Film Review: CAT'S EYE (1985, Lewis Teague)

Stars: 4 of 5.

Running Time: 94 minutes.

Notable Cast or Crew:  James Woods (VIDEODROME, VAMPIRES), Candy Clark (AMERICAN GRAFFITI, THE BLOB), Drew Barrymore (E.T., GUNCRAZY), Kenneth McMillan (DUNE, RUNAWAY TRAIN), Alan King (CASINO, THE ALAN KING SHOW), Robert Hays (AIRPLANE!, FIFTY/FIFTY), James Rebhorn (THE GAME, INDEPENDENCE DAY), Charles S. Dutton (SURVIVING THE GAME, ALIEN 3), James Naughton (THE PAPER CHASE, THE FIRST WIVES CLUB).  Produced by Dino De Laurentiis.  Music by Alan Silvestri (BACK TO THE FUTURE, PREDATOR).  Cinematography by Jack Cardiff (THE AFRICAN QUEEN, THE RED SHOES).

Tag-line: "Through the eye of the cat, a twisted tail of macabre suspense from the author of CARRIE, THE SHINING, and THE DEAD ZONE."  That's a mouthful.

Best one-liner:  "YOU FLYING SHIT HOUSE!"

CAT'S EYE is an omnibus horror flick, which longtime fans of this site will note is one of the best horror subgenres to watch with friends on a Saturday night.  This genre brought us CREEPSHOW, CREEPSHOW 2, TALES FROM THE DARKSIDE: THE MOVIE, TRILOGY OF TERROR, TWO EVIL EYES, THE TWILIGHT ZONE: THE MOVIE, and plenty of lesser fare like TRAPPED ASHES, and several others that ought not even to be named (CREEPSHOW III– shit, I said it!).  Some years ago, back when I wrote reviews on Netflix, I chose to tackle the beauty and complexity of CAT'S EYE.

I had a limited word count, and it went something like this:

There's so much to say about this sprawling epic, but since I don't have a lot of space, I'm going to center my comments on two aspects  of the film which merit discussion: the cat's performance, and the closing credit music "Cat's Eye" by Ray Stevens of the Village People.  First off, the cat delivers a first-rate,  nuanced performance, the best in the film.  No small feat considering James Woods and Candy Clark are two of the cat's co-stars.  Now before you assume I'm joking, I challenge you to watch the movie and say otherwise– this cat is gonna blow your mind.  The cat is a veritable powerhouse.  And the cat is uncredited.  Nowhere on the internet can I find any information about this cat or its career, and words can't do justice with what the cat manages to do with a basically non-written role.  

Finally, Ray Stevens' closing credits music "Cat's Eye" begins with perhaps the finest intro to any pop song of the 80s.  There's no way that any song can live up to that intro.  And, of course, the song doesn't.  But it's still pretty damn good.  And the lyrics shed some light on a few of the more obscure plot points, so if you choose to reflect on the film you've just seen during the end credits, like I do, you'll find it a lovely counterpart to your post-film musings and ruminations.

Obviously, I didn't have enough space to properly discuss CAT'S EYE, but I certainly don't disagree with my past self.  In fact, now, with the benefit of screen captures, I can show you the exquisite nuances of the Cat's  (named "General" in the movie) performance.  Here, General demonstrates existential longing:

Here, General demonstrates curiosity and apprehension:

Here, General demonstrates making out with a pre-teen Drew Barrymore, which frankly makes me kind of uncomfortable.


Sure, it's presented as a Gotcha! moment where you're expecting the cat to crawl up and start stealing her breath or something, and then you're relieved to find out that it's only kissing her, but then again, I'm not sure that cat-kisses were necessarily the best-case outcome for a scenario such as this one.  I digress.

