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Reviews
Titanic: The Final Word with James Cameron (2012)
Cameron's Pseudoscience Unconvincing
Once more, just because a billionaire can afford to pursue his HOBBY of diving shipwrecks doesn't make him a scientist.
In "Titanic: The Final Word with James Cameron," the ultra-wealthy filmmaker attempts to convince a group of Naval SCIENTISTS that his imaginative musing on the sinking of the Titanic is as good as actual SCIENCE.
Naval hydrodynamics experts watched Cameron's presentation with expressions of incredulity, then flatly refuted Cameron's overblown hypotheses to his face. The producers of this film give the REAL experts only a matter of SECONDS to state their case.
I mean, has anyone ever thought of just standing up and telling James Cameron, "You're NOT a SCIENTIST, okay? You're a rich guy surrounded by a bunch of Titanic groupies and yes-men."
Sin (2003)
The Only "Sin" About This Movie Is That The Investors Committed Suicide
I have to hand it to Gary Oldman for toughing it out to finish this movie; because, I could see it in his eyes, he hated working this film. I, too, hated this flick. The torture and abuse on the screen, while disingenuously hidden from the viewer — we only actually see Ving Rhames' reaction to a video of his sister's brutal sodomy-rape by two Chinese guys, and there's some kind of contrived flashback of Gary Oldman's retarded kid brother taking the rap as a cop- killer — pales in comparison to the EDITORIAL TORTURE heaped upon the audience.
Seriously, this movie tries your patience. Whoever was cutting this film lingered too long on mundane scenes and then ZIPPED to improbable action scenes, until I was blurting, "Oh, come ON!" every few seconds. Let's just disregard the horrible costumes and hairstyles and deliberately bad dialogue — I mean, it MUST BE deliberate, right, it must be a premeditatedly bad script — and tell me WHERE Ving Rhames is supposed to be exacting vengeance on Gary Oldman?
Tell me.
Ving has Gary point-blank in his sights in the evil headquarters, right, then BOOM there's a scuffle and BOOM there's a night-time car chase in the city and BOOM now they're out of the city and it's daylight in the desert and BOOM suddenly Gary Oldman's car is sinking in quicksand.
Hey, all of that transpires in less than two minutes, okay?
Oh, yeah, I get it, I get the poetic justice of death by quicksand over a bullet in the — NO, I DON'T GET IT!!! I don't understand why or how this ending was slopped together. It's like the film editor was doing jello-shots.
I can hear the ENTIRE AUDIENCE moaning, their trust and credulity exhausted. Mercifully, Ving decides to shoot Gary Oldman's head sticking up out of the quicksand, but only AFTER insisting that Gary recite "Death Be Not Proud," okay?
Is that enough abuse? Not abuse of the actors on screen — God knows Ving and Gary were probably drinking themselves to sleep every night during production — but I mean abuse heaped upon the audience, cringing in their seats. If this hasn't been nominated as one of the WORST movies of all time, it should be.
Drag Me to Hell (2009)
This Is Sam's Money Shot — No Spoilers, Just Shock & Awe
"Drag Me to Hell" was, I think, the perfect horror film... With this film, Sam Raimi has demonstrated that he is a master. Not just "a" master, but "THE" Master of Horror.
Raimi kept me in the roller-coaster from beginning to end, he was scaring me even when I didn't need to be scared, he had me scared for the little Spanish kid, then scared for the safety of a kitten; then scared that the guy's parents wouldn't like the girl, then scared of the job hierarchy at the girl's workplace. Sheesh. It was FEAR, FEAR, FEAR, FEAR, FEAR, TREPIDATION, FEAR, FEAR, FEAR, FEAR, FEAR... Sam Raimi immersed me in FEAR from beginning to end.
It was masterful. Effective. Hoo-boy, effective. I am saying that this film is technically, cinematically, musically, everthingly TIGHT and PERFECT. A beautiful film, timed down to the nanosecond, expertly crafted, and scary as hell.
This is the movie I wanted to see Raimi do after Evil Dead 2...seriously.
Be Kind Rewind (2008)
"Be Kind Rewind" Doesn't Deserve Rewinding Nor Repeat Viewing
I walked into "Be Kind Rewind" with no expectations I knew it was Jack Black, I knew the comedic premise of the film as abundantly revealed through its trailers. So I knew it was going to be goofy and not much else; frankly, I didn't WANT anything else from it. For the first hour or so, this film delivered on its screwy premise: A couple of guys remake standard movie titles on zero budget with a hand-held camera. Zany antics ensue. I was okay with that, even up to and including the movie industry eventually lowering the boom on these guys for copyright infringement yes, that sounds funny, let's explore the comedy of copyright infringement, see where it takes us.
