The Strange Love of Martha Ivers: Lewis Milestone

Lewis Milestone's The Strange Love of Martha Ivers was one of the early film noir that blended lush stylization and Hollywood production values (like studio sets) before the genre inevitably evolved to focus more on realism (e.g. Fred Zinnemann's Act of Violence). The resulting film is drenched with intense melodrama centered around lost and forbidden love. The plot is difficult to summarize, but not because it is opaque and confusing (like many other film noir) but because it manages to cram so much story into a two hour run-time. It follows three main characters: Martha Ivers (Barbara Stanwyck), a young woman who accidentally killed her rich yet cruel, domineering aunt, Walter O'Neil (Kirk Douglas), a witness of the crime who is forced to marry Martha when she is blackmailed by his father, and Sam Masterson (Van Heflin), a gutter-snipe who had attempted to help Martha escape from her aunt as a child. The film watches as their lives accidentally intersect 18 years after that fateful night when Martha killed her aunt and Sam (having NOT witnessed the crime) went on the run. The Strange Love of Martha Ivers is a film that demands an in-depth critical re-evaluation. It is a fascinating document that explores the dynamics between rich and poor in the late 40s, or at least the way they were envisioned by the public. Martha and Walter are doomed to an opulent yet loveless marriage that seems to poison their minds and spirits, corrupting their characters (particularly in light of the film's climax). Sam, on the other hand, while living a life of poverty, never loses his morals or his sense of right and wrong...well...at least when it comes to justice. However, the film does overdose on melodrama near the end and becomes almost unbearably bloated. But this is still a film that I will have to return to later on.

7/10

The House on Telegraph Hill: Robert Wise

That's it...I need to go on a Robert Wise binge. In the past I have successfully managed to track down and watch the complete filmographies of Akira Kurosawa, Robert Altman, and Alfred Hitchcock. Now I need to do the same with Wise. I have yet to see one of his films that hasn't blown me away. The Set-Up (1949) is still my all-time favorite boxing film. The Day the Earth Stood Still (1951) was one of the first sci-fi films to truly capture my imagination. What can I say that hasn't already been said about the phenomenal West Side Story (1961), The Haunting (1963), or The Sound of Music (1965)? And now I find myself confronted by another one of his films, a lesser known film noir entitled The House on Telegraph Hill. After surviving the Holocaust, Victoria Kowelska assumes the identity of her best friend, Karin. Before dying, Karin had told Victoria that her infant son, Chris, had been sent to America to live with a small fortune in San Francisco. Once in America, she assumes Karin's identity, inheriting her fortune and massive home on top of Telegraph Hill. But a strange thing begins to happen: she develops genuine feelings of love towards her "son." But things are complicated when she starts getting into potentially fatal accidents, suggesting that somebody in her new family might want her out of the way...This film truly took me by surprise. At first I thought that it would be a tired melodrama revolving around a case of mistaken identity. But it evolves into an extremely effective thriller with one of the most tense final acts that I can remember. It involves a glass of orange juice that may or may not be poisoned and a husband who may or may not be responsible. The scene reminds me of a similar situation involving a glass of milk in Alfred Hitchcock's Suspicion (1941). But The House on Telegraph Hill reaches levels of suspense and tension that completely outstrip that film. Not many directors can legitimately claim to have beaten the "King of Suspense" at his own game. But, as I keep discovering, Robert Wise was not your average director.

8/10

Conquest: Lucio Fulci

If you take one thing away from Lucio Fulci's Conquest, let it be this lesson: never combine soft-focus cinematography, colored gels, and day-for-night shooting at the same time. Why? Because your movie will be unwatchable. The film follows a traditional "hero's quest" storyline where the protagonist, Ilius, leaves his people and homeland in order to travel the world and prove his worth (read: become a man). He decides that in order to complete his journey, he must vanquish the evil Ohkren, a nude sorceress who only wears a golden mask. Along the way, he befriends Mace, an outsider who has rejected mankind for the company of animals. Together they face many trials and tribulations: deadly flora and fauna, monsters, and evils forces controlled by Ohkren. There is an interesting twist at the end where Ilius is beheaded and the task of killing Ohkren falls upon Mace. This is a nice variation on the "hero's quest," suggesting that what makes a true hero isn't his heritage or birthright, but his willingness to stand and fight against evil. But again, the problem is that a good third of this film is impossible to watch. In his attempt to make the film more dreamlike, Fulci made his cinematographer use the techniques listed at the start of this review. Therefore, the entire film is blurry and hazy and the night scenes plunge the screen into opaque blackness. During these scenes it is impossible to follow what is going on. It's a real shame, too. Conquest could have easily been a decent sword and sorcery film...if you could actually see it.

5/10

Out for Justice: John Flynn

Three things make John Flynn's Out for Justice the best Steven Seagal film that I have ever seen. First, this is easily Seagal's best performance. He's never been the most talented actor. In fact, there is a rumor that he was only hired by his agent because of a bet that he could make a movie star out of anybody, regardless of how uncharismatic they may be. But Seagal turns in a legitimately good performance as Gino Felino, an NYPD detective from Brooklyn who is on the warpath after his partner is brutally murdered in front of his family by Riche Madano, a cocaine-crazed mafioso with a desperate death-wish. The second reason why this is the best Seagal film that I've ever seen is because of William Forsythe's performance as Madano. He turns what could have been a very generic villain role into one of the most memorable performances of his career, growling and stalking like a possessed jungle cat. And the third reason is the infamous bar-room interrogation/fight scene. Seeking out information on his partner's killer, Felino walks into the toughest bar around and begins to antagonize the muscle-bound patrons. When he finally succeeds in egging them into a fight, he strikes out with a pool cue-ball wrapped in a cloth, unleashing a series of the most brutal ass-whoppings this side of Hong Kong. While I had certainly enjoyed some of Seagal's films in the past, I had never understood his monstrous appeal as either a martial artist or an action hero until seeing Out for Justice. What a film!

7/10

Master Ninja I: Robert Clouse, Ray Austin

Yes, yes, let's get the jokes and formalities out of the way so we can properly discuss Master Ninja I: the film isn't really a film at all. Instead, it's the first two episodes of an Eighties action television show entitled The Master which only ran for one season. The show was a weird combination of martial arts, the buddy cop formula, and David Carradine's Kung Fu. Lee Van Cleef plays an American soldier who stayed in Japan after World War Two and became the very first Occidental Ninja. However, after hearing that he has a daughter in America, he abandons the "Ninja Lifestyle" to seek her out. This, of course, results in his former Ninja comrades trying to kill him. But after teaming up with a young American hot-shot played by Timothy Van Patten (who also becomes his pupil), he continues his quest to travel the country and find his daughter. In the first two episodes which would become Master Ninja I, they fight against two separate incidents where corrupt businessmen try to cheat a father/daughter team out of their livelihood. What a coincidence. There really isn't much to see here. It's boring, predictable, and disjointed.

