Posts Tagged ‘Crap’


The Thing

October 15th, 2011 | article by | 1 Comment »
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Year: 2011   Company: Universal Pictures   Runtime: 103′
Director: Matthijs van Heijningen Jr.   Writer: Eric Heisserer    Cinematography: Michel Abramowicz
Music: Marco Beltrami   Cast: Mary Elizabeth Winstead, Joel Edgerton, Ulrich Thomsen, Eric Christian Olsen
Out Now in wide release.
In the interest of fair play, blah blah blah SPOILERS blah blah.

It’s heading towards 12:30 in the morning here as I start to write this, and it’s been roughly half an hour since the credits rolled on my late night screening of The Thing - the new Universal production based upon events hinted at, but never fully revealed, in the 1982 John Carpenter film of the same name.  Living in the city I have no car, and thus enjoyed a leisurely walk back from the theater with two friends, sharing a few social cigarettes and taking measure of what we had just witnessed as we went.  We had all been bright-eyed and hopeful as we shuffled into the theater, but we had emerged beaten, heart broken.  As I said my goodbyes and entered my apartment lobby I knew I had to start writing, and soon.  What’s more, I knew this was to be no ordinary review piece.  It was to be an exorcism.

John C. Campbell’s serialized 1938 novella Who Goes There?, a frightfully original tale of alien paranoia in the cold wastes of Antarctica, has led a charmed life with regards to its cinematic legacy – one that rivals that of Jack Finney’s 1955 novel The Body Snatchers, itself adapted successfully, and numerous times to boot.  Famed Hollywood producer and director Howard Hawks did his friend and sometimes editor Christopher Nyby a favor in granting him the role of director on Who Goes There?‘s first screen adaptation, 1951′s The Thing From Another World.  One of the most successful genre productions of its time in terms of craftsmanship and entertainment value, The Thing From Another World nevertheless altered much of the substance of the source story and, frankly, bares little direct relation Universal’s newest iteration.  It’s still a fantastic film, and anyone reading this article owes it to themselves to track it down.

Tenuous as its relationship to the 2011 film may be, The Thing From Another World cements its place in the paternal heritage of it by virtue of its influence on one man – John Carpenter, who for his first major Hollywood production was given the green light to craft Who Goes There?‘s second cinematic interpretation.  Rather than source from the 1951 screenplay, though several of its points are homaged, Carpenter’s screenwriter Bill Lancaster sought inspiration directly from the Campbell novella.  The results were phenomenal in their own right, a gruesome exercise in paranoia and body horror whose disgustingly imaginative creature effects put Rob Bottin on the map.  Carpenter’s The Thing replicates Campbell’s original shape-shifting alien menace with genuinely disturbing results, horrifying its audience through a palpable sense of isolation and by concealing its terrors beneath ordinary human skin.  Who can the audience trust when the cast of the film can’t trust itself, and anyone might be a “thing”?

It may seem strange to spend such a goodly part of an article purportedly devoted to a new release by praising its predecessors, but this new The Thing positively demands such comparison by virtue of its existence alone.  Directed by feature newcomer Matthijs van Heijningen Jr. and penned by Eric Heisserer (A Nightmare on Elm Street 2010 and Final Destination 5) this new The Thing foregoes any attempts at further adapting the Campbell story (though it is credited) and instead takes the Carpenter film as its jumping off point, choosing to relate events that occurred prior to that film’s narrative start but whose aftermath is shown therein.  As such The Thing 2011 exists as a willful companion piece to the 1982 film, even going so far as to repeat some of the footage from that film in its final reel, and doesn’t so much invite as necessitate comparisons between itself and its selfsame predecessor / successor.

Things become more complicated when one tries to classify just what this The Thing actually is.  In terms of its timeline it is clearly a prequel, a film that takes place before the narrative of an earlier film.  Simple enough, right?  Unfortunately screenwriter Heisserer lacked the imagination necessary to craft any sort of original story from the key points of the 1982 The Thing - a creepy cremated inhuman corpse, a helicopter chasing a dog, an unearthed spaceship and a shack full of dead Norwegians – that it insists upon following.  The result is a prequel that repurposes so much of the narrative arc of the film that it purportedly precedes, going so far as to replicate not just events but whole groups of characters,  that it actually becomes a remake of it as well.  And so this The Thing comes full circle, becoming an allegory for itself – a hollow cinematic monstrosity that tries very hard to convince audiences it’s something that it isn’t.

To anyone at all familiar with the 1982 The Thing a relation of the plot here is mostly pointless, as only the trappings are different.  Paleontologist Mary Elizabeth Winstead and her disposable mop-haired associate are contracted by a Norwegian scientist to travel to an isolated Antarctic geological research site and dig up the thing of the title.  Along the way they meet up with two American helicopter pilots – one channeling Keith David, the other Kurt Russel.  Once there the thing, the survivor of a gigantic crashed flying saucer, is quickly dug out of the ice and moved to a Norwegian camp full of disposable bearded men of dubious purpose.  A bit of brazen stupidity on the part of the team’s resident baddie, an egotistical scientist of something or other who wants to ride his discovery all the way to a Nobel prize, results in the thing getting loose, leading to the expected monster antics but little else.  Winstead eventually discovers the thing’s devilish shape-shifting secret and quickly sets about checking the fillings in everyone’s teeth (the thing is evidently incapable of growing and too stupid to fake inorganic features), though she needn’t have bothered – it takes every opportunity to spoil the fun and pop out of its warm and people-y hiding places.

On that note let’s talk special effects, and why the “anything is possible” promise of computer animation has let this particular vehicle down so badly.  Contrary to what many unflinching adherents to the old ways may think, my problem here is not one of methods, and as such I’ll not argue that Rob Bottin’s traditional latex and karo syrup techniques are any more acceptable than the CGI that gluts the market today.  The problem here is with frequency, and the “anything is possible” tendency to whip up any batshit idea that comes to mind regardless of whether or not it serves the story.  Carpenter’s 1982 The Thing is a certifiable gross-out affair, but a sparing one, and its limited number of outrageous effects set-pieces are both appropriate for the titular menace (which only emerges in defense of itself or in secret) and allow the film to build and at times subvert audience expectations.  In one famous bit the head of a human impostor, in a show of mad self preservation, creeps off a medical table and propels itself about a room by its tongue before sprouting a set of slender insectine legs and skittering towards freedom.  It’s an effect that still prompts an ick reaction from this jaded viewer.