However, the last third of the film suddenly took a different track, as the would-be film producers attempt a pseudo-documentary of the life of songwriter Fats Waller. Um... Okay... Let's explore the comedy of documentary film making. Or, let's explore the comedy of a dead musician's biography. Wait a minute. What?
Suddenly, "Be Kind Rewind" wasn't a comedy at all. It wasn't funny, it wasn't heart-warming, it wasn't even clever. I was shaking my head, perhaps some wiring had come loose and I was totally missing something. What started out with screwball comedic antics had now dissolved into some sort of misplaced amateur tribute to Fats Waller. Again, what is so funny about this?
I mean, I can almost make a connection About a hundred years ago, Waller was a black songwriter who often claimed that people were stealing his half-baked songs and turning them into monster hits. The hapless flunkies in "Be Kind Rewind" start out doing just the opposite, taking monster hit movies and turning them into half-baked caricatures. But... Is this film supposed to be a sophisticated indictment of the injustice of intellectual property theft? Or is it supposed to be a goofy comedy?
The truth is, "Be Kind Rewind" doesn't know WHAT kind of movie it wants to be, and it starts unraveling about half-way through, with dismal results. No, I didn't feel all warm and fuzzy and satisfied by the time the credits rolled. Instead, I felt rather puzzled and more than a little ticked off because I'd traded 2 hours of my undivided attention in exchange for perhaps 2 minutes of chuckles. The rest of the film is decidedly tedious.
Crash (1996)
Inexplicably Psychotic and Sad
A dreadful, lurching cripple of a film, straight out of the psycho ward. If there actually is a subculture of crash fetish weirdos, then they must surely hold forth in the basement of a maximum security asylum under lock and key, judging from the dismal, sad freaks portrayed in Crash.
Picture this: Steaming, shattered vehicles dripping with blood, dead and dying passengers, bodies maimed, lives destroyed... Such are the scenes of carnage that give our "hero" a woody in this film. His wife is not much better a specimen, with her perpetually vacant, schizophrenic eye-rolling and her penchant for humping anything with scar tissue. Pretty ugly, right?
Okay, now picture a feature-length film that does not vary one iota from the above description from beginning to end, and you have Crash. Characters like this, incapable of even remotely normal social interaction, can't be allowed on the streets, never mind behind the wheel. Plot less, clueless, useless.
Night Gallery: The Caterpillar/Little Girl Lost (1972)
The Caterpillar: For Sheer Horror, This Is The One
I watched Rod Serling's Night Gallery when it was a new NBC program in the early 1970s, and have warm memories of a sporadic handful of its episodes; as the series wound-down by the mid-1970s, however, the show was really awful, so hacked-up for syndication that I couldn't watch it anymore. In order to extend the Night Gallery syndication package, NBC even re-purposed episodes of another defunct TV program called "The Sixth Sense" and inserted Night Gallery intros. Really awful, and a terrible demise for Rod Serling's last series.
However, one of the true gems that came out of Night Gallery (I think I can count them all on the fingers of one hand) is a second season screenplay called "The Caterpillar" starring Laurence Harvey. In fact, I'd venture to opine that this is the best remembered episode of Night Gallery, for its sheer horror...
To be brief, a nasty little carnivorous insect crawls into Laurence Harvey's ear as he sleeps; it proceeds to burrow through his middle and inner ears and into his brain. Harvey is tied down to his bed and writhes in screaming, tortured, insane agony for days, as the bug EATS its way through his head and emerges through his other ear. The attending physician is amazed --- he's never even heard of anyone surviving this ordeal, and yet Laurence Harvey somehow manages to pull through it. Until, that is, the earwig is identified as a female, and the doctor solemnly informs Harvey that the thing apparently LAID EGGS on its way through his brains. ARRRRGGHHHH!!!
I mean, if THIS episode of Night Gallery doesn't make you squirm, nothing will. It's creepy, it's sick, it's horrifying... After viewing it, you WILL inspect your bed for insects, you WILL wear earplugs for a few nights, and you WILL NEVER forget this episode (even if you see it only once).
If they could have only maintained this sort of quality material, Night Gallery wouldn't have spiraled out of control and crashed and burned, a sorry mess that ultimately did no honor to Serling's name.
The Power (1968)
The Power... Granddaddy of Scanners and so much more
This 1968 film is actually NOT a made-for-TV movie, but was a proper theatrical release by none other than George Pal (producer of The Time Machine, The 7 Faces of Dr. Lao, and several other fantasy films).
And the IMDb plot summary is completely off the mark. This is a science fantasy/mystery/ suspense/thriller about a group of professors who suddenly realize that somebody in their group (nobody knows who) is an evolutionarily advanced mutant with far-reaching telekinetic powers.