4/10

Wagon Master: John Ford

When fans and scholars discuss the Westerns of John Ford, his 1956 film The Searchers is frequently the only one from that decade that is brought up. He directed a few other Westerns that decade, but they ranged from unremarkable to minor works when compared with his other input into the genre. Of course, there is one major exception: Wagon Master. Only his second film of the Fifties, Wagon Master is a stunning Western in the true John Ford tradition: a film that focuses on family, community, and justice. After hiring two horsemen (played by Ben Johnson and Harry Carey Jr.) to act as guides, a group of Mormon settlers set out West for Utah Territory. However, their train is soon hijacked by a group of bandits on the run from the law. They terrorize the settlers, forcing them to "escort" them away from the authorities hot on their trail after a bank robbery went sour. Wagon Train is one of the most intimate Westerns of Ford's later career, balancing superb characterizations with sincere suspense and tension. Two character moments struck me as particularly powerful: an early scene where a Mormon Elder haggles with the horsemen while both parties feign nonchalance by leaning against a fence and whittling and a later scene where the leader of a traveling group of "entertainers" volunteers his wagon (and his life) when the bandits cruelly force the settlers down the side of an impossibly steep hill. These scenes demonstrate an introspective knowledge of human behavior that few other directors have ever managed to duplicate. And yet, none of it seems pretentious or indulgent. And really, that was one of Ford's greatest talents: the ability to create serious works of art while tricking the world into thinking that his films were merely standard Hollywood fare.

8/10

Zardoz: John Boorman

I doubt that anyone thought that director John Boorman would follow up his enormously successful thriller Deliverance (1972) with one of the most obtuse, experimental, and stylistically polarizing sci-fi films ever made. But, lo and behold, two years later Boorman released Zardoz upon an unsuspecting and unprepared public. The film follows Zed (Sean Connery), a member of the "Exterminator" warrior class who are tasked by their god Zardoz, a giant, floating stone head, to kill others. However, after discovering an ancient library and teaching himself how to read, Zed sneaks into the giant head of Zardoz to see just what makes this monstrosity tick.  Zardoz is not an easy film to watch, particularly for those who expected it to be another action-packed Connery vehicle. But for those willing to give it a chance, the film explores scientific and religious concepts that most sci-fi features don't even realize exist. However, Boorman's direction is lacking in focus and purpose. This hardly seems like the work of the same genius who directed the masterful Point Blank (1967). It is much too indulgent and bloated.

5/10

Faceless: Jesús Franco

The similarities between Jesús Franco's Faceless and Georges Franju's Eyes Without a Face (1960) are unmistakable. Both involve a crazed doctor that kidnaps beautiful women in order to transplant their faces onto a scarred loved one. But whereas Eyes Without a Face displayed a kind of cinematic poetry akin to Jean Cocteau, Franco approached the film as an exploitation piece. That's not necessarily a condemnation, of course. In fact, Faceless is one of Franco's most technically astute and accomplished films. The film follows plastic surgeon Dr. Flamand and his assistant/lover Nathalie as they steal the faces from beautiful women for his sister/lover Ingrid who was accidentally mutilated with acid by a disgruntled ex-patient. In the true tradition of Italian exploitation, a Nazi doctor and a mentally-handicapped assistant/rapist also become part of their schemes. Faceless also does a decent job juggling its primary story with a subplot concerning an American private detective hired to track down one of Flamand's victims. It's not uncommon for such films to have subplots, of course. But they very rarely manage to incorporate them without making them seem like they came from an entirely different movie. Some of the special effects are decent, as well. Although, in all fairness, one of the effects where a woman's face is removed is particularly amateurish. But, overall, Faceless is one of Franco's better efforts.

6/10

Marked for Death: Dwight H. Little

The best part of Dwight H. Little's Marked for Death is its villain, the maniacal Jamaican drug-dealer and Obeah practitioner Screwface. Basil Wallace's performance transforms Screwface from just another generic action movie villain into a force to be reckoned with. There's one scene in particular that blew me away: after learning that Steven Seagal's character, Chicago DEA agent John Hatcher, had thwarted his men and embarrassed his organization, he howls, "I want Hatcher dead. I want his family dead. And if you can't kill him, I go kill him, and then I'm gonna kill you." Now, that line by itself isn't very special. In fact, it seems like an inferior version of Robert De Niro's famous line in Brian De Palma's The Untouchables (1987). But Wallace's performance is so spot-on that it comes across as genuinely terrifying. The rest of the film is standard Steven Seagal fare: after his family is attacked by Screwface's men, Hatcher sets out to bring down their organization by any means necessary. But honestly, I don't care about Seagal's character in this film very much. I want more Screwface. He is almost too good of a villain for this movie.

6/10

Monster Shark: Lamberto Bava, Bruno Mattei

Back in the early days of Hollywood, directors tried to utilize a technique known as "invisible editing" wherein the transition from one shot to another was so subtle that the audience wouldn't notice it. I just wish that Lamberto Bava and Bruno Mattei could have tried to mimic this technique when they made Monster Shark, a painful migraine-inducer of a film that follows a hideous creature from the sea and its reign of terror along the Florida coastline. The result of a military experiment gone wrong, this part-octopus, part-prehistoric mega-fish is hunted by a team of scientists seeking to kill it before the military can get to it again. Unfortunately, the film's plot is difficult to follow thanks to poor pacing, abysmal special effects, and some of the most incompetent editing that I have ever seen. Monster Shark was one of the many nature-horror films that were made following the spectacular success of Steven Spielberg's Jaws (1975). Sadly, it is also one of the absolute worst. A toddler with his eyes closed could have shot and edited a better film than this.

2/10

The Holy Virgin vs. the Evil Dead: Chin-Ku Lu

Have you ever had the feeling that, despite your best efforts, you have been stuck watching an edited copy of a film? I know I have. The most recent example of this occurred when I watched Chin-Ku Lu's The Holy Virgin vs. the Evil Dead, a Category III Hong Kong supernatural martial arts film. I kept hearing how this film was notorious for its graphic violence and eroticism, but I didn't see any content that would have earned the film anything more than an 'R' rating here in the States. My copy of the film had a run-time that was only a few minutes shorter than the official Hong Kong version, but that's normal for imported films, particularly those of an exploitative nature. So I'm not sure if I got the complete cut or a slightly edited version. Whatever the case, The Holy Virgin vs. the Evil Dead (and no, I will never get tired of typing that title) is a study in mediocre Hong Kong genre filmmaking. After five young female students are brutally dismembered by an evil spirit with green eyes, their teacher is thrown in jail as the primary suspect. However, it is soon discovered that the true culprit, the aforementioned fellow with the green eyes, is a Cambodian Moon Monster seeking to conquer the world. Somehow his plans for world domination includes raping and murdering many young women, but it's never made very clear how. Leading the assault against the Moon Monster is Princess White of the Cambodian Wind Tribe, a warrior possessing a magical sword that is the key to his defeat. The film contains a lot of great, cheesy special effects and wire-work, but it's ultimately hampered by its occasionally incoherent narrative. If I did watch an edited copy, then I hope that the original cut was better.

5/10

Lincoln: Steven Spielberg

If there's one word that I feel truly sums up Steven Spielberg's Lincoln, it's 'restraint.' Here is an intelligent movie that is not afraid to confront the audience with lengthy political and legal debates. Here is a movie that could have sensationalized the life of the greatest American president, but instead chooses to regard him in quieter moments: time spent with his family, tense meetings with his cabinet, wearied exchanges with political aids and allies. Here is a movie that sees Lincoln as he must have truly been in the last few months of the American Civil War: tired, old, exhausted. Though the film only explicitly concerns itself with his struggle to get the Thirteenth Amendment passed by the United States House of Representatives and to finally end the war in a secret meeting with delegates from the South, the film works as a kind of metaphor for his entire presidency. After all, the nation was already bitterly divided when he took office. He must have faced the same kind of struggles and opposition before that fateful year that would prove to be his last. Anyhow, Daniel Day-Lewis' performance as Lincoln is a revelation that at once seems organic and authentic without slipping into parody. Sally Field and Tommy Lee Jones both give two of their careers' best performances as First Lady Mary Todd Lincoln and Republican Congressional leader Thaddeus Stevens respectively. With pitch-perfect performances and one of the most thought-provoking Hollywood scripts in years, Lincoln is proof that Spielberg might still have a few more great films left in him.

