Only now does it occur to me... GRAVITY

Only now does it occur to me...  that the glory of 3-D has brought us a giant ape flinging boulders right at me and Jason Voorhees squeezing a man's head until the eyeball shoots out.  It's shown us Freddy Krueger, Michael Ironside, and even Charles Bronson in three-dimensions.  I've even seen blue cat people have strongly-implied weirdo hair sex.  But never did I ever expect to be...   
SPLOOSHED IN THE FACE WITH SANDRA BULLOCK'S CGI SPACE-TEARS!!!

 

Let me make this brief and relatively spoiler-free:  while GRAVITY indeed boasts some incredible visuals, its manipulative attempts at emotional depth are in general clumsy, unearned, and give off the overwhelming impression that they've been scraped together from the afterglow of superior movies (DON'T LOOK NOW?  APOLLO 13?).  Sadly, this cannot be remedied by an Ed Harris vocal cameo (he gets about 10 minutes of screentime, tops) or any number of George HaClooncinations, even when he does his best Doug Ross impersonation.

[It's also worth mentioning that Sandra Bullock's numerous wardrobe changes– from spacesuit into hot pants/tank top and back again– flavor the film with a "peekaboo– gym bod!" salaciousness that distracts from the narrative drive and nearly suggests a sexploitation movie, which gave rise to the idea that I'd much rather have seen a GRAVITY that was made in the 1970s, starring Pam Grier and Sid Haig!]

Perhaps I made a mistake in watching it nearly back-to-back with one of my all-time favorite 'survival journey' movies, THE WAGES OF FEAR, a film that that firmly balances character development and white knuckle thrills with virtuosic integrity; conversely, GRAVITY's mushier than a melty banana split (and I don't mean one made with astronaut ice cream!). 

Hell, I don't mean to shit on this thing; it seems that many have derived genuine emotional responses from it, including some teary-eyed patrons at my local theater.  Perhaps ours is a fragmented era of ramshackle profundities, where the existential hum can be quieted with a pat on the shoulder and a few empty platitudes.  Perhaps the legacy of cosmic wonder and moral wisdom forged by writers like Ray Bradbury, Isaac Asimov, and Arthur C. Clarke has merely become... CHICKEN SOUP FOR THE ASTRONAUT SOUL.  Now that makes me sad.  I s'pose you succeeded after all, GRAVITY!

In closing, for its unsubtle attempts at emotional button-pushing and a visual vocabulary that consists of objects hovering slowly across the frame, I think perhaps a better title may have been:

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Only now does it occur to me... PIRANHA 3DD

Only now does it occur to me...  that Gary Busey and Clu Gulager have ever fused together their particular demented aesthetics and artistic manias in the form of something as accessible as a "film scene."

Yes, the opening scene of PIRANHA 3DD (directed by Clu's son, John) affords us such an opportunity, as two hapless backwater folk (Busey and Gulager) wade into ominous marshland to examine a flatulent, piranha-infested cow-corpse.  Needless to say, they don't last for long, but Clu (still wonderful, at 84 years-young) gets to growl out some "God damns" and "What the hells"

and Busey gets to (improvise?) some peculiar dialogue:

so it certainly maintains a kind of integrity.

(And for those of you new to the Gulager "scene," I advise checking out my review of THE KILLERS, which spells it out more thoughtfully.)

Anyway, the incredible mixture of the two volatile substances that are Busey and Gulager had me wondering if this was the first time it had ever happened.  Some IMDb-ing revealed that in 1991, they both appeared in MY HEROES HAVE ALWAYS BEEN COWBOYS, a rodeo drama which co-stars Scott Glenn, Kate Capshaw, Ben Johnson, and Clarence Williams III, among others.  While I've been unable to discern whether or not Busey and Gulager shared any scenes together, I have been able to discern that it is a film that must be seen!

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Film Review: THE HOLE (2010, Joe Dante)

Stars: 4 of 5.

