Horrible Non-Horror: Kazaam!

"I was a medium-level juvenile delinquent from Newark who always dreamed about doing a movie. Someone said, 'Hey, here's $7 million, come in and do this genie movie.' What am I going to say, no? So I did it."—Shaquille O’Neal

With logic like that, it’s almost hard to be too tough on Kazaam, one of the more infamous critical bombs of the 1990s. Then again, the fact that O’Neal made $7 million off it AND rapped extensively throughout the process eliminates any guilt I might have.

Quick Plot: When a wrecking ball knocks into the window of an abandoned antique lamp shop, the disembodied voice of an NBA all-star is released into a boom box soon to be discovered by Max, an unhappy sixth grader struggling to cope with his mom’s impending marriage to a perfectly nice fireman, the mystery of having never met his deadbeat dad, and daily beatings from Latino bullies. Poor white kids in the ‘90s!

It looks like SOME screenwriter watched a whole lot of live action 1990s Disney kids’ films, eh?

Upon finding the mystical boom box (and yes, this being 1996, one could and should take a chug of Zima every time the words “boom box” are used), Max frees the titular genie Kazaam, who introduces himself via rap.

Well, I think it’s rap. Shaq basically talks in rhyme and music plays underneath him. That’s the same thing, right?

Although Max is guaranteed three wishes, Kazaam’s skills are a little rusty, rendering the kid dubious of his newfound rapper’s delight’s actual powers. What follows is a not-creepy-at-all sequence wherein Kazaam starts following the kid’s every move, be it to find his smarmy music pirating dad or, um, to bed.

But back to the music pirating, since that’s the ultimate plotline Kazaam’s script chooses to follow. Makes sense really: if there’s one thing 6-12 year old audiences want in their mainstream family comedy films, it’s a morality lesson about the illegal side of the recording industry. Will Max’s absentee father learn that videotaping live performances to sell on the black market for an evil mustache twirling, genie hijacking Arab is wrong? Ain’t NO villain worse than a sham recording studio executive!

Sigh. Even The Nucracker In 3D knew that when in doubt, toss in a Nazi.

Directed by Paul Michael Glaser (the man responsible for two of my vastly different guilty pleasures, The Running Man and The Cutting Edge), Kazaam stands today as hilariously ill-planned attempt to create a Rock-like movie star using a cookie cutter kids’ film. It pains me to say this, but Shaquille O’Neal isn’t actually the worst thing about Kazaam. Like a lot of athletes-turned-thespians, the man can’t quite act, but is surprisingly likable when just hanging around.

Just ask Max’s mom, who temporarily forgets her engagement to a hot NYC firefighter to flirt with the 7’ tall self-proclaimed tutor to her tweve-year-old son.

This being Kazaam, however, Shaq doesn’t JUST hang around. He raps. He does the cabbage patch. He delivers lines like “This puts the boom in box!” in a manner that, despite his self-describing introductory song, is neither contagious, outrageous, nor spontaneous.

Although I’m not saying it isn’t funny.

No, the problem with Kazaam—aside from its very existence—is that it’s so clearly written as a product by people who can’t quite really write to begin with. Nevertheless, screenwriters Christian Ford and Roger Soffer grabbed a batch of proven tropes—fatherless kid, teen bullies, magical (literally) Negro, stock Arab villains (aaahhhh the ‘90s), product placement—and mushed them into something of a movie. With an incredibly unlikable brat of a protagonist and a muddled plot (remember: the bad guys in this KIDS’ FILM are music bootleggers) Kazaam is rather wonderfully miscalculated.

Also, a tad, perhaps one might say, racist? Or just weirdly unaware of some of its implications. See, when a black man tells a bratty young white boy that the kid is now his master, something slightly wrong is going on. “I own you!” Max later shouts when Kazaam dares to ignore his whims. Yes, this post is coming from someone who epically ranted against The Blind Side to the occasional ‘you’re overreacting’ comment, but PLEASE don’t tell me I’m not supposed to be reading anything into A WHITE BOY OWNING A BLACK MAN.