There are attempts at similar occurrences in The Thing 2011, with a multitude of people’s arms sloughing off (I’m honestly not sure where all the arms come from) and becoming skittery lobster monsters, but the film insists upon repeating them until they are devoid of even the minimal impact they had to start with.  The joy of the 1982 The Thing is that the creature’s form is all together unpredictable – each appearance is different from the last, with the beast’s true nature, if any, remaining obscure.  What’s more, the creature’s more monstrous forms are granted a purpose - self preservation in the face of certain annihilation.  The Thing 2011 can’t be bothered with such silliness as that and instead shows its monsters early and often and with little rhyme or reason.  Muscular and be-tentacled torsos and heads careen from one end of the Norwegian camp to the other with much growling and gnashing of teeth, but it’s all so obvious.  Of what possible evolutionary benefit is shape-shifting if the creature keeps exposing itself to that from which it is attempting to hide?  Don’t ask The Thing 2011, as it doesn’t have a clue.

Similarly clueless are The Thing 2011′s multitude of under-developed sub-characters, who wander off alone and in pairs even after the alien’s penchant for hiding in people skins is made abundantly clear (if you know a shape-shifting alien is afoot and someone asks you to wander off with them for some dubious purpose, don’t do it – you will be killed).  Heisserer’s scripting seems mostly to blame, though one might well ask how such bunk was ever green lit in the first place.  It’s difficult to gauge the level of proficiency of the cast, as even Winstead is given little to do but state the obvious and look stern.  The various Norwegians grumble a lot and shout a bit, but mostly just die.   Of some note is Heisserer’s odd fixation on birth-related horrors, which is reflected in the special effects production – an autopsy of an alien creature reveals a “womb”, and man after man is engulfed by toothy vaginal whatsits.  It’s the sort of thing that might make for an interesting article if The Thing 2011 could be bothered to make the viewer care.  As such it’s just so much trapping.

The Thing 2011 eventually devolves into a standard chase scenario, with Winstead pursuing the last inhuman holdout across the ice and into the alien ship for an action sequence of inept proportions.  I was hoping for one last gasp of originality, perhaps a whole ship-load of anomolous alien monstrosities, but no dice.  As the credits cranked up the beginning of the 1982 film began to roll, complete with Ennio Morricone’s sparse and haunting score – their tarnished memories were a final insult.  For Heijningen, Heisserer, and all of the producers who had a say in this The Thing coming to pass I had but a single parting thought:



Zombie Rival – The Super Ninja Master

August 15th, 2011 | article by | No Comments »
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a.k.a. Zombie vs. Ninja / Zombie Rivals / Zombie Rival / Zombie Rival – The Super Master
Year:
1988   Company: IFD Films and Arts Limited   Runtime: 88′
Director: Godfrey Ho   Writers: AAV Creative Center, Godfrey Ho    Cinematography: Raymond Chang
Music: Stephen Tsang   Cast: Pierre Kirby, Dewey Bosworth, Thomas Hartham, Patrick Frzebar, Elton Chong,
Mike Wong-Lung, Jin Nu-Ri, Guk Ching-Woon, Kim Wuk, Cheung Chit, Kim Wong-Cheol, Park Wan-Su
Order the OOP VHS edition from Amazon.com

First things first – I’ve absolutely no idea what this little nugget of white-ninja mayhem is supposed to be called, and a quick Google search reveals that it has no fewer than five titles in English alone!  Even the IFD Films and Arts-produced English trailer appears confused, showing one title while the narrator reads another.  It seems pertinent to note that none of the five titles I found are terribly accurate, from the relatively straight-forward Zombie vs. Ninja on up.  As such I’ll be referring to the film by my favorite of the five, which also happens to be the most convoluted and nonsensical: Zombie Rival – The Super Ninja Master.

Never let it be said that Joseph Lai and Godfrey Ho couldn’t come up with a good title (or five) when pressed for them.  Good films, however, seem to have been another matter entirely…

Zombie Rival – The Super Ninja Master follows squarely in the footsteps of other Lai and Ho spectacles, and presents viewers with a more or less passable import feature that’s been cut to match a new story (in this case one written by the dubbing company!) and framed with all-new Ho-directed material starring an all-white cast.  In this case the results are particularly dubious but no less enjoyable for the trouble, with ‘stars’ Pierre Kirby and Dewey Bosworth (of Thunder of Gigantic Serpent fame) looking well out of place in their shiny off-the-shelf fighting regalia and matching ninja head bands.  Remember kids, real ninjas wear head gear that says ninja.

"I think his name is Duncan... something..."

At its heart Zombie Rival – The Super Ninja Master is actually a fanciful South Korean martial arts comedy from 1983, The Undertaker From Sohwa Province, a film that unfortunately appears unavailable in its original condition (VHS and DVD releases under the title Gravedigger are reportedly sourced from the ZRTSNM edit, and lose the hilarious white-guys but retain the awful English dialogue track that refers to them).  The story for Undertaker follows a predictable arc, with an impetuous youngster witnessing the deaths of his parents at the hands of kung-fu baddies, then hooking up with a secret martial arts master so that he might learn the tricks of the trade and seek glorious kung-fu vengeance.

Though the story of The Undertaker From Sohwa Province will sound broadly familiar, the difference is really in the details.  The requisite kung-fu master is the eponymous undertaker, a scabby buck-toothed parody who raises the dead just for kicks and relishes nothing more than tormenting his young underling Ethan (that’s IFD Film and Arts’ name for him, not mine – he’s played affably by South Korean genre star Elton Chong).  Through the undertaker’s bizarre tactics Ethan somehow learns a fighting style that looks like the martial arts equivalent of dancing the robot.  If that’s what digging holes and carrying around coffins full of rocks all day can net you, then count me in!  It is in this source film that the only supernatural elements of Zombie Rival – The Super Ninja Master are found, as the undertaker’s underling does practice combat with a variety of living corpses.  Peripheral characters also display unnatural abilities, as in the case of a female baddie who seems capable of disappearing at will.