8/10

The Pack: Robert Clouse

Joe Don Baker really got a bum deal from Mystery Science Theater 3000. After starring in two of their most famous episodes with Mitchell (1975) and Final Justice (1984), Baker has developed a reputation as a greasy parody of 70s and 80s action stars. But anybody who has seen Walking Tall (1973) can tell you that Baker is the real deal. That's one of the reasons that Robert Clouse's The Pack angers me: it re-enforces the aforementioned negative stereotype surrounding Baker. The film surrounds the population of a small island that are terrorized by a pack of dogs who had been abandoned by their vacationing owners. Baker plays Jerry, a man who recently moved to the island with his family, who helps lead the islanders in their struggle against "the pack." Unfortunately, Baker's performance is so subdued that it seems like he was on quaaludes. It doesn't help that the plot jumps around too much for its own good. I could only properly follow what was going on because I had its Wikipedia page open while I watched it. The dogs, however, give the film's best performances. I don't even want to imagine how difficult it must have been to train and command all of the dogs used in this film. But the results were worth it: the pack is portrayed as appropriately terrifying. A major problem that a lot of killer animal movies face is that the actual animals used will seem uninterested and uninvolved during their scenes. But the dogs in The Pack seem like they genuinely want to kill anything, and anyone, that gets in their way. If only Clouse could have gotten Baker to act as enthusiastically... 

5/10

Body and Soul: Robert Rossen

For me, personally, the main appeal of Robert Rossen's Body and Soul isn't the fact that it was one of the first great boxing films. Instead, the most intriguing part of the film, in my opinion, concerns two performances by actors who were cheated out of the more distinguished careers that they deserved. The first was John Garfield, that chiseled contender who could have gone down as one of the great "city boys" along with Humphrey Bogart and James Cagney if his career hadn't been destroyed for not naming names for the U.S. Congressional House Committee on Un-American Activities. Garfield plays Charley Davis, a well-intentioned but weak-willed young man who becomes a champion boxer only to get pulled into the criminal underworld of mafia rackets and gambling. The second amazing performance was by Hazel Brooks as Alice, a cynical nightclub singer who helps pull Charley towards oblivion. Brooks, an actress of South African descent, is a revelation. Imagine a more exotic Lauren Bacall and with just a light peppering of Veronica Lake. It is a tragedy that her career really didn't go anywhere. Anyhow, the film is well shot, tightly edited, and deliciously performed by two great unsung actors.

7/10

An Eye for an Eye: Steve Carver

Even going by early 80s revenge film standards, Steve Carver's An Eye for an Eye has a brutal first act. After seeing his partner brutally gunned down in an ambush, undercover San Francisco narcotics cop Sean Kane (Chuck Norris) overhears his reporter friend Linda Chan get murdered over the telephone. Apparently, Linda managed to get damning evidence against the drug gang responsible for the ambush. In the wake of so much tragedy, Kane teams up with Linda's father, James Chan (Mako Iwamatsu) to bring justice against those responsible. This being a Chuck Norris film, James is also Kane's martial arts teacher. But much to my surprise, Kane isn't a very competent martial artist. He is clumsy and unrefined. I know that this doesn't denote a lack of skill on Chuck Norris' part. After all, this film was made nine years after he starred opposite of Bruce Lee in Way of the Dragon (1972). Making Kane a sub-par martial artist was an interesting character choice. The film also contained a decent twist where the man that we thought was the villain turned out to be a hero and the cooperative, concerned ally turns out to be the main antagonist. At least, that latter twist would have been surprising if he hadn't been played by Christopher Lee. But I applaud the filmmaker's effort in trying to make it work.

6/10

Skidoo: Otto Preminger

The year was 1968 and the writing was on the wall. Vietnam was burning, students were rioting, hippies were dancing, and Hollywood was failing. As ticket prices dropped, studios began selling their backlots and props just to make ends meet. The legendary stars of the past were shoved aside to make room for teenage heartthrobs like James Dean and Elvis Presley. Hollywood just couldn’t comprehend these bizarre Baby Boomers who craved sex and violence, rebellion and rock ‘n’ roll. The first faint glimmers of the Hollywood New Wave could be seen on the horizon, heralding the birth of a new generation of filmmakers and actors at the expense of the old. It was from this environment that Otto Preminger’s Skidoo seemed to burst into existence both fully-formed and irrevocably apathetic. With nothing left to lose, the film saw a mixture of the Hollywood old guard and a pantheon of 50s television stars throwing up their hands towards the future and saying with one voice, “Screw it. We give up.”

In a quiet, picturesque neighborhood nestled somewhere in the American suburban wasteland of the late 1960s, retired hit-man Tony Banks (Jackie Gleason) is suddenly ordered back to active duty by his old mob boss “God.” At first Tony refuses, having grown quite comfortable with his new life of Teflon frying pans, tacky furniture, and color television. But when one of his close friends is soon discovered in a car wash with a bullet in his brain, Tony reluctantly agrees. His target is his old pal “Blue Chips” Packard (Mickey Rooney), a crook with a date with the US Senate’s Crime Commission. In order to “silence” Packard before he gets a chance to testify, Tony gets sent to Alcatraz Island where he is being held in an impervious prison cell of the future. To get to Packard, he must team up with Fred the Professor, a draft-dodging, brown rice eating electronics genius who just happens to be one of his cellmates, so they can modify a television set to communicate with him inside his cell. But after making contact, Tony realizes that he can’t go through with it. Knowing that “God” will never rescue him from Alcatraz if he doesn’t perform the hit, Tony begins to plot one of the strangest prison breaks in history.


But while Tony languishes in Alcatraz, his wanna-be hippie daughter Darlene (Alexandra Hay) and her spaced-out boyfriend Stash (John Phillip Law) decide to confront “God” on his yacht located deep (and permanently) within international waters. They find “God” (played by Groucho Marx in his final film appearance) unwilling to change his mind despite having long since grown tired of his self-imposed exile. When her mother Flo (Carol Channing) discovers that “God” has effectively taken her prisoner, she rallies a massive group of hippies and storms his yacht like pirates.

To make matters even worse, at that moment Tony and Fred arrive at the yacht in a massive hot air balloon made of freezer bags and garbage cans that they used to escape Alcatraz after spiking the prison’s food supply with LSD. In a sequence that seems oddly reminiscent of Groucho’s earlier film Duck Soup (1933), the characters scurry around like madmen in a bacchanalian frenzy of outrageous costumes, music, and crowded sets as a couple are married, a family is reunited, and an old mob boss suddenly dressed as a Hare Krishna smokes a joint and slips away.

