The Girl Who Knew Too Much: Mario Bava

When later asked about his film The Girl Who Knew Too Much, director Mario Bava responded that he did not regard it fondly. In addition to being “preposterous,” he mentioned that it left such an insignificant impression on him that he couldn’t even remember the actors who played the leads. “Perhaps it could have worked with James Stewart and Kim Novak,” he remarked. Yes, maybe if he had the same actors as Alfred Hitchcock’s Vertigo (1958) the film would have been more famous. But as it stands, The Girl Who Knew Too Much is seen by many critics as a technically accomplished but insignificant entry in Bava’s oeuvre. And, in many respects, the film’s lukewarm reception isn’t unwarranted. The story is clumsy, rife with inappropriate (and ineffective) comic relief, and greatly overshadowed by the cinematography. And yet, The Girl Who Knew Too Much may very well be one of the most important horror films in history. Why? Because it served as a bridge between the horror of Hitchcock and Hollywood and the future of Italian horror, a much beloved and often imitated genre known simply as the “giallo.”

Giallo, the Italian word for “yellow,” is a term used to describe a series of mystery novels published by Mondadori in the late 1920s which boasted bright yellow covers. As the series became more popular, other publishers mimicked Mondadori’s marketing techniques until the term giallo became synonymous with the mystery genre. The term continued to evolve when giallo stories were adapted for the cinema. And, indeed, The Girl Who Knew Too Much was the very first giallo: a film hybrid mixing the mystery, horror, and thriller genres. Bava would further define the giallo with Blood and Black Lace (1964), a film which introduced extremely graphic and stylized violence (almost always committed against beautiful women) and an iconic black disguise donned by the narrative’s main killer. However, Blood and Black Lace’s contributions to the genre were mostly visual. It was The Girl Who Knew Too Much that would establish the traditional giallo narrative structure.

Much as the film’s title would suggest, The Girl Who Knew Too Much was heavily influenced by the work of Alfred Hitchcock. It centers around a young American woman named Nora who travels to Rome in order to meet her aunt. However, almost immediately after she arrives she finds herself in the middle of a terrible murder plot. First, her aunt dies when she goes to see her. Next, she is mugged in the Piazza di Spagna. And finally, she witnesses a bearded man murder a young woman and drag her body away before she can alert the authorities. There are two very Hitchcock-esque traits to be found in these opening scenes. First, Nora is an innocent woman thrown into violent circumstances beyond her control. In Hitchcock’s films, this frequently manifested itself as the Wrongly Accused Hero plot archetype. Second, whenever Nora tries to tell people about what she saw, she is dismissed or ignored. Together, these create a perverse atmosphere of paranoia and dread; a sense that the world is cruelly and deliberately conspiring against the protagonist.

After the attack, Nora decides to independently pursue the truth surrounding that terrible murder. A devoted reader of mystery novels (we see her reading one on the plane to Italy) the likes of which inspired the film to begin with, she starts her own investigation. Along the way, she makes several allies: Dr. Marcello Bassi, the man who had been caring for Nora’s aunt, Laura Torrani, one of her aunt’s dear friends who lets her stay in her house, and an investigative reporter named Landini who had been investigating a series of murders attributed to the “Alphabet Killer,” a serial killer known for picking out victims with names in alphabetical order (“A” -- Gina Abbart, “B” -- Maria Beccati, “C” -- Emily Craven). However, it doesn’t take long for her snooping to catch the attention of unwanted parties. She receives an ominous phone call that says, “D is for death.” Nora’s last name? Davis.

Watching The Girl Who Knew Too Much, I was struck by how often Bava mimicked Hitchcock’s cinematographic techniques. The film’s black and white photography was obviously largely inspired by Hollywood film noir’s high-contrast, expressionist cinematography. But Bava seems to transform the camera itself into an omnipresent character. One shot in particular reminded me of the famous Sebastian mansion tracking shot in Notorious (1946): when Laura first invites Nora into her home, the camera tracks them as move through the rooms before breaking away from the two women and zooming in on the doors of Laura’s husband’s locked study. Then, via an unfortunate smash edit, it continues to zoom in until it focuses on a picture of Laura’s husband. While much of the rest of the film’s blocking, framing, and camera movements are highly subjective and reflect Nora’s state of mind, this shot is an enigma. There are literally no characters nearby who could be seeing what the audience is witnessing. This shot is from the camera’s point of view and exists for the benefit of the audience. In a stylistic flourish that Hitchcock frequently indulged in and practically perfected, the audience is transformed from fellow spectators into voyeurs.