Running Time: 92 minutes.

Notable Cast or Crew:  Chris Massoglia (CIRQUE DU FREAK), Haley Bennett (KABOOM, MUSIC & LYRICS), Nathan Gamble (THE DARK KNIGHT, THE MIST), Teri Polo (MEET THE PARENTS, MYSTERY DATE), Bruce Dern (THE 'BURBS, SILENT RUNNING, FAMILY PLOT), Dick Miller (THE TERMINATOR, GREMLINS).  Cinematography by Theo van de Sande (WAYNE'S WORLD, MIRACLE MILE).  Written by Mark L. Smith (VACANCY, VACANCY 2). Directed by Joe Dante (GREMLINS, GREMLINS 2, EERIE INDIANA).

Tag-line: "It knows your deepest fears."

Best one-liner:  "Nobody built the hole!  The hole has been there since the world's first scream!"

I had pretty low expectations for THE HOLE.  I had seen too many beloved 80s horror directors fall victim to runaway CGI, slashed budgets, and the other side effects of the digital era to think otherwise.   Joe Dante's last theatrical feature was 2003's LOONEY TUNES: BACK IN ACTION, and THE HOLE (despite being in 3-D) struggled to find distribution for nearly three years– neither of which boded well.  Furthermore, Dante's slight contribution to the largely terrible TRAPPED ASHES did not inspire confidence, but, dammit, I should have known better–  he did make it through two seasons of MASTERS OF HORROR relatively unscathed and emerged with one mini-masterpiece (HOMECOMING).  As to THE HOLE:  I'm sorry I doubted ya, Joe!

What we have here is a pretty solid "scrappy suburban kids versus unspeakable evil" movie in the tradition of THE GATE, THE PEOPLE UNDER THE STAIRS, SILVER BULLET, THE MONSTER SQUAD, and FRIGHT NIGHT, among others.  This being 2013, its success is largely dependent on three important elements of faint praise which in an earlier era would not even need to be addressed:

#1.  The kids are not too annoying, airbrushed, or overly dull.


#2.  Bad CGI is kept to a minimum.

#3.  It tries for a sense of childlike wonder instead of corporate soullessness uncomfortably packaged as "cynicism."


[As a side note, I hold it in a higher regard than another recent, commercially successful film that attempted this vibe (SUPER 8), and though that film succeeded at #1 & #3, it failed miserably at #2, its third act revealing the "monster" and becoming a muddle of groan-inducing CGI reminiscent of the TRANSFORMERS films.]

I've always thought that the best kiddie fiction (from ALICE IN WONDERLAND to CORALINE) involves some combination of parallel dimensions and child abuse, and Dante delivers on both fronts, presenting a more mature children's piece.  It's not as good as GREMLINS or EERIE, INDIANA, sure, but it certainly tackles child abuse with a degree of empathy and sophistication that's not often seen– I was recalling the subtle hints toward Simon's abuse in EERIE, INDIANA, the bonds between the boys in EXPLORERS, and the childish sense of menace in Dante's segment of THE TWILIGHT ZONE: THE MOVIE.

A few other things I enjoyed:

Corman/Dante regular and film legend Dick Miller's wordless cameo as an eyebrow-raising pizza deliveryman:


The bits with the POLTERGEIST/TRILOGY OF TERROR/CAT'S EYE-inspired evil clown/jester doll, who, for the most part (thank God!) is a bona fide puppet:



The twisted, cartoonish vibe  of the sets in one sequence, which recall the best of Dante's TWILIGHT ZONE segment, THE CABINET OF DR. CALIGARI, and WHO FRAMED ROGER RABBIT:

And, hurrah: the generally deranged Bruce Dern shows up to chew on some scenery 

as some kind of steam-punk, Christopher Lloyd-ish light bulb enthusiast named Creepy Carl who utters foreboding dialogue such as "Nobody built the hole!  The hole has been there since the world's first scream!"