For a film by Preminger, a director most known for his legendary output as part of the Hollywood studio system during the 1940s and 1950s, Skidoo displays an unusually vicious contempt for the entertainment industry, American society, and new technological advancements. It’s very easy to miss considering the film’s music and tone, but it is definitely there. Take the virtuoso sequence that occurs during the film’s first five minutes, for example. An animated title sequence featuring a dancing caricature of Preminger zooms out to reveal a television set. Suddenly, the television rapidly changes channels through a kaleidoscope of bizarre programming. First a Senate hearing. Then a skinny blonde woman with a pink pearl necklace, “Now you, too, can be beautiful and sexually desirable like me.” Back to the hearing. Now back to the woman, “Instead of that fat, disgusting, foul-breathed, slimy, wallowing sow that you are...” Now John Wayne on a battleship. Now a fat Bavarian drinking foamy beer. John Wayne. A noisy pig. “You’ll never lose your man if you drink ‘Fat’ Cola.” John Wayne. Two children and a dog smoking cigarettes. The hearing. “Get a gun for everyone in your family. Remember, for family fun, get your gun!” And all the while Flo can be heard complaining, at one point even chiming: “No, Harry, I don’t like films on TV. They always cut them to pieces.”

Skidoo’s America is one of artificial people trying, and failing, to put up a better front around others. Gleason’s Tony is a bloated, short-tempered grouch. Stash and the hippies are ignorant, easily manipulated morons. The local mayor occupies himself with “anti-ugliness” campaigns. Fred claims to despise technology while neck-deep in circuitry. Even the futuristic, technological creature comforts that dominate the film’s interiors fail to work properly. Take one scene where Flo tries to seduce a gangster in order to gain information on Frank’s whereabouts. His “pad” is an automated No Man’s Land of malfunctioning gadgets and gizmos: the remote-controlled lights and stereo go haywire, a liquor cabinet sputters open and closed, and a mechanical bed that rises from the floor accidentally drags her underground.

And then there are the drugs. LSD, marijuana, birth control pills...the film is a cornucopia of chemical delights. During the prison-wide LSD-fueled freak-out, garbage cans dance, guards collapse in laughter, and visiting government officials...*ahem*...lose their composure. In an earlier scene, Tony unwittingly licks an LSD-laced envelope, resulting in one of the best drug-trip sequences of the 1960s (“Mathematics! I see mathematics!”). Preminger seems to condemn them one moment as the playthings of the stupid and unmotivated and then at other moments praise them as the means through which individuals can escape the conformist nightmare of Vietnam-era America.

So what’s the point of the film? Perhaps there isn’t one. Perhaps Preminger merely wanted to air out a career’s worth of dirty laundry within the confines of a film that his producers would overlook and the critics would casually dismiss. Perhaps the film finally gave voice to Preminger’s long-held frustrations with his adopted culture. But perhaps we’re over-thinking it. Whatever the case, Skidoo is a technicolor enigma of pop culture detritus. It must be seen to be believed. But don’t expect to understand it instantly. As some are wont to point out, you never get high your first time.

9/10

Django Unchained: Quentin Tarantino

I'm beginning to think that I might need to re-watch all of Quentin Tarantino's films. Until now, I had never seen one of his films on the big screen. But after seeing Django Unchained in a theater, I have come to the realization that I have never truly seen any of his other films before. Here is an artist with a painter's eye for shot composition and blocking. Even when bullets and innards begin to fly across the screen with gleeful abandon, Tarantino never loses his knack for flawlessly conceived and perfectly balanced mise en scène. But Django Unchained also sees the further development of Tarantino as a writer. Much like his previous film, Inglourious Basterds (2009), Django Unchained doesn't telegraph Tarantino's influences as explicitly as his earlier work. A well-versed film buff can certainly pick out elements from other movies that Tarantino "borrowed" from: the visual and thematic quotations from Sergio Corbucci's Django (1966), Sergio Leone's characterization of the quiet anti-hero, the snowy landscapes of The Great Silence (1968), and even the impossible, pocket-sized gizmos of the Sartana franchise. But instead of making these references the heart and soul of the film, Tarantino merely uses them to enhance and flavor his original story and ideas. After being freed from his owners by the eccentric dentist/bounty hunter Dr. King Schultz (Christoph Waltz), ex-slave Django Freeman (Jamie Foxx) teams up with him to hunt down evil slavers, bandits, and the bastards who sold off his wife, Broomhilda (Kerry Washington). The film is both a visual and visceral delight that revels in Tarantino's passion and love for a genre that has influenced him from the very beginning. Now to see if I can find a theater showing Pulp Fiction (1994)....

9/10 (Side-note: I didn't plan this, but it seems oddly appropriate that this is my 666th Mini Review)

Wee Willie Winkie: John Ford

I must admit that the very thought of watching John Ford's Wee Willie Winkie made me extremely apprehensive. The man directed films in almost every major genre, but I couldn't for the life of me imagine him directing a Shirley Temple vehicle. But much to my surprise, Wee Willie Winkie more than deserves its spot in Ford's filmography. In fact, the film contains more explicitly Fordian themes and concepts than many of his other pictures of the era. Based on a story by Rudyard Kipling, the film follows little Priscilla Williams as she and her widowed mother move to a remote military outpost in India to live with her grandfather, Colonel Williams. Williams is a dour, sour man with little time for anybody who doesn't wear a British uniform. So Priscilla goes searching for new friends, finding them in the many soldiers stationed at the outpost. Moved by her innocence and cheerful pluck, they quickly adopt her as a surrogate daughter, friend, and honorary soldier, nicknaming her "Wee Willie Winkie." However, the base is soon attacked by the followers of rebel chief Khoda Khan. Khan, who had been captured the same day that Priscilla and her mother had arrived, escapes into the frontier...but not before also befriending young Priscilla. Determined to end the cycle of violence, Priscilla naively sets out into the frontier to personally ask Khan to stop the fighting. Will she succeed? Or will her disappearance jettison the British into a new bloody conflict? The film is admittedly very antiquated in its racial depiction of Indians and in its belief that ethnic conflicts going back centuries can be solved overnight. But Wee Willie Winkie is still a great piece of entertainment and a heart-warming tribute to Ford's belief in simple virtues and in the integrity of the family unit.

7/10

Zone Troopers: Danny Bilson

With heaping helpings of aliens and Nazis, Danny Bilson's Zone Troopers is like a B-movie fan's wet dream. It follows a group of American soldiers trapped behind enemy lines somewhere in Nazi-occupied Italy who discover a crashed spaceship. But, of course, the Nazis aren't too far behind them. The Nazis end up stealing one of the surviving aliens, a furry little critter with giant eyes. So it is up to our intrepid group of GI's to rescue the interstellar traveler and foil the Nazis' plans for utilizing the alien tech. The film is pretty standard B-movie fare: the soldiers are a bunch of stock characters (the mean sergeant with a heart of gold, the wide eyed kid from Jersey, the nosy journalist along for the ride), the effects range from rudimentary to impressive (the crashed spaceship is particularly effective), and a predictable conclusion where the aliens help the Americans defeat the Nazis. But the actors really help make Zone Troopers memorable. Two of the central performances, Tim Thomerson as the Sarge and Timothy Van Patten as Joey, bring a lot of heart to this otherwise silly film. It's definitely worth a watch.

6/10

Ms. 45: Abel Ferrara

One of the eternal dilemmas facing film critics concerns the treatment of films with content that they find morally repugnant. Film criticism, by its very nature, requires a tenuous balance between scholastic objectivity and subjective interpretation. Should a film critic praise a film if it's well-made even if they find it detestable? Should a film critic ignore legitimate artistic merit if they find a film offensive? I was recently confronted with this quandary after watching Abel Ferrara's Ms. 45. The film is a rape-revenge thriller that follows a mentally unstable seamstress named Thana as she embarks on a misandristic murder spree after being raped twice in one afternoon. I cannot stand the rape-revenge sub-genre of exploitation cinema. But here's the catch: Ms. 45 is immaculately made and sets itself apart from other films of the genre. The two rape scenes take place in the first ten minutes and don't objectify the actress' body or suffering, at least when compared to other rape-revenge films like I Spit on Your Grave (1978). These films exploited their central protagonists' rape in order to titillate the audience. Ms. 45, much like Hannie Caulder (1971), the only other rape-revenge film that I actively enjoy, tries to get the main assault out of the way as quickly as possible so it can focus on the protagonist's growth as a character. It also helps that Ferrara made Thana mute, thereby forcing himself to depict her downward spiral visually. In fact, much of Ms. 45 feels like a silent film with incidental dialogue provided by incidental characters. The film is a veritable Pandora's Box of subtexts involving Catholic iconography, misogyny, sexuality, and the nature of violence. I may not agree with its content, but I would be a fool to deny Ms. 45's power and Ferrara's cinematic skill.