And, essentially, voyeurism is at the heart of giallo. As the genre would evolve, it would become more and more indulgent with its use of colors, sets, and murder scenes. Red herrings, like some of the plot cul-de-sacs in The Girl Who Knew Too Much, would become a favored technique of giallo directors to keep its protagonists, and by extension the audience, misdirected and confused. Why were so many giallo victims women? Probably because, on a very primal and unspeakable level, killing a beautiful woman is like smashing a stained glass window with a rock. Both are destructive acts, but they are impossible to look away from. We take perverse pleasure in watching such corruption and annihilation. Where did this sense of voyeurism come from? Hitchcock. And in between Hitchcock and giallo is Mario Bava. Or, more specifically, The Girl Who Knew Too Much.

7/10

Date Night: Shawn Levy

Yes, yes, I'll fully admit that I wasn't looking forward to watching Shawn Levy's Date Night. I remember thinking, "A romantic comedy starring Steve Carell and Tina Fey by the guy who directed the 2006 reboot of The Pink Panther? I'll pass." But much to my surprise, Date Night is a very sweet, very sincere, very smart, and, most crucially, very funny film. It's funny, but the plot of this film reminds me of Anthony Mann's Side Street (1950), a film noir where a good man's life is turned upside down because of a momentary lapse of judgement where he stole something that he thought was insignificant. In Side Street, it was an envelope that the protagonist thought had $200 inside but actually contained $30,000 worth of blackmail money. In Date Night, it's a reservation at one of Manhattan's finest restaurants by the Fosters, a weary New Jersey married couple who want just one special night together so they can recapture the romance that they have been missing. However, they didn't just steal any reservation, they stole the reservation of a couple who had been blackmailing one of the city's crime lords. There are other fascinating comparisons between Date Night and film noir: a very convoluted plot involving corruption and crime, protagonists disillusioned by middle class life, and a dangerous city that hides villains and monsters behind every tree and in every dark alley. I was very impressed by how smart the central story was. The film manages to find very simple solutions to rather bothersome plot holes that seem to plague these kinds of movies. Why don't the Fosters go to the police? Well, they do. It's just that almost as soon as they arrive they discover that two of the policemen stationed there are crooked cops that had tried to kill them. Why don't they stay in crowded areas? Well, they do. That just doesn't stop the bad guys from trying to kill them. Even the stereotypical car chase scene at the end comes about organically from the story instead of from a producer's desire for another action beat. It also helps that I haven't seen an onscreen couple with such great chemistry as Steve Carell and Tina Fey in a long time.

8/10

Side Street: Anthony Mann

Side Street may be my favorite film noir by Anthony Mann, not necessarily because it's the best or the smartest, but because it examines a trope that I dearly love: a good man making a simple mistake. We like Joe Norson, a part-time NYC mail carrier who recently lost his gas station and has to live with his in-laws. All he wants is to be able to provide for his very pregnant wife, Ellen, but times are hard and working as a mail carrier just isn't doing the trick. So, although we may disapprove, we can certainly emphasize with Joe when he has a moment of weakness and steals what he thinks is $200 from the office of one of his clients. Unbeknownst to him, the envelope he stole actually contained $30,000 of blackmail money. So Joe, being a likeable fellow, tries to do the right thing and return the money. Too bad the man he stole from was a corrupt attorney. Even worse, he doesn't believe Joe's story. After scaring Joe out of his office, the attorney orders his goons to find the money, no matter how many innocent people get hurt or killed in the process. Side Street is a remarkably gritty film that manages to truly get under your skin. As previously mentioned, Joe is an honest guy who made a simple mistake. In a way, his story serves as a grim opposite of the wrongly accused protagonist trope that Alfred Hitchcock loved so dearly. Joe is very definitely guilty. But his punishment doesn't match the crime. And that, in my opinion, makes him much more compelling than Richard Hannay or Roger O. Thornhill.

