Reviews

Marvelous AND surreal biography of the craziest man ever to jump a phalanx of buses on "Wide World of Sports." When I was a kid I even had the Evel Knievel doll and revved-up bike--which could actually soar across the linoleum floor. Returning to the movie, you would be hard pressed to find a more carefree fellow than Evel. He prides himself on his plethora of broken bones and slipped disks. Actual footage of his real jumps is seamlessly cut into the film. It's truly amazing this man is still alive to this day. Remember, once he really did try to fly over a canyon named "Snake River." George Hamilton torpedoed his own career by making poor choices along the way--but this was his zenith. Sue Lyon lends a sympathetic ear and is easy on the eye. This movie promises even more when Mr. Knievel pops a wheelie across the Grand Canyon. Well, not really. But one can dream. Later on, Knievel would star in his own bio-pic called "Viva Knievel."

After knocking off 26 positive reviews I felt the need to slaughter a cinematic turkey of mammoth proportions. And this it. This movie will depress anyone who loves movies. I would hate to encounter anyone who likes this piece of sewage. There is nothing of value on screen: from the horrid acting of LL Cool J to the gratuitous street luge scene. If the director had an ounce of humor he would have used The Trashmen's "Surfin' Bird" here. But that would be asking too much. Instead, the film makers get together and trash a classic. When this happens someone must step in and play policeman and arrest the Hollywood perpetrators involved in this criminal mischief. You have the right to remain silent. Anything--Well, forget it. I believe the director lost his mind. The night vision scenes were visual poison. Puke green. Fuzzy. Shockingly enough, an entire reel or two of this utterly useless footage of a chase of some kind made it into the movie. I have this feeling the film was unintentionally overexposed. The Rollerball game cannot be followed by anybody sober. Loud. Noisy. What are the rules? There is not a scintilla of drama anywhere in this motion picture. Take this stinker out to the curb before it contaminates the rest of your dvd collection or damages your player. Wretched. Shame on all who were involved. And a pox on their homes, too.

Chloe Sevigny, the independent film princess, lands in the great emerald city by the sea. The final moments of the disco period are about to expire and she must dispose of her wickedly evil roommate, Kate Beckinsale. The disco is the epicenter of the film, the "Oz" if you will, where the wizard appears to control the music and lights of the city. Whit Stillman produces movies as often as the Olympics come around, but I like the tone he achieves here. Check-out the eighties publishing world depicted in the film. What's missing? No computers. The office seems less cluttered and more soothing to the creative spirit. There's an off-the-cuff reference to J.D. Salinger and his different works. There are many such random references scattered through the frames of the film. The director keeps you on your toes. The highlight of the film arrives on an iron horse by means of an impromptu dance sequence. The extemporaneous dance number spills out onto the subway platform and beyond the station. Nice touch.

Hiring a warrior to protect your leaky compound after a worldwide plague can be an iffy proposition. Having to fight off a menacing gang lead by a man named Carrot is also a dangerous endeavor. Yul Brynner is ably cast as "The Ultimate Warrior." He wields a knife with the precision of a rabbi. The film's final reel will confirm this. And Max von Sydow is always fun to watch as he wrestles with the dialog and the ultimate fate of the barricaded parish. I admire the fellow who tends the garden on the roof. A movie like this needs a ray of hope cracking through the grim reality taking place. Stephen McHattie, who played James Dean in the break out role that didn't pan out, has the thankless role of a father who is desperate to feed his family. The film's climax takes place in the city's subway tunnels and is honestly brutal in its resolution. Bravo to the director for his use of still photos at the end. He releases the frame briefly for a burst of light--and coastal bliss. Lastly, my "summary" can be rendered mute if the towers are rebuilt before the date established by the makers of the film. Lets go!

Vincent Price has always been an acquired taste for me. I remember in the Seventies he had a goofy kids television show that relied heavily on his horror persona. It lasted for a few years and died. The movie "The Last Man on Earth" is alive and well and living in the public domain.

