tehck Reviews

Fort Worth (1951)

Confusing western juggles too many plots

[4/10 · 18 August 2022]

I found Fort Worth to be a very strange movie, one that ultimately doesn't work very well for me. The problem is that it takes about a half dozen classic western plots and mashes them all together in an awkward muddle. You've got the gunfighter who's trying to hang up his guns, the newspaper man who wants to help civilize a lawless town, the tycoon who's trying to cheat someone if not everyone out of their land, the lawman who's fighting a band of outlaws and rustlers, and the longtime friends who are vying for the same girl. Any one of these tropes would typically serve as the main plot for a movie, and a good movie might support two, but not even the characters can figure out how all of them work together in this one.

For example, Randolph Scott plays Ned Britt, who is passing through his old hometown of Fort Worth where he meets up with his old pal Blair Lunsford (David Brian). Their happy reunion starts to sour as Ned comes to believe that Lunsford is allowing a gang of rustlers to operate freely in order to lower land prices and drive out residents so Lundsford can buy up their land for next to nothing. For a good while, Ned can't decide if Lunsford is actually working with the rustlers, working against them, or just sitting by while they do his work for him. Rather than creating suspense or moving the plot forward, this situation just confuses the viewer as much as it does Ned. Worse, it's a red herring whose resolution changes nothing.

Equally confusing is Ned's attempt to give up his guns. His reasons have nothing to do with morality or principle. For Ned it's a practical matter. On the one hand, he's found that gunplay just brings more trouble, and for another he's found a much better and more effective weapon, the press. That brings us to another trope that is mangled by this movie -- the crusading journalist. Ned and his partner are looking for a place to start a newspaper. The partner, Ben Garvin (Emerson Treacy), actually does fit the stereotype of the crusty, principled newspaper man who is ready to tame a town. Unfortunately, Garvin appears only briefly and mainly serves to introduce an important plot point, that Lunsford is running a land-grab scheme. In fact, there's a couple of characters that are used that way. The other is one of the two significant female characters, a former love interest of Lunsford named Amy (Helena Carter) who appears in two quick scenes with the sole purpose of revealing that Lunsford is also a heel who is marrying a girl for her money.

As for the idea that Ned himself is actually a journalist, that is also little more than a plot device. Although Ned's hometown of Fort Worth certainly needs civilizing, he doesn't want to start a paper there because the town isn't big enough to provide enough subscribers for a successful paper. As a journalist, his main principle seems to be making money His idea of the role of the press is also a bit strange. He repeatedly refers to newspapers as a weapon and threatens more than once to "write {Lunsford) out of town." He never professes any other principle or motive for wanting to start a paper. He also never says or does anything that would suggest he could make a living with a pen.

Ned's relationship with gunplay is similarly confusing. Despite his claim to have given it up fpr good, it's no surprise when he is eventually forced to strap on his six shooters and summarily kill several outlaws. But what should signal a sea change in his character development is little more than fan service. The gun battle changes nothing for Ned. He just responded to the situation at hand in a practical way. His attitude and principles remain the same as they had been. There's no consequences, no introspection, and no regrets for Ned. He'll take the guns off or put them back on as needed.

Ned's relationship with women is equally strange. The other point in the love triangle with Ned and Lunsford is lady rancher Flora Talbot (Phyllis Thaxter). When we meet her she is engaged to Lunsford, and for most of the movie Ned does nothing to suggest that she is more than a friend to him. However, Flora spends the first half of the story ridiculing Ned for giving up his guns, openly questioning his manhood when he suggests he doesn't want to kill anyone. It's not until Ned is convinced that Lunsford is an opportunitic liar that Ned decides he is also romantically interested in Flora. At that point, he suggests he's always felt that way, but we've seen zero evidence of that before. Of course, the fact that both men are old enough to be Flora's father bothers no one. For her part, Flora decides she likes Ned too once he has returned to killing folks and Lunsford has become an outright villain.

