No No! Stick To The Status Quo: High School Musical (2006)

I when first undertaking the "experience" that proved to be High School Musical I thought that I would just pick the most absurd line in the entire film as the quote for the blog title.  There were quite a few options to choose from, but while watching I realized that the "Stick To The Status Quo" song which is apparently intended to promote diversity and extending beyond one's assumed roles in life, is really quite arbitrary in a film that suggests as long as you stick to your original accepted lifestyle, it is permissible to be curious about the world around you, but again as long as you are successful at your socially prescribed role.  I understand that this was a made for television movie that aired on Disney Channel, but damn if it was not the most popular thing upon the time of its release, particularly for a young and impressionable crowd of people, who might have seen the half-hearted, poorly made movie as a sign of pushing diversity or new ideas into the world.  I am not lying when I say that some of the acting and production value at play in High School Musical is worse than The Room.  At least, there is a sense of endearing misdirection in the so-bad-it's-good cult classic, here considering the budget dumped on this film, it is inconceivable that it is anything less than well-executed.  In terms of a musical, High School Musical also falters considerably as it relies on glaringly obvious post-production sound and is so heavily edited during the choreographed sequences as to make one wonder as to whether or not any performer knew their dance routine beyond say two or three steps.  If Disney was ever clear in its failed intents on promoting diversity, it is right here in this film that almost seems smug in how well it is able to check off its "look we have this person of color" checklist and does the bare minimum necessary to deal with any sort of body politics.  Stick to the status quo, while not the intended mantra of this inconceivably bad piece of television movie execution, nonetheless, proves to be its reality.  Indeed, High School Musical is so concerned with middle-grade normative execution in terms of narrative that at times it almost seems to be ironic, and where it released by any other company than Disney I might be able to follow such a possibility.  Here, however, it is just in bad taste.

High School Musical begins in some bizarre space of a Christmas break resort, where the young Troy Bolton (Zac Efron) finds himself more occupied with spending time with his dad and school basketball coach Jack Bolton (Bart Johnson) than taking in the festivities created for him and the others at the resort.  At the prodding of his mother, he agrees to attend a social for teenagers, where he is forced to sing karaoke alongside Gabrielle Montez (Vanessa Hudgens).  The two, despite their initial nervousness, hit it off and find themselves exchanging numbers, only to lose each other in the crowd of New Years partiers.  When Troy returns to school the following week, he discovers his basketball teams, most notably Chad (Corbin Bleu) in place, alongside his admirer and school drama star Sharpay Evans (Ashley Tisdale) in line to engage in another normal year of school, with Troy as star basketball player and Sharpay as theatrical ingenue.  Yet, when Troy turns in class to discover Gabrielle in attendance he is immediately exited, realizing that it is his opportunity to rekindle their burgeoning interest from the break, a stroke a fate too great to pass up.  Both concerned with their ability to fit in under varied demands, Troy remaining a symbol of athletic prowess and Gabrielle navigating between being welcomed and avoiding becoming the brainiac girl, the two coalesce on auditioning for the drama departments annual musical, much to the confusion of the faux-erudite drama teacher Ms. Darbus (Alyson Reed).  The confusion is quickly removed when the two sing and all in attendance realize their skill, particularly the apprehensive Sharpay and her performance partner, sibling Ryan (Lucas Grabeel).  Needless to say sabotage becomes a thing of necessity as not only do the Evans siblings see the danger in their success, Chad and leader of the academic team Taylor McKessie (Monique Coleman) also want to quash their dreams, hoping that by doing so their respective organizations will succeed. After tricking the two into stepping down, the guilt proves to great and they manage to fix the status of both the big game and academic match to afford the two auditioning time, much to the pleasure of the entire school.  In the end the two rekindle their romance and a few other heteronormative pairings happen as a result.

This movie is half-concieved.  Hell, I would even go so far a to say that it was lacking in any sort of conceptual understanding of narrative gaps at all.  There are moments of contradiction in this film that just seem absolutely wrong to the point of being frustrating.  Set in the most nondescript of places Albuquerque, New Mexico, High School Musical pushes to create a space where all persons are represented.  Indeed, this is a rather normal trope in regards to the high school film, but it is also used in a much more knowing irony in say a John Hughes movie, or definitely so in Clueless. Here it is solely a result of a group of producers thinking they could profit hugely from creating a piece of young adult media that could be consumed by all.  However, the only people who would buy such malarky would have to be from upper-middle class status, although in such a situation as to believe that they are still situated within a lower class identity.  High School Musical, in fact, suffers most from its seeming willingness to embrace a society where all persons are on an equal financial footing.    Take for example, Troy's dad and his emphasis on the financial burden which will be removed from their family if he were to gain a scholarship.  The amount of escapist idealism here is treated with the same sense of urgency at play in the deeply moving and socially troubling documentary Hoop Dreams.  Were it to be a narrative where Troy was clearly from an impoverished family this would be less complicated morally, but it is worth remembering that the film begins with he and his family at a winter resort, in which money is clearly necessary to obtain.  If this were not enough, however, the fact that Troy is able to also play basketball on a regulation size court in his own backyard is a rather huge advantage and one that is afforded to a person of considerable wealth.  This is all layered on top of a reality where the students at this school are privileged with the funds to have a drama, sports and academic department that are fully funded and capable of pulling together full teams with the newest equipment and resources.  Without rambling further, High School Musical suffers most from its refusal to acknowledge the privilege within which it situations its narrative.

Key Scene:  ...ummm, there is a line that Coach Bolton delivers that is nearly inaudible, I guess it is my favorite part of the film.

Avoid this film, I watched it so you do not have to, instead, go watch a Busby Berkeley musical.  Also Zac Efron has the stupidest faces in this movie.

You Are Doing Good Just Bring It Down A Bit: A Chorus Line (1985)

I was made to believe that A Chorus Line was some modern classic in the way of the musical, navigating a space that had at the time yet to truly be uncovered.  Sure, it is quite intriguing for the ways in which it meshes together the traditional aspects of the musical film with a social realist drama that pinpoints all the intersections of difficulty at play in the world of professional dancers and their aspirations.  I could expand rather instinctively on how this is a great thing to consider in film, but becomes rather disconcerting when done in the exploitative way shown in A Chorus Line.  I could do a ton of these things and be completely warranted in my opinions.  However, on the other end I could defend it for its audacious and at times incredibly ambitious cinematography that manes to make the cramped stage of a chorus line audition seem to fill the world, or discuss how absolutely stellar Michael Douglas proves to be in a film where he rarely leaves the space of a casting chair.  I could go one of two ways with this film and certainly find a following and opposition in either camp.  While i am inclined to lean slightly towards it being a decent film, I know in my heart that A Chorus Line is about as middle of the road as a musical can come, particularly when it has a tendency to fall under its own datedness.  As a musical it hits all the necessary points, even digging a bit deeper than normal when the endeavor proves advantageous, unfortunately, the sort of fabrication at play makes it a matter of accepting that everyone will be afforded a chance to tell their unique perspectives is about as overly idealistic a thing that will ever happen in this particularly traditionalist genre.  A Chorus Line asks for moments of truth from its characters and since it exists in a layered space of the performance, there seems to be a knowing relationship between the dancers and the person shooting the film as to how created the entire process is, but also how important it can be to pushing their own careers forwards, as this proved to be either a definitive breaking point for cinematic success.