The movie is bleak from the start. The shots of an unkept city, lifeless, and littered with corpses will knock your shoes off. So be careful where you walk. And don't go out after sunset. Never. Price is wonderful in playing a disheveled man on the brink of insanity. His haggard look and stooped posture goes miles in conveying his deep sense of loss. Richard Matheson's novel,the original source, was set in Los Angeles. But this film was lensed in Italy. I think the move across the pond was beneficial in creating its creepy atmosphere. The locations chosen reveal streets, cemeteries, and buildings of worship that all look a bit strange to the American eye. Even the trees and cars come across as being from another land. Not the United States. But a world where the dead could walk alongside the living. The undead shuffle along like patrons in an after-hours club, but they are still ghostly and menacing. They lust, like vampires, after the blood of Price. He in turn spends long hours and endless days wielding a mallet and stake like Barry Bonds. Only later will Price discover the secret behind the plague and his ultimate fate. He cheated science but in the end he payed the final price.

The reviews for this love story turned apocalyptic fable were never very good. This is a shame. I think the movie is a shocker to those expecting a low budget potboiler with its brain missing. Don't worry. The existential script was written on the go by a young Robert Towne. He also pulls double duty as the odd man out in this fatal love triangle. Filmed in Puerto Rico, an unusual decision for the time, and possibly prompted by Roger Corman's desire to work on vacation. The results he achieved were nothing short of amazing. No one ever accused Mr. Corman of not squeezing every cent out of a film's budget. The story takes an unusual turn when the three lucky survivors return from a diving outing and find a city of the dead. The character we think is going to be the strong hero reveals himself to be a lazy cynic with no plan of action and eyes for the only woman left in paradise. The use of a modern church, the Hilton Hotel and what had to have been an upscale private residence, were a nice contrast to the cobblestone streets of the barrio. An ancient fort by the sea is used to great effect during a chase scene. There is a disturbing shot of a dead girl resting against a curb, her hand raised to shield her eyes. I very much liked the mellow jazz score. And finally, the notion that the world will end in a fiery blast is challenged by simply sucking the oxygen out of air. Different, anyway.

Allied Artists pulls out their wallets and all the stops for this fantastic tale of men and mutants locked together in a time warp. The studio, at the time, had more in common with poverty row stalwarts like Eagle-Lion, Republic and Monogram, than the major studios of the era. But here they mounted a handsome production in "Cinemascope" and Technicolor. The major complaint about the film seems to concern the behavior and attitudes of the astronauts toward the females. I believe sexist and juvenile come to mind. But look a little under the surface and you will find the character of Deena. She breaks the typical space babe mold and develops an independent woman. Check out her courage in disobeying the elders as well as Rod Taylor, when she tags along in order to provide some practical information on the mutant culture. I can't believe I just wrote the words "mutant culture." In addition, I'm also aware that the costume department delivered the same mini-skirts which you might find in similar flicks of the period. But also remember that Star Trek dressed their female crew members in the same fashion--and in the late-sixties, too! I also like the engineer's character who is given feelings of sadness, regret and remorse when confronted with the ramifications of breaking the time barrier--with no means to return to his loved ones. Applause and salutations to the thoughtful screenwriter who delivered these pages.

The cult director Mario Bava toiled and dabbled in different genres before settling on the horror arena. He always elevated every movie he made with his sardonic sense of humor and warped sense of time and place. From the outrageous getup Diabolik wears to the wink-of-an-eye final shot, this movie exudes cool and hipness in stark contrast to a "hippy" generation concerned more with foolish radical politics. Realism is the enemy in a Bava film. He delights in turning everyday life upside down, creating a child-like kaleidescope of colors and textures. He uses his camera training to shoot at funky angles and in deep focus fields. Diabolik has a fetish for head-to-toe bodysuits. Strange? Not at all. Diabolik, after all, is a criminal. But we root for him over the decent civil servant, Inspector Ginco, who is hot on his trail to the very end. Ennio Morricone's score is glorious and wacky. I've heard the original studio tapes are lost forever. Sounds like a job for Diabolik.