There’s a lot of legitimate bemusement to be had with Undertaker‘s light-hearted material, which features Ethan sledding through a wintry forest on a coffin among other things.  The same cannot be said of the frequently profane post-dubbing applied by Lai associate ADDA Audio and Visual limited (who helped Joseph Lai bring knock-off pan-Asian animations like Raiders of Galaxy to English audiences), which is heaps of fun for all the wrong reasons.  I can’t imagine that there were more than a handful of personnel working the voice side of Zombie Rival – The Super Ninja Master, but they get away with a range of improbable characterizations, from the shrill, squeaky undertaker to the arch and dramatic father of his pupil.  Adding to the hilarity are the highly inappropriate English names forced upon the characters – in addition to Ethan there are Bobby, Bert, Ira, Mason, Duncan and so on.

  
  
  

The competent (if incompetently presented) Undertaker is interrupted early and often by the new white-centric dramatics of Godfrey Ho.  The writing for these sequences fairs about as well as for the other dubbed material, often beginning mid-conversation (“…so that’s the plan”) and continuing on into dull and ambiguous pontificating about stolen gold and positions of power.  All of it would be quite drab and forgettable were it not being performed with such earnest by middle-aged white men running around the woods in cheap Halloween costumes.  Ho attempts, if only lazily, to intersect his new story with that of the appropriated footage, but the results are awful at best, with Pierre Kirby and Dewey Bosworth speaking to characters obviously in other locations entirely.

When it comes to action Ho is a bit better equipped, even if the results are less than stellar.  Ho coaxes Kirby, Bosworth, and a larger cast of unrecognizable Caucasians into a slew of lightning-paced action sequences that have katanas clashing and men leaping about with maddening frequency.  It reminded fondly of the psychotic action direction seen in the Turkish exploitation of old, trampolines and all, and I wasn’t bothered in the least when Kirby was replaced mid-shot by a foot-shorter stunt double in an awful floppy wig.

Truth be told, I was at a complete loss for what to say about Zombie Rival – The Super Ninja Master until just this point, and now I think I’ve said more than enough.  There’s no arguing that it’s an immensely stupid, terrible film, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoyed every minute of it.  Between this and the indescribable Robo Vampire I feel I’m quickly becoming one of the Ho faithful, and open to whatever dreadful implications that might imply.  Your mileage may vary, but if you only see one “bad white actors pretending to be ninjas” film this year it may as well be this one.

This review needed more Pierre Kirby. I make no apologies.

in conclusion
Film: Yeah, about that…
Final Thoughts: This is another martial arts pastiche of remarkable stupidity, but with Godfrey Ho involved we should expect nothing less.  I loved it, but may not be of sound mind.


Contamination .7

May 23rd, 2011 | article by | 3 Comments »
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a.k.a. Creepers / The Crawlers / Troll III
Year: 1990   Company: Filmirage   Runtime: 91′
Director: Joe D’Amato, Fabrizio Laurenti   Writers: Daniele Stoppa, Fabrizio Laurenti, Albert Lawrence, Rosella Drudi   Cinematography: Francisco J. Madurga   Music: Carlo Maria Cordio   Cast: Mary Sellers, Jason Saucier, Bubba Reeves, Chelsi Stahr, Vince O’Neil, Billy Buttler, Lord Chester, Patrick Collins, Edy Eby
Available on OOP VHS from Epic Home Video, or as streaming video vis Netflix Instant Viewing.

It’s never a good sign when a film is most popularly known for being a member of the dubious Troll franchise, particularly when the film in question has nothing to do with tiny mythical monsters or their wily ways.  Such is the case with Contamination .7, a cheapo Filmirage sci-fi horror whose only connection to the Troll empire are a few crew members and a penchant for being immeasurably dreadful.  Never mind that I could find no corroborating evidence for Contamination .7 ever actually being released as Troll III (a title also bestowed upon D’Amato’s confoundedly inept Ator sequel Quest for the Mighty Sword- the name has stuck with the online community and, for this film, that’s good enough.

A tasteless mix of inert drama, The China Syndrom-style conspiracy claptrap, and limp mutant monster mayhem, Contamination .7 (or whatever you want to call it) concerns an ill-defined and unnamed small town in the American West whose very existence is threatened when illegal toxic waste dumping by a nuclear plant causes local trees to sprout evil carnivorous roots.  That’s right. Evil… carnivorous… roots.

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Robo Vampire

March 21st, 2011 | article by | 2 Comments »
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Year: 1988   Company: Filmark International Ltd.   Runtime: 90′
Director: Charles Lee   Writers: William Palmer   Cinematography: Anthony Mang
Music: Alan Wilson   Cast: Robin Mackay, Nian Watts, Harry Miles, Joe Browne, Nick Norman,
George Tripos, David Borg, Diana Byrne, Alan Drury, Ernst Mausser, Sorapong Chatree
Available on OOP DVD from BCI / Eclipse. Product link: Amazon.com

Confession time.  I’ve been slacking off on my Wtf-Film duties as of late, content with letting the movies come to me by way of screeners or the odd pre-order.  That’s not to say that I haven’t covered some good stuff, with Phenomena and The Beyond arriving from Arrow Video or Shout! Factory’s latest MST3K box, but all of those properties fell right into my lap (or mailbox, rather).  The simple sad fact of the matter is that I’ve been lazy, satisfied to bask in the relative comfort of review discs while this site’s purpose fades into the ether.

Well no more, I say!  I long for that elusive high, the blissful intoxication of chancing upon a film of mind-altering strangeness.  It’s high time that the hunt was on again, and I’ll be damned if today’s find didn’t get the dopamine a-flowing.

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Flesheater

March 9th, 2011 | article by | 5 Comments »
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a.k.a.: Flesh Eater: Return of the Living Dead / Return of the Living Zombies / Zombie Nosh
Year: 1988   Company: H & G Films Ltd., Hinzman   Runtime: 88′
Director: Bill Hinzman   Writers: Bill Hinzman, Bill Randolph   Cinematography: Simon Manses
Music: Erica Portnoy   Cast: Bill Hinzman, John Mowod, Leslie Ann Wick, Kevin Kindlin,
Charis Kirkpatrick Acuff, James J. Rutan, Lisa Smith, Denise Morrone, Mark Strycula
Disc company: Media Blasters / Shriek Show   Video: 1080p 1.78:1    Audio: DTS-HD MA 2.0 English
Subtitles: None   Disc: BD25 (Region A)   Release Date: 08/31/2010   Product link: Amazon.com

A bunch of drunk college jerks, hillbillies and innocent bystanders become embroiled in a zombie epidemic when a farmer unwittingly releases the eponymous Flesh Eater (guess who?) from his woodland tomb.  A local posse loosely organized by the police heads out to stop the crisis before the entire state of Pennsylvania is infested with walking un-dead.