Abruptly, the profs start dying off, one by one, in the most bizarre fashion---The dwindling group of survivors concludes that the mutant doesn't want his secret revealed and so is telekinetically murdering everyone else in the group. But WHO is the killer? WHO will be the next victim? WHO can you trust? WHO has The Power??
Actually, this is a very good movie---I rank it as one of George Pal's best, and the soundtrack is super (right on par with other over-the-top Pal soundtracks). I liked George Hamilton much more in this film than in ANY other George Hamilton movie; Suzanne Pleshette was never hotter (her first feature movie role); and Michael Rennie, well, was just the greatest, as usual, particularly when HE is revealed as the psychic assassin.
The climax of this fast-paced science fantasy was a ground-breaker that has been copied time and again in subsequent sci-fi and sci-fantasy movies. When George Hamilton finally confronts the telekinetic killer, Michael Rennie assails him with repeated and increasingly powerful psi-blasts that threaten to turn Hamilton's brain into Jello. As Rennie looms over him, Hamilton collapses in agony, and the declining heartbeat sfx indicate that his death is nigh. But then, in one of my favorite surprise-ending moments, Hamilton suddenly stirs, his glassy eyes turn on his attacker, and his heartbeat returns...with a vengeance. What follows is a devastating telekinetic counter-assault of such magnitude that Michael Rennie drops dead in a matter of seconds.
The truth of the matter, it seems, is that Rennie was indeed an evolutionarily advanced mutant with far-reaching telekinetic powers...but he happened to sense ANOTHER mutant with even MORE advanced telekinetic abilities in the vicinity; importantly, Rennie sensed that the superior mutant was dormant and ignorant of his own power. Rennie sought to kill the rival mutant before he was "awakened" and transformed into a dangerous adversary; and, thus, Rennie ended up murdering several innocent people in his psychic search for the right target.
Unfortunately for Rennie, his very best assault on the last victim (Hamilton) was, shall we say, inadequate. Rather, the violent psychic onslaught merely "awakens" Hamilton's own deadlier powers...and all of this becomes crystal clear in the last 5 minutes of the movie. Which is as it should be.
If that climax sounds familiar, if it sounds vaguely like the climax of The Matrix or any of a hundred other sci-fi or sci-fantasy story lines out there, that's because this flick, "The Power," is the granddaddy that no doubt inspired them all.
Miss Tatlock's Millions (1948)
Miss Tatlock's Millions: A Forgotten Gem
I originally saw this film when it first came to television in the 1960s... I was a 9 year old kid at the time, and I thought it was the funniest thing I had ever seen--which was probably quite right, considering everything else that passed for TV comedy in the 1960s was a reworked hodgepodge of stale vaudeville routines. Since then, to my knowledge, "Miss Tatlock's Millions" has not reappeared on broadcast TV, not on cable, not on satellite.
For all practical purposes, this movie had been entombed in some chilly crypt, far from the reach of mainstream entertainment. In fact, if my mother (now in her 70s) had not recently mentioned the name "Schuyler Tatlock"--referring to an idiotic person--I myself may have completely forgotten the movie, as well.
Schuyler (pronounced Skyler), you see, is the gravitational center of this 1948 black & white offbeat comedy... Which is pretty odd, when you know the whole story, because the character of Schuyler Tatlock dies 2 years before the film even begins.
Suffice to say that Schuyler Tatlock is IMPERSONATED by a reluctant impostor for the duration of the film--and you can understand his reluctance when you understand that the late Schuyler Tatlock was a brain-damaged, gibbering lunatic with a penchant for arson. When the straight-laced impostor asks for pointers, he's instructed: "You'll be impersonating a man who once broke up a Thanksgiving dinner because he thought HE was the turkey. Gobble-gobble."
That should be a clue as to where the story is headed.
The film moves at an alarming pace, with twists and turns, action, some great dialogue and comic bits that grab your attention every few seconds. AND, above all, there is a really WEIRD sexual tension: The Schuyler impostor falls in love with Schuyler's younger sister (who is also being seduced by her cousin), and SHE falls in love with the impostor even as he is impersonating her brother!
I know, it sounds incredibly convoluted--and it is--but the charming thing about this film is how its many complexities are cleverly remedied to the viewer's complete satisfaction. The seemingly incestuous love triangle MAY be the reason that "Miss Tatlock's Millions" has been locked away for so many decades, even though there is no actual incest in the story... I think... In any event, this is a sweet, sexy, smart and very, very entertaining comedy that is entirely TOO HARD to find.