Perhaps one could think of Kazaam as a ‘90s version of The Toy. Except with rapping. And with the grand comedy skills of Richard Pryor replaced by the wooden enthusiasm of a basketball player. And with Middle Eastern music pirates standing in for Jackie Gleason, piranhas, and the KKK.

Did I mention the rapping?

High Notes

Shaq gets a “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” moment, and you KNOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW how much I love those

Low Notes

It’s not my place to criticize a film I’m only watching BECAUSE of its awful reputation, but even the bad movie lover in me can’t find a proper rationalization for why concert bootleggers made sense as Disney villains

Lessons Learned

Building a neutron bomb can be a little dangerous

Romeo once said to Juliet, “grab four of your friends and we’ll have a sextet.” Weird how I don’t remember that scene from 9^th grade English class

Nubian goat eyes is the food of kings

Men are like buses. There’s always another (sound advice for a mom to pass onto her child)

In life, there are no second chances. No. Second. Chances. Well, there are if your genie becomes a djinn, but what are the odds?

The Winning Line

“And if you girls are hungry, let’s green egg and ham it”

Rapped, of course. I chose this particular lyric because from henceforth, I shall no longer use the term “Let’s get something to eat.” No no no (or as Matthew McConaughey would say in Magic Mike, “Nahhh nahhh nahhh”). My goal in life is to now see how long I can go constantly saying “Let’s green eggs and ham it” before being beaten senselessly—actually, sensibly—by friends, family, waiters, take-out cashiers, or anyone with hearing on the street

The Winning Possibly Really Inappropriate Sodomy Based Line

In a film rife with slightly discomforting scenes between a preteen and his full-grown friend with no sense of boundaries, it’s kind of a twist that The Winning Possibly Really Inappropriate Sodomy Based Line does NOT come from the mouth of a genie. Instead, there’s this:

“There’s only one place this will fit!” threaten the bullies as they wave a small key in front of Max’s terrified eyes. Um…ew?

Basketball!

Just in case you were worried that Shaquille O’Neal forgot his athletic roots, fear not:

Law & Order: SVU Alert

You KNEW I couldn’t let this one go: Max’s mother is played by Ally Walker, best known to current television audiences as the villainous Agent Stahl on Sons of Anarchy but ALSO special for guest starring in a pretty ridiculous episode of my favorite criminal justice program. In Season 11’s “Conned,” Walker played a psychiatrist who was controversially into electro-shock treatment and positively scandalously into sleeping with her thirteen-year-old patient, who was also the father of her baby. Just another day in SVU

Rent/Bury/Buy

Kazaam is pretty much as bad as you probably think it is, so those (like me) who look forward to such validation will certainly benefit from a rental. The disc is tragically sans special features, but it does have this as its menu:

Which is almost worth owning in itself.

I Liked The Hunger Games. Wanna Fight About It?

According to the rules, there can only be one winner, but that doesn't mean we can't have multiple pieces of film and literature following sadistic reality television programs that pit civilian against civilian in hand-to-hand combat to the death. As The Hunger Games feasts its way through box office records, I'm noticing an irksome fanboy retaliation against a franchise-in-the-making, as if Suzanne Collins were Stephanie Meyers' pedicure buddy. I found Gary Ross's film to be thoroughly enjoyable and when placed in the larger context of its audience, extremely refreshing.

Stop looking at me like that! I saw The Running Man in the theaters when I was FIVE YEARS OLD! I was hyping Series 7: The Contenders before Jeff Probst hosted VH1’s Music Jeopardy. I have watched, read, written about, and invented games for my current ninth favorite film of all time, Battle Royale. In no way does The Hunger Games come close to nipping at its schoolgirl kneesocks.

But for those of you who don't know, I'm something of a cockeyed optimist when it comes to movies. I don't like hating things, and not just because I was raised to not use the word 'hate' at home (we replaced it with loath, which is actually stronger but sounds more elegant). I want to believe in the future of cinema, I want to know that there are original artists out there with brilliance in their path, and heck, even that the occasional unnecessary remake can be handled with cleverness, originality, and understanding. 

Wait, what does that have to do with The Hunger Games again?

