directed by herb freed
american general pictures/entertainment services international
An oddity, this number is mostly a small-town slice-of-life crime thriller until its misleading, byzantine conclusion. Apparently issued on DVD without restoration, it looks terrible, and I was amused to find out its washed-out palette was allegedly purposeful. Aldo Ray as the sheriff is believable in his role, but anything else that’s noteworthy here merely relates to the presentation of a time and a way of life that are both long gone. Its weary, lived-in 1970s feeling kept it interesting for longer than was probably warranted. By the time the goings-on start getting sorted out, they get tangled up again, and you will have lost your patience by this point, particularly with the main character. She’s being stalked! Or maybe she isn’t. The local Casanova is a rapist, perhaps worse! Or IS he. “Better not book him just yet, we got the killer cornered down at the sawmill,” one character telephones. But what of the local parson, the uncle, the goat? The ending, like much of the rest, is a muddle.
why did i watch this movie?
Well, it should have been entertaining.
should you watch this movie?
If you are fascinated by forgotten stars of yesteryear, the requisite also-rans and the never-weres, you may appreciate it.
highlight and low point
This feature flaunts a flashback format that is supposed to give its audience some insight into what is happening – presumably, anyway – but said flashbacks are too fragmented to supply much information. Furthermore, what little can be gleaned from them is more or less shunted aside by what is shown more directly, so nothing is gained. An amusing scene in the local watering hole serves little purpose in the story structure and stands out for that reason alone.
Rather preposterously set in a “high school” (none of the major student roles is played by anyone under 18, or particularly close), this picture presents an extremely convoluted resolution to an otherwise straightforward, standard horror movie. Sure, as you watch, you know you’re being set up for the SHOCKING ending – hell, the filmmakers tease you with various false reveals along the way – but even so, once all the layers are peeled away, you feel a little incredulous. Skeptical, even. I mean, it all seems like WAY too much trouble for a touch of retribution. The red herrings from the production team combine with similar trickery from the characters themselves to create a film that overall is a bit too intricate. It’s also a bit too long. And in spite of all that, to pull off the ruse, they still had to cheat.
Hey, a new competitor for worst movie on this site! For some reason turning one of the best and most impactful horror movies ever made into an extended bout of broadly drawn “humor,” aggravating characterizations, little plot and no point, TCM2 is a chore to endure. Insulting in its carelessness, this flick only could have been more of a cartoon had The Mystery Machine appeared. (Much of the action takes place in an abandoned amusement park, for crying out loud. Where were the Harlem Globetrotters and Phyllis Diller?) Leatherface – sorry, “Bubba” – is reminiscent of Fred Gwynne as Herman Munster, which is not a compliment, much as Bill Moseley’s horrible character seems to have presaged alleged funnyman Jim Carrey’s equally irritating “Fire Marshall Bill.” (And in actuality was a template for Michael Keaton’s Betelgeuse.) Meanwhile, Dennis Hopper spends the first half of the film not even pretending he gives half a damn and the second half hamming it up wildly. Mr. Hooper allegedly wanted to compensate for the audience’s not recognizing the black humor in the original, but this extremely stupid and classless farce raises the question whether his first attempt was just a happy accident. Also commits the sequel’s sin of reductionism while simultaneously destroying continuity – a hapless combination. And the FX suck, too. Excruciating and disgraceful.
This British film is absurdly amateurish, and in fact may be one of the most unprofessional movies made by an actual studio that you’re apt to see. It’s all here – ripoff script, the lowest of budgets, random illogic and execrable dramatics. Joan Collins isn’t even the worst actor in this picture, which should really tell you something. One of the characters is a nun, and her fake Italian accent is truly a wonder to behold, especially voicing dialogue such as “Is it possible for a baby not to want to be born?” The performances are so laughable that Donald Pleasence – DONALD PLEASENCE – appears reasonably accomplished with his typically disaffected mien. The absolutely most striking feature here, though, is that the director repetitiously focuses on an ordinary baby lying in its crib (or “pram,” depending on scenario) to illustrate … EVIL. Or something. It is, uh, not effective. Whatever you call this mess, it’s another abominable creation that later became a “camp classic” – although typically part of such (dis)honor is that dreck becomes enjoyable when you’re in on the joke, and this film is not enjoyable for any reason. (By the way, the baby’s mother’s name is Lucy; no Sharon can be found.)
