Showing posts with label Steve Railsback. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Steve Railsback. Show all posts

Wednesday, November 12, 2014

Lifeforce (1985)

I can honestly remember a time when vampires scared me.  Christopher Lee’s intense portrayal of Dracula in the Hammer films hit me like a ton of bricks.  I watched in queasy astonishment as the upraised, juicy, blood-tinged bite marks of his victims were unveiled on screen.  Even while watching such films on Creature Double Feature in the bright light of a Saturday afternoon (okay, in a darkened basement; work with me here), my skin crawled.  After watching Tobe Hooper’s adaptation of Stephen King’s Salem’s Lot, I slept with the covers pulled up right to my chin (because, y’know, vampires are incapable of pulling covers down to get at the warm, succulent necks of chubby Horror fans).  While there has always been a sexual component to most neck-biter works, they rarely failed to be frightening as well.  Vampires are, after all, monsters.  They prey on the living.  Their whole world view is bathed in blood.  Over time, the sensual angle came more and more to the forefront, as did the emphasis on their superhuman abilities.  Vampires have gone from being twisted bastardizations of humanity, lurking around fog-shrouded graveyards and raining death down upon their victims to angst-ridden, love-struck superheroes, who you wouldn’t mind tipping back a drink with if they just so happened to drink…wine (or whatever their non-sanguinary tipple preference would be).  I’m not going to point to any one example or franchise as being the turning point in this regard, because things like this are usually a progression of events rather than spontaneous occurrences.  And there are vampire stories today that keep the creatures’ ghoulish origins close to their hearts, to be fair.  It’s just that the balance of power (so to speak) has shifted.  Here’s to hoping it shifts back before the day I die.

While investigating Halley’s Comet up close, the crew of the S.S. Churchill discovers a large spaceship hidden in its tail.  Inside the ship are crystal sarcophagi containing two handsome young males (Chris Jagger and Bill Malin) and one astounding young female (Mathilda May), all very naked (and some bat things, but we all know what the astronauts would rather investigate).  When the space shuttle is eventually found burnt out in Earth’s orbit like an interstellar Demeter, the crystals and their contents are brought back to the European Space Research Centre.  And Hell is soon unleashed upon the planet.

Hooper’s Lifeforce is a mash-up of genres, in much the same way that its clearest predecessor, Mario Bava’s Planet of the Vampires is.  They both involve creatures which have the attributes of classic vampiric legends but with Science Fiction trappings.  Both also attempt to come up with a reason why vampires were ever “invented” as boogeymen on our planet.  I’m a sucker for Cosmic Horror of this variety, though I think that Lifeforce leans more toward the Cosmic side than the Horror side.  It also ramps up the sexuality angle, making this one something of a triple threat.  May’s Space Girl spends a large portion of her screen time in the buff, and it is her relationship with Steve Railsback’s Colonel Carlsen that is the prime driving force for the plot.  In an odd way, you could look at this as a reversal of the traditional Dracula/Mina Harker seduction trope.  It’s not quite as clean-cut as that, but we’ll come back to that issue later.  Carlsen has nightmares where he has sex with the Space Girl (what torture).  Her first words in the film are “use my body,” and she then proceeds to suck a man dry via liplock (not of blood, though; see the film’s title for further reference).  Carlsen behaves as if he doesn’t want anything to do with her, even though his first contact with her left him “invigorated.”  After Carlsen has a psychic vision of the Space Girl (in another woman’s body now) seducing a middle-aged man, he behaves like he’s jealous.  Their story is a romantic chase (boy meets girl, boy loses girl, girl gets boy), though for as much as they want to come together, they don’t want to come together.  The Space Girl beckons him to her, though their consummation can only end in either total victory or total destruction.

There are other sexual aspects to the film other than this gender reversal.  The spaceship that houses the space vampires is shaped vaguely like a penis.  Its interior (which is likened to the inside of an artery) is also reminiscent of a vaginal canal.  The entry to where the crystals are kept opens accompanied by blinding light, revelatory in its connotations as the “promised land” in sexual terms (as well as a signpost to ultimate knowledge).  When Carlsen enters it, the camera is turned upside down, the same as his world and his perspective on it are about to be.  After an encounter between Dr. Bukovsky (Michael Gothard) and the Space Girl, he describes her as “the most overwhelming [sexual] feminine presence.”  This intensity of female sexuality is horrifying to (most) males.  The male vampires, by contrast, don’t appear to have the same powers of seduction.  They are more blunt instruments, knocking stuff around as if with their bare penises (which are never shown on screen in case you were wondering).  More interesting, these monsters pass on their vampirism to the humans that they kill, and this evokes notions of sexually transmitted diseases, specifically HIV/AIDS, in how this is displayed visually.  They becomes husks, wasted away.  When the human victims come back to life, they, of course, seek out the lifeforce of others.  If they cannot get it, they dry up, rot out, and eventually explode in a cloud of biological desiccation.  Unfortunately, this element is treated as little more than a “zombie apocalypse” device in the film.

