Only now does it occur to me... BABE: PIG IN THE CITY (1998)

Only now does it occur to me... that BABE: PIG IN THE CITY is a children's film of uncommon imagination and depth. This is mostly due to the fact that high-octane Aussie auteur George Miller (the MAD MAX series, THE WITCHES OF EASTWICK)––who directed, co-wrote, and co-produced––imbues it with sweeping pathos and frenetic vigor. Basically, it plays like an outré action movie that happens to star a cast of genuinely lovable animals. It's as if Jacques Tati, Steven Spielberg, Hayao Miyazaki, and Michael Winner all collaborated on a movie about a talking pig. It's intense, artistic, and... legitimately good, is what I'm saying.

Set in "Metropolis"––an insane amalgamation of every major city worldwide––

it's an incredible sequence of action setpiece after action setpiece. As a wild sprint from start to finish, it reminded this viewer of Miller's own masterpiece, MAD MAX: FURY ROAD. Following this line of thinking to its conclusion, allow me to present to you "The Nine Ways George Miller's BABE: PIG IN THE CITY most resembles MAD: MAX FURY ROAD."

#1. When the clown Fugly Floom––played by Mickey Rooney, naturally––has silver cake icing on his face,

and it looks as if he's going to have a "Witness me!" moment, shiny and chrome.

#2. When gangs of street toughs threaten murder and mutilation in Babe's Metropolis:

 

and on Fury Road:

#3. When Flealick (voiced by Adam Goldberg), the endearing, disabled Jack Russell Terrier grabs hold of the dog-catchers' truck with his teeth

 

 

and becomes involved in a balls-to-the-wall car chase with a result that, at the very least, tugs at the heartstrings.

#4. When a Bull Terrier becomes trapped underwater by a chain and is unable to free itself,

 

a sequence ending on a note of actual poignancy.

#5. When Babe gets put into bondage wear.

#6. When it seems as if literally everyone is packing heat.

#6. When there's pure junkyard carnage during a chase scene.

#7. When there's a fire at a children's hospital clown-show (many of the children look as sickly as FURY ROAD's war pups)

 

and Mickey Rooney stumbles around in grotesque horror, looking a bit like Immortan Joe discovering an empty vault.

#8. When there's an entire action setpiece built around stylized villains on bungee cords.

 

She's no Doof Warrior, but then again, who is?

Basically, it may be the only film that could fully sate a MAD MAX convention as well as a children's birthday party. You should probably see it.

Only now does it occur to me... SPECIES II

Only now does it occur to me...  that SPECIES II is not as bad as its reputation would suggest; it's not even as bad as it should be.  Take, for instance, this incredibly heartwarming scene between James Cromwell (L.A. CONFIDENTIAL, THE GREEN MILE, BABE) and Justin Lazard (FRESHMAN DORM).

Also of note:  It's directed by Peter Medak (THE CHANGELING, THE RULING CLASS), but you can't really tell.  And Michael Madsen makes a surprising return, but doesn't merely 'phone in' his performance...

in fact, he doesn't even mail it in– more accurately, he stuffs it into a bottle and flings it at the ocean in the 'general direction' of SPECIES II.  Which is fine, I guess.

On the whole, it's more of the same but with less coherence and no Ben Kingsley:  laughable CGI, H.R. Giger-tentacle-skeleton-erotica, and made-for-Skinemax-level sci-fi horror.  Hooray!

Film Review: W. (2008, Oliver Stone)

Stars: 4 of 5.
Running Time: 129 minutes.
Notable Cast or Crew: Josh Brolin, Ellen Burstyn, James Cromwell, Richard Dreyfuss, Scott Glenn, Toby Jones, Stacy Keach, Noah Wyle, Elizabeth Banks, Bruce McGill, Jeffrey Wright, Thandie Newton, Marley Shelton.
Tag-line: "Get ready."
Best one-liner(s): "There's an old saying in Tennessee- I know it's in Texas, probably in Tennessee- that says, fool me once, shame on- shame on you. Fool me- you can't get fooled again." (also said by the actual President Bush, Nashville, Tenn., Sept. 17, 2002)

"Mr. President, what place do you think you will have in history?" "History?... In history we'll all be dead!" The road to hell is paved with good intentions, sustained by voraciously-devoured turkey club sandwiches and bowls of pretzels, and washed down with buckets of Jack Daniels (this film has got to set a record for Jack Daniels consumption) and eventually a bottle of O'Douls. Oliver Stone's W. is equal parts picaresque, grotesque, Great American Tragedy, and farce. It's just a pity that it had to play out on the world's stage with all of us as spectators and the fates of nations hanging in the balance. Josh Brolin is magnificent as W., and deserves all the accolades he receives for his tragicomic portrayal. Not receiving as much praise, but equally deserving, are Scott Glenn (who plays Rumsfeld as an unhinged, dazed sociopathic old man), Stacy Keach (as Bush's spiritual mentor and head of a burgeoning Texas megachurch), and Ellen Burstyn (as the equally bullheaded but slightly classier Barbara Bush). W. is defined by his food: removing the lettuce from his sandwich during Cheney's E. coli metaphor about WMDs, choking on a pretzel and nearly losing his life, chewing with his mouth open during most first impressions, and giving up pecan pie as a sacrifice for America's bravest giving up their lives. Stone's W. is not depicted as an evil man; instead he's an easily frustrated good old boy who was well-suited for a life of eating snacks, watching the game, playing fetch with dogs, and going on vacation- but not for holding the reins of a nation. Stone takes a bold first step in analyzing a man whom history will have no choice but to condemn, and there's hardly a thing about it that rings false- a true achievement for a film that's largely conjecture.

-Sean Gill