For modern viewers, Randolph Scott is a little-known and vastly under-appreciated Western hero. Although he was mostly confined to B-movies with modest budgets and second-tier casts, his performances often elevated those stories to excellence. His best vehicles had simple, tried and true plots, often using one of the tropes mentioned here. Fort Worth is not one of those movies. It's a muddled mess that not even Randolph Scott can ride in to save.

Your Worst Nightmare: The Watcher (2014) Season 6, Episode 3

Lead actress waas great

[7 January 2022]

I once heard (or read) Jennifer Lawrence make a snide remark about actors in true crime dramas like this one. It instantly caught my attention and told me that Ms. Lawrence isn't the down-to earth-indie girl she pretends to be.

This episode is a perfect example of the hidden gems that can be found among the hard working men and women who appear in these re-enactments. The lead actress -- Hope Jordan -- is phenomenal in this. I didn't care that much for the story, which was even creepier than most, but I kept watching to see more of Ms. Jordan's performance. She was convincing, genuine, and willing to go way over the top to portray the desperation and terror of a victim of kidnapping and torture.

No, I have never met Ms. Jordan, nor do I have any connection to her, to this show, or even to the entertainment industry. Check my profile, and you will see I have been a member of this site for decades and have written a handful of reviews, good and bad, for movies that have caught my attention. I just took the time to review Ms. Jordan and her terrific portrayal. I appreciated it very much.

Shark Attack 3: Megalodon (2002 Video)

Stay right there, don't move!

[3/10 · 11 November 2019]

While it's difficult to find anything useful to add to the many insighful reviews of this "movie," there is at least one performance I think deserves special mention. Shark Attack 3: Megalodon offers one of the best examples of "method acting" I've ever seen. Leading man John Barrowman so immerses himself in his character that his single-minded approach dominates every scene. Unfortunately, the character he assumes for this movie was not that of Ben the glorified lifeguard who appears in the script, but the character of Tom Cruise playing Ben the lifeguard. In almost every shot, Barrowman can be seen ripping off a Cruise smile, a Cruise laugh, a Cruise pose, a Cruise expression, a Cruise anything he can get his hands on. And all this is completely independent of whatever Ben the Lifeguard is supposed to be doing in the scene other than being a Tom Cruise impersonator. I've seen some other actors attempt similar feats (Skeet Ulrich as Johnny Depp comes to mind), but none has taken on this particular role with such scrupulous dedication and total disregard of its effect on the actual movie.

Death in Paradise: Murder from Above (2018) Season 7, Episode 1

Dumber by the episode

[3/10 · 19 February 2018]

This show was unique, interesting, and funny in its first season, but it's been going slowly downhill ever since, and this episode is rock bottom so far. First of all, it is at least the third example of an identical plot structure. Newly installed DI Mooney responds to what appears to be a suicide in which anyone with a possible motive to murder the victim seems to have an airtight alibi. But Mooney suspects otherwise based on no real evidence whatsoever. But that is no more unlikely than the reaction of those closest to the victim, who immediately accept and vociferously defend the idea that a woman who was literally minutes away from walking down the aisle to her nuptials would instead throw herself off a balcony in front of the assembled guests. And this includes the man she was to marry, who has no trouble whatsoever believing that his fiance would rather be dead than spending her life with him.

Mooney's suspects -- all members of the would-be groom's family -- are a catalogue of stereotypes -- the driven career girl, the wastrel son, and the entitled, air-headed daughter. The plot is equally flimsy and predictable. With none of his staff sharing the DI's conviction (another redundant trope), Mooney continues his investigation despite repeated threats from the commissioner to pull rank and shut it down. But of course he never does and never would, as we viewers know all too well.

And then comes the ludicrous denoument. As per the show's long standing formula, Mooney has all his suspects gathered in one place so he can reveal to all of them (and us) who the killer is and how he knows (as always followng some trivial incidnet that inspires his epiphany). Never mind that no police investigation would ever conclude this way, but its result is a foregone conclusion for viewers who've seen more than one episode. All it takes for the nefarious villain(s) to surrender and confess is for Mooney to narrate the "real" events of the murder. No one seems to care that Mooney has not one iota of actual evidence to verify his story, but his logic is so dazzling and his assumptions so accurate that they can't help but immediately incriminate themselves for him.