This baroque and utterly implausible action drama subscribes to the over-the-top theory of movie making. Huge quantities of bullets, bikers and bad apples are unleashed on Mr.Eastwood, Ms. Locke, his remand witness, and us, the audience. Eastwood executes the gauntlet with great resolve and resourcefulness: he even knows how to fortify a bus with armored plates. Clint is in peak form and Locke will never again reach the heights that she does here. Clearly, the two have wonderful screen chemistry and would remain together as a couple for more than a decade. Watching the film today, I think there is a scene that went missing--or was cut. It occurred at the beginning of the movie and involved the sadistic police commissioner and Locke's prostitute. The scene is later described in great detail by Locke when she and Clint are on the lam in a desert cave. So where is it? My dad took me to see this "R" rated film on a bitterly cold night in early February '78--it was released in late '77. I think he was unaware of the rating because I did get an eyeful that night. Make sure you see this movie letterboxed in order to absorb all the destructive power and subtle artistry on display.

Fondly remembered by all who saw it back in the 70's, this end-of-the-world flick packs a punch. I caught the last forty minutes about a year ago on an independent channel--which temporarily replaced another station that was being primed for a Spanish-language channel takeover. Could this made-for-tv movie have been inspired by the Star Trek episode titled "The Omega Glory"? There are striking similarities: most notably the state of the doomed crews' bodies. In the movie, however, the disease is caused by solar flares. You don't need elaborate and costly effects to convey the desperation and fear in the survivors' milieu. The situation itself is enough. Peter Graves sheds his B-movie threads and delivers a heroic performance as the father who leads by example and care, never loosing sight of their goal to hook up with their loved ones. The director, John Llewellyn Moxey, has deservedly earned his cult status. His television resume is impressive: The Night Stalker, The Last Child, Genesis II, Home for the Holidays, as well as the pilots for Kung Fu and Charlie's Angels.

Restored by the people at Anchor Bay(the movie's bookend acts are tinted in sepia tones) this Science Fiction classic from 1961 won the British Academy Award for Best Screenplay. The movie's script is easily the best ever produced for this genre. It compares favorably with another film set in a newspaper environment, "All the President's Men." The premise of the movie concerns the two super powers testing nuclear devises in opposite hemispheres and subsequently knocking the Earth off its axis and sending it careening toward the sun. The actors are the stars of the day here. Edward Judd is excellent in his first major role. Janet Munro, hot off a three-picture deal with Disney, has a natural fresh beauty and handles the snappy dialog with keen skill. Leo McKern almost steals the the movie out from underneath the stars. Judd's character is portrayed as a heavy drinker who has trouble keeping up with his workload. McKern covers for him on more than one occasion. The scenes between Judd and Munro are simply magnificent and take on a prophetic and poignant epilogue. Sadly, Munro in real life was the drunk and died before the age of forty from heart disease caused by alcoholism. Judd, on the other hand is sober, and still working. Leo McKern had a long and rewarding career which ended last year when he died. Ultimately, I would not hesitate to show this movie to people who despise this genre. The movie is that good.

One of these days soon we will see another remake of Richard Matheson's seminal Horror novella. If we do, I hope the marquee will read: "I Am Legend." This should be done for no other reason than to make it easier for Sci-Fi nerds to argue and champion their personal favorite. But I have this feeling the producers will take the easy way out.

Boris Sagal, the veteran television director, who died under the most grisly of circumstances--he walked into a helicopter blade--helms a brilliant adaptation of the book. Sure, they changed the vampires into psychotic albinos. And they also injected a heavy dose of the Seventies counter-culture. But the essential themes resist the tampering by the new screenwriters and remain solid story chestnuts. No one handles a weapon with such verve as Mr. Heston. He fires at random and generally hits something. Always a good approach in this type of movie. I enjoy his conversations with Caesar's bust in his "Honky paradise". The sculptures and paintings on the walls are actual reproductions of the immortals they represent. Also, check out the art work on the back of "Dutch's" jacket. It packs a wallop. Ron Grainer's score is legendary and has a elegiac feel punctuated by strange sounds from obscure instruments. The action scenes rival the best. Catch Heston's despair and loneliness when he jogs by a large office building along side a reflecting pool. Every scene is chock full of memorable lines and quirky bits of business. The bodies of the dead pop up randomly with a wild note on the soundtrack. There is a brief nude scene that for once fits into the plot. A standing ovation is in order for anyone left alive.

