Archive for the ‘Little People’ Category

The other day I was describing PHENOMENA to a buddy who’s similarly enamored of horror flicks, and when I kept emphasizing how wonderful a movie it is, he thought I was fucking with him, since I apparently had a devious smile on my face the entire time. It made me smile just to think about it, but smile weirdly, because the movie is insane. Let me say it here in black-and-white without quotation marks: I sincerely, absolutely believe that PHENOMENA is a brilliant horror film. You can find vastly differing opinions elsewhere, but this essay is about mine.

PHENOMENA, originally released in the United States as CREEPERS (the reason for which will soon be apparent), is the work of Italian horror auteur Dario Argento. I’ve had only limited exposure to Argento’s filmography. I’ve seen ONCE UPON A TIME IN THE WEST at least a dozen times, of course, but Argento was one of several writers on that film, not the director. And I’ve seen DAWN OF THE DEAD a couple dozen times, but Argento’s main contributions to that film as far as I know were in the way of musical compositions and support to his friend George Romero.

The only Argento film upon which I can hold forth in any meaningful way (besides this one) is 1977′s SUSPIRIA, but SUSPIRIA is far from the only notable film in his arsenal.  Argento’s primary milieu is within the genre of film known as giallo.  PLEASE NOTE: I do not and would not claim to be any kind of authority on giallo cinema.  I will explain it as best as I know how, but for a more comprehensive look, please visit my friends at Paracinema. They even have a piece on PHENOMENA, which I will finally read as soon as I’m done writing mine!  I’m sure theirs is smarter, as you’ll see soon enough.  But let’s try to sound academic as long as possible before bringing up the monkey.

So, Giallo:  It literally means “yellow” and it’s an evocative reference to the yellowed pages of pulp novels.  Giallo is a kind of pulp tale, but rather than more traditional pulp topics such as noir or sci-fi, giallo quickly diverged into its own thing.  Generally speaking, giallo films tend to be lurid, bloody psychological thrillers.  Think Alfred Hitchcock’s PSYCHO, only with a significant level-up on the gore.  Giallos may or may not have supernatural elements, but the color red (ironic, due to the name) is a near-constant.  Stabbings abound.  Quite honestly, I stayed away from the giallo genre for a long time because, despite its encouraging tendency to feature female protagonists, giallo as a result and by nature also features a preponderance of graphic and vicious violence towards women.  I’m a guy who prefers monster movies to knife-murders, and — unfairly or not — I’d always figured giallos to be the artier precursor to slashers, like the FRIDAY THE 13TH series.  That assumption is not entirely incorrect, but of course it’d be foolish to write off an entire genre, particularly one so influential. 

Directors like Mario Bava, Massimo Dallamano, Umberto Lenzi, Sergio Martino, and Lucio Fulci were the most prominent practitioners of giallo films, though genre journeymen more famous for other types of movies, such as Enzo Castellari, Antonio Margheriti, and Fernando Di Leo, also worked in the arena.  That’s how significant a movement it was.  Of all giallo directors, Dario Argento is the one whose name is arguably most synonymous with the genre.  His films THE BIRD WITH THE CRYSTAL PLUMAGE (1970), DEEP RED (1975), TENEBRAE (1982), and OPERA (1987), among others, are giallo hallmarks.  The aforementioned SUSPIRIA (1977) is a giallo film with somewhat more of a supernatural angle than usual.  1985′s PHENOMENA is even more of a departure. 