A Chorus Line begins about as in media res as a musical could, in so much as it looks at a group of initially nondescript dancers pouring their hearts into a dance number that is been over seen by the choreographer Larry (Terrance Mann).  The group consisting of several dozen performs fill up the space of the stage, hoping to do precisely what is necessary to catch a glimpse of interest from premier choreographer Zach (Michael Douglas).  Indeed, Zach is almost indifferent to the initial tryouts standing like a ghost in the background as lines upon lines of performers dance for his amusement, eventually using the help of his assistant and head choreographer Larry (Terrence Mann) to break down the group to roughly ten applicants including a variety of men and women all competing for, in the end eight parts.  The group is possessive of a variety of different faces, whether it be aging dancer Val Clarke (Audrey Landers) who seems a bit jaded about her hopes and dreams, or the brash Gregory Gardner (Justin Ross) who makes his gay identity known in a very empowering, albeit confrontational, way.  Together they represent a group hoping to attain the one job that will afford them a big break, all the while Zach judging their every move, this becomes more so the case when Zach's former lover and noted dancer Cassie (Alyson Reed) attends the tryouts.  She, along with the remainder of the group, expound upon why they decided to become dancers, whether it be one girl's desire to replicate the success of a small town Rockette, or another who always felt himself to be a bit more in line with his sister, literally wearing her shoes to attend a dance class on the fly.  Zach still secretive about exactly what his show will entail, pries and pulls for these various stories, even coming to relate closely to one young man named Paul (Cameron English) taking special consideration for him when his knee gives out during the beleaguering tryouts.  In the end, Zach does narrow it down to a select group in a manner that reconsiders how one assumes their ability and the receiving of accolades, although the closing number suggests that with the right amount of willpower every person can achieve the singular goal of their lives.

A Chorus Line is rather obvious in its premise that the musical is something that is enjoyed for its spectacle and very little, if anything, is made to consider how involved the personal lives of those on the stage become, indeed, each member of the line possessing their own unique, and often complex, life.  Instead, accolades and admiration is often mounted towards individuals like the producer or director who are seen as visionaries and geniuses, in its own way taking on an issue of gendering in all varieties of the performing arts.  A Chorus Line exists to show these stories within the context of the musical, moving away from the spectacle to the reality of those involved and in some ways it really works filmically, providing genius use of the inner monologue through song as a way of working within the genre, but also keeping it decidedly personal, however, it is also embracing of the spectacle in ways that make a lot of the scenarios become wrought with over performance and sensationalism that simply pad the encounters from any sense of earnestness, particularly when intended to be jarring and unsettling.  There are some rather serious considerations of racial identity that are swept under the table as passing jokes, ones that Zach seems considerably flippant towards, indeed, ignoring his own space of privilege, both as a white male, but also a person who has managed to make it big in the industry.  Sitting, almost as if his own personal panoptician, Zach is capable of judging those below him on a variety of issues, only feigning interest in their personal lives as it affords him personal advancement to his artistic vision.  He seems dismissive of othering, while also fascinated by the curiosity that comes with such identities, although in the end he seems quite content to fall back on his relationship with Cassie, her traditional beauty and normalcy becoming a thing of admiration, even affording her the ability to skip the more arduous elements of a tryout and eventually find her place within a chorus line.  The film wants to consider the ways in which intersections of identity play into the world of dance and theatre, but it also does not seem intent on being the least bit edgy in the process.

Key Scene:  Let Me Dance for You is good, but a bit too over the top at times.

A Chorus Line is a decent film, but, honestly, there are quite a few more musicals that are well worth your time.

They're Eating The Guests, Sir: Piranha (1978)

Liminality is a word that gets thrown around in a lot of theory circles to discuss that space in between one thing and another, some sort of impossible space that can only be occupied in a transitory phase.  Think of a doorway as an appropriate metaphor to this idea.  I bring up this idea because I can only describe Piranha as a film that exists in the liminal stage between good and bad, in so much that it cannot be quantifiably described as either.  In some cases this sort of enigmatic existence can prove to make the film absolutely captivating, demanding a constant reconsideration of how and why one categorizes a film, whether it be for performances, cinematic value or narrative considerations, even moving on to look at how less quantifiable elements might affect ones relationship with the film.  Indeed, the opening scenes of this film were actually ones that, upon viewing, took me back to childhood having seen the film on some late night screening, much to my surprise considering the use of nudity and violence.  Yet, even in this flittering moment of curiosity I could not get over how middle-of-the-road this film ended up being, at times excelling at its execution, particularly in the use of stop motion early in the story and at other times completely lacking any sense of continuity and structure, jumping from one point of action to another with a less than appropriate edit.  I want so desperately to pick up on the elements that make it a cult classic, but despite a great soundtrack and an overabundance of mocking directed specifically towards Jaws, for which it is clearly ripping off, there is none of the earnestness or absurdity warranting it such a status.  Sure the alcoholic lone man character coming in contact with the doe eyed young investigator has shades of implausibility and humor, but these are not backed up by any sense of creating a narrative arc that plays upon this, even in an uncomfortable and ill-conceived manner.  Piranha is some sort of either/or film in that it is either atrocious or brilliant, but does not carry itself in a way to suggest that it wants to be investigated as such, instead being a work that unfolds in an underwhelming tale of river travel, summer camp coming-of-age discomfort and what might have been a backstory involving corrupt politics.

Piranha begins with a young couple sneaking behind the barriers of a restricted area in order to go skinny dipping in a lake, while their initial endeavor seems harmless if not gross for the area appearing to be a sanitation, when the young man is dragged under the water by an unseen creature, the girl panics swimming away, only to also be captured by the creature, thus beginning the film proper, as a young woman named Maggie McKeown (Heather Menzies-Hurich) enters the area of Lost River Lake, hoping to uncover exactly what happened to the teens from the opening portion of the film.  Knowing that she is unfamiliar with the space she attempts to recruit the help of Paul Grogan (Bradford Dillman) a river guide whose recent divorce has resulted in him forming an absurd degree of alcoholism, one that includes drinking liquor directly from a canteen.  Despite his problems, he agrees to help Maggie and the two immediately investigate the blocked off area, planning on draining the water to see what has happened.  In the process of doing so they are momentarily stopped by Dr. Hoak (Kevin McCarthy) a man who explains himself as an employee of the military that had been working to create a particular breed of flesh eating fish for warfare purposes in the Vietnam, the hatchery just happening to be in Lost River Lake and Maggie and Paul's meddling has unleashed the population into the space of the river, threatening to attack campers and the community alike, all who use the lake as a point of enjoyment.  Indeed, the damage these creatures can cause becomes apparent when one of Paul's friends is attacked while fishing on the dockside resulting in the man's grandson joining in the group as they attempt to evacuate the lake and stifle the infestation of the deadly piranhas.  Paul is also doubly concerned about rescuing his daughter Suzie (Shannon Collins) whose own past fears of the water become manifested when the attacks occur at her camp, proving her somewhat of an asshole camp counselor Mr. Dumont (Paul Bartel) wrong in his criticism.  Simultaneous to all this is the attempts by individuals like Dr. Mengers (Barbara Steele) and Colonel Waxman (Bruce Gordon) to poison the river, hoping that it will kill the fish, although past attempts at such methods have proved equally futile.  Attempts to flood the water prove futile and although the spreading of the fish into the ocean occurs, Mengers goes on the radio to claim that the problems are over, a statement that is countered by the shrill sound of piranhas in the closing shots of the film.

I guess if anything the film was attempting to be a take on the, then, still burgeoning environmental horror film.  Of course, as noted earlier it is blatantly an attempt to counter the status and power of Jaws, often blatantly mocking the film either in subtle ways through soundtrack cues, or more obvious moments as is the case with the Jaws arcade game being shown early on, a notion of child's play being attached to the former, albeit far superior film.  Nonetheless, Piranha flails to make connections between the way in which nature has rebelled against the pollution and degradation enacted by humanity, whether it be political or military oriented, in the clear and blatant ways.  Yet, filmmaker Joe Dante also draws attention to how these groups are far from the only ones engaging in destructive actions, considering how something assumedly beneficial like a summer camp might also double as a look at capitalist desires and overpowering the space of the natural only to be replaced by docks, cabins and other manmade places intended to, ironically, get closer to nature.  This pollution or environment degrade also takes on metaphorical elements within the film, as the individuals who desire to find purity through water (the opening scene skinny dippers) are not only made to be foolish, but also destroyed in their actions.  The act of attempting to harness the environmental to be used in a destructive manner against others, here in the militaristic sense, is also critiqued, shown to be so dangerous that even the concern for justice by one group could result in the annihilation of a river or in a worse case the entirety of humanity.  It takes on a decidedly more poignant, but probably accidental, narrative when it is suggested that these ferocious piranhas were to specifically used in Vietnam, a space of warfare that was particularly troublesome for American troops who found the natural world impossible to navigate, often dying as a result of the fungi, diseases and general lack of basic necessities in the space as opposed to actual violence.  Finally, pollution takes on an interpersonal level with an individual like Paul who seems to want to pursue a Thoreau like return to the natural, but cannot get over his own frustrations and find a space of natural enlightenment, thus becoming a point of personal pollution through his alcoholism.

