Film Review: HEAVENLY BODIES (1984, Lawrence Dane)

Stars: 3.75 of 5.
Running Time: 90 minutes.
Notable Cast or Crew: Cynthia Dale (MOONSTRUCK, MY BLOODY VALENTINE), Richard Rebiere (ADVENTURES IN BABYSITTING, VISITING HOURS), Walter George Alton (Puma-man in PUMAMAN), Stuart Stone (BABAR, DONNIE DARKO). Music by The Tubes, Sparks, Bonnie Pointer, Dwight Twilley, Joe La Mont (who composed the Martian club music for TOTAL RECALL), and the Boys Brigade. Directed by Lawrence Dane (character actor from OF UNKNOWN ORIGIN, SCANNERS, BRIDE OF CHUCKY). Written by Dane and Ron Base (JESUIT JOE, WHITE LIGHT).
Tag-line: "She's reaching for the top, with everything she's got."
Best one-liner: "Good-bye love handles!"

How does one categorize HEAVENLY BODIES? Is it firm thigh-sploitation co-produced by Playboy? Is it a work of Canadian social realism? Is it a rip-off of FLASHDANCE? Is it a Golan-Globus-style underdog story? Or is it an instructional video designed so that you, too, may have a heavenly body, whether you like it or not! Well, it gives me pleasure to report that HEAVENLY BODIES is, in fact, all of these things.

First and foremost, it's the tale of three gutsy young women who were low on cash and high on enthusiasm. They founded their own aerobics studio in a converted warehouse space and inspired the masses to escape the drudgery of their own sepia-toned existences by dancercising their way to a better life, like so:

Becoming something of a local celebrity, Samantha Blair (Cynthia Dale) is a hard-strivin' single mom and the leader of the outfit.

Perhaps her jubilant face/crotch-thrusting combo was the inspiration for Jamie Lee Curtis' in PERFECT?

She navigates a burgeoning romance with an aerobics-luvin' football player who's all about commitment and adoption.

Things are going pretty well, and Samantha even lands herself a local TV gig, but then the ALL ABOUT EVE claws come out, and she finds herself drawing the ire of a bitchy competitor (Laura Henry) and her sleazy manager played by poor man's Rob Lowe and PUMAMAN star, Walter George Alton.

A corporate takeover and an eviction notice later, Samantha must face off against her nemeses and win back her lease through the contrivance of a catty 'dance till you drop' aerobics marathon, much to the delight of audiences everywhere.

"I have a degree in physical fitness- I was first in my class!"


"How does it feel being an asshole?"

In short, it's the kind of story that's so intense, so specific, so emotional, so searing, that the maker poured his entire creative heart and soul into it. It's a story that only one person on Earth could tell. It's the lone writer/director credit for:

Lawrence Dane, Canadian character actor and part-time aerobics/romance/underdog story enthusiast. And how does he spin his tale? With remarkable economy, kitchen sink realism, and a genuine sense of fun. Say what you will about this film, but it's got a certain joie de vivre- you can tell that everyone involved is having one hell of a time. Combined with a low budget sincerity (which at times reminded me of the superior Canadian tax shelter film, OUTRAGEOUS), it makes for an ultimately likable picture.

It must also be mentioned, as in many films of this type, the same few songs are repeated throughout, again and again and again. This holds especially true in a film whose denouement involves a sweaty, nine-hour dance contest.

"Keep on workin'/Keep on workin'/Keep on workin'/Keep on workin'"


"Breakin' out of prison/Breakin' out of prison/Keep on workin' you can never stop"


"Work you body/Work your body/Work your body/Work your body"


"Out of control/out of control/out of control/out of control"

Simply poetry. Somehow- let's say nearly four stars.

-Sean Gill

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Cannon Films at Lincoln Center!