Following a formula does not automatically condemn a detective series. Many excellent shows employ a similar approach. However, this show has some of the laziest and most insulting writing I've ever encountered. But as long as Josephine Jobert continues running around in those short-shorts, I'll probably keep watching.

Muscle Beach Party (1964)

Needed More Beach, Less Muscle

[4/10 · 24 December 2015]

I'm just a few years younger than the original intended audience for the Frankie and Annette movies, but I have always been amused by them. However, as others have said, this is easily the weakest of them all. The biggest problem is that it spends far too much time focused on peripheral characters and events that have nothing to do with the beach or even Frankie and the gang. Instead we get long stretches of Don Rickles and his crew of shirtless body builders just acting stupid. Evidently someone in charge either meant to pander to the gay audience (in 1964?) or thought that teen girls would be fascinated by all that oiled, tanned, rippling maleness. However, this element was mostly just weird.

Perhaps even weirder was the duo of Luciana Paluzzi and Buddy Hackett as a young, widowed Italian countess and her major domo, or whatever Hackett is supposed to be. There's nothing wrong with their performances when considered in isolation (indeed, it's perhaps the most restrained performance of Hackett's career). It's just that neither has any business in this movie. Besides, Lucianna's role as a sexual predator who is looking to recruit new boy toys seems really odd in a series that is mostly as chaste as driven snow. However, this movie had a number of more adult-themed moments, not least of which was Annette's extended session rubbing suntan oil on Frankie's back, which is far more sensuous than one might expect here, especially if you turn off the sound.

Probably the best example of everything wrong with this movie can be seen in the multiple scenes of dialogue between Hackett and Rickles. Here you had two of the most iconic stand-up comics of the era, both famous for their improvisational skills and well known for their particular individual schticks. Indeed, we might have expected these two to go to war, each trying to one-up the other with insults and outrageous energy. Instead, they stick to a dull, unimaginative script that made no effort to play to either man's strengths. Indeed, you could just as easily have put Fred McMurray and Vincent Price in those scenes with the same effect -- boring.

Of course, music is usually at the center of these films, and this one offered several numbers. But like everything else, they were flat (with the notable exception of 12 year-old Stevie Wonder's appearance). Annette sings one of the worst songs I've ever heard (although I could see her styling as the inspiration for David Lynch's favorite crooner Julie Cruz and her weird warblings), and Frankie later echoes it with only slightly better results. Then Dick Dale and The Del Tones appear, and Dale proves to be even more tone deaf than Funicello. The band was okay, but its eponymous front man was incredibly bad.

So, more bikinis, more surfers, and maybe even Eric Von Zipper would have vastly improved this entry in the venerable AIP series. Like the melody of Annette's song, the movie just wandered around without anything anchoring its center or guiding it in a coherent direction. For some reason, this one was just released on Blu-Ray. Hopefully Beach Blanket Bingo or Bikini Beach will also appear to remind viewers of how much fun this series could be.

Omnibus: Cream Farewell Concert (1969) Season 2, Episode 14

Hear greatness, see trash

[3/10 · 19 August 2014]

This film incorporates everything I hate about concert films and so-called "music video." Instead of a rare and valuable record of one of the most influential acts in the history of hard rock, we get a disjointed, fragmentary, and frankly idiotic set of moving images. During approximately a half hour of concert footage,only about one minute provides a view of what the musicians are actually doing. The rest alternates between extreme closeups of the musician's faces (mostly Jack Bruce), even more extreme closeups of Ginger Baker's hands (but not in a way that reveals his playing), and random shots of people in the crowd. Throw in some "psychedelic" effects, like rapidly jacking the zoom in and out (indeed "jacking" themselves is an apt description of what these filmmakers are doing), and you have one of the most egregious wastes of film and greatest missed opportunities in music history.