Key Scene:  The stop motion elements which become arbitrary in the convoluted plot are really quite amazing and lovingly hearken back to films like the low-budget wonder that is Equinox.

This is on Netflix Watch Instantly, it is more a curiosity than a necessary viewing, but to be fair it is also a major work in the narrative of genre film, so watching it for a sense of completist viewing is not illogical.

This Is Not A House, It Is A Machine: Thir13en Ghosts (2001)

This (Thir13en Ghosts) and the spelling in the title will be the only times I acknowledge the correct spelling of Thirteen Ghosts because it is a pain in the ass to type quickly and is frankly rather obnoxious in that it really serves no purpose aside from going out of its way to be different, or possibly to avoid some issues in copyright that were likely faced by the producers of this film.  Indeed, the trying to be cool that translates into obnoxiousness is perhaps the best way to describe what is occurring in Thirteen Ghosts, a bit of 2001 flare that was brought to my attention when I heard an employee at the great land of high film tastes Blockbuster, suggesting it to a customer, claiming that it was one of the better scary movies of the past decade or so.  To be fair, this Blockbuster was going out of business and I had a copy of Session 9 in my hand ready to purchase, incidentally a far superior film (my personal favorite of horror cinema) and a work that came out in the same year.  I, as is usual, am digressing from the film at hand Thirteen Ghosts, or what could also be described as the biggest squandering of potential committed in the digital age.  Thirteen Ghosts does a few really cool things visually throughout, but for every bit of great work done, even the glaringly outdated CGI, there are a ton of terrible narrative choices, only doubled by a lot of blatant breaks in continuity or signifiers of bad, or more appropriately lazy, filmmaking.  It is almost too obvious that all the film's budget was dumped into the makeup and special effects for this film, which do pay off, even if cheesy by contemporary standards wherein post-production has become exponentially better, allowing for the uses of such creatures to more evocatively work.  Indeed, for being little more than a barebones labyrinth narrative, Thirteen Ghosts never really amounts to anything remotely tangible, given minimally realized characters, placed in a space hat is clearly influenced by the point and click adventure world of only a few years prior, one could mistake this work as a misguided labor of love by Steve Beck, whose only two directorial efforts come in the way of somewhat obscure horror film remakes, but attaching the term love to this would suggest it was made with any degree of passion, which is far from the case and as much as Tony Shalhoub tries to save this film with his acting, there are only so many ways even the most season of actors can deliver the phrase "what is going on?"

Thirteen Ghosts begins with paranormal hunter Cyrus Kriticos (F. Murray Abraham) and his psychic aid Dennis Rafkin (Matthew Lillard) attempting to track down a violent ghost, one that Cyrus claims is necessary to an unexplained quest.  After fending off a few competing paranormal experts Cryrus and by unwilling involvement Dennis, are able to capture a ghost, but it is at the result of Cyrus' life.  The narrative then flashes forward to show the experiences of the Arthur Kriticos (Tony Shalhoub) a recently widowed father who is attempting to make due in a cramped apartment with his daughter Kathy (Shannon Elizabeth) and son Bobby (Alec Roberts), his teachers salary barely able to afford the aid of a maid named Maggie (Rah Digga).  When an unsuspected knock at the door reveals lawyer Benjamin Moss (JR Bourne) informing Arthur that he has inherited a house from his late uncle Cyrus he cautiously accepts the offer and travels with his family and Maggie in tow to the house, a building entirely made of windows covered in Latin writing, awaiting there is arrival is Dennis, passing as an electrician, who is equally eager to enter the house.  The unassuming Arthur allows him to do so and the entire group, including Benjamin, begin exploring the house cautiously.  It becomes clear rather quickly through a combination of Dennis revealing his true identity and the splitting of the group that the house is even more bizarre than its looks would suggest, indeed proving to be a large machinery that serves as both a caging device to a variety of ghosts, including Arthur's late wife, all intended to work together in an ancient configuration to open up what Dennis calls The Eye of Hell.   However, given that the process requires one last ghost, a sacrifice by a broken hearted individual, Arthur realizes that there is a real possibility that he might have to kill himself in order to save his family.  All through this endeavor, the ghosts, many of which met violent deaths chase the persons in the house, killing a few in the process.  After the arrival of another ghost hunter and the reemergence of Cyrus from what may or may not be the dead, it becomes clear that Arthur's task might be a bit different than assumed, but no less predicated upon making sure he and his children are not killed by the thirteen ghosts roaming the halls of the house.

The plot is rather straightforward in Thirteen Ghosts, as noted serving as a means to show off a set of creepy ghosts and a few, at the time, impressive tricks with CGI.  Where the film seems to fail is in its attempts to synthesize these various elements into anything productive, even kowtowing to prevailing trends in the genre at the time.  Clearly working in a post-Asian horror invasion, many of the ghosts are created more for a creepy factor than a sense of threat, although The Hammer (Herbert Duncanson) is wholly intended to be slasher.  However, the way creepy ghosts work is to provide them with a sense of constant impending dread, as is the case with The Girl in the Ring, or pretty much every spectral entity in The Exorcist.  Here the creepiest ghosts The Torso (Daniel Wesley) and The Great Child (C. Ernst Harth) receive little screen time a choice I am fully willing to blame on a director that was more comfortable going for slash and off screen shock than any degree of ambient horror.  In fact, I am usually a fan of filmmakers using editing tricks and subverting of the visual palette to add intensity to a scene, but this choice starts off heavy and becomes grating well before the film ends.  Steve Beck seems to think the use of the contrast image can serve as a metaphor for every type of mental break in a film, causing the ability of the characters identities to become distinct or varied pretty much impossible. Finally, the film seems to openly embrace lifting the most obvious tropes from post-digital horror films imaginable, whether it be an inclusion of a widowed father with two distantly aged children, one who happens to be an attractive girl.  Despite a passing suggestion at having an anger issue, Arthur is made to be a lovable loser void of any point of socially problematic behavior, and his children's vanity in the case of Kathy and ignorance in regards to Bobby are neither problematic or worthy of narrative chastising.  Finally, and most offensively, the character of Maggie appears to serve no other quota than allowing for a black character to be present in the narrative, her constantly loud behavior and means of "stopping" the recorded incantation are not only in bad taste, but border on outright racism, never mind the closing moment of the film.  Overall the film suffers from being poorly planned, executed and produced, which is a shame for a film with such wonderful special effects work throughout.

Key Scene:  The segment revealing all the ghosts simultaneously is the only thing of interest in this film and it comprises, at most, two or three minutes of the narrative.

Avoid this film unless you are really trying to see every ghost story put to film, I would strongly urge a look at Session 9 instead, the far superior 2001 film shot entirely on digital.

