By the time 1972 rolled in, Charles Bronson was already 51-years-old and had been making moving pictures for 21 years. And yet, it wasn't until Charles Bronson made a splash in Sergio Leone's 1968 epic Once Upon a Time in the West that he finally became a truly "bankable" name in the US. Here, in the dusty wake of his westerns shot in Spain, Bronson finally made his "official" domestic starring role debut in a western ‒ shot in Spain ‒ which took perhaps just a tad bit of inspiration from his Italian cinema phase. Cast as a half-Apache character
Recently by Luigi Bastardo
Charles Bronson is turned loose for the first time in a marvelously bleak western now available from Twilight Time.
Severin Films presents a spectacular two-disc, two-movie version of one of 42nd Street's most legendarily notorious offerings.
If you were one of the lucky lads or lasses who "matured" amid the days of VHS rental outlets, you know how exciting it could be to hunt for something truly extraordinary on the shelves of your local mom and pop store. Sure, the big time stores carried their own fair share of fun flicks, but those corporate suits almost always folded when it came to stocking their boutiques with more controversial filmic offerings. And when it came to being controversial, there was perhaps no greater ground to cover than that which was located in the horror section. Why, even
Five films from both film and real life history alike make their High-Definition debuts.
From the rise and fall of great lands to the genesis of new ones, and a few odd points in-between, Twilight Time has all bases of great storytelling covered in this assortment of features from their March 2016 lineup. Here, we pay our respects to filmic adaptations of true historical accounts of the lives (and sometimes deaths) of the grandiose, the humble, and the downright dangerous. We being in a time and place far removed from contemporary society (though the political situation hasn't changed all that much, when you think about it), with a tale of some minor footnote of
Ever wonder what might have happened had James Bond been born an American and started out in World War II? The Warner Archive Collection may have the answer.
The late great production designer Ken Adam left behind a legacy which no mere mortal could ever live up to. The immaculate lairs he designed and constructed for Stanley Kubrick's Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb as well as several monumentally iconic James Bond movies ‒ whether they were in outer space, underwater, or inside of a dormant volcano ‒ have since gone on to astonish and inspire, with plenty of room left over for parody to boot. But shortly before the German-born award winner started designing his first 007 set on Dr.
The Warner Archive Collection uncovers a fun little flick about reeling in one big Commie plot.
There are many ways a film can become outdated. Our increasingly advancing world of technological wonders has made countless science fiction films archaic. Obsessions with keeping fit have resulted in reanimated individuals with rigor mortis able to run in zombie movies. Shifting political and economic winds have turned allies into enemies in stories of war. But of all the things which date a motion picture, none has the ability to alienate quite as much as employing a current trend or popular saying in a feature. Mullets may have been "in" at one fashionably challenged point in time (see: hipsters) ‒
Samuel Goldwyn's one and only film noir is also the bleakest irreligious religious movies in history.
Prolific filmmaker Samuel Goldwyn left this world in 1974 to start issuing malapropisms in the world beyond, he had personally produced no less than 139 films, to say nothing of the motion pictures he had distributed, presented, or even lent his assistance to for other filmmakers around the world. And yet, with titles such as Wuthering Heights, The Best Years of Our Lives, and These Three under his belt, Mr. Goldwyn only ever made one film noir. And just like many of his other successes, the seldom-seen 1950 noir Edge of Doom, has the distinction of being one of the
The Warner Archive Collection outs Lillian Hellman's first filmic adaptation of a once-controversial play.
Even before the Hays Office began enforcing the content of motion pictures in 1934, certain things just weren't permitted to be said aloud in public. One such topic was that of homosexuality (the more things change, the more they stay the same, eh?), which was completely illegal to mention in public when playwright/screenwriter/activist Lillian Hellman's play The Children's Hour first debuted on Broadway in 1934. Due to the critical success of the stageplay, however, local authorities in New York City decided to be lax regarding their own law (again, some things never really change, do they?). Alas, the story's subject
Two forgotten mysteries, each with their own dark histories, get definitive makeovers in these must-have releases from Flicker Alley.
There is nothing quite so overwhelming as being utterly unable to control one's situation. Despite all of our best efforts, we remain powerless to stop the unseen forces of time and fate. All over the planet, archaeologists have discovered the remains of vast cities and civilizations which have either been buried away by the sands of time or destroyed by cruel acts of fate. For those of us who like to refer to ourselves as film buffs, similar disasters and overall bad bits of luck have obscured many a motion picture. And while the ultimate uncovering of a previously lost
The oft-ignored sequel from one of cinema's lesser-explored trilogies gets a High-Definition makeover.
In 1970, a simple tale of A Man Called Horse galloped its way onto the silver screen to shock audiences across near and far. With the Hays Production Code demolished and the MPAA now in full effect, filmmakers were at last able to make sprawling western adventure epics replete with gore and nudity. Because, well, after all, that's what made the Wild West so darn wild. Alas, Sam Peckinpah's The Wild Bunch had beaten the film to the screen (and fared much better at the box office), so copious amounts of violence (by the standards of the time) weren't entirely
What do two film noirs, three westerns, one failed Charlton Heston adventure epic, and one of the worst giallo movies have in common? They've all seen the light of Blu-ray.
A timeless, tiresome proverb tells us it is darkest before the dawn, and we have all surely met that one idiot who is always more than happy to impose some form of such an idiom upon you whenever things aren't looking overly bright for you. Fortunately, there is no lack of lighting in this sextet of moving picture offerings from Twilight Time. In the instance of the two film noir titles included in this lot ‒ Where the Sidewalk Ends (1950) and a re-issue of The Big Heat (1953) ‒ the lighting is always perfect. When we're in the great
Confucius say: 'Last of previously unreleased titles from franchise finally find way to disc. Hell, yes.'
It's usually easy to say exactly where a film franchise begins. Universal Studios' Jaws (1975) movies officially started with Steven Spielberg's Jaws (though we can see early traces of the film's formula on display in Spielberg's Duel) and came to a hilariously anticlimactic conclusion in Jaws: The Revenge (1987). However, numerous foreign-made "sequels" and outright ripoffs have managed to confuse people who evidently find it difficult to differentiate the real deal from a school of blue fish. In the case of another film franchise ‒ that of the Charlie Chan legacy ‒ it truly is difficult to pinpoint what began
An infinite number of stars. Six movies. Positively no refunds.
Whether you attended only one week of high school or an entire day in the food and beverage industry, you're more than highly likely to be aware of something called "drama." Generally, it's a toxic element of life, which many of us tend to ignore (or at least pretend to when you really, matter-of-factly thrive on it). But when it comes to the moving pictures, the drama has a tendency to be much more fulfilling. Not because it's healthier (though technically, it is, since we don't actually have to live it), but because there's a darn fine chance it has
Arrow Video places two more (partly) forgotten gialli on the map in a box set that some folks will kill for.
Following in on the high, blood-stained heels of their previously-released gialli box set, Death Walks Twice: Two Films by Luciano Ercoli, Arrow Video has once again assembled a mini ensemble to two dissimilarly similar titles from a somewhat forgotten Italian genre filmmaker. This time, we are allotted the opportunity to discern (and maybe even dissect) two unique thrillers from the realm of movies fueled by sex, violence, funky fashions, even funkier music, and J&B Scotch aplenty, both of which were helmed and brought to fruition by one Emilio P. Miraglia. Much like Ercoli ‒ whose films were made and distributed
Arrow Video brings us the ultimate release of the Roger Corman horror film best known for its bizarre and convoluted production history.
Within the grand scope of filmmaking, there is perhaps no greater force than that of editing. If you take a peek at some of the deleted and alternate scenes from George Lucas' original Star Wars, you may bear witness to some truly dreadful moments which were, thankfully, excised during a frantic last minute editing session ‒ as overseen by people other than Mr. Lucas himself. You see, sometimes even the main driving force behind a feature really doesn't know what to keep and what to snip out. On the flip side of the coin, there have been more than a
From one of Lucille Ball's first big roles, to one of John Carradine's last, this assortment of odds and ends from the Warner Archive Collection has it all.
Since its humble inception at the beginning of 2009, the Warner Archive Collection has been paying its respects to many hard-to-find motion pictures which would be otherwise unavailable to classic movie buffs everywhere. And, much to the delight of the aforementioned grouping of folks who have had more than their fair share of ultra-sleek CGI-laden popcorn movies we pay a questionable lump of dough to see once in a theater packed full of people who still have yet to learn the fine art of cinema etiquette (seriously, turn your phones off, kids!), the WAC ‒ as it is so lovingly
Arrow Video brings us John Milius' directorial debut, featuring eager performances by Warren Oates, Ben Johnson, Harry Dean Stanton, and Richard Dreyfuss.
Never one to take a backseat to a popular genre, the always active brains behind the once prolific American International Pictures ‒ Samuel Z. Arkoff and James H. Nicholson ‒ instantly knew a moneymaker when they saw (or thought of) it. Even after Arkoff's production partner left to form his own company in 1972, only to unexpectedly leave this world from a brain tumor a few months later, Sam Arkoff continued to switch on that proverbial green light to many a low budget offering from seasoned industry professionals and total wannabes alike. And it was in July of 1973 that
Larry Cohen's comical, horrifying look at rampant commercialism, American gluttony, and corporate greed gets another chance to creep around thanks to Arrow Video.
As a screenplay artist, Larry Cohen has many a unique offering under his literary belt. The New York-born auteur first started writing mysteries for television when he was only in his early twenties, and his god (told me to) given knack for penning thrillers soon found him cranking out teleplays for cult airwave favorites such as Branded, The Invaders, and Columbo during the '60s and '70s. Then, during the early '70s, Mr. Cohen was permitted to expand his filmmaking résumé with a directorial debut in the realm of a present subgenre phenomenon: blaxploitation movies. As a result, Larry was also
From deadly strolls about in High Heels to casual executions committed at Midnight, this two-fer from Arrow Video USA is sure to make a killing among fans of classic Italian thrillers.
Though born in the early '60s, only a few short years before various forms of psychedelic and sexual revolutions began to spin a seemingly stuck planet in circles far too fast for even God to fathom, the giallo film truly started to roll about freely once the 1970s came to pass. The titles were unabashedly long and lurid; the storylines both baffling and beguiling; the murders downright bloody, yet immeasurably inventive. These were the thrillers ripped straight from Italy's sleazy pulp fiction crime novels boasting distinctive yellow (or, "giallo," if you will) jackets which kept moviegoing audiences glued to their
A quintet of moving pictures that are guaranteed to hear your prayers (or at least be your friends when you're feeling unknown and all alone).
Everyone strives for a little more room to breathe in this world. Some seek solace far away from others on islands previously unexplored by man. Others, beget into dystopian lies, defy omnipresent eyes around them in order to discover the truth. Still more are simply born with their own freedom, albeit one that is easily taken away with the mere flick of a trigger. To further illustrate this endeavor, I submit to you this collection of Twilight Time offerings (initially released in December of 2015), which take us into all of the aforementioned mysteries of personal freedoms ‒ and then
There can be only one. But is this much-anticipated (and greatly needed) BBC miniseries event truly 'it'?
Of all the stories written and published by Britain's crowned queen of mysteries, Agatha Christie's And Then There Were None has had the privilege of being adapted, staged, filmed, re-adapted, re-staged, re-written, re-published, remade, and ripped-off more than any other tale in the literate world. And it stands to reason that it should: it is, after all, one of the most ‒ if not the most ‒ successful mysteries ever published. Originally published in its native country with a far less respectable title taken from an 1860s blackface song (you may look it up at your discretion and leisure), the
After nearly 70 years of anticipation, the documentary nobody ever asked for is unearthed from the sands of tides ‒ and it still stinks to high heaven.
By the time Fish Story had been shot, scored, and pasted together for its (presumably very limited) theatrical debut in 1947, the recently-added category for Best Documentary in the Oscars was only five years old. And, upon even the most casual, non-committed viewing of Fish Story ‒ which has recently been rediscovered after nearly 70 years of obscurity and released on DVD-R via budget label Alpha Video under the more "marketable" moniker of John Carradine Goes Fishing ‒ it's easy to see why this documentary never found its way to the Academy for award-worthy approval. Granted, a good part of
Three 1940s westerns ‒ each with a stronger-than-usual female presence ‒ make their home video debut courtesy the Warner Archive Collection.
If there is one department the American film industry was certainly not lacking a sufficient output of during the first half of the 20th century, it was westerns. With the days of the Old West only a few pages back in the history book at the time, vast barren landscapes of wide open spaces and rustic rural settings ‒ most of which were replaced by strip malls, condos, and other forms of "progress" before the millennium came to a close ‒ it was fairly easy to see why so many cowboy pictures were manufactured: they were cheap, and audiences ‒
Arrow Video USA's most ambitious undertaking yet is worth its notable weight in gold.
As a guy who has become slightly worn out from watching mostly B-grade movies for the majority of both his adolescent and adult lives, it can sometimes be difficult to truly jump up and down for joy over an impending release of vintage flicks which have been buried by the sands of time. Nevertheless, my excitement managed to pique and I was instilled with a great deal of giddiness upon learning of Arrow Video's American Horror Project earlier this year. And as it turns out, my enthusiasm was completely justified, for the first installment of this potentially life-changing series has
Wes Craven's noble attempt at returning the walking dead to their deep religious roots receives an HD makeover from Scream Factory.
In this day and age, wherein masses of mindless individuals with no ability to properly implement the usage of the words "literally" or "ironically" in sentences, and who instead oversaturate conversations with superfluous adverbs where there don't need to be any (and, sadly, you don't know who you are), there's another saying that has only grown to become irritably irksome to hear: that of the many references to the "zombie apocalypse." Why, in less than ten years, the saying has miraculously become older than the walking dead in motion pictures themselves. But it wasn't always about dead folk rising from
Arrow Video unsheathes yet another B-movie featuring '80s martial arts icon, Sho Kosugi.
Sho Kosugi has always been something of a special hit-and-miss performer in the world of B-grade martial arts movies. Although he had appeared in several films prior to his official "debut" role as the bad guy in Cannon Films' 1981 epic Enter the Ninja, it wasn't until said feature that he became "recognized" as an actor with a most effective screen presence. In fact, were it not for the fact that Sho seemed to only pop up in several notably low-budget (read: bad) ninja movies that were completely indistinguishable from one another (most of which have grown to become cult
The Warner Archive Collection asks 'Wha'cha gonna do?' about this juvenile delinquent problem.
Of all the subgenres of exploitation filmmaking, the field of Juvenile Delinquency is perhaps the most neglected. In a weird way, it is fitting, considering the subjects of such features (and many short films, to boot) were usually just as ignored by their onscreen parents. And in the instance of 1949's Bad Boy, the casting of renowned World War II veteran Audie Murphy (in his first starring role) as a troubled youth with a bad temper and no sense of remorse for his many antisocial behaviors is only more appropriate. Though Murphy had received every military combat award for valor
Two transitionary tales from the West make their HD debut from Twilight Time.
Transitioning into a new environment is never an easy task, as is evident in two entirely different European motion pictures now available on Blu-ray from Twilight Time (and which were originally released as part of their November 2015 lineup). In fact, diving into each film proved just as intimidating for yours truly, who had spent so much time reviewing classic B westerns whilst reveling in the unartistic works of Z-grade hacks such as Jerry Warren in his spare time, that neither title seemed to "call out" to be viewed. But such are the perils and pitfalls of being an aging
The Warner Archive Collection unleashes one of B moviedom's greatest unsung canine performers in this weird critter noir.
A stranger wanders into town and, amid the prejudices and fears of many locals, changes the lives of people before the unknown individual exits just as swiftly as they appeared. Such a scenario has been seen and heard countless times before (many of us have indeed encountered such characters in our life stories), but in the instance of 1958's The Littlest Hobo, the "stranger" factor is upped considerably by making its protagonist one cute, very talented German Shepherd. Yes, The Littlest Hobo is essentially another Lassie clone (also see: the Warner Archive's recent release of My Pal Wolf) manufactured to
Child actress Sharyn Moffett has to learn how to cut one's wolf loose in this forgotten RKO ditty, now available from the Warner Archive Collection.
Sometimes, you never know what the true premise of a motion picture may turn out to be. This can be particularly relevant when it comes to old B movies ‒ wherein even a man taking a leisurely stroll down to the corner market for a pack of cigarettes can end with an overzealous example of religious superiority, all but demanding viewers go to church that Sunday. Why, even a simple family movie about a little girl and her pet dog can begin as one kind of tale before it ultimately transforms into something wholly other. And wouldn't you just know
Even with an unmistakable style and fine supporting cast, Woody Allen's final Orion Pictures production is a bittersweet one indeed.
In several respects, the release of Woody Allen's A Midsummer Night's Sex Comedy in 1982 marked the beginning of two pivotal points in the career of Woody Allen. Not only was it the year he began releasing a new motion picture each and every year ‒ a tradition (or obsession, perhaps) that continues to this day ‒ but it was also his first film with Orion Pictures, a company with which he would find backing and distribution for his next eleven projects. It was during his Orion constellation that Allen made a number of homages to classic film genres (and
The Warner Archive Collection unveils a vastly underrated WWII comedy about three groomless brides, with scene-chewing support from Eve Arden and Charles Ruggles.
In those glorious, long gone days before female-driven movies like Pitch Perfect and Bridesmaids (to say nothing of the forthcoming Ghostbusters spin-off, I'm sure) began infecting cineplexes near and far with stories that relied too heavily on such surefire ticket-selling gimmicks such as fart jokes, an assembly of some of American cinema's finest actresses was something worth taking note of. Particularly when said actresses weren't necessarily "comediennes" per se (and didn't "let one" for the sake of a laugh). Such a formula can be seen at work in the Warner Bros. 1944 comedy The Doughgirls: a tale for the ladies
Burt Lancaster and Alain Delon shoot the breeze ‒ and just about everything else in sight ‒ in Michael Winner's oft-criticized (but still enjoyable) espionage flick.
Following on the heels of his previous action film, 1972's The Mechanic with Charles Bronson and Jan-Michael Vincent, British filmmaker Michael (Death Wish) Winner reunited with the star of his first American project ‒ the one and only Burt Lancaster ‒ for a similarly-themed tale of espionage, double-crossin' secret agents, paid assassins, and looped dialogue. The result was 1973's Scorpio: a title that may have been carefully chosen to subtly associate audiences with yet another action film ‒ 1971's Dirty Harry, wherein Clint Eastwood matched wits (and barrel sizes) with a Zodiac-patterned serial killer named "Scorpio." And while Scorpio's limitations
Irene Dunne and Fred MacMurray do their best with subpar situational comedy material in this recent obscurity from the Warner Archive Collection.
Based on the 1943 book Who Could Ask for Anything More? by composer Kay Swift ‒ best known to today's "classic" music enthusiasts (read: people who hang out in jazz bars) as the composer of the timeless standard "Can't We Be Friends?" ‒ 1950's Never a Dull Moment finds Irene Dunne as Kay Kingsley: a fictionalized variation of her real-life counterpart, who, as our story opens, is a popular singer/songwriter in bustling New York City. During a charity rodeo event (in NYC) she helped to organize, she catches the eye of a simple, widowed father of two cowboy/rancher named Chris
Twilight Time presents the Oscar-winning western remake that inspired even more movies.
While it isn't entirely uncommon for a contemporary film to be remade into a western (it's much more common to see a western remade into something modern, or sometimes, even futuristic), it's extremely rare to see different filmed versions of the same story from the same screenwriter. The second of four adaptations (three being cinematic, the other made for TV) based on Pulitzer Prize winner Jerome Weidman's I'll Never Go Home Any More (1949), 1954's Broken Lance was the second time the original story had been transformed for the silver screen by Philip Yordan (King of Kings, El Cid) ‒
The Warner Archive Collection ups the ante with their latest release of Pre-Code rarities, adding a fifth bonus flick into the fray.
While the bulk of the Warner Archive Collection's output varies on the whole, there are numerous riches lurking within the corners of the Warner/MGM vaults that hail from a time before classic Hollywood censorship took hold. As such, every time another Forbidden Hollywood set rears its head from the dusty confines of our filmic past (read my assessment of the previous set here), I can't help but wonder what sort of treasures lie in store for classic movie enthusiasts. For their late 2015 release of Forbidden Hollywood, Volume 9, the folks at the WAC decided to not only treat us
The Warner Archive Collection unties a rare Jack Benny comedy featuring the even rarer sight of Ted Healy playing the stooge.
A melting pot of old vaudevillians and rising wisecrackers from all over the map, MGM's 1935 comedy It's in the Air finds inspiration from several forms of thieves within the confines of civilized society: advertisers, confidence tricksters, and the IRS. Here, the great Jack Benny stars as a con man in the big city who dreams of retiring from what he calls a living and reuniting with his beautiful estranged wife, but who is actuality stuck with that jestful sally of a fraudster Ted Healy as his running mate. And run, they do ‒ especially once Internal Revenue Service agent
The Warner Archive Collection unveils an uneven war of the sexes dramedy featuring an unbeatable cast.
We all know the story: boy finds girl, boy finds another girl to run off and marry, first girl gets drunk at boy's wedding. And that's just the beginning of Richard (Jailhouse Rock, The Scorpio Letters) Thorpe's 1938 B-romance (no, I did not say "bromance," brahs), Man-Proof. Here, the one and only Myrna Loy ‒ diving into her work in order to fight the still-fresh pain of losing her friend, legendary sex symbol Jean Harlow ‒ stars as a surprisingly headstrong for the late 1930s lass named Mimi Swift, daughter of prominent American romance novelist Meg Swift (Nana Bryant), who
The Warner Archive Collection digs up two forgotten starring vehicles of cinematic titan, John Barrymore.
What's in a name? These days, not a whole heck of a lot. We've witnessed the offspring, the grandchildren, and various poor relations try to follow in the footprints of their much more famous ancestors. The result? Filmic outputs that have, more often than nought, wound up as experiments on Mystery Science Theater 3000 or lampooned in equally lamentable Hollywood in-jokes such as Bowfinger. And while the bulk of modern actress Drew Barrymore's nominations are mostly in association with her unforgivable multiple appearances in movies starring Adam Sandler (and which are commonly limited to MTV Music Awards and Golden Razzies),
Wisecracking Charles Ruggles and Una Merkel highlight this odd comedy-romance-mystery that is as outdated as rail travel itself.
An out of control railroad car inhabited by a loose gorilla and runaway madman, and crazy madcap comedy are the ingredients that make up the mulligan stew of early cinema that is known as Murder in the Private Car, now available for the first time on home video from the Warner Archive Collection. An oddity from engine to caboose, the 1934 Pre-Code offering from MGM finds one of America's premium forgotten comediennes, Una Merkel, as its leading wisecracking lady, who is joined on-screen by another unremembered great of the silver screen, Mr. Charles Ruggles. The weird part about that, of
The Warner Archive Collection unveils two similarly dissimilar movies from the movie industry's "rushin' front."
Maybe it was the surprise release of Triumph of the Will on Blu-ray from Synapse Films that inspired them. Or the rise in popularity for certain presidential candidates and the decidedly questionable policies they employ about (among other controversial ideals) what to do with refugees. Perhaps it was a combination of both ‒ we may never truly know. But for whatever reason, the Warner Archive Collection decided now was the time for all classic B movie audiences to come to the aid of the anti-Nazi party with two World War II propaganda films from 1943: the MGM-released piece Hitler's Madman,
Cult cinema's perennial Thanksgiving slasher flick finally finds a home for the holidays.
American school history books used to (and probably still do) paint a pretty picture about Christopher Columbus and a certain genocidal invasion by foreigners that would later be celebrated as a holiday known as Thanksgiving. A certain famous old television commercial would have you believe a serendipitously accidental collision between two young guys resulted in Reese's Peanut Butter Cups being born. Now, what happens when you take the great taste of Thanksgiving and combine it with the subgenre of regional horror? The answer: a seasonal slasher flick that was shot under two different names in 1983, and then released in
The last of the hard-hitting, two-fisted B movie cowboys takes his final ride off into the sunset in this eight-film set from the Warner Archive Collection.
From the moment Bill Elliott made his earliest known appearance on celluloid in 1925, he garnered the interest of grumpy old studio executives and giddy young bijou patrons alike for his rugged looks and ability to throw a punch or pull out a pair of six-shooters in a flash. Indeed, the Missouri-born personality hailed from a rural upbringing; a trait that came in most handy once Columbia Pictures spotted and cast the two-fisted man's man in his first starring role ‒ the 15-chapter serial The Great Adventures of Wild Bill Hickok ‒ in 1938. From thereon in, Elliott appeared in
The great Victor Buono stars as a bastardized Boston serial killer, now available from the Warner Archive Collection.
With school shootings occurring almost daily within the confines of the American border, and acts of terrorism (domestic and otherwise) filling in the gaps between the thousands of Star Wars-related posts on our social media feeds, the once-feared serial killer seems to have become somewhat (and I phrase this as delicately as I can, folks) "passé." To think that, as recently as two decades ago ‒ just before postal workers first started to become disgruntled ‒ the unfortunate, unpredictable actions of mentally disturbed mass murderers and/or manipulatively psychopathic cult leaders would have at least garnered a swiftly-produced, exploitative television drama
As another dreadful holiday season falls upon us, there is perhaps no better time to re-celebrate Halloween with this line-up of killer October chillers.
Is it Halloween again yet? Yes, while many members of the commercialized human race rants about nightmarish presidential candidates inciting hate and discontent while obsessing over stocking stuffers amidst various prevailing paranoias concerning an imaginary war on a holiday that wasn't even theirs in the first place, the rest of us are ready to turn back the clock and revel in another ‒ more entertaining ‒ Pagan celebration. You know, the one some folks foolishly perceive to literally be of the Devil itself: Halloween. And since I was so wrapped up in my real life profession of helping people become
The Warner Archive Collection proudly presents several forgotten starring vehicles for The First Lady of the American Theater.
Unless you're an actual resident of Manhattan itself in this day and age, it's almost hard to fathom a time when Broadway ruled the world of entertainment ‒ especially when said time was long before people could upload videos to the Interweb for all to see. Personally, I can only think of five instances in my lifetime (most of which were pre-Internet) when people were raving about something related to Broadway. Three were positive: the massive successes of The Phantom of the Opera, Chicago, and The Producers. And then there were two embarrassing instances that fit in much better with
A new indie label releases BD-R versions of two late '50s cult classics.
Hailing from an era where it was never uncommon to see fly-by-night video distribution labels pop up with a couple of public domain titles, it is somewhat unsurprising to still see DVDs hit the shelves that have seen the light of day a good dozen times before. When it comes to the still forming world of Blu-ray, however, public domain issues are highly unusual ‒ especially since anyone could copy the data and release the same damn thing under their own label. Providing, that is, that said material was spectacular enough to warrant copying in the first place. When a
One missing little film featuring two lost little boys has been rescued by the great big Warner Archive Collection.
Twenty-three years after his death at the age of 71, Neville Brand remains one of B moviedom's greatest heavies. From his standout performance in one of classic film noir's most popular titles, D.O.A. ‒ in which he played a psychotic killer ‒ to his subtly magnificent starring role in Tobe (The Texas Chain Saw Massacre) Hooper's less-than-subtle horror outing Eaten Alive in 1976 ‒ in which he played a psychotic killer for a change (with a hungry pet crocodile, to boot!), Brand always left his mark. One year after his dynamic performance as the leader of the Riot in Cell
Two entirely different '50s bayou flicks ‒ now available on home video from the Warner Archive Collection ‒ receive a mite good scrutinizin'.
The strange allure of musty, humid air and untold perils that only an untamed marshland can offer has fascinated many a mere mortal ever since man first ventured into such beautiful, disease-ridden quagmires. But the equal abundance of a wide variety of life (whether it be that of an animal, plant, or parasite) is rarely examined as much as a swamp's keen ability to suck the life out of any creature with nary a lick of sense in its noggin. And so, most of the movies set in a bayou usually tend to be of either hicksploitation or monster origins.
The decapitated grandparent of grindhouse cinema gets a beautiful HD makeover in this, the definitive release of a true cult classic.
Ah, the distant, slightly faded memory of a momentous moment during my wasted youth. I can still recall perusing the shelves of the long-defunct Video Outlet in rural Janesville, CA one fateful day, setting my eyes upon a large Warner Home Video clamshell of a flick called The Brain That Wouldn't Die. It was like a call to arms for a young genre lover such as myself: a film that focused on the wild notion of a mad scientist keeping his freshly decapitated fiancée's head alive in a pan while he ventures out to strip clubs to find a body
The famous horror visionary's penultimate film ‒ which stars Deborah Kerr, Robert Walker, Mark Stevens, and Peter Lawford ‒ finally hits home video thanks to the Warner Archive Collection.
Sooner or later in life, everyone encounters a seemingly inescapable element of disappointment. And I should know, as it happens to me every damn day, usually around the time I wake up. Ultimately however, there is always a bit of good to come out of every let down ‒ depending on one's perception, of course. For me, it's the satisfaction of knowing I'll be able to return to bed at the end of the day. For Deborah Kerr in the 1950 MGM rom-com Please Believe Me, it's the prospect of true love following a seemingly life-changing inheritance. After an aging
From tales of vengeance to yarns of violence, this quintet of feature films shows some great men who are truly down on their luck.
At some point or another in life, we've experienced something that can be best summed up as being that of a hard pill to swallow. Likewise, we have seen at least one thing within our own lifespans that we can safely label as being a hard act to follow. Well, for their September 2015 line-up of Blu-ray exclusives, Twilight Time has somehow managed to wrangle up films that fall under both of those two categories, be it one or the other separately, or ‒ in the rare instance ‒ both. Here, we bear witness to both life and death (but
From Peter Gallagher's superfluous face and body hair to the bloody waters of a Samuel Fuller bathhouse, this quintet has it all.
Once again, a seemingly brief period of time has passed by, leaving in its wake a stack of movies on my proverbial workbench that is almost as long as summer itself. So it's only fitting I start my analysis of this quintet off ‒ which was made available to the public during the summer ‒ examining the titles that blatantly exploit said season. Speaking of "exploit," the term "exploitation" certainly comes to mind for many whenever Randal Kleiser's 1982 flick Summer Lovers is brought up. That, and the occasional "had me a blast" joke when people realize Kleiser also directed
Hollywood's first depiction of the Manhattan Project ‒ itself a bomb at the box office ‒ hits home video at last thanks to the Warner Archive Collection.
"First was your firecracker, a harmless explosive. Then your hand grenade: you began to kill your own people, a few at a time. Then, the bomb. Then, a larger bomb: many people are killed at one time. Then your scientists stumbled upon the atom bomb, split the atom." ‒Eros (Dudley Manlove), in Plan 9 from Outer Space While the words of Edward D. Wood, Jr. are usually laughed at, the above passage from the late B-movie auteur's best-known messterpiece is almost as pithy as Wood intended it to be when it comes to describing Hollywood's first (and perhaps least-known) attempt
William Powell, Esther Williams, and Angela Lansbury star in a forgotten footnote of film history, newly available to DVD via the Warner Archive Collection.
Many actors often own, or are generally known as, their most famous roles. During his memorable screen time in Wim Wender's Wings of Desire, the late Peter Falk ‒ playing a fictionalized personification of his self ‒ is sometimes referred to as Lt. Columbo. Likewise, Sean Connery was hard-pressed to walk into any room without someone calling him James Bond. Whilst watching the 1946 MGM drama The Hoodlum Saint recently, it dawned on me when two of the film's three major characters shared the frame together that I was witnessing the one and only time in film history in which
As good as it gets. Unless you have a time-traveling DeLorean lying around and were planning on joining me at the theater back in 1985.
The theory of time travel is a tricky one indeed ‒ especially within the confines of the filmmaking world. While some of the greatest minds on Earth may lose most (if not all) of their marbles attempting to figure out just how to achieve the much-used science fiction element of jumping from one point in time to another in real life, some of the the world's most active imaginations have figured out a way of doing it on-screen. But it can still be a very hazardous journey, as Robert Zemeckis and his writing partner Bob Gale ‒ affectionately known as
W.S. Van Dyke's early Pre-Code adventures shot in Africa and the Arctic make their digital media debuts thanks to the Warner Archive Collection.
In today's Internet-obsessed society, wherein anything ‒ from photos of far-off exotic places to the torturing of helpless animals ‒ is just a scroll down your Facebook feed away, it is sometimes hard to imagine there existed a time when we had hardly any access to such sights. And while unpleasantries such as the latter are truly better left unseen by anyone with a sliver of a soul, there was a time when Hollywood filmmakers gladly included them in their filmed treks off to distant lands. Usually, these daring men were documentary crews, who recorded parts of the world that
The Warner Archive Collection wants you to know Dick. And what better way is there than this?
If the all of the westerns from early 20th Century America were to be enshrined in a museum ‒ presented in such a way that each title had its own three foot wide partition exhibiting its original theatrical movie poster directly above a small 12-inch television set that presented the corresponding motion picture in a perpetual loop ‒ the black and white B westerns (usually referred to as "oaters" by anyone with a sliver of a passion for the subgenre) would fill up a building the size of the once wild west itself. And it would be there, down one
Michael Gross returns for another direct-to-video sequel about giant killer worms that, sadly, doesn't so much as scratch beneath the surface.