But what else could we expect? Even before this film, music video producers were adopting the elements that have come to define the genre's style (one song sequence from the Beatles movie "Help" contains almost every technique that has ever been used since). The overarching theme is that the camera -- and by extension the producer, director, or editor -- is the star of the show. To hell with the musicians. It's far too dull to just set up a static camera with a good viewpoint and let it capture the full performance and allow viewers to direct their attention to the parts of the action that most interests them. No, that doesn't require any talent or skill on the part of the filmmaker, and we must never forget that they are the real auteurs of the show.

And never, never, never expect them to have any knowledge of music in general or of a particular song in the program. Whatever is most musically important at a given moment -- a guitar solo, a drum fill, a crucial lyric -- they are almost certain to be focused elsewhere. And if their cameras should alight on a particular individual at a particular time, they will almost never stay there long enough to allow viewers to see a musically significant interval -- like a complete riff or full measure. It is never about the music but always about their idea of a compelling visual.

One of the worst things ever to happen to popular music was the advent of MTV and the jump-cut, effects-laden, camera-as-star style it institutionalized once and for all. But MTV did not invent that style but only guaranteed its ubiquity. No, there were pretentious, talentless nabobs who knew a "better way" to present stage performances long before. If you watch this abortion of a film, you'll see some of the nabobs in action. My apologies to Misters Bruce, Baker, and Clapton. Only a few thousand people were lucky enough to see you perform during your short career together as Cream, but I was not among them. When I first encountered this program in the early 1970s, I thought I 'd been granted a gift from God. I soon learned it was a cruel, devilish joke. I hope it's keeping its creators warm somewhere.

Framed (1975)

One helluva solid, severely underrated action/revenge drama

[8/10 · 14 May 2011]

I had seen Framed a couple of times back in the mid 1970s, and I remembered it as a solid drive-in revenge drama on a par with its companion piece, the original 'Walking Tall.' After just watching it again, I have to say I am stunned at how good it really is. It's well acted (the female lead, Conny Van Dyke is perhaps a little weak), tightly scripted with realistic dialog and believable action, and briskly paced. It contains a slew of potentially stock characters, including several corrupt police and political officials, a mafia boss and one of his henchmen, a single honest African-American policeman, and some Southern redneck hoodlums. Still, instead of appearing flat and contrived, they all manage to seem distinct, well-enough rounded, and logically consistent with their context in the story. The direction is totally professional but as straightforward and simple as the story it's telling. It's like the best TV movie you've ever seen with a moderate amount of profanity and a few scenes of ultra-realistic violence thrown in. Altogether, the effect is a kind of realism that can sometimes be mistaken as amateurish but will in fact stand up to some serious scrutiny. It may not have the glossy sheen of a big-budget Hollywood thriller, but Framed also avoids the plot holes, caricatures, and over the top stunts that weaken so many of them. That's not to say it lacks for action. There's plenty of mayhem and bloodshed and even an actual train wreck. And if you like to see the good and bad guys get what's coming to them, Framed will definitely deliver. In short, Framed is a damned good movie, and I highly recommend it to anyone who likes action flicks.

Vanishing Point (1971)

It was just cool

[6/10 · 19 March 2010]

When I was in high school back in 1971, my friends and I spent many of our Friday and Saturday nights at the drive-in theater, which is where and when I first saw Vanishing Point. We saw it once, and then we went to see it again a couple of weeks later and probably again when it came back the next year (as movies did at the drive-in). We weren't interested in probing its symbolism or considering how it reflected the tensions in American society or represented the quest for individual freedom. We just thought it was cool as hell, no doubt because we unconsciously responded to all its symbolic and ideological underpinnings, superficial and obvious as they may be. Back then, I had a fairly powerful emotional response to Vanishing Point but not so much now. I've seen it a couple of times in the last ten or twelve years, and I was much more aware of its weaknesses. I still enjoyed it, but its only real emotional or intellectual impact on me was one of nostalgia. However, I saw it again tonight in HD (March 2010), and the thing that really stood out was just how bad-ass that Challenger still looks. In the midst of all those other boxy, awkward, top-heavy early 70s American cars was this incredibly lithe and stylish vehicle that appears futuristic even today. Indeed, I think it looks better and more "modern" than the brand new retro-challenger currently in production. That beautiful muscle car and those all-natural naked hippie chicks have held up pretty damned well. Now if we could just bring back the drive-ins . . .