O boy, o boy, o boy–
Lincoln Center (in NYC) is presenting a Cannon Films retrospective from November 19-24, screening such legendary specimens of cinema as THE APPLE, BARFLY, RUNAWAY TRAIN, CASTAWAY, 52 PICK-UP, KING LEAR, LOVE STREAMS, OPERATION THUNDERBOLT, SHY PEOPLE, STREET SMART, THE TEXAS CHAINSAW MASSACRE 2, TOUGH GUYS DON'T DANCE, and TREASURE ISLAND. All the details you need are HERE. (Unfortunately, DEATH WISH III, BREAKIN', EXTERMINATOR 2, DELTA FORCE, nor SALSA are on the programme.)

But the icing on the cake is this: Golan and Globus themselves, in person will preside over select screenings, as will Barbet Schroeder, Jerry Schatzberg, and a few others. (I guess G&G patched things up!) Clearly, this just made my year. I will be there at as many screenings as possible and I will be wearing my Cannon films attire- this is certain. But whether or not I will ask a question at the Q&A about G&G's storied '89 tiff and subsequent dueling LAMBADA movies remains to be seen. And did I mention that after THE APPLE screening, Golan is hanging out for a disco dance party? Get your tickets now: for those not in the NYC area– this might be worth a road trip.

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Film Review: THE EXORCIST III: LEGION (1990, William Peter Blatty)

Stars: 4.5 of 5.
Running Time: 110 minutes.
Notable Cast or Crew: George C. Scott, Brad Dourif, Jason Miller (actor in THE EXORCIST & RUDY, playwright), Ed Flanders (SALEM'S LOT, SPECIAL BULLETIN), Nicol Williamson (EXCALIBUR, RETURN TO OZ), Nancy Fish (KISS KISS BANG BANG, DEATH BECOMES HER), Grand L. Bush (DIE HARD, Balrog in STREET FIGHTER THE MOVIE, LETHAL WEAPON), Scott Wilson (IN THE HEAT OF THE NIGHT, THE WAY OF THE GUN, DEAD MAN WALKING). Cameos by Fabio, Patrick Ewing, Samuel L. Jackson, Larry King, C. Everett Koop.
Tag-line: "Do you dare walk these steps again?"
Best one-liner: "I still hear from her occasionally, screaming. I think the dead should shut up, unless there's something to say."

Way classier than any movie with the number '3' after it has any right to be, THE EXORCIST III: LEGION is an elegant character study and an unpretentious rumination on the nature of evil. EXORCIST novelist William Peter Blatty takes hold of the series' reins (after first offering them to John Carpenter!) and wisely proceeds as if part 2 had never happened. George C. Scott takes over as Kinderman (Lee J. Cobb's troubled cop from part 1) and plays him with case-hardened aplomb.

Every last detail of his performance is carefully fleshed out– his monologue on the carp in his bathtub; his weary manner of breathing when confronted with the supernatural; the way he lifts the corpse's sheet twice at every crime scene, then furtively looks at his hands to see if he's somehow sullied– the weight of it all plays effortlessly upon his face.

The bulk of the film takes place at a hospital, whose blue-lit, cavernous hallways and foreboding silences nearly transform the building itself into a character.

There's a visually impressive dream sequence with shades of Argento (and cameos by the likes of Patrick Ewing, Samuel L. Jackson, and Fabio!);



a terrific turn by Scott Wilson as a chain-smoking doctor; and a few genuinely FREAKY moments, the most notorious of which is a mini-masterpiece of pacing, tension, and (snip!) payoff.

Then there's Brad Dourif. As a mysterious patient in a secure, isolated ward, Dourif’s interpretation is breathtaking. The hair-raising scenes between Dourif and Scott play out like pieces of classical theater.

With each figure illuminated only by stark shafts of light, the two butt heads with great eloquence, spiral into the realm of the occult, and ultimately toe that fine line between lucidity and madness.


To see these two men (who are talented in such wildly disparate ways) square off against one another with such panache is an absolute treat. In all, it’s a significant work which transcends the schlocky origins of its ‘sequel status.’ Four and a half stars.