I was but a mere fresh teenager when my curiosity was first piqued by Universal Studios' Tremors ‒ starring Kevin Bacon and Fred Ward ‒ back in 1990. As I recall it, I was wandering through the mall in Medford, Oregon, where a large cardboard display of the film's familiar Jaws-inspired artwork ‒ along with the memorable tagline "They say there's nothing new under the sun. But under the ground..." ‒ sat out in front of the in-house theater (this is back when there was a tiny cinema located inside the mall itself). Being a huge fan of horror and
The infamous, long-standing contender of The Worst Movie Ever Made is ready to recruit new followers in this eagerly awaited release from Synapse Films.
The manufacturing of a cult film is not something someone may intentionally set out to do. Sure, you can wrangle a few college kids together, get the coeds to show their boobs, and shoot a shot-on-video z-grade shitfest under the delusion you are making the next greatest midnight movie ever, but you will be sorely mistaken. Much like a great work or (real) art, making a cult movie requires more than an idea and a chisel. So much more. A deranged, rushed form of feverish perseverance. A complete lack of technical know-how that is superseded by sheer determination. But most
Kirby Grant and Chinook Adventure Triple Feature, Volume 3 (1949-1953) DVD Review: Chinook of the North?
The Warner Archive Collection takes off to the Great White North (eh!) for another trio of Northern adventures of RCMP Corporal Rod Webb.
Latch your pistol to a lanyard and put your best boot forward, boys and girls, because Corporal Rod Webb is back for more adventure in the Great White North. Well, most of the time, it's Rod Webb. At first, he's named Bob McDonald, but that doesn't change the fact that he is still portrayed by Kirby Grant and is accompanied in his dangerous missions by the one and only Chinook, the Wonder Dog. As to why Grant's character was randomly changed like that is anyone's guess. But then, these were films made by the now legendary Poverty Row studio, Monogram
The very first Saturday matinee cliffhanger serial hits Blu-ray, and it's THIS? I'll take it!
Having been raised by my grandparents - proud members of the Greatest Generation - I was privileged in a way my peers were not: I learned to know of and love a variety of films (as well as television shows and radio programs) that had become nothing more than footnotes in the entertainment history books before I was even born. Fortunately for me, I was growing up within the great boom of the analog video era - when thousands of motion picture titles were finding their way to videocassette for the older generations to rediscover, hopefully gaining a new audience
The Warner Archive Collection unburies several talkies from one of the Golden Age of Hollywood's many fallen stars.
It is a sad inevitability that every era - each generation that passes - will feature a high point doomed to be forgotten come the next wave. As we move further away from the foundations of cinema, plastering over the multi-acre art deco sets of the past with small green screens in the process, more of our motion picture past is being swept under the rug. And it is here, now, as members of the Millennial generation struggle to figure out who Stan and Ollie are, that we should look back perhaps even further; to those artists that even the
"The Best Country Places in the Fabulous World," or "The Month Henry Baker Hearts Everything."
As if they were taking a cue from the late '80s new wave musician Robert Hazard himself, Twilight Time has lassoed up another wave of feature films from yesteryear that presents civilized human beings at various stages upon what he called the "Escalator of Life." From that awkward moment in our barely-pubescent years when we first begin to obsess over people we perceive ourselves to be in love with, to that moment in adulthood when we realize things just aren't the same as they used to be. You know, like a "Change Reaction." (Yes, that was a Robert Hazard song,
Bowie. Babes. Blood. Bauhaus. Carcinogens. That is all.
For the most part, the world's most famous forms of monsters - epitomized by Universal's Classic Horror films as the Frankenstein Monster, The Wolf-Man, Dracula, and The Mummy - represent different stages of human development. We start out as awkward man-made creatures, only to transform into hairy beasts with a ravenous appetite as we mature. Soon comes the vampire stage - where our very innocence is lost in a (sometimes) bloody act of penetration, only to become a dreaded creature of the night (or, "experienced," if you will). Finally - and there is much ground left uncovered here - we
Warner Bros. and DC Comics' preboot series is good bloody fun - even if it does feature Jada Pinkett Smith.
Being a more "reserved" nerd - one who does not attend conventions, camp out in line for things, spend time playing games, watch animated shows, or read comics - I generally do not obsess too terribly much over adaptations of famous graphic novel characters. Generally. Especially in today's filmic world of oversaturated, overhyped overhauls - which have sucked all the life out of once-sacred heroes of printed pages for the sake of other printed pieces of paper. Marvel's movie-making machine has managed to produce seventeen-gajillion motion pictures this year alone, including reboots that officials are already set to reboot once
"We're so far outside on this one, it's not even funny." Oh, but it is, Dolph. It is.
In Hollywood, all it takes is one strike before you're tossed out of the game. And it usually doesn't actually have to be your own fault. Just ask Mark L. Lester, the man who brought us several '80s classics including the cult classic Firestarter, the guilty pleasure Armed and Dangerous, and even Arnold Schwarzenegger's guilty pleasure of a cult classic, Commando. The latter film almost seemed to pave the way for Lester's next foray into the world of outrageous violent action films filled to the brim with snappy lines most fifth graders cringe with disbelief: the almost legendary 1991 motion
Deborah Kerr, Rossano Brazzi, and Maurice Chevalier sink in a dreary comedy set across the English Channel.
Anyone who has ever given online dating a shot knows full well how truly horrible a romance can go if you dive into it head first. Here, in the 1959 MGM flick Count Your Blessings, we witness the horrors of not only a rushed romance in a time before computer dating, but we also see what happens when people rush a film into production as well. From the get-go, Count Your Blessings had this certain je ne sais quoi to it that translated to my gut as "Yeah, there's a reason you've never heard of this one before." Sadly, I
Fred MacMurray, Dorothy McGuire, and multiple Howard Keels shine in this delightful MGM comedy.
As the American motion picture industry first began to boom in the first half of the 20th Century, Hollywood moviemakers found it was quite profitable to go up into the hills for weeks on end - years, perhaps - and shoot one low-budget western after another. In fact, so many of these cowboy quickies - "oaters," as they are affectionately known as today - were produced, that most of them didn't even get traditional movie posters in some circuits. Instead, bijou owners near and far would display generic movie posters advertising the Tim McCoy, Tex Ritter, or Tom Mix (or
A blaring Rod Steiger and a bronzed Charles Bronson highlight a forgotten feature with an still-relevant social commentary.
A simple surf through the today's news channels should painfully remind you human beings don't see eye to eye on a great number of things. This, of course, can lead to war and an unending hatred and fear of people whose cultures are dissimilar to our own. But if there's one thing most film aficionados and historians will agree on, it was filmmaker Samuel Fuller's ability to pen a great story - especially when it came to depicting man's inhumanity to man. With Run of the Arrow, 1957 western produced by RKO Radio Pictures (hey, check it out: it's the
Two more rarities from the swingin' jet-set era by director Henry Levin make their digital debuts courtesy the Warner Archive Collection.
Not too terribly long ago - a few weeks ago, in fact - I dived into three features from the swingin' '60s, as recently unburied and released to DVD via the Warner Archive Collection. While two of said films were passable entertainment at best, the third - an abominable ice creature known as Quick, Before It Melts - was so utterly awful, it genuinely made me question as to whether or not I would be able to look another movie starring Robert Morse in the eye ever again. Sure enough, such a test arose immediately thereafter when two relics from
The criminally neglected cult ABC TV series starring the late great Robert Urich returns courtesy of the Warner Archive.
A frequently used adage from the past likes to remind us "The more things change, the more they stay the same." This can be particularly pithy when it comes to television shows, including the numerous changes ABC's '80s private eye neo-noir series Spenser: For Hire went through during its second season. From the very opening of its second season, Robert Urich's titular P.I. experiences new changes, beginning with his old abandoned firehouse station pad - which he had moved into after his quaint top-floor apartment burned down in the first season - being replaced by a new and entirely different
The Warner Archive Collection unleashes several underrated film noir gems from the iconic studio.
Every film buff has that one particular genre that - though they may not consider it to be their favorite - will almost always be game for viewing at the drop of a hat. Especially when said item of men's apparel happens to be found on an abandoned cargo vessel adrift at sea, or is preceded by the man wearing it after both were pushed out of a moving plane. And with this duo of recent Warner Archive releases, we get just that: plus the fun little mysteries that follow. Part of a five title wave also including Two O'Clock
From Bowie to Brando to Blofelds, this selection of five fairly forgotten flicks has an awful lot going on.
For all things in life, there is a beginning and an end. And somewhere in the middle of all that mess, there is usually a great big production number. Sometimes, we start out with a big bang. In other instances, we go out with a grand finale worthy of the ending from All That Jazz at the most, or - at the very least - Ed Wood's Plan 9 from Outer Space. Providing you're working on a really restrictive budget, that is. And while this lineup of Twilight Time releases sadly has no correlation to the magnificent offerings of Edward
Is it a very long DVD review? A semi-comprehensive episode guide? Why, it's all those things, and still more!
“Open Channel D.” Perhaps you're a bona fide fan of the original. Or you've been intrigued (or perhaps let down) by the recent big screen prequel/remake. Either way, The Man From U.N.C.L.E.: The Complete Series brings you all four campy seasons of the cult classic television series starring Robert Vaughn as quick-witted secret agent Napoleon Solo (a man who has no problem taking time out during a chase to tell a story and who has no inhibitions whatsoever with making a wisecrack at the most impromptu of occasions) and the David Hyde Pierce of his time, David McCallum as Illya
The powerful 1939 melodrama, co-written by Dalton Trumbo, makes its long-overdue debut from the Warner Archive Collection.
Ninteen hundred thirty-nine may be remembered in the world of film as "the year that really made a killing" at the box office as far as most classic movie aficionados are concerned. That final stretch of the decade may have seen the beginning of the Second World War, but it also paved the way for such motion picture classics as Gone with the Wind, Stagecoach, and some seldom-seen flick called The Wizard of Oz. In-between the dozens of lavish A-list motion picture unveilings - featuring the likes of the Greta Garbo, James Stewart, Bette Davis, Errol Flynn, and Basil Rathbone
Three rarities starring David McCallum, George Hamilton, and Robert Morse resurface. But is that really a good thing?
The '60s, ladies and gentlemen. It was a time when filmmakers and studio executives - for whatever ungodly reason - decided the implementation of corny animation, still images of goofy faces, and half-baked musical interludes would entertain older generations and the growing "mod" audience of the time alike. (And if those selling points seem ridiculous to you, just remember: people are still paying to see Adam Sandler movies in theaters today.) Of course, in many instances, it wasn't quite enough. Easily the "best" offering out of this little line-up, 1967's Three Bites of the Apple was one of several starring
Every dog has his day… (And cult movie collectors will have theirs this week!)
As a certain Italian schlockumentary once reminded us many moons ago, it's a dog's world out there. And some distant cousins of the Italians - the Hungarians - have seen fit to impress that old adage upon us once more, with their multiple award-winning 2014 hit Fehér isten, better known in the English-speaking parts of the world as White God. Here, writer/director Kornél Mundruczó paints his audiences an ugly reminder that - despite our alleged progress when it comes to being humane towards everyone, animal or human alike - we're still just a bunch of stinkin' savages. Ignoring another timeless
The notorious cash-in of a craze beget by the cash-in of a cash-in makes its much-needed (?) High-Definition debut courtesy the finely deranged folks at Grindhouse Releasing.
In 1970, with the entire world in a state of change, Elliot Silverstein's A Man Called Horse was released to cinemas. Like the environment that spawned it, the film was about a transformation: a white man named John Morgan (as played by the late Richard Harris) - captured and enslaved by a group of Native Americans - soon becomes one with the very tribe that had previously seized and humiliated him. Of course, no groundbreaking work of art goes unnoticed abroad - especially in Italy, where filmmakers were keen to cash-in on anything that generated so much as a dollar-fifty
The Warner Archive Collection releases an excellent, atmospheric, innovative, and gritty crime drama from yesteryear. A definite must-see.
Filmmaker Ralph Nelson was always up for something different. While the late director is best known today for bringing the world acclaimed (and often groundbreaking) classics such as Requiem for a Heavyweight, Charly, tick... tick... tick…, and Lilies of the Field, it's some of the movies he's not known for today that perhaps deserve the most attention. And one such motion picture outing is his 1965 masterpiece Once a Thief: a spectacularly gritty black-and-white crime drama written by an actual ex-convict set in San Francisco during that precariously precocious period that bridged the gap between the beatnik era and the
The Warner Archive Collection brings us a seldom seen psychological thriller that has trouble finding its own direction.
In Hollywood, it doesn't take long to become typecast. Take, for example, the early career of one Stuart Whitman. Following a breakout performance as a recently released child molester attempting to exorcise his personal demons in 1961's The Mark, the recently new to the limelight Mr. Whitman found himself earning an Oscar nomination and a few meaty parts alongside John Wayne in big studio productions. But the shadow of his most famous role (of the time) remained, and in 1962, Whitman was a supporting cast member in a prison drama entitled Convicts 4. In 1964, Stuart appeared in a psychological
German-Irish actor Michael Fassbender stars and co-produces this New Zealand-made tale from the American West, which features many a Scotsman and Aussie. How's that for diversity?
With the American western genre all but dead, this is as good of a time as any for filmmakers from other corners of the globe to try their hand at something the Italians once perfected in the 1960s: revamping it. In 2005, Australian musician Nick Cave (our deepest of condolences to you and yours, good sir) penned a screenplay for The Proposition. In 2010, the Aussies brought us a great contemporary western entitled Red Hill. Sadly, neither film really garnered enough attention stateside in order to reignite the flame of passion for the cowboy movie. Well, here we are in
The Warner Archive Collection brings us three classic catalogue titles out of the Standard and into the realms of High-Definition.
In continuing their fine tradition of reviving the occasional catalogue title for today's HD-savvy generations, the Warner Archive Collection has been releasing more vintage titles to Blu-ray than ever before. Recently, three classic titles from one end of yesteryear or another - the 1933 musical 42nd Street, the oddball 1986 magical fantasy/comedy/adventure Ladyhawke, and the mythical 1981 urban horror flick Wolfen - landed on my doorstep; each as far removed from the other as can be. My trio of diversity begins with the 1933 musical 42nd Street, as choreographed by the great Busby Berkeley and directed by the one and
The Warner Archive Collection brings us two more titles from the early days of DVD in widescreen for the first time.
As they had done in the latter part of 2014 with several titles that truly deserved it, the folks at the Warner Archive Collection have once more taken two completely different catalog titles from the earliest days of DVD and given them the widescreen treatment they should have had back in 1998. Alas, these two titles are not on the same level as The Black Scorpion or a couple of classic Steve Martin comedies. Instead, this batch of newly widened screenings consists of movies that even I didn't rent on video when I was a teenager. And mind you, I
The first and only post-fame feature-length film from the classic sketch comedy hosts is a mostly dreadful horror spoof.
During a time when five crazy Britons and one expatriate American were producing bizarre sketch comedy for the BBC, two US-born contemporaries on the other side of The Pond were running amok on national television. Thus, Rowan & Martin's Laugh-In (complete with a soon-to-be-dated title about the hippie revolution) amassed a huge following, launching its hosts, comedians Dan Rowan and Dick Martin, to success status for a brief period. Naturally, no one in the motion picture business was about to let a hot commodity like Rowan and Martin slip past them; because, as anyone who has ever seen any Saturday
From the hormonally-charged historical wrongdoings of King Henry VIII to David Mamet's acclaimed verbal diarrhea, this batch of flicks has all bases covered.
Once more, the folks at Twilight Time have resurrected five photoplays from yesteryear - and this time, they're not holding back on the dramatics one bit. We begin our line-up with perhaps the most epic motion pictures of epic motion pictures ever; the fact that A Man for All Seasons features a supporting performance by the one and only Orson Welles himself doesn't even enter into it, believe it or not! Rather, Robert Bolt's A Man for All Seasons focuses on the charisma and talents of the late Paul Scofield, cast here as Sir Thomas More. Now, for my fellow
The cycloptic grandpappy of ALIEN clones makes its chest-bursting, worldwide High-Definition Blu-ray debut courtesy Arrow Video.
Imitation may be the sincerest form of flattery - it's certainly the least-creative - but there are relatively few individuals out there with enough gall to market a movie of their own as a sequel to somebody else's production. Nevertheless, the annals of exploitation movie history could quite literally be lined with one-sheet movie posters of low-budget movies shamelessly retitled in an attempt to lure unsuspecting filmgoers into thinking they were follow-ups to other (better known) movies. The lengths some of these shady distributors would go to were admirable, to say the least - with my personal favorite being the
Witness an unforgettably forgettable failure from one of low budget cinema's most notable underachievers.
This may sound pretty odd coming from an individual such as myself, but z-grade exploitation filmmaker Anthony Cardoza is quite a bit of queer duck. While his stint with the U.S. Army during the Korean War earned him many a medal for his distinguished service to his country - including one for marksmanship - his subsequent, longer engagement in the motion-picture industry has resulted in each and every one of his projects completely failing to hit their mark, with nary an award to be seen from any direction. His brief association with cult auteur Coleman Francis, wherein Mr. Cardoza produced
David McCallum's solo venture into the '60s spy genre is odd, compelling, and worth a look.
As I had iterated in my ealier review of The Scorpio Letters, the latter half of the '60s were big on spy movies. The Britons essentially set the stage for a newly-revamped genre with their James Bond series, and everybody else was soon competing to create their own various fields of cinematic espionage. The craze became an all-out phenomenon in Europe, giving birth to what we call the Eurospy film today. In a way, it was a blessing. Sure, there were a lot of forgettable movies made during this time thanks to ol' supply and demand model of economics, but
The fourth film in the popular series is everything that the previous sequels should have been, but never could have.
Sequels have always been a tough market. Even as far back as the classic Universal Monster movies, filmmakers were struggling to come up with new and inventive concepts in order to keep franchises alive and kickin'. Once a World War had ended and the Atomic Age came to pass, man-made legends such as vampires or the Frankenstein monster took a backseat to reawakened prehistoric beasts. One such devil was the Gill Man from The Creature from the Black Lagoon, whose brief trilogy of films went through as diverse of a storytelling process as could be, having been discovered in the
The Warner Archive Collection rescues two forgotten comedies featuring the less-than-celebrated fictional sleuth.
The list of female mystery writers in history isn't a terribly long one. Even today, the only mysteries set in the literary world as written by women are the unexplained successes of poorly-worded tripe such as Twilight and Fifty Shades of Grey. No, that's not my chauvinistic side poking out of my trousers. That's something anyone with even a little common sense (or taste!) can attest to. Of course, the relatively short list of lady crime writers can mostly be blamed on good ol' fashioned chauvinism itself - as it wasn't until the last century that women finally began to
Much like The Damned before them, the folks at Arrow Video USA have fallen in love with some genuine video nasties.
In Great Britain, they were banned from being made available to the public outright. In the United States of America, they usually wound up being released in a heavily altered form. And sometimes, even in their native countries, they wound up being the subjects of much controversy. I refer, of course, to those magical motion pictures that the former powers of the UK so unknowingly assigned the lovable nickname of "Video Nasties" to. Those various cannibal and/or zombie holocausts those of us who grew up without the Interwebs had to track down from mail-order companies advertised in the back of
The Warner Archive does its best to preserve a flick where Sterling Hayden punches Lee Van Cleef, and l'il wooden Indian figures are set aflame and thrown off a ledge. And that's about it.
Try and try as we may, that which we wish to do in the world is often limited by what we can do. Just like an old saying that implies we should stack all of that which we covet into one hand as opposed to our own human waste, the reality of our dreams isn't always as glamorous (or as sanitary). Actor Sterling Hayden was certainly one of those individuals who expected slightly more than the universe had intended of him. While he loathed acting in the moving pictures, Mr. Hayden nevertheless had to keep the dough rolling in so
Is it a film noir? A political corruption yarn? A forensics investigatory piece? A rom-com? It's all these things, and more!
Since the mid 1990s, American television airwaves (where applicable) have been periodically tuning audiences into two tremendously popular forms of drama: that of the political corruption story, and the umpteen bajillion different forensic investigation shows that have filled out a weekly broadcast schedule since 2001 alone. Prior to those years, however, we only ever saw the occasional unscrupulous administrative yarn in theaters (almost all of which starred Al Pacino, for some unknown reason); the complex science of crime solving being reserved primarily for pulp fiction books, as cinema (and later, television) patrons apparently found them to be complex, or perhaps
The only thing poisonous about these letters was found in the Nielsen ratings.
Quite often, all it takes in order to get the writing ball rolling is an idea. Just one single silly concept that can be molded and reshaped into something substantial. I know that all too well. Why, I can be standing in front of the mirror, brushing my teeth, and suddenly think of a (what I think is) great way to begin an article, and from the second I put it to virtual paper, it's all downhill from there. Of course, there is that occasional motion picture offering that many people would probably prefer the sight of someone (not necessarily
Imagine if David Lynch traveled back in time to the '50s, made a TV show, then re-edited it into a feature film to create the Spaghetti Western movement.
Every now and then, something or someone comes along that simply surpasses all of your expectations and prompts you to ask "Where have you been all of my life?" Usually, one begs such a rhetorical inquiry of a person. Or a pet, perhaps (hey, it's possible). But in the case of the average cinephile, that sort of a question is occasionally reserved for the (re-)discovery of one of yesteryear's forgotten motion picture offerings. Being an old B movie aficionado, this means I have to wade through a lot of movies in order to find something that truly makes me want
Caution: Musicals, intense British drama, and '70s cinematic hallucinogens lie ahead.
In addition to re-releasing two previously sold out titles to Blu-ray in brand new 4K transfers, Twilight Time has also been unleashing a lot of drama on us lately. And I don't mean that in a "fanboys are heating up on forum and Facebook posts about Night of the Living Dead again" sense, mind you; I am referring to the fact that the ever-expanding niche label has picked up pound of positively sterling drama flicks - many of which hail from that world of pound sterling itself, the United Kingdom. Of course, no good deed is left unpunished, so there
The Warner Archive Collection digs up the fictionalized account of a famous digging out co-starring Colonel Klink himself.
It's little more than a footnote to today's generation, who has an entire world of information at their fingertips, but uses their power to post shaming videos and offensive memes. But once upon a time, the Berlin Wall was the tangible equivalent of Net Neutrality, with the government on the side of East Germany taking the place of Internet censorship. Only much, much worse. From 1961 to 1989, even trying to get across to the West side of the wall without going through proper checkpoints and channels would get you a one-way ticket to the great gig in the sky
The Warner Archive Collection dusts off the charming, well-made film noir howcatchem starring Rosalind Russell and Sydney Greenstreet.
Primarily, there are two types of murder mysteries. The first and foremost variety is that of the whodunit, wherein audiences are just as in the dark as to who committed whatever heinous crime is afoot, and attempt to match wits with the story's writers. Then there is that less-traveled road, that of the howcatchem drama, wherein we know who did it - because we always see them do it in the beginning of the tale - and then watch as a (usually) seasoned detective puts the pieces together. And, despite its seeming as simplistic as can be, this type of
The Warner Archive Collection dusts off a trio of strange spaghetti westerns starring the even stranger Tony Anthony.
With the exception of those sick individuals who mimic the patterns of serial killers, most copycats can be incredibly amusing. If you've ever walked through a crowded urban marketplace to discover a suspiciously underpriced and slightly odd-looking designer handbag or watch - and you weren't dumb enough to buy whatever it was under the belief it was the real deal - you know what I mean. And how 'bout those epically awful Turkish Star Wars action figures? Or perhaps you recall that one glorious instance in recent history wherein China earnestly attempted to convince Americans of their superior Air Force
Barry Sullivan and Broderick Crawford team up for a fabulous, forgotten B western of high grade ore.
Throughout both the cinematic and literary realms of the western, a common thread/title tends to appear: "the Last of the Badmen." In fact, there have been about a half a dozen movies and novels released during the last century or so to have used those very same words as their title, most of which were re-titlings of other projects, given a new name to help sell the goods. Interestingly, the first film to actually be based on a book called Last of the Badmen (as penned by Jay Monaghan) wound up receiving a new title for its theatrical release. And
Filmmaker Albert Band manages to pave the way for every other sci-fi and horror series ever with one simple drama now available (at last) from the Warner Archive Collection.
Anyone not familiar with the family name of Band within the halls of the B movie archives probably shouldn't be perusing such a vault in the first place. For today's trash lovers, the formidable Band forename is Charles. If you still don't make the connection, Charles Band is a feller who not became a major player back in the early days of home video sleaze (see: Wizard Video), but who has been cranking out one cheap 'n' cheesy exploitation movie after another in recent years. But long ago, when Charles was but a wee lad, his filmmaker father Albert was
Twilight Time explores the various space in-between the minds of Jules Verne and H.G. Wells.
Previously at Cinema Sentries, I had touched upon the subject of people bad trips, courtesy of two recent Blu-ray releases from Twilight Time, Roger Donaldson's The Bounty (1984) and Oliver Stone's U Turn (1997). Here, I am continuing that thread, albeit with two adventures of a much more pleasant nature. Like my earlier article, wherein one film was set at sea and the other on land, this cinematic coupling presents viewers with a contrast: that of the exploration of inner-space and the conquest of outer space. Additionally, this pairing of moving pictures presents a similarly dissimilar echoing of science fiction
The Warner Archive Collection preserves a seldom seen (but highly enjoyable) WWII quickie ripe with B movie and TV veterans.
With every war that breaks out on Earth, whether it be global or regional, a high amount of controversy emerges with it. While today's highly cynical civilization usually prefers to silently and passive-aggressively protest about deadly conflict online via shared Facebook memes, the generations of the past - being far less bitter and much more patriotic about their country - simply found the current war they were involved in to be too sacred to talk about. Thus, during the decade that brought us the Korean War, filmmakers in Hollywood were cranking out a whole heck of a lot of World
Seven kids raised on religion, a dead mother, and a deadbeat dad. You do the math.
Though it has never been "officially" classified in the annals of genre-specific filmdom, British cinema inducted a New Wave of horror that shyly boomed in the '70s. It was then that filmmakers such as Pete Walker and Norman J. Warren began to ditch the older, romantic, gothic offerings from the former empire's glory days of what many would gently describe as "terror films" in lieu of a much more sinister menace: man. Michael Armstrong's joint-continental horror classic Mark of the Devil is often cited as being one of the first features in this unofficial New Wave to emphasise man's inhumanity
The two best bad trips you can possibly book this season.
Everyone has that proverbial journey in their lifetime that can only later be described as a bad trip. My second and final visit to the allegedly magical theme park of Disneyland - committed when I was but a mere '90s adolescent, and probably against my will - resulted in a four-hour search for a corndog across the vast, bastard-riddled arena for people who probably should have been sterilized at birth, along with their spoiled rotten offspring. And you might think that a corndog would be an easily obtainable article of "confectionery with added meat of dubious origin" at a place
The Warner Archive Collection brings us the last genuine Ealing Comedy, which also features a young (and already bald) Donald Pleasance.
Television shows notwithstanding, the bulk of British filmmaking - that is to say, actual feature length films made especially for the cinema - have been unfairly lumped into two categories by American audiences: long, drawn-out, boring dramas, and comedies that only made viewers long for a Benny Hill rerun. And the bulk of the unfairness lies within the world of British comedy, as most of us have only ever been subjected to latter-day Carry On entries and, well, Benny Hill reruns. In fact, there have been many excellent British comedies manufactured since World War II that, thankfully, didn't feature Rowan
Fredric March stars as Minister William Spence in this forgotten (but enjoyable) biopic.
Sometimes, the whole "forgive and forget" thing just doesn't cut it. One of the more novel aspects of the seven-kajillion European westerns made during the '60s and '70s involved men of the cloth - those who had devoted their lives to preaching the word of God - flat out seeking revenge vengeance after having been wronged by their fellow man. It's plausible - even possible - given the right set of circumstances. Likewise, in the classic 1974 Mel Brooks comedy Blazing Saddles - the film that admirably spoofed the classic style of western film that would eventually (unknowingly) give birth
The '70s Australian eco-horror classic finally gets the treatment it deserves from Synapse Films.
During the the last half of the '90s, I devoted the bulk of my meager existence to the video store I worked at. One day, the owner's wife brought in a lovely terrarium to sit on the large spacious corner of the checkout counter. It sat there for a long time, being admired by the occasional customer, such as an instance when a gentleman commented on its beauty and simplicity. "Yeah," I said, "now throw in a bunch of little humans and watch it go to shit." He nodded in agreement, and for good reason: we're bastards like that. No,
A tale as old as recorded time. The script isn't that fresh, either.
The year 1959. It was a time of luscious, extravagant widescreen productions - fueled by luscious, extravagant budgets beget by big men who were in-turn fueled by luscious, extravagant proportions of booze. As television lured audiences away from the cinemas in large droves, studios made sure to promise them the moon in exchange for their hard-earned money. And, as anyone who has ever been to the moon knows, the best way to deliver it is to not deliver it, and instead remind mankind that God really doesn't want him toying around out there in the vacuum of space like that.
Yep, it's a happy kind of picture, kids. But at least you'll be able to see sultry Valerie Perrine in the buff!
In this day and age, it seems highly laughable that the very sort of individuals we pay to openly laugh at would run afoul with the law for doing what the do best. I refer to stand-up comedians, of course, and not politicians - although, to a less intentional degree, we wind up doing the same with the latter. In fact, it was the very latter who made both the life and career of a comic in the 1960s become particularly troublesome, thus whipping up a tendentious media circus that finally wrapped up a good forty years later with a
The Warner Archive Collection delivers two entirely different sides of Humphrey Bogart, including the film he perhaps hated making the most.
Just when you thought you had seen just about everything Humphrey Bogart ever made, along comes the Warner Archive Collection to set you straight, by pointing out that "just about everything" may only just scratch the surface. Once more, the MOD division of the studio that made Bogey a star back when the whole world was black-and-white has unburied a few rarities. Making their home video debuts here are two vastly different contributions to cinema starring Hollywood's Golden Age alpha bad boy himself, beginning with a serious crime/prison drama - something Bogart was quite good at. Then we have an
Tony Randall makes for one of cinema's least memorable Hercule Poirots in this dire British spoof of the Agatha Christie novel.
Along with the various adventures of Sherlock Holmes, the most celebrated - as well as imitated - fictional sleuth of the male gender in nearly every possible form of media is that of Agatha Christie's Belgian detective Hercule Poirot. Brought to life time and time again by the famous face (and sometimes figure) of celebrated actors such as Peter Ustinov, Ian Holm, Orson Welles, Albert Finney, Alfred Molina, and - perhaps most famously - David Suchet, the unforgettable caricature of Poirot has been copied and infused into other fictional detectives, as well. Tony Shalhoub's obsessive-compulsive detective Monk was an excellent
If you avoid certain NFL-oriented video games, does that mean you're Far from the Madden Crowd?
Having never been a very literary-minded lad, I must confess that I did not devote quite as much of my time as a youth to that which was printed. Well, there were those issues of Psychotronic, European Trash Cinema, Filmfax, and, of course, my father's old Playboy and Penthouse magazines. I even buried my nose in the occasional movie reference item, such as several of the late great Phil Hardy's encyclopedias. Needless to say, Phil Hardy was about as close as I ever got to Thomas Hardy when it came to published materials. On film, I had seen the works
Sidney Poitier's students have a bad reputation. What they need is a little adult education.
By today's standards, the classic movie motif of a determined teacher reaching a group of tough, underprivileged kids in an urban school is hardly anything new. Granted, it isn't commonly seen in cinematic outings as much as it used to be, as evidenced by viral Facebook videos of inner-city youths finding out firsthand the perils of applying a fully functional taser to an article of golden jewelry (or "bling", as I believe they call it). Indeed, were Sidney Poitier's Mark Thackeray - or even Mr. Wizard, for that matter - around in this day and age to teach kids a
Twilight Time brings an early precursor to the blaxploitation subgenre (seriously, it is!) to Blu-ray.
Having essentially gone through the growing up part of my wasted youth engaging in the fine art of bad film, I have encountered many different exploitation genres. Some movies were made solely to sell the element of sex. Others devised to gather a crowd of a different kind of deviants altogether, who flocked in like sheep to see just how gruesome and gory things could get at the drive-in. But of all the notable subgenres that have hailed from the annals of exploitation filmmaking, there is perhaps no greater pleasure - or perhaps guiltier pleasure - to be had than
The film that takes the expression "Years in the Making" to a whole new level finally gets a chance to be seen by all.
If Massacre Mafia Style was Duke Mitchell's antithesis to Francis Ford Coppola's The Godfather, the late Southern California Italian/American crooning personality's final (known) work, Gone with the Pope could very well be his own flip side to the entire world of filmmaking in general. Massacre Mafia Style was a delirious - and highly enjoyable - assault on the senses, made in the wake of the famous gangster picture, with plenty of oomph and random bits of lunacy thrown in for good measure. Gone with the Pope, on the other hand, is pretty much a feature-length film full of random bits
Angelina Jolie brings us an all too run-of-the-mill biography of WWII POW Louis Zamperini.
