| T O P I C R E V I E W |
| Joe Blevins |
Posted - 07/22/2009 : 03:57:24
"The thrill is gone, and the chill is on." - BIG JOE TURNER ("The Chill is On")
Not so fast, Mr. Turner. As far as this project is concerned, the thrill is on, and the chill is gone. We've already been through some chilling classics from Mill Creek Entertainment, but now it's time to explore a DVD set entitled After Dark Thrillers: 8 Movie Collection from the good folks at Crown International Pictures.
While the previous set cost me only $8 for 50 films, this particular set was a relatively pricey $10 for only 8 films. These distinctions are important when you're buying cinema in bulk. Layout-wise, these sets are very much alike: double-sided DVDs with two movies per side and no extras whatsoever. So what does the extra money get you? Well, the menus for After Dark Thrillers are a little bit fancier than those for 50 Chilling Classics, and I'm hoping the transfers will be a little better. We'll see. Anyway, here's the first movie:
1. Click: The Calendar Girl Killer (IMDb rating 2.2)
It's difficult to judge the quality of the transfer here, because Click: TCGK is pure straight-to-video sludge from 1990 and has that blurry, occasionally grainy look common to low-budget horror flicks of that era. It's presented 1.33:1 and looks passable, but not outstanding. My heart kind of broke during the film's first night scene when I realized that Click's darker, more shadowy sequences were going to have that same "speckled" look I'd seen so often during the previous project. The film's soundtrack was mostly clear, but again had a kind of muddy quality that I attributed mostly to the film itself and not the DVD. So we're not in the lap of luxury quite yet. Maybe this is as good as Click: TCGK is going to look and sound.
Movie veteran Ross Hagen stars in this one, as well as serving as co-director and co-writer. I know Hagen well from two 1960s motorcycle films, The Hellcats and The Sidehackers, both of which were memorably used on MST3K during its second season. (Please do read my short plays about them here and here.) In those films, Hagen was a leathery tough guy with a raspy voice and macho-yet-sensitive personality. It took me a few seconds to recognize him in Click because in the intervening decades he seems to have curiously shrunk -- all except his hair and his eyebrows. Hagen leaves behind his "strutting hero" persona to play Jack, an egomaniacal pin-up phtographer with a creepy fetish for weapons. Troy Donahue (not far away from doing Cry-Baby for John Waters) sort of co-stars as Jack's unwholesome accomplice/assistant, Alan. I say "sort of co-stars" because even though Donahue is prominently billed -- and even snags top billing in the closing credits -- the movie frequently forgets about his character, and he's absent for long periods of screen time.
In many ways, Click: TCGK encapsulates much of what was bad about the 1980s. The worst of the era's music, clothing, and hairstyles are on display here. There's a very seedy, desperate vibe to this picture that made me feel sorry for its cast members -- mainly big-haired bimbos and oily hunks -- who probably came to Hollywood with big dreams, only to wind up as victims in a cheap sexploitation slasher. I hope some of them came to their senses and went back to school and got nice, reliable office jobs somewhere. The film itself rips off elements from Halloween, Dressed to Kill, Peeping Tom and especially Psycho, which I'm now convinced must be one of filmdom's most-imitated pictures. The movie even drags in a private detective who serves the same basic function -- and meets the same fate -- as Martin Balsam's Arbogast. In Click, the transvestite killer attacks a woman in a bathtub rather than a shower. Does that count as originality?
Oh, there's some fun to be had here. There is some very obvious and unconvincing yet entertaining stunt work -- explosions, crashes, fistfights, etc. The killer is a cross-dresser who dons a nurse's uniform and a really bad wig and runs around spouting hysterical nonsense, some of which rhymes. And the finale -- oh, that finale! -- is so remarkably tasteless and blasphemous that I'm almost tempted to tell you to rent Click: TCGK and skip to the last 15 minutes. But the first hour of this film drags horribly (no pun intended), and I mostly felt embarrassed on behalf of the cast and crew, especially Hagen who is robbed of whatever dignity he may once have had.
In a word: blecch. |
| 15 L A T E S T R E P L I E S (Newest First) |
| Joe Blevins |
Posted - 08/23/2009 : 06:55:19
And that about does 'er for After Dark Thrillers: 8 Movie Collection. It took me a month to get through these eight films because, frankly, they were not terribly compelling except as cinematic footnotes. The last one, Separate Ways, was not even a thriller. It was a pretty straightforward drama. In some ways, though, it did remind me of 50 Chilling Classics because the transfer on it was muddy and washed-out. Separate Ways was actually shot by legendary cinematographer Dean Cundey, but you'd never know it because the transfer is so crummy. Maybe not Chilling Classics crummy, but not nearly as good as some of the other films in this set.