This Stupid Machine Needs A Kick In The Balls: Rats (1984)

Some viewing experiences are made quite better by the inclusion of other people sharing in the insanity or intensity of the cinematic moment.  Other moviegoing is made better by an alteration of perception induced by a few drinks, or for the particularly dangerous mind altering drugs. Then there are some experiences that are made better by both of these elements inclusion, but still manage to exist in a world entirely detached from all logical reason.  Rats, subtitled Night of Terror, is one such bit of madness that was viewed for this marathon at a retro screening taking place at my local indie theater.  Part of the glorious, and seemingly never ending sequence of Italian knock off films from the eighties, Rats is less clear than say, Starcrash, in what it is ripping off, in that it is one part zombie film, one part Mad Max parody and an even more wicked dose of nonsensical exploitation flick that seems almost inconceivable when layered with the classic Italian method of dubbing films, wherein synchronicity is deemed useless.  Even going into this film quite aware of how terrible the product would be, in wildly endearing ways, I was taken aback by how much I found myself consuming its implausibility, both in terms of how indifferent the filmmaker, the infamous Bruno Mattei, seemed in concerns of creating a remotely feasible plot, in so much as it begins with a narration about nuclear fallout that factors so very minimally into most of the film that it almost seems like the intro was an afterthought.  Yet, underneath all the insanity that is Rats lies a film with some moments of genuine excitement, surprisingly not all of which are undercut by some sweet Italian synth music, making for a movie with an incredible amount of laughs, but also a noted last sequence that I cannot shake out of my brain, one that is haunting and absurd simultaneously, as well yet another inspiration for a possible future costume.  Also, a lot of people scream for lengthy amounts of time in this film.

Rats, as noted, exists in a post-apocalyptic landscape, that is allegedly supposed to be Manhattan, where only two things still roam the earth, rats and biker gangs.  One such biker gang, consisting of absurdly named individuals such as Video (Gianno Franco) and black woman Chocolate (Geretta Geretta) find themselves stopping off in the ruins of Manhattan, in an apparent search for food.  Their decision to stop proves quite fruitful when a bar they enter is stockpiled with food, including the highly nutritious items of sugar and flour. Realizing that there was a previous group of people inhabiting the space, the biker gang thinks little of occupying the space for their own, enjoying the provisions made freely theirs, both in terms of sleeping quarters and a botanical garden full of fascinating, but assumedly useless plants.  Indeed, two members of the biker gang feel so very much at home that they begin having sex in a sleeping bag, in the line of sight of the entirety of the rest of their gang.  Yet, despite all their decadent delight, it becomes clear that they are not at all alone, but indeed sharing this space with an inordinate amount of rats, ones that happen to have a penchant for consuming human flesh, or, at the very least, flinging themselves in large droves at human bodies, until the individuals they attack become so scratched and disgusted as to be driven to madness.  Needless to say, the group takes it upon themselves to exact revenge upon the rodents, using everything from antiquated maces to malfunctioning flamethrowers to lay waste to both the rats and all the members of their group suffering from the scratches of the vile creatures.  Yet the rats in their incessant attacks and quickly mounting numbers, begin knocking off members of the biker gang, until only a few of the members remain.  In a narrative jump, a group of hazmat suit wearing humans begin spraying gas into the town, assumedly trying to kill the rats, but when the remaining members of the gang emerge from buildings to confront these exterminators, it becomes clear in a rather intense reveal that perhaps they were also on the docket to be suffocated like rodents.

There are a lot of simplistic film titles in the world, ones that only speak to a layer of the film and in other times there are film titles like Sharknado that give viewers everything they could possibly need to know about the film.  Somehow, completely unbeknownst to me, the title of Rats seems to masterfully cover the film I viewed last night, while also being a terribly misguided suggestion about what the film manages to undertake.  I do not mean to suggest that Rats is a good movie, for it is not, nothing about the film works from a structuralist standpoint, whether it be a complete lack of regard for continuity or a concern for explaining how and where the rats, of their multiple varieties, emerge.  Instead it is simply a post-apocalyptic tale concerning a group of travelers who are quite terrible at understanding, or perhaps accepting, that certain spaces are inhospitable.  Not to lean to heavily on the classic horror film critique of "they should have just left" as it defeats the nature of horror films and their fantastical elements, however, I feel it quite worth noting in the context of this film, because honestly there is no real context as to why the bikers stop, or as to why there was a bunker filled with weird video games, as one member suggests.  Rats almost manages to be a set of film ideas cut together, never really managing to be a single solid work, but again, not to detract from my earnest joy while watching this film, because damn if it was not enjoyable in its lack of continuity.  Even as I sit here and critique these elements of the film, I am also aware of some of its truly captivating moments, whether it is those which occur when a mise-en-scene is formed that manages to incorporate rats into the windows of the background, or the synth actually hits its cue in a great way.  Rats, I guess, is an enigma more than anything else, which has helped it to gain its notoriety, particularly since its begin is in such stark contrast to its captivating ending.  Of course, there is also a real possibility that it is just a bad movie that should only be loved as such, Rats is yet another work from the golden age of Italian blockbuster knock-offs that proves to be a bit more than its intention and for that it should continually be sought out and viewed.

Key Scene: Rat humans.

There are murmurings of a Bluray release emerging soon.  I cannot suggest this release enough, in which case waiting to view it is permissible.

Reconsidering My Cinematic Childhood: 3 Ninjas (1992)

Due to time, I am starting a new segment on the blog, what follows will be a bit of an explanation/diatribe of sorts.  In the case of this post it will still fall within the kung fu marathon:

As I become more familiar with my use and presence on Letterboxd, I am decided that making really quirky lists is proving to be a great way of wasting my seemingly minimal amount of free time, but since it requires little effort and far less dedication that writing out a blog post, I justify the act in that it is still allowing me to consider film, even if in a wildly joking manner.  For example, I have a running list of films in titled "movies that make the 80's look like the coolest and grossest place to live simultaneously" which considers a breadth of movies from the era that are wildly over-the-top, but highly engaging, including wonderfully terrible movies like Miami Connection and more well-established classics that are still kind of awful, such as Top Gun.  Another list has come to my mind as a result of this kung fu marathon, when I watched 3 Ninjas.  The title for this Letterboxd list will be something along the lines of "movies from my childhood that have not aged well," because 3 Ninjas is certainly a prime example of this dilemma.  My brother and I used to repeatedly watch this film and hope to obtain the, what we thought at the time were, kabuki masks worn by the brothers.  Revisiting it for this marathon, made it rather apparent that it not only failed to maintain even the slightest degree of nostalgia that I have obtained for movies that are far from perfect, a work like Space Jam being perhaps the best example.  3 Ninjas cannot even maintain the aforementioned nostalgia factor because the movie is both very dated and indeed not even well made.  It is clearly a work that was rushed through production, evident through sporadic editing and filming that make the presence of stunt doubles so blatant and a narrative with the flimsiest of character arcs and an understanding of fashion that extends to about a solid three months of 1992.

This segment will involve me attempting to reflect on what I might have picked up on as a child that would have made me adore this movie and then I will juxtapose it with the reality, or new opinion I might have formed with a more matured cultural palette, as well as a much broader awareness of the art of cinema, both in function and theory.  First, I seem to recall being really fond of the films presence of the Japanese grandfather, played by Victor Wong.  Something about his sagely presence seemed hip and desirable.  Now, I realize how exploitative the figure was, as well as how stereotypical the figure proved to be, particularly in contrast to the whiteness of the kids around him.  In fact, assuming that he was supposed to be their grandfather, the possibility of the three children having any amount of Asian heritage seems genetically unlikely, thus leading to another point of reconsideration as I look back on this film.  When I was younger, I am certain that some of my joy in this film came from its brevity.  Clocking in at under an hour and thirty minutes, the film is paced at a frantic speed, jumping between scenes inexplicably and incorporating characters, none of which seem to go anywhere.  I am aware that this could have been a result of the producers demanding the filmmaker cut away scenes to make it watchable, for children, like myself at the time, whose attention spans would have popped off by the hour thirty marker.  Yet, what they chose to keep makes as little sense at what is clearly missing, as though whoever did get tasked with editing was doing so out of spite.  For the third consideration, I will get a bit Freudian and admit that one of the elements that might have drawn me to the film was the tenuous relationship between the father and sons, of absence and indifference.  Thematically it is something that still strikes a cord with me when executed brilliantly, as is the case with Puffy Chair, or to a lesser degree in The Great Santini.  Here, however, it is just done with little concern for the psychological effects or the nature of such a distancing relationship on a family structure.  Like the rest of the film it is dealt with hastily and unconvincingly.