You tell 'em, Bruce!

Anyway, THE HOLE is not a masterpiece, but it's a fun kiddie-horror flick that proves Dante's still got some grit, guts n' gumption left in him, which is good enough for me.

-Sean Gill

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Film Review: INFERNO (1953, Roy Ward Baker)

Stars: 4 of 5.

Running Time: 83 minutes.

Notable Cast or Crew: Robert Ryan (BILLY BUDD, THE WILD BUNCH, THE DIRTY DOZEN), Rhonda Fleming (OUT OF THE PAST, SPELLBOUND), William Lundigan (PINKY, THE SEA HAWK), Larry Keating (MR. ED, WHEN WORLDS COLLIDE), Henry Hull (LIFEBOAT, HIGH SIERRA). Directed by Roy Ward Baker (A NIGHT TO REMEMBER, ASYLUM). Written by Francis M. Cockrell (RHUBARB, DARK WATERS).

Tag-line: "The wonder of 3-D STEREOPHONIC SOUND The marvel of 3-D Color by TECHNICOLOR ENHANCED A THOUSANDFOLD! The most breath-taking man hunt that ever criss-crossed out of the screen! YOU are trapped in the great Devil's Canyon of the Mojave Desert!"

Best one-liner: "Bartender, pull me a short deer!"



In a familiar alleyway, two rag-tag cineastes continue their eternal dialogue:



"Holy shit– I've just seen the damndest thing....a Robert Ryan movie in–"

–"So what, I've seen lots of Robert Ryan movies."

"Would you let me finish? A Robert Ryan movie...IN 3-D!!!"



–"3-D? What? Didn't Robert Ryan die prior to AVATAR? What, is it another 2011 Peckinpah reboot?"

"Shut that child's mouth of yours and listen to me for a minute. This is from the golden age of 3-D, and it's got class, dammit! Sure, it's occasionally got something flying straight into the lens, but above all this movie is about class. It stars Robert Ryan, for one."

–"Alright, tell me more."

"So Ryan plays a rich shitheel who's abandoned in the desert– with a broken leg and a less than intact sense of self– by his old lady and her new lover. Ryan must fight the elements to survive, and in the process, may or may not regain his inner worth as the chippy and her beau increasingly and concurrently lose theirs."

–"So it's a morality tale. I can't stand that shit."

"Ye gods! I'll speak and you'll listen! There may be ludicrous moral-dilemmas and rationalizing, backstabbin' shrews, but across the bleak desertscapes and equally barren human dwelling-places, Baker builds a characterscape of distracted modernity, a portrait of humanity whereupon we've forgotten how to humble ourselves, where none of us embrace the simple truth that it is absolutely impossible to feel important when you're stranded in the desert, up shit creek not only sans paddle, but with a broken leg, dust in your eyes, bugs in your teeth, and the infernal feeling that you're about to be created all over again by the indifferent, hazy anguish of an endless, godforsaken desert-god!



Enter Robert Ryan: laid out in the midst of the Mojave; he's outta booze and he's nearly outta bullets. So here begins his odyssey– the solitary man against impossible odds..."

–"So is it a silent movie, or is Ryan talkin' to himself?"



"Even better– Ryan delivers a genius, sardonic internal monologue throughout. His external performance possesses tremendous depth– Ryan really lets play out upon his face and body the realization that he's been abandoned to one of the most hideous deaths (dehydration and exposure followed by the carrion-eaters) in the Grim Reaper's bag-o'-tricks. His internal performance reveals a morbid sense of humor in the midst of it all, a twinkling of Robert Ryan smarminess, that kernel of jocularity that keeps him sane as he embarks on his journey."



–"Like what? Give me an example."

"Well, say, he comes across a cactus and muses 'Course that cactus is full of beer...,' begins munching on the contents, and intones 'It doesn't taste bad either! Like wet sawdust!'