A word about Sybil Danning: I believe it's her picture that's on the bizarre cover of this set. (In case you can't tell, the blonde dominatrix lady is being strangled with a strip of blood-red celluloid.) You can't see it in that picture, but there's a line of text at the very top of the picture which reads:
FEATURING: KAREN BLACK, SYBIL DANNING AND BRUCE DAVISON
This is two-thirds true. Karen Black is all over Separate Ways. She's in at least three-fourths of the scenes, and even spends some of the movie dressed as a fox -- with ears and a tail and everything. (You don't want to know.) And Bruce Davison plays a pretty prominent dual role in French Quarter. But Sybil Danning fans -- if there are any out there -- will be sorely disappointed if they purchase this set. Like Black, Danning is also in Separate Ways, but in a role so minor she is not even among the featured actors listed in the opening credits. In the film, Tony Lo Bianco owns a failing car dealership, and Danning is one of his salespeople. Both Lo Bianco and Karen Black make leering remarks about Danning's chest, but that's about the extent of it.
I don't think I'll give out any awards this time, because there's not much to award here. I guess Double Exposure is the best of these eight films, but only because its competition includes such feeble flicks as Night Club and Blue Money, both of which can go straight to hell as far as I'm concerned. Click is actually a little too pathetic to recommend as a guilty pleasure, and the remaining four films fall into the dreaded "neither good nor bad" category.
So congrats, Double Exposure! You win by default. (As Homer Simpson once said, "Default -- the two sweetest words in the English language.")
|
| Joe Blevins |
Posted - 08/22/2009 : 22:05:17
And the 8 Thrillers project finally, finally concludes:
8. Separate Ways (IMDb rating 5.5)
Or: Scenes From a B-Movie Marriage.
It seems inconceivable now, but in the 1970s and 1980s there was apparently a market for movies about marital turmoil. For lack of a better term, let's call it divorce-ploitation: Kramer Vs. Kramer, An Unmarried Woman, Ordinary People, stuff like that. National Lampoon Goes to the Movies even satirized the subgenre with a segment called "Growing Yourself" in which Peter Riegert copes with one of these wacky modern divorces. Like the rest of that unfortunate Lampoon film, "Growing Yourself" is not terribly funny or well-done, but it does get some of the details right -- such as having a sappy "sensitive" theme song (in this case done by Don McLean). Nowadays, domestic drama has mostly moved back to television, but for a while there it played on the big screen, too.
Separate Ways is divorce-ploitation done on the cheap -- well, not exactly divorce in this case. It's more like separation-ploitation. (Take another gander at the title.) TONY LO BIANCO and KAREN BLACK play the squabbling married couple this time around, and it's the combination of those two cult movie stars that got me interested in this flick. Separate Ways, in fact, is the reason I bought After Dark Thrillers in the first place. Tony Lo Bianco is a marvelous character actor who gives an indelible performance as a sleazy con-artist-turned-murderer in The Honeymoon Killers. And Karen Black? Well, this article sort of summarizes her mysterious appeal. Everything about her seems just on the verge of campiness: her pouty lips, her slightly cross-eyed expression, her big hair, and her breathy line-readings. I had hoped the unlikely combination of Black and Lo Bianco would result in a movie that was at least interesting, if not necessarily good.
Unfortunately, Separate Ways feels by-the-numbers and flavorless. Lo Bianco's an alternately controlling and neglectful husband. Black is an unfulfilled housewife. They bicker. He has an affair. They argue. She has an affair. They squabble. Lots of drinks are downed, and a perfectly good cake is destroyed. Of course, they have a child together -- one of those sickly-sweet, only-in-the-movies kids with the obligatory bowl haircut. (Luckily, the kid is forever being packed off to visit with friends or relatives so he doesn't disrupt the plot too much.) Familiar actors like William Windom and David Naughton help anchor various subplots. Between arguments, our two frazzled marrieds spend some time pondering their miserable condition while the standard syrupy music plays. The main theme of the movie is that dreaded bugaboo, the Breakdown of Communication. While watching Separate Ways, I was constantly reminded of this quote from comedian Tom Lehrer:
"Speaking of love, one problem that recurs more and more frequently these days, in books and plays and movies, is the inability of people to communicate with the people they love: husbands and wives who can't communicate, children who can't communicate with their parents, and so on. And the characters in these books and plays and so on, and in real life, I might add, spend hours bemoaning the fact that they can't communicate. I feel that if a person can't communicate, the very least he can do is to shut up."