As you can tell by this revisitation, I am less than thrilled about this film.  While I do not foresee this being a super frequent variant on the regular blog postings, it is something that I hope to try here and there.  Inclusions in the future are likely to be films like Small Soldiers, Gordy and A Walk to Remember, which I reacted to with great enjoyment at a younger, pre-cinephile age that might not hold up with a more critical lens.  However, on this quest, I do hope to occasionally find a work that has become even more profound with age, unfortunately, that was not the case with 3 Ninjas.

So...How About Some Coffee: Ninja 3: The Domination (1984)

The kung fu marathon, in its inception, included me glancing at my seemingly unending pile of "to be watched eventually" films which are usually things that I have a mild interest in or figure, I might need to be aware of for future projects.  It also includes things that are passed my ways as gifts, recommendations, or in a very recent case a benefit of providing some research for a documentary.  As such, getting around to these films can seem like a chore, often times proving to be middle of the road films that do not fall in a particular way, while in other instances, as was the case recently with The Woodsman and Finding Forrester, proving to be cinematic gems that would never have come into my radar were they not in the pile I just mentioned.  Ninja III is such a film, in so much, as I had never seen  its prequels, nor as I aware of its existence, until it was passed along to me as a partial payment for some work I did for a friend.  As such, it was one of the first things I sat aside for this marathon, because I knew that its prominent featuring of ninjas, at least in the plot description and title, would be more than enough to suffice for inclusion in a month devoted to the martial arts genre.  Shout Factory is clearly marketing Ninja III as a bad-movie that happens to be embraced for its absurdity and in this aspect it is hard to deny, particularly considering some of the narrative choices, as well as some grade A terrible acting choices.  I, however, assume that given its non-studio status that Ninja III did not possess a very high production budget.  This is an aspect where the film really shines, particularly, since the cinematography is often composed in a manner that gives scenes a pictorial nature, playing heavily with shadowing to add ambiance.  Mind you, this is a film about a dead ninja possessing a woman's body and making her into a killer, one would not really expect anything in the way of soundtrack, editing and filmmaking to matter, instead all reflecting the same issues as those shown in the bad writing and acting.  Ninja III is a well-made movie, that just happens to be really ill-conceived in the elements that least reflect the "architects" of the frame.  Had the director given a second thought to demanding more out of his performers and had those same performers questioned their character's motives even slightly, Ninja III could have move from terrible to slightly above average.  Of course, this is not all bad because in its existing as a terrible film it has obtained a new life that is often not afforded to better films that are decidedly middle-of-the-road.

Ninja III begins with a ninja entering a cave and grabbing an assortment of what one would assume to be the assassin's tools, ranging from katanas to the most extensive variety of shuriken imaginable.  One would assume with such a setup that the ninja will be the film's protagonist, but this proves to be far from the case when only moments later the ninja shows up during a round of golf, quickly killing his guards, the women with him and the man, only to result in his being chased down by the police.  The police with their various cars and even a helicopter prove no match for this ninja, as he destroys all in his path.  Even after being repeatedly gunned down by a set of police, the ninja manages to escape, at which point he runs into Christie (Lucinda Dickie) a woman who works as a telecommunications engineer.  Realizing he is wounded Christie attempts to help, only to have the ninja flail about in an attempt to attack her, yet in his last words he appears to cast something upon her in desperation before finally keeling over and dying.  Thrown off by the entire endeavor, Christie heads to the police station after reporting the dead body, where one cop, Billy Secord (Jordan Bennett) moves out of his job as a officer and immediately begins hitting on Christie.  Initially, Christie is dismissive of his advances, yet when she has a bizarre vision of him being involved in the shooting of the ninja she agrees to begin dating him.  After some unusual misuse of tomato juice and a lot of body hair, the two become a couple, despite Christie continuing to have visions of the various officers involved in the killing of the ninja, many of whom seem to smoke cigars while on the job.  Concerned for Christie and worried as the members of his police force begin disappearing, Billy takes Christie to a spiritual advisor in the Asian area of their town, who explains that she has indeed been possessed by the dead ninja, thus explaining her quest for revenge, offering to perform a sort of exorcism of the spirit, although warning that it is an incredibly dangerous.  Furthermore, considering the dangerous nature of ninjas, a warrior named Yamada (Sho Kosugi) arrives, aiding Billy and Christie in the endeavor and fighting off the nina's resurrected spirit.  However, given that it primarily occupied Christie, her involvement in the slaying of the spirt is much more hands on than Yamada might have expected.

I could do a critical reading of the film, but it would almost become flippant and mocking of the work and its clearly misguided attempts at being a cool film in terms of characters and narrative, which in most cases fails miserably.  Furthermore, while it does bend gender assumptions a bit throughout, it almost seems coincidental as opposed to well reasoned and revolutionary.  Instead, I want to consider a few of the cinematic choices that make the film sound from a production aspect, since it will likely never receive mention in contrast to the film's terrible elements.  Firstly, the opening shot of Ninja III depicts the villain stepping into a cave and cinematographer Hanania Baer situates the camera inside the shadows of the cave, thus allowing the figure to exist in a cloud of dusty light as he moves into the darkness of the space, nicely juxtaposing his movement from a suit and assumed simplicity, to the villainy of his black ninja suit.  This was clearly a production choice that looks absolutely stunning, almost as though it could have fit into one of The Dark Knight films, perhaps the third of the franchise which could have benefitted greatly from the addition.  The second element that is worth considering is the scene in which Christie becomes fully possessed.  The scene shows her playing a video game, which appears to consist of breaking up bar fights, nonetheless, when she steps away and returns moments later, the arcade begins smoking and the screen explodes releasing a series of laser in alternating patterns.  The lasers wash over Christie's face as she stands frozen, making for a visually stunning moment that could have been played up to a lot more absurdity, as is the case with her exorcism scene later.  I would posit that the difference between the two, undoubtedly, comes in writing.  Perhaps the possession scene was left open to the art director, while the exorcism involved dialogue and therefore described action.  There are great composition and editing tricks throughout whether it be the surprisingly well-done helicopter explosion early on, or the addition of action occurring in the background that are also worth considering.  I only call attention to them in this case, because they stand to be lost in the shadow of tomato juice-stained leotards.

Key Scene:  The best scene is easily the arcade possession, however, the wildest scene has to be either the hot tub assassination or the tomato juice seduction.