Director Lewis Teague made a career out of drawing terrific performances out of animals.  Cujo in CUJO, the alligator and alligator puppets in ALLIGATOR, etc., etc.  Hell, Cujo even makes a cameo appearance in this film:

As does Christine the Plymouth Fury, who's driven straight out of the John Carpenter film and now outfitted with bumper stickers that proudly proclaim "Rock n Roll will never die!"  and "Watch out for me.  I am Pure Evil.  I am CHRISTINE."

Before I get ahead of myself, let's talk about the film's structure.  The frame story concerns the eponymous cat and his journey from New York City to Atlantic City to Wilmington, NC [side note:  Wilmington was Dino De Laurentiis central (i.e., BLUE VELVET) and home to such King adaptations as MAXIMUM OVERDRIVE, SILVER BULLET, THE NIGHT FLIER, and FIRESTARTER)] ostensibly in search of multiple-part playing Drew Barrymore who is in desperate need of his assistance.  On his way, he passes through– and plays a small part in– a few tales of mystery and imagination ("Quitters, Inc." and "The Ledge") before meeting up with Drew and starring in "The General."  It's not as good a frame story as Tom Atkins' EC-comic-hatin' father in CREEPSHOW, but I'm willing to go with it. 

Then the whole thing is shot by Jack Cardiff, one of the finest cinematographers to ever work in the medium– and the range of his credits is extraordinary.  He did Technicolor classics like THE RED SHOES and THE AFRICAN QUEEN and BLACK NARCISSUS and Hitchcock's UNDER CAPRICORN.  He shot big budget 80's muscle-bulging trashterpieces like CONAN THE DESTROYER and RAMBO: FIRST BLOOD PART II.  And then he directed films such as the madness that is GIRL ON A MOTORCYCLE or the rough n' tumble actioner that is DARK OF THE SUN.  And here we got 'im on CAT'S EYE.  Pretty terrific.

Anyway, the first tale is "Quitters, Inc." from the first King story collection, NIGHT SHIFT.  Though published under King's name, it's more of a 'Richard Bachman'-style tale (King's pseudonym for a series of novels that were stripped down, grittier, meaner, and more nihilistic versions of King's mainline work).  Without giving too much away, this tale stars James Woods as a smoker looking to quit.  On the recommendation of a friend, he engages the shadowy corporation "Quitters, Inc." to assist him – without realizing to what lengths they'll actually go to make sure he kicks the habit.  

 

It feels a lot like David Fincher's 90s thriller THE GAME, and curiously enough, both co-star classic "that guy!" actor James Rebhorn.

Pictured here in a hallucination.

Anyway, since I don't want to spoil the major twists, I'll point out a few of my favorite things from this segment.

#1.  Smarmy James Woods.

Smarmy James Woods was really hitting his stride in the early-to-mid 80s.  Truly one of the great sleazemasters of his– or any other– era.  Even when he's our protagonist, you can still see the trails of slime he leaves behind.

#2.  The Kronenberg Konnection.

 

At one point, James Woods sits at home watching TV in a nicotine-deprived, scotch-soaked, glass-eyed stupor, and what is on television but David Cronenberg's adaptation of THE DEAD ZONE!  For the uninitiated, two years prior, James Woods starred in Cronenberg's VIDEODROME, a masterful showcase of smarmy Woods featuring mind-altering television programming.  Anyway, he briefly complains about the quality of the programming, and the entire moment warms the hearts of VIDEODROME die-hards everywhere.

#3.  Unnecessary violence toward golf bags.

 

While fearing that intruders have infiltrated his home, Woods grabs a bludgeon and whips open a closet door.  Out pops a bag full of golf clubs which lands on the floor with a thud.  After the bag has been fully visible and well lit for a good second or two, he begins pounding on it and lands two serious blows at a point when anybody shy of blindness would clearly see that it was an inert, harmless golf bag.   I found this to be hilarious.

THWACKK

#4.  Taunts from tray of deviled eggs.

'Nuff said!

#5.  The line "Forget the cat, you hemorrhoid!"  Gotta love Mr. King's occasionally misguided attempts at local patois.