8/10

The Great Gatsby: Baz Luhrmann

When it comes to art, sometimes near misses are more intriguing than complete realizations of an artist's intent. And that's what Baz Luhrmann's The Great Gatsby is: a near miss. Here is a film that believes in itself, its actors, its message, and its production values. But it ultimately fails to coalesce into a coherent whole. The Great Gatsby is a film supported solely by the power of its actors. I've never been the biggest fan of Leonardo DeCaprio, an actor that I've always felt excelled at imitating characters but never truly inhabiting them. But the film's eponymous socialite seems like the role he was born to play. And, honestly, a large part of that is that he's never onscreen long enough for his performance to sway off into the awkward valley that so many of his roles crash into. Carey Mulligan and Joel Edgerton are fantastic as Daisy and Tom Buchanan. The only role that I felt was woefully miscast was Tobey Maguire as Nick Carraway. He seems to have forgotten that the film, despite its deliberately anachronistic soundtrack and production design, was still a period piece and that mumbling his lines like a bored Marlon Brando doesn't work for a character living in the Roaring Twenties. Other than the acting, everything else about The Great Gatsby falls apart. With the exception of maybe one apartment, one office, and the homes of the inhabitants of West Egg, every single set looks like it was filmed on a cheap sound-stage and smothered with CGI in an attempt to hide the seams (Gatsby's infamous parties are inundated with CGI confetti and streamers). But, in the end, I applaud The Great Gatsby. I admire its audaciousness and willingness to take creative chances. Too bad they didn't work.

6/10

Pain & Gain: Michael Bay

I have two sacred rules when it comes to reviewing films:

1) Every film deserves a fair chance and the benefit of the doubt before and while viewing.
2) A film should be judged based on its own merits, not by how it compares to other films.

By following these two rules, I have come to the conclusion that Michael Bay's Pain & Gain is a fantastic film and easily his best work yet. I have always had a...bumpy...relationship with Bay. I've always felt that with his excess, over-reliance on CGI, and offensive writing that he has long represented the very worst of what American cinema has to offer. But in Pain & Gain we see Bay's style finally being matched with a story that actually benefits it. The (regrettably) true story of three bodybuilders who try and extort money from one of the customers who goes to their gym is so incredulous, so far-fetched, and so insane that only Michael Bay could bring it to the big screen. Everything that detracts from his other films works in Pain & Gain. The grotesque gags that are such a trademark of Bay's films seem like exaggerated projections of the characters' inner feelings: when we are with the bodybuilders, everyone looks super-fit and scantily-clad women constantly flash the camera. When we are with the victim, everything takes on an air of desperation and disgust, such as when he witnesses a morbidly obese hospital patient defecate all over a bathroom. I can't emphasize enough how this film only works because of two things: the fact that it is a true story and the fact that it was directed by Michael Bay. So, to Mr. Bay, I offer my congratulations. Now keep it up, sir.

8/10

Alambrista!: Robert M. Young

Over the years I've found that one of the biggest challenges facing film-makers is striking the right balance between sentimentality and organic emotion. As a film-going culture, we seem to have developed an attitude that believes that happy endings reside in the realm of fantastical escapism. Happy endings may be all right for comedies, action films, and animation, but a film-maker's credibility can suddenly be challenged if more serious dramas end on a positive note. Robert M. Young's Alambrista! is one of those rare films that manages to have a very, very happy ending without it seeming forced or contrived. The film follows a Mexican laborer who illegally immigrates to the United States in order to earn more money for his family. He makes and loses friends, jobs, and even loves along the way before coming to the final realization that being with his family is more important than any form of material wealth. And, yes, that is a rather ordinary story. And, yes, I did just spoil the ending. But Alambrista! is a film about the journey, not the destination. Filmed with a careful, almost neorealist eye, the film is fascinated by how the protagonist eats, sleeps, escapes police, and travels. And yet, at no point does any of this seem unnecessary, boring, or tedious. A great director and cinematographer can electrify anything with their camera. And from the magnificent opening tracking shot of a small stream of water rolling through a Mexican farm, Alambrista! mesmerizes with its beauty, simplicity, honesty, and naturalistic optimism.