Well said, Tom.
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| Joe Blevins |
Posted - 08/18/2009 : 00:24:56
quote:
Originally posted by lemmycaution
We need to coin a new word: duggish! Er, on second thought, that would refer to Russ Meyer flics.
Slull, maybe?
I've been consciously trying to avoid using the "b" word (boring), because that's too common a complaint among filmgoers who are impatient with anything less than a thrill-packed action movie. I fully understand and appreciate the fact that a movie from the 1970s is not going to be paced like a movie from the 2000s. Look, it's fine for movies to slow down and take their time, but you really have to earn the right to do so. Some ways to earn that right: interesting characters, an involving plot, a well-written script with riveting dialogue, etc. (The After Dark Thrillers have been noticeably short on these qualities.)
I suppose one other possibly-justifiable reason to slow down is to give the audience a chance to drink in all the sumptuous visuals, but this can be a trap. The director of Pick-Up was also the film's cinematographer, and he's clearly proud of all the nice location footage he shot in the Florida wetlands. And that footage is actually pretty nice, something I neglected to mention in my review. BUT HE INCLUDES ALL OF IT! Seriously, pal, one shot of flamingos would have been plenty to establish that there are, in fact, flamingos nearby! We get it! Move on! |
| lemmycaution |
Posted - 08/17/2009 : 04:01:50
We need to coin a new word: duggish! Er, on second thought, that would refer to Russ Meyer flics. |
| Joe Blevins |
Posted - 08/17/2009 : 01:34:22
In case you were wondering whether this set is worth picking up, let me quote from a few of the previous reviews. Here are some excerpts, presented in the style of those hyperbolic movie ads which take critical quotes out of context:
"Drags horribly!"
(Click)
"Sluggish! At least half an hour too long!"
(French Quarter)
"Lengthy! Plotless! You don't wanna watch it!"
(Night Club)
"Adequate! Bland!"
(Hot Target)
"Flat! Sluggish and repetitive!"
(Double Exposure)
"A vanity project! Dull! Long, uneventful!"
(Blue Money)
"Slow paced and kind of dull!"
(Pick-Up)
When you peruse that list, you'll understand why it's taken me nearly as long to review 8 thrillers as it did to review 50 chillers. It's a bad sign that I've had to reuse adjectives like "sluggish" and "dull." |
| Joe Blevins |
Posted - 08/16/2009 : 23:30:59
7. Pick-Up (IMDb rating 5.0)
Normally, it's no great feat to have amassed a mere 262 votes on the Internet Movie Database. A recent movie like G-Force, for instance, has already gotten 2,338 votes and was only released last month. But in the shadowy netherworld of After Dark Thrillers: 8 Movie Collection, it's a badge of honor to have a vote total in the triple digits. It means that at least somebody has seen the darned thing outside of the cast and crew and their relatives. In this respect, Pick-Up easily leads the After Dark pledge class, probably by virtue of having been included in several DVD boxed sets from Crown International. It was even sort of reviewed by The Onion.
The movie itself is very much of its era (1975) and is only intermittently interesting. An extremely lucky young man is transporting a fancy, tricked-out bus through the backroads of Florida when he decides to pick up a couple of attractive female hitchhikers. One of the young ladies is sort of bubbly and free-spirited, while the other is more serious and slightly sinister with an interest in the occult, i.e. Tarot cards, zodiac signs, etc. Anyway, our driver takes a detour and winds up lost in the Florida swamps, and this is where the plot essentially breaks down into softcore psychedelia, including plenty of weirdly staged fantasies and flashbacks. The three main cast members -- none of them terribly bright -- spend the remainder of the movie in that swamp, either in or near the bus. The driver and the bubbly girl spend lots of screentime romping nude through the swampland, apparently unconcerned with such inconveniences as mosquito bites, while the occult girl mainly stays in the bus having dream sequences in which she is seduced by a priest, courted by a vote-grubbing politician, terrorized by a clown, etc. (The politician scene is actually kind of funny in a Laugh-In kind of way.) There's also some kind of sacrificial altar out in the swamps, but I couldn't tell whether it was suppposed to be real or just a figment of the occult girl's imagination. That's the kind of movie Pick-Up is. It's basically plotless sexploitation mixed with youthsploitation, peppered with a lot of corny 1970s slang and a few random weird touches like a radio announcer whose voice seems to be an imitation of Howard Cosell. Think Waiting for Godot plus Three's Company times a Russ Meyer movie divided by an acid trip, only slow paced and kind of dull.