The next tale is "The Ledge," also culled from NIGHT SHIFT.  This, too, feels more like a Bachman tale as it trafficks in sadistic gangsters rather than the supernatural.  It even features a henchman named Westlake, referencing the hardboiled writer Donald Westlake who wrote under the pen name Richard Stark (among others).  King references Westlake again in the novel THE DARK HALF (which deals with the emotional fallout after his outing as Bachman) with a writer character who pens pulp fiction under the name "George Stark."

Anyway, a gangster who loves to gamble (Kenneth McMillian, who played Baron Harkonnen in Lynch's DUNE)

catches his wife stepping out with a washed-up tennis player (Robert Hays of the AIRPLANE! series), and makes him a wager:  he'll grant the missus her divorce and let Hays have her if he can make his way around the entirety of the treacherous exterior ledge of his penthouse.  Otherwise, Hays will be set up on a bogus drug possession charge and go to prison for a decade.  The tennis player decides to give it a go, and there you have it:  straightforward stakes, a simple premise- a wiry potboiler with no ambition other than to land you a couple of mean-spirited, tawdry thrills.

The ledge effects possess a strange disconnect (filmed in a studio) which for me only amplifies their effectiveness.  Like all the segments, it's got an oddly-inappropriate-to-the-point-where-it-works sense of humor, and my favorite moments involve the dick moves perpetrated against our hero, like the douchey élan with which McMillan blasts Hays with a fire hose or distracts him with a bicycle horn

or this total asshole pigeon who peck-peck-pecks at your ankles just when you're at your most vulnerable.

Said pigeon also receives feathery and spit-take worthy comeuppance with a hearty kick and the poetry of:

"YOU FLYING SHIT HOUSE!"
Amen, Mr. King!

The final segment, "General," was written specifically for the film (and for the talents of the FIRESTARTER herself, Drew Barrymore).  It's your classic crowd-pleasing l'il creepy creature piece, drawing some degree of inspiration from Richard Matheson's brilliant "Prey," otherwise known as the Zuni Fetish Doll Segment from TRILOGY OF TERROR.

This segment is pretty spectacular, and it concerns primarily the efforts of a breath-stealing troll to terrorize Drew Barrymore.  General intercedes, but draws the ire of Mom (Candy Clark) and the exasperation of Dad (James Naughton) who believe the stray cat to be the cause of the late-nite shenanigans. 

The troll effect is terrific, employing SFX practical effects and occasionally a little person in a suit amid huge sets- it's in turns dreamlike and silly, and it works wonderfully.

Candy Clark gets to chew some scenery as she stuffs our hero cat in a cardboard box and exclaims "Your bird killing days are over, my friend!"

But the final showdown between General and the Troll is what truly takes the cake.  Crayons are hurled like javelins, backflips are employed, and a roller skate is used as a weapon and a mode of conveyance.  I also can safely say that I never in my life expected to see a cat dueling an evil gnome atop a child's record player as a terrible cover of The Police's "Every Breath You Take" plays in triple-time, chipmunk voices and everything!

It's also worth mentioning that this is the second time in the film that this particular Police cover gets a workout.  Way to be cost effective, Dino!

Anyway, the film ends, and then that majestic song, referenced earlier, washes over you as you contemplate the finer nuances of CAT'S EYE.   And because I could not find the lyrics poetry anywhere online, I shall print them here, for posterity:

I didn't know
I was under your spell
I couldn't know
There was no way to tell
I took a step
I slipped I fell
I didn't know whyyyyy

Deep in the dark it was too hard to see
That in the night it had come over me
Ha!
Just stole my soul
Imprison me
With your cat's eye

Cat's eye
How you caught me unaware
Cat's eye
How you hold me in your stare
Cat's eye
Want to hide but tell me where
Cat's eye
You got me spellllllbound
 Cat's eye
How you stole my breath away
Cat's eye 
How you cut me night and day
Cat's eye
I can never get away
Cat's eye 
I'm spelllllllbound