-Sean Gill

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R.I.P.- Dino De Laurentiis

He had a hand in everything from BLUE VELVET to CONAN THE BARBARIAN; from Ingmar Bergman films to Robert Altman ones; from LA STRADA to ORCA; from BARBARELLA to Bronson. He's passed away today at the age of 91.

In tribute– here's some of the coverage I've given to De Laurentiis' films- that he's produced, executive produced, or simply presented:

MANHUNTER
THE WHITE BUFFALO
THE SHOOTIST
SILVER BULLET
MAXIMUM OVERDRIVE
DEATH WISH
BODY OF EVIDENCE
RED DRAGON
THE STONE KILLER

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Film Review: EXORCIST II: THE HERETIC (1977, John Boorman)

Stars: 2.8 of 5.
Running Time: 118 minutes.
Notable Cast or Crew: Linda Blair (ROLLER BOOGIE, THE EXORCIST), Richard Burton (THE KLANSMAN, THE SPY WHO CAME IN FROM THE COLD), Louise Fletcher (BRAINSTORM, ONE FLEW OVER THE CUCKOO'S NEST), Max von Sydow (THE ICE PIRATES, THE SEVENTH SEAL), Ned Beatty (STROKER ACE, DELIVERANCE), James Earl Jones (SOUL MAN, STAR WARS), Paul Henreid (OPERATION CROSSBOW, CASABLANCA), Kitty Winn (KOJAK, THE PANIC IN NEEDLE PARK). Music by Ennio Morricone (RED SONJA; THE GOOD, THE BAD, AND THE UGLY). Tap Dance Routine choreographed by Daniel Joseph Giaghi (PENNIES FROM HEAVEN).
Tag-line: "It's four years later...what does she remember?"
Best one-liner: "If he can teach me how he has survived Pazuzu... I'll come back and let you know."

Where to begin? The acting talent is astonishing- of the seven principal players, six have been nominated for (or have won) Oscars. The seventh, Kitty Winn, had won Best Actress at Cannes. The director, John Boorman, had a history of accomplished, edgy work from POINT BLANK to HELL IN THE PACIFIC to DELIVERANCE. So where did we go wrong? Well, two things in particular:

#1. EXORCIST II is playing a high-stakes poker game with the audience. And it's betting the farm on a little lady named Linda Blair, which you'll soon realize was something of a mistake. What everyone thought was a genius, new acting talent from the first EXORCIST was mostly just the voice of Mercedes McCambridge and the astonishing special effects. In the meantime, Blair had unfortunately become something of a King Midas in reverse… but, hey, she still does a mean tap-dance. More on that in a minute.

#2. Looks like John Boorman kept Richard Burton sober. Another big mistake. He plays nearly every scene with an infantile, bewildered grimace- the subtext is "Goddamn you for taking away my gin stash!" He's pronouncing "evil" with three syllables- "Eee-vee-ill." This man is tortured.

"When the wings have brushed you...is there no hope once the WINGS HAVE BRUSHED YOU!!!" Hand this man a flask, for the love of God!

"Where'd you put my stash, John? I won't be cross with you if you give it back, straightaway. I don't even want it all- just a fifth of the best gin. How's about a Gin Rickey, John? Just one Rickey. Then we'll get back to the film. Just a quick snifter, John. John?"


"Oh, I'll buy it back, John! I'll give you all the gold 'n silver in all the world, John! I'll do the picture gratis, John! Whaddya say? Just a quick Pimm's cup! It's all I need, John- just a little Pimm's to keep me going."


"You want some shite acting for your shite film, John?! By all the saints, I'll give it to, you bloody bastard! All's I wanted was some Pimm's, you divvy git! Why, now I'll take this Pazuzu fellow and cock up your picture!"

Anyway, there's some shit with amnesia and synchronized hypnosis,


and, wait- if Linda Blair can see into the future, then why doesn't she use that knowledge to prevent ROLLER BOOGIE from happening?