Ludwig Van Beethoven was the composer of Night Club's immortal theme music a few movies back, and now it's J.S. Bach's turn. His famous "smash hit" cantata, Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring is an important musical motif in Pick-Up. These guys really need to talk to their agents!
P.S. - Despite what this movie tells you, it is not a good idea to kiss a raccoon full on the lips.
|
| Joe Blevins |
Posted - 08/14/2009 : 03:33:45
Things like that never happen where I work. I must've taken the wrong path in life.
Seriously, awesome Sally Kirkland anecdote. Thanks for sharing, BB. 
Only two movies left to go. I hope to have 8 Thrillers done this weekend. The main event -- Separate Ways with Karen Black and Tony Lo Bianco -- is looming on the horizon. |
| BaftaBaby |
Posted - 08/13/2009 : 10:29:45
quote:
Originally posted by Joe Blevins
I'd love to hear the Fred Forrest story, if you'd be so kind as to tell it.
Okey-dokey!
Well, Sally was well-known for her alacrity at stripping off, whether the part required it or not. When she joined the LaMaMa Troupe we still did a workshop every day, continually reinforcing the trust/bond among us so we had an extraordinary sense of unity on stage. Part of the day consisted of various physical exercises, and we noticed that Sally would drop items of clothing along the way.
One day, a small group of us were chilling out in the rehearsal area. I don't know why Sally wasn't there. All of a sudden, Freddy jumped up and started tugging at the shoulder of his t-shirt.
"I can't" he said.
Then he tugged at the hem.
"I just can't."
Finally he pulled the shirt over his head and yelled in a falsetto:
"I just can't ACT with all these clothes on!"
We all just collapsed in a heap of laughter.
Maybe you had to be there 
|
| Joe Blevins |
Posted - 08/13/2009 : 01:22:42
quote:
Originally posted by BaftaBabe
I now think of you as Blevins, Film Martyr.  
Enervating movies like Blue Money certainly make me feel that way. The reason this review was delayed by several days is that I actually had to watch this movie -- which is not long at all (my copy ran a mere 80 minutes) -- in stages. With the 50 Chilling Classics, I viewed each movie straight through, with the exception of George Hamilton's Greek crime epic Medusa (2009 Chilly Award winner for Most Boring Picture), which I also had to parcel out over several viewing sessions. I don't know whether Medusa or Blue Money ever got much play in theaters, but if they did, it's a cinch the concession stands did a great business because viewers probably guessed they could go for a quick "snack run" and not miss anything.
quote:
Just wanted to make sure everyone knows there were two Blue Moneys. This one, and the one I'm in - with Tim Curry, Billy Connolly, et al - which is detailed here!
I vaguely remember that other Blue Money. I went through a near-rabid Rocky Horror phase about 10-15 years ago (hence this) and especially tried to see everything Tim Curry was ever in. I'm sure I came across Blue Money in my travels. By the way, I seem to remember Pass the Ammo as being pretty good and Times Square being fairly rotten. Is my memory playing tricks?
quote:
Re: Double Exposure/Sally Kirkland ... she's always been a strange one. Her mom at one point was fashion editor at Vogue, and she did have enough talent/chutzpah to get into the Actors Studio. But, despite an Oscar nom, her career never took off the way she'd have wanted. Sadly, she could never discern the value of any piece of work, and made decisions on messages from the beyond and other such 'reliable' directives. She prob'ly did Double Exposure because she was pals with some of the cast. I'm guessing. If you ask nicely I'll tell you the Fred Forrest story!
I'd love to hear the Fred Forrest story, if you'd be so kind as to tell it.
For what it's worth, Sally gives a fine performance in Double Exposure and seems to be having fun with her rather minor role. I wouldn't be at all surprised to learn she'd done the film strictly as a favor. The cast is much better than you'd expect for this kind of thing. I neglected to mention it at the time, but there are some highly respectable actors in French Quarter, too: Virginia Mayo and Bruce Davison (both in dual roles, no less).