9/10

Europa '51: Roberto Rossellini

Much like Fyodor Dostoyevsky's novel The Idiot, Roberto Rossellini's Europa '51 attempts to ask the question of what would happen to a real-life saint in modern society. Taking inspiration from the life of Saint Francis of Assisi, Rossellini directs his camera towards Irene, a wealthy woman living in post-World War II Rome. Completely oblivious to the true suffering surrounding her, Irene's life is shattered after her young son accidentally dies while trying to get her attention. After being bedridden with grief for 10 days, she is taken by a Communist friend to one of Rome's many slums and suggests that she devote her efforts to helping others truly less fortunate. This transforms Irene into a force of righteous agape, using her influence and money to help the sick, poor, and underprivileged. However, she is viewed as insane by her family and friends. Her husband suspects that she is having an affair and leaves her. Eventually she is institutionalized for her behavior. This all seems very emotionally manipulative, but Rossellini gives his characters time to grow and evolve so that when they reach an emotional turning-point, we are right there beside them. I noticed some suspect film and sound edits that made me wonder whether or not I was watching a slightly corrupted copy of the film. But despite these occasional hiccups, Europa '51 is a pure cinematic epiphany.

9/10

First Spaceship on Venus: Kurt Maetzig

For all its camp, Kurt Maetzig's First Spaceship on Venus is a triumph of both production design and ambition. The visuals, technology, and science may be terribly outdated, but they are presented with such sincere earnestness that endearment is inevitable. After the discovery of a piece of alien technology in the Gobi desert, mankind launches a spaceship helmed with an international crew for Venus, the planet that they believe it originated from. And, lo and behold, they discover the ruins of a once mighty civilization that had been planning to conquer the earth before accidentally destroying themselves with nuclear weapons. After one of the astronauts accidentally triggers the doomsday weapon the Venusians were planning on using against earth, they must disarm it before it spells doom for the cosmos. The entire film is drenched in a heavy Eastern bloc aesthetic (being an East German/Polish collaboration) which, while making the film look artistically dated, gives the audience the impression of being truly submersed into a different world. The special effects and set designs have a distinct charm about them, as well. First Spaceship on Venus is a delightful 60s sci-fi gem.

6/10

Psych-Out: Richard Rush

When it comes to Hippie exploitation films, Richard Rush's Psych-Out is certainly one of the best. Unlike other examples of the genre like Roger Corman's The Trip (1967) which mistook general incoherence and incongruous narrative spontaneity as a means by which to depict the counter-culture, Psych-Out grounds itself with a simple story and well-defined characters. The film chiefly follows a deaf runaway named Jenny who travels to San Francisco's Haight-Ashbury district in order to find her brother who, unbeknownst to her, has gone off the deep end, become a drug-fueled "prophet," and renamed himself as the Seeker. Along the way she falls in with a struggling hippie band named "Mumblin' Jim" and Stoney, their curt, but well-meaning, guitarist. During their search they encounter a whole menagerie of colorful and burnt-out characters like a violent gang of pro-war thugs, one of Stoney's ex-band mates who has modeled himself as a kind of Native American/Hindu shaman/brahmin, and other human detritus of the counter-culture. The film boasts an incredible soundtrack courtesy of the Storybook, a wry yet satisfying performance by Jack Nicholson as Stoney, and a legitimately disturbing flashback scene that explains the cause of Jenny's deafness. Psych-Out is a solid film and a helluva trip, man.

7/10

The Touch of Satan: Tom Laughlin, Don Henderson

Here's a lesson for everyone who worked on The Touch of Satan: just because you can put dramatic pauses in between every single line doesn't mean that you should. The Touch of Satan is a film so horrifically tepid that it is amazing that the creators managed to keep their actors awake during takes. It follows a young man nonchalantly cruising through the States (as teens in the 70s were apparently wont to do) who comes across a family of farmers with a terrible secret: they have been possessed by Satan! Well, more accurately, their two daughters who were almost lynched 100+ years ago became vessels for the Dark One in exchange for protection. However, one has been "blessed" with eternal "youth" while the other has been cursed to wither away seemingly indefinitely. There could be an interesting film made of such a story. Think Rosemary's Baby (1968) meets The Crucible (1996). But The Touch of Satan is painfully dull, dry, and boring. There are extended sequences where we watch characters drive down empty streets, walk through fields, put on their shoes, etc, etc. And none of these sequences add anything to the plot! They are merely filler to try and make the film reach a 90 minute run time. If there isn't enough story to make a feature-length movie, then maybe you shouldn't make a movie!!