It's like a dream only when do I wake
Can't even scream every breath that I take
Belongs to you what can I do
Why should I tryyyyyyy

I look around like a boy in a trance
You pull the strings I'm a puppet I dance
You're holding me eternally
In your Cat's eye

Cat's eye 
Took my heart with just a look
Cat's eye
Every stare is like a hook
Cat's eye 
Just one look is all it took
Cat's eye
Made me spelllllbound
Cat's eye 
How you stole my breath away
Cat's eye 
How you cut me night and day
Cat's eye
I can never get away
Cat's eye
I am spellllllllbound...



Four stars.


-Sean Gill

DARK OF THE SUN finally coming to DVD!

I've written of this film's bareknuckle-to-chainsaw brilliance HERE, and, after years of unavailability, the Warner Archive has seen fit to release it. Supposedly it is the uncut version, but I guess we won't know until the reviews come in.

Film Review: DARK OF THE SUN (1968, Jack Cardiff)

Stars: 4.3 of 5.
Running Time: 100 minutes.
Notable Cast or Crew: Rod Taylor (THE BIRDS, ZABRISKIE POINT), Jim Brown (THE DIRTY DOZEN, THE RUNNING MAN), Yvette Mimieux (THE TIME MACHINE, THE BLACK HOLE), Kenneth More (THE LONGEST DAY, SINK THE BISMARCK!), Peter Carsten (THE QUILLER MEMORANDUM, TACTICAL GUERILLA), Calvin Lockhart (WILD AT HEART, PREDATOR 2). Music by Jacques Loussier (THE KILLING GAME, MONIQUE). Based on the novel by Wilbur Smith (THE LAST LION, SHOUT AT THE DEVIL). Screenplay by Adrian Spies (episodes of STAR TREK, THE UNTOUCHABLES, HAWAII 5-0) and Ranald MacDougall (MILDRED PIERCE, WE'RE NO ANGELS). Cinematography by Edward Scaife (SITTING TARGET, THE DIRTY DOZEN, NIGHT OF THE DEMON) - with help from Jack Cardiff.
Tag-lines: "Brutes! Savages! Heroes! ...Paid to fight in the fury of the Congo!"
Best one-liner: "The gun's Chinese, Ruffo, paid for by Russian rubles. The steel probably came from a West German factory built by French francs. Then it was flown out here on a South African airline probably subsidized by The United States. I don't think he got very far."
AKA: THE MERCENARIES.

One of the greatest cinematographers who ever lived, Jack Cardiff is known for lensing everything from THE AFRICAN QUEEN to THE DOGS OF WAR to RAMBO: FIRST BLOOD PART II to CAT'S EYE. For me, his greatest work was with Powell and Pressburger, for whom he shot A MATTER OF LIFE AND DEATH, THE RED SHOES, BLACK NARCISSUS, and portions of THE LIFE AND DEATH OF COLONEL BLIMP. From the 50's to the 70's, Cardiff turned his eye to directing (while still acting as a cinematographer on the side), and he churned out two-fisted actioners (like the vicious Richard Widmark/Sidney Poiter viking flick, THE LONG SHIPS), moody mysteries (like WEB OF EVIDENCE), and psychedelic freestyle insanities (like GIRL ON A MOTORCYCLE). DARK OF THE SUN certainly falls into the 'two-fisted actioner' category, but I'd go as far as to say that, in hearkening back to his P&P days, it's Cardiff's version of 'THE LIFE AND DEATH OF COLONEL BLIMP': a meditation on the exponential surge of brutality and complexity in modern warfare- and how it may be preferable to simply embrace extinction rather than adapt for survival in a nasty little world like ours.