Despite having seen the trailer for the film at the cinema prior to its release, it wasn't until I saw the teaser/standee artwork for the WWII/POW movie Unbroken that it stood out to me. And that was because once I saw a man standing with his back to us, holding a heavy wood beam over his head, a golden-colored and familiar-looking font spelling out the name of the film, I instantly thought of Rocky Balboa. I had every reason to, too, as the promotional artwork damn near plagiarized the cover of the more popular 2006 Sylvester Stallone sequel. When
Ridley Scott falls far from the grace of God and anyone who has ever worshipped either of the two.
According to His faithful flock and their respective independently-produced movies, God is not dead. The concept of the Hollywood biblical epic, on the other hand, is a critically endangered species. The days of lavish productions loaded with dazzling special effects and all-star casts of white folk playing Egyptians performing in big-budget productions interlaced with a strong belief in the Christian theology throughout are long gone, having been replaced by low-budget, poorly acted, and usually mind-numbing films produced by people who are either just exploiting the faithful (see: Left Behind), or who are a few hundred thousand Hebrewites short of an
Universal re-releases John Hughes' quintessential teen dramedy just in time for a two-night theatrical re-offering.
One of the few filmmakers who made movies about teenagers while actually having an understanding about the awkward, spotty-faced years of adolescence itself, John Hughes' second film as writer and director (and his first as a producer) is one that has successfully managed to withstand the test of time. Indeed, it is probably the quintessential American motion picture to center on high school students (from the '80s or otherwise) who are coming to grips with themselves, peer groups, and the pressures allotted to and from both. With a minimal budget, single location setting, and nothing but character development to offer,
The movie that left its mark on the annals of exploitation advertising history inaugurates Arrow Video's new North American label.
Nothing delights me more than seeing a new cult video label emerge in the USA. After the collapse of the (global) economy nearly a decade ago, a number of niche companies who specialized in movies I grew up only reading about or drooling over the lurid VHS labels of in mom and pop video stores as a kid disappeared. Many of them were on a winning streak at the time, too, which makes it all the more regrettable. Since then, several outfits have surfaced - with some becoming hugely popular, while others were literally the home video equivalent of a
Finally, the classic cop show we all love to love for all the wrong reasons returns.
Were one to order nachos at a restaurant in the plainest, most simplistic form possible, they would most likely receive a pile of crispy tortilla eighths covered in a melted mass of dairy-gleaned and coagulated delight. "Cheesy chips," if you will. Similarly, were one to sit back and watch even one episode of a certain, lighthearted television series about the California Highway Patrol as made during the late '70s and early '80s, they might think something along the line of how cheesy CHiPs is. And yet, despite all of the bad acting, ridiculously lurid storylines, and a noticeable lack of
The ultra-violent cult classic from a very ambitious cabaret entertainer returns to entertain and shock once more.
It is sometimes interesting - well, to me, that is - how many of the articles I request or wind up for review can often be "connected" to one another like a really outrageous game of Six Degrees of Separation. Not too terribly far back, I found myself diving into the Warner Archive Collection re-releases of the Dean Martin & Jerry Lewis Collections. Just last week, I was viewing Twilight Time's new Blu-ray issue of Roger Corman's neglected Prohibition Era gangster picture, The St. Valentine's Day Massacre. Believe it or not, there's more than one common denominator at play between
The Woody Allen film that even Woody Allen likes gets the High-Def treatment.
Though some people out there would just assume never hear his name ever again, there is ultimately no denying the contributions Woody Allen has made to the worlds of both comedy and cinema alike since he first starting writing gags for television in the late 1950s. Since then, he has directed 50 (count 'em, fifty) projects in addition to writing, producing, and/or starring in several dozen others. Heck, some of the classic comedians who would become the filmmaker's inspirations growing up did not have such a filmic output (even when combined in some instances). But it wasn't just the witty
The movie that almost put gangsters films back on the map returns for another round (of ammunition).
While movies like Sam Peckinpah's The Wild Bunch and Arthur Penn's Bonnie and Clyde generally get the most credit for being the movies that really introduced gritty onscreen violence into the movies (the former was released just months after the MPAA rating system was introduced in 1968), they weren't the first to do so. Not by a long shot. In fact, copious amounts of blood were being spilled by Herschell Gordon Lewis in his outrageous horror movies that made a real killing at drive-ins for jaded teen and rural audiences during the early '60s. The occasional big-budget Cinemascope war film
Yes, it's "Still a better love story than Twilight" time.
If someone would have told me three years ago that I would be repeating myself, well, I probably would have believed them. Indeed, when I initially sat down to work on a review for Twilight Time's 30th Anniversary Edition of the 1985 vampire horror classic, Fright Night, I nearly found myself writing the exact same words I had jotted down for my original article for the company's initial release of the film. Not wanting to repeat myself - and with little else to say on the title, I must sadly confess - I figured, since I greedily ignored my editor's
The Warner Archive Collection unburies the famous late actor's first starring role, wherein he is paired with Ted Healy as a sidekick!
In-between the vast unnecessary space taken up within the confines of the virtual world by loving tributes to reality-TV celebrities and the hateful comments left behind by internet users who are an entirely different waste of space, there are a few really cool things on the web. One thing I occasionally grin with delight at are the sight of re-imagined artwork for movies - such as the fan-made poster artwork for Ghostbusters starring iconic British horror legends Christopher Lee, Peter Cushing, and Vincent Price (with Woody Strode jokingly tossed in as the token black guy) - and even records (a
Spencer Tracy's first starring role for MGM is supported by the feature film debut by James Stewart in this unconventional murder mystery.
It was 1935. The Hays Office had recently begun to enforce their code of morals in film. Meanwhile, film itself was finally getting used to the whole sound thing. Projects were practically bursting from the seems of studios all around town, be it over on Poverty Row or on the lot of the more prestigious outlets. And one such outlet was MGM, where a modest murder mystery was being manufactured under the direction the man who would later bring us The Thief of Bagdad - Tim Whelan - with a script written by he and future Robinson Crusoe on Mars
A delightfully dumb ditty that is bursting with equestrian euphemisms and great B-grade bombshells.
Though the notion of an actor or actress being a "sex symbol" had been in existence well before the someone coined the phrase in the '50s, it wasn't until that glamorous decade itself rolled around that things really started busting out all over. Quite literally in some cases - so much so that the concept of "skill" was often regarded as secondary when it came to some of America's "biggest" sex symbols, such as a legendary trio of lasses who would become known as The Three Ms in some circles: Marilyn Monroe, Jayne Mansfield, and Mamie Van Doren. They were
Twilight Time gives the controversial Phoolan Devi biography an upgrade. But is that really a good thing?
As sad as this may sound to you, my earliest memories of childhood revolve around watching movies. My parents, for whatever reason, decided to take my three-year-old self to a showing of Alien when it was making its initial rounds in theaters back in '79. Eddie Parker's sorry-looking monster in Abbott and Costello Meet the Mummy stands out prominently in my singular image visual databank due to a very early encounter with late night television. I had carte blanche from my guardians to rent virtually anything I wanted to at the local video stores (barring X-rated films, of course, which
Unhappy honeymooners Shirley Temple and John Agar appear on-screen together for the second and final time in this odd 1949 dud.
Exactly one year ago today, America's quintessential child star, Shirley Temple departed from this world - leaving behind an iconic legacy in the world of film. Many mourned her death as the end of an era, whether it be due to her work in Hollywood as that darling little song-and-dance girl, her victory over breast cancer as an adult, her unwitting commitment to the sales of grenadine syrup in bars and restaurants everywhere, or even her involvement in politics between the late '60s to early '90s. To the slightly off-kilter people around the globe like me, however - those of
The Warner Archive Collection brings us a much-needed improved print of the campy Shatner vs Shatner Euro western cult classic.
Though many roads were constructed during the European western era of the '60s, very few paths were created that lead to fame for stardom-starved individuals on either side of the camera. And those went down such lonely, rugged trails dared not tread lightly. Providing fate was on your side, you could find yourself walking in the footsteps of Clint Eastwood - who was little more than a television actor appearing in a weekly western show before Sergio Leone opened the door to international acclaim for him. If lady luck was not guiding you along the way, however, there was the
Four highlights from the short-lived comic pairing include the final villainous teaming of Bela Lugosi and Lionel Atwill, as well as a newly discovered Robert Mitchum in drag!
It is often stated that history is written by the victors. This expression (usually attributed to Winston Churchill, although without any definite evidence) holds true not only when it comes to mankind's dire obsession with the deadly serious subject of war, but also within the equally serious battlefield of comedy. While historical reference books on comedians will always include classic two-man partnerships such as Abbott and Costello or Laurel and Hardy, there are a multitude of other acts who have been tucked away in-between footnotes of the appendix - many of which rose from the same humble vaudeville/music hall origins
Universal's unofficially official entry to their forthcoming monster series reboot actually has a bit of bite to it.
Since that fateful day back in the late 1890s when Bram Stoker first introduced the world to Count Dracula, the vampiric vessel of villainy has grown to become one of filmdom's most frequently filmed (or even referenced) characters. In fact, he has been around for so long, that it's hard to imagine a world without him! And despite the fact that he has been killed off time and time again, he has always managed to return in usually unrelated films or franchises. In some instances, he re-emerged under a new name, such as Nosferatu, Alucard, Leighos, Drake, or Orlok (the
And to think all it took for us to get rid of Sondra Locke was to let her direct!
After Clint Eastwood's career skyrocketed in the late '60s following the American release of Sergio Leone's Dollars trilogy, the entire world was at the actor's feet. Soon, the now-established crowd-pleaser was making one hit after another, often for his own outfit, The Malpaso Company (later Malpaso Productions). In fact, things were looking great and running smooth for several years. And then he met an anemic actress with large, lifeless black pools for eyes, stringy long concrete blonde hair, and a frail-looking frame. Her name was Sondra Locke, and for years, she generated many protesting groans of disgust from audiences members
BBC Video drops the ball with an unlabeled half-season set of an already canceled Canadian TV show.
Between having lived in a small redneck/prison/crackhead town year-round, walked on Hollywood Boulevard during the summertime when tourist season is at its height, and flown across the country in coach on Delta Airlines, I am fully aware that there are mentally unbalanced people everywhere. Heck, most of the people that have spent more than three minutes speaking to me have probably concluded I fall into that category myself, but I haven't quite reached the point of running around in nothing but my underwear shouting about demons. And since I don't wear any such undergarments, the day I do will surely
The Warner Archive Collection releases the rarely-seen comedy that may have inspired a famous Mel Brooks movie.
Considering how many times the Italian film industry has shamelessly ripped off American productions, I suppose it's only fitting (ironic, even, depending on whether or not you're a hipster and actually use that word in the right context) that the very movie which helped to launch the career of zany American filmmaker like Mel Brooks may have been derived from an Italian production. And I use the word "may" with both apprehension and caution alike because I don't think there's a single person on the planet that has a bad thing to say about Brooks, though it's very hard to
David Carradine sleepwalks through Ingmar Bergman's one and only (and kind of weird) Hollywood production.
I will be the first to admit that my personal experience with the work of Ingmar Bergman is decidedly limited. In fact, it almost entirely centered around a period in high school wherein my English/Drama teacher and I would privately discuss some of our favorite movies. I would recommend something like Wings of Desire, she would in exchange assist in molding my then-artistic mindset by introducing me to Bergman's The Seventh Seal. Mind you, I was the very same weird kid who was caught casually watching Doctor Butcher, M.D. in the classroom one day when she and all of the
A tepid, presumably rushed adaptation of the Ira Levin novel that is mostly notable for being a great gathering of future B movie and television actors.
Some things simply look better on paper. Like that time I was a kid when my friend and I worked out how to cryogenically freeze a frog and later re-animate it. It all made perfect sense in our heads, and played out quite well on the board. The reality of the situation, however - involving a Ziploc bag full of water, the upper freezer half of an old brown Frigidaire refrigerator, and the open ends of a severed electrical cord from an even older lamp - only succeeded in a bit of a mess and a story that would regularly
Aging author/playwright Israel Horovitz finally makes his feature film directorial debut. But is he too late in doing so?
In this great big muddled world of ours, we seem to be divided into large groups of individuals. On the one side, you have picky people who will dispiritingly say that you cannot teach an old dog a brand new trick. And then there are those seemingly rare factions of folks who will encouragingly state that it is never too late to learn. My Old Lady, the indie feature from 2014 starring Kevin Kline, Kristin Scott Thomas, and Maggie Smith, seems to fall somewhere in the middle of that. For here, author/playwright Israel Horovitz (creator of both Author! Author! and
François Truffaut's homage to Hitchcock makes a stunning Blu-ray debut from Twilight Time.
While it is frequently reiterated that we are unable to take it with us, it should be noted that we do manage to take some of it along into the next life. No, I'm not attempting to wax some fruity spiritualism on you here (that's a job for those weird people handing out pamphlets in parking lots to tackle), I'm actually referring to things such as fashion and entertainment. As each craze fades out, it carries a little bit with it over into the new (usually worse) fad. In the world of music, we witnessed punk music (the real kind,
Quite possibly the only movie in history to partly focus on cycling and not suck in the process.
Following the near collapse of the American film industry somewhere between the end of the '60s and the beginning of the '70s - a semi-catastrophe brought on (mostly) thanks to lavishly over-budget and egotistical studio productions, a war in Vietnam, and something the history books refer to as the "Hippie Movement" - the few folks who were still going to the picture show seemed to demand more realism. That, or the once lavish budgets that used to be handed out to filmmakers at the drop of a hat, and which were now being frequently slashed by some now very nervous
Twilight Time continues its legacy of giving a damn about Woody Allen's classic, truly good movies.
As a reasonably mature adult male who has been involved in an unending war with depression and mood swings since he was but a wee lad, I know how easy it is to seek solace from the cinema. To find a sense of purpose within the imaginary realms as designed by far-greater dreamers. I have danced the same steps as timeless American icons Fred Astaire and Gene Kelly. I have romantically wooed the jaw-dropping charms of international B movie actresses like Barbara Bouchet and Margaret Lee. Espionage? Exploration? Elimination? I've done it all just by becoming immersed in a movie,
Thoroughly mindless entertainment. Minus the whole "entertainment" part.
A few years ago, I had the misfortune of seeing the last movie in Universal's Scorpion King legacy (which was itself a secondary subsidiary to the studio's ongoing attempt at burying Stephen Sommers' career, and was something that officially started immediately after he made his debut film with 1989's Catch Me If You Can). Fortunately, I don't remember a single solitary frame of the previous entry. In fact, I had to look up an old review of mine (published elsewhere) just to make sure that I actually did see it; it was that memorable. Well, once more, the powers that
A movie about people who are lost made by people who couldn't find their asses with both hands and flashlights.
Reaching out to a target audience with a speciality motion picture is never an easy task, particularly when said target audience is intelligent or - at the very least - has expectations that scale only slightly above "public access TV production values." First, let's turn back the clock a bit to the original filmic adaptation of Left Behind (subtitled The Movie, in case its target audience was unable to distinguish the difference between a paperback book and a videocassette - which certainly wasn't insulting to their intelligence in any way) from 2000 starring former teen heartthrob-turned-evangelist Kirk Cameron. Based on
From Streisand to Stone, controversies to conniving, this sextet offers it all.
Since the dawn of mankind itself, there have been notable examples of individuals willing to break any rules that have been established, question whatever authority may be in command, and just try to have a good time in general - especially when it's all-but forbidden to do so. And that motif of rebellious folk is in fine form in the latest collection of movies from Twilight Time. Released in late December, this batch of six films ranges from highly acclaimed classics to somewhat forgotten features from yesteryear, as directed by the likes of Stanley Kramer, Oliver Stone, Mike Nichols, and
With so much work invested into a weird little gimmick flick starring Denholm Elliott and Peter Lorre, what's there not to love?
Three-dimensional television sets with Ultra High-Definition 4K resolution. A kajllion-and-one useless apps for our increasingly useless smartphones. A vast array of challenging social networks that only go to make people vastly socially-challenged. With some new revolutionary thing we allegedly cannot live without coming 'round the bend every other week, it's easy to not fully realize we live in a world that is literally littered with nothing more than a shitload of gimmicks. More than half a century ago, studios and distributors alike were also worried the public might soon stoop so low as to pick up a book and learn
After seeing this, I can see why Kevin Smith has never been allowed to make a Batman or Superman movie.
There was once a point in history where many of us, myself included, felt Kevin Smith had potential. After hopping aboard the underground film movement of the '90s, the New Jersey-born comic book geek-turned-filmmaker made a big splash with Clerks (1994), next alienated critics while delighting audiences with the very crude comedy hit Mallrats the following year. But hey, that was 1995, and genuinely monumental motion pictures were few and far in-between. Next, Smith made a compromise: he delighted his critics as he alienated his audience with the not-so-romantic dramedy Chasing Amy (1997); a title that has since become the
The Warner Archive Collection presents a quartet of Pre-Code classics that delve into vice with very little virtue.
Once more, the guys and gals at the Warner Archive - along with the folks at the Turner Entertainment Corp. - have assembled another collection of rarities from the early '30s, made at a time before the Hays Office established its moralistic Production Code upon the film industry. Prior to when the Code was fully enforced in 1934, filmmakers were able to get away with quite a bit more than they would in later decades. Skin, sin, and a frequently-seen seductive grin lured audiences into theaters as easily as the various elements of vice (often without a whole heck of
The Warner Archive Collection re-releases several classic favorites in 16x9 widescreen.
As some of you may recall, there was once a time when television sets were great big, bulky, boxy contraptions that weighed more than an entire average American family did immediately after eating Thanksgiving dinner. Shortly before the manufacturers of these electronic babysitters began making the lightweight widescreen models we know and (possibly) love, the world was introduced to DVD; a revolutionary new home video concept wherein we could finally see digital transfers of movies we (potentially) adored in their original theatrical aspect ratios. Sadly, some early DVD releases did not bring us the widescreen video presentations we had hoped
The Warner Archive Collection breathes new life into the innovative classic.
While it certainly wasn't the first motion picture adaptation of the Oscar Wilde classic, MGM's 1945 version of The Picture of Dorian Gray did have the honor of not only being the first feature-length American version of the tale, as well as the first to employ the use of color when black-and-white was the norm (during the war, even). Fortunately, Albert Lewin's masterpiece does so sparingly. Reserving the bulk of his (black-and-white) stock so that cinematographer Harry Stradling may deliver some truly atmospheric noir-like (and Oscar winning) photography, Lewin then dazzles viewers with four very brief - but simplistically powerful
So, anyone for a nuclear holocaust, then?
Not many people may remember this, but there was a lot of nuclear war going back in the '80s. Big time. All over the place! Tensions between the various powers in the east and the west began to swelter, and James Bond and many other agents from the free(er) parts of the world were rushed into action. Sometimes they succeeded, making the way for artists like Rita Coolidge to gain a hit single out of the deal in the process. Other times, however, things failed with the utmost of (in)efficiency. The world was destroyed, time and time again, inevitably paving
Wait, THIS lost to "The Barbarian Invasions"? THIS?!
It's always interesting to see the similarities between samurai films and the western. Both genres have served to inspire filmmakers from either corner of the world intermittently over the years. Sergio Leone adapted the spaghetti western classic (For) A Fistful of Dollars from Akira Kurosawa's Yojimbo - a tale that itself borrowed elements from an American film noir, The Glass Key. Likewise, The Seven Samurai became The Magnificent Seven, while Sergio Corbucci's cult classic Django (the real one, kids) and just about every other influential European western eventually wound up receiving an Eastern treatment in Takashi Miike's Sukiyaki Western Django.
Elvis Presley's best performance? Well, if such a thing was ever possible, this is most assuredly it.
It wasn't until earlier this year, when Twilight Time released the happy, family-friendly flick Follow That Dream to Blu-ray, that I finally, willingly  sat through an entire Elvis Presley film from beginning to end. Even then, I had to occasionally resist the urge to lift up my couch in order to read the fine print on those labels that tell me not to remove them just so I could keep my spirits up. And that is probably because there is this weird misconception about Elvis movies ingrained into my head (which is a fairly common credence that could
The Warner Archive Collection re-releases the long out of print Paramount sets featuring 13 of the duo's best-known works.
While they were once as easy to find as a pregnant woman in a maternity ward, the world of comedy duos has almost faded into obscurity since the latter part of the '50s. One one side of the ring, there were the reigning kings of comedy themselves, Bud Abbott and Lou Costello, who had served both their public and country alike during World War II by making a slew of patriotic wartime comedies while raising a whopping (estimated) $85 million in war bonds. Alas, a very poor choice in accountants found the Internal Revenue Service pursuing the long-standing, legendary two-man
Stanley Kramer's powerhouse post-World War II courtroom drama gets another chance to shock and delight via Twilight Time.
We've all heard the saying "War is Hell" a million times over. Hell, there are probably over a million films that have been manufactured from all corners of the world throughout the last millennia or so that have done their very best to convey this message unto viewers. Sometimes, these stories serve as clever warning devices to remind mankind of its own mortality (and immaturity, despite its age). Other times, you just wind up with a great big mess of a cheap exploitation flick on your hands. And then there are those rare, infrequently-made movies that look past the conflicts
The last six films of the original Dr. Kildare series eerily foreshadows one of contemporary television's most popular medical dramas.
In many respects, MGM's original Dr. Kildare Movie Collection essentially served as filmdom's first hospital show. Granted, the series was one of a theatrical nature; although television did in fact exist when the series was born, it had not yet been molded into what it would become in the '50s. Nevertheless, the various storylines and recurring supporting characters the nine films had gives the old fashioned film franchise a very likeable "modern" quality when viewed today (as it did way back when, I should add). But the series only grew to foreshadow television after its star, Lew Ayres, left the
The only film to ever have employed a couple of Zombies as a Greek chorus hits High-Def courtesy Twilight Time.
As soon as the opening credits of Bunny Lake is Missing fade in following the perfunctory Columbia lady logo, it's obvious that this is an Otto (Anatomy of a Murder) Preminger film. A hand reaches up onto the completely black screen, ripping pieces of the darkness away to show us just enough for the incredible iconic work of Saul Bass to reveal the men and women responsible for this magnificent work of cinematic art. Likewise, director Preminger only shows us fractions of the light throughout this psychological thriller revolving around a missing child in London during the revolutionary mid '60s
Kirk Douglas, Nick Adams, and Robert Walker, Jr. star in a well-made Korean War drama from George Seaton.
George Seaton had quite the varied career. Starting out as a struggling playwright and actor within the theater, the future screenwriter and director also became the first nationally-heard actor to portray The Lone Ranger in 1933, lated alleging he invented the famous "Hi-yo Silver!" catchphrase due to his own inability to whistle. Landing a job at MGM courtesy the legendary Irving Thalberg, Seaton's wit and ability to think up a good gag soon caught the attention of Groucho Marx, and he helped contribute heavily to the jokes seen and heard in A Night at the Opera, and would earn the
The Warner Archive presents the second of three strikes for Jack Webb's failed franchise.
Way back during those far-off days of the very early 1990s (he said in jest), I found myself - along with my peers - choosing an assignment for English from a number of eclectic books our teacher had on-hand. And while my report of The Communist Manifesto, wherein I commented Karl Marx was of no relation to Groucho, Harpo, Chico or Zeppo, was a deliberately dumb affair, it could not compare to the smirking delight that set over my face when the morons on the other side of the room - the "cool, popular" kids, if you will - decided
A taut, well-crafted Victorian Era heist thriller that forged the way for many crime dramas to come.
Though he had a relatively noted - if short-lived - career in the Hollywood limelight as an A picture actor, it's sometimes hard to imagine the late Aldo Ray as a serious performer when one notes the amount of motion pictures he made in his later years that were preceded B, X, Z, and just about every other letter of the alphabet. Today, he is probably best remembered for not being remembered at all - with an entire legion of mostly clueless Quentin Tarantino followers assuming Brad Pitt's Inglourious Basterds character, Lt. Aldo Raine, is merely just a similarly sounding
Twilight Time brings us a much-needed High-Def release of the Burt Lancaster/John Frankenheimer classic.
November 2014 could truly be one of the most auspiciously underestimated months in the history of home video releases. One of two significantly incredible reasons for my assessment owes to a recent Warner release that many of us never, ever thought we would see, Batman: The Complete Television Series - which not only made it to video in a form other than our terrible VHS recordings from TV, but on Blu-ray even. The second reason this month deserves an asterisk in the annals of history is warranted by the High-Def home video debut of another fellow named after a small
The controversial actor goes from motherless juvenile delinquent to prison revolutionary in these two New-to-DVD rarities from the Warner Archive.
While Robert Blake is unlikely to be on everyone's list of people to meet, the one-time child actor was one of the few of his kind to actually make a successful transition from being a kiddie icon to an adult star. And, while the spotlights for both his professional and private lives have certainly faded out, Blake - one of the few still living actors to have starred in the original Our Gang / Little Rascals short subjects - has nevertheless left a lengthy legacy behind. Starting out as a young doe-eyed Bobby Blake (as he was then known as,
The Fox TV Archives makes its debut with an anticipated re-release the out-of-print TV favorite.
Since the building of the Manufactured on Demand bandwagon, nearly every major studio in the home video industry has begun the seemingly-endless process of making hundreds (if not thousands) of rarely-seen movies and television shows available to the public upon order. The process has also enabled certain moratorium materials to be put back into print. And with the debut of Fox Home Entertainment's new MOD sub-label "20th Century Fox TV Archives", fans of the classic adventure/western program Daniel Boone are now able to fill in the gap left behind by the inefficiency and abrupt departure of two minor distributors from
The first film to have been constructed entirely out of B roll footage finally comes to DVD.
Towards the end of his career in the motion picture industry, director Richard L. Bare - the sole individual behind the camera for virtually every episode of Green Acres ever as well as the same man who penned and directed the Joe McDoakes series of theatrical shorts - hit upon an idea. As he looked down the freeway, he noticed it took on the appearance of being split into two separate screens by the divider. It was then, according to legend, that the filmmaker who had spent darn near the entire span of his métier in Hollywood directing comedies and
Joan Crawford takes the wheel in a classic thriller that has received a startling new HD release from the Warner Archive.
It's always the same. One minute, you're wandering aimlessly down the surprisingly empty streets of Los Angeles, searching for a man, mistaking every other stranger you meet for said individual, startling hard-working American folks by meandering into coffee shops and acting strange. The next minute, they're hauling your ass into the psychiatric ward. Well, maybe that's not a common occurrence for you, but I'm sure I have come closer to being in the exact same predicament Joan Crawford finds herself in at the beginning of her 1947 starring role Possessed than most other people who have would freely admit to.
A cocky, real jerk of a truck driver learns the hard way about the evils of milk in this weird, uneven 1934 feature.
Chalk up yet another victory for the Warner Archive, boys and girls. Not only have they given us a new stellar Blu-ray release of Yankee Doodle Dandy recently, but they've filled in several other missing James Cagney film gaps as well, including the riotous comedy Boy Meets Girl with Pat O'Brien. And here, with The St. Louis Kid, I was able to at last pin the tail on the donkey of something else. As a youth, one of the many videocassettes in my always-expanding library was a cheapo blooper tape from an illustrious label that at one point went by
Film Chest brings us a "digitally transferred" re-release of the Public Domain cult classic. But just what exactly does "digitally transferred" mean?
After Toho unleashed its monstrous creation Gojira upon the world in 1954 - itself a metaphor to the bombing of Hiroshima and the radioactive horrors that were born that day towards the end of World War II - America couldn't help but jump in on the fun (again). And so, one mutated critter after another began to emerge, whether it be a creature spawned from the uncharted depths of the Salton Sea due to nuclear testing, alien monsters from the vast vastness of vast space come to teach us a lesson, or the (sometimes) accidental creation of something from some
James Cagney gets born of the fourth of July for the Warner Archive's dynamic HD release of the already exceptional George M. Cohan biopic.
Generally, as I have pointed out in a previous article, biographical motion pictures are something of specialty items - usually commissioned, produced and released in order to cash-in on the death of a celebrity. But in the instance of 1942's Yankee Doodle Dandy, we have a biopic that is a whole different affair altogether. Although the subject of the picture itself, the iconic patriotic American Broadway composer/playwright/performer George M. Cohan - conceived and brought to the attention of studio executives by the man himself (!) - was still alive at the time the film was made, he did not fall
From lite BDSM affairs of the late '60s to bloody splatter flicks of the mid '80s, here's a little bit of everything from one of cinema's most inimitably imitative industries.
The bulk of Italian cinema is generally recognized by the average American viewer as little more than a number of classic neorealism features. Maybe a mafia movie made by a US filmmaker of Italian descent. And the occasional film by that guy who paved the way for a classic Tom Cruise interview by going berserk and climbing over (and atop) seats at the Oscars that one time. But for the cult/trash film enthusiast, Italy is perhaps the best known supplier of gory guilty pleasures, sinfully sultry sleazefests, and some of the most rockin' (or at least completely funky and groovy)
James Cagney and Pat O'Brien pull no punches in this biting satire of the Golden Age of Hollywood.
When one hears a saying like "boy meets girl", an instant (usually negative) image of a sappy Hollywood romantic comedy - or worse, a sappy coming-of-age sitcom - is almost immediately conjured up. Fortunately, the 1938 satire Boy Meets Girl more than exceeds any preconceived notions those of us who have lived that same Hollywood film ten times before (thank you, Mr. Bowie) may hold. At the same time, Boy Meets Girl represents two styles of comedy we genuinely do not see in the world of American film anymore: the screwball comedy (which essentially died in the '40s) and the
Olivia de Havilland encounters the plights and perils of a gold rush, a wartime rush, and rushed productions in a trio of forgotten films.
In the middle of October 2014, Olivia de Havilland found herself having outlived her frequent, iconic on-screen romantic interest from motion pictures of the '30s and '40s, one Mr. Errol Flynn, by five-and-a-half decades. Oddly enough, despite the fact that she retired from the film industry nearly thirty years after her famous leading hero passed away in 1959, Ms. de Havilland nevertheless managed to tally up the same amount of acting roles for film and television as he did. And yet, despite a relatively brief legacy in Hollywood - a career that waned in the '50s due to motherhood and
The Warner Archive presents vintage film enthusiasts with one of the few surviving films of actress Billie Dove.
An early "all-talking" drama developed for audiences before the Hays Office sucked all the life out of the business, One Night at Susie's not only gives us a grand glimpse at an infant Hollywood taking its first steps, but is one of the few films starring Billie Dove to have survived over the years. A highly adored actress of both the stage and the screen, Dove made several dozen movies in the Silent Era, retiring from the business shortly after the Sound Era came to be. Sadly, most of her legacy was erased from history by a studio fire, so
They don't make 'em like this anymore. And an entire nation - if not universe - can sleep soundly with that assurance.
Considering the seemingly-infinite amount of musicals Hollywood once proudly cranked out once the members of the industry figured out how to add sound to motion pictures, it's somewhat difficult to imagine that there was a time wherein the very public such items were manufactured for rolled their eyes in discontent at the thought of seeing yet another film with singing and dancing. After all, they could just go see a Broadway play if they wanted to see that type of tripe. And yet the suits in Tinseltown insisted on making musicals; often shooting movie picture adaptations of the same Broadway
A nice change of pace action/thriller that will hopefully inspire others to emulate instead of imitate.
Once upon a time, many moons ago, the American western found itself in dire straits. Movies followed the same regular routine to the point where they began to resemble little more than copies of xeroxed duplicates of toner-based facsimiles reproduced solely to sell the goods. It wasn't until some fresh blood from our Italian brethren was added into the fray - or spilled into the dust, if you prefer - that things started to change; the key ingredient there being violence itself. Sadly, it was only a matter of time before competitors started to repeat the process - choosing to
Robert Mitchum and Arthur Kennedy are two wild studs that only Susan Hayward can handle.
While a day at the rodeo is not typically considered to be the most interesting of settings for a motion picture outside of a weird short subject produced by folks in the midwest, there have been a few notable exceptions to shine across the silver screen from time to time. Some of you may cite Eight Seconds with former teen heartthrob Luke Perry to have been of interest. That said, the obscure '80s music lover in me will always assume you're talking about the short-lived Canadian new wave group of the same name whenever you mention said movie - for,
OK, so Randolph Scott, Bret Maverick, and The Green Hornet walk into a bar dressed as Quakers...
Towards the end of his prolific career as one of Hollywood's favorite cowboy stars, Randolph Scott was prone to signing on for the occasional odd outing in pictures. Just five years before changing his clean-cut good guy image in Sam Peckinpah's Ride the High Country, wherein the actor subsequently retired from the industry altogether, Scott found himself in a modest, somewhat offbeat Warner Bros. production entitled Shoot-Out at Medicine Bend. Though it would prove to be the final collaboration Warner Bros. had with Mr. Scott, it also highlighted several performers at the beginning of their own careers: James Garner and
The Warner Archive brings us the home video debut of an odd, early Euro western prototype.
As the middle of the 1960s approached, American cinema bid two of its mightiest moneymakers a small, barely-audible adieu. First and foremost was the genre of classic western film, which had been done so many times since the motion picture industry had established its firm roots in Hollywood that studio executives eventually had to come up with box office ploys such as CinemaScope in order to keep audiences coming in instead of tuning in to watch Rawhide at home on the TV set. The second was that of CinemaScope itself; a procedure that every other studio had taken to copying
Twilight Time's new Blu-ray release is most assuredly the best possible way to experience this underrated gem.