Based on a novel titled "The Build Up Boys," this lavishly produced widescreen movie was an unknown quantity for me until I discovered it on the Fox Movie Channel. The opening montage of colossal skyscrapers and city denizens rushing to work is very promising. Perhaps that is why what transpires next is so stupefyingly dull. Nothing really works here. David White, Larry on "Bewitched", utters a scary bit of dialogue: "Milk is actually a solid and should be sipped and chewed." Confused? So am I. There is more of that snappy banter between the sexes. It doesn't work here, either. Unfortunately, there is also a good deal of uncomfortable leering and lecherous behavior going on in a professional environment. The type of behavior which would get you fired or slapped with a lawsuit ASAP. Dana Andrews has always been a favorite actor of mine. But I longed to see his real-life brother, Steve Forest, show up with his "S.W.A.T." buddies just to stir things up a little. Jean Crain, another favorite of mine, plays a gossip columnist and "rock hound!" Go figure that one out. The opening musical theme has a simple piano melody over a lush background orchestration. I liked it.

I really wanted to like this sophisticated flick so I viewed it again. Same response. Maybe I will watch it a third time. I don't give up easily.

Bigotry undermines this unholy trio's effort to execute the ultimate robbery. The actors whipped up for this illegal exercise are played by Harry Belafonte, Robert Ryan and Ed Begley. The volatile chemistry between the three desperate fellows fuels this bleak film noir from the late Fifties. Once again, there is some gorgeous on location photography in Manhattan, especially Central Park. Fine Jazz and Calypso music are served up at the smoky club where Belafonte works. Crooked camera angles and cluttered set direction contribute nicely to a claustrophobic atmosphere. The apartment building where Begley resides has a weird elevator that has multiple exit doors as well as an operator who likes to talk about the wind piercing the elevator shaft. The dames--Gloria Grahame and Shelly Winters--are rough but warm around the edges. Wayne Rogers makes his debut in a small role as a braggart in a bar. Stick around for the killer final and be blown away.

Along with the Bowery Boys, the Three Stooges and perhaps Elvis, no one was as good at churning out motion pictures quickly and on a tight budget than Abbot and Costello. Even present day comedians such as Carol Burnett and Jerry Seinfeld have heaped praise on the boys' slapstick brand of comedy. I've always felt they were greatly underappreciated in their day. And as the years pass by, their presence on the tube has, sadly, decreased. Most kids today probably have never been exposed to the thin straight man and his rotund buddy.

I own only one A&C comedy. And this is it. Why? Maybe its because of "Allura", the queen, played by the beautiful B-movie siren Mari Blanchard. Discarding the "spell" theory one must assume the special effects are superb. And the fantasy elements are enjoyable and surprisingly well thought out and executed. The rocket ship nearly decapitates the Statue of Liberty, fails to pay the toll at the Lincoln Tunnel and scoots underneath the Brooklyn Bridge. But the movie is simply a ride through a different era: a time of comedy, scientists and space babes. Well, everyone should be afforded one guilty pleasure.

S-A-N-T-A C-L-A-U-S Hooray for Santy Claus

The best science fiction film ever made in Queens, N.Y. opens up with a theme song no one who watches will ever forget. I had Santa Claus as a spelling word in second grade and remembering the song was like having an ace in the hole for that test. The Martian children are depressed about Christmas and their lack of presents. The King, Kimar, ventures out to confide with the old man in the Martian caves. Of course he points Kimar in the right direction before suffering a severe case of spontaneous combustion. Puff! The Martian's complexion is ruddy and they resemble the Klingons from "Star Trek". Voldar is the villain because he has a mustache and doesn't follow orders. I think Voldar's bad attitude is terrific. He also has more wisdom than the elder who is older than dirt. The crazy headgear makes little sense and their weaponry--the wham-o guns--are a laugh riot. Dropo is strictly present for comic relief. Kimar's wife is a handsome Martian female but doesn't do much but dole out food pills. The art direction is note worthy--especially a water sculpture at Kimar's residence and the alien landscape of the planet. The interior of the ship is okay and the special effects competent. I also like Santa's workshop and that wild polar bear with the zipper up his back. The reporter has a strange response:"Wow we wow" when he catches a glimpse of a Martian doll. This is a cool stocking stuffer for the adult as well as the child.