Sometime in the ’80s Bill Hinzman, the cemetery ghoul from Romero’s 1968 opus Night of the Living Dead, walked into a horror convention and realized that, for whatever reason, he and his zombie alter-ego had developed a cult following.  Looking to capitalize on his middling fame and give his fans more of what they admired him for, Hinzman (who had made a comfortable living for himself in industrial films) set about developing a zombie vanity project in which he would take credit as producer, writer, director, editor, and star.  The result is 1988′s Flesh Eater (released straight-to-video by Magnum Entertainment as Revenge of the Living Zombies), a shoestring horror steeped to the gills in gore, sleaze, and unimaginable stupidity.

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The Terror Within / Dead Space

November 16th, 2010 | article by | No Comments »
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The Terror Within: Year: 1989   Company: Concorde Pictures   Runtime: 88′
Director: Thierry Notz   Writer: Thomas M. Cleaver   Cinematography: Ronn Schmidt
Music: Rick Conrad  Cast: George Kennedy, Andrew Stevens, Starr Andreff, Terri Treas
Dead Space: Year: 1991   Company: Califilm   Runtime: 72′
Director: Fred Gallo   Writer: Catherine Cyran   Cinematography: Mark Parry
Music: Daniel May    Cast: Marc Singer, Bryan Cranston, Judith Chapman, Laura Tate
Disc company: Shout! Factory   Video: Progressive, 1.85:1 (16:9) / 4:3    Audio: DD 2.0 English
Subtitles: None   Disc: Dual Layer DVD9   Release Date: 11/02/2010   Product link: Amazon.com

Isolated bands of post-apocalyptic survivors and scientists are threatened by mutant terrors courtesy of this double feature from Shout! Factory’s continuing Roger Corman’s Cult Classics line.  Corman was never one to let a success pass him by, but even he was pushing it in plundering Alien for inspiration a decade after the fact.  Neither of these films would have registered as more than a blip on the box office radar of their time, but I suspect that wasn’t the point.  With the drive-in generation drawing to a close and independents being pushed to the very edge, Corman was banking on a new cultural storm to earn him his cherished buck – the age of the video store.

The Terror Within plays as a more-or-less straight forward rip-off of Ridley Scott’s iconic horror opus, bookended by apocalyptic motifs Corman himself had been working with since the ’50s.  Sometime in the future an anonymous plague, brought on by no-good biological warfare research, has left the world a de-populated wasteland crawling with near-invincible mutants dubbed ‘gargoyles’.  George Kennedy and his band of government-employed survivors must fight to survive when the monsters, who reproduce by raping human women, invade their underground research compound in the Mojave Desert.

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Slumber Party Massacre III

September 17th, 2010 | article by | No Comments »
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film rating:
disc rating:
company: New Concorde
year: 1990
runtime: 87′
director: Sally Mattison
cast: Yan Birch, Brandi Burckett,
Hope Marie Carlton, Keely Christian,
Maria Claire, Alexander Falk
writer: Catherine Cyran
cinematography: Jurgen Baum
music: Jamie Sheriff
Reviewed from a screener provided
by Shout! Factory, LLC.
Pre-order this film from Amazon.com

The Slumber Party Massacre Collection double disc DVD set is due out from Shout! Factory on October 5th, in plenty of time for Halloween get togethers, and can currently be pre-ordered through Amazon.com and other online retailers.

After being pleasantly surprised, thrilled even, with The Slumber Party Massacre and Slumber Party Massacre II, it’s perhaps best to say as little about Slumber Party Massacre III as possible. The period of Corman productions that began with the formation of New Concorde isn’t one I look upon with much fondness, being the time when his method of producing low-budget knock-offs of others’ (not to mention his own) successes was falling flat more and more. I may be a biased supporter of Corman and his place as a visionary independent producer, but even my admiration has its limits.

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King of Snake

September 4th, 2010 | article by | 1 Comment »
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film rating:
a.k.a. Daai Yi Wong, Daai Se Wong
(lit. Big Snake King)
company: ??
year: 1982
runtime: 88′
director: Chui Yuk-Lung
cast: Tarcy Su, Leung Sau-Geun,
Ng Fung, Danny Lee,
Paul Chang Chung, Chow Shui-Fong,
David Tong Wai, Unknown Taiwanese Actor (1)
writers: Yiu Hing-Hong
and Ng Man-Leung
special effects director: Chujio Shintaro
cinematographer: Liao Wan-Wen
Not available on home video

Once more into the breach, dear friends, once more.  Next week things will be different – honest! But every misguided quest must have an end, and the finale to my impromptu monster-palooza is a real snooze.

1982’s grammatically impaired King of Snake is perhaps best known for being purchased by Joseph Lai’s IFD Film and Arts and manipulated by Hong Kong schlock extraordinaire Godfrey Ho into the 1988 oddity Thunder of Gigantic Serpent. That film follows French super-soldier Ted Fast as he hunts down balding white villain Solomon while a girl’s giant pet snake runs amok. King of Snake doesn’t gain much from the exclusion of Ho’s material, and instead offers viewers twice the boring story stuff and half the absurd fun.

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The Second Atlantis

June 24th, 2010 | article by | No Comments »
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company:
Ace Books, Inc.
number: F-335
year: 1965
length: 123 p.
writer: Robert Moore Williams
cover art: Gray Morrow
Order this book from Amazon.com

It shouldn’t surprise anyone familiar with my taste in film to learn that I have something of a soft spot for the garbage literature peddled by publishers like Monarch and Ace Books in the early half of the ’60s, particularly the science fiction potboilers that earned them so much of their keep.  With its stilted prose, paper-thin plot and utter lack of literary aspiration, Robert Moore Williams’ (The Day They H-Bombed Los Angeles) The Second Atlantis comfortably dwells in bona fide guilty pleasure territory, fighting the good fight for cultural degradation and brain damage right with the best (worst?) of them.

Offering up very, very little in the way of plot (basically it’s ‘a bad thing happens and people walk away from it’ for 120 pages), The Second Atlantis presents readers with a singular horrific event and then bombards them with unnecessary characters until the feeble, New Age-y conclusion is within sight.  At least the event in this case is a good one, a massive chart-topping earthquake that just keeps rolling, turning the greater Los Angeles area into a crumbling, fiery ruin before unceremoniously burying it under the Pacific.  The improbable catastrophe is of Emmerich-ian magnitude, baring no small resemblance to that director’s destruction of L.A. in the recent mega-budget mega-disaster flick 2012.  It’s not particularly well conveyed, with Williams’ awkward nested metaphors proving more distracting than illustrative (see the example below), but it offers up enough in the way of trashy thrills to keep the page turning.

