Film Review: DISORDERLIES (1987, Michael Schultz)

Stars: 4 of 5.

Running Time: 86 minutes.

Notable Cast or Crew:  Starring The Fat Boys (Mark Morales, Darren Robinson, & Damon Wimbley), Anthony Geary (FISH TANK, BLOOD SABBATH), Tony Plana (VALLEY GIRL, JFK, UGLY BETTY), Marco Rodriguez (COBRA, THE CROW), and Ralph Bellamy (HIS GIRL FRIDAY, ROSEMARY'S BABY, THE WOLF MAN).  Written by Mitchell Klebanoff and Mark Feldberg (BEVERLY HILLS NINJA).  Directed by Michael Schultz (THE LAST DRAGON, CAR WASH).  Featuring music by Bon Jovi, Bananarama, The Fat Boys, Ca$hflow, and The Art of Noise.

Tag-line: "Lapping up luxury and rapping up a storm!"

Best one-liner:  Every... single... line.

[TO PROPERLY READ THIS REVIEW, BEGIN BEAT-BOXING NOW]

The Fat Boys are back

And you know they can never be whack

The Fat Boys are back

As thespians they've a natural knack

To film goers they had nothin' to prove

Cause they stole our hearts already with the masterpiece KRUSH GROOVE

Disorderly orderlies with skills you can't dismiss

They say "Let's do this like Brutus... or maybe (Jerry) Lewis"

A gold-diggin' son sprouts an scheme quite cockamamie

Holy shit,  his dad is played by Ralph Bell-amy!?

Anyway the son, he wants his wealthy dad dead

So he hires on the Fat Boys to nurse him in his bed


Son leaves 'em alone because he's content
That sooner or later dad'll meet with an acc-i-dent

With Hawaiian shirts and Davy Crockett hats
The Boys aren't quite ready for tuxedos and spats

First they play poker, ante-in' up with his pills

Then they get the idea for some Bellamy cheap-thrills!

You think he's gonna hate it at the roller discoteque

But he ends up fittin' perfect, like a cassette fits a deck!

The Fat Boys are back

And you know they can never be whack

The Fat Boys are back

As thespians they've a natural knack

There's a Fuller-style WHITE DOG who needs to be fought

Whoa!  Social commentary!  Who woulda thought?

Hey– Remember when COBRA was drinkin' the beer

and told this guy "Go ahead, I don't shop here"

Well that Cannon Film baddie of Golan n' Globus

Shows up here with his same old sour puss

He could maybe even pass for– well he could almos' 

STAND AND DELIVER like a poor man's Ol-mos

The Fat Boys are back

And you know they can never be whack

The Fat Boys are back

As thespians they've a natural knack

Dressed to the nine

Scottish pine

Fine red wine...

CON-GA LINE!

They're livin' the high life cause they're such good guys

Hell, I think the Fat Boys rate a Nobel Prize

Well to the evil son that don't mean a thing

Who I forgot to mention looks a lot like Sting

He assaults dad's mansion 'stead of eatin' some crow

And the denouement seems culled from a RAMBO

The baddies get Krushed by the weight o' the boys

Even in combat they've got a natural poise

It gets real zany n' there's a fire jet of flame

but dontcha worry kiddies cause we end on a freeze-frame!

The Fat Boys are back

And you know they can never be whack

The Fat Boys are back

As thespians they've a natural knack

[END BEAT-BOXING NOW]

-Sean Gill

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Film Review: CHILD'S PLAY (1988, Tom Holland)

Stars: 4 of 5.
Running Time: 87 minutes.
Notable Cast or Crew: Brad Dourif (ONE FLEW OVER THE CUCKOO'S NEST, WISE BLOOD, DEADWOOD, SPONTANEOUS COMBUSTION), Chris Sarandon (FRIGHT NIGHT, THE RESURRECTED, DOG DAY AFTERNOON), Catherine Hicks (STAR TREK IV, PEGGY SUE GOT MARRIED), Alex Vincent (CHILD'S PLAY II, MY FAMILY TREASURE). Music by Joe Renzetti (THE BUDDY HOLLY STORY, DEAD & BURIED). Written by Don Mancini (CELLAR DWELLER, all the CHUCKY movies). Cinematography by Bill Butler (JAWS, GREASE, ROCKY III). Chucky designed by Kevin Yagher (TALES FROM THE CRYPT, NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET 2-4, FACE/OFF). Directed by Tom Holland (FRIGHT NIGHT, FATAL BEAUTY, THINNER, writer of CLASS OF 1984, PSYCHO II, and CLOAK & DAGGER).
Tag-line: "Andy Barclay has a new playmate who's in no mood to play."
Best one-liner: "BATTER UP!" [Brad Dourif cackles]