Later, when going through his pockets, he withdraws a wad of currency. Flipping through the bills, he muses 'might start a fire with em.' When trying to set his broken leg between two boulders, he predicts 'This won't be jolly...' When running dangerously low on water, he takes the optimist's route: 'Fine time to be low on cigarettes...' It's all delivered with the sort of deadpan sarcasm that we're used to seeing Ryan lay down on the likes of gun-totin' punks in some film noir, but when it's turned inward, it takes on a different, even grander quality. While hunting deer he half-psychotically considers, 'Bartender– pull me a short deer!' This is just the sort of shit that's worth the price of admission alone."

–"So how does he survive? Is it like that novel HATCHET?"

"Christ, you don't get out much. Your idea of high culture is probably cruising the YA books-on-tape section at the local Goodwill."

–"Hey, I pick up some good stuff at those. BUNNICULA on two cassettes for only $1.50. But what I was asking was how Robert Ryan battles the elements."

"Well, I'm not gonna give anything major away, but two of the highlights include the following: Ryan shooting a rabbit only to have its corpse ferried off by an eager coyote, whereupon Ryan screams to the coyote (and to the heavens) 'That's my rabbit! THAT'S MY RABBIT!' Another is when Ryan chews on pebbles 'cause he seems to remember reading it in some survival guide someplace. A little research after the movie revealed that Ryan was right– apparently it tricks the mouth into thinking there's food in it, which maintains the flow of saliva, preventing the mouth from drying out too quickly, thus warding off thirst. Regardless, the entire incident only confirmed what I had long suspected: that Robert Ryan chomps rocks for breakfast."

–"Wait, though, how does the 3-D figure into this?"



"It's pretty understated, actually. The landscape is given a natural texture, and Baker allows us to sort of experience a genuine sort of vertigo at one point when foreground rock outcroppings are contrasted with the desert valley below. Often Ryan appears in 3-D against the landscape; it's an interesting visual contrast to how ill-at-ease the character is meant to feel. It remains understated, at least into the very end where some amazing late game gimmickry rears its crazed head– a lantern spirals directly into the screen, quite obviously propelled by a slow-moving invisible rope of some kind, and a fairly mind-blowing 3-D shot involving a raging inferno keeps the blood pumping till the end of the last reel.



And, like most 3-D films of the era that I've seen at the theater, there's a ridiculous intermission at the the halfway (40-minute) mark, which prompts spit- and popcorn-takes!) amongst the audience– we're just settling into the film in earnest when *BOOM*: Intermission."

–"Well, this sounds like a pretty good time."

"I knew you'd come around."

–"So how do I see it?"

"You can't."

–"Oh."

"Well, unless you stumble upon a repertory screening or some eclectic late-nite TV programming. I saw it at Film Forum in NYC. But maybe some archive collection or other will deem it fit to release (it was 20th Century Fox property, but that doesn't mean they've retained the rights). It's a good enough film to be seen in 2-D, 3-D, or whatever the hell format it happens to be in. Good luck."



-Sean Gill

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Film Review: A*P*E (1976, Paul Leder)

Stars: 4.5 of 5.

Running Time: 87 minutes.

Tag-line: "Ten tons of animal fury leaps from the screen"

Notable Cast or Crew: Rod Arrants (HELTER SKELTER, DALLAS), Joanna Kerns (GIRL INTERRUPTED, V, GROWING PAINS), Alex Nicol (THE MAN FROM LARAMIE, BLOODY MAMA, THE SCREAMING SKULL), Nak-hun Lee (INCHON), Yeon-jeong Woo (TARZAN IN KOREA). Directed by Paul Leder (father of Mimi Leder, director of 'Namsploitation classic MY FRIENDS NEED KILLING and the painful, latter-day Paul Bartel/Karen Black vehicle THE WACKY ADVENTURES OF DR. BORIS AND NURSE SHIRLEY).

Best one-liner: "The goddamn monkey's on his way back to Seoul!"