Then there's this tantalizing bit from the credits: "Tap Dance Routine choreographed by Daniel Joseph Giaghi." If you're anything like me, such an absurd statement will excite and intrigue. 'What can we put in Part 2 that we didn't have in Part 1?' Clearly the answer is a tap-dance routine. And not just a tap-dance routine– a psychedelic tap-dance collective seizure attack:

Dit-dat duh duh

Clickety-clackety-clickety-clack

EEEEEYEEOOOOOWWWW

YUHH-UHHHH-UHHH

Truly, it's the little things that keep ya going.

So, EXORCIST 1 had the head-spin, the vomit, and the inappropriate use of a crucifix. EXORCIST 2 has the tap-dance seizure, the locust POV shot,

and the rock crevice plummet. But there's some good stuff going on, too. Ennio Morricone's score is in turns funny, primal, epic, thumpin', and, on at least one occasion lends unexpected weight to a scene involving a locust attack. Boorman makes some bold stylistic and editing decisions, a few of which (trippy hallucinations

and a jarring self-immolation sequence) work quite well. On the whole, it kinda feels like a weird, arty horror retread of those terrible old Republic serials. It never quite bores and never quite entertains. Almost three stars- why not?.

-Sean Gill

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Film Review: NEAR DARK (1987, Kathryn Bigelow)

Stars: 4 of 5.
Running Time: 94 minutes.
Notable Cast or Crew: Directed by Kathryn Bigelow (THE LOVELESS, THE HURT LOCKER, POINT BREAK). Written by Bigelow and Eric Red (THE HITCHER, BODY PARTS). Music by Tangerine Dream. Starring Adrian Pasdar (SOLARBABIES, TOP GUN), Jenny Wright (PINK FLOYD'S THE WALL; I, MADMAN), Lance Henriksen (ALIENS, THE PIT AND THE PENDULUM), Bill Paxton (TRUE LIES, ALIENS), Tim Thomerson (DOLLMAN, TRANCERS), Joshua John Miller (TEEN WITCH, RIVER'S EDGE). Cinematography by Adam Greenberg (THE TERMINATOR, 10 TO MIDNIGHT, 3 MEN AND A BABY).
Tag-line: "Killing you would be easy, they'd rather terrify you...forever."
Best one-liner: "Caleb, those people back there, they wasn't normal. Normal folks, they don't spit out bullets when you shoot 'em, no sir." (Later paraphrased in FROM DUSK TILL DAWN.)

I'm sure a fair amount of you have seen NEAR DARK. For those who haven't, it's a two-fisted, shit-kickin' vampire Western that sort of combines all of my favorite things about THE LOST BOYS, Carpenter's VAMPIRES, and POINT BREAK. It slits your throat with a sharpened spur, sears your skin, and explodes in a grotesque display of vampiric immolation. Now, with that in mind, take a gander at the DVD re-release cover:

Sweet God- my worst fears realized- NEAR DARK appropriated by the lily-livered aficionados of TWILIGHT, CGI, and unbridled airbrushing! But it doesn't matter– here's nine reasons why, even if it's remade and/or commandeered by these knuckleheads, NEAR DARK will still live on as an 80's genre classic:

#1. The vampires' mode of travel: a beat-up, nasty old Recreational Vehicle.

There's no sugar-coating their nomadic, hand-to-fang, poverty-stricken existence. They cruise around in a pedophile-mobile with blacked-out windows cause they've got no other choice. No Gothic mansions, no Ann Ricey-TWILIGHTY-romanticized shenanigans- it's a daily struggle for survival that's closer to Buñuel's LAND WITHOUT BREAD or Marc Singer's DARK DAYS than some TRUE BLOOD wankfest. And the RV says it all.

#2. Hey, look, it's a James LeGros cameo!