4/10

It’s Alive: Larry Cohen

Do not mistake Larry Cohen's It's Alive for a schlocky horror film. Here is a film that demonstrates incredible skill in pacing, tone, and atmosphere in order to create a genuinely disquieting cinematic experience. The story of an unsuspecting Los Angeles couple who give birth to a deformed monstrosity that escapes from the hospital and embarks on a killing spree, It's Alive show remarkable restraint in not actually showing the titular monster. There are, of course, brief glimpses of the baby during attack scenes, but they are always just a few seconds long and usually obfuscated. No, Cohen isn't interested with filling the screen with random, excessive gore. This is a film about suspense. The first 13-14 minutes lull the audience into a domesticated stupor with naturalistic dialogue, believable characters, and a lilting pace. When the baby first attacks (an event that we don't actually see), we are jolted into nervous attentiveness. The idyllic setting inhabited by the characters, one firmly rooted in reality, has been violated by an otherworldly other. Many other horror films telegraph the fact that they are, well, horror films, in the first few minutes. It's Alive doesn't, thereby making things even more terrifying for the audience. Incredibly, the film doesn't reveal the baby at the end, either. Even Spielberg eventually showed the Shark. But this isn't a film about effects. This isn't a film about a killer baby. It's a film about the terrified parents who have to deal with their own monstrous creation. As a side note, keep an ear out for the Bernard Herrmann (yes, THAT Bernard Herrmann) soundtrack. It helps elevate an already fantastic film into greatness.

8/10

Iron Man 3: Shane Black

What the heck happened? The first two Iron Man movies, while nothing special, were entertaining in their own right. But Iron Man 3? This is just a bad, bad, bad, bad, bad movie. First off, it has almost the exact same plot as the first two films: Tony Stark is a lovable asshole who messes up, gets the people he cares about threatened by villains (specifically one ethnically charged baddie and the corporate CEO type that's REALLY pulling the strings), initially loses, then pulls himself back together in time to save the day. This was okay during the first film because Tony Stark was just becoming Iron Man. But three movies in? This is not a character arc that he should be having, let alone repeating for the third time! The plot is full of holes, so much so that I literally wrote an article listing the top ten worst. I know why people love this film: we get to see Robert Downey, Jr. be Tony Stark. And, yes, RDJ does a tremendous job bringing the character to life. But everything else about this film is terrible. It's an ugly film shot with an over-abundance of CGI (even for a blockbuster). The scene near the beginning with Stark's mansion is almost opaque with its over-use of reds, browns, and incoherent yellows. You can almost see where and when studio execs stuck their fingers into this film: we need a cute kid sidekick HERE, we need another comedic relief character HERE, we need more action HERE! At the end of the day, Iron Man 3 is not a film made by film-makers, but by studio execs. It's unpleasant and atrociously written. I will admit that the twist concerning the Mandarin was exactly the kind of thing that the comic book film genre needs to truly evolve and grow. But Iron Man 3 didn't earn it.

5/10

Eating Raoul: Paul Bartel

Paul Bartel's Eating Raoul is a short, succinct, and sinfully delightful black comedy about a prim and proper married couple who seduce, murder, and rob rich degenerates in order to fiance their dream of opening a restaurant. The couple, Paul and Mary Bland, come into this arrangement by chance after Mary accidentally kills a local swinger who tried to rape her. After realizing that this would be an easy, albeit messy and unpleasant, method of getting enough money (as well as a great method of revenge against the "perverts" and "degenerates" that they loathe), they begin their crime spree. However, things are complicated when their "business" is accidentally discovered by a locksmith/burglar named Raoul. But they set up an arrangement with Raoul wherein he "disposes" of the bodies (in reality selling them to a dog food company) for cash. There's just three problems. 1) Raoul doesn't tell the Blands that he is also selling their victims' cars and keeping all of that cash to himself. 2) Paul begins to suspect that Mary and Raoul are having an affair. 3) Mary and Raoul are totally having an affair. What happens? Well, let's just say that it is violent, dark, and absolutely hilarious. The film was directed by Paul Bartel (who also plays Paul Bland), who is also known for making Death Race 2000 (1975). Both films demonstrate his deadpan approach to outrageous settings and social situations: despite everything that goes on, the characters act like everything is normal. For instance, you may think that Paul and Mary might be freaked out by killing a rich pervert with a frying pan while dressed like Minnie Mouse. But they treat it as business as usual, despite the fact that they mention to each other how much they hate having to resort to such crimes to achieve their dream. In doing so, the film demonstrates a delirious disconnection of tone and content that solidify its status as a cult classic.