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The Human Centipede (First Sequence)

May 5th, 2010 | article by | 5 Comments »
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rating:
company:
Six Entertainment
year: 2009
runtime: 90′
director: Tom Six
cast: Dieter Laser, Arthur C. Williams,
Ashlynn Yennie, Akihiro Kitamura,
Andreas Leupold, Peter Blankenstein
writer: Tom Six
cinematography: Goof de Koning
music: Patrick Savage
and Holeg Spies
out in limited release and
on demand from IFC Films

It’s safe to say that expectations for The Human Centipede (First Sequence), Dutch director Tom Six’s foray into gross-out surgical horror, have been set unreasonably high in advance of its US theatrical and On Demand release through IFC Films.  Its twisted premise has been described as disturbing, disgusting, controversial and just plain creepy, and understandably so.  I mean, who wouldn’t be grossed out by the sight of a trio of helpless people connected, end to end, to create one long ass-to-mouth digestive tract?  Well, me I guess.

That The Human Centipede has won numerous genre festival awards and received no end of accolades in the horror press is of little consequence, as once one pierces through the layers of obfuscating hype to see the film itself the sad truth of it becomes obvious.  This movie sucks ass.

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Robowar

April 30th, 2010 | article by | 2 Comments »
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company: Flora Film
year: 1988
runtime: 91′
country: Italy
director: Bruno Mattei
cast: Reb Brown, Catherine Hickland,
Mel Davidson, Max Laurel
writers: Rossella Drudi
and Claudio Fragasso
cinematography: Richard Grassetti
not on home video in the USA

A merry mercenary group working under the delightful moniker of BAM (as the film explains, this is an acronym for “Bad-ass motherfuckers”), is hired by shady government types to go on The Mission for them. Now you might ask yourself: “What’s this mission about?”. The film isn’t going to tell you. It is in fact withholding this information for its audience’s own good, or at least to spare you wasting too many brain cells, as The Mission will turn out to be not what our heroes believe it to be, so there surely is no need to bother your pretty little heads with it.

All members of BAM have manly codenames like Killzone, Blood, or Diddy Bopper, alas they very seldom use them when talking to each other. The only thing that’s important about them is that their leader is played by Reb Brown and that the rest of them might just as well be wearing red shirts instead of army fatigues. Reb ain’t too happy when he learns that the team is going to be accompanied by a man of the Man who just might be called Asshole or Fuck You (Mel Davison). But what can a Reb do when he’s already somewhere in Central America and on The Mission with his guys?

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When Time Ran Out . . .

April 15th, 2010 | article by | 2 Comments »
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rating:
company: Warner Bros. and
International Cinema Corp.
year: 1980
runtime: 109′
country: United States
director: James Goldstone
cast: Paul Newman, Jacqueline Bisset,
William Holden, Edward Albert,
Red Buttons, Ernest Borgnine,
James Franciscus, Burgess Meredith,
Pat Morita, John Consodine
writers: Carl Foreman and
Stirling Siliphant (from a novel by
Gordon Thomas and Max Morgan Witts)
cinematographer: Fred J. Koenekamp
music: Lalo Schifrin
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Warner Bros. must have felt plenty gipped after successful film and television producer Irwin Allen jumped ship at 20th Century Fox and began making films under their banner.  Allen’s seminal disaster efforts The Poseidon Adventure and The Towering Inferno had grossed $200 million collectively just a few years prior, giving Warner plenty of reason to sink million after million into new Allen productions.  Allen was first put to work in the television market, where he conceived a host of derivative suspense pictures like Flood! and Cave In!, most of whose titles ended in exclamation points.  By the time Allen entered the big-budget world of theatrical pictures again things had changed.  The disaster craze had run its course, more or less, and the American public was weary of seeing the same old tropes paraded before their eyes.

1978′s The Swarm would prove Allen’s first epic failure, earning back less than half of its estimated budget of $21 million.  His big comeback feature Beyond the Poseidon Adventure is said to have done worse still, though this reviewer had no luck hunting down its box office returns.  Beyond was universally derided by critics and rejected by audiences, lasting a mere two weeks in general release.  1980′s When Time Ran Out . . . would prove to be Allen’s final chance at luring audiences back to his increasingly outdated brand, his last big swing at melding stars, spectacle, and soap opera dramatics into box office gold.  Even after The Swarm and Beyond the Poseidon Adventure, I doubt anyone could have imagined just how terrible an idea this one was.

Held together by little more than contractual obligations, When Time Ran Out . . . stars The Towering inferno alumni Paul Newman and William Holden (Sabrina) in ostensibly the same roles (inversely, the rich property owner and the doom-sayer), and Jacqueline Bisset (Under the Volcano), who helped usher in the American disaster craze with 1970′s Airport.  The list of unfortunately involved name talent goes on and on, with the likes of Burgess Meredith (Of Mice and Men), Ernest Borgnine (Emperor of the North), Red Buttons (The Poseidon Adventure), James Franciscus, Edward Albert, Pat Morita, and on . . . and on . . . and on . . .  Everyone looks uncomfortable to be in the picture at all, though they trudge on professionally all the same.  Meredith seems particularly perturbed, having been granted a cheap plot contrivance (he’s a high wire artist – that won’t figure into things later . . . ) instead of a role.


Narratively, When Time Ran Out . . . is pretty sorry stuff.  The script, by otherwise exceptional writers Stirling Silliphant (Village of the Damned, In the Heat of the Night) and Carl Foreman (The Bridge on the River Kwai, High Noon), follows the usual Allen tropes.  A huge cast of everyday people is accumulated in a luxury accommodation, in this case a newly opened resort hotel on an island, threatened with ongoing disaster, in this case a volcanic eruption, and forced on a dangerous trek to safety, in this case the other side of the island.  The disaster builds in the usual way, with the obvious ominous portents of danger being ignored by those in charge.  Par for the course, most of the good guys reach salvation while the baddies (and most of the supporting players) meet their untimely ends.