Set in some approximation of the Congo in the tumultuous 60's, bloodthirsty pseudo-revolutionary 'Simbas' rape and pillage and butcher the populace as rich whites scramble to save their hides- but more importantly- their reserves of diamonds. An worn-down international strike force of mercenaries, led by the resilient Rod Taylor (who's kind of the 60's Bill Pullman) as 'Curry' and the affably severe Jim Brown as 'Ruffo', are brought in to rescue a group of refugees– er, I mean, rescue some rich douches' diamonds and maybe a few refugees if they can fit it into the schedule.

A few of the rich douches in question are stared down by Rod Taylor.

Taylor's in for the money, Brown's in it for love of country, and the motley team they assemble includes a raging ex-Nazi played by Peter Carsten and a dipsomaniacal doctor played by Kenneth More. Later, they're joined by shell-shocked survivor Yvette Mimieux, who acts as a pseudo-love interest and a voice of moral outrage in the midst of so many deadened mercenary hearts.

The film itself shifts between a white-knuckle train ride through hostile territory and a few fleeting moments of respite (which are generally spoiled by the trauma of an impending annihilation). It's sort of THE DIRTY DOZEN meets THE WAGES OF FEAR with enough sprinklings of Powell & Pressburger-style pathos to give the picture depth.

It's a difficult film to get one's hands on, but hopefully we can look forward to a DVD release thanks to increased attention from the likes of Martin Scorsese (who calls it a "guilty pleasure), Quentin Tarantino (who certainly drew more than a little inspiration from it for INGLOURIOUS BASTERDS), and William Lustig (who recently featured it in his 'William Lustig Presents' series at the Anthology Film Archives). It's truly one of the best films of its kind, and without telling you too much, here are six reasons why:

#1. Jacques Loussier's tremendous soundtrack. One could call it 'rip-off Morricone,' but I would only mean such a statement as the highest of praise. It's dissonant, razor-sharp piano; soaring, tragic strings; and explosive cymbals all wrapped up in a Euro-package that's as quietly mournful as it is cataclysmic. If you don't believe me, check it out for yourself.

#2. A young Calvin Lockhart in an early role as 'Ubi,' one of the politicos who hires our soldiers of fortune.

Lynch fans will recall his role as 'Reggie' in WILD AT HEART, one of the trio of killers which included David Patrick Kelly and Grace Zabriskie, or his role as 'The Electrician' in TWIN PEAKS: FIRE WALK WITH ME. Others, who will likely remain anonymous, will recall his absurdly brilliant turn as 'King Willie' in PREDATOR 2. Others still may remember his 'ecclesiastical' performance in the Ossie Davis-helmed blaxploitation film, COTTON COMES TO HARLEM. Regardless, Lockhart's role here is not a flashy one, but, as always, he does what needs to be done with genuine intensity.

#3. Rod Taylor and Jim Brown doing most of their own stunts. Brown, as an ex-NFLer, makes sense. But possibly in an attempt to out-macho Brown, Taylor was leaping and pratfalling and tumbling all over the place as well (and spraining his knee four times). According to co-star Kenneth More's memoirs: "Rod Taylor had been an amateur boxing champion before he became an actor, and he and Jim Brown threatened to settle disputes with their fists. Taylor fancied his chance of knocking out Brown...[who was] 6'4'' and built like a solid brick privy. They appeared to hate each other. Maybe they were only acting..."

Brown and Taylor tolerate one another.

Well...I gotta say that I don't think they were 'acting,' because the main thrust of the film is about the strength of their friendship.

#4. Rod Taylor schooling the Nazi, Part 1. As it happens, a Nazi joins the squad- a real nasty piece of work named Henlein. Being mercenaries, they're forced to suffer his presence, but Taylor lets him know up front what he thinks about his swastika:

"Get rid of that. It makes me nervous... I forget who I'm supposed to be mad at."

Later, when Henlein executes some children whom he suspects are ferrying information to the enemy,

Taylor can hardly his disgust, and wrathfully growls:

"Put the swastika back on... You've earned it."