With a story focusing on a journalist, a photographer, and a revolution, Twilight Time's release of Roger Spottiswoode's 1983 drama Under Fire sounds like a title that should have been released with their September 2014 line-up - as it would have made a great pairing with Oliver Stone's Salvador. But while both movies are based on actual events involving members of the news media becoming involved in a dangerous rebellion between indigenous oppressed folk and corrupt politicians, Spottiswoode's elegantly crafted 1983 film graciously succeeds in rising above just about everything Stone bombarded his viewers with three years later. Plus, not
BBC Video releases the earliest and latest seasons of the long-running crime drama series.
In 1996, the BBC debuted a new contender into an arena of crime dramas that was already heavily populated by a venerable assortment of combatants both old and new. Silent Witness certainly wasn't the first series of its kind, but it has nevertheless managed to cope with the ever-changing world it is based upon - all the while making a number of substantial alterations within its own fictional settings. Though the elements of adult-themed story devices and the sight of a rotting cadaver is something television producers across The Pond have embraced ever since they determined they could get away
Those lovable stinkin' hippies return in a compressed, single-disc/three-feature release for those of you on the cheap.
Two years ago, Lionsgate Home Entertainment unveiled the first of a popular cinematic trilogy from not only another time, but for an entirely different kind of viewer altogether. 1975's The Adventures of the Wilderness Family offered up a unique form of motion picture escapism for moviegoers who had helped to bring the increasingly-overpopulated and polluted world to where it currently was. The tale told of the Robinsons, a family of four - father Skip, mother Pat, sister Jenny, and brother Toby - who decided their final tweet to civilization was to be "#OverIt", and promptly set out to live in
The Warner Archive brings us six rare pre-Code shorts featuring The Three Stooges, including a previously thought-to-be-lost short rediscovered in 2013.
The early filmic legacy of The Three Stooges - or the comedy troupe of Howard, Fine, and Howard, as they were sometimes known - is quite the bittersweet affair when viewed and compared to the later output the iconic team has since gone down in history for. Beginning via several different incarnations as stooges for vaudevillian Ted Healy (wherein the word "stooge" was used to define someone who played an audience member until called up onto stage), the antics of the leader and his outrageous flunkies became prime moving picture material fodder when representatives of an infant film industry started
Martin Sheen is in trouble, for he does not practice Santería. Nor does he have a crystal ball, for that matter.
Today's younger generation of photoplay viewers probably only recognizes actor Martin Sheen as the father of Charlie and/or "the guy who starred in that one Vietnam movie with the boat and the napalm". An even smaller demographic will be able to go a step further on that front and classify him as the brother of cult B movie actor Joe Estevez. (Emilio never gets mentioned, and rightfully so.) In fact, it's almost hard to believe now that there was once a time that Marty was something of a formidable name on a movie marquee before he started to appear in
Universal unveils the HD debuts of four of the iconic director's works in this eight-film set.
With the fourth quarter upon us and the holiday season that comes with it closing in at an ever-alarming speed, it's the perfect time once again for studios to assemble various collections for established home video collectors and newbies alike. But whereas some sets will shamelessly repackage the same movies that have been released individually over the years, enclosing them in a shiny new shell for those whose are easily distracted by such things, others actually make their new releases of older catalogue titles worthwhile by including an assortment of movies that are actually new to the format in question.
That smudged printing on Jeff Bridges and Kiefer Sutherland's résumés can be seen in a much clearer light now.
Once upon a time, I received a copy of an Italian-made English-language movie that had been dubbed into Italian before somebody who obviously did not learn the King's language as their primary form of verbal communication next created English subtitles translated from the Italian translation. There was also an instance in photoplay history where an adaptation of Shakespeare was produced for German television; the Bard's original work transcribed into the local Germanic tongue, only to wind up dubbed back into English - from the German conversion, nonetheless - for a subsequent (and probably poorly-received) television airing in the United States
The Warner Archive re-releases a highly enjoyable epic of a box office bomb from 1938.
As anyone who was taught in grade school about what a great benefactor Christopher Columbus was to the Natives on the New World has since gone on to discover, the telling of history is not always about the facts. And while a bit of whitewashing is absolutely unacceptable when it comes to one's education, taking such liberties generally makes a big screen motion picture more favorable to people whose only purpose is to be entertained. Ironically, the very same audience who drooled over Samuel Goldwyn's 1939 adaptation of Wuthering Heights - a film that stayed heavily from its own source
Twilight Time brings vintage horror movie lovers a misaligned tale of reincarnation and possession.
The mark of a new decade brings with it much anticipation of something new. Something special. A particular type of renovation that will outdo the victories and faults of its predecessor, whether it be in the world of fashion, music, and film. And the '70s definitely ushered in a venerable revolution in all three of those departments, from incredible (and somewhat incorrigible) clothing, to that funky music a certain unknown audience member shouted for white boy Rob Parissi to play, and right down to an entirely new era of the moving pictures: creepy kids. Though the concept of a child
Twilight Time delivers a dazzling HD re-release of the cult favorite '80s remake and it's swell, kids!
Though many a motion picture updating replete with a bit of blood founds its way into theaters during the '60s and '70s, it truly wasn't until the 1980s rolled around when things really started to change in the field of horror remakes. Mainly, these reworkings occasionally boasted not only a vastly reimagined storyline, but usually included an impressive array of special effects ranging from optical to make-up. Sadly, these things have been replaced by CGI and - worse - an endless supply of dulled-down, MPAA-friendly lifelessness in the countless array of contemporary moving picture letdowns that befall us today. A
Because who doesn't long for a BBC drama that includes gay zombie love?
As the curtain rang on the previous, initial season of the BBC's In the Flesh last year, its fate was entirely undetermined. Was the show that actually succeeded in making the overused element of the reanimated dead going to be given a second chance at life (pun possibly intended), or would it be permitted to simply pass on gracefully in its sleep? Well, as they say in the industry, "You can't keep a good corpse down", and it seemed only natural that In the Flesh return to right all of the many, many wrongs would-be filmmakers and the trendy hipster
The criminally neglected cult ABC TV series starring the late great Robert Urich returns courtesy of the Warner Archive.
Anyone who has so much as flipped on a television set once for even only five minutes is probably quite well aware that detective shows are easier to find than one's own ass with the assistance of both hands and a flashlight. Now, when it comes down to finding a good detective series, however, things can become rather tricky. It certainly isn't easy in this day and age, what with their being seventeen kajillion different television channels full of tripe at our disposal. Believe it or not, it was even harder back when we only had three networks to choose
The film that made you rue the day Los Lobos first started saturating radio airplay returns in High-Definition.
For my money, biographical motion pictures are often comparable to those certain speciality stores in strip malls only a small reserve of individuals really go to. Cartridge World. Yankee Candle. The As Seen On TV Store. You know the type of retail outlet I refer to. You even drive past them on a regular basis, occasionally taking the liberty of briefly peeking through their windows to see if there's actually anything interesting in there, whether or not they truly do have customers or are just cleverly disguised another drug front, or if the employees of the outfit are having crazy
A failure upon its release, this epic adventure makes a beautiful HD comeback via the Warner Archive Collection.
When Blake Edwards departed from this world in late 2010, he left behind a lasting and versatile legacy of contributions to cinema. From the hard-hitting drama of Days of Wine and Roses (a serious look at alcoholism made during the early '60s, when civilized man enjoyed a steak and martini for breakfast), to a couple of noted musicals with his wife Julie Andrews (Darling Lili and Victor/Victoria), and even the odd thriller like the underrated Experiment in Terror (which Twilight Time was kind enough to issue on Blu-ray in early 2013), Edwards tried his hand at many different types of
A rarely-seen bad movie becomes even worse thanks to a marred English audio track.
The essence of classic German expressionist cinema - particularly in the field of horror - is something many imitate, but which few can respectfully replicate in the long run. Indeed, director Werner Herzog created his own horror classic in 1979 with Nosferatu the Vampyre, his artistic take on F.W. Murnau's now-iconic silent 1922 masterpiece, Nosferatu, eine Symphonie des Grauens. With the legendary visionary helming and the legendary creepiness and craziness (both onscreen and off) of his certifiably-insane lead actor, the infamous Klaus Kinski - who superbly mimicked the mannerisms of Murnau's mysterious monster (offscreen as well as on), Max Schreck
The Warner Archive presents two tales where the heat is hot and the ground is dry, but the air is full of sound.
In the mid 1920s, composer Sigmund Romberg collaborated with the lyricists at large Oscar Hammerstein II, Otto Harbach, and Frank Mandel to create what would become a Broadway hit - The Desert Song. Inspired by the 1925 uprising of a group of Moroccan rebels, known as the Riffs, the musical play was later turned into a successful 1929 film rife with the kind of sexual innuendo and lewd humor (the kind you'd expect to find in a project that hailed from the decade we commonly refer to today as the Roaring Twenties) that was present in the original play. The
Indie label Intervision presents American viewers with a collection of classic previews that has been out in the UK for over half of a decade now.
Sometimes it just takes a while for things to cross The Pond. Seven years ago, the April 2007 release of the Robert Rodriguez/Quentin Tarantino flop Grindhouse - an homage to the exploitation double features of yesteryear (which was a great idea, but which its own target audience ironically failed to comprehend the meaning of) - caused a tidal wave of low-budget DVD labels, each of whom had their own assortment of classic exploitation movies at their disposal (sometimes even legally!), to issue forth their own double (and sometimes more) feature discs. The intent of which was to cash-in on the
Imagine a 108-minute film shamelessly and mercilessly expanded into an unwanted, unnecessary, uncalled-for ten-hour-long series.
At some point in time, it seems rather inevitable that a filmmaker may return to a completed project from their early years. Sometimes, these visual poets do so solely with the intent of correcting a few things that have irked them since then (see: Ridley Scott, George Lucas). In other instances, they revisit their work to expand and completely alter the entire storyline - which, in-turn, changes the very universe the original item in question was set in (see: Ridley Scott, George Lucas). And while those viewers who predominantly consider themselves to be of the artistically inclined nature may see
Sam Peckinpah sets his bloody sights on a tale of covert government agents and stealthy ninja assassins. What’s not to love there?
Sam Peckinpah's legacy on the world of film was something most people in the industry certainly never saw coming. Consistent undermined by studio executives who sought to correct what they perceived to be filmmaking flaws, the director of such now-legendary classics like Straw Dogs, Junior Bonner, and The Getaway usually wound up having his films re-cut without his permission. Combined with his own flawed human nature - alcoholism, substance abuse, and the ever-troublesome depression - eventually turned a promising talent into that washed-up talent no one would want to hire. (Also see: Bela Lugosi.) Yet, Peckinpah's films are widely regarded
Twilight Time revives the controversial director's first (notable) film back for another haunting round.
Prior to becoming a standout name with the international success of Platoon in 1987, Oliver Stone was only known for directing several films. Two of them were B-grade horror movies, the generally unseen Seizure from 1974, and the usually laughed-at fiasco The Hand from 1981. It was with his third directorial feature, however - the 1986 Hemdale Film release Salvador - that Stone, a man who has potentially passed one illegal drug too many through his system over the years, finally found something he was good at: a politically charged war drama that swerved in and out of reality, whilst
A rare type of film that precariously teeters between sleazy exploitative trash and fine underrated art.
Prior to her success as the best-selling writer of the "Alphabet" mysteries which have gone to be a vital part of practically every little old lady's library, author Sue Grafton penned a number of television scripts and published several novels that went largely unnoticed by the masses. Among those was a 1969 book entitled The Lolly-Madonna War: a tale of mistaken identity, Southern inhospitality, redneck wars, and the madness contained therein that, interestingly enough, was never published in America. Similarly, the 1973 MGM film adaptation of the story, Lolly-Madonna XXX was doomed to being mostly ignored, heavy criticized, and consistently
Universal Classic Monsters: Complete 30-Film Collection (1931-1956) DVD Review: Too Little, Too Late
Cinema's iconic creature features are re-released yet again in another SD-DVD set.
When I was just a tiny little lad, I - like many other small children - had an intense fear of monsters, the sight of blood, and scary movies in general. People find that hard to believe these days, especially seeing as how I proudly own a copy of Cannibal Holocaust on Blu-ray in my collection, and have probably viewed just about every style of gory, scary, and horrible (in every way) monster movie imaginable at this point in time. In fact, it's safe to say that I've grown somewhat immune to that variety of film, despite my nearly lifelong
The Warner Archive unleashes the last 12 outings of what was arguably the greatest, longest-running comedy series ever made.
Nearly two years ago, the Warner Archive released a multi-disc set containing what had previously been something of a Holy Grail amongst classic B comedy lovers: The Bowery Boys: Volume One. The following year brought forth the next two volumes, teasing fans with the prospect of a fourth and final set that would essentially serve as the closest thing to a definitive collection ever - thus enabling anyone who still held on to a few shoddy bootlegged 16mm television prints a chance to upgrade once and for all. Well, it took nearly a year for that to become a reality,
Sporting great battles, amazing costumes, and a fresh take, this incarnation of the Alexandre Dumas tale has a lot of potential.
As I had iterated in a somewhat recent article, there are really only a venerable handful of classic literary characters and stories that seem to re-emerge in order to be retold time and time again upon small and big screens alike. And there is certainly little doubt in my own mind that the classic Alexandre Dumas 1844 work Les Trois Mousquetaires falls somewhere at the very top of that limited grouping; its immortal characters having appeared in many various adaptations over the last couple of centuries, along with the particular tale itself. Granted, some of us may be prone to
Recommended. Even if we don't get to hear Christopher Walken recite Shakespeare.
Despite the claims of many an adult website author, bigger is not always better. Take the contemporary action film genre, for example: things must explode continuously, actors must shout a lot, cameras must shake wherever and whenever possible in order to convey a general feeling of queasiness, and any and all probability or indication of intelligence must be sucked out of the room immediately. Sure, it sells, but at what cost to the view with a brain? Alas, whenever somebody tries to construct an action flick that isn't completely braindead, it usually flops at the box office when the disappointed
Alan Alda and Patrick McGoohan portray Southerners in this tale from the disgraced director of the television remake of Catch-22.
Essentially, there are two types of hicksploitation genres: you either have a group of Yankees wandering into the South only to be terrorized by a group of rampaging rednecks - be they alive, dead, or somewhere in-between - or one bears witness to a war between two factions of undereducated (but nevertheless cunning) mountain men who go toe-to-toe over something like women or whiskey. But all of those unofficial rules are tossed out the window when it comes to the 1970 film adaptation of Elmore Leonard's novel The Moonshine War - which, despite the seemingly self-explanatory title, tells an enthralling
Omar Sharif as Che Guevara. Jack Palance as Fidel Castro. A match made in bad movie heaven.
Every now and then, a motion picture comes along that is so positively astute in its own sense of being, so sure it knows what it is and why it's there, that it becomes painfully clear there isn't a single soul within the confines of the cosmos who could tell you what the hell was going on there. Rather, movies such as these tend to ignore all fundamental elements of filmmaking (i.e. consumer demand and/or a plot) boil down to a quip British comedian Eddie Izzard once made regarding the fine art of making speeches: that people only pay 70%
Synapse Films brings us the definitive transfer of the classic Canadian slasher flick.
Have you ever found yourself in the middle of a classic slasher flick, only to wonder "Man, I sure wish they would have included a lot of disco tunes on the soundtrack"? Or perhaps you are of the persuasion that would find themselves in the midst of a disco movie before they began to envision how much better it would be were there people getting slashed? Well, either way, the 1980 American/Canadian slasher film Prom Night proves that you can have your cake and eat it too - as it not only features murder, but disco dancing as well. And
Watergate set in a convent. Seriously.
There truly is no separation of church and state when it comes to a movie like Nasty Habits, a late '70s comedy that remains in a classification of its own to this day. Inspired by the famously notorious exploits of a certain tricky American president (read: Watergate), this off-the-wall entirely different take on the nunsploitation subgenre centers on a little-known abbey in Philadelphia chock-full of vice and corruption. When its reigning head abbess dies before she has a chance to officially make her chosen successor public, Sister Alexandra (Glenda Jackson) decides the best way to assure her proper place is
David Niven and Teresa Wright headline a WWII romantic drama about lost love.
Keeping up with their brief, recent Samuel Goldwyn/David Niven motif, the Warner Archive Collection has re-issued the 1948 romantic drama oddity Enchantment, previously available on DVD from MGM. Based on the 1945 novel Take Three Tenses: A Fugue in Time by Rumer Godden (who also wrote the original literary version of Black Narcissus, which had been made into a now-classic film in 1947), Enchantment brings us a rather unique take on that which a philosopher named Jones once referred to as "an everlasting love" - wherein the narrative takes on a sort of nonlinear approach to inform us, the lovelorned
Two rare versions of the same story about an even rarer combination of English gentleman, jewel thief, and cricketer.
There have been many notable, historically celebrated examples of a literary character enjoying a long and happy life (or death) over the course of several decades (or even centuries) via not only their original work, but through the lucrative cash-cow known as franchising as well. But for every Sherlock Holmes, Tarzan, or Dracula, there is a staggering amount of lesser-known fictional entities that ultimately failed to make the grade within the grand scheme of things. In fact, it's quite frightening to think of how many once-briefly-popular imaginary men and women (and to some degree, those who would have to mark
The very epitome of film noir - and the femme fatale that goes with it - receives a jaw-dropping HD upgrade from the Warner Archive Collection.
Some things simply aren't easy to capture. Bigfoot. Blood from a stone. Bones in ice cream. And of course, the proverbial lightning in a bottle many have alluded to throughout the years in an attempt to confuse those cerebrally challenged individuals who would only wonder why anyone would be foolish enough to hold up a glass container in a thunderstorm like a complete and total fool. Nonetheless, certain things are likely in the world of film, particularly when the timing is just right. In the instance of the 1947 RKO film Out of the Past, we are able to bear
Two low-key, very sincere movies about everyday average people get a High-Def release from Twilight Time.
If there's one thing you may have noticed amidst all of the screaming and flailing mechanical bits in the latest Transformers film, many a movie today seems to lack a genuinely honest sense of realism. But that is not the case for British filmmaker Ken Loach, who has delivered one true-to-life motion picture after another throughout his career in an industry that strongly believes it should give the people what they want. Loach, on the other hand, gives the people what they are: people. Everyday, average people just-a-doin' their thing, come rain or shine, good or bad, do or die.
Few men will lay their life on the line, but Joe E. Brown is one of 'em in this Vitaphone rarity.
Eighty years ago, a man's reputation meant everything - whether he was a high society snob who looked down at the struggling day-to-day plight of the common people, or he was, in fact, one of those very subculture individuals who was just trying to get by. In the instance of the 1934 Vitaphone comedy A Very Honorable Guy, a luckless, hapless schmuck by the handle of "Feet" Samuels (played with a rather honorable amount of gusto by comedian Joe E. Brown) is so worried about his own reputation amongst the venerable sea of ruffians and conmen, that he would rather
A tale of "sink or swim" with Joe E. Brown and a barely-recognizable Ginger Rogers.
I suppose there's little argument to be had in the speculation that we as a species have a tendency to assign labels and stereotypes onto individuals within certain fields. And one of two prime examples that you can find in the pre-Code 1932 Vitaphone comedy You Said a Mouthful is in its very own leading comedian, the great Joe E. Brown. Thanks to our habit of socially profiling comics as unathletic eccentrics, it can really slap you in the face when you note that Brown was not only a professional baseball player in his earlier years, but that he kept
Ever wondered what cinema's most famous Dracula would have looked like wooing Thelma Todd? Look no further.
As any halfway decent stand-up artist can attest to (or at least should be perfectly aware of), the element of timing means everything in the field of comedy. The same also applies to the food and beverage industry, of course. And most probably definitely surgery too, I suppose - but I'm probably going to go way outside of my personal everyday comfort zone if I keep thinking about that. Actually, the subject of being outside of one's personal everyday comfort zone happens to be entirely relevant with the subject of this review, 1931's Joe E. Brown Vitaphone comedy Broadminded -
Even when cast as a legendary rock and roll icon, Gary Busey still looks friggin' nuts.
As I had briefly eluded to in my less-than-coherent rambling for Twilight Time's Blu-ray release of the Elvis flick Follow That Dream, some people only know a legend by the fact that they've become an icon within the world, as opposed to being remembered for what they actually did. And while the memory of Mr. Presley could very well outlive all of us, I sometimes fear that the image of Buddy Holly is perhaps only known these days to poor, misguided souls who are under the delusion that Weezer was a good group. Someday, an astronaut by the name of
One of The King's better-known lesser-known works goes HD thanks to Twilight Time.
Of the umpteen gazillion pop culture icons and references that circle throughout both my delicately-balanced conscious mind and that bizarre latent being that lies within on a regular basis like a poorly-loaded cheap washing machine, there is perhaps no name as popular as that of Elvis. In fact, so amused were a close grade-school friend and myself over the numerous tabloid headlines that popped up during the '80s amidst the Elvis Lives era, that we even started to write our own ridiculous magazines, complete with headlines such as "Elvis Possesses Woman's Toaster - And She Marries It!" and so forth
America's late wake-up call to World War II receives a lovely upgrade from Twilight Time.
Once, as a child in the 1980s, I found myself sitting up late one night watching TV. It was nothing entirely new for me - it still isn't, in fact - but the sensation I experienced that particular night was, as I became privy to what has since become an all-time favorite episode of the ingenious '60s television series The Outer Limits, "The Man Who Was Never Born". Moreover, it was then and there that the closing narration of that particular episode - as delivered by the series' "Control Voice", Vic Perrin, revealed a piece of well-written dialogue. "It is
The Secret of Santa Vittoria (1969) Blu-ray Review: Because Nothing Brings a Town Together Like Booze
Stanley Kramer's wonderful World War II comedy/drama is an absolute must-see.
As anyone who has ever seen the likes of Wall-E or even Army of Darkness knows all-too-well, heroes can sometimes spawn from the most unlikely of sources. In the case of Stanley Kramer's 1969 World War II comedy/drama The Secret of Santa Vittoria, our protagonist is essentially little more than the village idiot. As word reaches the sleepy Italian winemaking village of Santa Vittoria that Mussolini is dead and that the good, simple people of the community are now free from the tyranny of fascism, local wine seller Italo Bombolini (Anthony Quinn) ascends to the top of a water tower
The cult, short-lived, tongue-in-cheek '80s adventure/comedy finally hits home video.
Although the concept of the sword and sorcery line of adventure films had been in employment for several decades prior to the 1980s - most notably in the guise of Italian peplum movies that permitted some new stars to rise and old ones to fall just like the Roman Empire itself - it wasn't until the beginning of that magical MTV era that the subgenre reached its very own zenith. Movies such as Excalibur, The Beastmaster, and Conan the Barbarian excited many a young soul's imagination whilst simultaneously delighting the nerdy fantasies of older moviegoers whose adolescence had long been
So it's a television spin-off set between the original film and its sequel, but which wholly ignores them and is set in a weird unannounced alternate reality. Got it.
There are simply some ideas that look better on paper than they do on film. The impending JJ Abrams' HBO reboot of the 1973 creepy science fiction masterpiece Westworld - a tale written and directed by author Michael Crichton, wherein an adult theme park with eerily human-like robots goes to Hell when the androids begin to act out in a most inefficient (read: deadly) manner - certainly seems like one to me. After all, once the circuits hit the fan in the show, where can you possibly go without any hope of things becoming a bit redundant and silly? Well,
Glenn Ford sets the stage for Mel Gibson's 1996 remake (and shows that young buck how to do it in the process).
Although television was basically considered to be the bastard cousin of the cinema during the '50s, it nevertheless proved to be a successful launching point for many a future talent in the industry - as well a venerable fountain of resources whenever filmmakers needed something that wasn't so heavily copied to death in the realm of film. A relevant case in point would be an episode of the long-running (and long-defunct) anthology series The United States Steel Hour, which once presented a dramatized account of a family's reactions after they learn their child has been kidnapped. Soon after, a big-screen,
Woody Allen bridges a couple of generational gaps with a heartfelt look at growing up.
Although I was one of those kids born at the very tail-end of the Generation X era - a mark in history that rendered me sufficiently incapable of clicking with anyone from my own generation or the one that followed - I was also a kid who had that non-too-rare-these-days distinction of being raised by my grandparents, who were born at the very beginning of the Greatest Generation. Which, of course, made it even harder for me to click with people in the long run, but which I like to think was a good thing overall. In fact, having been
A natural selection of comedic evolution if ever I did see one.
The work of Charles Darwin has always proven to be a bit of a cumbersome to discuss, particularly when there are people who can't do math or have a complete lack of a brain in the room. And yet, time and time again, there have been little bits and pieces of various stuff and things throughout the bulk of history that seem to indicate Darwin's theory of natural selection is in fact alive and well. Naturally, I cannot speak for the whole of the human race - that would just be silly. And I should perhaps clarify that I am
The Warner Archive Collection unleashes a handful of B film noir tales.
Being as how I dive into a handful of Warner Archive releases on a weekly basis, I have to wonder if the powers that be pick out a certain now-neglected B movie actor to sort of "highlight within the shadows" over a period of time. That, of certain actors just happened to be in everything. One character player in particular that has been popping up in at least one selection from the assortment of titles released within the last couple of weeks is Anthony Caruso. Best known to fans of the original Star Trek series as a gangster boss in
From way out west to war in the east, a little Ladd goes a long way.
There are two things most vintage movie buffs will instantly think of whenever Alan Ladd's name is mentioned: the movie Shane and the word "short". Originally rejected by the very industry that later made him a star due to his height and extremely blonde hair, one has to wonder if that didn't spawn some sort of Napoleon Complex with the actor. Indeed, after becoming a force to be reckoned with in 1942's This Gun for Hire as a tormented assassin with a damning moral sense of right and wrong, Ladd managed to escalate to his own victory as the drifting,
Twilight Time presents us with a classic comedy from Columbia Pictures that's just as big of a laugh as its own studio head.
In 1946, writer Garson Kanin unveiled unto Manhattan a simple Broadway play entitled Born Yesterday. The story concerned a uncouth, brazen, total jerk of a millionaire - junk dealer Harry Brock - coming to Washington DC with the intent of buying a crooked congressman to work it out so that he could make even more money by screwing people over (something entirely all-too-common today). Embarrassed by the actions and words of his equally dimwitted fiancée, former chorus girl Billie Dawn, Harry hires a local reporter named Paul Verrall to educate the former showgirl with an oh-so-obnoxious voice in the hopes
The Warner Archive presents three rarities starring cinema's great swashbuckling heartbreaker.
From his breakout starring role in 1935's Captain Blood, it was quite apparent that Errol Flynn was the sort of dashing daredevil leading man who would live on forever in the hearts of film lovers around the world. And indeed he has, though he is mostly known today for his more famous work, such as his aforementioned debut and the subsequent swashbuckling adventures that followed, and even more so for his eponymous portrayal in The Adventures of Robin Hood. But, much like every recording artist/group has a number of singles to stage a Saturday night venue at a bar with,
Finally, a movie for addlebrained adolescents BY addlebrained adolescents.
Like many film critics, I frequently fantasize being on one end of the camera or another. The generalized speculation at such a regularly employed daydream is attributed to a case of us wanting to "show the professionals how to do it". Now, while the theory that many of those aforementioned professionals would be unable to tell the difference between a certain form of bodily waste and Shinola, it stands to reason that many of them are employed in their fields for a reason. And, while I quite often agree that most of the people in Hollywood don't have a clue
A coming-of-age-a-bit-late-in-life tale, served with a generous serving of Curry sauce.
I know what you're thinking: "Twilight Time finally brings us a movie from Australia, and it's about cricket?" OK, well maybe that was only what I myself was thinking as I stood there, looking down at the title in my hands with an overwhelming feeling of ambivalence, to wit I eventually loaded the 2012 Aussie comedy Save Your Legs! into my machine and sat down for something I was - as you may have already guessed - totally and completely uncertain of. Much to my surprise, it wasn't half-bad. It wasn't all that great, either - but then, this photoplay
Twilight Time gives us a much-appreciated upgrade to its previous DVD.
As someone who grew up and lived far too long in a small community, I learned that drama is often looming around every street corner in such an environment. Everyone tends to stick their noses into the private lives of others, people can have often-unfair labels assigned to them at the drop of a hat, and the absence of available women - or the promiscuity of taken ones - can literally drive some men to drink. Heck, I can proudly say that I have sadly been on the receiving end of all of those maddening elements at one point in
Synapse Films unveils a finely-aged Canadian slasher flick.
If there's one memory I tend to cherish more than most others, it would be the amount of video stores we once had in the small but very spread-out community I grew up in. Why, there were three small independently-run places in the tiny town I lived near alone in the '80s, while the "heavier populated" area had its own larger mom and pop stores. As my eye for entertainment progressively turned more toward the section marked "Horror" (which, in some places, was directly below those special ones with the very large boxes boasting peculiar imagery of people in compromising,
Surreal, creepy, and ripe with an unmistakable element of subculture artistry.
I suppose it isn't entirely out of the ordinary for a human being from any regular ol' walk of life to completely drop everything they're doing in order to pursue a dream. Some people even go as far as to film them, such as the great Akira Kurosawa - who constructed an entire feature based entirely on stories inspired by his own subconscious. And then there's the case of a Michigan man by the name of George Barry, who chose to stray from the aforementioned, seldom-traveled path in order to follow what surely must have been a feverish and utterly
Bloody Moon / Bloody Birthday / The Baby (1973) Blu-ray Reviews: Bad, Bizarre, & Bizarrely Beautiful
Severin Films re-releases three outrageous horror classics in High-Def.
Several years ago, back when I first started writing for the now defunct dvdinmypants.com, a Severin Films release landed on my doorstep one day that I was literally only able to repeatedly refer to as "heinous." The film in question was Jess Franco's Bloody Moon - a 1981 German slasher flick wherein the late Spanish director was cunningly (or perhaps "conningly") lured in by some rather shady producers who promised him the dark side of the moon - or rather, the men behind the The Dark Side of the Moon themselves, Pink Floyd, as the composers of the finished work.
For those of you who have ever wondered what would have happened had John Wayne played Harry Callahan.
Of all the many fascinating little tidbits shuffled away within the footnotes of film history, there is nothing quite as frightening as what very well could have happened had Don Siegel's now-legendary film Dirty Harry been cast with one of the original actors the film's producers approached to play the role of Harry Callahan. Among that distinguished list of honorees were Burt Lancaster, Robert Mitchum, Frank Sinatra, and The Duke himself, John Wayne. Most of the actors approached fully realized that they were perhaps just a little bit too old for the part, while others were appalled by the story
The Warner Archive brings us a sample of forgotten '80s TV crimetime drama.
Years before television viewing audiences found themselves frantically tuning in on a weekly basis to see what outrageous antics were being developed - and shown - on such groundbreaking shows as NYPD Blue and The Sopranos, ABC tried out a primetime drama that theoretically could have very well proved inspirational for those future, much more popular programs that people still remember today. In fact, there's a moment in the beginning of Our Family Honor that features starlet Daphne Ashbrook removing her shirt to expose her bare back, followed by what I could only describe as a side-of-a-side-of-a-side-of-a-sideboob shot. While this
Recoil in horror as a tale with too many flashbacks literally bores its own co-star to death.
As anyone who has ever judged a wet t-shirt contest in a college town can surely attest to, there's nothing quite like a great pairing. And the same rule applies to film - especially when the chemistry of two actors always seems to ignite a certain spark amongst audiences. A grand example of such a cinematic union would be RKO's dynamite combination of Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers, whose films together have withstood the test of time. But of course, for every grand pairing, there are usually some relatively minor fictional couplings. In fact, there's a strong possibility that there
The Warner Archive brings us the last series starring one of the industry's finest.
The late great James Garner left a lasting impression upon the world of film and television, but there was perhaps no greater character he brought to life than that of gambler Bret Maverick. Well, maybe that's not entirely true. The character of Jim Rockford could very well vie for the title too, of course - though we must take into consideration that Garner was one of four lead actors to be cast in the original Maverick, and still managed to come out ahead of the others (like there was any contest with Robert Colbert!). As the late '70s rolled around,
An assortment of adult drama featuring some of classic cinema's biggest names are now yours to enjoy on Blu-ray.
If today's box office blockbusters are capable of delivering any kind of message at all, it would be that a vast majority of moviegoers seem to prefer their action movies to be riddled with non-stop bullet ballets, edited together via one giant shaky cam CGI-laden experience completely devoid of any character development, actual emotion, and - quite often - halfway decent writing. Lens flares get tossed in at the drop of a hat, seemingly added solely to distract audiences from the lack of acting occurring on the screen on the part of the way-too-young and aesthetically-pleasing faces of performers cast
Raquel Welch's fripples and Edward G. Robinson's dancing highlight a rather lackluster comical caper.
In all the annals of crime fiction, there can perhaps be no greater task assigned to any filmmaker than the execution of a heist or caper tale. Such a photoplay must be handled with complete and total confidence, caution, care, and subsequently carried out with great attention paid to each and every detail. In fact, making a caper isn't too terribly dissimilar than the act of performing for a daring robbery itself: you need a crew of professionals who not only having the fine art of perfect timing down to a science, but who are also utterly suave and sophisticated
One of those rare Neil Simon dramedies that still makes you laugh in all the right places for all the right reasons.