9/10

The Phantom Planet: William Marshall

I can't decide whether the makers of The Phantom Planet were honestly trying to do something great with the film despite their budgetary limitations or were simply attempting to add false gravitas to a thoroughly silly sci-fi B-film in the hopes that it would be mistaken for something "artsy." On the one hand, the film begins on a very sombre note with the death of one of the pilots of a United States Air Force space mission. After spouting out philosophical gobbledegook that makes the ending monologue from Roger Corman's It Conquered the World (1956) seem quaint and subtle, he drifts into space reciting the Lord's Prayer. These scenes are completely tonally dissonant from the rest of the film which follows the other pilot trying to survive after he is captured and shrunk to only a few inches high by the tiny residents of an asteroid. From there, he helps these creatures fight off an invasion of monsters all while wooing the affections of a mute local. The film is rather jarring in its abrupt transition from serious drama to campy sci-fi shlock. And yet, again, I still get the feeling that the director, William Marshall, was taking this project completely seriously and was trying to make...I dunno...some kind of statement. But that's just me, I suppose.

4/10

The Proposition: John Hillcoat

John Hillcoat's The Proposition is a stark vision of Australia's past that carries many similarities with the American Old West. Here, the encroachment of civilization is represented by Australian authorities, in particular Captain Stanley, who seek to bring order and justice to an untamed frontier. The infamous outlaws and gunslingers are here represented by the Burns brothers gang, a savage group of criminals who raped and murdered a frontier family. Stone-faced Native Americans are replaced by stoic Australian Aborigines, men who serve both as guides and adversaries to the forces of "justice." The film begins with the capture of two members of the Burns brothers gang, Charlie and his feeble-minded younger brother Mikey. Captain Stanley makes a deal with Charlie that if he can bring in his homicidal older brother, Arthur, before Christmas, he will let him and Mikey go free. From here the film splits into two narratives. The first follows Captain Stanley as he tries to keep the peace with his fragile wife, the local blood-thirsty townsfolk, and his corrupt superior. We gradually learn that Captain Stanley might be more noble than we were first led to believe. In fact, he soon becomes the only beacon of sanity in his community which begins to froth at the mouth with the desire to lynch Mikey. The second narrative follows Charlie as he tracks down Arthur and makes the impossible decision about whether or not to bring him in. Here is the only problem I find with the film: it tries to romanticize Arthur as a kind of noble maniac who gives speeches about how family is the most important thing in life. But I don't buy it. This is the film's only real failing. Everything else about The Proposition is masterfully executed. Also, the film must be given credit for having some of the best sound mixing and editing to grace the Western genre in years. Wait until you hear the hellish, metallic, locomotive howls of the Outback which seem to forewarn of treachery and doom. You'll know when you hear it.

8/10

Delta Force 2: The Colombian Connection: Aaron Norris

Now this is more like it! While the first Delta Force film was burdened with extreme tonal inconsistency, switching between sincere drama and Chuck Norris actionsploitation at a moment's notice, this sequel, Delta Force 2: The Colombian Connection, has no confusion about what kind of a movie it is. Quite simply, it is a pure-bred Chuck Norris extravaganza. After several DEA agents and his partner, Major Bobby Chavez, are brutally murdered by the sadistic Colombian drug lord Roman Cota, Colonel Scott McCoy (Norris) attempts to infiltrate his mansion, rescue a number of hostages, and bring Cota back alive. Norris' usual stoicism helps elevate McCoy from being just another 80s action beefcake to a legitimate character. If there actually was a special ops soldier capable of doing what McCoy does in this film, we can easily believe that he would act in a similar manner. The other high point of the film is the performance by Billy Drago as Cota. Even among other dickish 80s action villians, Cota ranks as one of the most twisted and evil. This is a man who personally executes Chavez's family (and pregnant wife) just for the hell of it after being released on bail from the police. This is a man who kills the husband and infant child of one of his slaves before raping her after she is unable to continue harvesting drugs. This is a man who sees unnecessary cruelty as its own reward. He doesn't just kill Chavez, he gasses him to death in a room with a plexiglass window so he can enjoy watching him die. Yes, his unusually grotesque antics are emotionally manipulative, but they are nevertheless effective. Not only is it a fun movie, but it is one of Norris' best.

