the string of superlative shows produced for the BBC and hosted by David Attenborough.  His enthusiasm is infectious, his naturalist knowledge is vast and this exhilarating combination makes every Attenborough documentary a full spectrum delight.



 “The Private Life of Plants”, which aired in 1995, is a visual marvel of time-lapse photography, and it also contains a fascinating examination of the mind-boggling variety of carnivorous plants that abound in every corner of our tiny blue planet.  Attenborough’s films have made it possible for audiences to vicariously travel to countless remote and forbidding places and goggle at the exotic sights that lay hidden in the foliage.


Theatrical science fiction cinema also offers similar journeys of astonishment, albeit ones typically focused less on the wonder of discovery and more on the dread of annihilation.  What makes the 1963 British film “The Day of the Triffids” so distinctive is that instead of flying saucers filled with bipedal, bug-eyed aliens armed with claws and laser guns, this time the murderous invaders are tri-stalked plants with flower-like heads that spit venom and grasping vines which entangle their victims.   



The Triffids arrive as spores via a spectacular meteor shower which the whole world watches to their lasting doom.  The exploding asteroids turn the night sky into a galactic fireworks display, but the next morning everyone wakes up to discover that they’ve been permanently blinded.  The seedling Triffids quickly grow, uproot themselves and begin roaming an urban landscape filled with easy prey.


While the special effects, story and characterizations in “The Day of The Triffids” may seem a bit dodgy by modern standards, the film has a special aura of creepiness due to the fact that the mortal threat from beyond the stars has an Earthly correlation.  Most people know that there are plants in the world that are carnivorous, the Venus Fly Trap being the most familiar for its lures that resemble red, gaping maws.



The ingenious methods that meat-eating plants have developed to attract and capture their prey is amazing and “The Day of The Triffids” becomes more than a little disturbing when one realizes that the scenario is far more realistic and plausible than most science fiction.  Thankfully, no plant has yet evolved that could capture, kill and digest a human being.  Not yet!


If you happen to be a botanophobe, then “The Day of The Triffids” may be for you what “The Exorcist” was for Catholics!


I would strongly recommend the Cheezy Flicks Entertainment DVD.  While it is not restored or remastered (crime!!), this disc at least offers a widescreen version of the film along with some delightful vintage trailers from the sixties!

Saturday, September 13, 2014

What happened to Lambert?




Like many moviegoers in 1979, I was not prepared for “Alien.”  The film relentlessly burrowed into my brain the same way the titular creature stalked and killed the ill-fated crew of the Nostromo.  I had nightmares for years.  I drew the alien compulsively in an attempt to define its features and therefore reduce my paralyzing fear.  It helped a little.  Though the slavering star beast rarely haunts my dreamscape anymore, any sight of it will always produce a brief yet electric thrill of terror as I instantly relive my first harrowing experience of watching this benchmark sci-fi fright fest in the forbidding darkness of the theater.


There are many things that make “Alien” an iconic film:  the excellent cast, the superlative set design, the quiet yet haunting score and the slow, inexorable build up of white-knuckle tension.  However, above all these great things is the work of Swiss surrealist Hans Rudi Geiger.  There can be no doubt that his artistic contributions resulted in the most distinctive and disgusting alien creatures ever to explode onto the cinema screen.  The deeply disturbing hybridization of biomechanical and sexual overtones in Geiger’s work achieves a level of instinctive repulsion as yet unmatched by any other science fiction monster.


The alien is an implacable force of death; but it is the creatures’ method of attack that incites such utter panic.  It rapes you.  It literally rapes your brain to death.  Both Brett and Parker are mercilessly skull f*cked by the fanged tongue which bears no small resemblance to a penis with a mouth full of metal teeth.  This terrible tongue erupts from a giant curved cranium that further embodies the phallic threat.  It’s a double dose of male aggression and forced penetration.  Worst of all, the alien appears to enjoy the effect that its appearance has on its victims.


The death of Lambert near the end of the film is the one that affects me the most.  She is one of only two females in the Nostromo crew, and from the very beginning she displays a pensive mood that suggests that she can feel the impending doom awaiting herself and her crewmates.  As they descend to a godforsaken planetoid to investigate a purported distress signal, Lambert is afraid. We can see it on her face.  We just don’t know yet how right she is to be frightened.  Lambert's subconscious is thinking what the audience is thinking:

“We’re all fucked.”


As the individual crew members fall prey to the extraterrestrial invader, Lambert’s rising terror renders her useless.  When the alien finally appears in front of her, it doesn’t attack her immediately as it did Dallas.  It rises slowly, as if knowing that by merely revealing its hideous majesty Lambert will be petrified into immobility.  It is only Parker’s vain attempt to save Lambert that the alien breaks off and kills Parker rather quickly before returning its attention to its initial victim.  Still unable to move, Lambert remains frozen in place as the alien slides its tail between her legs.  This is the last time we see Lambert alive.


Now I know that this shot of the alien’s tail was borrowed from the attack on Brett, but it has a particular significance here, especially when taking into account the implicit sexual aggression of the creature’s nature.  Lambert is the only female crew member that the alien kills, and it seems to take a unique approach to her demise.  What is most lasting about the horror is that we do not see how Lambert is undone.  We only hear hyperventilating, and then her final scream merges with a roar from the creature.  Alien orgasm, perhaps?