Which brings me to the problems I have with the film.  Being an adaptation of a novel (The Space Vampires by Colin Wilson), you can expect a certain amount of either streamlining or sprawling in terms of the plot.  With the former, you stand the chance of losing some of the more intriguing elements.  With the latter, you stand the chance of losing focus entirely.  And unfortunately, that is the case here.  There is a ton of exposition running through this film, and it is delivered by men basically standing around the Space Research Centre, observing some admittedly engaging events unfolding right in front of them.  We could probably call this the Kaiju Expositional Device (or KED), since it’s a common complaint of films involving giant, Japan-crushing monsters.  Railsback does the film no favors, since his usual “smolder/explode” method of acting is on full display, and rather than conveying the conflict within his character’s mind, he simply comes off as overwrought and cranky.  The logic gaps in the plotting refuse to be sewn up, no matter how much you stretch your thinking to make the ends meet.  The majority of characters outside of Carlsen and the Space Girl (including Peter Firth’s Colonel Caine, who serves no purpose other than as an authority figure by which Carlsen can access certain British government facilities; a role which could easily have been written around or out) mean little to nothing in the grand scheme of things.  The script leaps around, playing out the same scene using the same beats ending the same way just so it can be repeated again until it all comes full circle (and a rather small circle, at that).  Most disappointing, though, is that the siege of London is little more than a set of minor obstacles to drag the runtime out a bit further.  It’s almost an afterthought rather than a planned set piece.  Lifeforce is a mess of a film.  In its desire to achieve an epic sense of scope (evidenced right off the bat by Henry Mancini’s bombastic, symphonic score), it loses sight of its story in a forest of details it doesn’t take the time to flesh out satisfactorily.  Despite its good looks and infrequent moments of enjoyableness, it is a fairly dull, dry affair.  A bit like the prey of the space vampires.

MVT:  The level of production value and the special effects work are very impressive.  No surprise since John Dykstra was involved.  If nothing else, between the effects and the striking beauty of Ms. May, the film is never ugly to behold.

Make or Break:  The scene involving one Patrick Stewart is one step beyond ridiculous in a film loaded with ridiculous scenes.  I actually verbalized the sympathy I had for the actors while watching it unfold.

Score:  6/10         

Wednesday, October 29, 2014

Blue Monkey (1987)

Marwella (Helen Hughes) has a small greenhouse which she tends with great passion.  Another of her (not-so-great) passions is her handyman friend Fred (Sandy Webster), and Marwella is delighted when he asks her to dinner.  After Fred pricks his finger on a plant Marwella had received from the Micronesia area but had been doing poorly of late, he collapses and is rushed to the local hospital.  A large, larval worm emerges from his mouth, and suddenly a little prick is the least of Fred’s troubles.

William Fruet’s Blue Monkey (aka Insect! aka Invasion of the Bodysuckers) is yet another in the long, long line of films I read about way back in the day in the pages of magazines like Fangoria (issue 69, in fact).   And like a great many of those (another would be Slaughterhouse, which I reviewed on this very site some time ago), they slipped through the cracks of time and eventually faded to little more than distant memories.  But before that occurred, they became grand flights of fancy as they played out in the theater of my mind.  Never mind that, one, the theater of my mind would never translate into a coherent film narrative, and two, there is a reason why some things are best left unknown.  Thus, this film looks good on paper, while it ultimately fails on screen.  This is not for lack of material, mind you.  In fact, part of the reason that it fails is the sheer amount of material in it.  By that same token, this same volume is what marks Blue Monkey as a slight standout in the Horror genre.  Just for all the wrong reasons.