Beauty and the Beast (1976 TV Movie)

Me too

[8/10 · 1 May 2009]

Like so many others here, I saw this movie when it premiered and have been looking for it ever since. I'm not desperate or obsessed, but I have never forgotten this version and have always kept an eye out for it. I saw the 'classic' Cocteau version a few years later and found it wanting in comparison. Perhaps my memory has become rose colored, but I'd like to find out. I recall that Scott's makeup was very good, and his performance was what you would expect from one of the greatest actors of his generation. This was my introduction to Ms. Van Devere, whom I found charming, beautiful, and compelling as Belle. The story is, of course, well known, and this version follows the traditional line, but it is a beautiful rendition.

Rocky (1976)

The most overrated movie of all time

[3/10 · 22 November 2008]

I went to see this movie when it came out. I had never heard of Sylvester Stallone and had no expectations or preconceptions other than it was supposed to be a good depiction of boxing. I hated it when I walked out of the theater in 1976, and I hate it even more now. The film is one of sappiest pieces of melodramatic tripe I've ever seen. Every character is a stereotype, and every turn of its derivative, amateurish plot can be anticipated from 50 miles away. Now for the boxing -- a Popeye cartoon has more realistic action. It rivaled the most ludicrous exhibitions staged in professional wrestling matches, and any combatant who endured two minutes of the kind of pummeling depicted in the title fight would be brain dead. My contempt for this trash reached even greater depths when I watched it beat out three outstanding movies -- Network, Taxi Driver, and All the President's Men -- for the best picture Oscar (I've never seen Bound for Glory, but I have no doubt it was also a far better movie than this drivel). I can somewhat understand that a portion of the public would enjoy Rocky, but I can find no excuse for the voting of the Academy members. Shame on them for elevating this sorry excuse for a movie above such worthy contenders. It makes about as much sense as a punch-drunk bar-fighting buffoon landing a title fight with Muhammad Ali.

Childhood's End (1996)

Amateurish politically-correct drivel

[3/10 · 29 September 2007]

Borrowing techniques that would have been familiar to a theater patron in 19th-Century America, Elizabethan England, or Classical-Age Athens, Childhood's End is a very dramatic movie, and I mean that in the worst possible way. It uses static, fixed-camera shots to depict totally unbelievable characters enacting a hodgepodge of contrived scenarios. Its actors often seem to be wearing tragic masks as they stand or sit in place and recite lines that could only be emanating from a script. They declaim in soliloquies and dramatic monologues that offer endless exposition but rarely propel any action. When two characters actually trade dialog with one another in a conversation, they never seem to really engage each other. Instead, all roads lead to the dead end of political correctness, the worst thing to happen to Western Art since Homer kicked it off 3000 years ago

For example, at the center of the story is the Chute family. Greg, the teenage son is a photographic prodigy who is taking early graduation from high school so he can accept a job as the art director for a prestigious magazine. His older sister, Chloe, is a competitive skater who is just breaking into the world of modeling. Mom and Dad are open-minded, non-judgmental and completely supportive of their children and of each other's needs. Dad is also a policeman. We know that because he wears a gun and we hear his wife say so. Mom suggests that Chloe should add some nude shots to her portfolio, so Chloe of course asks brother Greg to shoot them. Greg is the logical choice because, as we are told by multiple female characters, he has a strong feminine side and is very sensitive to women's emotional needs.

During the nude photo shoot, Greg demonstrates his feminine empathy by knowing exactly how to elicit the proper mood from Chloe. He describes in unending detail how he wants her to imagine that she is studying her naked body in a mirror and noticing all of her flaws and blemishes, several of which he points out (that always gets 'em in the mood when I do it). Chloe responds with mirthful compliance. Then we see that Chloe is even happier with the results of the shoot than she was while doing it as she and Greg and Mom and Dad sit together at the kitchen table and study the full-frontal shots that dutiful Greg has produced of his sister. And so the story goes on with one ridiculously unrealistic scene after another.