The mid '70s was essentially the zenith of a now-occasionally-questioned-by-film-scholars craze wherein virtually every melodramatic Broadway hit penned by playwright Neil Simon's simply had to be turned into a movie. And, while several of the umpteen kajillion Simon plays transformed into cinema fare - like, say, Chapter Two - wouldn't even be worth the price of admission into a free upscale theater with an open snack bar and the guarantee of a personal Q&A with God himself to take place immediately thereafter, there are those other filmic works of the famous writer that would be worth viewing even if you
The niche Blu-ray label unveils, among other things, its first double feature release.
A little over three years ago, a tiny niche distributor began to issue limited edition releases of movies that didn't quite fit the norm on DVD, before quickly deciding to give viewers these exclusives only on Blu-ray instead. Films that, for one reason or another, had either become concealed in film vaults by excessive dust, archival copies of the six-thousand superhero movies produced this year alone, or which their parental studios didn't quite have enough faith in to release single-handed (because, you know, why spend money to make the fans of classic movies happy when you have six-thousand superhero movies
Two forgotten musicals, a neglected homage, and The Cars, too.
While Friedrich Nietzsche is perhaps best known today by underread Facebook users as the guy who said "Without music, life would be a mistake," the general idea of such an idiom makes a great deal of sense. That said, however, the combination of music and film has resulted in a venerable slew of items - ranging from movie musicals for the big screen to music videos for television - being produced and quickly forgotten about throughout the better part of an entire century. Prior to television becoming the norm for entertainment, wherein variety shows (another casualty of the passing of
What do Woody Allen, James Stewart, Kurt Russell, David Lynch, and a couple of horny teenage girls have in common? They're all on Blu-ray now.
That which makes something "the funny" is something we as human beings utterly fail to see eye-to-eye on far too regularly. You don't know how many times I've projected an episode of SCTV onto the television set in a desperate attempt to educate today's unimpressionable youth, or stalked the aisles of a video store looking for people to start fistfights with just because they were under the false impression Haunted House was a good movie. But I guess our respective taste in comedy (or lack thereof) is just another example of that which makes us individuals. You know, just like
Fay Wray highlights this slow-moving ride that's too proud to ask for direction.
Prior to the days of Big Oil coyly destroying America's public transportation system in favor of urging everyone to buy huge gas-guzzling cars, there existed a different kind of criminal to the owners and operators of bus travel. Wildcat Bus tells of such activity, though its sense of direction could do with some navigation control. We begin with the carefree inheritor of old money (Charles Lang) having everything he owns but his car and his chauffeur/best friend (the great Paul Guilfoyle) being taken away from him by the powers that be, who declare him incompetent and incapable for some unknown
The beginning of the end for Mickey Rooney and Eddie Bracken.
It's always interesting to watch a titan fall within the realm of film - even one who was as diminutive as the late Mickey Rooney. Hailed as a prodigy in his youth, Rooney escalated into the bright limelight of Tinseltown as an adult, starring in the ever-popular Andy Hardy series. As the 1950s rolled around, however, Rooney found himself in a precarious situation. He had been married and divorced several times over already (those numbers would keep growing as time went on), and was only nine years away from declaring bankruptcy when A Slight Case of Larceny was released to
Notable for being as genuinely dumb as its name implies.
Throughout the annals of romantic history, ladies and gentlemen - whether it be pressed onto paper, matted into music, or solidified on celluloid - there has never been anything quite like the moonlight to bring out the lustful lycanthropes within us. Even that one time when Bugs Bunny was in drag on the moon commenting that there was "a beautiful Earth out tonight", you can't help but suspect it was the very lunar surface itself that was responsible. And yet, were someone to say to me "Look at that sky full of moon," I think all romantic notions would come
The Warner Archive gives this lifelong classic a deserving second chance.
You know when the words "Pile out, you tramps! It's the end of the line!" are uttered by a grumpy, disgusted prisoner transport driver at the opening of a movie that you're in for a good one. And while they say nothing quite changes a man like prison, it goes doubly so for women - something we all learned from numerous late-night viewings of those wonderfully sleazy Women In Prison (WIP) movies we watched as horny adolescents (and which we still view on occasion today as grown, oversexed men). But long before the days of those mouth-watering, gratuitous scenes of
Five films making their High-Def debut take a good long look at depraved elements like violence, greed, sports, and Jon Voight.
If there was one particular collection of words that I would repeatedly hear and subsequently remind myself during those brutal mornings when I would wake up with a staggeringly, seemingly-undefeatable hangover during my years as a twentysomething, it was that it was never too late to learn. And, much like the idiot I was then (as opposed to the idiot I am now), I didn't listen. Similarly, this assortment of titles released by our friends at Twilight Time in March of 2014 deals with people from all walks of life finding themselves with the same epiphany - though most of
For those of you who wonder what that whole "sex, drugs, and rock and roll" thing is like.
Whenever people ask me how my day was, I tend to tell them that I won't honestly be able to give them an answer to their inquiry until a little after 11:59pm. And my slightly-sane reasoning behind my sarcasm offers up the argument that it is hard to sum something up that hasn't fully concluded yet. Likewise, if one were to make a movie about the life of a famous person whilst the individual in question is still alive, the entire point seems a bit moot. The same goes for motion pictures that are all about an entire decade: it's
The Zucker Brothers take on the Marx Brothers in a rare example of someone actually succeeding in recreating classic comedy.
Capturing the elements that made classic comedies classic for a contemporary comedy is ne'er an easy task. In fact, it can be near impossible to accomplish such a feat. Who can forget that time Harvey Korman and Buddy Hackett attempted to recreate Abbott & Costello's timed-to-perfection routines for the the 1978 TV biopic Bud and Lou? Actually, it turns out that everybody forgot about that, and rightfully so, I dare say. How about a more timely topic, like the Farrelly Brothers' abysmal take on The Three Stooges from 2012? Yes, the same project that managed to bring a Curly Howard
Pre-action star Kurt Russell highlights this amusing piece of '70s pseudoscience schlock.
In the late '60s, a fellow named Erich von Däniken published a book entitled Chariots of the Gods?, which - among other things, highlighted the concept of ancient astronauts. Now, perhaps it was the seemingly-godless state of the world at the time or the fact that everyone was on drugs then, but it wasn't long until the public had a keen interest in all things pseudoscience shortly after the rather-controversial title's release. Soon after and well into the late '70s, movies and TV shows were popping up left and right that showed ordinary men looking for Bigfoot, the Loch Ness
Not quite as nice as sex among friends, but I suppose it'll do.
While many of you will no doubt agree with Christopher Lloyd's line in Star Trek III: The Search for Spock that a failure is the most powerful destructive force ever created, I have to beg to differ when it comes to television pilots. When it was quite clear that these vehicles would never be able to spread their wings and learn to fly, they wound up banished to the hoary netherworlds known as vaults, wherein they practiced the fine art of collecting dust. It is only when studio folk start rummaging through these motion picture relics of yesteryear that we
Still, it's better than the 2006 remake of the original film!
If you've never seen the original version of Irwin Allen's disaster movie masterpiece The Poseidon Adventure, allow me to sum it up for you in a short gathering of words: it's about a big boat that flips over. If you've never seen Beyond the Poseidon Adventure, Irwin Allen's very own attempt at grabbing more moolah from the same cash cow he himself nurtured and brought to market in the first place, then please permit me to inform you that you really aren't missing all that much. Nothing at all, in fact - unless you happen to have a soft spot
One of the most powerfully realistic (and yet simplistic) post-apocalyptic movies ever made.
Every single time one of my patented and less-than-stellar efforts at conversing with a fellow human being in the interest of that mysterious dating thing occurs - and subsequently fails - I often find myself devoting a fraction of my imagination and time to the possibility that somewhere, in an alternate timeline, it succeeded. This, of course, opens up the floodgates to a variety of silliness on my part, wherein I ponder what might have happened to world had various individuals and places taken different paths than the ones we know and remember them for today. And I'm not the
Who's ready for a little PnP? Perkins and Palance, I mean.
As soon as the brooding, bellowing, and otherwise lamentable sounds of Tennessee Ernie Ford's voice starts to croon the titular theme song, you get the feeling that the 1957 Paramount Picture b-western The Lonely Man is an appropriately titled affair. And it is, too; the entire film suffers from a deep case of severe depression and isolation from the whole of humanity - so much so, that Paramount even stopped distributing the film on DVD a while back. Recently, however, the Warner Archive added this one to their ever-growing collection of odds and ends, with this one most assuredly falling
The Warner Archive brings us a massive upgrade from that horrible old budget DVD.
Having "been there, done that" throughout the whole of the '90s, I have to say I have a certain amount (read: a lot) of bias against the entire decade. Why, I cringe in terror whenever I think of the god-awful colors our extremely baggy articles of clothing were endowed with to the music scene that seemed to accomplish very little in the grand scheme of things except that most people needed to bathe more. And then there were the films of said era, like Forrest Gump. What the hell were you all on, for God's sake? And thought a thousand-and-one
It's easy to see why James Garner and Julie Andrews each considered this their favorite starring roles.
The very traits that distinguish your average, everyday coward from that of renowned public hero are split by a very fine line - something Lieutenant Commander Charlie Madison (James Garner) knows only too well. An enlisted Naval officer and practicing coward, Charlie makes his living solely by being a dog-robber for Rear Admiral William Jessup (Melvyn Douglas) in London during the days just prior to D-Day in World War II. Whatever the officers of merit want, Charlie gets it, even in a city - nay, an entire country - that hasn't seen fresh fruit or Hershey's bars in years. Food,
The Warner Archive dusts off yet another obscurity from the vaults.
After all-but-becoming Sheriff Andy Taylor in that long-running, still-in-syndication classic television series with the whistling theme song, Andy Griffith was a natural selection when there was a small town country cop part to be cast. Sadly, the public apparently had an issue with Griffith being cast as a lawman within the confines of a fictitious rural community if the subject was that of a serious one. A 1974 TV-movie entitled Winter Kill starring Griffith was intended to sell a series to network audiences, and, when that failed, was altered into what would become the short-lived Adams of Eagle Lake, where
See Jimmy duke it out. See Jimmy enlist in the Navy. See Jimmy go West to fight Bogie. Then see yourself smile.
Gangster. Dancer. Mister Roberts’ personal pain in the ass. James Cagney inhabited all kinds of roles as a performer, and the better-known works of his onscreen legacy have been well-preserved time and time again over the years. And then there are those other, lesser entries in Cagney’s filmography that have all-but slipped underneath the radar as time marched on - three of which have recently hit DVD via the Warner Archive Collection. In fact, this instance in home video history notably marks the first time two of said titles have seen their way into homes other than as a late-night
Lives up to its subtitle admirably, though not for those looking for the quality.
The groundbreaking, thought-provoking science fiction television series The Twilight Zone is truly a gift that just keeps on-a-givin'. Who - apart from a fortune-telling napkin dispenser in a tiny rural town somewhere - could have possibly conceived that when a visionary named Rod Serling first presented television viewers with his first creepy look into his now-legendary fifth dimension all those years ago that the show would still be inspiring and delighting people all over the world? Never you mind the countless times Serling and his crackshot writing staff destroyed said world in the process: they still made it happen just
Quite possibly the only cowboy star to work with John Ford, Orson Welles, and Alfred Hitchcock.
My love of classic black-and-white b-westerns is not a film fetish I try to hide. Anytime I get a chance to check one out, I take it. If my local art theater decided to show one every day until the day I died, I would probably only miss, well, none. Likewise, when the Warner Archive issues another entire set of old cowboy movies, I am always eager to mount my metaphorical steed and write off into the sunset (like what I did there?). But in the instance of the Tim Holt Western Classics Collection, Vol. 4 (please, say it five
More docs and Dick than you can shake your medical staff at.
Decades before the American public became more comfortable with the concept of watching the outrageous antics of an antisocial-and-yet-still-sociopathic doctor with a strong Vicodin addiction on a regular weekly basis, they were more content with witnessing a man who actually cared about people in action. In fact, in the instance of the fictional physician Dr. James Kildare, popularity was not just limited to one format, as he was one of those rare characters who transgressed the bridges of every conceivable kind of media - branching out into film, radio, television, comics, novels (where he actually originated, having been given life
Ah. THIS must be why Sybok searched so anxiously for God.
Possibly beget as one of three bullets loaded in the chamber of a short-lived ABC wheel series The Men, where it revolved along with Assignment Vienna and Jigsaw, The Delphi Bureau starred Laurence Luckinbill - best known to old-school Star Trek fans as the least-effective big-screen villain ever, outranked only slightly by a certain Voyager spacecraft - as government agent Glenn Garth Gregory. Well, he's kind of an agent. In fact, the Delphi Bureau has only one employee (guess who), but the department is so obscure that they don't even have an office or phone number. Nevertheless, Gregory, along with
The Vitaphone Comedy Collection, Volume Two - Shemp Howard (1933-1937) DVD Review: Thank You, Warner Archive!
For those of us who have always been and always will be Team Shemp.
After leaving the original vaudeville version of a comedy company that would later come to be known to the world as The Three Stooges, Shemp Howard embarked on a solo career in comedy. It was a venture he did not have to enter into lightly, either - as Shemp possessed an inherent ability to make one laugh, be it by his oh-so-distinguishable looks (his manager once promoted him as the ugliest man in Hollywood) or his knack for slapstick humor. Unlike his former (and later, future) colleagues, he didn't necessarily need to be a second banana or serve as an
Raro Films issues another set of gritty crime flicks from the late Italian maestro.
During my awkward years spent as a pretentious latter-stage teenager who spent way too much time watching weird, foreign-made films, I went through the various phases of being, looking, or at least pretending to be "cool" in some fashion. This, naturally - and in hindsight, regrettably - included the act of smoking. When one of my eighth-grade teachers saw me dangling the dreaded tobacco stick from my bottom lip, she politely scolded me, but then quickly reflected the wise words a long-gone cousin of mine (who died before I was born) imparted unto her: "Pick your poison and stick with
Three sleazy, gory gems for your bad movie viewing (dis)pleasure.
Most of us already know that there is nothing like a good movie. There is also nothing like a good bad movie, but it takes a special kind of bad to make one good enough for my particular, already-far-too-drastically-low standards. Fortunately, there are companies like Synapse Films - who not only specialize, but excel at releasing a variable assortment of venerable b-movies from all walks of life (or living death, perhaps). Under scrutiny here are three of Synapse's older releases, which I sat on for a really long time before a recent move unearthed them - much like the films
Burt Lancaster delivers a performance that will positively send chills down your spine. And those blue swimming trunks sure won't help any.
The very definition of a cult film is one that many (ahem) "scholars" such as myself can drunkenly argue amongst ourselves into the wee hours of the morning over copious amounts of scotch and Schlitz. In my humble opinion, setting out to make a cult film will grant you an unlikely chance of winning; one need only take a peek at the many kajillion so-called "cult" movies released to DVD via indie labels on an unfortunately, weekly basis. But if there's one thing many of us actually can agree on, it's that most major studios simply don't have the guts
The Warner Archive dusts off another forgotten tale of woe set in vintage Tinseltown.
We've all heard the many tales of terror reaching from the furthest depths of the various circles of Hell that make up a certain section of the greater metropolitan Los Angeles area, and even as far back as 1932, the offscreen drama and intrigue were already present and in full swing. The pre-Code RKO ditty What Price Hollywood? presents us with a lurid look at the high cost of living it up as one rises into the illustrious nighttime sky to play amongst the stars. And while the people and events depicted therein are works of fiction, it is worth
Because we all know how well Buster Keaton could dance, sing, and speak Spanish.
Although MGM's 1930 pre-Code musical comedy Free and Easy wasn't silent comedian Buster Keaton's first talking motion picture, it was the first film wherein audiences were introduced to his gravelly voice - which the suits at the studio were, for reasons unknown to this day, completely OK with asking him to sing with. While dancing. Because that's what one of the greatest comic daredevils ever does best: sing and dance. Oh, and why not have him speak phonetic Spanish, too? That's not in any way silly, is it? But then, that's just the way they did things back then, kids.
For those of you who have always wanted to see an elderly James Cromwell nekkid, your ship has just sailed in.
Chances are the one-time plight of now-deceased Canadian resident Craig Morrison eluded you back in the day. Back in 2007, an 88-year-old Morrison staked out a plot of land on his own property to construct a new single-story house so that he could take better care of his wife Irene, who suffered from Alzheimer's. But building a home for he and his wife on their own land proved to not be as easy as he remembered it being: not because of his age or the work, but due to the fact that a building inspector began to cite Morrison for
It's not quite dead. It's getting better.
My initial assessment for the first series of the BBC Victorian Era police procedural Ripper Street was highlighted by the short quip "Needs Improvement". When the second season/series landed at my doorstep, a part of me wondered what I was in for. Essentially, there were three roads the makers of this television programme could go down: that of altering the formula for the worst, keeping things exactly the same, or adjusting it just enough to improve the show overall. Fortunately, it would appear that the latter path was the one chosen to travel here - as Ripper Street: Season Two
Sometimes, placing all your eggs in one basket pays off.
I only caught Johnny Capps and Julian Murphy's alleged brainchild Merlin once a few years back, and quickly wished I had not. It was a dull fantasy series created to no doubt cash-in on some franchise about a kind of magic kid named Harry. Fortunately, someone else finally figured out the show was a dreary excuse for all things interesting, and Merlin came to an end in late 2012. But with an empty timeslot and the broadening possibility of life in the unemployment line on the horizon, TV producers Capps and Murphy had to think of something new. So, with
Ben Stiller succeeds in launching and then crashing the very same project so many others abandoned or passed-up several times before.
One fateful day as a geeky movie kid in the late '80s, I discovered a recently-released-to-home-video VHS of something called The Secret Life of Walter Mitty. It had the wonderful Danny Kaye. And horror icon Boris Karloff. And silly musical numbers - which I still could probably recite from memory to this day if someone gave me five bucks. Essentially, it was the perfect movie for a fresh classic movie lover such as my younger self, and while the first DVD release of the 1947 classic became one of the hardest movies for me to find at a reasonable price
Shout! Factory doubles down with a pair of early '70s chopsocky flicks.
While I haven't completely forgotten every single bit of my life as an awkward teenager in the '90s, there aren't too terribly many memories from that point in time that I can safely chalk up on the board as being overly favorable. But, for each of the bad ones, there was always some way a bullied movie geek in high school could find some sort of release. One such memory involves a series of martial arts double features videocassettes the now-defunct Video Treasures label put out in the early '90s. The recording speed was always LP (four-hour) mode, the presentations
The Search for Jimmy Stewart's Courtship of Superboy.
In case you've ever wondered, there have been millions upon millions of motion pictures made the world over since the very inception of film in the late 1800s. Sadly, it's impossible to get an exact count on these, due to many movies out there having been made independently and/or never released, lost due to fire or misplacing, or the fact that they just haven't been "discovered" yet. When you move over to the realm of television shows, however, things don't seem to be as mind-boggling when it comes to numbers - but if just so happens that there are many
Put out an APB on a couple of beers and shoot out the light.
At the tail end of his career in motion pictures, a longtime western star by the name o' Wild Bill Elliott was forced to contend with several big changes in the film industry. First, the near-legendary Poverty Row studio known today as Monogram Pictures - under whom Elliott had had his final motion picture contract with - went through a transformation. As it morphed into what soon became Allied Artists, the low budgets Monogram cheapies were so well-known (and rather notorious) for ceased to be. Secondly, as television audiences began to crave western shows, the B-Western unit was disbanded entirely.
The Eddy Duchin Story (1956) / The Front (1976) / Crimes and Misdemeanors (1989) / The Blue Max (1966) / Thunderbolt and Lightfoot (1974) Blu-ray Reviews: Twilight Times Five
Eastwood. Woody. And World War, too.
Previously, the folks at Twilight Time had stepped up their game from two to three releases per month to four. Recently, however, the niche home video label decided to up the ante a wee bit further, giving consumers a total of five new releases to add to their collection. As always, this batch is of a decidedly varied assortment; the only true constant here appearing to be most of the movies somehow work death into the picture! But hey, that's one of the few things that still sells, right? Read on and find out. Firstly, we have the 1956 classic
Because one more publication on the subject couldn't possibly hurt the subgenre any.
Once, years ago, the living dead were revered to by many as something almost legendary. George A. Romero's original trilogy of walking corpse movies were regarded as holy. It almost seemed that very few people in the film world dared to enter into such a subgenre of horror for fear of either oversaturating the market or looking like complete fools in the process. And the very notion of a television series about the aftermath of a zombie apocalypse was something that would - at best - conjure up streams of laughter from just about everyone around the world. And now
Tom Sizemore sizes up a comeback in a movie with a confusing title that no one is truly bound to see. The end.
Years ago, film producers seemed to take an unnatural amount of pride in increasing the numerical value of their franchises, which were commonly accompanied by a subtitle to the film. For example, the fourth (and by far the last even semi-amusing) Police Academy film was released to theaters under the moniker Police Academy 4: Citizens on Patrol. Friday the 13th Part VII sported the subtitle The New Blood. And this was mostly because we kept things simple back then. Alas, with the rising insurgence of prequels, spin-offs, and reboots within the film industry, utilizing the number system became less sagacious
Kirby Grant and Chinook Adventure Triple Feature, Volume 2 (1949-1950) DVD Review: Canadian Mountedness from Monogram Pictures
The Warner Archive breaks out three vintage Northern films co-starring a very bright doggy.
When the name Kirby Grant is mentioned - usually in a bar full of aging male retirees reminiscing about the good ol' days - he is automatically associated with that of the popular, long-running '50s television series Sky King. A musical prodigy in his youth, Grant eked out an existence as a leading man in B-movies for more prominent studios in Hollywood, wherein he starred in seven budget westerns for Universal. His new star status caught the eye of those fellows on Poverty Row, and Monogram Pictures soon signed the performer to head a series of ten Northern adventures based
The Warner Archive dusts off another nine delightful B-Western selections.
In late 2011, the Warner Archive unveiled its first nine-film volume of the Monogram Cowboy Collection. Well, it's been just over two years now, and here we are with the fresh MOD three-disc release of Monogram Cowboy Collection, Volume 7 in our saddlebags - which features nine more B-Western goodies from the '40s and '50s starring (respectively) the talents of the portly Johnny Mack Brown, country crooner Jimmy Wakely, and the wacky Whip Wilson. The latter star dishes out the largest bulk of fare here, with four films, while that legendary crooner Jimmy Wakely only gets two entries to his
In the Name of the King 3: The Last Mission (2014) Blu-ray Review: Why Do I Torture Myself Like This?
Yet another entry from a franchise nobody asked for to begin with.
Sometimes, all it takes is the right angle - whether you're a Nigerian prince trying to give away free money, or a adult magazine photographer who's looking for the proper approach to snapping a picture of someone's privates. And then there are bad movies made by bad directors which star bad actors. If you stand even the slightest chance of surviving such an affair, it's imperative you change your point of view somewhat. Now, I'm not saying you should take back all those things I've said about Adam Sandler movies not being funny (they're still not) but that you should
Decades after the fact, the Warner Archive cleans out the McGee's hall closet. Sadly, this was all they found.
In this day and age, the idea of a real-life couple appearing together in a motion picture, on the television, or even on the radio is enough to make one want to pick up one of those book things and take up an interest in reading. But it hasn't always been that way, kids. No, decades before the criminally uncomforting activities of Ben Affleck and Jennifer Lopez or the monotonous snoozerific charms of those blank expressionless Twilight leads, there existed actual real-life couples with actual real-life talent, who were capable of captivating actual real-life audiences for generations. And these brave
Personally, I need an everlasting love, but I'll wait for it, wait for it, give it some time.
First of all, allow me to say that, although the gossip column of the newspaper has expanded enormously into entire tell-all magazine publications and deceptive propaganda-mongering networks since the era in which Love Is a Racket was made, it's still a difficult notion for me to grasp. Put simply, I just don't get it - and this is primarily due to the fact that I don't care about the lives of celebrities. So, whenever I find myself assigned with the task of critiquing a film like the Love Is a Racket - especially Love Is a Racket itself, wherein our
A naked supermodel, bored lead, hammy heavy, and a guest star gettin' blowed up real good: now THIS is what cinema is all about!
If one were to pick a solitary word to describe Richard Fleischer's 1979 exploitation adventure flick Ashanti, the noun "disaster" might very well define every single aspect about the motion picture. Though he was no stranger to the field of action/adventure movies - or even exploitation for that matter - it seemed that, by the time the late '70s rolled around, Fleischer (son of legendary animator Max Fleischer) no longer had quite the luck he had enjoyed up to fifteen years prior with 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, Fantastic Voyage, Tora! Tora! Tora!, and even Soylent Green. In fact, shortly
Grindhouse Releasing gets their hands on two cult epics from the Columbia Pictures vaults - and the results are nothing short of fabulous.
In the latter half of 2013, cult indie label Grindhouse Releasing unveiled their first Blu-ray title - the mind-numbingly awesome 1972 psychedelic romp, An American Hippie in Israel. Shortly thereafter, Grindhouse continued what had already amazingly become a winning streak with two more equally devilishly delicious ditties: the sleazy 1968 British horror/thriller Corruption, and the 1966 Italian spaghetti western The Big Gundown. Their astounding transfers and bonus materials aside, the only thing these two moving pictures from the latter half of the '60s have in common are blood and typecasting. But in the case of Corruption, we have a prime
Two forgotten - and highly enjoyable - low-budget thrillers from RKO make their way to DVD courtesy the Warner Archive Collection.
Since the inception of the Warner Archive Collection several years ago, film noir enthusiasts have become highly appreciative of the manufactured-on-demand label's tendency to dust off the occasional crime drama from the vaults. Indeed, these noir titles even receive their own special banner atop the DVD covers - indicating the Warner Archive's obvious pride in releasing these items. For the beginning of 2014, the WAC have brought out two more titles for aficionados of this dark moving picture subgenre to add to their collections - both of which were produced by RKO Radio Pictures and have their own share of
The Warner Archive brings us 24 more classic comedies in two four-disc sets. Win.
In late 2012, the folks at the Warner Archive brought forth into reality what had previously only been an everlasting fantasy on many a classic comedy connoisseur's list: they released a four-disc set highlighting twelve of the 48 motion pictures from the iconic Bowery Boys series. Earlier the following year, the Warner Archive unveiled The Bowery Boys, Volume Two before commencing the final quarter of the year with Volume Three. For those of you doing the math there, that means 2013 brought us an entire one-half of the whole Bowery Boys franchise. Now, for those of you who are like
Khartoum (1966) / Man in the Dark 3D (1953) / Titus (1999) / Zulu (1964) Blu-ray Reviews: Twilight Time Gets Serious
The niche HD label unveils a venerable wave of odds and ends.
When my regularly scheduled package of Twilight Time items showed up last month (Look, I'm rarely on time about anything, alright? It's the only way I can guarantee I'll be late for my own funeral!), I was a bit shocked to discover that, instead of two or three items, as I/we reviewers usually received, I had four movies to experience. All for the first time, mind you. And, while I can't say I was overly impressed with one genuinely pretentious piece of horse droppings in particular, Twilight Time definitely started out 2014 with a bang. (And we're scheduled to get
The wait is over. But was it worth it?
Two years ago, Sherlock creators Mark Gatiss and Steven Moffat left their titular modernization of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's timeless creation at the edge of a very awkward and uncertain fate, in a season finale that seemed to channel the very vibe of a good ol' Saturday Matinee Cliffhanger Serial. And, while Baker Street Irregulars around the world started spinning webs of fanciful conspiracy in order to explain what they think happened, it was only a matter of time until the two men who constructed what has since become the UK's most watched drama series within the past thirteen years
A break we can all enjoy.
Less than two short decades ago, '80s action megastars Sylvester Stallone and Arnold Schwarzenegger began to feel the world changing around them. Having arm-wrestled and last-action-heroed their way into early retirement on account of several decidedly futile battles with the increasing boredom of box office patrons, they gave way to a rising boom in the demand for direct-to-video fare: articles of B-moviemaking best suited for their lower-rent counterparts such as former marquee heralders Jean-Claude Van Damme and Steven Seagal. From there, Stallone stuck to opening Hard Rock Cafes, while Schwarzenegger opted to take up a career in politics. And, while
(aka 'The Anti-Social Network'.)
In 1963, legendary cult filmmaker Roger Corman - determined to live up to his reputation as a parsimonious producer - decided to recycle a number of leftover props, crew, actors and costumes left behind from previous productions (both his as well as those of others) in order to get the most out of sets built for The Raven before the scenery was torn down and destroyed completely. Sadly for film historians and enthusiasts alike, the resulting film - The Terror - was a lot of substance stuffed into a great big boring messy heap of a flick; one co-star Jack
The Golden Voyage of Sinbad (1973) / Sinbad and the Eye of the Tiger (1977) / Royal Flash (1975) Blu-ray Reviews: A Vintage Hero and a Classic Cad
Twilight Time brings us the last of a Harryhausen trio and the only entry from a proposed series.
Late last year, while most of your average, run-of-the-mill distributors were busy emailing out holiday gift guides en masse to publications both virtual and tangible alike in order to push those illustrious fourth-quarter sales up as high as possible, the folks at Twilight Time were kickin' back in a surprisingly laissez-faire-esque manner. They were foregoing that whole "Santa Claus wants you to buy this, for you'll surely burn in a rich Christian Hell if you don't!" aggression most outfits succumb to during the holidays, instead opting to release three lesser-known entries from two classic film franchises. Well, you had better
Silent Night, Bloody Night (aka Death House) DVD Review: Attack of the Killer Warhol Factory Inmates
A constantly forgotten slasher film prototype gets another budget label release.
While some major holidays always seem to get the short end of the axe handle when it comes to having their own scare films, Christmas is perhaps even more popular than Halloween when it comes to slasher movies. And indeed, as one sits there watching the mostly forgotten no-budget horror flick Silent Night, Bloody Night, they cannot help but notice a number of minor similarities between it and the original (real) 1978 version of Halloween. It comes as a great surprise, however, when one also takes note that Silent Night, Bloody Night was, in fact, made several years earlier than
From Orson Welles to Oliver Reed and Karl Marx, too.
If I were asked to pick two things the folks at Twilight Time certainly don't believe in, I would have to shoot for both biasness and uniformity. Every month, the niche (and now exclusively Blu-ray) label releases an assortment of movies from its two current licensors - Fox and Sony - never showing any particular favoritism to either studio, but releasing equal amounts of titles from both companies. What's more, Twilight Time has a wonderful knack of redefining the very world "eclectic" nearly every month. And November 2013 was certainly no exception for what has become a favorite label for
North to Alaska (1960) / The Undefeated (1969) Blu-ray Reviews: The Duke Finds a Duchess and Gets a Piece of the Rock
Two vastly different John Wayne titles make their High-Def debut.
While his own personal range as a performer may have left something to be desired for many a graduate of The Royal Academy of Dramatic Art, the one and only John Wayne nevertheless managed to leave a rather eclectic filmography unto the world. From his early days as a bad actor in B-Westerns up until those last few films he made following that disaster of a Genghis Khan biopic, The Duke reigned supreme - in just about every fashion of fiction (from non to highly fabricated) possible. And 20th Century Fox Home Entertainment's latest pair of Blu-ray discs - North
Irwin Allen develops the prototype to the Roland Emmerich formula.
Before he became well known throughout the world as the "Master of Disaster" - to wit he created and directed a number of memorable (as well as some highly forgettable) star-studded disaster films and television movies in the '70s and '80s - Irwin Allen was one of the most prolific science-fiction producers during the '60s, responsible for such TV greats as Lost in Space, Land of the Giants, and Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea. The latter item - which was actually the producer's longest-running series - started out several years earlier as a lavish sci-fi adventure with an
An oft-neglected horror classic makes its digital debut courtesy the Warner Archive Collection.
As DVD quickly started to become the norm in the late '90s, many a classic horror film was brushed off and cleaned up so that its parent company could market yet another fan favorite in the then-new digital medium. To date, we've seen every notable thriller starring the likes of Vincent Price, Bela Lugosi, Boris Karloff, and Lon Chaney Jr. released on disc - but there was one noticeable entry from the filmography of one Peter Lorre that has always eluded us. Until now, that is. Penned by frequent Universal Horror scribe Curt Siodmak, the 1946 Warner Brothers chiller The
The first American film to take ghosts seriously gets the elite treatment.
In today's era of mishmash horror moviemaking - wherein there's a new Paranormal Activity flick released every other year - it's almost hard to believe that there was once a point in time when Hollywood, along with the rest of the world, didn't take the concept of ghosts likely. Nevertheless, it's true: prior to the final days of World War II, movies featuring "spooks" were usually contributions to the comedy genre - and nary an apparition ever turned out to be anything but a fellow masquerading as a specter as the film in question drew its own conclusion. But this
Everyone's favorite new niche label is back with two very different seasonal selections.