PHENOMENA is a deep, dark fairy tale.  It’s a completely unrestrained work.  It defies convention, throws peerlessly bizarre protagonists into the mix, and veers tonally all over the map.  Clearly, if Argento and his c0-writer Franco Ferrini had an idea, they put it in.  No doubt this is what puts off some of the film’s detractors, but for me, the audaciousness is thrilling and inspiring.  Let’s do a recap and you’ll see what I mean:

The film opens on a cloudy late afternoon in the rolling, lushly green hills of Switzerland.  Right off the bat, what Argento manages to do with wind is eerie and evocative, and the primal unsettling quality of wind through trees is a recurring part of the film.  The instrumental score by frequent Argento collaborators Goblin (the Italian prog-rock band who also did the score for Romero’s DAWN OF THE DEAD) and Simon Boswell is weird and unforgettable and also a kind of secondary character who wanders throughout the film.  So by the time any human characters enter the frame, the tone for PHENOMENA is set.  A busload of young tourists is herded onto a bus by their chaperone, and as the bus is driving off, one schoolgirl is left behind.  She chases the bus, but as it disappears, she realizes how very alone she is.  The girl is played by a young actress named Fiore Argento, and if the surname sounds familiar, that’s no accident.  Argento had no reservations about featuring his nearest and dearest in his films, often in ways that might give meeker hearts pause.  More on that in a moment.

In an epically eerie sequence, the girl wanders through the hillside until she finds a small isolated cottage.  With literally nowhere else to go, she ventures inside, calling out for help.  There’s something chained inside the house.  It breaks free, slashes at the girl, and chases her outside.  We don’t see what the girl sees, although we do see some angles from the vantage point of her pursuer.  The girl runs to a cave near a waterfall, and is run through with a pike.  The attack continues until it’s clear the girl is dead, at which point something falls into the waterfall and is washed away by the rapids far below.  In case it wasn’t immediately clear, the object is the girl’s head.

The next time we see that head, it’s dessicated almost down to the bone, with maggots and worms and all manners of creepy-crawlies doing what they do upon it.  The skull is encased in glass, in the laboratory of a wheelchair-bound forensic entemologist named John McGregor.  McGregor is describing his work to the two police investigators who have come to see him:  He’s a scientist who uses insects to determine the method and manner of a victim’s demise – basically, if the TV show CSI were like this movie, I’d watch the TV show CSI.  Here’s why:  McGregor is played by Donald Pleasence, the veteran British character actor who is probably best known to horror fans from his role in John Carpenter’s HALLOWEEN.  He serves a similar function here.  I should also mention that McGregor has an assistant named Inga who happens to be a chimpanzee.  By assistant, I mean that Inga helps McGregor with his experiments and helps him talk out theories and also pushes his wheelchair for him.  If you’re still reading, I appreciate it and I will understand fully if you want to stop now and run off to watch the movie for yourself.  It’s worth doing.

Into the movie comes young Jennifer, the teenaged protagonist of the film.  She’s played by a then-14-year-old Jennifer Connelly in her first starring role, having previously made her debut appearance in Sergio Leone’s ONCE UPON A TIME IN AMERICA.  Jennifer Connelly is shockingly beautiful in this movie — I say this not at all in any creepy way, that’s not the effect her appearance provokes – she’s like a fairy-tale princess, the kind you want to see no harm befall.  Your eyes go right to her in every scene, but not in any kind of lustful way — she’s simply a striking figure, almost a special effect, and exactly the kind of visual anchor that an unhinged narrative like this one requires. 

Jennifer — Argento allegedly have Connelly’s character the same name in order to help her get invested in the story – is headed to a Swiss boarding school, having been shipped off by a famous actor father who doesn’t seem to care much about her.  Her chaperone is Frau Brückner, a local employee of her father, played by Daria Nicolodi, another frequent collaborator of Argento and the mother of his famous daughter, Asia.  (Both of whom are actors Argento has used repeatedly in his films, to go back to an earlier point.)  Jennifer is dropped off at school and nearly immediately ostracized by the other girls.  There are two things you need to know about Jennifer:  She sleepwalks at night, and she can commune with insects.  She has psychic abilities that give her disturbing images of the future and torment her sleep. 

So one night, while walking in her sleep, Jennifer is awakened by a schoolmate being murdered out in the surrounding woods.  It seems that the killer from the opening scene isn’t done preying upon young victims.  Jennifer gets lost in the woods, but is rescued by Inga, who introduces Jennifer to McGregor.  With their shared affinity for insects, Jennifer and McGregor become fast friends and soon enough they team up to investigate the murders on their own.  Since McGregor is house-bound, he sends out Jennifer with a fly in a box to aid in the investigation.  Jennifer and the fly find the cottage from the opening scene, which leads to more disturbing revelations. 