Maybe you have an affinity for killer dolls. Maybe you're a die-hard Dourif fan. Maybe you're a devotee of Chucky's complex, Miltonian love affair with the word "bitch," a relationship that is only rivaled by Fred Krueger's. Hell, maybe you thought you were seeing the film adaptation of Robert Marasco's Tony-winning CHILD'S PLAY. Nevertheless, you're here- so prepare yourself for a journey in murderous My Buddies and Reaganist ultra-consumerism– it's my top nine things about CHILD'S PLAY!

#1. The movie is sort of like an alternate ending to FATAL BEAUTY. For those not in the know, FATAL BEAUTY is one of the most incredible wisecrackin' cop movies that the 80's had to offer. Also directed by Tom Holland, also starring Brad Dourif as a murderous villain, and also featuring a Dourif vs. good guys showdown in a store. Only this time it's a toy store, and it's not the finale– it's the opening scene!

Do the "Barbie Rockers" in the background make Dourif's death scene more of less powerful? I don't know if I'm qualified to answer that.

Check it out: Dizzy Dizzy Dinosaurs, Mouse Trap, and Fireball Island. The goddamned trifecta of board games that took three hours to set up and were sprinkled with malfunctioning AA battery receptacles and malformed, ill-fitting plastic parts. That doesn't sit so well with Dourif, so he:

And yeah, that's a Little Tykes car... ON FIRE.

#2. The "Good Guys" commercial that's 700 times scarier than the actual Chucky.

What if Dourif just donned that grotesque, adult-sized Good Guy costume and began terrorizing everyone? I'd watch that movie, too.

#3. Schweet puppetry and animatronics.

A blend of puppetry, performers in costume, and animatronics, Chucky himself is certainly an achievement in practical special effects. Co-writer of SLEEPY HOLLOW and known for the Cryptkeeper, some Freddy Krueger sequels, and various other horror and sci-fi projects, Kevin Yagher led the Chucky design team, though it featured contributions from Howard Berger (CREEPSHOW 2, HOUSE III, IN THE MOUTH OF MADNESS), Carl Sorensen (TREMORS), Christoper Swift (TERMINATOR 2, JURASSIC PARK), Mark C. Yagher (FACE/OFF, STARSHIP TROOPERS), Rick Lalonde (DARKMAN, MISERY), Ron Pipes (DR. GIGGLES, SIN CITY), Zandra Platzek (GREMLINS 2: THE NEW BATCH, MASTERS OF THE UNIVERSE), and James Kagel (THE THING, DEAD & BURIED, THE ABYSS). The result is alternatingly stilted and fluid (whenever called for by the script) and simultaneously uncanny and hilarious. Bravo!

#4. YOU STUPID BITCH I TEACH YOU TO FUCK WITH ME and Brad Dourif's cackle.

One might assume a general diminishment of the Brad Dourif factor as soon as he's no longer physically "on screen," but his deranged, spirited voice acting imbues Chucky with genuine presence– you feel the bloodthirsty, claustrophobic frustrations of Dourif's Charles Lee Ray, trapped inside the body of a doll: and Dourif's voice-acting bridges the gap and suspends our disbelief. Also, his evil cackle is magnificent.

#5. A nuanced Chris Sarandon performance.

Well, maybe he's not at his best here, but let's face it: the man is never bad.


Chucky attempts a razor-edged Chris Saradon low-blow.

#6. Chucky battles.


Whenever anyone must fight Chucky, there is a certain lightheartedness that can't help but emerge from the horror: I mean, he's a doll. As such, he gets flung about the room on occasion, battered, punched...he bites people with his little doll teeth. I guess this is just the sort of stuff that I enjoy.

#7. The kiddie gets a one-liner!