Holding up to the classic cry of "Trick or treat!" youngsters are apt to beckon homeowners to handfuls of candy and razors with, Twilight Time has given us two vastly different horror titles for the year of 2013: the 1992 splatterfest Mindwarp, followed by the creepy 1972 thriller The Other. And indeed that's just what we get here: a trick and a treat. Now, every now and then, a niche label is bound to release something that will generate a big amount of "Huh? What?" from its regular consumers. Much like the folks at Criterion have puzzled completionists with their
The Warner Archive brings us a sleazy, slow-paced rape/revenge thriller with two different versions.
As events near and far forever altered the world throughout the '60s and '70s, the well-known face of cinema began to go through a change, as well - beginning with the demise of the Hays Code in 1968, wherein the MPAA introduced us to a rating system. With this advent, filmmakers could depict more "adult" themed tales - without fear of excessive backlash from the censors. This also meant exploitation folks all over could at long last make the kind of trash their demented audiences craved at drive-ins and grindhouse theaters all over the country - such as Wes Craven's
What happens when you try too hard to be too hip.
Ah, the wonderful world of exploitation. After studios and filmmakers such as AIP and Roger Corman began to make hip motion pictures aimed solely at the adolescent crowd in the '50s - manufactured, no doubt, in an effort to wrangle the teens into theaters so as to curb the ever-growing numbers of juvenile delinquent crimes that were on the rise in the US ([/sarcasm]) - the rest of the moviemaking community started to stoop so low as to embrace earnings over eminence. Some of these fine folks, however, grossly overestimated the demand to make things far en vogue with the
A show that scores even after they ad another addition.
Were the average individual to take the time to peruse the annals of sitcoms from both the past and present, they would likely discover that the addition of a new family member often results in the untimely departure of the show's run on television. Who could ever forget the stupefying deathblow administered to Diff'rent Strokes when Danny Cooksey came aboard? Or what happened to The Cosby Show when sagging ratings spawned several latter-day additions to the cast? But again, these instances of the final nails being gently pounded into the proverbial coffin came to pass because - as I previously
You know it's bad when even Nicolas Cage drops out.
For every motion picture performer, there comes a time when all that matters is a quick and easy paycheck. It is during these dark moments in one's career that even the most ill-advised decision to make a little dough can serve to topple what was once the most immovable of towers. I fondly remember a point in time when Robert De Niro - the man who wowed many a moviegoer away in movies like Taxi Driver and The Deer Hunter, and who won an Oscar for his work in both Raging Bull and The Godfather: Part II - was on
The last of the 15th Lord of the Apes' adventures.
As the old saying goes, "The more things change, the more they stay the same." When motion pictures first came about, nearly every literary character ever created started to appear in pictures. As radio became the norm, many a pop culture hero - from comic books to classics, and moving pictures to boot - turned into regular audio programs. Once a newfangled contraption known as television quickly started to become the new medium, many a previously-used idea was recycled and rebooted for contemporary audiences. And, while Hollywood is still utilizing the re-imagining of virtually everything already conceived all-too-heavily today -
The Warner Archive presents two very different western tales.
In the annals of the western, there is perhaps no greater character than that of the local sheriff. Sometimes he's just as ornery as the resident villain's sadistic henchman (heck, sometimes he is the resident villain's sadistic henchman). Other times, he's an old, weary fellow who is ready for that great round-up in the sky. And then there's that quintessential hero type who is both quick on the draw and guaranteed to save the community at any given time. But what we usually don't see in these cinematic (or even episodic) tales of the old west are greenhorn newbies taking
Four Pre-Code Vitaphone rarities starring the definitive Nick Charles.
Everyone needs a role model. Especially when they're growing up. As a young lad, I found myself at odds with my choices. The men folk amidst my surroundings weren't entirely suitable to my liking on account that I was a precariously peculiar boy delimited by rednecks, loggers, farmers - just a plain assortment of simple-minded people in general, really. But that all changed upon my first viewing of The Thin Man. I had found a god amongst men. And although William Powell had retired from acting many, many moons before I was ever so much as a twinkle within the
The long lost sequel to 'The North' and 'The South'.
First, there was Gregory Nava's El Norte in 1983. Next, Victor Erice followed suit by delivering El Sur unto us that same year. And then, nothing - not a single motion picture with a Spanish-language direction came about for years! And while up-and-comer Zal Batmanglij's latest magnum opus, The East has about as much to do with the aforementioned peliculas as frozen yogurt has to do with raw ore, I just think it's a shame nobody made a movie called El Este, so I'm assigning this one that name for just a brief second in time for absolutely no specific
It's OK to be in Saint-Tropez.
Eighteen years before the enjoyable-but-ultimately-uncalled-for remake, The Birdcage hit theater screens across the world, La Cage aux Folles first introduced moviegoers to the fantastic farce of an engagement between the offspring from two entirely different households as only the French could do it. In fact, they did it better. And there's a reason for that: La Cage aux Folles is a bona fide French creation all the way around. Based on a 1973 stage play by Jean Poiret, La Cage aux Folles proved so popular, it inspired two sequels, an American musical stage version, and the aforementioned remake. Here, we
"If you wanna find out what's behind these cold eyes, you'll just have to claw your way through the disguise."
Anymore, it seems the word "zombie" is synonymous with a well-placed sigh of exasperated annoyance - garnished with a complete and total hatred of the unimaginative hipsters and low-budget filmmakers who have taken something that used to be underground and cool, only to have turned it into a dull and tired affair. In America, television execs decided to jump on the living dead bandwagon and create a series about a post-zombie apocalypse world. The result, of course, was The Walking Dead - and is in every way identical to what one might envision would happen were George A. Romero, the
Further proof Australia may, in fact, actually exist.
While the various horrors in Southesast Asia were rarely ever touched upon by any significantly major movie studios during the Vietnam War itself - with many a World War II or Korean War flick made in order to passively "commentate" on the ongoing battles between countries - it wasn't until it was all said and done with that anyone really started to make movies about it. And make movies, they did. In the late '70s alone, moviegoers witnessed powerful tales of madness such as Apocalypse Now and The Deer Hunter - both of which were created by American filmmakers who
The umpteenth film incarnation of "The Hands of Orlac" is a botched operation unto itself.
From the opening shot of Hands of a Stranger, one gets the distinct impression that the director of this low-budget fiasco was intent on doing things differently. And, when you stop to consider that the inspiration of this horror flick - Maurice Renard's 1920 classic novel, Les Mains d'Orlac (The Hands of Orlac) had already been filmed at least sixty or seventy-thousand times prior in the 1930s alone, with another adaptation having been made only two short years before this mess premiered, you really can't blame the director for wanting to take a different approach to it all. Of course,
A mind-warping lump of coal that has magically turned into gold.
At first glance of the title, An American Hippie in Israel seems like some sort of joke. And indeed, it was - on the investors who shelled out the cash to produce this flick back in the early '70s. The film, known in its native land as Ha-Trempist (The Hitch Hiker), started out as a social commentary by one-time filmmaker Amos Sefer before being shelved completely on account of its complete lack of any aptitude whatsoever. That, however, did not stop the film from becoming something of a popular item in Israel - much like The Rocky Horror Picture Show's
Never mind her hands - take a look at those perky l'il boobies!
Oh, it never fails, does it? You grow up in squalor, the young teenaged ward of a nefarious phony séance mistress who frequently lends your nubile assets to the demands of oversexed men of parliament. Worse still - and somewhat unbeknownst to you, at that - you turn out to be the orphaned child of the one and only Jack the Ripper, who murdered your mother before your very eyes the night he disappeared off the face of the Earth once and for all; an act that has, as that already bad twist of luck would have it, resulted in
Triumph of the shrill.
Throughout the annals of filmdom, there has been an trait wherein filmmakers aspire to live up to the old adage "Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery" the only way they know how: by downright copying someone else's work. Usually, the culprits are lazy American filmmakers, who commonly tend to (ahem) "borrow" the titles, plots, and sometimes even directors of movies made in magical, far-off lands such as France, Australia, and a mythical realm called England. The results are usually laughable at best, yes - but what happens when, say the British, hire an American-born director to write, produce, and
Every once in a while, something gets pried out from within cracks of time.
Every once in a while, something gets pried out from within cracks of time. In the instance of The Traitor - a 1957 mystery from the UK that was released in the US under the more ambiguous title, The Accursed in 1958 - we have at long last been given the opportunity to see one of the few feature films made by the seemingly-promising talent of a young would-be auteur by the name of Michael McCarthy. Sadly, McCarthy's true talent more than likely never had a proper chance to materialize, as he died at the tender age of 42 -
"I don't think I need a spine. It's holding me back." -Satan
During the mid '90s, my fascination with all things foreign and artsy-like led me into the welcoming arms of two entirely different movie directors: Spanish auteur Pedro Almodóvar - whose quirky comedies such as Tie Me Up! Tie Me Down! and Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown greatly appealed to my youthful pretentious flair - and a Mexican-born fantasy filmmaker Guillermo del Toro, who caught my eye with the inventive 1993 flick, Cronos. Needless to say, when I found out the 2001 Spanish/Mexican-made film The Devil's Backbone (El Espinazo del Diablo) was a collaboration between the two, I
A venerable banquet unto itself.
Gabriel Axel's multiple award-winning film Babette's Feast takes place almost entirely in a tiny, remote, 19th century village somewhere near the western Denmark coast. That's right, kids: it's a movie that doesn't have to rely on cell phone reception - so you can exclude this one as a kooky cannibalistic horror film right off the bat. No, Babette's Feast is instead a drama about something contemporary cinema seems to have missed the mark on: the human factor. Based on the novel by Danish author Karen Blixen (1885-1962), the 1987 Academy Award-winning film begins with a tale of two elderly sisters,
Yes, he's still alive.
There's a dazzling moment with the antagonists of Mel Brooks' comedy classic Blazing Saddles wherein the always-excellent Slim Whitman suggests killing "the first born male child in every household" in order to permit the bad guys to prevail. To this, the great Harvey Korman to deliver the line "Too Jewish" - a line many a magnificent comedic writer has heard in his or her attempts to get a laugh from their audience. One such talent is the one and only Rick Moranis (yes, he's still alive), who stresses in the liner notes of his new album, My Mother's Brisket &
The forgotten disaster flick from the famous animators finally makes its home video debut.
From the earliest days of cinema, filmdom's original filmmakers - those brave, experimental individuals who would pave the way for their industrial descendents' hits and misses with their own blood, sweat, and tears - found there was no truer onscreen battle to behold than pitting man against nature. Thus, the disaster film was born - even though it really technically didn't become a whole genre unto itself until the '70s, wherein movies like Earthquake!, Airport, and The Poseidon Adventure loomed their tales of adversity over the horizon of foldable theaters seats near and far. Towards the latter half of the
Break out the Schlitz and enjoy.
After quickly rising out of the mists in an uncredited bit in Cool Hand Luke in 1967, Texas-born character actor Joe Don Baker found himself nearing that proverbial spotlight many performers out there dream of. He starred in the surprise breakout hit Walking Tall - a fictionalized 1973 account of Sheriff Buford Pusser's well-known one-man battle with the State Line Mob - which was followed up via a memorable, BAFTA-winning role as the sadistic hitman hired to kill Walter Matthau's Charley Varrick later that same year. After that, Baker moved on from exploitation oddities like Golden Needles to the short-lived
The "too little, too late" spot on the route.
Fifty-one years after her tragic death, Marilyn Monroe has managed to land a number of personas in the public eye. First, there's the Iconic Model Marilyn, whom we all know and love, if the numerous cutouts of her in various low-key '50s-themed diners across the country is testament to anything. Next, we have Naughty Marilyn: that which is attributed to her drug and alcohol abuse, as well as the many highly publicized and clandestine affairs she (often allegedly) had during her brief period on Earth - including several husbands, two Kennedys, and God know who else. Why heck, there's even
Think of it as enjoyably brainless entertainment.
When I first saw some sort of shrapnel about Sylvester Stallone being in a film entitled Bullet to the Head, I immediately figured the American film industry had stooped so low as to attempt to remake a John Woo film. Again. I thought for sure we were all set to return to the world of '90s action films - which, needless to say, did not pump the caffeine-riddled sludge passing itself off as blood in my veins. Thus, you can imagine my delight once I realized that Bullet to the Head was indeed not a reboot of the 1990 Hong
The torrid tale of a man who dreams of single-handedly exterminating the world of its excessive amounts of male bovines.
Growing up in the shadow of your father is never an easy task for a young lad - especially when dead ol' dad is dead. As a hot-headed boy, Juan Gallardo dreamed of following in his deceased bullfighter father's footsteps, and to massacre many a poor, hapless animal that the great Tom Lehrer once described as a "half a ton of angry pot roast." Fortunately for the young, impoverished Spaniard youth - who has suspiciously blue eyes and speaks with nary an accent - he runs away with his buddies and grows up to be the equally non-Hispanic Tyrone Power,
Tonight, on Racial Stereotype Theater…
When Star Wars: Episode I - The Phantom Menace first started teasing moviegoers and nerds everywhere in the late 1990s, the world became accustomed to the phrase "Every Saga Has a Beginning" - something that has been copied and parodied in some circles ever since. Of course, it's a true statement; one that extends as far back as the early days of moving picture entertainment itself. Witness the 1928 Academy Award winning Hollywood classic In Old Arizona, wherein we see the beginning of three entirely different (but altogether) factions of film: the singing cowboy motif, the first all-sound entry filmed
I wish I had Superman's powers, just so I could spin the world around backwards and turn back time just long enough to prevent this film from being made.
Upon the release of Skyfall, regular ol' filmgoers and trolling fanboys alike started to point out all the similarities between the third Daniel Craig James Bond flick and a certain superhero series that filmmakers Christopher Nolan and David S. Goyer had rebooted. Well, hey, imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, right? There's absolutely nothing wrong with including in a little homage to another title (or complete franchise) in your own movie. And it's a game that just about anyone can play, too. All one need do is check out the Goyer/Nolan-penned reboot of the timeless Superman legacy, Man of
A seldom-seen and unsurprisingly not-so-memorable mediocre (but still entertaining) musical.
Adapting a series of comedic sketches into a feature film is probably not the wisest move one can make. Sure, those Monty Python boys did a reasonable job recreating many of their BBC skits for And Now For Something Completely Different, but it still didn't possess the panache their feature-length comedies held - nor did it have the same magic as their original televised sketches did. Now just imagine what might happen were one to take a musical/comedy revue and turn it into a film. Actually, you really don't have to imagine what might happen: Twentieth Century Fox's 1951 post-war
Who knew Michael Rennie could get down and boogie so well?
In the 1950s, a life-threatening menace began to rear its ugly head to all good, God-fearing, red-blooded Americans who valued their freedom. No, I'm not referring to the alleged peril Communism was supposedly trying to destroy us with - I'm talking about something far worse: teenagers. More specifically, the teenaged crowd who were busy bopping about in hula-hoops and poodle skirts at the drive-ins after drag racing in hotrods and downing numerous chocolate malts with their hamburger sandwiches, all the while greasing their hair back to the sound of that dreaded negro jazz beatnik music on the jukebox. Or something
Glenn Ford and Charles Bronson as buddies? SOLD!
While traditional and contemporary adaptations of William Shakespeare's works have been coming and going since someone figured out how to record moving images way back in the late 1800s, there's something about the more off-the-wall incarnations of the famous author's works that happen to appeal to those of us who don't like to shuffle through the Middle English language we just heard and attempt to translate it into Modern English (I melt with you, by the way) in our heads while still trying to listen to the next line. As such, we have been blessed with films like Forbidden Planet
With seventeen children in two cities, it's clear that Mr. Pennypacker has been packing more than pennies.
As soon as those infernal television set devices were installed into American homes and began to receive incoming transmissions of this and that in the 1950s, Hollywood had to come up with something new to pull the public in so that they could spend their hard-earned money. One of these gimmicks was dubbed "CinemaScope" - which presented for the first time, motion picture entertainment in a widescreen aspect ratio. While initially utilized to present productions that were on the more "epic" scale of things (20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, Forbidden Planet, The Robe, et al), it wasn't long before even
Probably the only instance in film to see The Tin Man and Batman ride around in a car together.
You might think that the concept of filmmakers adapting other people's works so loosely that the byproduct doesn't even come close to resembling its source material is a newer notion. You'd be wrong, of course: Hollywood has been doing this sort of thing since the initial inventing of celluloid itself - so much so, that when I discovered the 1937 Fox musical comedy Wake Up and Live (which is the optimist's way of saying "Fuck Off and Die!", no doubt) was based on a self-help publication by Dorothea Brande, I figured it would be a name-only variation. And I was
Richard Burton, Richard Harris, and Roger Moore blowing the piss out of people. What more could you want?
Contrary to what most of today's youth might falsely believe, the all-star adventure action flick has been around for several decades - long before Sylvester Stallone was old enough to enlist as a mercenary-for-hire or Chuck Norris mastered the art of waxing his back hair. In fact, these classic movies went on to inspire Italy's sacred genre of what we sometimes call "Macaroni Combat" films - which in-turn motivated people Quentin Tarantino to create movies like Inglourious Basterds. Interestingly enough, some of the more formidable entries on the unofficial list of goodies this oft-unspecified genre has produced over the years
TV's Dr. House, Maeby Fünke, and Seth Cohen - together at last.
During the middle of the previous decade, my girlfriend at the time and I were hooked on three specific television series: House M.D., Arrested Development, and The OC. Well, the latter was more to appease her than anything. I can't stress that enough, folks. Honestly. In fact, the only thing that enabled me to survive the yuppie haven that particular drama served up on a regular basis was Adam Brody's character of Seth Cohen - who appealed to me since he was an awkward nerd. I can relate. Unsurprisingly enough to anyone who has ever met me, I also identify
No, we don't get to see Uncle Miltie's legendary penis in this one, either. Get over it already.
The very genre of comedy owes an insurmountable debt of gratitude to many of its unsung screenwriters who worked hard to give us an uncontrollable case of the sillies with the timeless gems of yesteryear. Such an arrears almost doubles when it comes to crafting a truly genuine piece of "the funny" during a time of worldwide apprehension - such as war. While the patriotic men and women of the United States were certainly in need of a good laugh, such a thing wasn't always at their beck and call. Sure, on one hand, you had Bud Abbott and Lou
Solution: lunar antidepressants.
Based on the 1942 novel by John Steinbeck by the same name, 20th Century Fox's 1943 ode to freedom The Moon Is Down centers on the Nazi invasion of a small costal Norwegian town during the very midst of World War II. While the book was a bit vague on the identities of the invading force, the movie - written by The Dirty Dozen screenwriter Nunnally Johnson - is as blatant as can be as to who the villains are. We begin with an extended shot of a typically angry Führer (or rather, his overly-expressive hands) shouting in his native
Come on in: the water's completely and unapologetically tepid!
Though the concept of a moving picture story set on the beach depicting the everyday lives of youngsters skilled in the fine arts of surfing, singing, dancing, and G-Rated fornication with one another had been done once or twice before AIP invited us all to the very first Beach Party in 1963, it wasn't until that frolicking festivity with Frankie and Annette that America (and possibly even part of the Lesser Antilles as well) embraced the actual subgenre of such filmmaking. Sadly, this meant that the usual school of low-budget competitors were sure to surface from the murky depths below
The Criterion Collection brings us a wonderful set from a fine French comic you probably never heard of.
For many of the "average" citizens living within the confines of the continental United States of America, the concept of viewing French comedy is on-par with sitting around in coffee shops drinking itsy bitsy cups of coffee whilst talking about art and folk music: that which is perceived by the ignorant, uneducated masses who have been raised under the impression that NASCAR and Coors Light make the world go 'round to be artsy-fartsy-hippie-liberal-faggoty stuff. Of course, what they fail to realize is that - as Morrissey once crooned - America is not the world. And both NASCAR and Coors Light
Yes, it's good to be bad. But this is much worse.
While I was never a "huge" fan of the original Texas Chainsaw Massacre series (the ones that started with The Texas Chain Saw Massacre in '74), I must confess that one of my favorite LPs in my record collection is that of the soundtrack from The Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2 from 1986. Of course, any motion picture soundtrack that contains Concrete Blonde, Oingo Boingo, Timbuk3, and The Cramps simply demands to be taken seriously - and there's even an offering from The Lords of the New Church (a group that, interestingly has a new singer named Adam Becvare) entitled "Good
Under scrutiny here: Bonjour Tristesse, The Rains of Ranchipur, Beloved Infidel, The Blue Lagoon (1980), Lost Horizon (1973), Experiment in Terror, and Our Man Flint.
Once more, friends, we (or rather I) invite you to join me as I poke about a bit with some of the newer Twilight Time Blu-ray releases in another chapter of the Heavenly Shades of Delight series, which started with Volume One and Volume Two earlier this year. For this illustrious third entry, I am taking a peek at seven titles from the exclusive niche label - each of which is available exclusively online from Screen Archives (providing they're not sold out already, that is!). 1. Bonjour Tristesse (1958) (Columbia Pictures, Released November 13, 2012) Giving up the lifestyle one
Dana Andrews matches wits with Martin Kosleck in Nazi Germany - and it's fun!
For many B-movie lovers like myself, the late great German-born Martin Kosleck will perhaps be best remembered as the mad scientist who helped create the titular creations in one of the earliest gore flicks, The Flesh Eaters in 1964 - and as a baddie in the ultra-campy no-budget American James Bond rip-off Agent for H.A.R.M. in '66. Decades prior, however, Kosleck made a career playing villainous Nazis (including Herr Goebbels himself - four different times!) in World War II-themed motion pictures boasting both large and small budgets alike. His frequency inhabiting such roles was not just another case of prime
A movie full of Caucasian Ricans and a hero who looks like frickin' Matthew Lillard.
In case it has slipped past both your central and peripheral paths of vision in recent years, the residents of the United States of America don't really care for its neighbors beneath it. Apparently, they feel they're, well - beneath them. Canadians? Kosher - so long as they don't talk politics or health care. Mexicans? Never. Not in a million years. Who cares if they do all of the menial tasks most of the USA's own citizens feel are a tad too tedious: they still don't like them. And that goes doubly so for those lazy, happy-go-lucky Costa Ricans -
Edgar Allan Poe and Sherman T. Potter: College Roommates.
While he was one of the authors who appealed to me during those days of darkness that dominated both my fashion sense and overly-artistic mind in the not-too-distant past, I must confess the notion of a motion picture based on the romantic side of Edgar Allan Poe seems like a real head-scratcher in my opinion. Ironically, outside of something in the vein of a BBC miniseries, Poe's tragic existence would perhaps be best-fitted for fiction - whether it be Hollywood's overly sensationalized 2012 film The Raven with John Cusack, or as an illusory cameo who sets up the entire plot
George A. Romero's Knightriders (1981) Blu-ray Review: The Most Sincere, Underrated Drama About Adult Outcasts Ever Made
"It's real hard to live for something that you believe in."
The setting is a quiet forested area, with a gentle, calming body of water nearby. A king awakens completely nude on the ground - his slumber distributed by a vision of a black bird - with his just-as-bare queen lying next to him. He goes about his ritualistic afternoon: bathing in the water, lightly lashing himself in the back with a small, flexible branch, only to then don his tunic, his sword, his armor and helmet, and then - as if a moment had been pulled straight out of the pages of a forgotten Monty Python screenplay, the king and
As genius as what might have happened had Douglas Adams taken LSD.
Every filmmaker has some sort of visual signature that can be easily recognized in their works. Sometimes, such as in the instance of Alfred Hitchcock, it's a brief walk-on role that you have to look out for (to say nothing of his directorial style, but that's quite literally beside the point in his case). For others, it's the tendency to repeat the same damn scene in every movie they make - such as that no-talent hack Michael Bay and his frequent usage of something exploding on a freeway as the camera pans away. And then there are directors like the
Because displaying a movie in its proper widescreen ratio is passe, right?
OK, so let me bring you up-to-date here, kids: recently, Fox Cinema Archives released several classic motion pictures - originally presented in theaters in CinemaScope - in the dreaded, severely outdated process of pan-and-scan (something that was used for older 4:3 TVs, but which is flat-out ridiculous in this day and age, what with widescreen television sets and all). As Douglas Adams would say: "This made a lot of people very angry and has been widely regarded as a bad move." Well, seeing as how everyone else has griped about this faux pas (or would that be a "Fox pas"?)
Lesson learned: don't punch holes in the lid of the bottle for the lightning to breathe.
Adapting a work from one form of entertainment to another is not an easy task. Imagine, if you will, what might happen were one to add a Descriptive Video Service audio track to a film like Koyaanisqatsi. Or if Cannibal Holocaust were turned into a bloodless Broadway musical. Something would inevitably get lost in translation, making way for that age old adage about capturing lightning in a bottle. But what happens if you hand that magical glass container over to someone - say a complete and total dumbass - and they go and punch holes in the lid so that
Typical run-of-the-mill '50s War of the Sexes fare, notable only for being Tony Randall's film debut.
If someone were to voluntarily stroll up to me and willingly make it a point to talk to me about the classic War of the Sexes genre of romantic comedies that highlighted many a headliner at cinemas of yore, chances are they would invoke the holiness of those oh-so-dated-yet-timeless Doris Day/Rock Hudson vehicles. Were such a conversation with a complete stranger to occur, however, my first thought would not stray towards the appeal of either aforementioned lead performer. Instead, I would grin with delight over the very thought of the quintessential War of the Sexes co-star, Tony Randall - one
No, it's not a documentary about America produced by the Tea Party.
Everyone remembers the late great actor Glenn Ford for a different reason, whether it be his roles as Pa Kent, Mr. Eddie's Father, Dr. Faraday, or - on perhaps a more famous note - as the lead of many a fine cowboy or film noir protagonist. But what of his films before he became a big star? Well, thanks to the Fox Cinema Archives, we can at long last view Glenn's very first major role - as a feller named Joe Riley in the 1939 film Heaven with a Barbed Wire Fence - without having to scour hundreds of television
Picaresque neorealism, or artsy-fartsy stuff from a bipolar loon? You decide.
As one of those individuals that became the slightly pretentious artsy-fartsy feller during his teenage years whilst growing up in a small town, I frequently made trips to video stores (or at least ordered random titles from grey market mail-in video distributors) in search of something that I surely thought would add a little culture to my mundane, tormented existence. It was through these actions that I transitioned from one phase to another - discovering and subsequently learning to appreciate the work of oft-renowned filmmakers such as French New Wave pioneer Jean-Luc Godard, the stylish bullet ballet work of Hong
It's no Sherlock, but it certainly could be worse.
Some will tell you that life imitates art. Others will insist that the opposite is true. Personally, from what I've seen in the fields of film and television, I would venture to say that art imitates art. Well, sometimes it's art that's being imitated. Other times, you have people emulating the likenesses of other endeavors from the film and television genres that simply weren't too terribly outstanding to start with - and which were really only popular with the masses. It's almost like popcorn imitating popcorn: a tasty treat when you dive into it, but it's oh-so-fleeting in the long
A laughably bad scuba heist drama that never heard the expression "sink or swim."
When I received my copy of Raiders from Beneath the Sea in the mail, I knew I by the artwork alone I was in for a real exercise in tedium. As soon as I popped the disc into my player late one evening after having consumed not nearly enough Guinness, the words "Lippert Incorporated Presents" appeared onscreen - giving me an even graver indication that I was about to slide into an obscure B-Movie Hell. I was right, of course: chock full of wooden acting, production values that seem even lower than that of a rushed Del Tenney feature, and
Parental Guidance (2012) Blu-ray Review: Usually, Jokes are Funny - But Hey, Why Kill Time Laughing?
Billy Crystal challenges everything in contemporary society - including the patience of his audience.
In an early episode of Scrubs, Neil Flynn's Janitor character sprayed Zach Braff's fictional persona of J.D. in the crotch with a mist of water. Several times, in fact. And such a juvenile prank worked then and there because the writers knew it wasn't funny - which, in turn, made it funny. The dynamic WGA-approved talents of the rarely-employed duo Lisa Addario and Joe Syracuse - two of the seven people to have received credit for the already-forgotten animated kiddie film Surf's Up - on the other hand, completely failed to realize that such a cheap joke seldom causes so
Under scrutiny here: Cover Girl, Those Magnificent Men in their Flying Machines, High Time, Bye Bye Birdie (1963), The Sound and the Fury, Steel Magnolias, Enemy Mine, and Night of the Living Dead (1990).
What do classic musicals, aerial races, William Faulkner, and flesh-eating zombies have in common? Not much, really - apart from the very fact that indie label Twilight Time has released all of the above on Blu-ray in the recent past. Continuing where I left off with the previous Heavenly Shades of Delight article, I present you with eight more titles the popular niche outfit has quietly unleashed upon the world of collectors within the last year. Each of these titles are/were limited to only 3,000 pressings apiece, and are available exclusively online from Screen Archives. Cover Girl (1944) (Columbia Pictures,
A fun, forgotten English film noir.
Some people you simply don't associate with certain types of roles. Like Rosie O'Donnell as Betty Rubble. Or John Wayne as Genghis Khan. And then there's the case of English actor Jack Hawkins (The Bridge on the River Kwai, Ben-Hur) - a highly respected though-rather-bulldog-faced actor - inhabiting the role of a chick magnet, as he did in the superb-yet-sadly-underrated 1957 British film noir flick Fortune Is a Woman. Released in the United States the following year under the less-imaginative title She Played with Fire, the tale stars Hawkins as Oliver Branwell (not Oliver Cromwell): an insurance investigator for Lloyds
Under scrutiny here: Bite the Bullet, Demetrius and the Gladiators, Bell, Book and Candle, Désirée, Journey to the Center of the Earth, The Big Heat, As Good as It Gets, and The Wayward Bus.
I know it's one of those things that we all hate hearing about, but nevertheless, it's true: the economy in the last couple of years has really made for some hard times. Though it's not as awful as, say, losing your house or job, the world of home media was not immune to the downfall of the financial system. Nearly a decade ago, we were treated to the digital disc debuts of titles we never even thought we'd see on videocassette back in the '80s. Once things started to take a turn for the lesser, however, we lost many of
As just about anyone who has ever surfed either the shelves of a video store's "hip" section or scoured throughout the various forums available on the Interweb (and the avatars of the users contained therein) has probably deduced, Christopher Walken is hailed as something of a badass with several generations. It's really no surprise, of course: the famous performer has become something of a living meme for the oft-bizarre characters he has played, not to mention his own wild-style and keen ability to mock even himself repeatedly on Saturday Night Live. But then there's that side of Walken that not
Night of the Devils (1972) Blu-ray Review: Sexually-Charged Psychosomatic Italian Horror at its Finest
All this and full frontal nudity, too, guys and gals. Definitely a keeper in my book.
Were I given the opportunity now to do a high school report on Italy, I would list the boot-shaped country's top major exports as "Pasta, Shoes, and Horror Movies." Made during the time of that curious cusp between Italian filmmakers' transition from the giallo style of thrillers to the flat-out, full-on "We're gonna try to make you puke" gore-laden chillers we all know so well today, Giorgio Ferroni's (The) Night of the Devils (La Notte dei Diavoli) manages to deliver the goods from both genres -- and incorporates a hypnotic (and sometimes bewildering) music score by Giorgio Gaslini (yes, you
Is it weird that I can relate to every single main character in this film? Oh, well!
As anyone who has ever experienced a truly awkward moment of puberty is well aware, growing up is an inevitable part of life. However, in most cases, we do not simply jump from Point A to Point Z -- there's usually a learning process involved that teaches us the rest of the alphabet of maturity. Valuable skills are developed upon the way -- wherein we (are supposed to) learn how to interact with the rest of humanity and how to function as the relatively-sane human beings our parents probably had hoped for in the process. And then there those of
The Boys from the Dwarf make their long-awaited return with a full six-episode series in glorious High-Definition.
More than 24 years after it first hit the airwaves of a perplexed BBC and delighted jaded science-fiction comedy viewers near and far, Red Dwarf made a triumphant return to television in the final quarter of 2012 — only this time, under the compassionate guidance of Dave TV (no, not the fictitious David Lee Roth network from the mid '80s). Previously, the Boys from the Dwarf had made a minor comeback with a three-part special in 2009, subtitled Back to Earth, which took place nine years after Series VIII — which concluded with a cliffhanger many hoped would be resolved
Some things simply will not lay down and suffer a painfully natural death like they should.
It never fails to amuse me how something so decidedly adult in nature can sometimes turn into a franchise aimed solely at children. In Japan, the epic Godzilla character was conceived as a serious science-fiction look at the horrors of America's nuclear bombing of Hiroshima. A few years and several sequels down the line, Godzilla had somehow malformed into a heroic favorite with the kiddies. Several decades down the line, America itself was treated to similar-but-altogether different mutation. The popular Police Academy series started in 1984 with an R-rated comedy strictly for adults, complete with nudity, drug use, public acts
Not only is it a contemporary SOV flick, but it's a found footage flick, to boot. Joy, eh?
Some of you may remember a point in the history of home video wherein amateur filmmakers who had managed to save up enough bread to buy a camcorder would make their own movies. These shot-on-video (SOV) items were usually of the horror variety, and were renown for their piss-poor quality in terms of, well, everything. Nevertheless, indie distributors managed to make a few bucks off these budget-less wonders — something that wasn't too terribly hard to do in an age when rental priced videocassettes often sold to mom-and-pop stores for a hundred bucks a piece, and private producers could easily
Guaranteed to give you a bore-gasm.