9/10

Traxx: Jerome Gary

Jerome Gary's Traxx is a pure delight! Imagine if Zucker, Abrahams and Zucker did a self-aware 80s action movie where the nearly invincible hero decided to give up his day job and start making and selling cookies. Sound ridiculous? Well, this all happens in the first ten or so minutes of Traxx. And believe me when I tell you that it is just getting started in the insanity department! After quickly running out of funds, ex-mercenary/soldier Traxx (Shadoe Stevens) decides that the best way to make enough money to keep his new business venture afloat is to offer his "services" as a "sheriff" to the nearby town of Hadleyville, Texas. This, as you can imagine, involves a ton of over-the-top violence. I don't think that I have ever seen a film starring Stevens before, which is a real shame considering that he gives an absolutely incredible performance. Not only is he a completely believable action star, but he also possesses a fantastic sense of comedic timing. He is also one of the few actors that I have ever seen who can successfully display smug self-awareness towards his actions without breaking the 4th Wall. It makes me wish that he had been in more films. If Traxx is any indication, he could have easily been one of the great 80s action stars.

8/10

A Woman’s Secret: Nicholas Ray

A Woman's Secret isn't a Nicholas Ray film. He may have directed it, but there is not a single frame of A Woman's Secret that suggests his style of filmmaking or artistic intent. It is a dry, dull, and tedious motion picture that was obviously made with Ray on auto-pilot. The film is actually a bit like Joseph L. Mankiewicz's All About Eve (1950) in that it follows an aging female star and her young rival. Well, it would be like All About Eve if Bette Davis had virtually forced Anne Baxter into show business and attempted to kill her when she pleaded to leave. So...I guess it isn't anything like All About Eve, after all. Not that it matters. A Woman's Secret frames the trajectories of both women via a murder mystery after the eldest apparently shoots the youngest. At least, that is what the film leads us to believe until the last 10 minutes when it suddenly changes directions and...guh...I can't remember. A Woman's Secret is so uninteresting that it's an anti-film; you forget it while still watching it.

4/10

Snake Eater: George Erschbamer

George Erschbamer's Snake Eater features one of the most unintentionally incompetent action heroes that I have every encountered. I say that he is "unintentionally" incompetent because the film plays his exploits entirely straight. If you are having trouble understanding what I mean, let me relate to you a scene near the end that perfectly illustrates my point. After an intense 80s "suiting up for battle" montage, Jack "Soldier" Kelly, an ex-member of the Marine Special Forces "Snake Eater" team, assaults the home of a group of hillbillies who murdered his parents and kidnapped his sister. As he approaches the shed where one of the hillbillies is about to slit his sister's throat, he steps on a bear-trap. He is immediately incapacitated by pain and falls to the ground, alerting his presence to the hillbillies. His trapped sister then springs into action, freeing herself and killing the hillbilly while Kelly stupidly looks on. Now, keep in mind, this isn't a comedic scene. The film still treats Kelly like a bad-ass action hero. This isn't a one-time fluke, either. Before that, he was defeated in a fist-fight by unarmed yokels, fell victim to a "log trap" on a river, and was repeatedly outsmarted and/or captured by the hillbillies. The bear-trap scene wasn't even the first time in the film that Kelly had been saved from certain death by an inexperienced female character who had managed to free herself from the same predicament that he was in before he could. I hear that this film has two sequels. I must seek these films out and see if Kelly manages to maintain his crown as the most inept action hero in history.

5/10

Macao: Josef von Sternberg, Nicholas Ray

Macao (1952) saw the collaboration of two great Hollywood directors, Josef von Sternberg and Nicholas Ray, and two of the era's most popular stars, Robert Mitchum and Jane Russell. The film follows three strangers who arrive in the Chinese port of Macau and accidentally become involved in a war between the criminal underworld and the American authorities who want to arrest their leader, Vincent Halloran. And yet, despite the film's incredible pool of talent, it is a cloying mess. Sternberg had been fired by producer Howard Hughes during filming and was replaced by Ray. As such, the film seems to stumble through two very different directorial styles. The action scenes and exteriors demonstrate Sternberg's moody, ultra-atmospheric hard-light cinematography that brings the port to life as a character in and of itself. Meanwhile, most of the dialogue and exposition scenes are bathed in soft-lighting which abruptly removes the characters from their exotic surroundings. Here is a film at war with itself. Sternberg's scenes demonstrate a certain detachment which seems to suggest that the characters are merely doomed cogs in an uncaring society, much like the laborers and prostitutes in his earlier film The Docks of New York (1928). But Ray's scenes are more in line with traditional films where the characters drive the plot forward via their own prerogatives. The result is a film that feels like it is comprised of scenes from two completely different pictures.

6/10

King of Kings: Nicholas Ray

Second only to Pier Paolo Pasolini's The Gospel According to St. Matthew (1964), Nicholas Ray's King of Kings is my all-time favorite cinematic adaption of the life of Jesus Christ. Combining his meticulous eye for cinematic composition and his propensity for societal outsiders, Ray's take on Jesus' life never loses sight of the compassion, courage, and humanity that fueled one of mankind's greatest philosophers. Many adaptions of Jesus' life tend to portray him as aloof or detached from society. But Ray goes to pains to depict Jesus as a man who was both a product of his time and an outsider from it. His version of the Sermon on the Mount is particularly moving and emotional: Jesus moves amongst the peoples while preaching instead of merely standing at the mountain-top talking down to everyone else. Ray understood that Jesus was born into a chaotic, violent, and bloody time and that much of his appeal came from his ability to appeal for peace, love, and tolerance despite this. King of Kings is one of the best works from Ray's later career. While many films tried to give Jesus a timeless quality, Ray knew that, again, he was first and foremost a product of his time and it was therein that his brilliance and greatness truly lay.

9/10

12 Monkeys: Terry Gilliam

12 Monkeys has quite the cinematic pedigree: it stars Bruce Willis and Brad Pitt, is directed by Terry Gilliam, and is based on Chris Marker's La jetée (1962), a film on the short-list for the greatest short film of all time. Is it any wonder considering its well of talent that 12 Monkeys is an intelligent, expertly crafted sci-fi film? In a future where mankind has been forced underground by a horrific virus, James Cole (Willis) is a convicted criminal subjected to scientific tests with the intent of sending him back in time in order to stop the apocalypse. Upon arrival in the past, Cole must unravel the secret of the Army of the Twelve Monkeys, the terrorist group suspected of being behind the virus. This being a) a time travel film and b) a Terry Gilliam picture, 12 Monkeys is a wash of impossible visuals, fantastic performances, and revolutionary ideas. Willis' performance as Cole, particularly in scenes in the "past" where he is captured, committed to a mental institution, and pumped full of drugs, ranks among the very best of his career. This is a film that rewards multiple, meticulous viewings. Thankfully, the film is so well made that the audience will want to re-watch it as soon as possible anyway.