There is at least one VHS dealer online who carries a really awful recording of the movie for less than $20; but, trust me, you're not going to find a better copy (or even ANOTHER copy) of this film ANYWHERE. Believe me, I know. Even with terrible video tracking, "Miss Tatlock's Millions" is worth the purchase.
Zotz! (1962)
ZOTZ! William Castle's Unkept Promise of Fun
"The Magic Word for Fun...ZOTZ!"
Thus reads Columbia Pictures' withering one-line ad campaign for William Castle's "Zotz!" (starring Tom Poston, Jim Backus, Margaret Dumont and Cecil Kellaway), an alleged comedy that debuted to no particular acclaim in 1962. Obviously the marketing department was slap out of lipstick for this pig.
What's regrettable is that "ZOTZ!" could have been a smart and even sexy flick if Castle had stuck to the premise of Admiral Walter Karig's novel of the same name.
For those scratching their heads, Karig's 1947 story was a fanciful metaphor for the dilemma of the Age of Nuclear Weapons... What do we do with a weapon capable of annihilating any thing, any enemy, any country, and with as little effort as pointing a finger?
What do we do? Well, for starters, we learn not to point fingers and threaten our neighbors, or we might very well destroy ourselves. A simplistic observation for those of us with nearly 60 years of Cold War hindsight; but it was a revelation to Walter Karig when he wrote "Zotz!" (just two years after the bombings of Hiroshima & Nagasaki).
The plot of "Zotz!" was just as simple: Prof. Jonathan Jones (a professor of ancient Eastern languages) comes into possession of a cursed amulet; Jones deciphers the amulet's powers to cause pain, to retard motion, and to kill, and he immediately suffers the consequences of his discovery. This is where the book and the movie part company.
Karig's story went on to explore some of the dire (and truly comical) consequences of absolute power, including sexual dysfunction: Prof. Jones realizes to his horror that pointing ANY part of his body at another living creature will send the victim into spasms of debilitating pain. This is a lousy realization for him to make during an intimate encounter with a beautiful woman--that the erection in his pants is as dangerous to her as a red-hot poker!
Now, this shows comedic promise: Here is a man of unlimited power who must vigilantly remain flaccid, lest he inflict unspeakable physical agony on his love interest. That's the stuff of classic cinema!
Ah, but does William Castle even attempt what could be one of the most awkwardly comic sexual encounters ever put to film? He does not. Well, in truth, he cannot... remember, it was 1962. Sex in mainstream entertainment was barely out of the box at the time. And William Castle wasn't a terribly clever film maker.
Instead, Castle's movie offers up a series of dry, two-dimensional vignettes merely demonstrating the ZOTZ effect: Professor Jones kills a moth; Professor Jones kills a lizard; Professor Jones becomes drunk at a faculty dinner and utters the magic word ZOTZ...zany hijinx ensue.
Unlike Karig's book, the closest this film comes to making a political statement against weapons of mass destruction is when Professor Jones attempts to turn the terrible ZOTZ amulet over to the Department of Defense; but the Pentagon bigwigs are too dimwitted to hear him out.
Granted, William Castle's "Zotz!" did employ some unusual special effects for its day, including a rooftop "slow bullet" sequence: Intoning the mystic word ZOTZ, Prof. Jones freezes a .45 slug in mid-flight and steps easily out of its path; then Jones leaps from the rooftop and falls about twenty floors in slow motion, end-over-end, to the sidewalk, as normal-speed action continues in the background. I doubt that such a surreal sequence had been attempted in film before.
It's in the final moments of the film, however, that Castle finally admits to his audience that he doesn't understand or doesn't give a damn about Walter Karig's intended message. Under Castle's ham-handed direction, Ray Russel's screenplay inexplicably finds us on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial with Tom Poston mouthing patriotic platitudes--then fade to the fluttering American flag with churchbells ringing liberty across all the land. And roll credits...
What does it mean? Is this fun? It can't be humorous, because, hey, the flag, right? Almost as an afterthought, Castle attempts to turn Karig's thoughtful anti-nuke metaphor into a pathetic piece of flag-waving Cold War propaganda. And he fails even at that.
How and why Walter Karig's much more whimsical ending was omitted from the film is one of the great mysteries of William Castle lore. As Walter Karig penned it, Professor Jones--after a roller-coaster flirtation with godhood-- chooses to chuck it all and seek a thoroughly anonymous role in society... that of a pest exterminator, whistling as he works, zapping roaches and rats one "ZOTZ" at a time.
Alas, William Castle (in his questionable wisdom) chose not to end a comedy on a comedic note; even though Karig's ending would have been perfect for Tom Poston, and may have conceivably salvaged Castle's dismal, downward-spiraling romp.