Greg, whom every girl in town desires, only has eyes for Evelyn, the middle-aged best friend of his mother. Greg's ultra-sensitive approach has Evelyn our of her pants in about two minutes and moving in with him in his first apartment away from home only a few days later. Since almost every character in the movie has some sort of unconventional relationship or attitude, various threads begin to conflict with one another, some even with themselves.

For example, Evelyn's daughter Denice feels neglected by her mother and is incensed when Evelyn takes up with Greg. Daughter Denice is a lesbian, and we learn during another interminable dramatic monologue how Denice discovered her sexual preference. She narrates the story of her first coed party at 15, where she witnessed a single heterosexual act that revealed to her that men express their universal hatred of women through sex. She goes on to explain that she has nothing against men but that she never intends to give one a chance to hate her for no reason. Fortunately for men, very few women fear that a surefire way to instantly earn a man's hatred is to have sex with him.

In case we might have trouble believing what these characters say and do, the movie shows us in fairly graphic detail. In fact, about the only real action in the movie occurs in its many scenes of full-frontal nudity. We see 40-something Evelyn and supposed-teenager Greg nude several times, sister Chloe posing nude for Greg as well as the naked pictures from the session, and the nude Denice and her new lover, a neurotic wallflower who blossoms under Denice's sensitive lesbian hands, but that's another story. In the end, all the characters who were driven apart by the needs and unconventional decisions of other characters come back together and accept one another because that's what happens in amateurish, politically-correct indie movies. If that's your idea of art, then this one's for you.

Blind Beast (1969)

A very simple (and sometimes hilarious) psychological allegory

[7/10 · 15 September 2007]

My response to this movie is a little different than others I've read. Many point to themes like sadomasochism, the cruelty of art, and addiction. However, no one seems to have noted the rather obvious moral. In fact, the movie constantly tells viewers how to interpret its symbolism. Far from subtle, it bludgeons us with the desired interpretation with the same force Michio uses to drive his sculptor's knife through his model's limbs. It is a cautionary coming-of-age tale that enacts a distinctly Japanese version of the Oedipal myth in which the son must overcome his mother rather than his father (there are no fathers here).

The blind Michio is incomplete. As the model Aki tells him, he is not a real man but a momma's boy, a child who still sleeps with his mother (which he does). His mother has done everything in her power to preserve Michio's infantile dependence. She helped him build the cavernous warehouse and fill it with the grotesquely bizarre sculptures of female body parts. The model Aki quickly realizes these are just more symbols of Michio's infantilism. Michio reacts with stunned recognition when Aki points out to him that he has made the figures so large because they represent his childish perspective. To a certain extent, Aki lessens Michio's blindness by repeatedly opening his eyes to the reality of his situation.

Aki's mother, on the other hand, will go to any lengths to preserve Michio's blind reliance on her. She is more than willing to participate in kidnapping and perhaps worse to provide him a new plaything. Indeed, without this accomplice, Michio could never have captured or held Aki. After Michio has chloroformed Aki, his mother leads the way back to the den and guards the door to prevent Aki's escape. However, when Aki starts to become more than a toy to Michio by awakening his romantic and sexual desires, she threatens the mother's dominance.

Again, Aki offers the interpretation of what must follow. She promises to have sex with Michio, even marry him, but only if he will break totally with his mother. In effect, she tells him that to become a man he must reject his mother and assert his mature sexuality with her. She adds that any good (Japanese?) mother would welcome such a change in her son. This sets up a literal tug of war between Aki and the mother for Michio's affection. The seductive Aki stands on one side of Michio exhorting him to choose her in return for her sexual favors, and the mother pulls at him from the other side, warning Michio that Aki is a lying slut who will betray him. The symbolic psychological triangle was so explicitly rendered that I couldn't help but laugh out loud as Michio repeatedly knocks his mother to the floor during this struggle. Then the mother pulls out the big guns, reminding Michio of all her sacrifices in bearing, birthing, and raising him. But Michio fires back with the ultimate guilt trip, accusing his mother of being the cause of his blindness. With one final shove, Michio ends his psychological struggle by knocking his mother against a pillar, after which she dies from the blow to her head.