Vastly underrated comedy delivered by Bob Hope and friends. The movie is a snapshot of N.Y.C., circa 1964, that puts on display a lifestyle--unlimited cocktails, swingin' chicks and cool, smoky music--which no longer breathes. This film has more smoking, drinking, and carefree carousing ever photographed on celluloid for a family film. The ridiculous plot concerns a child abandoned at the U.N., who somehow becomes the international focal point for peace. Hope is given custody of the silent tyke by default(Why no one calls the authorities is anyone's guess?) At the time, Bob Hope was sixty years old! My girl friend was surprised he was THAT old--she thought he looked around forty. There is an interesting battle between humans and pets in this movie. Hope's landlord hates children but loves animals. There is an extended scene at a snooty dog show where Hope looses the kid and gets dragged by a huge pooch. However, the strangest moment has to be when Hope needs to smuggle the "world's baby" into his bachelor pad and past his troublesome landlord. His solution: put him in a dog-carrier and pass him off as man's best friend. Now, where was Child Welfare? There is some nice on location photography and one far-out cameo by Adlai Stevenson, a year before he died. Also, Billy Halop appears briefly as yet another cab driver{see "Mister Buddwing"}; he was a fixture at the time always playing working class types. View this film at a tiki bar with a drink and Dean Martin on the juke box. If that is at all possible.

After capturing the hearts and minds of most teen boys in America, Farrah Fawcett branched out into posters and films. Leaving behind "Charlie's Angels" and fame and fortune, Farrah embarked on her "S" trilogy. The middle installment in the trilogy was aptly titled "Sunburn"(the other two movies were called "Somebody Killed Her Husband" and "Saturn 3") and involved Miss Farrah's teaming with Charles Grodin and their ability to portray themselves as husband and wife. The reason for the elaborate ruse is to clean up a phony suicide claim. Insurance fraud has never seemed more exciting as it does here, where you can walk outside into the streets of Acapulco or slip into a million dollar chateau for a cocktail party. Speaking of posters this film has one of the best: Farrah in a one-piece that defies gravity, Grodin with a sidearm and Art Carney parachuting in on a pair of sunglasses with the ocean in the background. Oh, well, maybe you should purchase the poster instead. But if you don't wish to watch three straight Farrah Fawcett films on a summer' afternoon, pair this one up with the Mexican-set, Neo-Noir classic, "Against All Odds."

While channel-surfing the backwaters of digital cable, I came across a whitecap of historical political incorrectness. Gary Moore, the winsome host of "I've Got A Secret," dons an overcoat and muffler at the start of the broadcast. He then breaks the "fourth wall" of the studio on West 47th Street, ventures out into the bitter cold of a New York winter's night and corals a fifteen year old boy on his way to a show. Moore invites the kid in to be a contestant on HIS show. The boy's secret: "I was brought in from the street" easily stumps the celebrity panel. The young man wins two prizes: eighty dollars and a carton of Winston cigarettes--the show's lone sponsor.

Can you imagine the outrage today if a television host gave a minor a carton of smokes? The fifties WERE a simpler time.