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| BaftaBaby |
Posted - 08/12/2009 : 11:54:44
quote:
Originally posted by Joe Blevins
And to think I criticized Double Exposure:
6. Blue Money (IMDb rating 5.0)
First a technical note about the project: The IMDb ratings for the films represent the scores they had received as of July 13, 2009. Since then, most of the films' ratings have gone down. Blue Money is currently a 4.9.
Alain Patrick cannot act. Do you hear me? Can. Not. Act. Oh, sure, you could blame his poor performance in Blue Money on his subpar English skills (he seems to be French Canadian), but that does not explain or excuse his total failure to emote in scene after scene of this movie. The IMDb shows him racking up acting credits from 1966 to 1979, mostly in episodic television and made-for-TV movies, but I assume he got by mostly on his looks. He's got sandy-colored hair down to his broad shoulders, and apart from a Roman-Polanski-esque nose, he has that tanned and toned look of a movie star pretty boy circa 1971. If you're struggling to picture him, try imagining Joe Dallesandro minus virtually everything that makes Joe Dallesandro interesting. Alain Patrick seems like a pod person from the 1970s version of Invasion of the Body Snatchers. And he's in absolutely EVERY scene!
Blue Money has the feel of a vanity project. Patrick is the writer, director, producer and star, and there is a suspicious amount of footage of him just driving around in his Porsche convertible or hanging out on his unfinished yacht, all the while looking like the epitome of Nixon-era grooviness in his half-unbuttoned shirts and tight jeans. His character, a shallow and dim-witted pornographer, is the kind of vain, showboating cretin we'd write off as a "douchebag" today, but back in 1971 he must've seemed like an out-of-sight, together kind of cat. People did a lot of drugs back then.
You want plot? Well, on this very same forum, I once clumsily tried to define the Icarus movie. Blue Money is basically an Icarus movie on quaaludes. The first half is mostly fun (for the main character, not the audience), the second half is all consequences. Patrick plays Jim, a young director churning out product for the smut film racket, his activities forever dogged by the uncool Joe-Friday-esque authorities who spend countless man hours tailing him. Throughout the course of the movie, Jim suffers various professional and personal setbacks... and Patrick reacts to exactly none of it. When his wife walks out on him and takes the couple's daughter with her, Patrick reacts as if he'd lost his favorite comb. Actually, considering the immaculate condition of his hair, he actually might react more to losing his favorite comb. The ending of the movie is a bit of a shocker, as nothing of consquence actually happens. I couldn't believe the filmmakers chose to end their film with such a dull non-event! The film also suffers throughout from its extremely sparing use of music. The long, uneventful stretches of Blue Money might seem more "cinematic" if they'd actually been scored.
Presented in a bright and colorful anamorphic widescreen transfer, Blue Money is packed with early 1970s detail in the clothing (atrocious), home decor (abominable), and conversation (witless). I guess it gives some insight into the smut film business of that era, but if you're at all interested in that subject, please watch Boogie Nights instead.
I now think of you as Blevins, Film Martyr.
Just wanted to make sure everyone knows there were two Blue Moneys. This one, and the one I'm in - with Tim Curry, Billy Connolly, et al - which is detailed here!
Re: Double Exposure/Sally Kirkland ... she's always been a strange one. Her mom at one point was fashion editor at Vogue, and she did have enough talent/chutzpah to get into the Actors Studio. But, despite an Oscar nom, her career never took off the way she'd have wanted. Sadly, she could never discern the value of any piece of work,
and made decisions on messages from the beyond and other such 'reliable' directives. She prob'ly did Double Exposure because she was pals with some of the cast. I'm guessing. If you ask nicely I'll tell you the Fred Forrest story!
|
| Joe Blevins |
Posted - 08/12/2009 : 03:04:11
And to think I criticized Double Exposure:
6. Blue Money (IMDb rating 5.0)
First a technical note about the project: The IMDb ratings for the films represent the scores they had received as of July 13, 2009. Since then, most of the films' ratings have gone down. Blue Money is currently a 4.9.