Just as in NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET 5: THE DREAM CHILD, a kid gets to deliver a crucial one-liner. (In that fine film, it was "School's out, Krueger!") Here, Chucky has been penned inside a fireplace. He turns up the charm, effectuates his best "sad eyes" and says:

Whereupon the kid ruthlessly prepares to fling a match and bellows with élan:


#8. Chucky comes back more times than the Terminator. And exactly like the Terminator.

Seriously, there even comes the point where he's dragging himself on the floor by one arm, his robotic skeleton revealed beneath the charred doll-flesh.

#9. Select scene Chucky commentary. Now, this is one that I only recently discovered with the DVD. Chucky, in character, delivers audio commentary on several crucial scenes. I couldn't tell if it was Brad Dourif or a very skilled impersonator, but regardless Chucky begins exactly as you'd expect: "Killin' this bitch," "Here, I'm toying with her," "at least in 1988 they still made real fuckin' hammers for kids," insane cackling, etc., etc. Then, as the obvious gimmick begins to wear thin, he begins to get slightly existential– he speaks about the difficulties of adjusting to the doll body, how it feels to kill as a human and then as a doll, etc. Ultimately, the fourth wall is broken, and Chucky's conversing in character with one of the producers. A truly great and bizarre addition to the film. I can't help but wish that this practice would become more frequent, at least amongst cult– imagine Robert Englund doing in-character Freddy commentary, or Rutger Hauer as "The Hitcher" for THE HITCHER, or, shit, how 'bout Clu Gulager in character on THE KILLERS! The possibilities are endless.

Four stars.

– Sean Gill

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Film Review: GIALLO (2010, Dario Argento)

Stars: 3.25 of 5.
Running Time: 92 minutes.
Notable Cast or Crew: Adrien Brody (THE THIN RED LINE, THE PIANIST), Elsa Pataky (Brody's current girlfriend, acted in SNAKES ON A PLANE, BEYOND RE-ANIMATOR), Emmanuelle Seigner (Polanski's wife, acted in THE NINTH GATE, THE DIVING BELL AND THE BUTTERFLY), Robert Miano (FIRESTARTER, CHINA GIRL). Cinematography by Frederic Fasano (SCARLET DIVA, MOTHER OF TEARS).
Tag-line: "Oscar Winner Adrien Brody."
Best one-liner: "You so selfish! Asshole!"

As a Dario Argento fan, it pained me to hear all of the negative buzz about his latest flick, GIALLO. All I want is a return to form– artful murders bathed in colored light and set to thrumpin' beats by Goblin. That's all I want. Instead, it seemed we had another CARD PLAYER on our hands. But now, having seen GIALLO, I am pleased to report that it is way better than the ramshackle shitstorm of derivative torture porn which haunted my most pessimistic nightmares. I'm not sure we can call it good, per se, but we sure can't call it 'horrible,' and that, my friends, is a latter-day Argento victory! Pass the Campari!

There's a lot of, shall we say, questionable material in GIALLO, but I think it's fair to say that there's been something a little cockeyed about every Argento film since TRAUMA, and some would argue that things have been a little off for even longer. For the benefit of the readers who would like this article to have a happy ending, I'll tackle the bad before I tackle the good.

Now, for starters, it's not even a giallo. GIALLO is not a giallo. Let that sink in for a minute. In fact, the title refers to the killer's jaundiced skin ('giallo' is the Italian word for 'yellow'). There's no black gloves, no intricate mystery as to the killer's identity, no artfully constructed murder sequences. Instead, the killer drives a white minivan taxi, wears a hoodie, and tortures and kills his victims in a dingy basement without the benefit of a vivid color pallette or Italo disco.

The soundtrack isn't even done by Claudio Simonetti, who's usually happy to disavow his own trademark style and go the poor man's Hollywood route. Instead, it was scored by a man named Marco Werba, and it sounds like the bastard child of Bernard Herrmann and Danny Elfman. That in and of itself is not a bad thing, but in the context of Argento- known for his morbidly thrilling soundscapes- it's weak.
The opening credits are done in that "twentieth generation rip-off of SE7EN" style that I love so much, complete with jittery, out of focus jumps and a wonky exposure.

How gritty, how authentic! Maybe they should have named the movie GI@LLO or something.

And here's something I never needed to see in an Argento movie-

...

...

...

Well, now that that's out of the way- on to the good. Much like DEATH WISH V: THE FACE OF DEATH, Argento boldy chooses to open his film at a fashion show.