8/10

Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure: Stephen Herek

Stephen Herek's Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure was always one of those films that I kicked myself for never having watched. Not only was it a personal favorite of many of my friends, it was one of the most frequently quoted and incessantly referenced films of the 1980s. That's quite an impressive feat for a decade that also gave us Back to the Future (1985) and Indiana Jones. After finally kicking myself enough times, I gave the film a watch. And now, I can finally understand why it was so popular. This film about two high school slackers who come into possession of a time machine is no work of high art in the vein of Kubrick or Bresson. But it still remains an incredibly entertaining, thoroughly enjoyable piece of cinema. It may be as formulaic as Hollywood films come in terms of story structure (I could hear the individual parts of the three-act story structure fall into place with deafening 'thuds'), but that does little to diminish the pleasure that this film delivers. Its sense of irreverence, indefatigable joy, and enthusiasm elevate this simple film into cinematic Valhalla.

7/10

Party Girl: Nicholas Ray

After the disastrous production of Wind Across the Everglades (1958) which saw him being fired by the studio before the film's completion, Nicholas Ray rebounded with Party Girl, a film about a mob lawyer who falls in love with a showgirl. The lawyer, Thomas Farrell, has spent his life keeping the worst mobsters in America out of jail. However, his life is hollow and empty. But when he meets a showgirl named Vicki (played by the stunning Cyd Charisse) he decides that he wants to leave the mob and start a new life with her. But, of course, nobody just leaves the mob. Mob boss Rico Angelo (loosely based on gangsters like Al Capone and Lucky Luciano) threatens to hurt Vicki if Farrell abandons him. But I'm just recounting the plot. The real meat of the film is found in Ray's direction, Robert J. Bronner's gob-smacking color CinemaScope cinematography, and two musical dance numbers with Charisse. What it lacks in plot it more than makes up for in visual flare. Party Girl easily ranks with In a Lonely Place (1950) and Johnny Guitar (1954) as Ray's most beautiful films.

7/10

Sundown: The Vampire in Retreat: Anthony Hickox

Anthony Hickox's Sundown: The Vampire in Retreat (1989) isn't just a good movie; it is also a smart one. The idea of vampires who want to re-integrate with the rest of humanity isn't necessarily a new idea, particularly in this day and age when vampires seem to permeate all over the popular media. So instead, Hickox turns his camera on the minutiae of vampires trying to live during the daytime. Sentry vampires in sombreros work at gas stations to monitor anyone who might come too close to their community. A crowd of vampires pantomime eating at a diner when human guests show up. Vats of heavy-duty sunblock are scattered everywhere, just in case. These are the details that make the film work. But what about the plot? Well, it's not too shabby, either. In the quiet desert town of Purgatory, a colony of vampires try to build an artificial-bloodmaking machine that will allow them to re-enter the world of humans. However, when their attempts fail, they call in the plant's designer, a regular human, and his family to Purgatory. It's too bad that they decided to call them just as an evil vampire elder starts a literal revolution. The appearance of one of Van Helsing's descendants doesn't help things, either. It would have been so easy for Hickox to make Sundown: The Vampire in Retreat a cliched vampire film. Thank heavens that he didn't. This is a film that deserves more than a purgatory of its own in old video rental stores.

7/10

Born to Be Bad: Nicholas Ray

What a disappointing follow-up to In a Lonely Place (1950). After directing one of the single greatest film noir in history, director Nicholas Ray released Born to Be Bad, a dull, mediocre picture about an opportunistic woman who back-stabs and betrays her way to high society. Joan Fontaine plays Christabel, a young gold-digger who breaks up a marriage so she can marry the husband and get his money. Along the way she also strings along an aspiring author that she secretly desires. She doesn't pursue him, of course, because he's not the one with any money. This all leads to a decent confrontation moment when everyone gangs up on her and reveals that they discovered the truth behind her sickening actions. But the film is simply tedious and tiring. Maybe another director could have salvaged this film. But regardless, Nicholas Ray was the wrong director for this film and it shows.

5/10

Coffin Joe 2: This Night I'll Possess Your Corpse: José Mojica Marins

Immediately after the events of At Midnight I'll Take Your Soul (1963), the film's eponymous character is rushed to the emergency room where his life is miraculously saved. Just, don't tell Coffin Joe that because he'll probably kill you for suggesting that God had an influence in his life. Yes, director José Mojica Marins' greatest creation is back for more blood, torture, and blasphemy in his search for the perfect woman to give birth to his "perfect" son. This time, there are more victims, more diabolical murders, and even a nightmare sequence in Hell done in color to provoke and terrify the audience. After kidnapping six young women, Coffin Joe submits them to a horrific test to see if they are free from fear. This test involves covering them with dozens upon dozens of (real) giant spiders to see which ones scream. After finding his "superior" woman, he viciously murders the other five by throwing them into a pit filled with (once again, real) poisonous snakes. He soon gets the "winner" pregnant. However, Coffin Joe is devastated to learn that one of the five women was also with child. Lacking any kind of morals except an extreme protectiveness of children, the news sends Coffin Joe into a dangerous, and potentially fatal, down-ward spiral. Coffin Joe isn't helped by the fact that the local villagers have finally worked up the courage to rebel against him, sending several hired killers to dispatch him. But Coffin Joe refuses to go down without a fight. He is, after all, superior to all of them. This Night I'll Possess Your Corpse is a visceral, terrifying delight. Anyone who loves horror needs to see this film.

9/10

The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey: Peter Jackson

After long last, it is finally here! I have waited with excitement for Peter Jackson's cinematic adaptation of J.R.R. Tolkien's The Hobbit. After all, I still believe that his Lord of the Rings trilogy was one of the most important moments in the cinema of the last decade. So does the first film in this new trilogy, An Unexpected Journey, live up to its expectations? Yes...but not as much as it could have. Without going into the matter of Jackson's decision to split the book into three movies, I don't think that there is enough plot to keep this film held together. There are too many plot diversions (did we really need the Morgul-blade scene?) and moments when it felt like Jackson was deliberately stretching things. One of the best observations that I have heard about this film was that it felt like an extended edition with deleted scenes. But still, the film has a lot of the heart that was the lifeblood of Tolkien's work. The opening scene with the Dwarves at Bag End is one of the most virtuosic moments of Jackson's career, speaking both to his talents as a filmmaker and as an interpreter of the novel's more upbeat, comical tone. Even for Jackson, the film seems over-burdened with CGI special effects. The Goblin-Town scenes, in particular, could have really benefited from more practical effects like trick shots and puppetry. I can only hope that Jackson can reel in the computer effects by the time we get around to Smaug and the Battle of Five Armies.

6/10

Mogambo: John Ford

Still reeling from the failure of The Sun Shines Bright (1953), director John Ford was in desperate need of a profitable hit film. Despite his health problems, Ford packed up and traveled to Africa in order to film MGM’s remake of its own 1932 romantic melodrama Red Dust. The film followed the romantic triangle between big game hunter Victor Marswell (Clark Gable), misplaced playgirl Eloise “Honey Bear” Kelly (Ava Gardner), and the naive wife of a milquetoast scientist named Linda Nordley (Grace Kelly) against the exotic back-drop of the African wilderness. After a physically grueling shoot that saw him endure amoebic dysentery, the film, titled Mogambo (1953) was released to incredible success. In addition to grossing $5.2 million and garnering Oscar nominations for both Gardner and Kelly, the film revitalized Gable’s career and, to another extent, Ford’s. But despite the film being one of Ford’s biggest hits, it seems almost mechanical in its twists and turns. After Ford’s self-described favorite and most personal film, Mogambo seems like a movie straight from a cookie cutter. As such, the film fits snugly into the thematic and social patterns that have since been identified as typical of Fifties Hollywood cinema.