The traditional Irwin Allen walk of doom, a staple of his brand since 1960′s The Lost World and possibly before, feels particularly tired here, with two unnecessarily lengthy man-on-ledge set pieces tasked with the bulk of the suspense-ratcheting.  The second of these, in which the intrepid survivors contend with a slowly crumbling foot bridge suspended over a river of bubbling lava (cue Meredith and his high-wire act), drags on for the better part of twenty minutes!  Lalo Schifrin (Enter the Dragon, Dirty Harry) is particularly deserving of audience sympathies here, forced to compose some 17 minutes of endless suspense cues to keep the illusion of action going.

Warner, undoubtedly disappointed by then with Allen’s output under their name, seems to have had the decency not to spend more than was absolutely necessary to bring When Time Ran Out . . . to its unfortunate fruition.  It’s clear that after the performers’ salaries and basics of production were covered, the special effects crew was left with peanuts to work with.  The realization of the volcano is, frankly, horrid, amounting to a single matte for daytime shots and uninspired stock footage and process work otherwise.  There is a huge disconnect between the purported threat of the volcano and the reality on screen, the fine Hawaiian locations dispensed with in favor of stuffy and unconvincing studio rigs for the suspense setups.  Poor Newman (“The lava is headed this way . . .”) is gifted the dubious honor of convincing audiences of the danger (“The lava is still headed this way . . .”) as visuals of the slowly approaching molten death fail again and again to materialize.



Then there is the writing for the volcano, which is so pointed in its actions that it should be credited as a character all its own.  Particularly noteworthy are the lava bombs erupting out of it, all of which are aimed (occasionally in multiples of three) squarely at James Franciscus (the requisite baddie, who is greedy and cheats on his girlfriend and, thusly, deserves to die) and the resort hotel under his command.  The lava bombs themselves are pretty inconsistent, causing only minor damage while the heroes are around and sending the hotel up in a massive fireball once they’re safely away.  The realism of things is highly questionable even before the eruption, however.  So-called scientists operate an observatory on the precipitous rim of the volcano their studying, and go so far as to lower a glass-bottomed volcano-vator directly into it just so Paul Newman can get a peak.  Damn the seismographs, it sure looks like it’s acting up . . .

What all of this amounts to is a horrible film that easily ranks as one of the worst of the entire disaster cycle and the biggest box office no-go of Irwin Allen’s career (regaining only $1.7 million of it $20 million budget in general release).  It’s also my favorite of Allen’s films, ludicrous in the extreme and existing at a level of sublime hilarity that Roland Emmerich can only aspire to.  2012 may have whole continents ripping themselves gloriously apart, but where are the men falling sideways into library footage of lava pits just because a plot contrivance necessitates that they stand on the skids of a helicopter while it flies directly over the eruption?  When Time Ran Out . . . is one of the best inadvertent spoofs of its own genre ever devised, a film that would have been brilliant if intentional and is just too fantastically stupid to be ignored.

Warner Brothers was kind enough to keep When Time Ran Out . . . from DVD circulation until after star Paul Newman (who listed it as the only picture he regretted when interviewed by Larry King in 1998) passed late in 2008, but also greedy enough to use his namesake as a means of moving more product.  When Time Ran Out . . . was released as part of the Paul Newman Film Series in February of last year.  The disc is absolutely bare bones, lacking even a chapter selection menu, and features only the shorter theatrical cut (109′) of the film (a 141′ cut was released to VHS previously, for those who want more time to run out of).  Without its big-name star this would probably have ended up a part of Warner’s Archive Collection, alongside Irwin Allen’s made-for-TV. disaster films.  The transfer is a nice progressive job from elements in great condition.  There’s very light damage throughout, more evident in the cheap process shots, but color, detail, and contrast are all quite nice.  Frankly this looks far better than it probably should – the Fred J. Koenekamp (The Amityville Horror, Beyond the Valley of the Dolls) cinematography is one of the only genuinely good things about the film.  Audio is a simple and clear monophonic track. Subtitles are available in English SDH or French.

Just one of the many top-notch effects that await you in 'When Time Ran Out . . ."

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Winterbeast

April 13th, 2010 | article by | 2 Comments »
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rating:
company:
Mercury International Pictures
and Winterbeast Entertainment Group
year: 1991
runtime: 76′
country: United States
director: Christopher Thies
cast: Tim R. Morgan, Mike Magri,
Charles Majka, Bob Harlow,
Lissa Breer, Dori May Kelly
writers: Christopher Thies,
Joseph Calabrese and Mark Frizzell
cinematographers: Bob Goodness
and Craig B. Mathieson
music: Michael Perilstein
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There are bad movies, and there are worse movies.  Then there is Winterbeast, which occupies an especially awful niche all its own.  Begun with the best of independent exploitation intentions by friends Mark Frizzell and Christopher Thies, Winterbeast‘s production collapsed before the film could be completed, leaving Frizzell to piece together what footage there was as best as could be done.  The complete uncompleted project was released to VHS in 1991 to near universal derision and forgotten . . . for a while, at least.  Stupid DVD revolution . . .

Winterbeast has a slight problem with narrative continuity.  Namely, there is none.  The best I can piece together is that an old mountain is an ancient gateway to Hell, and that a crazy lodge manager who looks and sounds like an older version of this guy is feeding his guests to totem pole monsters so that said gateway will spit out a big powerful demon . . . or something.  Combating the fiendish plot of the lodge owner (only a nutty Satanist would dare wear a plaid flannel shirt with a suit jacket and tie) are a group of under-introduced and mentally deficient forest rangers led by a guy with a perpetually changing mustache.

Now the gateway to hell / demon summoning storyline would have been easy enough to follow if said storyline hadn’t spontaneously combust (along with the surprisingly flammable lodge owner) an hour into the picture.  From that point on its an endless procession of monster attacks, at least one of which is pretty cool, and unconnected dialogue.  “Oh shit – I knew I shouldn’t have let them go up there!” says one man after looking at a white piece of paper.  Who is he talking about? Why is he worried?  What was on that piece of paper?  I don’t know.  Such are the mysteries of Winterbeast.


The ending comes rather unexpectedly.  The wintery demon appears and slow-mo chases changing-mustache guy and his pal, who is carrying around some disembodied head idol thing.  Changing-mustache guy grabs a Very pistol (and unlimited ammunition, apparently) and runs around shooting (badly) at the winterbeast with it.  After a few minutes of that he randomly takes aim at the disembodied head idol thing his buddy is carrying and destroys it, causing the winterbeast, who has just sprouted an Alien-style toothy protuberance, to smolder and die.  Changing-mustache guy and his pal laugh and wander off – the end?