Alain Patrick cannot act. Do you hear me? Can. Not. Act. Oh, sure, you could blame his poor performance in Blue Money on his subpar English skills (he seems to be French Canadian), but that does not explain or excuse his total failure to emote in scene after scene of this movie. The IMDb shows him racking up acting credits from 1966 to 1979, mostly in episodic television and made-for-TV movies, but I assume he got by mostly on his looks. He's got sandy-colored hair down to his broad shoulders, and apart from a Roman-Polanski-esque nose, he has that tanned and toned look of a movie star pretty boy circa 1971. If you're struggling to picture him, try imagining Joe Dallesandro minus virtually everything that makes Joe Dallesandro interesting. Alain Patrick seems like a pod person from the 1970s version of Invasion of the Body Snatchers. And he's in absolutely EVERY scene!
Blue Money has the feel of a vanity project. Patrick is the writer, director, producer and star, and there is a suspicious amount of footage of him just driving around in his Porsche convertible or hanging out on his unfinished yacht, all the while looking like the epitome of Nixon-era grooviness in his half-unbuttoned shirts and tight jeans. His character, a shallow and dim-witted pornographer, is the kind of vain, showboating cretin we'd write off as a "douchebag" today, but back in 1971 he must've seemed like an out-of-sight, together kind of cat. People did a lot of drugs back then.
You want plot? Well, on this very same forum, I once clumsily tried to define the Icarus movie. Blue Money is basically an Icarus movie on quaaludes. The first half is mostly fun (for the main character, not the audience), the second half is all consequences. Patrick plays Jim, a young director churning out product for the smut film racket, his activities forever dogged by the uncool Joe-Friday-esque authorities who spend countless man hours tailing him. Throughout the course of the movie, Jim suffers various professional and personal setbacks... and Patrick reacts to exactly none of it. When his wife walks out on him and takes the couple's daughter with her, Patrick reacts as if he'd lost his favorite comb. Actually, considering the immaculate condition of his hair, he actually might react more to losing his favorite comb. The ending of the movie is a bit of a shocker, as nothing of consquence actually happens. I couldn't believe the filmmakers chose to end their film with such a dull non-event! The film also suffers throughout from its extremely sparing use of music. The long, uneventful stretches of Blue Money might seem more "cinematic" if they'd actually been scored.
Presented in a bright and colorful anamorphic widescreen transfer, Blue Money is packed with early 1970s detail in the clothing (atrocious), home decor (abominable), and conversation (witless). I guess it gives some insight into the smut film business of that era, but if you're at all interested in that subject, please watch Boogie Nights instead.
|
| Joe Blevins |
Posted - 08/06/2009 : 04:09:55
Thanks for the kind comments! On with the project:
5. Double Exposure (IMDb rating 4.8)
Didn't we already have a movie about a loony photographer who is possibly killing his models? Yes, we did. It was called Click, and you should just put it out of your mind now. The image of a crazed, middle-aged Ross Hagen running around in nurse-drag is not something you want in your dreams.
Where to begin with a movie like Double Exposure? Well, first, if you want a movie whose cast is chock full of recognizable TV and film stars -- and randomly-assembled ones at that -- have we ever got 'em! Some on their way up, some on the way down. Cassavetes/Wes Anderson mainstay Seymour Cassel! Blazing Saddles star Cleavon Little! Irrepressible comedienne Victoria Jackson! (Doing her classic reading-poems-while-standing-on-her-head bit we remember from The Tonight Show and SNL!) Playmate of the Year for 1986 Kathy Shower! Hell, we've got two actresses (Sally Kirkland and Misty Rowe) who played Marilyn Monroe! Our three leads (Michael Callan, Joanna Pettet, James Stacy) are perhaps not as well-known, but all of them have racked up tons of movie and TV credits. The crazy, tragic, up-and-down life of James Stacy (alarmingly summarized here) might make for a good movie in and of itself. All this and an extended mud wrestling sequence!
So how is Double Exposure? Eh, I'd say the 4.8 rating is about right. With its wildly diverse cast, weird little details, and off-the-wall premise, it should be a little more exciting than it is. It feels like a second-rate De Palma knockoff that's gone flat. The somewhat sluggish and repetitive plot focuses on a pair of brothers (hence the title): one a photographer, the other a one-armed, one-legged stunt driver. Both of these macho-yet-sensitive dudes are grappling with some major emotional issues. Victims -- mostly models and hookers but occasional drunks and transvestites -- keep piling up, and our photographer friend is having some awfully nasty dreams. There are detectives on the case, natch, and there's a shrink (Cassel) who's also trying to get to the bottom of things. And since it's 1983, pretty much everyone except Cleavon Little has feathered hair.