While I certainly prefer the Euro-sleaze of the 70's and 80's (NEW YORK RIPPER, et al.), but this'll do, Dario. This'll do.

The killer (played by newcomer "Byron Deidra"...), despite being conceptually hackneyed, is fairly creepy in execution. This scene finds him, um, apparently jerkin' the turkey to some torture photographs he's taken. Note the pacifier.

That pacifier is clearly the one extra push that the scene needed. Of course, this all ties into a childhood trauma, a favorite subject of Argento's.

And what have we here?

Asia Argento dropped out of GIALLO back when it was supposed to star Vincent Gallo, but at least she's around in spirit for a pictorial cameo.

Adrien Brody, our lead and co-producer (who's now suing the production), delivers a solid performance. He's taking things very seriously, which is the way things ought to be taken in an Argento movie. If we'd got some annoying American actor in here playing it for laffs, we'd be missing out on the sincerely surreal moments that naturally emanate from an Argento picture. I.e., at one point he earnestly explains that, as a cop, "my methods aren't exactly by the book."

As he is introduced, the camera pans across his desk, past a New York-style pizza, a baseball, a bat, and a carefully draped jacket with visible text which reports, "F.B.I. Special New York City Department."

In walks our heroine (Emmanuelle Seigner), who immediately asks the question which is burning at the forefront of all our minds: "Are you from New York?"

Emmanuelle Seigner is, as always, pretty amusing and possibly drunk.

[Insert catty comment about the quality of THE NINTH GATE here.]

At one point, she gets to scream "You so selfish! Asshole! ASSHOLE!"

That kinda stuff has always been worth the price of admission for me, but keep in mind that rave is from the guy who gave five stars to MURDER ROCK. But if you draw no satisfaction from Adrien Brody somberly announcing "GOTCHA YOU YELLOW FUCK..." than maybe you shouldn't be watching Argento movies in the first place.

The body count's low, the gore's not entertaining, the music's off, and the aesthetics are ill-advised, but there's an abrupt freeze-frame ending, in true Argento fashion. Thank God for small favors.

In the end, I have to give it a touch over three stars. And though I loathe to use "not as bad as I expected" as a form of praise, I think that it's applicable here. Though it tries for 'generic, overproduced, Hollywood-lite torture porn,' enough of Argento's wonderful eccentricities shine through to make it worth it for his fans. And even non-Argento fans may find themselves pursing their lips, half-nodding, and muttering to themselves, "that was sort of a decent police procedural."

-Sean Gill

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Film Review: VISION QUEST (1985, Harold Becker)

Stars: 4 of 5.
Running Time: 105 minutes.
Tag-line: "All he needed was a lucky break. Then one day she moved in."
Notable Cast or Crew: Matthew Modine (FULL METAL JACKET, THE BLACKOUT), Linda Fiorentino (GOTCHA!, AFTER HOURS), Ronny Cox (ROBOCOP, TOTAL RECALL), Charles Hallahan (THE THING, FATAL BEAUTY), MADONNA (BODY OF EVIDENCE, DICK TRACY), Forest Whitaker (BIRD, GHOST DOG), Frank Jasper (FREEWAY MANIAC), J.C. Quinn (THE ABYSS, TURNER & HOOCH). Music (ostensibly) by Tangerine Dream. Screenplay by Darryl Ponicsan (novelist of THE LAST DETAIL and CINDERELLA LIBERTY).
Best one-liner: "SHUTE? Shute's a monster! A genuine geratoid! His own father has to use a livewire to keep him from fuckin' the fireplace!"