At the very beginning of Oliver Stone's Savages, we are greeted to the sight of Taylor Kitsch's bare ass in motion as he rams his co-star, Blake Lively, who proclaims via voiceover narration: "I have orgasms, he has war-gasms." And, with that less-than-Blake's-last-name delivery, all expectations one might have for this dramatic thriller — to say nothing of the amount of respect one might have once had for any of the film's performers — goes out the door and into the rubbish bin like a big jug of sour milk. Granted, taking a gallon of curdled dairy out to the
A highly-enjoyable family adventure flick about a group of dirty stinkin' hippies.
Following the events of a seemingly-endless war in Vietnam and the horrid realization that mankind was emitting excessive waste into the air within the heavily-populated areas of the world, it was inevitable that someone somewhere in the already hygienically-questionable '70s would pack up their daily struggle with life in the city and move out into the country to get away from it all. Today, we call them dirty stinkin' hippies. Back then, however, they were something of heroic figures to those who secretly envied the ability to stop working for a living and adjourn to the mountains. Well, they were
A surprisingly song-less song-and-dance film with Leslie Caron and Mel Ferrer.
Question: When is a musical motion picture actually not a musical, despite the fact that it contains every cinematic musical element contained within the confines of its short 81-minute runtime? Answer: When it's Lili. One of many Technicolor MGM romantic dramas with singing added produced during that bodacious period of filmmaking when audiences actually craved such things, Lili tells the tale of a young naïve country French lass named Lili (Leslie Caron, still riding on the success of An American in Paris) who follows a handsome fellow (Jean-Pierre Aumont) around one afternoon after he saves her from a lecherous shopkeeper.
The first Bill and Ted in High-Def? Why, in time, we'll be dancing in the streets all night!
The year was 1989. It was an awkward twelve months all around, especially for a discomfited tween such as myself who was experiencing that equally graceless period of life known as junior high. Of course, no matter how ill-at-ease I felt then, there was always a sliver of salvation made available to me on numerous occasions that year courtesy the film industry — who seemed to be making releasing just about every kind of movie under the sun. But between movies like Field of Dreams and Tango and Cash, there were the inevitable, vastly popular film franchises — which many
When is this series going to make a right turn? Oh, ask a silly question...
A nearly-forgotten Canadian rock band from the '80s called Eight Seconds once declared in a tune "Your voice is for calling my name, and I shall return." Sadly, some low-budget horror movie producer somewhere evidently heard someone say "Oh, I took a wrong turn" one day and completely misconstrued Eight Seconds' words — thus unleashing yet another god-awful entry in a line of direct-to-video shitfests that no one ever asked for in the first place. Yes, although the Wrong Turn series had already reached its nadir long ago with its initial entry, we're still getting assaulted every year with more
There's really nothing new under the sun here except for some old, brittle, sun-bleached Bones.
It's always been said that, should your television series be showing some serious signs of redundancy or you just can't figure out how to tally up the very equation that you set forth into the world, just add a kid to the show and call it good. There have been many instances in which we have witnessed the demise of even a moderately mediocre primetime program due to a noticeable lack of originality and the ever-dreaded addition of a child character to the fray. And Bones — a series that started off as a somewhat so-so title to begin with
More fodder for my ever-worsening mental condition.
Every year, J.J. Abrams brings us yet another television series. Around that same time every year, I grow a little crazier. Sure, you may just consider the two seemingly-unrelated items to be nothing more than mere coincidence, but it is most assuredly not, boys and girls — as at least one-percent of my madness is unquestionably attributable to the lousy shows Mr. Abrams proudly stamps his "I am to crappy mystical TV shows what Tim Burton is to crappy, overly-artsy movies" seal of approval upon. And the short-lived 2012 Abrams-produced series Alcatraz has become more fodder for my ever-worsening mental
Lesson learned: never accept a gift from Sean Penn.
There's nothing taking time out of your everyday boring routine to play a fun game with your friends. In the case of completely unlikable investment banker Nicholas Van Orton (Michael Douglas), his venture into The Game is not one he is too terribly willing to participate in — and his playmates are anything but friendly. When he was a young boy, Nick's secretly unhappy father committed suicide on his 48th birthday. Now, having just turned 48 himself, Van Orton is just as miserable as his deceased father to anyone with half an eye. So, his young, reckless brother Conrad (Sean
As God said to Cain: "If you want to cast people into the deepest depths of despair, send in a couple of French folks."
In late 1942, when the surreal French fantasy Les Visiteurs du Soir was first released in good ol' gai Paris, the capital City of Lights was anything but happy. In fact, it was occupied by those ol' no-good Nazis — and the prospect of freedom was but a farfetched dream for some. Thus, the very premise of the film — wherein two of the Devil's emissaries are sent to an otherwise happy castle in 1485 to bring about despair to all — was something of a believable concept to those who were forcefully living within the Hellish confines of Hitler's
Any actor who shares the same name as my deodorant is A-OK in my book.
In keeping up with their recent line-up of Film Collection releases (box sets featuring highlights from Frank Sinatra, John Wayne, Denzel Washington, Liam Neeson, et al), the folks at Twentieth Century Fox have once again assembled a set of classic, well-known titles from one of Hollywood's most legendary bad boys: the one and only Robert Mitchum. The Robert Mitchum Film Collection repackages ten of the most famous titles from the Fox and MGM libraries (in two volumes) to star the iconic actor (any actor who shares the same name as my deodorant is A-OK in my book), and includes feature
A movie that doesn't live up to its title: I don't like these people at all!
Family. Yes, there's nothing like your own flesh and blood to screw up your entire existence and make you never want to socialize with any single member of the human race ever again. Yet, somehow, there's nothing strangely satisfying in life than discovering a new branch on your family tree — a finding that gives you the false hope that, just perhaps, they will make your term on this Earth all the more complete. Or, at the very minimum, they won't be as crazy as the rest of folks in your clan. Of course, I don't know very much about
A wonderful set containing timeless theme songs and intense incidental music as well.
Bond. James Bond. For some, it's the man itself that makes them jump up and down with delight -- personal choice in actors notwithstanding, of course. For others, it's the endless array of post-kill puns, sexual euphemisms, and gadgetry. Finally, folks, there are those in this world who love 007 movies just for the musical contributions they have brought to the world; whether it be a kick-ass theme song or just some tense incidental music. And that, boys and girls, brings me to the very point of this piece: the music that has been accompanying James Bond on his
This shark is even more dangerous roaming the aisles of a grocery store than I am.
Russell Mulcahy, ladies and gentlemen. Fans of a certain franchise about an immortal Scotsman who says "There can be only one!" know him as the man who directed the one true, original Highlander movie. '80s music lovers know him as the guy that helmed a few videos for Duran Duran, Billy Idol, and The Tubes. And then there are all those rednecks who probably don't know any better than to associate him with the made-for-TV biopic 3: The Dale Earnhardt Story, but that's probably for the best since most of Russell's crappier films have — fortunately — gone mostly unnoticed
Wake me up when October ends.
I suppose being an depressed asthmatic epileptic is something of a load unto itself for a college coed with dreams of being an actress. Now, try tossing in the discovery that your parents aren't really your parents after all — and you are, in fact, the result of a botched abortion. Not exactly an uplifting thought, eh? I suppose things could get worse, of course — and you could actually be some thinly-disguised plot point of a rotten, boring pro-life Christian propaganda flick that surely escaped from some sort of kooky Conservative Hell. Well, that's about the gist of October
Casting Vincent Price as a "good guy" action hero is a sure sign of drug use itself.
By 1962, motion picture producer Albert Zugsmith had been far removed from the Universal science fiction classics that he will forever be remembered for with "serious" moviegoers (i.e. The Incredible Shrinking Man) and returned to what was best at: making cheap, independent exploitation flicks. The Allied Artists release Confessions of an Opium Eater is a prime slice of beef (or is it a slice of man, to mock a corny philosophical conversation that takes place within the confines of the film) wherein we learn one truly important thing: casting Vincent Price as a "good guy" action hero was a sure
A cheapo horror film gets an equally cheapo DVD release.
For those of you who — like me — miss those days of wandering through mom-and-pop video stores in search of weird, wild, and sometimes wonderful movies, its sometimes nice to see a retro scary flick find its way to digital home video. In the case of Troma's "first time" DVD release of Daniel Boyd's Chillers however, I have to wonder where the fascination is. For starters, the movie has been released on disc before: eight years ago, actually (by BCI), as part of a Toxie's Triple Terror set — so any anticipation one might have had for this no-budget
The Living Daylights Movie Review: It's Not Easy Being the New Guy, Especially When You're the New Guy's Substitute
Just like Frankie, Elvis, and Sid, Timothy Dalton did it his way.
As anyone who ever found themselves making that awkward transition from one school to another during their years spent in educational institutions can attest to, it's not at all easy to be the new guy. The pressure gets turned up to an unbearable temperature as people around you begin to unjustly judge you right off the bat - just because you don't conform with their expectations of how a total stranger should look. What, then, might occur when you're not even the guy that was meant to be there? Supposing you're the new guy's surrogate - only there because
Ashton Kutcher is given the unenviable task of stepping in to fill Charlie Sheen's cocaine-stained shoes — and he immediately starts winning.
The loss of a lead performer in a film or television franchise can be a truly devastating ordeal — whether the missing star's absence is attributable to an unfortunate real-life passing (see: Taggart), or someone simply went wacko and got shit-canned by producers (see: Valerie). In the moving picture industry, this can be rectified by a simple bit of recasting. In TV Land, however, there are these strange, ardent, geek-like individuals — people we often refer to as "fans" — who become so rapt by their favorite show that the mere thought of hiring a new player is usually met
Criterion brings us the lost fairy-tale romance from Paul Fejos, along with two other Fejos curiosities.
There's nothing like a little alone time to give you some perspective on your situation in life — especially when you're lonely. During his extremely brief career in Hollywood, Hungarian-born filmmaker Paul Fejos directed this early artistic curio contribution to the world of celluloid about a lonely factory worker in New York named Jim (Glenn Tyron), who — bored with the day-to-day drill of his professional life — goes to the mystical Isle of Coney, wherein he meets an equally forlorn female by the handle o' Mary (Barbara Kent), who works as a telephone operator (because there were few other
Revenge: The Complete First Season DVD Review: Very Little Here You Can't Find in a Daytime Soap Opera
Once again, ABC has taken a routine movie formula and turned it into an overlong TV series.
Since the dawn of television itself, there have been countless attempts to turn popular big screen movies into a long-running weekly programs produced exclusively for small screen viewers. More times than not, these transitions have proved disastrous for producers and performers alike, but that hasn't prevented them from continuing to try. Lately, however, TV studios have been attempting to turn entire film genres into series. A recent example was the shockingly god-awful unintentional laughfest The River — a show that should serve as living proof that ABC will, in fact, air anything. The latest instance is another ABC series: the
007 goes toe-to-toe with Star Wars, and the result is nothing short of amusing.
After 33 years, what is honestly left to be said about Moonraker that hasn't already been touched upon? I certainly can't go and say "Well, it's bad!" for fear of repeating what many people have already most definitely established without the aid of a run-of-the-mill film critic such as myself. I cannot even go with what my immediate gut feeling tells me to say -- "Well, it's enjoyably bad!" -- because I know there are many individuals out there that have also figured that one out for themselves. However, in lieu of anything wholly original to say, I'll just
Hercules, Samson and Ulysses [Ercole sfida Sansone] DVD Review: Sea Monsters! Lion Strangling! Hamstrings!
The last major peplum flick from the director of the original Hercules.
Though filmed in 1963, Pietro Francisci's final contribution to the peplum (sword and sandal) genre — a little ditty called Hercules, Samson and Ulysses (aka Ercole sfida Sansone) — didn't make it to screens in the U.S. until 1965, by which time the macho muscleman movie craze had all but ended all over the globe. I suppose it's not such a bad thing, though, since this offering probably seemed just as routine to audiences then as it does to me today. Of course, that's not a bad thing, as we only watch these movies for one reason alone: prime Italian
Five years. Three films. One ass-kicking elderly star.
It took eight years for someone to make a sequel to the original film adaptation of Brian Garfield's novel, Death Wish. To this day, many speculate whether or not the film should have even bore a sequel — let alone the entire five-film franchise that came to pass over an impressive twenty-year span. Whereas the classic 1974 Charles Bronson revenge flick could have very well remained a stalwart and standout film to moviegoers and scholars alike, Menahem Golan and Yoram Globus — the boys behind the notorious production company of Cannon Films — had other ideas: mainly, to make a
No, it's not another documentary on Ron Jeremy. Thank God.
When it comes to stories concerning the most esoteric and eccentric of life's inhabitants, our brothers and sisters in France almost always take the cake. Rarely do filmmakers from other countries depict someone wandering about in a self-absorbed haze, questioning what the very purpose of their existence is for, and spouting the most pretentious of soliloquies like the French do. And Mona Achache's The Hedgehog — a 2009 motion picture adaptation of Muriel Barbary's novel, The Elegance of the Hedgehog — is certainly no exception: only this time, our filmic philosophical tutor is a depressed, suicidal eleven-year-old girl. Determined to
From Roy Rogers to Jonah Hill, and from Willem Dafoe to Seann William Scott: who makes the grade?
Sometimes, you just never know what movie you want to pick out to watch. Artwork and taglines deceptively lure you in with promise of instant crowd-pleasing classics, only to deliver epic turds instead. Other times, those films that actually warrant a viewing are given such lurid presentations, that you pass 'em by completely -- assuming they're just more fodder for the never-ending direct-to-video hell we've brought upon ourselves. So, in a vain effort to spare you the extreme pain of some of the downright dreadful movies out there, and hopefully clue you in as to the existence of a few
For fans only. The rest of us tuned out long ago.
When Leverage first aired on TNT several years back, the modern-day spin on the classic espionage series Mission: Impossible seemed like a novel one. Sadly, by the time the second season rolled around, the show's writers had already found themselves becoming formulaic and repetitive — a routine that kept on going until, finally, the whole series felt like a needle stuck in a groove. So, when you roll around to the fourth season, where do you take your characters when you don't have all that much going on in terms of writing and delivery (not to mention plot) in the
An enjoyable, exploitative throwback to Mel Gibson's cinematic past.
Of all the fallen Mels out there eager to make a comeback (Mel B., Mel C., Mel Sharples) with the whole world, perhaps none struggles as much as Mel Gibson. More than half a decade after his initial fall from the limelight, everything he has ever said and done since then has been highly publicized and scrutinized alike — everything except the movies he has made, that is. Get the Gringo finds Mel returning to the tough, imperfect type of character we all used to love him so much for. Sadly, the film received next to no theatrical distribution in
The lost forerunner to the more-delightful Frankie Avalon days of AIP.
Released only five months before he was to become a cult icon in the epic Beach Party films, singer/actor Frankie Avalon found himself in one of his first co-starring roles in this American-International Picture release. True to AIP form, the advertising campaign was about as misleading as could be — depicting the film as more of a romantic comedy than anything. But, with a hot young recording star cast just below the already established Tab Hunter, and a supporting cast consisting of Scott Brady, Jim Backus, Michael Dante, and Eva Six, it would have been pretty hard for Operation Bikini
The Three Stooges: Rare Treasures from the Columbia Pictures Vault DVD Review: An Excellent Collection of Odds and Ends
A release that definitely lives up to its name.
Anyone who has always been a fan of the immortal slapstick comedy The Three Stooges brought us over the course of several decades and was around to remember the glorious days of home video in the '80s and '90s will no doubt recollect the various VHS releases we used to get in the stores (to say nothing of LaserDisc and Beta in the early days). They consisted of three shorts per cassette (rarely totaling over 45-minutes) and the classics seemed to be chosen at random. When DVD came about, we were treated to digital releases which contained more titles per
Ever wonder where both Bernard Fox and Ken Adam got their start?
With all the great American film noir movies out there, forever leaving their mark on experienced and newbie fans of cinema everywhere, it's easy to forget that countries like England have contributed heavily to the genre. Sadly, many of them wind up getting swept underneath the giant carpet of time, waiting for the day when someone finds them and gives them a little distribution. One such forgotten item is a British flick that was originally entitled Soho Incident, but which was given the more lurid moniker Spin a Dark Web for its 1956 debut in the U.S. Here, the one
I'm not sure if I'm supposed to love it or loathe it.
Out of all the television producing and filmmaking countries in the world, there are perhaps two that Americans love to borrow (or perhaps, steal) from more than any other. One is that magical, mystical country of France — a land not only of baguettes and tiny clove cigarettes, but which has absolutely nothing to do with this piece whatsoever. The other is the Land of Oz itself: Australia — which has quite a lot to do with this review, since Wilfred is an American remake of an Aussie television comedy of the same name that initially aired in Oz back
Luigi Bastardo takes a look at six recent Blu-ray releases guaranteed to either delight or degrade.
It's time to let our fingers wander through the shelves as I introduce you to a new feature, Mondo Bastardo (kudos to George White for the name). For this preliminary article, I bring you a peek at several recent Blu-ray releases that are guaranteed to either delight or degrade. Included here are the double feature releases of The Grand Duel and Keoma as well as The Stranger and Kansas City Confidential, and single releases of D.O.A. (1988), 42nd Street Forever: Blu-ray Edition, Midsomer Murders: Set 19, and The Red House (1947). Enjoy. Spaghetti Western Double Feature: The Grand Duel /
The man who captured Eichmann before Arliss Howard.
Though their contributions to mankind will — thankfully — never be looked upon in a positive light by anyone other than skinheads and wacko politicians, Hitler's Third Reich has at least made for an endless source of motion picture entertainment over the years. But whereas certain filmmakers have strived for straight-up exploitation, others have touched upon more factual affairs. In the case of the 1979 ABC TV movie The House on Garibaldi Street, we get a primetime account of the capture of Adolf Eichmann — one of the most notorious SS officers behind the Holocaust — who escaped to Argentina
Julia Roberts delivers yet another god-awful performance in this abysmal comedy.
When I sat down to soil myself in horror over the fetidness only Mirror Mirror could deliver, I had to take a few moments to look back and ask myself "Has Julia Roberts ever truly made even one good movie?" The answer to that was a very stern "No," of course: even the truly best movies that happen to have featured her had been hampered by her appearance — a fact that begged me to question whether or not she is even a decent actress to begin with. But then — before I could answer that one — I found
Keye Luke's elevation to the character of Charlie Chan hits DVD via the Warner Archive.
Ever since his very first moving picture appearance in the now-lost 1926 film The House Without a Key, Charlie Chan had only ever been portrayed by an actor of Chinese descent but once — and that was in the 1972 Hanna-Barbera cartoon, The Amazing Chan and the Chan Clan. Veteran Hollywood actor Keye Luke — a character actor fondly remembered by many as Lee Chan, the Number One Son to Charlie Chan in several Fox and Monogram mysteries made between 1935 and 1948 — escalated up the ranks to portray Mr. Chan himself. Sure, Luke's much-needed representation of Earl Derr
"Don't be surprised when a crack in the ice appears under your feet."
As someone who occasionally forms ideas and words together with the hopes of someday turning them into an actual bona fide story, the nightmare of having another person completely rewrite your work for the sake of making a moving picture more acceptable to "mainstream" (read: obtuse) moviegoing audiences is a completely realistic one to me. But even completing your opus the way you envisioned it isn't always enough to make it through the cold dark tunnel of studio executivedom: sometimes, somebody is told re-edit your entire movie, re-title it, re-score it, and release it with a trailer that makes it
Another enjoyably bad brain-dead b-western from Monogram Pictures.
From the very first time the moving picture industry first started showing double features at the bijou every Saturday to an entire generation of bored children, the b-western became a hot commodity with no-budget filmmakers. The poorly-dressed suits at Monogram Studios — one of the most (in)famous Poverty Row film companies ever to grace the silver screen — were certainly no exception to cranking out run-of-the-mill cowboy movies for the masses, creating short-lived franchise heroes (often with has-been silent stars) after another in order to give the same recycled stories Monogram's writers used time and time again some unlikely inkling
If you love classic noir, this is a must-have.
When soldiers pass their prime, they look forward to assistance from the VA. When a judge retires, he or she starts to count on their local bartender for support. But when it came time for an actress like Joan Crawford, Ida Lupino, Esther Williams, or Merle Oberon to be cast astray from the studios that made them famous, they had but one place to go: Universal-International. During the '50s, the recently renamed company began to pick up former A-List starlets for a reasonable "Well, at least I'm still working" rates, catering to them with specially-written screenplays based on their own
A taut World War II drama from the studio that dripped blood.
Based on the 1958 BBC teleplay of the same name, the 1959 World War II drama Yesterday's Enemy brings us an account of the Big One from a different perspective. Yes, we've all witnessed various tales of American soldiers in the Asian jungles, as we have seen patriotic yarns depicting the struggles in Europe on the behalf of our British brothers. With Yesterday's Enemy, however, we get to see something altogether different: the plight of a British regiment in the Burmese jungles fighting against the Japanese. Sure, it's very similar to most other WWII flicks, but when you take into
An enjoyable B-Movie that fires real bullets and shells.
The very thought of an action film starring non-actors can send chills up your spine. Imagine what might have happened if Clint Eastwood positively sucked at the fine art of performing whilst cast in Dirty Harry, or Kurt Russell had no clue whatsoever when he was bringing Snake Plissken to life in Escape from New York. Or, for the full effect of genuine horror, think of any film starring Chuck Norris, Jean-Claude Van Damme, or Steven Seagal wherein the aforementioned B-Movie icons weren't even as proficient at their legendary, individual brands of chuckle-inducing stiltedness as they are. Pretty scary thought,
A serious contender for Worst Film of 2012.
Well, boys and girls, that clown Nicolas Cage has done it again: absconded with a heap of dough, and leaving behind a pile of something quite smelly in his wake. This time, though, he's gone overboard — delivering what has to be his worst intentionally-hammy performance ever (which — and let's be honest, here — is saying an awful lot) as he reprises the role of Johnny Blaze, the tortured feller who made a deal with the Devil and is now doomed to suck the souls out of evildoers. Interestingly, Cage himself is said to have formed a pact with
Don't you mean "Badass"? You're talking about a putrid heinder otherwise!
For those of you who saw and enjoyed Machete as much as I did, you might have found yourself wondering at one point or another "How does one go about recreating the magic Machete had?" Well, if you're Robert Rodriguez, all you need do is make another Machete movie with Danny Trejo in the lead. If you're not Robert Rodriguez, then all you really should do is not try. At all. Case in point: Craig Moss' inept attempt to make a modern exploitation flick, Bad Ass — a film that is very loosely-based on the infamous viral video of white
An excellent example of what happens when an above-average story is shipped off to the B-Unit department.
There's nothing I like more than sitting back and watching a good ol' B-Western, and 1953's The Last Posse is my cup of tea. But this isn't your average cowboy film fare, folks — this one has a strange bit of intrigue and noir woven into its material. Filmed in the beautiful rocky terrain of Lone Pine, California, this forgotten Columbia Pictures gem stars the great Broderick Crawford and a young John Derek (their third feature together), and tells the tale of a small sheriff's posse that rode out of Roswell, New Mexico one day to apprehend a trio who
A contemporary, colorless take on Design for Living.
Late last year, I had the pleasure of reviewing the wonderful 1933 comedy Design for Living — the story about two men who both fall for the same girl and decide to form a "gentlemen's agreement" to remain friends with each other as well as the woman in question. Of course, times have changed. Were you to make a film like Design for Living today, you'd wind up with something so pedestrian and impractical, you'd have to hire some hack like McG to direct, a lousy writer such as Simon (X-Men: The Last Stand) to write, and a number of
A lousy show, but a great presentation.
My first viewing experience of Jerry Bruckheimer's Without a Trace really wasn't much of a voluntary one. I was reviewing another Bruckheimer production, CSI: Crime Scene Investigation - The Eighth Season, at another (now defunct) site and one of the bonus features was the Season Six episode of Without a Trace "Where and Why" -- which was only included as it was a crossover episode to the CSI episode, "Who and What." Frankly, I wasn't too terribly impressed with what I saw: the writing seemed pretty simplistic, and the performances were fairly mediocre at best. I figured it was just
Robert Downey, Jr. and Guy Ritchie should take notes.
It doesn’t matter we're talking about a gifted mathematician or an extremely skilled plumber: every genius is that of a flawed one. Even the fictional individuals. And there is no better proof than Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's immortal character of Sherlock Holmes. Portrayed on big and small screens alike countless times since his first published appearance in 1887, the character of Sherlock is — without a doubt — the most popular of all fabricated creations to appear in film and television. He's also the most freely-adapted character, having served as the inspiration for House, M.D. and more. Of course, with
How do you get into a World War II flick when someone says "A'ight"?
If there is any one subject that doesn't get enough screen time, it's that of the Tuskegee Airmen. These legends of the air have been in dire need of a big-budgeted, heartfelt, genuine dramatization of their deeds for decades now (cable-TV movies with Laurence Fishburne notwithstanding) that tell the real story. Sadly, the Lucasfilm production of Red Tails — a PG-13 offering about the brave black pilots who gave their all during World War II, which stars Terrence Howard and Cuba Gooding, Jr. — is not the film we've been waiting for. It's rare these days to see a moving
It takes a little man to accomplish a big feat. Or something like that.
Once again, it's time for us to dive into another vintage Hanna-Barbera classic from the folks at Warner Brothers. While not as famously known as its brethren Scooby-Doo Where Are You? or The Flintstones, the '70s cartoon Inch High, Private Eye has achieved its own following over the years. Lasting only one season, the NBC morning kiddie show originally ran from 1973 to 1974, and brought us the amusing exploits of a bumbling private detective known as Inch High. His name is an appropriate one, too: Inch is literally only one-inch in height. Though he is employed at the Finkerton
A low-budget prison drama from Amicus Productions' Max Rosenberg and Milton Subotsky.
Prior to their great success in the British horror film industry with the highly prolific Amicus Productions, American-born filmmakers Max Rosenberg and Milton Subotsky cranked out a number of tiny-budgeted movie musicals that were mostly aimed at teenage audiences. In 1959, just a year away from producing the atmospheric classic Horror Hotel, Milton and Max fashioned a minor prison drama called The Last Mile, which was based on the popular 1930 play by John (Angels with Dirty Faces) Wexley — a project that had been filmed several times before as well as produced many times onstage. But, whereas the original
There's magic out there. Well, maybe not in this series, but…
While police procedurals are and always have been a dime a dozen when it comes to television shows, the horror genre has almost always left something to be desired. Well, let me rephrase that: it has always left something to be desired if it's anything other than an anthology show like Tales from the Crypt or whatnot. When studio execs decide to give the greenlight to something such wholly other, however, you can usually bet your bottom dollar that the end result will be disastrous. One glorious and ultimately thorough example is the recent ABC failure The River, which combined
Criterion brings us six seldom-seen surreal ditties from five masterful directors.
You never really know what to expect from the more "arty" contributions the world of international cinema has to offer us. When the Criterion Collection released A Hollis Frampton Odyssey earlier in the year, I found myself being tortured by a self-absorbed artiste's experimentations with celluloid. With Pearls of the Czech New Wave, however — a collection of oddities from assorted filmmakers of the former Central European state now available under Criterion's Eclipse banner — I found the pretentious art-lover in me at long last emerging. Of course, I have always preferred New Wave over avant-garde art any ol' day,
Kate Beckinsale returns for another easy paycheck.
Like its zombie counterpart — the increasingly-tedious Resident Evil series — the vampire/werewolf Underworld film franchise has now reached a point so low that you have to wonder if it's even possible for this entire legacy to even have a nadir. With the first three films just barely piquing past the point of being tolerable as it stands (and that praise in itself is somewhat debatable), it's fairly plausible that a fourth feature — especially one that creeped into cinemas without any advance screening for critics — will have just enough steam in it to elevate it slightly above the
James Caan sinks into one sappy quagmire of a film.
During the '70s and '80s, there was an onslaught of Neil Simon plays being adapted in movies. He was at his peek in both venues, penning one hit for the stage, and then rewriting it for the screen. Sure, he created a number of comical masterpieces like Murder by Death and The Cheap Detective during that time, but he also wrote several sappy semi-autobiographical dramedies like Only When I Laugh and The Goodbye Girl — most of which starred his then-wife Marsha Mason as a slightly-fictionalized, overly-dramatic version of herself, with a nice Jewish boy like Judd Hirsch or Richard
Yet another "best of" set that fails to deliver.
In all the world of home media, there is perhaps nothing as dreaded as the proverbial "best of" compilation — especially when it comes to cartoons. Instead of just releasing television shows or theatrical shorts in their original, unedited chronological order, some distributors insist on tossing a group of items together onto a single disc and calling it good. The latest assemblage of animation to hit the shelves of video stores near and far is something called Tom and Jerry: Around the World, and brings us nearly three hours of hijinks from the classic cat and mouse pairing. Unfortunately, this
A heartfelt but nevertheless fabricated biography of America's longest running comedy team.
Though he is not at all seen as being the quintessential spokesperson for people of Jewish heritage today, there was a time when the once-powerful Mel Gibson thought very highly of the legendary comedy team of the Three Stooges (of whom the original members were Jewish) — enough so that he felt the urge to produce an emotional, Made-for-TV biopic about them. In 2000, The Three Stooges was beamed to television sets across the nation, garnering mostly lukewarm reviews from the few folks who actually bothered watching the primetime feature that evening — only to fade (somewhat quickly) into obscurity
Walmart presents a direct-to-video sequel to a direct-to-video sequel of a remake. Yay.
It’s rare you see a movie these days that bears an honest-to-goodness G rating. I figured the MPAA just up and quit assigning them altogether. Of course, when you get right down to the heart of the matter, the possibility of a G-rated movie even being any good is about as likely as meeting an interesting Walmart greeter. Speaking of Walmart, their latest direct-to-video exclusive, a G-rated something that is labeled as Flicka: Country Pride in the advertising, but which bears the actual onscreen title of Flicka 3 — something that immediately begs the question “Wait, there was a Flicka
Once again, Something Weird is afoot — and I'm pleased as punch about it.
In the middle of 2007, a crushing blow was delivered to the lovers of the truly bizarre, the sleazy, and the entirely otherworldly when the seven-year-old partnership between Image Entertainment and Something Weird Video ceased to be. Although the dedicated folks at Something Weird continued to release more strange ditties upon the unsuspecting world via their wonderful website, there seemed to be something ultimately missing overall — as we stopped seeing stores carry deranged goodies like Please Don't Eat My Mother, Doctor Gore, and the double feature offerings of gems such as Alley Tramp and Over 18...and Ready! Earlier this
This is one weird sequel to W.
Whenever a singer ventures over into the world of motion pictures, the results are usually dire. Let’s take Madonna’s career in film, for example. More importantly, let us examine how many truly awful movies she appeared in. From Shanghai Surprise to Swept Away, it seems that a majority of Madonna’s performances in front of the camera have wound up either receiving Razzie nominations, extreme backlash from critics and the public alike, or has gone down in history as one of the worst films of the year. Even her cameo in Die Another Day — arguably one of the dumbest James
Buckle up and prepare for three, forgotten grey market '70s movies, kids.
A good exploitation filmmaker is quick to cash in on a craze. Unfortunately, most of the bad ones are, too. In the ‘70s, the industry of trucking had transformed into a phenomenon of epic proportions. Truck drivers were seen by the public as modern-day cowboys and outlaws (a far cry from the image we have stuck in our heads today every time we see another moronic Walmart driver overturn his rig) -- and there were numerous filmmakers across the nation (especially the lower states) anxious to make a buck off of America’s enthusiasm over the subject. Recently, the folks at
Rita, Frankie, and Kim shine — as does Twilight Time's presentation.
"Some guys have a system with horses, and I got a system with dames. It's a snap. You treat a dame like a lady, and you treat a lady like a dame." —Joey Evans (Frank Sinatra) on the subject of romance. You know you’re a popular fellow when you’re being thrown onto a train by the police and told to never come back. And that’s just what happens to Joey Evans (Frank Sinatra) at the opening of the 1957 romantic musical drama, Pal Joey, after he has been caught cavorting with a young lady from the respectable side of the
MGM dives into their own tombs to excavate an '50s horror obscurity.
It’s too bad that Joe Flaherty’s epic SCTV character Count Floyd never hosted an actual bona fide version of “Monster Chiller Horror Theater” on late-night weekend television. Were he to have done so, you could bet your bottom dollar that the 1957 mummy flick Pharaoh’s Curse would have shown up on his roster of campy forgotten movies. And, just like he did on SCTV, he probably would have been found administering a much-needed facepalm to his mug during the cutaway sequences — only to snap out of it and quickly try to reassure the bored kids at home that something
Shootings galore, nudity en masse, and common sense in short supply.
There’s nothing worse than a tale of good boys gone bad. Well, actually, there are: in the case of the 1976 Italian crime thriller Young, Violent, Dangerous, the movie itself is far worse than the message of uncertainty it was meant to deliver to begin with. No, I take that back — it’s clear from the get-go that Romolo Guerrieri’s exploitative tale of three fellers on a killing spree was most certainly not supposed to carry any sort of significance whatsoever. I’m fairly certain of that, at least. Nevertheless, the movie succeeds in what it sets out to do: live
A larger-than-life, captivating feature starring Walter Brennan and Dana Andrews.