7/10

The Delta Force: Menahem Golan

Menahem Golan's The Delta Force is quite an odd duck. Most of it is a gripping, emotionally exhausting retelling of the real-life hijacking of TWA Flight 847 in 1985. But it is also an action movie starring Chuck Norris and Lee Marvin about the U.S. Army Delta Force tasked with rescuing the hostages. To be fair, Golan manages both narratives individually quite well. The segments about the hijacking are tense, thrilling, and captivating. Scenes where the Islamic hijackers separate the Jewish passengers are a bit emotionally manipulative, however. But considering the fact that Golan is a native Israelite who fought in the Israeli War of Independence, these creative choices are somewhat understandable. The action scenes with Norris and Marvin are excellent and cheesy, as well. But here's the film's biggest problem: the two narratives don't blend. Clearly the hijacking scenes are meant to be taken seriously. But the action scenes are deliriously over-the-top in that special 80s Golan-Globus manner. Imagine if Schindler's List (1993) periodically cut to footage from Inglourious Basterds (2009). That's not to say that the film isn't entertaining or worth watching. But viewers should be warned that they are about to witness a disjointed, uneven film.

6/10

The Projected Man: Ian Curteis

While many of the greatest movie monsters are unknowable, unstoppable enigmas, I've always been drawn to the more tragic creatures. Frankenstein's monster is borne into a world that can never accept him, the Fly was the accidental creation of an earnest scientist, and Darth Vader (yes, he counts) was a good man led astray. Ian Curteis' The Projected Man also features a sympathetic villain: Dr. Paul Steiner. Much like Andre Delambre from Kurt Neumann's The Fly (1958), Dr. Steiner was a scientist seeking to perfect a method of matter transportation. However, after a horrific accident, Dr. Steiner was mutated into a sinister creature with an instantly fatal touch. But here's the kicker: Dr. Steiner's experiment was sabotaged by a rival who wanted to steal his research grant. While it can be argued that Dr. Steiner's hubris was mostly at fault for his accident, it cannot be denied that he is also a victim in his own right. While mediocre in other respects (everything appears to be shot through a yellow filter, the special effects and makeup are sub-par, and the transportation device looks like it was cobbled together from spare parts found under the prop guy's sink) the drama surrounding Dr. Steiner is sufficient to make The Projected Man a decent sci-fi B-movie.

5/10

The Adventures of Buckaroo Banzai Across the 8th Dimension: W. D. Richter

It's easy to see why a film like W.D. Richter's The Adventures of Buckaroo Banzai Across the 8th Dimension would inspire both confused derision from some and fanatical loyalty from others. On the one hand, it does almost nothing (save an opening text crawl) to introduce the audience to the strange world of Buckaroo Banzai. Characters like the eponymous hero, a physicist/neurosurgeon/test pilot/rock musician, the dastardly Lord John Whorfin, and Dr. Sidney Zweibel, a neurosurgeon/cowboy from New Jersey, are given little to no background or establishment. In fact, the attitude the film adopts towards the uninitiated borders on contempt. Make no mistake, The Adventures of Buckaroo Banzai Across the 8th Dimension is a fascinating film. But its unwillingness to ease viewers into its world is almost avant-garde. In my opinion, the film feels like an old Republic serial with the first 2 reels missing. But therein lies its charm, I suppose. To summarize the film's plot is madness. Suffice to say Buckaroo Banzai fights off inter-dimensional aliens, saves all mankind, and even squeezes in a kick-ass rock concert. I can't say that I am as enthusiastic about the film as many other people. But, nevertheless, I do admire its bravery.