In other words, what I am telling you is that, in addition to a chimpanzee lab assistant, this movie also has a fly detective.   And songs by famed metal bands Iron Maiden and Motorhead.  And a little person with Patau syndrome.  And I’m not even done recapping yet, but I’m going to stop there, because believe it or not, PHENOMENA has even more twists and turns and seemingly random factors that all collide and result in a uniquely fizzy combustion of weird inspiration.  I don’t want to reveal any more than I already have.

PHENOMENA is an everything movie.  Most people are understandably content with just one or two flavors, and such a mad mixture of elements is too much for them.  Most movies would begin and end with the string of murders at a Swiss boarding school, or with the sleepwalking girl with psychic powers.  The apocalyptic swarms of flies and the chimpanzee protagonist may be five or six too many layers of awesome for the conventional filmgoing mind to handle.  But PHENOMENA is the only movie I know of in which a chimpanzee protagonist and an apocalyptic swarm of flies team up with Jennifer Connelly and Donald Pleasence in order to defeat a deranged murderer — if you know of any others PLEASE let me know – and that is the reason it gets a blue ribbon from me.

Throw everything at me on Twitter:  @jonnyabomb

This happened on October 15th, 2009.  There’s still no joy in it for me.

Trick ‘R Treat is a movie that has developed a large internet and word-of-mouth following among a certain kind of film fan, the kind that loves to find a little-known movie worthy of attention in order to champion its merits to the world.  Trick ‘R Treat was originally slated for a 2007 release and was never released widely; it finally made it to DVD last week.  Having heard scattered but rapturous praise in advance, and always on the lookout for an original horror film that could use a defender, I made watching it a priority.

The verdict:  Disappointing.

It’s not good.  It’s not.  In fact, a half an hour into the movie I realized that it was actually bad, and it wasn’t going to stop being that way.  And sure enough, it didn’t.  It’s twice as disappointing because I know that there are plenty of smart people that love this movie, and good for them, but they’re not right on this one.  There’s some nice cinematography in Trick ‘R Treat, and some occasionally inspired imagery, but a new and original Halloween classic?  No.  Really, it isn’t.  Not hardly.

Trick ‘R Treat is an anthology horror movie, meant in the spirit of Creepshow (George A. Romero & Stephen King) or Twilight Zone: The Movie (John Landis & Joe Dante & Steven Spielberg & George Miller), and the five individual stories are meant to overlap seamlessly in the spirit of Pulp Fiction.  (Stepping into big shoes can make it real easy to trip up…)  The five stories – or four with an introductory sequence – all take place on the same Halloween night, and all are haunted by a scarecrow-mask-wearing trick-or-treater in orange pajamas, kind of a silent Crypt-Keeper figure.   That character is by far the most memorable thing about the movie, and he features into the final and most straightforward story, the only one that is ultimately worth watching in the least.

Here’s the lead-off problem:  Trick ‘R Treat is operating on the premise that Halloween has a series of traditions, and that bad things can happen if you violate those traditions.  The movie mistakenly assumes that every viewer is acquainted with the traditions featured in each story.  It certainly does not lay out the traditions clearly at the outset, and even after watching all of the stories, I wasn’t clear what principle they were referring to.

Let’s look at each segment in these general terms:

The prologue features a young couple returning from a Halloween parade.  The young woman (Talladega Nights’ Leslie Bibb) snuffs out all the jack-o’-lantern candles in the yard, against her boyfriend’s warning.  In an extended “homage” to the opening sequence of John Carpenter’s Halloween, she is stalked and killed.  The tradition broken here:  Don’t take down the Halloween decorations until the night is over?  Okay, this one I get, although it hardly seems like the punishment fits the crime.  (After all, how else can she make room for the Christmas lights?)