In the mid-sixties there was a song that hit the pop charts no less than five times, and was performed by countless bar, garage, tex-mex, soul and psychedelic bands of the period. Wilson Picket had the big hit--chart-wise--but the best rendering of the song was from a "live" version by Cannibal and the Headhunters (my favorite name devised by a sixties rock band). It was a good song, a bit raw perhaps, but it was still the perfect anthem for the young people of the day. The record was called "Land of a 1000 Dances," and there were almost as many ways to get the feet moving and the heart pumping. A good deal of the charm of watching the movie is supplied by the go-go dancers (female and male), who perform the dances of the era: the swim, jerk, frug, shake, pony, monkey, the fly, watusi, and many others. The dancers are splendidly choreographed into the musical numbers, while not diminishing any of the energy of the music. In fact, no one ever accused James Brown of needing any help in cutting loose--and he doesn't disappoint here . Vintage footage of Mick Jagger and the Rolling Stones is priceless. And some performers--Bo Diddly and Ike and Tina Turner--have brought along their own bands to accompany the madness. Other musical highlights include Jan and Dean singing and skateboarding to "Sidewalk Surfin'"; Leslie Gore's infectious vocals; The Miracles demonstrating "The Monkey,"; and the most aerobic and best choreographed dance sequences in the film, performed by eight female go-go dancers in the background of the girl group, The Ronnetes. The only negative things about the film are the overall sound quality, the deafening screams from the audience and the singing of Smokey Robinson (he's in bad voice) which reminds me of the rock singer in the "Flintstones" episode, who ate too many pickled dodo eggs and his lost voice. The film overcomes its few minor drawbacks and stands today as one of the few filmed records of the music world at that time.

Pay no attention to previous posts. I was expecting nothing from this moving picture and was shocked by the creative trickery of its director, Coleman Francis. The opening is terrific: a woman, toweling off and briefly uncovered, moves from the bathroom into a sparsely furnished bedroom. A stuffed tiger rests at the foot of her bed. Symbolism,anyone. The soundtrack is quiet except for a ticking clock. In a matter of seconds a huge pair of hands strangles the life out of her. Too bad--she showed promise. Nonetheless, an impressive beginning. The subsequent musical cue over the rolling credits rattles the teeth and straightens the spine. The movie maker has some how fashioned a silent horror film, circa 1960, with two, count them, two special effects: a mushroom cloud and a burning briefcase. But there are more problems on the horizon: no dubbing, poor story navigation and a narration that seems to have been piped in from another dimension. Nevertheless, the movie has balls. The "Beast" is properly scary and ominous. The questionable police tactics are a hoot. Why does the fellow in the plane go out of his way to shoot an innocent man? The target of this trigger-happy lawman is a father searching for his lost boys. Maybe, as the negatives pile up, I should rethink my initial positive response. But I keep thinking back to the opening scene and what relation it had to rest of the film. My conclusion: the director must have pirated the footage from some discarded art film. Anyway, this movie might not be for everyone--but I dug it.

So the final entry in the Planet of the Apes series takes liberties with the timeline and the plot wanders through other prior installments, but I feel the movie delivers a degree of pathos seldom seen in a sequel. The bookend scenes involving the Lawgiver, John Huston in heavy make up, speaking to a group of schoolchildren--apes and humans--tie up the saga nicely, leaving open the future for more sequels.(Tim Burton in his dreadful remake should have filled in the blanks instead of "reimagining" a different world of apes. Only my opinion.) Things I like include the character Mandemus, keeper of the armory(Caesar's conscience), the trek to the radioactive city, Caesar's viewing of his dead parents in the Hall of Records and the final ambiguous shot of the movie. The money allocated to Leonard Rosenman's impressive score was well spent. The pop singer Paul Williams display a deft touch for acting in his debut. Try and catch this screen gem on Fox Movie Channel and you will be treated to additional scenes involving the always looming doomsday bomb. And special praise to J.Lee Thompson for delivering more with less.

Maybe because I've woke up on my share of park benches--this film hits home. James Garner is perfectly cast as the lost and befuddled gent who cannot recall his name or identity. Some may feel perplexed by his choice of name: Buddwing, taken from an air plane and beer truck. This makes perfect sense to me insofar as he spent the previous evening in a bar drinking and has suffered a shock of some kind. The movie begins with the camera as Buddwing's eyes and moves and walks off into the urban landscape. The technique is groundbreaking and striking. I like how Garner checks his pockets and hands looking for some clues to his name and identity. But when he finds only a Metro-North train schedule, a scrap of paper with a phone number and two pills, the mystery deepens. Acting honors go to Suzanne Pleshette, Jean Simmons and Angela Lansbury. Billy Halop, the original leader of the Dead End Kids, shows up as cab driver #2. He would later gain fame as another cabby, "Munson," on All in the family. TCM shows this movie with a "making of" documentary proceeding it. Someone must have felt they were creating something special. And they did.