If you were simply to read the above synopsis, you would think this was a straight ahead monster flick (or maybe a melodrama about two elderly people falling in love and failing in health).  However, you have a subplot involving the disease that sprang from the same plant as the insect.  You have Jim (Steve Railsback), our hero cop, who is only in the hospital in the first place because his partner Oscar (Peter Van Wart) was shot in the stomach while on duty.  You have the comedy stylings of SCTV alumni Joe Flaherty and Robin Duke as the Bakers, who are expecting their first baby any second now.  You have the tiresome exploits of the grating child patients (one of whom is played by the soon-to-be-worth-a-damn Sarah Polley).  You also have the notion that the hospital is actually a remodeled insane asylum.  But for as intriguing as any one of these elements may be, they fail because they never form a cohesive whole when they’re all put together.  Each of these subplots seems to exist in different films from this one, and they rarely intermingle with each other in any meaningful way.  This would be fine and dandy if the disparate pieces were at least entertaining in their own right, but they’re more missed opportunities as a whole rather than successful fragments.

If filmmakers like David Cronenberg have taught us anything, it is that our bodies hate us and are looking for the first available opportunity to revolt and kill us.  Diseases, viruses, what-have-yous are scary because they are faceless (unless you’re an epidemiologist or the like).  They are the brutality, the caprice, of nature incarnate in much the same way as the animal/insect world.  They cannot be reasoned with, or jailed, or chopped into pieces like a flesh and blood enemy might be.  They embody the loss of control we see in a great many Horror films, and worse than that, they do not discriminate (or in so much as they discriminate according to the wishes of filmmakers/storytellers).  You can employ whatever safeguards you like, but if a disease wants to get you, it will get you.  And even if you choose not to believe in the all-pervasive nature of diseases, this is how they are perceived by a vast number of people.  Ergo, they are excellent fodder for genre films.  You might find it risible that Jason Voorhees could be hiding under your bed, waiting to stab you with his index finger, but a disease could already be inside your body, waiting to burst forth, and that’s suddenly not so ludicrous anymore.  Either way, you stand a good chance of seeing your innards on the outside (at least from a cinematic standpoint).  The only difference is whether they’re taken from the outside in or the inside out.

Naturally, one would think that people should feel safe in hospitals (and especially if one is afraid of dying from disease in the first place).  Yet the vast majority of non-medical personnel don’t take a great deal of solace in these institutions, and this is a significant reason why hospitals are excellent locations for Horror stories.  These are places where people are literally paid to stab, cut, and drill the bodies of their customers.  Even if the practitioners aren’t malevolent like we imagine, relishing the torment they bestow on us, there is always the possibility that they are incompetent (and no, that’s not a statement or accusation on my behalf; merely an observation on the general perception/misperception by the average person).  What if you receive the wrong medicine?  What if they amputate the wrong limb?  What if they leave an instrument inside your body?  The point is people die in hospitals every day.  You may survive your surgery, but there’s no way to tell if there won’t be complications afterward, from infections, to organ rejections, to just sudden fits of death.  Every patient in a hospital is vulnerable, and there are more than enough dark corridors and eerily silent rooms to creep out the most stalwart among us.

Because the threats in Blue Monkey are so impersonal, one would think that it would help greatly if the characters weren’t.  Sadly, they are all stereotypes of the flattest variety.  Dr. Carson (Gwynyth Walsh) is the classic, capable female doctor who instantly turns into a Screaming Mimi when faced with things outside her range (read: giant insects).  Marwella and her blind pal Dede (Joy Coghill) are the matter-of-fact, elderly folks who just happen to know more than they think they do.  Jim is the classic hardassed cop who grinds his teeth and flips out at the smallest piece of bad news (being played by Railsback doesn’t really help in this regard).  The children all act like little adults in that oh-look-how-cute-they-are-but-not-really way that simply makes them annoying rather than charming.  Even John Vernon gets to briefly strut his bureaucratic jerkoff routine for the camera.  Nevertheless, not one of these people manages to be engaging, so following them around on their little misadventures is nothing less than heavy lifting for the viewer.   This is one of those films I think it’s better to read about than experience, and that’s pretty sad.

MVT:  Once again, I have to give the award to the practical effects.  They’re cool to look at when they show up.  That said, they’re shot in such an insignificant fashion (quick cuts, low lighting, strobe lighting, shaky handheld) that you never get to fully appreciate the work that went into them.

Make or Break:  The first scene with the kiddy characters was like a prelude to the kiss of death the filmmakers would deliver just a short way down the road.  

Score:  5.5/10