#5. Rod Taylor schooling the Nazi, Part 2. Increasing tensions lead to a knock-down, drag-out brawl between the two, which involves the ferocious chainsaw vs. bare-knuckle match-up which graces the poster,

and a sweaty, vein-bulging, eye-popping throttling which pits 'skull' against 'train.'

I won't tell you how it ends, but there's definitely a 'Rod Taylor vs. Nazi, Part 3'- and suffice it to say that it is as brutal as all of the the previous skirmishes, combined.

#6. Kenneth More as Doctor Wreid. Sure, he's signs on to the mission for 12 bottles of scotch, but it's still sort of amazing to see him mourn a lost case of booze like it was a living being.

Later, in a rare moment of leisure, Henlein turns him on to an old (German?) drinking game which involves getting trashed, spinning 'round and 'round, and then attempting to shoot at targets with a degree of accuracy that is, well, questionable at best.

But this is just a lead-up to a drunken C-section, which still doesn't even quite make the short list of 'most jaw-dropping moments in DARK OF THE SUN.' (Despite the parade of lunacies, however, Wreid remains a solid character with a well-developed arc and a satisfying payoff.)

In the end, it's as gripping as a dive-bombing, as merciless as a bayonet to the guts, and as kinetic as a war movie can be. No winks, no nods- just the action and the waiting. The bloodshed and the friendship. The monsters inside the humans, and the humans inside the monsters. Over four stars.

-Sean Gill

Film Review: THE GIRL ON A MOTORCYCLE (1968, Jack Cardiff)

Stars: 3 of 5.
Running Time: 91 minutes.
Notable Cast or Crew: Marianne Faithfull, Alain Delon (LE CERCLE ROGUE, RED SUN), Roger Mutton (THE CHARGE OF THE LIGHT BRIGADE). Music by Les Reed (CREEPSHOW 2, onetime member of the John Barry Seven).
Tag-line: "The film sensation of the year!"
Best one-liner: "Rebellion is the only thing that keeps you alive!"
AKA: NAKED UNDER LEATHER.

Europe's answer to EASY RIDER? More like FASTER, PUSSYCAT, PRETENTIOUS VOICEOVER. And that's not altogether a bad thing. A straight-laced cellist somberly plays in the midst of a wonky circus:

Tears stream down the face of Marianne Faithfull:

Alain Delon, riding a motorcycle, crashes the party, smiling like a total douche:

Clowns chase him:

Marianne cries. Suddenly, she's atop a horse. Delon is whipping her clothes off!


Disorienting wide-angle shots! More clowns! Pink filters! Horses! Birds! Horses and birds!

And we're not even five minutes into the movie! The majority of the film is Marianne riding around on a motorcycle dressed in Leather Tuscadero's catsuit (well, I guess it's the other way around). Much ado is made of the fact that she wears nothing beneath her catsuit. I imagine that not only would that be pretty uncomfortable, but that the suit would get pretty rank after riding across Europe unlaundered. Since the film was not presented in Smell-O-Vision, however, I suppose it's a moot point.

I don't know why I'm showing you this.

The cinematography is astonishing. Director Jack Cardiff made his name as a DP on many a Powell & Pressburger production, and the film certainly features some of the most compelling 'driving footage' I've ever seen.

Too bad it's accompanied by whiny, stream-of-consciousness, pseudo-revolutionary voiceover that would make even Wim Wenders blush. As she puts on her catsuit: "Skin...it's like skin...I'm like an animal." She refers to her bike as a "black pimp" and talks much of war, rebellion, and free love. It's difficult to flirt with profundity, however, when an equal emphasis is being placed on her catsuit-zipper cleavage.

Nonsensicality rules the day. At one point, it's absolutely valid to query "Is this a flashback or an alternate psychedelic universe?"


At another point, there's a whirling 'Fondue POV' shot- somewhere, Dario Argento is shuddering in ecstasy and doesn't know why.

And the jaw-dropping fiery finale (with an exploding VW Bug!) bumps this wreck up to three loopy stars.

KERSMASH

-Sean Gill