6/10

Coffin Joe: At Midnight I'll Take Your Soul: José Mojica Marins

Based on a “faceless figure dressed in black” from one of director José Mojica Marins' nightmares, Zé do Caixão, or 'Coffin Joe' in English, is a vicious undertaker in a tiny, superstitious Brazilian town. Harboring a malicious hatred for religion, a sociopathic disdain for its followers, and a deep-seated belief in his own superiority, he holds the townspeople in a constant state of terror, periodically intimidating and assaulting those who step out of line. Obsessed with continuing his bloodline, the only thing in life to which he assigns any meaning, Coffin Joe embarks on a reign of rape and murder as he seeks out the ‘perfect’ woman to give birth to his ‘perfect’ son. At Midnight I'll Take Your Soul, this first film with the character of Coffin Joe, was part of a much bigger avant-garde movement raging in the movie theaters and film circles of Brazil during the 1960s: Udigrudi cinema. The Brazilian pronunciation of ‘Underground,’ Udigrudi was the term given to the work of a group of filmmakers who rejected cinematic norms in favor of a “dirty screen” and a “garbage” esthetic. But in addition to its place in the development of Brazilian cinema, At Midnight I'll Take Your Soul's greatest impact was found in the character of Coffin Joe himself. Screenwriter Rubens F. Lucchetti explained the true significance of the character of Coffin Joe, saying, “I didn’t think it was possible to create a Brazilian character like Frankenstein or Dracula. I thought there was no equivalent. But Mojica created one. He copied nothing from anyone, the character is pure Brazilian.” Indeed, Coffin Joe’s appeal to the Brazilian public came from his rebellion against the country’s societal norms. For much of the population that suffered under military rule from 1964 to 1985, the Coffin Joe films served as a vicarious release for their feelings of unrest. One of the most powerful examples of how Coffin Joe would have registered among Brazilian sensibilities of the day but not necessarily to those of foreigners involves an early scene that shows Coffin Joe feasting on a leg of lamb while perched above an Easter procession near his house on Good Friday. For Brazilians, who were forbidden by the Catholic Church from consuming meat on Holy Days, this simple act was seen as extreme blasphemy. Outsiders without a deep understanding of Brazilian culture would have more than likely failed to grasp the symbolic nature and import of Coffin Joe’s feast. Such was Marins' skill as a director that At Midnight I'll Take Your Soul remains to this day as a film of undeniable power and horror.

8/10

Meteorango Kid: Galactic Hero: André Luiz Oliveira

André Luiz Oliveira’s Meteorango Kid: Intergalactic Hero follows a disenchanted teenager from the northeastern Brazilian state of Bahia named Lula amidst the political turmoil of the late 1960s. As Lula wanders from one location to another, he frequently slips into vibrant fantasies where he envisions himself as famous characters like Tarzan and Batman. Scenes that would normally carry considerable weight as moments of narrative progression or character development, such as a meeting with a film producer and his birthday party, are swiftly lost in a wash of cacophonous pop music, bizarre images (the first shot of the film consists of reversed footage of Lula being crucified on a palm tree), and other forms of mass media detritus. If other films from the Brazilian Udigrudi movement like Rogério Sganzerla's The Red Light Bandit (1968) used the pretense of a cinematic narrative to make a statement on the cinema, then Meteorango Kid: Intergalactic Hero used a similar strategy to examine Brazilian society, or at the very least, a small portion of it.

7/10

Bang Bang: Andrea Tonacci

Andrea Tonacci’s Bang Bang represents one of the Brazilian Udigrudi, or 'Underground', movement’s most radical departures from conventional narratives. Defined by Tonacci as a “Maoist detective comedy,” the film is about a story that, for one reason or another, never quite begins. The film features an unnamed protagonist on the run from three gangsters and a magician. Who is this man? Why are the gangsters chasing him? Why does the magician keep interfering? These questions are never answered or even momentarily considered. Near the end, one of the gangsters, a beefy transvestite with a bottomless appetite, attempts to summarize the “plot” for the audience. The gangster can barely get out more than a couple sentences before she is silenced by a cream pie (originating off-camera) that flies into her face. The protagonist spends most of his time in the film getting into fights with taxi drivers over directions (a scene that is mercilessly repeated twice) and lounging around in his bathroom wearing a monkey mask. There are chase scenes bereft of impetus, explanation, and resolution. A conversation between a man and a woman is repeated successively five times in a row. And, perhaps most memorably, there is a musical number performed by the monkey-masked protagonist. With Bang Bang, Tonacci stripped the diegetic world of cinema of context, interpretation, and relevancy. With a mere 85 minutes’ worth of celluloid, he forced narrative cinema into obsolescence. But despite this, even with the proper cultural and historical context, Bang Bang is a blistering challenge to watch. It was never intended as an easy film for its audience, of course. But that doesn't work as an excuse for the casual, non-academic viewer.

5/10

12 to the Moon: David Bradley

I'll give David Bradley and his film 12 to the Moon credit where credit is due: in the same year that African-Americans were organizing sit-ins as part of the Civil Rights Movement, here is a film with a multicultural cast (including black and Asian crew-members) that implies that mankind can only truly advance as a species once we set aside our differences and work together. Of course, most of the crew-members die, the "ethnic" characters are almost always stereotypes, and the film's approach to science would make a Young Earth Creationist blush. Upon landing on the Moon during an international space expedition, they find a partially breathable atmosphere, a massive deposit of gold, and signs of an advanced civilization living beneath the Moon's surface. These denizens of the Moon decide that humanity is a threat, so they flash-freeze all of North America. So the survivors of the space-flight, which at this point are surprisingly sparse, must somehow unfreeze the continent while proving their worth as a species to the inhabitants of the Moon. 12 to the Moon is a bizarre sci-fi film, even for its era. But, hey, it gets points for good intentions. I think...

5/10

Jesse James at Bay: Joseph Kane

This is the second Roy Rogers film that I have seen that has involved Jesse James. The first, Days of Jesse James (1939), was a bizarre little movie where Rogers, playing himself, teams up with the legendary outlaw to foil the evil schemes of a group of bankers. Jesse James at Bay actually sees Rogers take up the mantle of James. This film is a supposed reconstruction of a folk tale where Jesse James survived being shot by Robert Ford, went into seclusion, and started a new life. But he is called out from "retirement" when a group of railroad businessmen swindle a group of settlers of their land and demand an outrageous amount of money under penalty of foreclosure from their homes. To keep a long story short, James arrives in town at the same time as a look-alike gambler (also played by Rogers) who is hired by the businessmen to stir up trouble. This film continues the myth of Jesse James as an American Robin Hood who materializes out of the desert (Sherwood Forest) to protect the settlers from the evil authorities (Prince John) only to disappear once his work is done. It's ridiculous, but Rogers puts in a surprisingly good dual-performance as both hero and villain. The film is worth checking out.