6/10

Missing in Action 3: Aaron Norris

Third verse, same as the first. Aaron Norris' Missing in Action 3 continues the story of the most tragically beleaguered American serviceman in history: Colonel James Braddock (Chuck Norris). In the first movie, he had to break into Vietnam to rescue American POWs. In the second, he had to break out of Vietnam. Now, in this third movie, he has to do both. First, he has to break into Vietnam to rescue his wife (who he thought was killed during the Fall of Saigon) and his son (that he never knew he had). Unsurprisingly, after learning that Braddock, the inexplicably invincible and unstoppable killing machine responsible for humiliating their military and government twice, the North Vietnamese capture him, kill his wife, and torture his son. So, of course, he now has to break out of Vietnam along with the Reverend who operated the Mission that took care of Braddock's family and the dozens of other orphans under his care. So, yeah, there really isn't anything that new or groundbreaking in this film. Once again, Chuck Norris doesn't really act. Instead, he just sorta keeps his mouth shut so he can stare stoically and dramatically at the people around him. That worked in Missing in Action 2: The Beginning (1985) because for almost the entire movie he was a POW and had to project an aura of confidence and strength to keep his men motivated. But in this film, the stoicism wears thin, particularly during the scene where he first reunites with his long-lost wife and child. Instead of acting like, you know, a human being, Norris delivers his lines like an automaton. I will give this film credit where credit is due: I did like the opening with the Fall of Saigon. It did a fantastic job depicting the chaos and terror of an entire city self-imploding. Otherwise, this film is largely forgettable.

5/10

Missing in Action 2: The Beginning: Lance Hool

Lance Hool's Missing in Action 2: The Beginning really got to me. It bothered and disturbed me on a deeper level than films like I Spit on Your Grave (1978) and Cannibal Holocaust (1980). Why? Because...well...a lot of what is depicted in this film may have actually happened. Let me explain: the film is about a group of American POWs in North Vietnam. Their leader, Colonel James Braddock (Chuck Norris) is being blackmailed by the camp's commanding officer, Colonel Yin, into confessing to a list of phoney war crimes. To try and make him "confess," Colonel Yin resorts to a series of unspeakable tortures, both physical and psychological, to break Braddock and his men. These tortures take up the majority of the movie. Imagine if the Russian Roulette scene from The Deerhunter (1978) was stretched into a feature length film. This being a Golan/Globus production, we know that eventually Chuck Norris will break out, kill Yin, and save everyone. But the film takes such sadistic pleasure in watching him torment the POWs that it's essentially a rape/revenge film by way of the Vietnam war genre. And, yes, the Vietnamese characters are almost all presented as being completely bereft of redeeming qualities. But here's the kicker: I did some research on how real-life American POWs were treated in North Vietnam and discovered that Missing in Action 2 didn't exaggerate too much (at least for an 80s action film). Is a film like this jingoistic if such things really happened? Nobody seems to think that it's racist to depict Nazis as German. If this were a more "serious" movie by someone like Oliver Stone, would it be considered a masterpiece? Missing in Action 2 certainly left more of an emotional impact than any other film I've seen recently. Is the fact that it's a Golan/Globus Chuck Norris vehicle keeping it from getting the attention that it deserves? I don't know. But I do know that forgetting about this film is an impossibility.

6/10

Bikini Island: Tony Markes

I was going to give Tony Markes' Bikini Island a 3/10, but the last 3 minutes so thoroughly disgusted me that I felt obligated to drop it down to a 2/10. Basically, after surviving a massacre on the eponymous 'Bikini Island,' a young model is approached by a modeling company executive, told that the rights to her traumatic story (you know, the one where EVERYONE IS BRUTALLY MURDERED) has been sold to a movie studio, and that she is going to star in the ensuing film. In the hands of a competent director, this could be a devastating critique on American commercialism. But in the world of Tony Markes, this is supposedly a happy ending. That is how Bikini Island went from simply being stupid to being insulting. I mean, the rest of the film is essentially a softcore porn without any nudity. The "plot" is that a group of bikini models are taken to an island for an extended photo shoot. For the first 45 minutes, the movie is nothing but pathetic attempts at suspense (all of which are red herrings) and extended sequences of the models frolicking around in bathing suits. Oh yeah, and in the last third everyone starts dying. It's like mid-way through production Markes remembered that he wasn't making a porno and decided to throw together a half-baked slasher movie plot. Here's what you need to know: Bikini Island is boring, poorly made, infuriating, and not even that sexy.

2/10