There’s a lot of weirdness on display in Winterbeast, like gross misuse of plaid flannel clothing of all colors and a creepy stuffed deer head that shows up in multiple locations and always seems to be staring at the audience.  Maybe it knows something we don’t.  Perhaps it read the script.  There are lots of monsters, though their purpose is as questionable as the rest of the picture.  The attacks all progress in the same fashion, more or less: A random stop-motion armature appears and roars while a few reaction shots from the human cast are cut in.   Then the monster picks up a playdough stand-in for a person, does something horrible to it, and disappears, never to be seen again.  Some of the stop motion creations are kind of neat, notably a thorny dragon thing that munches down on a cardboard stand-in for one of the actors, but their appearances are mercilessly brief.  The winterbeast itself is a man-in-suit creation that looks intimidating enough, but it doesn’t really do anything except wander around and eventually die.

The human action is as weird and inexplicable as the monster stuff.  Changing-mustache guy and thorny-dragon victim spend the first 11 minutes of the picture looking at porno mags, followed directly by a monster attack featuring the film’s only other gratuitous nudity.  Pretty much everything concerning the constantly screaming lodge owner is bizarre, though his pre-combustion song-and-dance number takes the cake.  Just before confronting the heroes and setting himself ablaze he puts on an old recording of the What Can the Matter Be nursery rhyme, lip-syncs to it for a few lines, then puts on a creepy plastic mask and starts dancing around in a room full of previously unseen dead bodies.  Then there’s the scene in which changing-mustache man and his pal look through a box of old native relics, ignoring a big fake penis that’s sitting atop everything else.


Weirdness aside, the majority of Winterbeast is comprised of useless and painfully static stretches of tempo-free dialogue.  There are some real zingers in the mix, like the lodge owner screaming, “There aren’t any demons in this town except assholes who try to create them!” or changing-mustache guy’s redundant, “I’ve seen this before.  I’ve seen it in a dream.  It was just like this!  I saw it in a dream.  It was just like this!” but most of it is dreadfully bland stuff.  I shudder to think of how much more of it I’d have had to sit through had the film ever been finished . . .

Unbearable as the film can frequently be, the DVD of it released by its creators under the Winterbeast Entertainment Group label is pretty sweet.  The film is here in an okay video transfer that presents with some encoding issues (blocking and the like) from time to time, but is plenty good enough for the title in question.  What makes the package worthwhile are the supplements, which are far easier to recommend than Winterbeast itself.  A 20 minute “Making Of” with the producer and director offers up plenty of production info as well as frequent jabs at the quality of the (un)finished product, more of which is to be had in the commentary track that accompanies the film.  A brief audio piece with composer Michael Perilstein turns into a hilarious ad for an upcoming CD release of the film’s score, while an extra titled “Soap Opera” offers a short, alternate cut of the film constructed from unused footage shot on video by a briefly hired television crew.  It’s good stuff all around, and more consistently entertaining than the film it accompanies.

I suppose the lesson of Winterbeast is not to count your ancient demons before they’ve hatched from a forest ranger’s chest . . . or something.  I’ve seen it three times now and I’m not sure I’ve gained anything from the experience, other than a handful of laughs and an inordinate amount of confusion.  The official Winterbeast site touts the film as “The Ultimate B-Movie”.  I can’t agree with that particular assessment, but its weirdness is hard to deny.  Recommended to those fond of tormenting their family and friends or cinephiles who have seen absolutely everything else the film world has to offer.  Others proceed at their own peril.

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Mega Piranha

April 12th, 2010 | article by | No Comments »
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rating:
company:
The Asylum
year: 2010
runtime: 90′
country: United States
director: Eric Forsberg
cast: Tiffany, Paul Logan,
Barry Williams, David Labiosa,
Jude Gerard Priest, Jesse Daly
writer: Eric Forsberg
cinematographer: Bryan Olinger
music: Chris Rhidenhour
and Tiffany (song, “Frozen Skies”)
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Writer / director Eric Forsberg gets his just deserves.

It should come as no surprise to learn that I have little respect for The Asylum or their endless line-up of ‘mockbuster’ releases.  Their partnership with the recently rechristened Syfy Channel has turned their relentless onslaught of thanklessly derivative trend-leeching SOV films into something of a cultural phenomena, regardless of how backwards their production ethic may be.  I’ve endured more than my fair share of their syndicated catalog on lazy Saturday afternoons, most of which have left me feeling as though I were suffering a slow death from boredom and carbon monoxide poisoning.  Needless to say, I don’t look forward to new The Asylum releases.  Ever.

Apparently even The Asylum still has a few surprises left up its sleeve.  It is with no small amount of humiliation that I must confess that I was not only entertained by, but genuinely enjoyed their latest ode to the creature features of old, the unimaginatively titled Mega Piranha (coming after the likes of of Mega Snake, Megafault and Mega Shark vs. Giant Octopus), which had its television premiere this past Saturday and is slated for DVD release on the 27th.

Mega Piranha is coolly calculated to tug at the heartstrings of bad movie aficionados far and wide.  Not only do we get a bona fide creature feature starring ludicrously massive every day animals brought to life through a blend of generally dreadful CGI and far dreadful-er rubber props, but a twitchy Bruckheimer / Bay over-production aesthetic and a cast headlined with name talent of yesteryear.  Everyone should have a chuckle at the inclusion of Barry Williams, better known as Greg Brady of the famous Bunch, but the real draw is undoubtedly Tiffany, the second ’80s teen-pop icon turned Playboy centerfold to star in a The Asylum effort about giant fish in the past year (Debbie Gibson beat her to that dubious honor with 2009′s unforgivable Mega Shark vs. Giant Octopus).  If that’s not reason enough to give Mega Piranha a chance, I don’t know what is.

The story, such as there is one, brings together the small staff of a secret United Nations research lab (run by Doctor Tiffany), Special Ops man Jason Fitch (Paul Logan, of Curse of the Komodo, Komodo vs. Cobra and Megafault fame), and a nutso Venuzuelan general by the name of Diaz (David Labiosa) in an effort to stop an “especially bloodthirsty, grotesquely large strain” of genetically-engineered piranha before they nibble their way to the Florida coast.  Doctor Tiffany and her two dopey scientist cohorts do silly science stuff (rushing headlong into danger to take water samples of questionable importance) while Fitch does bad-ass Special Ops moves (knife fight!) against hordes of CGI fish.  Diaz is on board as the requisite baddy, destined for a gruesome and potentially ironic fate from the start, and Barry Williams’s Secretary Grady stays out of the way, watching everything unfold from what is frequently identified as a ‘super bunker’.