I mean, this movie is well made...really well made, but it is also not good in terms of story and dialogue.  If you want b-movie ninjas in an 80's setting go for Miami Connection...that is a certified gem.  Also, fun fact: Breakin' and Breakin' 2: Electric Boogaloo, both of which star Lucinda Dickie were released in the same year as this, leotards and dancing were at their height in 1984

Fortune Favors The Brave, Dude: Pacific Rim (2013)

If this proves to be the only summer blockbuster I upon its release in 2013 I will be more than content, because to be honest it is the perfect escapist big budget film, one that is greatly aided by its 3D option, not to mention including fully realized and expertly executed CGI, something that would seem second nature at this point in movie technology, but is sadly often lacking.  I could have gotten behind this film were it solely a movie about big ass robots fighting equally large sea monsters, because I am a burgeoning kaiju-fanatic who will consume pretty much any piece of media that involves large monsters both within its traditional Japanese framework, as well as outside of this into the more "non-traditional" types of kaiju.  Hell, the fact that Guillermo Del Toro directed this movie only added an extra layer of enjoyability, one that is at times completely noticeable (so many nosebleeds in this movie) while at other times the directors hand seems decidedly absent.  I want to be quite careful, however, in separating this film from what I would decidedly call cinema, because even with its ties to the cinematic tradition of kaiju and a director who has certainly made works deserved of the moniker, Pacific Rim is a summer movie, one that does not take itself too seriously nor should it, because it exists primarily to rake in the money of moviegoers hoping to escape the sweltering heat in exchange for gratuitous amounts of damage.  The acting in this movie is exceptionally awful, and I recently caught up with Sharknado, and there are moments of dialogue so on-the-nose that it is almost cringeworthy.  Indeed were it not for the saving presence of Clifton Collins, Jr., Charlie Day and Ron Perlman I would be inclined to write the cast off completely.  Furthermore, despite being a movie that clocks in well past two hours, Pacific Rim avoids delving too deeply into some of the more philosophical and societal issues in which its entire narrative rests, again indicative not of it being a bad movie, but one whose primary focus is to entertain, admittedly, however, my hyper-analytical mind desperately hoped for more to pull from for not only my critical analysis as it relates to this blog post, but for prospective academic papers in the future.  Ultimately, Pacific Rim stands in a homage to all that is kaiju, a genre Del Toro, undoubtedly, adores, and takes very seriously.  It will not go down as a great film, but over the years, I would not be surprised to see it gain second wind as a piece of underrated science fiction.

Pacific Rim is set in the near future, a time when the world is under the constant attack of a group of sea monsters known as kaiju, whose namesake literally means giant beast.  While the global community initially attempted to fight the incessant attacks of the beast with traditional military power, their continual attacks lead to the jaegar (the German word for hunter) initiative, involving the building of large mechanized humanoid machines co-piloted by two or more individuals.  A particularly adept piloting duo being Raleigh (Charlie Hunnam) and Yancey Becket (Diego Klattenhoff) set out to continue their reign as the world's most respected jaegar pilots.  Tragedy strikes, however, when during a fight with a particularly brutal kaiju, Yancey is ripped from the cockpit and killed, leading to a traumatic experience on the part of Raleigh, who has not only lost his brother, but is mentally scarred considering that in order to successfully co-pilot the persons involved must engage in what is known as drifting, or sharing memories to create a symbiotic fusion.  Needless to say this loss drives Raleigh into retirement for years, during which the scale and frequency of kaiju attacks increase until it becomes quite obvious that the global community will eventually fall under the pressure.  Years later, Raleigh finds himself employed as a construction worker building a wall of hope in Alaska one that the world's political leaders believe will keep the monsters at bay, a foolish notion that is quickly dismissed when a monster breaks through the wall of Sydney in a matter of an hour.  Desperate to end the problem Jaeger leader and former pilot Stacker Pentecost (Idris Elba) reenlists Raleigh into the program, knowing that his unmatched skills are necessary as the kaiju attacks continue to strengthen.  Initially hesitant to join the cause, Raleigh, nonetheless, agrees to helping knowing that he would rather die inside a jaeger than on the scaffolding of a futile wall.  It is at this point that Raleigh is introduced to the last vestiges of the global jaeger program, including only four functioning robots, one from China, one from Russia, another from Great Britain and his own former machine Gipsy Danger.  Of course, training must commence for a new co-pilot for Raleigh, which is found in a Chinese woman named Mako Mori (Rinko Kikuchi).  All the while two scientists Newton Geizler (Charlie Day) and Gottlieb (Burn Gorman) attempt to discover the larger reasons for the kaiju attacks.  The discovery so large and unprecedented as to seem impossible, ultimately, taking every last effort and possible body/jaeger scrap to take down the attacks.

Pacific Rim is about the big ideas of a cause, focusing on the actions that will have the greatest effect for the largest amount of people, indicated in the opening moments of the film when while on assignment Gipsy Danger is told to ignore the presence of a small boating ship of ten people, because their main concern is preventing large scale damage by an impending kaiju attack.  Yet, favoring the safety of even a singular person, Raleigh and Yancey save the vessel, thus leading to Yancey's demise. This sacrifice for the lesser in the name of doing what is right comes to serve as the metaphor for the film as a whole, the problem being that while Del Toro is clearly trying to play upon this idea it usually gets lost in the battle sequences and cinematic layers of the film, or when called upon seems so highly-stylized as to be part of the idea of the gradiose as opposed to the small.  This is most obvious in the super over-the-top moment when the fight between a jaeger and kaiju leads to zooming in on a Newton's Cradle to show it being slightly affected by the attack.  The moment is assumedly intended to carry the metaphor of the "butterfly affect" theory suggesting that even the slightest of movements play into a larger outcome and to alter them in the slightest could change the course of time.  Pairing this with the act of drifting is rather intriguing, because the result is a shared mental bond between two persons, one that leads to their complete understanding of even the most internal and oppressed of thoughts.  Again the film could deal with these implications in rather intriguing and engaging ways, but, particularly with the father son relationship of one jaeger, or the burgeoning relationship between Raleigh and Mako.  Hell, there is even the possibility of a unison between the humans and the extra-terrestrial/subterranean kaiju monsters.  The problem is that the concern for the spectacle gets in the way of the metaphysical considerations of the film, because while the fight sequences are tight, well-edited and highly engaging, the drifting sequences might well be the most cinematic moments in the film, even when they exist in moments of complete CGI fabrication.  I feel as though the initial film asked a lot more questions, which were quickly muffled by studio execs whose only concern was audience response.  The film also deals with some fascinating masculinity issues, perhaps on accident, but it is something I hope to cover in the future via an academic piece.

Key Scene:  There is a moment when Geizler and a kaiju come face-to-face that could on its own justify the entire existence of 3D films.

This will likely be the peak of summer blockbusters and I would strongly encourage you to seek it out, because I am quite certain its awe will fail to transfer to the home entertainment setting.

For Your Awareness: Starcrash (1978)

In 1977, the world of sci-fi would forever change with the introduction of the masterpiece Star Wars.  It would be a harbinger of great and well-known space exploration movies, such as Alien and Serenity.  These movies in their own right would receive critical acclaim and advance what viewers came to expect from special effects in space movies.  This blog is not in any way about such a film, instead; it is about a little known Star Wars rip-off called Starcrash, a film that was directed and produce by Italians, but involved a slew of American and British actors.  However, to call it a rip-off is a bit problematic, because to be fair, the producers of Starcrash realized the imminent success of the Star Wars franchise and rushed a film into production.  Using a large amount of character arcs and plot twists from the now famous franchise, Starcrash exists as one of those so terrible it is endearing films that makes its rounds at midnight movie showings and on best cult classics lists.  It appears to border between taking itself completely seriously and not trying to push itself beyond its clearly restrained budget.  Furthermore, you can imagine that any movie involving David Hasselhoff, but the best part of this film comes from an inspired performance of recent Academy Award winner Christopher Plummer.  Essentially, Starcrash is glorious in its seemingly unending amount of "what the..." moments.

I will not bother with a plot explanation here, because it clearly parallels Star Wars in many ways and part of the enjoyability is making these connections during the viewing experience.  Not to mention it has a John Barry soundtrack that is both zany and grandiose.  I will instead tell you to keep an eye out for a few things throughout viewing Starcrash.  First off, continuity is thrown out the window in the film, something that makes a sci-fi film function.  Pay close attention to the amount of ships mentioned in any fight, this will help prove my point.  Secondly, the character of Elle (L) is magnificent, voiced by British folk musician Hamilton Camp, who dons a terrible American Southern accent, and is undoubtedly one of the funniest and most likeable parts of the film.  Thirdly, the women in the films are all ex-models, including one former Bond girl, Caroline Munro, and boy do they go through wardrobe changes, in many instances for no apparent reason.  However, as I noted before, the best part of this film is without a doubt Christopher Plummer.  He delivers monologues with such gravitas that you wonder whether or not he realized that everyone else round him could not act to save their lives.  From turn of the neck line deliveries to yelling out to "stop the flow of time," Plummer's performance culminates in one of the most ridiculous closing monologues ever put on film.  I hope one day to find it on the internet, because I will probably attach it to everything I post. 