The legendary Okefenokee Swamp of Georgia has always presented its share of challenges. For some, it’s a difficulty in pronouncing it correctly. For others, the test of time has been the spelling of it. It is for those who live around it, however, that the Okefenokee Swamp presents its greatest dare: survival — something the local yokels of Jean Renoir’s Swamp Water (aka The Man Who Came Back) can easily attest to. Countless men have wandered into the foreboding, murky bog only to never be seen again. And, as Renoir’s tale (his first in America) of life, love, death and
Okay, so maybe it's no picnic, but it is damn good.
Sometimes, all it takes is for one stranger to come-a-roamin’ into town for everything and everyone to change. In the case of 1955’s Picnic — the first and by far the best adaptation of William Inge’s famous stage play — that stranger is a man by the name of Hal Carter (portrayed by the one and only William Holden). Once upon a time, Hal was the quintessential embodiment of the all-American boy: a college football hero who had a way with the ladies, and the potential to become a moving picture star to boot. Alas, those days are behind him
Dumb? Yes. But it has an enjoyable 1950s drive-in movie feel to it.
“I’m trying to keep my freak-out on the inside!” —Sean (Emile Hirsch), as he and his pals are attacked by invisible aliens (!). Anyone who has read even a sample of my reviews on contemporary cinema knows that modern movies usually make me roll my eyes towards the heavens and shout “Why, oh, why?” But then, every once in a while, somebody makes a stupid B-movie that appeals to that side of me that truly adores low-budget films. And, while The Darkest Hour certainly isn’t a great achievement by any means — in fact, calling it an “achievement” is really
A Night to Remember (1958) Criterion Collection Blu-ray Review: A Stunning Presentation for a Genuine Classic
I've never paid to see James Cameron's film, but I'd gladly pay ten-times over to see this one again and again.
“I don’t think the Board of Trade regulations visualized this situation.” —Capt. Edward John Smith (Laurence Naismith), upon learning his ship is going to sink. Well, since I know there is absolutely no chance whatsoever (during anyone’s lifetime) that James Cameron will apologize to the entire population of the whole planet for making a certain overrated and pretentious moving picture nightmare about the Titanic (I see no need to mention the name of the film outright), I suppose someone else will have to do it for him And, while I assume no responsibility for his actions — I don’t even
"Mama, mama, I keep having Nightmares. Mama, mama, mama, am I ill?"
They say that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. And, while they may be correct in their assumption, they obviously never saw Australia’s 1980 contribution to the slasher/giallo genre, Nightmares. Originally released in the U.S. under the title Stage Fright, this Ozploitation thriller begins with an adolescent lass named Cathy, who causes the demise of her mother (and her mum’s lover) after causing an automobile accident — and (inadvertently) finishing the job by rubbing her matriarch’s throat upon the shattered windshield. In the hospital, Cathy again embraces her dark side — slashing her own father’s face with broken glass.
A feel-good family flick that tries to make you feel a lot more than you need to. In fact, it gets downright pushy at times.
As soon as you see the words “From the Director of Jerry Maguire” on the cover of We Bought a Zoo, you have to wonder if you’re about to step into a great big heaping pile of animal muck. Thankfully, though, such is not the case here. Well, not entirely, that is. The story here — based on a memoir of the same name by former British columnist Benjamin Mee — brings us the account of a widowed American father of two (Matt Damon), who packs up his children and belongings one day and moves into a charming, spacious new
Rock Hudson leads a group of orphaned Italian kids into war against the Nazis.
As anyone that can even vaguely recollect their years in school can attest to, kids can be cruel. And Rock Hudson finds out the hard way in Hornets’ Nest, an all-but-forgotten Euro war flick originally released in 1970. Sporting his infamous ‘70s moustache for (presumably) the first time, the Rock stars here as the sole survivor of a doomed American unit dropped behind Nazi lines in Italy during World War II. Nearly killed along with all of his comrades after parachuting in (during footage that was excised from the final cut, and only survives in the trailer), Hudson is saved
A grandiose piece of Russian cinema that depicts the triumph of the human spirit.
A survival flick from Russia? Well, I suppose if there was one civilization that has learned to adapt, it was the one that belonged to our cousins of the former Soviet Union — who had to endure many hardships from the formation of their state in 1922 until the dissolution of it in 1991. Midway through the Socialist regime, filmmaking — which had previously been controlled by the government — was beginning to flourish, and there were many pioneers finding their way behind the camera to film some of the most atmospheric and masterful productions most Americans have never seen.
A film that rightfully deserved the Oscar it won.
Based on the debut novel of Hawaiian born writer Kaui Hart Hemmings, The Descendants stars the always-great George Clooney as Matt King, a lawyer in Honolulu whose everyday, ordinary existence comes to a crashing halt when his wife falls into a coma following a motorboat accident. A self-described “back-up” parent, Matt now finds himself having to take care of his rebellious ten-year-old daughter, Scottie (Amara Miller) — an act he is completely unprepared for, as he is in the midst of a land deal with a major developer. The land in question — 25,000 acres of virgin Hawaiian land —
Another weird and wacky oddity from Eddie Romero.
How does one even begin to describe Savage Sisters? Well, first off, it’s a film from the one and only Eddie Romero — the infamous Filipino schlock auteur responsible for the Blood Island movies — so that might give some of you reading this a clue as to what the movie will be like right then and there. Like several of Romero’s English-language exploitation productions, Savage Sisters features the late, great John Ashley in a prominent role. Here, Ashley (who also co-produced) co-stars as W.P. Billingsley, a shady Southern boy in a Banana Republic who introduces the story (as well
A film that brings justice to the genre of courtroom dramas.
Surprisingly, during all those years that I spent sitting in front of my television as a kid, watching one classic film after another, Otto Preminger’s Anatomy of a Murder never found its way into my videocassette player. Even as I matured (if you want to call where I’m at in life “mature”), the 1959 courtroom drama still eluded my field of vision — finally finding its way to my world years later after it was inducted into the prestigious Criterion Collection. And now, some 25 years after I first saw it on the shelves and passed it up for some
The new ending of the lengthier cut of the already-long two-hour-plus feature is an appropriate one -- but is it worth it?
After making his feature-length directorial debut in 2007 with his crime drama Gone Baby Gone, many people started to believe that actor Ben Affleck was finally on his way to redeeming himself for movies like Pearl Harbor, Paycheck, and several other abominations that should have been titled Paycheck since that's all they really were. And then, in 2010, Ben ventured once more into the territory of onscreen thievery with The Town — a film based on Chuck Hogan's novel Prince of Thieves, and one that was well-praised by moviegoers and critics alike. Personally, I thought The Town was an okay
Larry the Cable Guy in a pink leotard farting fairy dust — yes, that's EXACTLY what I wanted to see.
Someday, when we reach that climactic moment in history wherein we hold “comedian” like Larry the Cable Guy responsible for their crimes against humanity (i.e. the amputation of an entire nation’s collective moral and intelligence quotient), they can sit before a jury of open-minded individuals who aren’t amused by homophobic and racial slurs and try to justify making stupid, unwanted, direct-to-videos movies like Tooth Fairy 2. Yes, folks, Larry the Cable Guy — a guy whose racist redneck humor has been tarnishing the overall American image for far too long — has been cast in yet another kiddie film: an
A haunting masterpiece starring Thomas Jane, Rob Lowe, Jeremy Piven, and Christian McKay.
Anyone who has ever experienced failure knows what it feels like. Sure, it’s relatively easy to get over a slight case of minor disappointment (like going to see an Adam Sandler movie and expecting something good), but what about those more disparaging events — you know, the ones that really get under your skin? I Melt with You focuses on that breakdown of life many individuals undergo at some point in life — though the way the movie’s protagonists handle their respective situations is not at all recommended by the Surgeon General, the Pope, or anyone with even an inkling
A low-budget affair that really isn't worth your time.
Can somebody please explain to me where the western genre went wrong? Even when I look at a really bad singing-cowboy movie from the early part of the 20th century, I still see them as being infinitely more dignified than their modern-day counterparts. Today’s major Hollywood projects — as decent as they occasionally are — are somewhat akin to old, worn-out gunfighters: bloated and sluggish, and whose efforts in life generally go by relatively unnoticed. And then there are those rampaging Made-for-TV and Direct-to-Video movies who roam the land like desperados evading the authorities near and far — movies like
I'm afraid Columbus just doesn't succeed in coming to a full circle.
Over twenty years ago, I saw the great Kevin Pollak for the first time on cable TV doing a killer parody of Star Trek. While I'm not the most ardent admirer of anyone (outside of Arch Hall, Jr. or Grady Sutton, that is), I do tend to watch a movie the actor/comedian is in -- if I know he's in it, that is. In the case of Columbus Circle, Pollak has returned to one of his lesser-known trades: the penning of a serious story. Unfortunately, as much as I like Mr. Pollak's work, I'm afraid Columbus just doesn't succeed in
A forgotten flick from the 20th Century Fox vaults finally finds a home.
"They have to capture, kill, destroy everything -- all that's beautiful has to go, all that's free. Soon we'll be alone on this Earth with nothing else left to destroy but ourselves." Those words, uttered by Trevor Howard towards the beginning of The Roots of Heaven are just as true today than they were in 1958 -- as is the message of John Huston's adaptation of Romain Gary's novel, Les Racines du Ciel. Filmed on location in Chad (the very heart of Africa), the big-budgeted Twentieth Century Fox film from producer Darryl F. Zanuck focuses on an preservationist named Morel
Twilight Time brings us a genuine obscurity, and the results are hauntingly pleasing.
Prior to the advent of home video, it was very easy for a movie to simply fall far into the deepest recesses of time, where they would lie in wait to be discovered many years later. Indeed, even after we were able to watch motion pictures in private, some movies still eluded us. One such title is 1965's Rapture -- an adaptation of Phyllis Hastings' Rapture in My Rags (oh, how I'm glad they didn't retain the original literary title!) directed by John Guillermin -- a film that most audiences have rarely had the opportunity to see outside of cable
A hodgepodge of powerhouse moments interjected with a lot of ho-hummery.
Have you ever seen an overzealous costume drama that reveled in its own fantastical wardrobe department more than anything? Clint Eastwood's J. Edgar is kind of like that, only it gets caught up in its advanced makeup effects instead -- prompting me to declare it a "makeup drama." Like its clothing-oriented period-piece cousins, this Hollywood spectacle brings us a fictionalized account of the life of the notorious and enigmatic architect of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, J. Edgar Hoover. And a Tinseltown exhibition it is, too: in keeping up with the many other ambitious biopics that preceded it, J. Edgar
I'm something of a "Mandrill" myself, if you know what I mean.
Americans aren't the only ones who can make modern grindhouse movies. Our cousins in Chile evidently took a cue from Robert Rodriguez and Quentin Tarantino's more recent endeavors and created this campy action flick that obviously is paying its respect to classic European crime dramas (and the Grand Theft Auto video game series, as one might note upon viewing the movie's choice of font for its credits), with the extremely agile Marko Zaror cast in the lead. Unfortunately, writer/producer/director Ernesto Diaz Espinoza's Mandrill doesn't hold a candle to its predecessors, and instead just comes off as something of a mess.
Warner's barebones disc delivers pristine-looking shorts coupled with timeless laughs.
As some of us sit and wonder if we'll ever see one über-definitive ginormous anthology that delivers every Looney Tunes short ever made, we have little choice but to settle for individually themed titles, such as the Looney Tunes Super Stars series. While Warner Brothers have released several dozen different Looney Tunes packages on DVD over the last ten years, it would appear that the character of Pepé Le Pew had always been placed on the back burner for said sets -- only making an appearance here and there, but never receiving his own collection. Fortunately, that blunder has been
The writer/director and star of Fighting reunite to bring us something just as boring.
New York City-based filmmaker Dito Montiel teams up once again with Channing Tatum -- his star of 2009's Fighting -- to bring us another hard-hitting look at life on the wrong side of the tracks in The Son of No One. This time 'round, the rarely animated Tatum takes the lead as a cop in Queens with a troubled past and a nagging wife (Katie Holmes, one of many turn-offs this movie's cast has to offer) and a physically ill daughter at home. While things are hardly 100% kosher for Channing to begin with, his professional and personal lives grow
The Deadly Spawn Blu-ray Review: A Wonderful Slice of Gory, Cheapo '80s Sci-Fi / Horror that Delivers
Elite Entertainment returns from the grave with a disappointing "High-Def" release.
One of the most cherished memories of my mostly-wasted teenage years was the time I spent renting obscure horror and science fiction movies from the video store. Back then, there were several video stores in the small community I lived in, and the bigger ones offered a "five movies (on VHS) for five days for five dollars" package. Seeing that I was already a very mad-about-motion-pictures kind of lad, I was back at the store every other day (my visits were sometimes more frequent than that -- there wasn't much else for me to do, folks), and my list of
What, they can't find a good print of The Secret of Magic Island, but they can release THIS on Blu-ray?
Normally, I'm one to welcome a kooky French flick with open arms and baguette. In the case of the French/Canadian co-production Treasure Train, originally known as The Emperor of Peru, I couldn't help but feel I was being punished for something -- though I'm not sure what dastardly sin I committed to incur the wrath of this unforgiving kiddie film. The story mostly centers on a trio of young children: a brother and sister named Toby and Liz (and played, respectively by Jonathan Starr and Anick -- who, thankfully, never went on to do anything ever again), and a Cambodian
One of the rare films where German great Curd Jürgens plays a good guy.
Just one year after the disastrous debut of Orson Welles' Touch of Evil in 1958, the mighty auteur found himself in Ferry to Hong Kong, a low-budget British production set and filmed in the Orient. Co-written and directed by Lewis Gilbert, who later went on to helm the James Bond movies You Only Live Twice, The Spy Who Loved Me, and Moonraker. Reminding me of the finale of The Three Stooges short Dizzy Pilots, wherein Moe Howard was covered in rubber and accidentally turned into a human balloon, Welles (complete with a ridiculous English accent) overdoes it to no end
Any movie that has a lounge singer is OK by me.
Anyone who has ever glanced at their horoscope can attest those astrological predictions are not always what they're cracked up to be. In fact, they are usually pretty cracked themselves. For poor Jake Gibson (Cam Gigandet, desperately trying to find a star attraction in order to wipe Twilight off his résumé), his horoscope couldn't be any more inaccurate. Promoting a five-star day, complete with the promise of an improvement in his professional and personal lives, Jake's day only results in him getting laid off; returning home only to find his girlfriend getting laid. And so, Jake sets out to prove
Best fit for a gloomy, snowed-in afternoon with a raw steak at your disposal.
Some of you may remember the 1993 film Alive, which depicted a Hollywood account of the fateful Uruguayan Air Force Flight 571 disaster of 1972. Seventeen years prior, Mexican exploitation filmmaker René Cardona produced a feature called Supervivientes de los Andes, which was released in America under the strikingly-similar-to-the-1993-title-Alive, Survive! (exclamation point included). Mexi/Euro superstar Hugo Stiglitz stars in this low-budget tale of survival, which was written for the screen by Cardona's son, René, Jr, who also brought us several other exploitative class-icks such as Beaks: The Movie, Guyana: Cult of the Damned, and The Night of a Thousand Cats
Hey, Catherine Zeta-Jones can use me for rebound sex any day.
Yup, it's another chick flick, kids. But what sets The Rebound apart from its multiple competitors out there is that this title tackles that often-taboo subject of an older woman bedding a younger fellow. Now, having been a cougar and MILF (not to mention psycho) magnet for many, many years, I can wholly relate to this premise -- and the moment wherein 25-year-old Aram Finkelstein (Justin Bartha) is being razzed by the friends of his twenty-years-his-senior girlfriend, Sandy (Catherine Zeta-Jones), brought back a irksome memory or two. The appealing part of the segment, of course, was that Aram is a
A weak WWII flick that only succeeds in dropping the wrong kind of bomb.
Sometimes, you just have to praise the almighty gods of film for the invention of stock footage. Having such a library of miscellaneous stuff on-hand is essential for movie and television producers, especially when they're establishing a location shot. Let's say a certain segment of a movie or TV show takes place in Thailand, but the cast and crew never so much as leave the confines of Hollywood. All one has to do is cue up some decades-old film that somebody shot whilst they were on vacation in Bangkok visiting and insert that footage with newly-shot studio scenes. It's that
Twilight Time presents us with another wonderful HD release.
Though most of his efforts to the world of film have been forgettable at best since, Tom Holland definitely made his mark on the map with his 1985 horror/comedy, Fright Night. Sure, Tom also brought us the original Child's Play (a wonderful notion, but one that became obscured once those awful sequels started being made) and the television mini-series of Stephen King's The Langoliers, but neither of those entries have anywhere near the bite (pardon the pun) that this campy vampire thriller has. To this day, I still remember being thoroughly impressed with the feature when my older brother brought
A wonderful tale from Charles Band and the makers of The Rocketeer.
It seems that, if there's a certain movie I want that hasn't been released on DVD yet, all I have to do is find an old videocassette of it and -- lo and behold -- I find out the very next day that it's due out as part of a Manufactured-on-Demand lineup. It's happened to me several times already, with Zone Troopers being the most recent. Here I was fortunate enough to find a good copy of the film on VHS from the ol' Lightning Video label in a video store one day, only to read the announcement that MGM
A good pick for the fan of vintage '50s sci-fi.
In September of 2003, I made one of my few trips away from home to attend the World 3D Film Expo I in Hollywood, CA at the historical Egyptian Theater. I wasn't able to afford tickets for all of the movies presented at the nine-day festival -- which really didn't matter since all of the really "famous" films were sold out anyway -- but I was able to see three B-grade science fiction flicks from the '50s: the infamous Robot Monster (one of my all-time favorites), the equally-bad Cat-Women of the Moon, and the critically-complimented 1954 Gog, directed by Herbert
Peter Fonda and Reb Brown "star" in another embarrassing Golan-Globus dud.
Back when the mystical movie workshop of the Cannon Group was still goin' strong, the filmmaking duo of Menahem Golan and Yoram Globus cranked out one B-movie action flick after another. Anyone who can vividly recall strolling through the aisles of a video store during the glorious days of VHS may also remember seeing the familiar Cannon logo on a number of videocassette sleeves, which were usually found on Media and MGM/UA releases. For some, the Cannon mark meant you pretty much knew what you were getting into should you have decided to rent one of their features. Low budgets,
A genuine prize for any Lewis lover.
Yes, you read that right: Jerry Lewis as The Jazz Singer. As if the 1980 musical version of Samson Raphaelson's famous play with Neil Diamond wasn't enough to have you rushing to the supermarket to buy a pound of bacon, you have to wonder what it'll be like with Jerry Lewis in the starring role. One glance at the title alone makes you wonder if it isn't some kind of parody as opposed to a being a bona fide "serious" offering -- and anyone who has ever witnessed Martin Short's excellent lampooning of Mr. Lewis will immediately wonder if this
I can't even see college brahs owning this one in their library.
For those of you who have ever found themselves lying awake in bed, unable to sleep, fathoming mysteries such as "Who in their right mind would hire Andy Dick to star in their movie?," your ship has just sailed in with Division III: Football's Finest. Marshall Cook, a young lad who produced and edited House Arrest with Andy Dick, has somehow felt the urge to expand a short film he made with Dick in 2006 (also called Division III) about a vile creature named Rick Vice who is hired to coach one of the nation's worst college football teams ever
Steve Martin, Jack Black, and Owen Wilson prove they still have something to give.
As Adolfo Celi's Emile Largo once said to Sean Connery's James Bond in Thunderball, "Every man has his passion." Now, why did I just reference my all-time favorite 007 flick in a review for an unsuccessful comedy starring Steve Martin, Jack Black, and Owen Wilson? Actually -- and this is going to sound weird given the films some of the three headlining comedians of this feature have produced as of late -- I found The Big Year to be one of the best comedies 2011, and one that the entire family can safely enjoy. In fact, as I look at
Twilight Time joyfully fills that gap in your Ray Harryhausen Blu-ray collection.
During the '50s and '60s, Hollywood was experimenting with one crazy newfangled idea after another: CinemaScope, surround sound, Jerry Lewis films, etc. Special effects, too, were breaking new grounds during this Atomic Age of filmmaking, and one young lad in particular -- a feller by the name of Ray Harryhausen -- quickly rose to become one of the most popular FX gurus in film history. Another lad -- one who had ceased to be amongst the living quite some time before -- was also a hot item: Jules Verne, the famous French science-fiction pioneer who had passed away in 1905.
Look at it this way: it's completely free of Julia Stiles and her patented pouty face!
Wait, they made a series out of that movie? Indeed they did! For those of us who don't bother paying outrageous monthly fees in order to keep up with the latest crap television networks dish out to otherwise intelligent audiences on an hourly basis, it may interest you to know that Disney turned their 1999 hit teen drama 10 Things I Hate About You into a TV show ten years after its source of inspiration came and went. In hindsight, their timing probably wasn't the best: the family dramedy was a short-lived one, lasting only a single season and twenty
So bad, it makes "It's Pat" look like a classic.
Dear Adam Sandler; Go to Hell. Please. For reals. Sincerely,Me When I first saw the previews for Bucky Larson: Born to Be a Star -- the latest travesty from Adam Sandler's Happy Madison Productions -- I thought to myself, "Whoa, that's gonna be a rough one." Soon, I heard what filmgoers and critics alike were saying about it. It wasn't good. It was nowhere near good. In fact, the publicity this flick was getting was so bad, that I simply had to see it for myself. Turns out that they were right: it's an awful flick. If Adam Sandler and
VCI wisely pairs up two forgotten curiosities -- and the results are pleasing.
Sometimes, I get this urge. A longing to sit back and switch off the more cerebral functions of that which all my therapists have claimed was in desperate need of some good medication and just watch some crazy old imports from Europe. They don't have to be great, but they do have to be dubbed into English. And I prefer them to be in black and white, especially if they tend to be a bit on the noir side and were made in what we used to call West Germany (you know, the nice ones). Oh, hey, what's this? VCI's
Selma Blair leads an all-star cast in a suspenseful murder mystery from Universal Studios Home Entertainment.
On March 6, 2012, Universal Studios Home Entertainment will unveil its latest thriller, Columbus Circle. Starring the talents of Selma Blair (Hellboy), Giovanni Ribisi (Contraband, Saving Private Ryan), Amy Smart (The Butterfly Effect, Varsity Blues), and Jason Lee (Alvin and the Chipmunks: Chip-Wrecked, TV's My Name is Earl), Columbus Circle is a dark, suspenseful tale of an agoraphobic heiress in Manhattan (Blair), who is unwittingly forced to meet her high-rise neighbors when a murder is committed. In order to escape the hounding public and press, Abigail (Blair), the famous daughter of a wealthy industrialist, secluded herself in her Manhattan loft
Luc Besson amalgamates all of his previous films into one.
They say you start to repeat yourself as you get older. This is evidently the case with Luc Besson, the pioneering French filmmaker who brought us such gems as La Femme Nikita, Subway, and Leon (aka The Professional) in the '80s and '90s. As I watched the low-key 2011 release of Colombiana -- wherein Monsieur Besson served as a co-writer and producer -- I couldn't help but get a certain feeling of déjà vu. The story here tells of a young Columbian woman (Zoë Saldana) whose parents were murdered before her eyes in the '80s, and has since grown into
A wacky half-giallo/half-horror offering from Lamberto Bava.
Listening to Modest Mussorgsky's powerful "Night on Bald Mountain" can prompt men to do very strange things. In the case of Walt Disney, it inspired him to whip hallucinating animators into making Fantasia. For one particular tortured young soul (François Montagut), however, listening to the strains of the aforementioned famous classical composition urges him to kill seemingly-random people with a nice big shiny kitchen knife. But he doesn't stop there. Oh, no. This assailant likes to take a souvenir from each of his victims -- hands, livers, stuff like that -- which he wraps up and "hand" delivers to an
It's Dolph Lundgren vs. the Renaissance Faire rejects.
While many moviegoers and critics alike curse the fact that he was ever born in the first place, I think the real shame is that Uwe Boll was born when he was. His infamous, rapidly manufactured brand of B-Grade movies are generally considered to be the bane of modern filmmaking by a majority of people; who, I should point out, are the same folks that willingly pay to see Tom Cruise films. Now, had the German filmmaker been brought into our world a few decades sooner, I fully believe he would have produced a number of mind-blowing exploitation movies during
CFS Releasing drops the ball by giving us an out-of-sync Glenn Ford.
After the astonishing success of Steven Spielberg's Jaws in 1975, budget filmmakers around the world were determined to jump out into the money shower that ensued and grab a few falling coins. Some folks took the exact same premise of cinema's very first summer blockbuster and created their own version (whether it was in the water or on the land), some re-released already-made feature films that contained a man-eater in it (or at least the threat of one) and unleashed a re-titled bore upon unsuspecting moviegoers, while others copied the original film so blatantly that they were sued by Universal
Wait, Bogie? As a priest? Well, not quite.
Upon one's initial glance at the cover of Edward Dmytryk's The Left Hand of God, the common goad is to ask "Wait, this movie has Humphrey Bogart playing a priest?" Well, yes and no. The story starts out with a lone Man of the Cloth (Bogie) trotting along in a rainy, Chinese mountains -- with a gun. Shortly after he literally loses his ass, he finds his way to a remote village, wherein he introduces himself as Father O'Shea, the new spiritual leader of the local parish. But that's only half true: O'Shea is actually American World War II pilot
A superb guide for all future filmmakers of the world: "Don't let this happen to you."
Generally, when the modern-day monarchs of Hollywood decide to remake a classic motion picture, they opt to "re-envision" it instead of simply redoing something that somebody had already done before. They change the names of the characters, set their re-imagined stories in different locations, and usually add an altogether new tale all around. It's kind of like a witness protection program, really. In the case of Straw Dogs, the 2011 remake of Sam Peckinpah's unforgettable, groundbreaking tale from forty years before, screenwriter/director Rod Lurie decided to dispense with the "adding any originality" procedure into his feature -- giving us a
Criterion brings us a lovely HD release of Ernst Lubitsch's 1933 romantic comedy.
"It's amazing how a few insults can bring people together in three hours." "It was certainly good to hear all the names you called me. I haven't heard 'em since I left Father and Mother." Sometimes, I forget that the motion picture industry even had a pre-Hayes Code era, so when a movie from the early '30s is displayed before my eyes and mentions the (soon-to-be-forbidden) act of fornication between two guys and a gal, I can't help but smack the side of my head like you would an old tube television that was on the fritz. Shortly after I
"To avoid fainting, keep repeating: 'It's only a movie... It's only a movie'."
It is frequently hailed as one of the weirdest Christmas movies ever made. It was lampooned in the mid '90s on a memorable episode of Mystery Science Theater 3000. And its spirit -- Yuletide or otherwise -- simply refuses to lay down and die. It's Santa Claus, a truly bizarre Mexican fantasy film from 1959, directed by the venerable filmmaker René Cardona, who brought many projects to life over his long and illustrious career -- including all kinds of dramas, comedies, Luchador films, horror flicks, exploitation titles, and this. But what is this? Well, it's not an easy one to
Riccardo Freda's final outing is a wonderfully wacky mess of mayhem.
Michael Stanford (Stefano Patrizi) is a young actor who occasionally suffers from strange flashbacks concerning the death of his father, a noted orchestral conductor who everyone referred to as "the Maestro," and whom Michael murdered in order to protect his mother. After the nearly-disastrous last day of shooting on his new film -- wherein Michael almost accidentally strangles a beautiful young actress to death, he makes an effort to get away from it all by doing just that: getting away from it all. And so, Michael's off to his mother's remote estate along with his whiny girlfriend, Deborah (Silvia Dionisio),
A fine pairing of World War II quickies.
I have many guilty pleasures when it comes to film. Cliffhanger serials, Italian horror movies, European spy flicks -- I love 'em all. And, apart from kicking back at the end of the day to shut my brain off to a vintage b-grade western, one of my favorite ways to idly stare at the TV for hours on end is to watch a classic war film. Not so much the big-budgeted color spectacles with famous faces and runtimes the length of the California coast line, though. No, sir: I like my war films to be low-budget, black and white, short,
A strange but unbalanced combination of noir and comedy from the makers of Enter the Dragon.
Golden Needles is one of those movies that could have been better -- memorable, even -- had any of its crew actually cared enough to give a damn. Co-penned by former television writer S. Lee Pogostin and helmed by Enter the Dragon director Robert Clouse, Golden Needles is one of many motion pictures produced and distributed following the death of Bruce Lee -- a time when American filmmakers and moviegoers were experiencing a sudden Asian craze. They even bring in Enter the Dragon co-star Jim Kelly -- who was in the middle of his short but unique career -- for
Reality and fantasy collide in Richard Rush's masterful epic.
Director Richard Rush had a vision. He wanted to adapt The Stunt Man, a novel by Paul Brodeur, into a feature film. Unfortunately, studio executives were, naturally, apprehensive about backing him because they just didn't know what it was -- and it took a good nine years for Rush to get the project underway. Filmed in 1978, but not released until 1980 (chalk up another score for the studio heads, kids), The Stunt Man is an utterly absorbing and fascinating journey into "subjective reality" -- one that has so many underlying elements about the human psyche going on, it's easy
The Criterion Collection brings us a constructive release of this reconstructed classic.
I have no choice but to dismiss you. It breaks my heart, but I can't expose my guests to your firearms. It may be wrong of them, but they value their lives. - Marquis Robert de la Cheyniest (Marcel Dalio) to his trigger-happy groundskeeper, Edouard Schumacher (Gaston Modot). Anyone who's even remotely familiar with the Internet knows that it's pretty easy to find just about anything you're looking for -- from snow tires to prostitutes. It's also very common to see something shocking on the ol' Information Superhighway. Why, within mere minutes of his demise, images of the late Muammar
A forgotten "fish out of water" tale from the boys in the Band family.
Based on an idea by low-budget filmmaker Charles Band, the fanciful Ghost Warrior is a spin on the timeless "fish out of water" tale -- things that were later perfected (and subsequently hashed) by filmmakers in the '90s. We begin with a noble 16th Century samurai warrior (Hiroshi Fujioka) receiving a seemingly fatal slice of death after a failed attempt at rescuing his wife. Falling into the icy water below, Yoshimitsu is discovered in the frozen wastes of Japan four centuries later and brought back to life by a experimental cryogenics lab that uses laser light show projectors to revive
An epic, illustrious failure from Cannon Films and Golan-Globus.
Some movies are born unto greatness, achieving staggering heights of recognition rarely ever matched by imitators -- the likes of which seem to have been born solely to orally copulate and feast upon large, economy-sized containers of male genitalia. And then there are those other movies -- like 1981's ode to embarrassment, Enter the Ninja -- that are so utterly awful, they attain their own manner of renown. Put simply, Enter the Ninja is so bad, it's good -- and we can thank the infamous Cannon Film Group and the production team of Golan-Globus for bestowing this unforgettable "martial arts
A low-budget Seven Samurai made for the 007 market and starring Jack Palance as the good guy. What's not to like?
"Look, Limey: you swish your way, and I'll swish mine!" --Vigo (Aldo Ray) in drag, upset at being told how to sway his hips to make a more convincing woman. Aside from the drugs, music, political unrest, and sex, the '60s were perhaps best known for the persona of the swingin' secret agent type of feller -- a guise that men around the world dreamt of living up to, and filmmakers were keen to cash in on. Once Sean Connery stepped into the shoes of James Bond 007, it opened the floodgates for other actors to try to invoke his
An uproarious parody of classic horror/sci-fi films that's been given a sizeable dose of supercrack.
There aren't very many movies out there that have been publicly endorsed by both Joe Bob Briggs and Bill Murray. As a matter of fact, I can only think of two: Frank Henenlotter's Frankenhooker and, er -- nope, there's just that one, actually. When it first premiered way back in 1990 (Christ, has it been that long now?), this bizarre, comedic variation on the timeless tale of Frankenstein with oodles of breasts and crack thrown in for good measure gained a great deal of gratitude from the likes of a certain gonzo drive-in movie critic, as well as the famous
Twilight Time brings us a beautiful transfer for a rather underrated remake of the John Ford classic.
There's just something about redheaded women that make men want to fight over 'em. Within the first few minutes of the 1966 version of Stagecoach, we witness two Calvary soldiers fight each other to the death over a young ginger named Dallas (Ann-Margret). Just then, Calvary Captain Mallory (John Gabriel, who was the Professor in the original Gilligan's Island pilot) jaunts in and recommends the dancing girl of ill repute leave town on the next available stagecoach. The angry Calvary leader advises the same of several prominent witnesses to the double murder, as well -- including a white-suited gambler (and
Where the hell is Franco Nero when you need him?
When someone hears the phrase "Spaghetti Western," there's a damn good chance a vision of Clint Eastwood wearing a poncho will pop into their head. And it's for good reason, too: those epic Sergio Leone classics starring Clint Eastwood are -- in all probability -- the most well-known Euro western titles to audiences worldwide. Indeed, the first Leone/Eastwood collaboration, A Fistful of Dollars is generally considered to be the first spaghetti western