Lambert’s now naked feet swing freely above the floor while rivulets of blood trickle down and drop off her toes.  How did her shoes and socks come off?  How is she hanging from the ceiling?  Was she hung there by the alien or did her death throes lock her muscles into a post mortem grip?  Ripley’s reaction to seeing Lambert's corpse suggests a visceral revulsion that can only be expressed in quaking shudders and unintelligible gasps.  Ripley's brain cannot believe what her eyes are telling her, and she bolts like a rabbit from the hastily glimpsed carnage.


Part of the lasting allure and terrifying mystery of “Alien” is what we don't see.  The film knows exactly what to show us in order to scare us out of our minds.  More crucially, it knows what not to show.  Sometimes suggestion is more potent than the literal.  Sometimes all that's needed is to hint at the horror, and the mind unwillingly delves into psychological depths previously undared.  At the bottom, we are assaulted by the acknowledgement of the basest instincts of human nature.  We are confronted by our Id, and it wants to kill us.

Wednesday, September 3, 2014

Micro-fest of two emerging directors! "Mean Streets" and "Manhunter"



While house and cat sitting for my folks recently, my wife and I decided to treat ourselves to a couple of movies courtesy of their ample DVD collection.  My East Coast-born Sicilian girl had a yen to watch “Mean Streets” again, and also fancied revisiting “Manhunter.”  Suddenly we realized that we had constructed a double feature that was a micro-fest of two emerging directors.  “Mean Streets was Martin Scorcese’s second studio feature, and “Manhunter” was Michael Mann’s third.  Although rough around the edges, both films are excellent examples of each filmmaker’s nascent yet distinct style.


“Mean Streets” immediately establishes one of the foundations of Martin Scorcese’s visual storytelling.  The opening credit sequence is comprised of Super 8 footage of Little Italy in New York shotgun wed to the song “Be My Baby” by the Ronettes.  Phil Spector’s “Wall of Sound” and Martin Scorcese’s gutter of heartbreak starkly contrast the romantic fantasy of this classic early sixties love song against the gritty reality of modern city life.  This heady concoction creates a striking visual and audio contradiction that would become a Scorcese signature for many years.


Another distinct artistic piece is the long tracking shot which often follows one character or set of characters through an entire scene without any edits.  Several sequences in the neighborhood bar trail just in front of or behind Harvey Keitel’s character Charlie as he struts or staggers his way through the leering, blood-red atmosphere.  Charlie is torn between his gangster ambitions and his Catholic upbringing, and the slo-mo delirium in these shots beautifully yet repulsively evokes his emotional and spiritual conflict.


Though it is an early Scorcese film, “Mean Streets” boasts a terrific cast, with Robert De Niro erupting in a volcanic display of self-destructive narcissism as the compulsive gambler and perpetual loser Johnny Boy.  Charlie’s Catholicism has dug deep roots of guilt into his conscience, and Charlie feels compelled to save Johnny over and over even though both men are ultimately doomed by their flaws.  While some dialogue scenes feel rushed or incomplete, the vitality of the performances and the fresh yet rotten stench of the decaying urban milieu are no less captivating.


As the executive producer of “Miami Vice”, Michael Mann displayed a mastery at combining austere modern architecture, high contrast monochromatic lighting and a simple, throbbing synth soundtrack.  He established an iconic visual style that would make "Miami Vice" a major pop culture trendsetter for over a decade.  This moody but sleek style reigns heavily over “Manhunter”, and it perfectly suits the story of a former FBI profiler lured reluctantly back for one last job.  William Petersen is Will Graham, the man who caught Hannibal Lector, but was nearly gutted during the capture.  Beside the physical pain, Will is also wary of being psychologically compromised by once again adapting his consciousness to the maniac he is pursuing.


Few people knew that Jonathan Demme’s “Silence of the Lambs” was not the first film in which the character of Hannibal Lecter had haunted the cinema with his withering wit and scalpel-like stare.  For “Manhunter”, Michael Mann chose Brian Cox to play everyone’s favorite cunning cannibal, and his portrayal is just as terrifying as the indelible turn by Anthony Hopkins.  Hannibal never leaves the confines of his cell, but his calculating intelligence makes the possibility of escape seem a very real and immediate threat, and the implacable malice that Cox exudes lurks in the shadows of every scene.


Tom Noonan’s role as the current killer-on-the-loose Francis Dolarhyde is mesmerizing, and it is not just his towering physicality and the subtlety of his performance that leaves so potent an impression.  Despite his compulsion for serial murder, Dolarhyde’s character becomes surprisingly sympathetic when it is shown how heartbreakingly close he comes to living a normal life.  Dolarhyde asks a blind co-worker on a date, knowing she cannot see and judge him by his disfiguring harelip.  Yet the decades of self-imposed isolation have made Dolarhyde’s fantasy world too powerful to be subsumed so quickly.  Whether the victim is innocent or guilty, Dollarhyde’s demons must be fed.