Please do yourself a favor and buy this film on Bluray, it is worth getting and sharing with your friends.  Plummer, painted models, scantily clad women and Hasselhoff all combine for the makings of a filmic drinking game.  Also, I hear the commentary is something of unprecedented nerdom.  Shortly after watching you will become a "Crashhead," I know I am myself.

The Highjump Is A Masochists Event: Personal Best (1982)

Some movies try quite hard to approach subjects that are overlooked or misunderstood by general audiences.  When this works correctly, it is something amazing and often creates a cultural phenomenon relating to the subject of focus.  Robert Towne's study of female athletes in Personal Best is anything but this, because what could have been an engaging study of companionship and competition between women instead becomes an exploitative film that relies on crotch shots and excessive nudity to draw audiences in.  I will say that the film is quite well made and perhaps one of the best edited sports movies I have ever seen, however, the cinematic nature of the film does little to save the convoluted and misogynistic storyline from succeeding.  What Personal Best should have been was a revolutionary piece of athletic cinema, however, it borders on soft core pornography.  To further this, a film that deals heavily with the existence of homosexual relationships, fails to maintain their validity and results in a film that demands the necessity for heterosexual normalcy.  In short, Personal Best is a feminist's nightmare and has since become a stellar example of how not to make a socially progressive film.

Personal Best follows the experiences of two women athletes who become entwined in a romantic relationship while competing and training together for a spot on the American Olympic team at the 1980 Olympic games.  The women involved are the aging track star Tory Skinner (Patrice Donnelly) who is an open lesbian that realizes her time as a world class athlete are fading.  The other woman is the much younger and inexperienced Chris Cahill (Mariel Hemingway) who is as sexually inconsistent as she is on the track.  Chris's lack of productive results leads her to be taken under the wing by Tory who also possesses sexual feelings for Chris.  These feelings are enacted upon and the two become a couple and all seems all right until it becomes apparent that their off field relationship results in negative affects on their on field performance.  In order to correct this male coach Terry Tingloff (Scott Glenn) enters in to the picture to correct Chris and stop Tory from destroy both her and Chris's career.  Realizing that Chris is quite dependent on Tory, Terry interferes and begins flirting with Chris.  After successfully wooing Chris with affection and ice cream, Tory begins a fit of jealousy, which includes causing Chris to blow her knee while practicing the high jump.  However, almost inexplicably, the two mend their relationship as friends and Chris begins a new relationship with a water polo player named Denny (Kenny Moore).  In the trials for the Olympic Games, Chris and Tory work together to assure that both of them obtain spots on the Olympic team and the film closes with them celebrating their victory and Tory giving her blessing to Chris's new relationship, claiming that Denny is cute for a guy.  Ironically, in passing statement by a reporter, it is realized that the women's efforts are futile for the United States plans to boycott the Moscow Olympics.  This statement that seems arbitrary actually implies that the women's efforts are futile and irrelevant.

If it is not apparent that the film is problematic from the plot description, I will happily elaborate on its issues.  The first is the obviously exploitative nature of the film as it relates to lesbianism.  The film has multiple scenes that involve lengthy panning shots of Tory and Chris in bed or the women athletes in the spa, all of which appear to lack necessary placement in the film.  Furthermore, almost every segment of track and field filming involves crotch shots of the women, again for no obvious artistic reason.  Furthermore, the film implies that women athletes are incapable of being productive without the direct guidance of men.  In a lengthy diatribe, Terry explains that male athletes are inherently easier to coach because they lack feminine needs and emotional instability.  If these factors were not enough to make the film incredibly problematic, the fact that each woman in the film ultimately falls back on a man to assure her safety is the nail in the coffin.  Chris relies on the assurance of Denny both physically and emotionally for her success, while Tory ultimately confides in Terry for support, which is further problematized by the implication that the two have been intimate in the past.  It is a film full of plot gaps, exploitative dialogue and voyeuristic cinematography that has no purpose, besides what appears to be reaffirming the patriarchal ideals that would come to dominate the 1980's.  If this film is the supposed cult classic it appears to be, I would assume it is solely to its absurdity.

I have ragged on this movie quite a bit, with that being said, I would suggest watching it if you are at all concerned with gender studies.  It is an absolutely necessary piece of cinema to know about when discussing feminism and lesbian imagery in film.  As for owning a copy, well that is another story.

That's A Whole Lifetime Of Nightmares: Equinox (1970)

I remember watching a TED presentation by J.J. Abrams in which he discusses the magic of illusions and how many of these illusions are created through cinematic trickery.  He cites old school horror monster films as his inspiration and certainly showed this inspiration in his recent film Super 8.  When watching the low budget monster fiesta that was Equinox, I could not help recalling this presentation.  Equinox will never win an award for acting, and while its narrative is impressive, it is not terribly innovative.  I was, however, constantly impressed and surprised by the special effects of this film, which used camera trickery and the craziest most awesome claymation I have ever seen in a film.  I had more "what the..." moments with this than any other special effects heavy movie I have seen to date.  It is not a masterpiece of storytelling, but Equinox is a cinematic achievement in its existence alone.

Equinox as a film is your traditional teen horror film.  A group of good-looking white kids decide to visit their geology professor Dr. Waterman (Fritz Leiber, Jr) who has taken up prolonged residence in the hills of rural California.  The group includes the two All-American young men David (Edward Connell) and Jim (Frank Bonner), and their blonde lady friends Susan (Barbara Hewitt) and Vicki (Barbara Hewitt).  The group decides that along with visiting Dr. Waterman they will also enjoy a nice picnic.  However, their arrival to the woods and Dr. Waterman's house leads them to realize that everything is not sound in the forest.  In fact, Dr. Waterman is nowhere to be found and his house is burned down.  This leads the group to attempt to discover the whereabouts of Dr. Waterman.  This quest leads them to meat Asmodeus a sketchy forest ranger who demands that they group leave and forget about everything they witnessed.  The group, headed by David and Jim, refuse and enter into a dark cave in an attempt to find their professor.  After an awkward encounter with an old unnamed man, the group comes into possession of a cryptic book with images and signs of various monsters and mythologies.  Things begin to go abysmally wrong for the group after they obtain the book.  The group encounters alternate realities, a multi-colored squid, a gigantic caveman and a possessed Asmodeus.  Ultimately, the group's attempts at survival fail and they are overtaken by evil, thus ending the film darkly and brilliantly.

It is hard to critique the film with theory, aside from some passing mentions at issues of environmental protection and a stab or two at world religions, however, it is fully acceptable to praise this film as a masterpiece of low-budget filmmaking.  The DVD includes an intro by horror film extraordinaire Forrest J Ackerman, in which he discusses how common low budget horror films were during the mid to late sixties in the United States.  He also notes how many of them were terrible in their execution and rarely expressed anything inspirational in special effects.  He notes how these flaws are nonexistent in Equinox and that it is a truly impressive.  One example of how well the tricks work in Equinox is during the crossing to the alternate reality in which a split frame is paired to make the characters and items disappear when they cross the halfway point of the frame.  It is a simple trick in theory, but the application of it in Equinox is one of the best uses I have ever seen.  I was even more taken back by how incredibly menacing the caveman looked in the film.  The individual cast to the play the part was obviously larger, but the camera angles and framing of the shots added to its David versus Goliath feel.  Furthermore, I am not completely sure how it all worked and am alright with that because the magic of the moment remains mysterious and in cinema that means everything.

Another great delivery from Criterion, Equinox is a hidden film gem.  If you like slosh cinema or b-movies, you will love this film.  If you love technological advances, you will love this film.  Hell, if you love movies, you will love this film.  Buy a copy from Criterion, it will be worth it for the supplements alone.