The first full story features a school principal (Spider-Man’s Dylan Baker), a single parent with a young son, who confronts a sloppy brute of a child (Bad Santa’s Brett Kelly) who has been smashing pumpkins and stealing candy.  The principal calmly poisons the kid, then spends the rest of the episode trying to nervously hide the body from the neighbors and his son.  The tradition broken here is:  Always check your candy.  That one I get, because it’s the only time in the movie that a tradition is clearly stated.  The crippling problem with this story is character-based:  Why does this guy kill a kid on his front steps, totally out in the open, and then all of the sudden get shy about it?

In the second story, a group of adolescents plays a scary prank on an autistic girl, but in doing so, they invoke an old supernatural menace.  Tradition broken:  Don’t play pranks lest they happen for real? I’m not sure.  This was a pretty convoluted segment, with plenty of character and plot inconsistencies.  My more empathetic tendencies also lead me to take issue with the concept of the mentally-challenged undead.  If you are the type of person who is excited by the prospect of retarded zombies, go ahead with it I guess.

In the next story, a virginal college student (True Blood’s Anna Paquin) is stalked by a cloaked, fanged man, but she and her mega-hot friends turn the tables on him.  Tradition broken:  Don’t take anyone’s Halloween costume too literally?  I really can’t say.  This segment is an utter mess, and it pains me to say it because it culminates in the appearance of my favorite movie monster.  But the story makes no sense, it is confusingly intercut with the previous stories, it features the abrupt and not-well-explained reintroduction of a character from an earlier story, and it features the worst acting of the entire film.  You can distract me with amazing cleavage, but only temporarily.

In the last story, a wheezing old bastard (awesomeness’s Brian Cox) is besieged by that scarecrow kid who’s been appearing throughout the movie.  Tradition broken: Be kind to trick-or-treaters lest they be unkind to you. I guess.  This isn’t fully clear, but it almost doesn’t matter this time around.  I called this one the best segment earlier because it has the most interesting filmmaking – it has the movie’s best actor playing against a legitimately decent monster design, and it’s just an extended chase sequence that doesn’t waste time on poor dialogue or cute twists.  The pumpkinbaby’s motivations are still mighty unclear, but at least I wrung some entertainment out of the movie’s final moments.

The one thing that fans of Trick ‘R Treat and I can agree on is the mystery behind its delayed and unceremonious release.  Not that I believe that this movie is good enough for anyone but the most optimistic and desperate horror fans, because it’s not; but because I literally see a worse movie than this dumped into theaters every single week.  Trick ‘R Treat doesn’t hang together right, but it’s less ugly and sadistic than the Saw movies, more energetic than (for example) Surrogates, and more ambitious than just about any Sandra Bullock movie.  Trick ‘R Treat fails, but at least it tried.  It’s sad that I consider that praise, but I’d rather give a chance to a movie that wants to be original than a movie that is cynical and lazy.

But yeah, probably skip this one anyway.

Am I wrong?  All I know for sure is that I’m on Twitter:  @jonnyabomb

 

 

When it was originally released back in 1988, BEETLEJUICE was huge. I remember seeing it then and I have since seen this movie a lot of times. I’m not sure how well it’s remembered today, though. It’s one of Tim Burton’s earliest and purest visions. His first (feature) film was PEE-WEE’S BIG ADVENTURE, which is highly Burton-esque in retrospect — the Large Marge scene in particular — but it wasn’t Tim Burton’s sensibility alone that shaped that movie. However, it was the success of that movie that allowed cinema its first blast of pure Burton, which was BEETLEJUICE; the success of which, in turn, led to BATMAN, which made Burton one of the biggest directors of the last two decades. In his amazing career, Tim Burton has alternated between movie-star blockbusters and smaller, more personal movies. BEETLEJUICE was kind of both.