Right, genre fanboy snobbery. It’s so negative.

Look folks, The Hunger Games ain’t Battle Royale. It’s a PG-13 rated (but harsh one at that) adaptation of a juggernaut young adult novel primarily aimed at females in the eighth grade. 

And you know what? I think that’s awesome. I think it’s positively spectacular that the most popular teen literature of the day is a dark ride into a terrifying, morbidly fascinating future featuring a powerful female lead. The movie isn’t without its flaws (hey Woody, hope you have enough minutes left on your bill to phone that performance in), but I can think of at least 7 reasons why I rather dug it:

  

1. Further evidence that one should never eff with Isabelle Fuhrman

Don’t you wonder how Jodelle Ferland feels about that OTHER brunette child actress-turned-teen who specializes in playing sociopaths...and playing them better. I dare anyone to pit the blander than rice cakes Case 39 against the trashtacular Orphan. Come now, that’s like betting on the wimpy curly haired kid over the brute from District 1! Or, I don’t know, Ferland’s supporting vampire in Twilight 3 to Fuhrman’s KNIFE THROWING BADASS Clove in The Hunger Games. 

And before you say it, yes, I was happy to see the young Ferland get some decent work in Cabin In the Woods. But it’s rare that I could watch a 15-year-old girl HURL KNIVES and believe it. You can be my cat’s laser pointer that I will never piss off Isabelle Fuhrman. 

2. Not the genetically manipulated bees!

True, The Hunger Games has nothing on Battle Royale’s machetes, axes, crossbows, uzis, or pocket knife deaths but you know what it DOES have? Killer bee thingies. That's groovy, right?

3. Slaughter in 17 seconds

Let me explain something to you: I find the idea of hand-to-hand combat-to-the-death incredibly disturbing. Part of it is my own lack of coordinative abilities, and the rest stems from the simple truth that stabbing or choking a person a person two inches from my own face is simply horrifying on the very most primal of levels. That in itself is probably why these kinds of desperation murder stories make me so uncomfortable. As those pedestal pods rise up for the arena’s opening ceremonies, the threat becomes real: these children are going to have to kill each other with whatever tools are at hand, most of which are muscles or knives. Sure, we don’t SEE much in the PG-13 rating, but implied horror is there, particularly when we get quick glances at scrawny 12-year-olds before never seeing them again...

Because Orphan has knifed them to death.

4. It will forever make Project Runway Innovation Challenges way more intense

Sure, Heidi Klum's fashion-obsessed, quip-forcing slaves have been forced to create beautiful clothing out of garbage, candy, and car parts, but even setting aside the recent all-star blacklight challenge, none of the Project Runway contestants have come close to putting live fire on their scrawny model cutlets. Now that Katniss and Peeta blazed that trail (hehe, pun!), how can future contestants with artificial names and distracting jewelry DARE to play it safe?

5. The Future 1% In Fluorescent

I’m not about to fumble through a political interpretation of the universe created by author Suzanne Collins. I’ll leave that to high school English teachers who should be excited to get their students’ hands on a decently written book that they’ll actually WANT to read. 

Collins and Ross’ universe isn’t the most imaginative place created in literature. It’s a 1984 inspired society that bares a reference to The Lottery, Survivor, The Long Walk, and plenty other sources. But hey: it’s well-crafted and relevant, no matter how simple it is. More importantly, it means we get fashion like this:

So quitcher complaining

6. Best. Facial Hair. Ever.

‘Nuff said

7. It’s not Twilight

What, was that a low blow? Please. Any parent who's been wondering why their daughter has taken to wearing a permanent flannel and fartface should consider the odds forever in their favor if said teen is now braiding her hair and taking up archery. As I've explained before and again, Twilight isn't just bad cinema: it's dangerous. In no way do I believe in the burning of books, but if a local brushfire just so happened to wander into Little, Brown and Company’s warehouse, the future of feminism might be grateful.