I Loathe Tragedy, Such An Inferior Genre: Children of Paradise (1945)

A film that is poetic realism realized, Children of Paradise incandescently studies the world of a struggling theater troupe through its moments of success all the way to its moments of abject failure.  The masterpiece of French director Michael Carne, Children of Paradise is a brutally honest look at love, lust and the troubling links of romance, ultimately, positing the failures of true romance in the face of bourgeois oppression.  The film is uniquely its own work, incorporating tight and claustrophobic cinematography that still manages to flow with grace, as well as acting that is theatrically excessive, yet manages to be achingly real.  The film clocks in at an epic three plus hours, yet the viewing experience seems all too short and ends abruptly, all be it appropriately, leaving those witnessing the magnificent work yearning for something more, but like the films characters viewers are left with a fading flicker of something soulful that has forever escaped their grasp.   
 

As noted the film follows the interconnected narratives of a theater troupe located on the appropriately named Boulevard of Crime.  The films central character is certainly the aging beauty Garance (Arletty) whose illustrious beauty proves irresistible to the men living on and around the crowded boulevard.  The first to approach Garance with interest is the aspiring actor Frederick (Pierre Brasseur) who at first sees the gorgeous woman as a conquest, but quickly finds himself in a state of perpetual infatuation with Garance.  Not soon after Frederick’s advances, Garance is accused of thievery, however, she is saved by a mime named Baptiste (Jean-Louis Barrault) who explains that it was in fact a conman named Laceneire (Pierre Renoir) who stole the watch, while also expressing his own interests in Garance.  Garance thanks Baptiste for taking her side and offers him a flower in gratitude.  Baptiste, like Frederick, is quickly infatuated by Garance, however, it appears as though she actually shares similar feelings.  All appears set for Baptiste and Garance to fall madly in love, until Count Edouard  (Louis Salou) enters the picture.  Described in the film as a dandy, Edouard is an extravagant man who uses his monetary extensions to get what he wants, proving successful even with Garance.  Garance is shown choosing Edouard over the other gentlemen at the end of the first act, and we are brought back in a few years later showing both Frederick and Baptiste as successful actors, although Baptiste appears to be in a state of constant depression over his loss of Garance.  These issues are only made more severe by the constant meddling of Laceneire who believes he can use guile to win over Garance.  Ultimately, the four men roguishly trick one another into winning over Garance, who is obviously lost in thoughts of Baptiste.  Tragically it is their relationship that is never rekindled as they fail to cross paths and Baptiste is left chasing after Garance in the crowded Boulevard of Crime, only to be consumed by the mass of people.  In this moment, Garance dismisses Baptiste as nothing more than a face in the crowd, literally becoming a faceless man behind the makeup of a mime.

The film is stunning and absolutely enthralling, yet in the back of my mind I fell bothered by the overarching assumption that all masculine camaraderie is somehow ruined by the interference of a female.  All the men act in a ludicrous manner over their desire for Garance and at times the film suggest that it leads to their disconnection.  In fact, a rather endearing scene between Baptiste and Frederick over their mutual respect for each others craft, is quickly dismissed when Frederick sleeps with Garance, despite knowing that Baptiste is only a room away.  This assumption is only made worse as it is assumed that Garance is entirely incapable of truly choosing her own mate.  Garance only settles with Edoaurd in order to avoid a serious prison sentence, however, once she chooses to settle with the count it is mutually believed between viewer and characters that she is inextricably tied to him, despite her continuing longing for Baptiste.  Incidentally, a male character must even assure her of her love for Baptiste, specifically when Baptiste’s son states that she cannot have his father, because he is happy with his own family.  It is patriarchy working at its most destructive level, one in which even a male child proves to have more authority than an aging woman.  I consider most of the problems to be indicative of forties Europe, yet I could not praise this film, without also making note of these glaring gender issues.

Sadly, Criterion has yet to release this gem on Bluray, however, that should not deter you from getting a copy, because it is one of the rather moving pieces in the collection and a definitive example of French Poetic Realism. 

Everyone Knows Monsters Prefer Blondes: The Toxic Avenger (1984)

There are movies that are ungodly bad, so bad that you shutter at the thought of watching them, yet cannot help but love them.  The Room, Plan Nine From Outerspace, Reefer Madness and even Evil Dead.  In the same vein is the gore-filled, nausea inducing social criticism that is The Toxic Avenger.  I have many bad movies, but to be honest this one lives in its own world.  A cross between a drug PSA and an awkward low budget porn film, The Toxic Avenger starts terrible and only gets exponentially worse.  With that being said I still thought it was an amazing movie...for being self-aware mess.  I laughed at the film out of confusion and befuddlement and was thrown for a few plot loops, which was a surprise given its rather trite narrative.  Ignoring the moment of blackface and perpetual misogyny throughout, The Toxic Avenger is terribly mind numbing.

The plot focuses on a town named Tromaville that is literally decaying in its own filth, whether it is from the ever expanding landfill, beligerent sex-crazed youth, or the corrupt local government.  In fact, the only character with any sense of decency is the local janitor Melvin (Mark Torgl) whose awkward demeanor and unflattering looks make him the butt of everyone's jokes.  One day a group of youth take their mocking a bit too far and chase Melvin around the local gym leading him to jump out a window in a panic, landing in a vat of toxic waste in the process.  Melvin's body sets aflame and begins to boil, yet the kids only laugh at this assuming it to be another level to Melvin's goofy ways.  The film eventually leads to a crime scene in which a group of thugs attempts to berate the one good cop in the entire city, at the point in which it appears that the cop is done for, a large green beast of a person appears to save him.  The thugs assume this entity to be nothing and attempt to fight it, quickly realizing that this creature is immune to all forms of physical attacks.  After defeating this group, leaving only their corpses and mops in the wake, the monster makes papers as the new law enforcement for a town void of justice.  The town even begins wearing shirts that say "I Heart The Monster Hero."  It is not until the monster comes to meet a blind girl named Julie (Cindy Manion) that the creature's identity is revealed.  The monster is none other than the janitor Melvin whose out to with an unquenchable thirst to end bad actions, and to seek revenge to those who mocked him.  The film follows suit in these terms, having The Toxic Avenger face off against the crime-ridden town, eventually coming face to face with The National Guard who decides to spare the monsters life when they realize the monster is in love with a blind girl.  The film ends on a high note positing that The Toxic Avenger will protect the town for years to come, or for at least three more sequels.

I noted the social critique present within The Toxic Avenger as being rather obvious.  While I would be hesitant to applaud such blatant use of imagery to make a social statement, I am making an exception for The Toxic Avenger.  I would instead suggest to others that this film makes a great tool to teach your skeptical friends about film criticism.  In the past few years, I have had many people comment on the implausibility of film as a medium for social critique.  Now do not get me wrong, some films do lack critical value (Think Michael Bay), but are rewarding in artistic elements or pure enjoyment.  The Toxic Avenger certainly doesn't possess the later, but is saturated with the former.  The film was made in the mid-80's a time in which American face increasing urbanization, a growing drug problem and a continuing severance of the nuclear family.  This film is a reflection of that, even if the mirror is a bit grimy and shattered.  It is arguably similar to Spike Lee or Martin Scorsese's films of the era, but without the same budget or maturity.  The idea that the film posits about cleaning up America is obvious and easily accessible, making it a perfect segue film for those burgeoning film critics you may no, and even if they are unable to grasp it after this film, at least you got them to sit through one of the most bizarre movies in existence.  I guess the idea here is to share it for its message, not for its artistic value.

I cannot full out recommend this film to readers, although I plan to get myself a VHS copy as soon as possible.  However, if you like the bizarre, and are a fan of B-movie sloshfests then I would suggest getting a copy of the film in any media form available, it visually will not make a difference, it is a rare gem that is only improved by outdated technology.