Technically this thing is none too shabby: filmed in Panavision and generously presented here in (are you ready for this?) anamorphic widescreen! (Night Club was anamorphic widescreen, too, but it still looked crummy.) Apart from a few slightly pixelated details, Double Exposure is as good a DVD transfer as anything I've seen in either of these two projects. There is even some evidence of filmmaking skill here, including some lovely aerial shots which add little to the flick, plot-wise, but look swell all the same. What the movie lacks is a sense of urgency. There are way, way too many scenes of the photographer waking up, drenched in sweat, from a bad dream. The decision to presage all of the murders with several minutes of "scary background music" is also a suspense-killing drag. Seriously, whenever the score turns dark and ominous, you just know a murder's coming up so there's very little shock value. It seems like the director couldn't decide whether he was making a respectable thriller or a cheap, bloody shocker, so Double Exposure vacillates between being thoughtful and being exploitative.
The late, great Cleavon Little hardly needs an introduction from me, but this clip captures him at his best.
Like Cleavon Little, Misty Rowe also worked with Mel Brooks. (She was Maid Marian on When Things Were Rotten.) Her IMDb page includes some remarkably frank quotes about her career. She's pretty good here in Double Exposure -- sunny and likeable -- and I wish she'd had more screentime.
Not a complete washout by any means, but not a film I can heartily endorse. See it for the cast, if you must, and oddball details like the club which apparently employs one lonely Chippendale. Poor guy! |
| ChocolateLady |
Posted - 08/04/2009 : 07:11:27
quote:
Originally posted by lemmycaution
Joe, please don't infer a lack of interest. I love your comments and insights and I know that I am not alone. Keep thrilling us with your posts and if the right-hand driving sequences bother you, watch the film in a mirror.
I second that emotion.
(Actually, better you watch them than make me see these!)
|
| lemmycaution |
Posted - 08/04/2009 : 02:24:06
Joe, please don't infer a lack of interest. I love your comments and insights and I know that I am not alone. Keep thrilling us with your posts and if the right-hand driving sequences bother you, watch the film in a mirror. |
| Joe Blevins |
Posted - 08/03/2009 : 00:40:09
Oh, happy day! The 8 Thrillers project is back:
4. Hot Target (IMDB rating 4.7)
Hot Target sounds like the result of a merger between Target and Hot Topic, but in fact it is a Body Heat-style thriller made in New Zealand in 1985. If you're looking for movies to rip off, you could do worse than Body Heat (a movie which has held up very nicely), and if you're ripping off Body Heat, you could do much worse than Hot Target. How's that for damning with faint praise? This one is well-paced and professionally (if blandly) made, with adequate acting and writing and a dollop of sex appeal. There's simply nothing outstanding here, other than a few nice glimpses of the leading lady's anatomy.
Borrowing a page from the James M. Cain playbook, Hot Target focuses on that eternal noir triangle: a handsome guy, a gorgeous dame, and the dame's inconvenient husband -- get the idea? The guy and the dame have an affair which soon leads to... murder! Well, sort of murder. The movie treats it like murder, but it's really more of an accident. That gets to the heart of the problem with Hot Target. The guy and the dame both seem pretty bland, and the script isn't twisty or malicious enough. Even the powerful, obnoxious husband doesn't seem all that bad! There are the standard nosey detectives with their standard nosey questions, too, but they're far too namby-pamby and cautious. A movie like this should have at least a few devilish plot twists and terrible revalations, but Hot Target just doesn't have the stomach for it. By this time, movies like Blood Simple (and, um, Body Heat) were already offering ingeniously convoluted, sexed-up variations on Cain classics like The Postman Always Rings Twice and Double Indemnity. Hot Target, in comparison, seems too nice and straightforward. The only thing distinguishing this movie from the pack is the fact that the characters have NZ accents (except for the male lead, who is American) and drive on the left side of the road.
Actually, that last part -- driving on the left -- made it a little tricky for me to follow some of the car chase scenes. Other than that, Hot Target does not capitalize on its New Zealand setting nearly as much as Bad Taste did. Sure, there are lots of nice outdoor scenes throughout Hot Target -- parks, cricket fields, racetracks -- but none of the breathtaking scenery and quirky local humor of the Peter Jackson film. This one might as well have been made in Los Angeles. |
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