See, Katniss, as played exactly like Ree Dolly in the magnificent Winter's Bone by Jennifer Lawrence again, is an admirable heroine. She fights. She thinks. She takes care of herself and actually cares about others. Remember my favorite scene in Twilight 2, where Bella and Edward sauntered past a line of tourists about to be unknowingly devoured by Italian vampires? Bella looked mildlly concerned, but Edward's simple "Move on" had her seeing the sunlight while the audience caught a sample of screaming civilians. Yeah, that's someone to look up to.

One of the main reasons The Hunger Games has (forgive the pun) caught fire with a young audience is, I hope, because Katniss Everdeen is the kind of literary narrator young women want to be, like Nancy Drew, Scout Finch, Cathy Dollanger, Elphaba or a founding member of The Babysitter’s Club (with the exception of Mary Anne; grow a pair girl). In Collins' writing, Katniss is even funny and sarcastic, something that doesn't quite translate on film. I forgive that because, you know, girlfriend is fighting for her life from the likes of these people:

Look: The Hunger Games isn't perfect. It's not necessarily ground-breaking. And yes, it's now become as mainstream as Bella Swan moaning about not being understood. But just because something is popular does not mean that it's not good, or entertaining, or simply much smarter and scarier than legions of pessimists want you to believe. 


Now if you'll excuse me, I have this Pavlovian condition that requires I pop in my Running Man Blu Ray anytime the title comes up in conversation. I'll be back.

And the biggest non-spoiled issue of Screfourem is...

quite hair raising

Hayden Panettiere sports one of the oddest cinematic hairdos since Whitney Able in Monsters or well, Courteney Cox in Scream 3. 

We will never forget

It's not that this attractive young actress can't handle a crop. She has a lovely little face that could easily pull off a pixie cut, but what part of common sense was her stylist lacking when he/she decided to keep the front pieces long enough that they required the strange tie-back? It's baffling and frankly, the scariest sight I've seen on the big screen since that dancing dwarf thing rocked out to Tiny Tim in Insidious.

While we're on the subject of hair, allow me to raise a second point of contention: Woodsboro's severe lack of scrunchies. Does NO ONE in this town own a Goody pack of hair ties?

Well, Marley Shelton’s Deputy Judy does, but note how she uses bobby pins to keep most of her ponytail back, yet fashionably keeps large grown-out bang strands in her face the entire film. Sure, they're blond and therefore light enough to generally see through, but doesn't an officer of the law have more important things to worry about than constantly blowing those angles out of her eyes? No wonder her lemon squares taste like rumps (paraphrased from Gale Weathers-Riley's potty mouth).

These are the details that can sometimes prevent me from loving a film. Prime flip side example: The Running Man. There Maria Conchita Alonso is, sweating in spandex and fighting for her life. Her rich dark locks sure look lovely flowing through underground hockey rinks, but what crosses this film into successful four-star territory is that choice her character makes to grab that mane, twist it around and efficient prevent it from becoming a stalker's easy handle.

Apologies for the HairCare PSA. I just sometimes find it necessary to shout out the truth.

Oh and Scream 4? 

I liked it.

I suppose I could go into a deeper analysis on what the Scream franchise has meant to me and my generation of horror fans, but many a blogger has done that over the last few weeks. Scream 4 (or Scre4m, which doesn’t really make sense because Screfourem sounds more like an algebra equation or mild infection than horror film) is not in any ways a perfect film. Some of the dialogue gets clunky. The kills are repetitive, since there’s apparently only so many things you can do with a kitchen knife that doesn't involve stabbing or slicing assy lemon squares. Gale and Dewey's relationship feels sad and leaves me pondering what a now unemployed big city reporter-turned-suburban housewife has been doing for ten years (answer: lots of Botox). 

A meta line about cheating makes me feel uncomfortable. The apparent eternal youth of Sidney Prescott (who looks EXACTLY THE SAME) makes me wonder if either a) Neve Campbell started sharing Vanna White's virgin blood moisturizer or b) Neve Campbell has just always looked 30. And finally, we're introduced to the emptiest hospital since 28 Days Later, where I beg any and all of you to never end up in because through screaming, pulled monitors, power outages and gunshots, no staff member will dare pass by to check on your status.