5/10

Dracula’s Widow: Christopher Coppola

Wait, how many Coppola's involved with film-making are there in the world? It seems like you can't go more than ten feet in a video store (remember those?) without tripping over one of their films. This time around, the Coppola in the director's seat is Christopher Coppola. The film? Dracula's Widow. This film is a dime-a-dozen adaptation of the old story of a vampire rising from the dead in the modern world only to go on a killing spree while seeking out their long-lost mate. This time around it's Dracula's widow, Vanessa, who awakens in 1980s-era Hollywood. I must say that it's not a good sign when I have a hard time telling a film's plot apart from William Crain's Blacula (1972). But thankfully, Christopher Coppola demonstrates his cinematic acumen by injecting the film with fantastic, colorful visuals. In a strange sense, the film's visual style seems like a watered down version of his uncle's vastly superior vampire film Bram Stoker's Dracula (1992). The film abounds with practical effects, fluorescent-colored sets, and admirable gore set-pieces. It may be completely predictable, but it's enjoyable in its own right.

6/10

Hondo: John Farrow

John Farrow's Hondo is one of the purest distillations of the John Wayne persona that I have ever encountered. From the first scene where a dusty, trail-weary Wayne stumbles out of the desert to the film's final cavalry battle, he is perfectly portrayed as a larger-than-life icon. It follows Wayne as Hondo Lane, a gunfighter-turned-US Army Cavalry dispatch rider, as he stumbles into the lives of Mrs. Angie Lowe and her young son Johnny. They live in a ranch in the middle of Apache territory. For the longest time they lived in peace with the Apache. But after being betrayed by the Army, the Apache are on the war-path. Soon Hondo finds himself trapped between loyalty to the Army, loyalty to Lowe and her son, loyalty to the Apache way of life (they raised him as a child), and loyalty to his own moral code. But the heart of the film is Wayne's relationship with Lowe and her son. Wayne quickly becomes a surrogate father figure to Johnny, teaching him how to fish, swim, and even be a man. He falls in love with Angie, but their love is challenged when Hondo unknowingly kills her husband. The film also demonstrates a keen awareness of the plight of Native Americans against the forces of White Civilization. The Apache are certainly depicted as "noble savages" that must be overcome in order for America to expand. But the film takes pains to point out that the Apache are the true victims. Hondo is a film that manages to combine high adventure with emotional subtleties the likes of which are rarely seen outside of John Ford Westerns. (Side note: That last sentence seems apropos considering that Ford actually directed the film's final shoot-out.)

9/10

Days of Jesse James: Joseph Kane

Now here's an interesting take on the Jesse James mythos: a group of dishonest bankers impersonate James and his gang during a train robbery. As the law goes after the falsely accused James gang, peace officer Roy Rogers (played by...Roy Rogers) begins to believe that the whole situation might be a frame-up. So he goes on a personal crusade to clear the name of the notorious outlaw. First off, I had no idea that you could play yourself in a Western. I don't think John Wayne ever appeared in a movie as John Wayne. Second, the whole idea of Jesse James being framed seems like a desperate attempt on the part of the filmmakers to have their cake and eat it, too. At this point in American history, Jesse James was already a mythologized figure in American history. But he was still a criminal. So how could he star in a film with the clean-cut Roy Rogers? Simple: have him be framed. It's such a mind-boggling concept. My favorite scene was when Roy Rogers says something along the lines of, "I knew that Jesse James was too noble to do that." Don't get me wrong, Days of Jesse James isn't very good (although I did legitimately enjoy a running gag where a newspaper salesman on a train lies about Jesse James being in the headlines to sell papers). But as an anthropological specimen of the evolution of Western archetypes, it is strangely compelling.

5/10

I Shot Jesse James: Samuel Fuller

Mr. Robert Ford was one of the most fascinating and hated men of the American Old West for his vicious murder of his friend Jesse James when his back was turned. Historians and writers have tried for decades to decode Ford's true motivation for his infamous act of betrayal. In Samuel Fuller's first directorial effort, I Shot Jesse James, he realizes that it is impossible for us to know what actually went through Ford's mind on that fateful day. Instead, Fuller is interested in how Ford rationalized his treachery to himself after the fact. Ford seems to convince himself that with the reward for killing James he can finally start a new life with his childhood sweetheart, Cynthy Waters. But there is obviously more going on in Ford's head than he lets on. I Shot Jesse James demonstrates Fuller's knack for the psychological pathos that would come to dominate his characters in the rest of his career. Perhaps my favorite scene in the film is when Ford is drinking at a bar and a wandering musicians walks in and begins to sing the legendary Ballad of Jesse James. Ford stands up, introduces himself, and forces the horrified musician to finish the song. It is a scene of such perfectly balanced emotional intensity that it is nearly inconceivable to believe that it was shot by a first-time director. I Shot Jesse James is a grimy gem of a film that announces the arrival of one of America's greatest filmmakers.

7/10

Gamera II: Gamera vs. Barugon: Shigeo Tanaka

I've always enjoyed kaiju films where the eponymous giant monsters are portrayed more like uncontrollable, amoral forces of nature than cheerful allies of humanity. It may just be me, but the allure of a fire-breathing lizard the size of a skyscraper is largely diminished when it jumps up and down in celebration when it finally defeats another giant monster with the aid of a scrappy group of scientists and, inevitably, children. Thankfully, the second film to feature Daiei's premiere giant monster Gamera, Gamera vs. Barugon, makes no pretense to continue the idea that Gamera is the "friend of all children." After a group of criminals accidentally hatch a giant lizard-creature named Barugon from an egg that they believed was a valuable opal, Gamera arrives to fight it. Why does Gamera attack it? Is it because it is destroying the world and killing people? Nope. You honestly get the feeling that Gamera attacks Barugon because he considers the earth to be his territory. Surprisingly, Barugon quickly defeats Gamera with his freeze-breath. Most of the film after this follows humanity as they try to defeat Barugon themselves! Gamera only shows up again at the very end to deliver the coup de grace! This was a Gamera movie where Gamera was a supporting character! But despite this, Gamera vs. Barugon is a relatively entertaining film about men in rubber suits pummeling each other into oblivion.

6/10

Wind Across the Everglades: Nicholas Ray

The following is a re-print of a mini essay I wrote for one of my graduate classes about Nicholas Ray's use of mise-en-scène in this film.

Is it possible to examine Wind Across the Everglades within the context of Nicholas Ray’s career? Is it even fair? After all, Ray was fired before the film’s completion. Somebody else had to finish and edit the film. Despite this, I would argue that the film fits alongside of Ray’s other works. The reasons why can best be illustrated by Ray’s use of blocking and shot composition. For most of the film, we witness Walt Murdock’s fight against Cottonmouth from his point of view. When he first meets Cottonmouth, it is in an upside-down shot from the inside of Murdock’s camera. After talking for a bit, Cottonmouth mysteriously disappears. In this shot, the frame mimics Murdock’s inability to follow him in the swamp. Compare this to scenes in Cottonmouth’s camp where the camera becomes more omnipotent, free from the visual inhibitions of a single character. During the last few scenes, the shots literally become distorted and blurry, thereby representing Murdock’s incredible fatigue. But the camera foregoes Murdock’s perspective during the scene where he confronts Cottonmouth at his camp during the storm. The shots should have become more and more blurry as Murdock became more and more inebriated. But the camera-work is steady and deliberate during these scenes where Murdock seems to bond with the outlaw and his men. Ray always identified with outsiders and renegades in his work. The fact that the camera becomes passive when Murdock is one with the outlaws enforces this. When he is with them, the world is in focus. When Murdock returns to the world of laws and conservation, his perspective falls out of that focus. All of this is echoed by Ray’s camera-work.

8/10