The human cast is as patently unimportant as one should expect for something named Mega Piranha. Writer / director Eric Forsberg (writer, Snakes on a Train) keeps the drama more interesting than it need have been while frequently riffing on blockbuster actioners like Bad Boys.  Aiding things considerably is swift pacing, something far too many of these SOV crap-fests are lacking.  The cast is forever running from one ludicrous monster encounter to another, which is precisely how these things should be.  The human element is never going to make an un-movie like Mega Piranha and there are more than enough dramatic flubs to go around here, but its entertaining enough all in all to keep it from hampering the picture while the fish are off screen.  That’s more than I can say for any of the other SyFy slot filler I’ve seen lately.

The real stars of the show are the piranha, an absurdly formidable bunch that doubles in size every 36 hours.  What begins as homage to Joe Dante’s inimitable horror / comedy Piranha (a 3D remake of which is due out later this year), with skinny dippers and river pedestrians torn bloodily asunder, quickly bee-lines into Bert I. Gordon territory.  Technology may have come a long way since Bert’s day, but the sight of the CGI piranha leaping into pre-filmed cityscapes is no more effective than his traveling matte grasshoppers.  With Mega Piranha the effects are definitely of the quantity over quality variety, which suits me just fine.

Where Mega Shark vs. Giant Octopus falters Mega Piranha delivers, with enough scenes of fishy destruction to keep even a curmudgeonly reviewer like me entertained.  Repetition of shots is thankfully minimal, and variety is the order of the day.  Small fish tackle swimmers and the occasional wayward soldier while their larger brethren down helicopters, sink Destroyers, and take suicidal nosedives into ocean front property.  The visual effects crew was obviously having fun here and some of their work is surprisingly decent, though most is of the traditionally abysmal quality that The Asylum fans are hankering for.  Where else are you ever going to see a Very pistol decapitation followed directly by a house-sized fish eating a helicopter?

So there you have it – I enjoyed a The Asylum flick.  Congrats to the company for that, as well as for the certifiably awesome artwork they comissioned for the picture.  I can’t see myself paying retail for the DVD (why pay when you can see it on TV every other month or more?), but I’d love a print of that poster to display.  Those familiar with The Asylum or Syfy originals in general will know exactly what to expect from Mega Piranha, but I suspect this one might be just decent enough to have wider appeal.  Pain me as typing the next four words does, I say see it.

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Creating Rem Lezar

January 13th, 2010 | article by | No Comments »
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company: Rem Lezar Corporation
and Valley Studios
year: 1989
runtime: 48′
country: United States
director: Scott Zakarin
cast: Jack Mulcahy, Courtney Kernaghan,
Jonathan Goch, Kathleen Gati,
Scott Zakarin, Stuart H. Bruck
cinematography: Richard E. Brooks
music: Mark Mule
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(VHS is OOP, only available used.
No DVD is currently available)

Plot: Two lazy and under-achieving children create an imaginary super-friend named Rem Lezar out of mannequin parts and go on a quest to find the magical Quixotic Medallion.

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I generally try not to curse unnecessarily in my reviews here (regardless of the acronym from which this site takes its name), but certain situations call for it.  In fact, some seem to crawl on their hands and knees to my review chair and positively beg for it.  This is certainly one of those moments.  So pardon my language, but what is this shit?  It’s like the worst conceivable elements of the late eighties, sans step aerobics and puffy neon headbands, snuck onto a T-60 video cassette tape and died.  I feel a little like an unfortunate archaeologist who’s stumbled upon a sad bit of history that, honestly, would have been better left buried.

Such is the pain of Creating Rem Lezar, which is probably the single worst independently produced straight-to-video musical superhero film for children ever devised by man.  Probably.  If it isn’t then please spare me the details, as I really don’t want to know.

The affair seems to be the boozy brain child of one Scott Zakarin, who is credited as writer, director, producer, editor, and choreographer. He also plays the villain of the piece, a giant floating shape-shifting disembodied head named Vorock who has hidden away the all important Quixotic Medallion somewhere very high.  Hunting for said medallion are the lazy and annoying co-ed pair Ashlee and Zack and their newly manufactured dream-time playmate Rem Lezar (Jack Mulcahy), a creepy meat-head in a blue suit and a cape with gold sneakers and an aggravating preponderance for impromptu song and dance.  The children and their unnerving companion (I’m sure Sid Davis must have warned about him somewhere . . .) must find the Quixotic Medallion, lest Rem fade into oblivion come sunset and Vorock become the ruler of dream time.

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The trio’s journey takes them everywhere from downtown Manhatten to the nearby woods and . . . well, I guess that’s about it.  The quest for the Quixotic Medallion is pretty brief, though agonizingly prolonged by a jaw-dropping multi-style hip-hop / doo-wop / classical song and dance number, and I doubt I’m ruining anyone’s lunch in revealing that it’s never found.  Instead the children convince Vorock that they want to be his friend, so he does what any sane person would if approached in friendship by these two children – he leaves.

Rem Lezar disappears and the children awake to discover that, surprise surprise, it was all a dream.  A policeman (also Mulcahy) finds them in a shed with their rather frightening Rem Lezar doll and takes them home, where both (previously lambasted for their constant daydreaming in school) promise to become productive little members of society.  Did I mention that each is suddenly graced with a gigantic cardboard Quixotic Medallion necklace?  Trust me when I say it doesn’t matter.

Short as it may be (I can’t imagine this at feature length), Creating Rem Lezar makes for a pretty greuling viewing experience.  If the public access production values (including magical floating clip art) and frequent unbearable musical numbers aren’t enough to keep you away then there’s always the uncomfortable edge that a full grown man serenading two elementary school kids about their fantasies provides.  This is just terrible, boring, moderately creepy crap – and it’s currently selling for $43 used at Amazon.com!  It’s also up in pieces on Youtube.  I’ll give you half a guess as to which option this reviewer settled for.

Those hoping for something fun and family friendly should really look elsewhere, as Creating Rem Lezar is less a diamond in the rough than a huge dog turd on your freshly mowed lawn.  It’s not a pleasant experience to say the least.  Keep your distance.

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