Then

Now

All that aside, Screfourem was a fun theatrical experience, particularly in the company of a full audience that jumps and shouts in all the right places. I won't delve into any spoilers here, but I do thoroughly recommend the film to anyone that considers themselves a fan of the franchise. It doesn't come near matching the freshness of the original or wit of part 2, but it knows enough to still be a horror movie (unlike the goofy 3) while getting with the times and satirically playing with the modern tropes and cliches of the genre as it stands in the 21st century. 

Is it everything someone who used to have Scream memorized was living for? Not quite. Is it a good time and $13 well spent? Absolutely.

Now about that hair...

Big Brother Is Hunting You (because you asked him to)

Gameshow horror is a subgenre I rarely don’t enjoy. Sure, it’s seen some horrific misfires (Halloween: Resurrection) but there’s something always intriguing about the mundane competition typically watched by pension-collecting grandmothers being subverted by dystopian elements and over-the-top homicidal maniacs.

Slashers initially piqued my interest for its writer-director (and producer and editor and most likely, caterer) Maurice Devereaux, the Canadian filmmaker who blew me away with End of the Line . When I discovered his 2001 comedic bloodbath was about a violently extreme Japanese gameshow featuring actual killers hacking up wannabe stars, I was sold.

Quick Plot: Six silly Americans with adorable Canadian accents sign up for Slashers!, Japan’s version of voluntary Running Man. The game is simple: survive a few hours being chased by charismatic psychos and win $18 million dollars.

Easy, right? Well, easier than Survivor or Series 7, but no walk in the artificial warehouse park. The villains are presented as WWF-like bad guys, ridiculous caricatures designed to inspire catchphrases and sell t-shirts. Preacherman slithers around with a Jigsaw-like mask and well-recited scripture. The Doctor giggles (though sadly doesn’t have the name Dr. Giggles) and cuts women’s tops off (leading to one female character having more costume changes than Madonna’s Evita) and most memorably, Chainsaw Charlie hunts with the face of A.E. Newman, the voice of George W. Bush, and the hair of Carrot Top (actually, combine those three things with Satan’s urine and you do indeed have Carrot Top).

The trio of murderers chases a typical batch of rather obnoxious money/fame mongers who do little to garner much audience sympathy. A muscle-popping boxer fares the best, while our lead law student with an agenda tries our patience. Nobody really matters, as this is satire at its meanest, far more concerned with lampooning our greed and boob-tube obsessions than telling a heroic saga of a plucky final girl.

Filmed in 2001, Slashers! is a product of the reality TV dynasty and though it doesn’t quite capture the everyone’s-a-killer charm of Series 7, this is tasty enough candy bar of a horror comedy treat. Not all the jokes fly, but from the skull pop-poms wielded by Slashers! dancers to the slippery practicality of a guts-covered ground, it’s good and gross fun at its low budget best.

High Points

It’s refreshing to see homemade practical effects, even if they occasionally feel like a first-year midterm for Savini University

Reality programs are only as good as their villains, and the trio here are quite enjoyable

Low Points

Bless them for giving full energy, but the performances of the “American” contestants are pretty damn grating

Between heavily masked characters, Japanese actors speaking broken English, and the lack of subtitles, some of Slashers’ dialog is near inaudible

Lessons Learned

It figures that a plastic clown would carry a plastic knife

When your body is severed from its lower half via chainsaw, the effect is very pinatic

Letting a chainsaw ‘rest for awhile’ won’t make it work later

Rent/Bury/Buy

I thoroughly enjoyed Slashers! but its low budget execution and amateur performances are in no way going to please the masses. Fans of End of the Line will find a completely different film here, as the horror comedy approach spares no punning or bite of bad taste. It’s a recommended rental for those who know they won’t be watching a clearly defined genre film, and those who like it will be brought to special feature orgasm by the loaded DVD, complete with a commentary, hourlong documentary, and a bevy of original features (“Beneath the Actor’s Studio”’s interview with Chainsaw Charlie was a personal favorite). I give fair warning that this is a divisive film nobody will really LOVE, but will humbly accept your thanks if and when you find it a good time.