 

BEETLEJUICE started out originally as a script by Michael McDowell, which was reportedly was rewritten when Tim Burton signed on. If you’ve ever seen his drawings, you know that Burton’s artistic sensibility is all over the finished movie. The spooky character design, the skewed angles, the shadowy production design, the charming hokiness, the surprising darkness (in contrast), the off-center musicality, the career-best performances by many of its actors, the affinity for outcasts and wackadoos, the demented-carnival pomp of Danny Elfman’s score – these are all hallmarks of Burton’s style. The story is actually incredibly weird – a recently deceased young couple (Geena Davis and Alec Baldwin) return from a watery grave in order to rid their home of its new occupants, a strange family consisting of Catherine O’Hara, Jeffrey Jones, and Winona Ryder. Since they’re not great at being ghosts, they conjure up the lecherous, dangerous Beetlejuice (Michael Keaton), an exorcist who specializes in exorcising the living, in order to scare away the intruders.

 

 

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If this was supposed to be a kid’s movie, it’s definitely one of the creepiest and most bizarre kid’s movies ever made. The uniformly great cast is by turns mournful and affecting, callous and obnoxious, and in the case of Michael Keaton, unforgettably and wonderfully repulsive. In his portrayal of Beetlejuice, Keaton created a screen icon for freaks and weirdos. He’s unequivocably a villain and a pervert, and obviously is having a blast being sickening.

 

 

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BEETLEJUICE is a pivotal movie in Tim Burton’s career. It perfected the tone and spirit for which all of his best movies that followed are known, and in a design sense, it was an obvious trial run for his auteur projects such as THE NIGHTMARE BEFORE CHRISTMAS, THE CORPSE BRIDE, and even ED WOOD. Seeing it on a big screen with a midnight audience is a great idea. For Tim Burton fans, it’s an absolute necessity; for everyone else, it’s a friendly but emphatic suggestion.

 

BEETLEJUICE is the midnight movie this weekend at the IFC Center.

 

Invoke my name on Twitter: @jonnyabomb

 

Fun Fact: This character was played by the great Tony Cox!

 

 

 

There are benefits to being an insomniac. One is that you don’t have to work hard to stay up into the dead of night to watch the kind of movies that only air in the dead of night. Turner Classic Movies has a series this month called Silent Sundays, and the other night they aired a movie I’ve been meaning to see for a while:

Laugh, Clown, Laugh.

Laugh, Clown, Laugh (1928), based on a play and directed by Herbert Brenon, is a vehicle for the great Lon Chaney: Here he plays a travelling circus clown named Tito, who finds a baby girl he names Simonetta, takes her in and raises her to be a fellow performer. As she grows up, into a beautiful adolescent, he realizes to his confusion that he’s fallen in love with her. And then he has competition in the form of a dashing gentleman named Luigi.

The story has obvious echoes of the opera Pagliacci, but a more fun way to look at it for modern movie fans is that it’s Léon (The Professional) but with Italian clowns instead of Gallic assassins. The ingenue is played by Loretta Young, who went on to a long career in Hollywood, who from her appearance here seems to have been the Natalie Portman of her day.

But this is Lon Chaney’s show, and as usual, even to modern eyes his performance is compelling and affecting. For me, as with many people of my generation, it can take some work to get into a silent movie, but it’s not that way with Chaney’s filmography. For one thing, he almost always played grotesques, eccentrics, and freaks — that stuff works in any era.

For another, and maybe it’s the nature of the roles, but Chaney feels more expressive and more demonstrative than pretty much any other well-known performer of the era, to me at least. His acting is always perfectly modulated, neither too much nor too little, and thereby ensures that you hardly need the title cards to follow the story.

Laugh, Clown, Laugh is a great showcase for Lon Chaney, and the nature of the circus setting makes it a baroque experience, and well worth watching, but to me, it didn’t feel quite as transcendently weird as the movies I’ve seen that Chaney made with director Tod Browning. One of those is The Unknown.

It was probably Hugo that did it, but I went on a silent movie kick for a while there. So this is a movie I only got around to at the end of last year. It holds up and then some. The Unknown (1927) is one of the strongest collaborations between director Tod Browning and star Lon Chaney. In it, Lon Chaney plays an armless knife thrower named Alonzo The Armless.