So close, so very close … Man, this Indonesian remake-of-sorts could have been the stuff of legend, a terrifying spectacle difficult to withstand, but it just can’t pull it off, leaving us with a rather standard malevolent-spirits Asian spookfest. That’s a shame, because al
Now, this is more like it! A tremendously realized mid-’70s fright flick that succeeds without any of the earmarks that would soon begin to plague the genre (slashing, masks, teenagers, etc.), this mainly psychological horror picture draws one in the old-fashioned way. Something’s obviously wrong, seemingly minor issues continuously get more worrisome, the situation keeps deteriorating … but nothing too specific can be identified. (You’ll probably get an inkling, of course.) Tiny hints here and there tiptoe toward the devastating conclusion, and it’s all handled impeccably. Well, truth be told, things get a little out of hand as that ending nears, including some of the performances, but that neither lessens the impact nor diminishes the achievement. The film does almost overstay its welcome; it’s a minor flaw, though exacerbated a bit as the climax nears, as it feels as though substantial cuts must have been made. Oliver Reed is his usual intense self throughout, so that’s a hoot, Karen Black handles a complicated role fairly well, and Bette Davis is excellent.
Looking for some movies to watch during the MLB All-Star break, I came across this title and, as I read the synopsis and noted the release date, was flabbergasted that I’d never before even heard of the picture. Then I watched it, and the reason soon became apparent: it’s not very good. And though I’ve seen mild claims that it may have attained cult status, I don’t think I believe that revisionism, as the goings-on here can’t sustain enough appeal of any sort to induce such an outcome. Not that it isn’t entirely without merit, mind you; a murderous trio of preteens is compelling, especially as the three seem to be of perverse inclinations besides just their predilection for killing. Too much goes undeveloped, however, especially the ostensible motif of an astrological underpinning to the youths’ malevolence. The acting on display is not highly polished, either. All in all, this one comes across a little too much like a genre exploitation cheapie.
As this oddly delayed sequel began – a decade after the first installment – I confess, I really, really wanted to bag on it; the onset is not promising and it appeared as though it would be a cliché-ridden parade of stock characters and situations. Credit where it’s due, however – this film delivers exactly what it’s supposed to deliver, and it does it well. Not overly saddled with any particular panache, and devoid of much in the way of creativity beyond the overall “Strangers” framework, it’s still adept at ratcheting up the tension and producing effectively understated frights. Wisely, the palette is opened up a bit from the original, as the characters are not confined to one specific place, and although some of what could be termed “character development” verges on slasher-film shtick, it remains essentially rooted in realism. It IS a bit meta, however, occasionally evoking the line productions of the post-Scream era, and perhaps a bit predictable when it morphs into a revenge picture for a while. All told, a few groans don’t detract much. No classic, but it will entertain you well enough.
This goofy little B-movie is a good example of what kinds of films this site’s proprietor often prefers. (Why is a different subject.) By rights, it SHOULD be hampered by various difficulties, not the least of which is its ridiculous story, and among which are occasionally lax production values, unconvincing acting and the overall feeling that it’s a made-for-TV affair. Nonetheless, it mostly succeeds, even if it doesn’t quite fulfill any variety of promises suggested when it shifts into the present tense. Coincidences and improbabilities propel the plot, highlighted by the irrepressible Brad Dourif emoting another weirdo and basically causing all the trouble. I didn’t even mention the stirring title anthem that you will probably immediately identify, as I did, as being written and performed by Linda Perry. So what, exactly, works here then, one may well be wondering. Call it pathos; within the outlandish framework resides the tale of a girl searching for family.
This picture boasts one innovative idea, which I anticipated watching unfold. Unfortunately, it didn’t bear quite enough fruit – either the producers didn’t have the nerve to take their conceit far enough or they modulated it a bit in the pursuit of mass consumption. The concept, of course, is a whole lotta silence, the reason being the premise that Earth has been invaded and decimated by aliens that hunt by sound. That’s a pretty great proposition, even with some of the questions it raises, but the filmmakers encounter issues with its execution. Now, I mean the following seriously, given that this is a movie dealing with deadly alien invaders that hunt by sound alone: far too many logical inconsistencies present themselves, disabling any suspension of disbelief. I mean, virtually from the opening scene, I was incredulous. That’s kind of a serious problem. A peculiarly reactionary sociology in the family structure has been noted elsewhere; it becomes perhaps even more curious when one considers that the director/co-writer and his wife are the lead actors.
SPACE RATS From Outer Space 