VISION QUEST is one of those unsung 80's workhorses- it's not flashy, it's not glitzy, it's not silly. And aside from a brief, refreshingly low-key early appearance by Madonna (her first movie role aside from a student film, A CERTAIN SACRIFICE, which she later tried to have banned), it's not populated with the biggest of stars or the slickest of production values. Shot on location in ramshackle diners, hotel kitchens, and sweaty high school gymnasiums in Spokane, Washington, it has a genuine, blue-collared determination to it. High school is not depicted as some nonstop keg party where the 'rents are on that everlasting "weekend getaway" and every teen has got a bedroom tricked out more elaborately than Pee-Wee's playhouse (a representation which I certainly enjoy in the proper context). Instead, it's filled with true-to-life characters who have to balance extracurriculars with thankless jobs and uncertain futures. On the surface, I suppose you could say that it's about wrestling. Generally, my feeling on sports movies is that if they don't involve soul-crushing performances by Stacy Keach & Susan Tyrrell (FAT CITY), dog skulls (THE BLOOD OF HEROES), pedestrian casualties (DEATH RACE 2000), or Sub-Zeros who become just plain zeros (THE RUNNING MAN), then they're going to be an uphill battle. But this isn't a sports movie. Not exactly. It's about the solitary, spiritual journey that every person must one day embark upon- that critical juncture when you must decide upon the answer to that weighty question- 'How to live?'

Based on Terry Davis' 1979 award-winning Young Adult novel (which was called "the truest novel about growing up since THE CATCHER IN THE RYE" by John Irving) and directed by the generally skillful Harold Becker (CITY HALL, TAPS, SEA OF LOVE...and MALICE), our story revolves around the eighteen year-old Louden Swain (Matthew Modine) and his desire to imbue his life with purpose by dropping twenty-some pounds and challenging Brian Shute, the menacing titan state wrestling champion. Along the way, he develops a sort of relationship with a New Jersey wandering artist (Linda Fiorentino, in her screen debut), who's on her way to San Francisco... and crashing at his house. The plot is deceptively simple, and though it lends itself to some rockin' montage sequences, it's a film very much in the mold of other slice-of-life quotidian storytellers like Vittorio de Sica or Satyajit Ray. And while that claim may seem (and may in fact be) ridiculous, VISION QUEST succeeds in getting you to take it seriously enough that the teased Jersey hair, the silver (astronaut?) track suit,

an odd athletic formation that involves purple jumpsuits & a raging circular movement, and even the presence of Madonna never distract you, never send you on a nostalgia tangent, never extract you from the pure, human drama.

The cast is excellent. Modine is committed, connected, and living the role. Fiorentino is taking that whole 'sexy deadpan' thing that she does and is running with it.

Charles Hallahan is appropriately gruff and appropriately supportive as the Coach, and, as a side note, he worked alongside Madonna twice– with this and BODY OF EVIDENCE. Maybe she was a closet fan of THE THING and pulled a couple of strings? Speaking of Madonna, she shows up merely as a singer on stage at the Big Foot Tavern, singing "Crazy for You" and "The Gambler." Hoping to bank more on Madonna and less on the thoughtful storytelling, the studio marketed the film on more than a few occasions as CRAZY FOR YOU.

Madonna: not the focal point of VISION QUEST.

Annnyway, Ronny Cox, the icy corporate villain of ROBOCOP and TOTAL RECALL, plays against type as Modine's encouraging, working-class pop (!), and it's a joy to watch. J.C. Quinn is tearing it up as a ragged but kindly arm-wrestlin' co-worker of Modine's.

Forest Whitaker has a bit part as a lighthearted fellow wrestler who doesn't quite qualify as comic relief, but he's got a palpable joie de vivre and he'd work again with Modine some years later on Abel Ferrara's MARY.

The soundtrack is solid, though calling it a Tangerine Dream one is extremely misleading. They only show up a little over an hour in to offer some of their patented, tense 'fiercely pulsating montage music.' The rest of the soundtrack belongs to satisfying 80's rockers like Foreigner, Journey, Don Henley, Sammy Hagar, and Red Rider, whose classic rock radio standby "Lunatic Fringe" is used in such a way that it now makes one think of of Modine working out in a gym instead of Holocaust denying.

Along the way, there's nosebleeds, jealousy, road trips, fainting spells, and martial arts tips from a creepy dude in a hotel room. When it all comes down to it, it's the rare sports film where you actually care about who wins. And you care because you really have no idea which way it's going to go.


Hallahan is impressed by Modine's fortitude.

In all, it's a mature, muted look at the formative years. My one complaint is that a near-rape scene is forgiven too easily, but on the whole it deals with sexuality in such a frank, honest way that I have no choice but to admire it. As far as I can tell, it's become a cult hit with the 'high school wrestling' crowd, and that probably has more to do with a loving attention to every grapplin' detail than the rich, character-driven monologues, but I can live with that. Four stars.

-Sean Gill

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