Michio has literally and figuratively broken the triangle and started on the path to manhood by choosing Aki and an adult sexual relationship. But he doesn't stop there. With the mother no longer blocking the door, Aki believes she can now escape her blind captor. She bolts, but Michio intercepts her. No longer needing his mother to control Aki's feminine assertiveness, Michio drags Aki back into the sculpture gallery and rapes her on top of the gigantic nude sculpture. Earlier, Michio had asked Aki why she agreed to pose nude for a photographer but refused to allow him to feel her body so he could sculpt it. She replied that the photographer was a famous and respected artist who presented her in a way she wanted to be viewed, as the image of the "new woman." In fact, the photographs depicted her in various states of naked bondage. Michio now explicitly forces Aki to accept the traditional role of women in Japanese culture that the photographer only symbolically portrayed -- as an utterly submissive sex object.

Interestingly, it is only when Michio begins to physically abuse Aki that the director Masumura allows the viewer to enjoy Aki's full sexuality, exposing her breasts for the first time in live action (they were also visible at the beginning of the movie in the portraits exhibited by the photographer, another "real" man). Once violently subjugated, the formerly willful Aki not only accepts the submissive role but embraces it to such an extreme that she adopts Michio's disability, becoming blind herself and symbolically accepting his view of the world. She encourages him to beat and mutilate her, and she ultimately allows him to objectify her totally by dismembering her. She becomes like the sculpted body parts that adorn Michio's world, another product of his artistic vision.

With Aki dead, Michio also commits suicide and validates his mother's warning. The mother had cautioned that Michio did not know the real world. Once Michio leaves the safety of her symbolic womb for the path to manhood, his end is inevitable. Maturity ultimately means death. So we're left with a very transparent rendering of a basic maturation myth with some peculiarly Japanese elements. To become a man, a boy must reject his umbilical dependence on women and take on the dominant role. Independent women, on the other hand, are seductive charlatans (except for you, Mom). To be proper members of society, they must submit totally to the desires of men. And of course, sex, as always, equals death for both, but neither has any choice but to accept it as an inevitable consequence of growing up. Obviously, Blind Beast is a feminist's allegorical nightmare. Nevertheless, it is a fascinating rendering of an archetypal story.

When Will I Be Loved (2004)

Too clever or not clever enough

[2/10 · 23 December 2005]

When Will I Be Loved is either a really stupid movie or far too clever for its own good. Neve Campbell plays Vera Barrie, a poor little rich girl who, at first glance, appears to be fending off the efforts of everyone around her to use and control her. Her stereotypical wealthy parents make clear how she should arrange every aspect of her life, from what kind of mattress she sleeps on to who she sleeps with. Her boyfriend is a sleazy con artist who hopes to talk her into having sex with a billionaire Italian count for $100,000, wanting in effect, to pimp her. The Count, of course, wants to buy her affection and her body. As it turns out, none of these characters controls this girl. On the contrary, the amoral Vera manipulates almost everyone she comes into contact with for her own amusement and gain. While interviewing for an assistant's job with a college professor, she maneuvers the academic's clumsy efforts to flirt with her into a virtual admission of potential sexual harassment, all but forcing him to offer her the position. This interview takes place as the two are walking along the sidewalks of New York, and when the professor is twice distracted by passers by (one of whom is disgraced boxer Mike Tyson himself in perhaps the high point of the movie) Vera uses each break in their conversation to try to pick up attractive men who happen to be near. She engages in a lesbian tryst behind her boyfriend's back, and she apparently deliberately starts an argument between a couple on a park bench by openly flirting with the boy. In the central plot conflict, the affair with the count, she is the spider weaving every strand of the web. Her boyfriend Ford makes a pathetic attempt to conceal his motives as he introduces the subject, but she seems to expect this kind of low scheme from him and anticipates his every move. Not surprisingly, she quickly accepts and tells him to set it up. The lovestruck Count has only seen Vera briefly twice and compares his ardor for her to the poet Dante's passion for Beatrice. Vera quickly manipulates the Count into upping the ante to one million dollars cash. She gives the Count his afternoon of passion and stashes the money in a safety deposit box immediately thereafter. When Ford returns to claim his share of the loot, she lies, telling him that the Count is a fraud who refused to pay her the $100,000. This leads to a confrontation between Ford and the Italian with deeply tragic consequences for both. Although clearly the cause of this misery, Vera show little evidence of guilt and more than a little self-satisfaction.