A*P*E. Those asterisks boggle the mind. They'd already swooped down to cash in on Dino de Laurentiis' KING KONG remake, so why the asterisks? Trying for some M*A*S*H fanbase crossover appeal? The official line is that it's an acronym for "Attacking Primate Monster," but you'll quickly note that if that was actually the case, it'd be called: "A.P.M." And don't blame the translation, cause this thing was an American's brainchild. If it makes you feel any better, we'll just think of it as the first in a long series of head-scratching non-sequiturs.

This Korean-American co-production begins with some sailors on a ship. Their stilted line delivery of completely inane dialogue (the A*P*E is en route to Disneyland?!) is a mini-masterpiece of muttonheaded panache. The A*P*E bursts forth ("Ohhhhh, shiiiiiit!"), wrestles a dead shark for three minutes (á la Lugosi in BRIDE OF THE MONSTER) and begins some context-free destruction of cardboard sets. The sheer lack of style is nearly avant-garde. And the suit is horrible. You can see the neck flap on the headpiece.

Note neck flap.

Occasionally the A*P*E's mouth moves as if he's talking, but no words issue forth.

Other times, he mews like a cat.

Our hero is a sixth-rate James Franciscus (wrap your head around that one),

and his movie-star girlfriend (the Fay Wray-type) is about as bland as a bowl of Malt-O-Meal.

Put 'em together, and I'd rather be watching Gary Busey and Holly Hunter gettin' steamy.

SCHLERP

There's an army Colonel (Alex Nicol) who thinks he's Sterling Hayden and spends the majority of the film on the phone, shouting colorful expressions like "The goddamn monkey's on his way back to Seoul!"

There are nearly as many pointless phone calls as in DEADLY WEAPONS.

The scale is WAYYY off. They keep remarking that the A*P*E is 36 feet tall, yet he towers over mountains and a two-story home.

Later, when he peeks in through a window, his head appears to be not much larger than a human's.

One scene sees either A. the A*P*E shrinking to the size of a man offscreen and battling a snake in a bush or B. the A*P*E battling a ginormous mutant snake (the one from HARD TICKET TO HAWAII?) in a ginormous mutant bush. That's kind of asking a lot.

There's lots of recycled, dubbed screaming and horrendous miniatures.

Hey at least it's not CGI

The pacing is excruciating. The music is this generic, half-assed 'Asian-style'... wait a second... is that TORGO'S THEME from MANOS?!? I think it is!

And did I mention that this thing is in 3-D? Five or six times, the same soldiers push their rifles straight into the lens.

Check out that smirk.

A man practices his breaking technique with a pool cue- you guessed it- right in our face.

A group of dudes does the 'ole battering ram routine'- straight at the camera!

The A*P*E flings the same boulder directly at the camera at least seven times. A flurry of flaming arrows *FOOOOSH* straight at our eyeballs!

Don't be embarrassed if you ducked

And, oddly, all the 3-D effects seem to be directed toward the right-hand side of the screen. Why?!

In one notorious sequence, yes, the A*P*E flips the bird.

He shows his appreciation for hang-gliding through playful, waggish applause:

He steps over a tiny cow:

And it all ends with some spurting blood, a sluggardly demise, and the tearful epitaph: "He was just too big for a small world like ours." Amen.

Something about the A*P*E's nipples makes me uncomfortable. Plus, this bears some resemblance to a certain demise in REVENGE OF THE NINJA.

Four and half goofy blood-garglin', bird-flippin', neck-flappin', cow-steppin' stars.

-Sean Gill

Junta Juleil's Summer '10 Movie Series
1. HELL IN THE PACIFIC (1968, John Boorman)
2. KUFFS (1992, Bruce A. Evans)
3. THE OUTFIT (1973, John Flynn)

4. FOR Y'UR HEIGHT ONLY (1981, Eddie Nicart)

5. A*P*E (1976, Paul Leder)

6. ...

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