If you can't appreciate the simple joy of an unexpected LeGros appearance, maybe you don't deserve to enjoy NEAR DARK. And Bigelow even spares him in the midst of a vampire rampage, thus continuing to prove my theory that anybody and everybody worth their salt has a soft spot for LeGros.

#3. The Tangerine Dream score. While on the whole it's not one of their very best scores (like their work on THIEF, FLASHPOINT, or THE PARK IS MINE), certain tracks- like "Bus Station"- possess a certain, fleeting atmospheric quality, like an entrancing invitation to a dangerous fairy-tale world. In short, it's the kind of music that, even though it's looping endlessly on the DVD menu, oddly, it doesn't bother you. In fact, you're looking for an excuse not to start the movie, cause you'd kind of like to listen to Tangerine Dream for just a little longer if ya don't mind.

#4. Tim Thomerson. Undervalued. Underused. Under-recognized.

And here in the kind of mainstream, stalwart, square-jawed, all-American farmer role he should have been booking more often. He's likeable, believable, and deserves to be a household name. And not just in Charles Band's household. Perhaps I exaggerate, but come on, let's hear it for Thomerson.

#5. Bill Paxton is loopier than a corkscrew.

I think that the critical acclaim for a show such as BIG LOVE has made the world, to some
extent, forget that Paxton made his name as one of the zaniest hombres this side of the Marx Brothers.

"I hate 'em when they ain't been shaved!" he laments (as he slurps the blood from an unkempt, hirsute biker). He dances, he prances, he lacerates necks with a sharpened spur. He blows air kisses, blows people away with a six-gun, and shouts "Bullseye!" afterwards. Why a vampire would need to resort to firearms is anybody's guess, but Paxton makes it so you don't really care so long as he keeps twirlin' em and verbalizin' his smart-assed remarks.

Something to ponder: are these the same pleather pants that reappear in BOXING HELENA?

"Finger-lickin' good!" he declares after a particularly fiendish bout of blood-drinking.

Bravo, Paxton. Bravo.

#6. Joshua John Miller. AKA 'The Creepy Kid from RIVER'S EDGE and TEEN WITCH. Other than David Bennent, I'm unsure I can think of anyone more qualified to play the role of 'irascible, centuries old vampire trapped in a child's body.'

#7. Adam Greenberg's cinematography.

Bigelow- via her then-paramour, James Cameron- had already got her hands on Paxton and Henriksen, so why not raid his DP, as well? Bigelow, originally a painter, has always been able to extract striking images from her cinematographers, and the magnificent visuals here are dusty, weather-beaten, and severe. And since I already mentioned that Bigelow was a painter, I'll also mention that her first studio was in an Off-Track Betting building. That's what NEAR DARK is, in a nutshell. Crude yet painterly visions transmitted directly from the scrap-paper and cigarette-butt strewn floors of an OTB. Print that in the paper.

#8. The way the vamps burn.

More like the spontaneous combustion of a back-alley wino than a poetic end to an aristocratic villain, the slow-motion searing and flaying of skin and the blackening of their shabby, smoldering rags makes for quite a memorable, mesmerizing visual despite the grotesquery, even though I'm not sure if grotesquery is, in fact, a real word.

#9. Lance Henriksen.

Gaunt, heavily scarred, possessing a wicked rat-tail, and at one point explaining that he's a Civil War veteran ("I fought for the South. We lost."), Henriksen is, as always, scary good. "Your skin is as soft as a preacher's belly," he can be heard to declare with the sort of impassive malevolence that defines his performance. His character, Jesse Hooker, is a sort of 'bottom line' kinda guy. He's not evil per se (although, uh, it is insinuated that he set the Great Chicago Fire of 1871), he just happens to look out for number one in such a way that he leaves a trail of massacred innocents and general sleazy vampire wreckage in his wake, wherever he goes, whenever he goes. He also cheekily spits up the bullets he's been shot with and uses them to taunt his adversaries.

Lance Henriksen: certainly deserving a place in the vampire hall-of-fame.

Four stars.

-Sean Gill

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