While this plot may sound interesting, the movie robs it of the energy and intrigue it promises. First of all, Vera is a strangely passive character. She doesn't seem to actively manipulate anyone, she simply reacts to what they do in a way that elicits the behavior she wants. As a result, she is neither interesting nor sympathetic, and, worst of all, her passivity conceals just how despicable she is. When the revelation comes, it is too late and too muted to redeem the story. At best, we go from not liking Vera very much to hating her. We never understand what motivates or satisfies her (beyond her obviously active sex life).

Second, much of what happens is simply not very believable. Basically everyone in the story but Vera is a one-note stereotype. The Count is the most problematic. With no back story but the fact that he is a billionaire "communications" magnate, we are asked to believe that he would bring six grocery bags full of cash to an apartment to make a woman he'd never met happy in the hope that she might sleep with him -- if she wants to. Perhaps this could happen, but the movie doesn't earn our belief. Our incredulity is sharpened by the fact that Neve Campbell is arguably the least attractive woman in the movie. Neve's highly publicized nude shower scene does little to establish the sexual magnetism Vera is apparently supposed to have. Both naked and clothed, she's somewhat shapeless, which only mirrors the impassive smugness she wears on her pleasant but unremarkable face for most of the movie. Vera doesn't have to look like Angelina Jolie, but she should at least look interested. Finally, the soundtrack is horrible. Most of the dialog is drowned in an incessant music track. Brahms, Bach, and Beethoven accompany Vera almost every moment she's on screen. Perhaps the unending Classical ditties are meant to suggest Vera's sophistication or artistry, but like her vague character they quickly move from puzzling to annoying.

Evilspeak (1981)

Awfully great (includes SPOILERS)

[8/10 · 21 August 2004]

If the recent DVD release gains the uncensored version a wider audience, Evilspeak will doubtless take its rightful place of prominence among the great "bad" movies. A story of nerd revenge, Evilspeak pushes every cliché of the genre completely over the edge. Its uber-dork hero, Stanley Coopersmith (Clint Howard) is an orphaned charity case at an exclusive military academy who endures an intolerable string of unwarranted abuses and indignities from a quartet of preppy cadets and various school officials. The final straw comes when Coopersmith's heartless classmates ritually murder his puppy (that's right, his puppy!). With the help of a demonically-possessed computer, Coopersmith seeks retribution through Satanic rites. This results in a hilariously bizarre and incredibly bloody climax that includes killer pigs, a zombie janitor, and Clint Howard, with a Don King hairdo and glowing red eyes, lopping off heads with a bejeweled sword while floating through the air in a cloud of smoke.

Apart from its sheer outrageousness, Evilspeak has many positive virtues. The older members of the cast are all veteran character actors, and several of the younger players went on to successful TV careers. All do a serviceable job with their cardboard roles and stereotypical dialog. Of course, Clint Howard has spent most of his life portraying misfits and geeks, many of them in his brother Ron's movies. Howard's goofy appearance and clumsy earnestness buy his Coopersmith a little extra sympathy at the beginning and make his evil transformation at the end all the more delightfully ridiculous.

The film's most obvious liability is that it develops a little slowly, but the hyperbolic ending more than makes up for the early pace. Considering the film's low budget, it has attractive and highly-detailed sets and adequate special effects that work together to create a perfect drive-in movie tone. The whole thing is totally silly but great, great fun.