For real now: Doesn’t that make you want to skip the rest of this article right now and go watch this movie?

All of the Tod Browning/ Lon Chaney collaborations I’ve seen are exactly this level of crazy. These two artists were, for a while there, as perfect a match as Leone and Eastwood. Besides his command of eerie and ominous atmosphere behind the camera, Browning had been a circus performer himself, a clown and a daredevil, so he knew these worlds. Chaney was a master of pathos and the macabre, fully able to meet any of the bizarre physical demands Browning needed from him.

Needless to say I’m a Tod Browning fan. Nobody else made movies like his. The closest you could come, for that mix of playful and menacing, is arguably early Tim Burton, or recent Alex De La Iglesia. I spent time studying Browning’s movies, most notably Freaks, for one of the comics I wrote. (Still available in stores and online!)

But Freaks came a few years after The Unknown – it’s better-known because it has sound and because the titular “freaks” were actually deformed, whereas Chaney was only playing at it (albeit doing so while in excruciating pain, if you read up on the history.) The Unknown also comes before Laugh, Clown, Laugh in the Lon Chaney chronology. This is a much more depraved character, in a much more depraved movie.

Chaney plays Alonzo The Armless, a sideshow freak whose act is flinging knives at his partner Nanon (Joan Crawford) using only his feet. He can do other things with his feet, such as play guitar…

…But the main thing to look out for is that knife-throwing. Alonzo’s not that nice a guy, and he’s also a fake. Turns out he has both his arms — he’s only hiding out in the circus because he’s a career criminal, who is easily identifiable because he has two thumbs on one hand.

TWO

THUMBS

ON

ONE

HAND.

This movie is wild. Okay, so Alonzo is a genetic aberration, but not the kind he purports to be. It’s the perfect cover story! Because not only does he need to hide his identity from the authorities, but he’s trying to not let on to Nanon, the woman he loves, that he is THE SAME TWO-THUMBED MAN WHO KILLED HER FATHER!

Alonzo’s only confidante is a little person named Cojo. It really just keeps getting better, doesn’t it? Alonzo fumes to Cojo as his beloved Nanon gets closer to the circus strongman — but not too close, as since her father was killed, she has developed a phobia of being held. This in turn leaves the door wide open for the romantic advances of Alonzo, as long as he doesn’t reveal to her that he actually does have arms. (It’s a little bit like Tootsie!) Alonzo gets so wrapped up in his babe that he makes the spectacularly bad decision to go get his arms amputated. Fellas, don’t make this mistake with your lady, and I’ll tell you why: While he’s recovering, Nanon gets over her arm phobia. Not only that, but she announces that she’s marrying the circus strongman. Well, Alonzo doesn’t take this news well at all, and that’s where everything gets really Tod Browning all over everybody.

What’s so compelling and so unusual about The Unknown, and about so many of Tod Browning’s films, is that it begins on a malevolent note and that only intensifies, until the typically violent climax, where the movie’s villain gets a karmic comeuppance so horrible that it’s barely even gratifying to watch. And of course what’s so uncommon, never more than today, is how the movie’s villain was the main character and the biggest star. It just shows how very much Lon Chaney brought to the movie, and to movies in general. How many stars are brave enough to allow themselves to be shown in so ugly a light? Alonzo is an evil, angry, murderous character, only occasionally sympathetic, but clearly that doesn’t keep him from being interesting. Tod Browning’s movies were provocative, profound, and truly valuable because his bad people were truly nasty brutes, and the so-called “freaks” were the most human out of anyone. Then again, being human doesn’t always mean being good either. The world is a complicated place.

For more on Tod Browning, here again are my pieces on The Unholy Three, and of course, on Dracula.

And here’s the renowned Dave Kehr on several other Lon Chaney films.

And here’s me on Twitter, sadly far less than silent: @jonnyabomb

 

Wanted to clue everyone in to a guest post I did for the terrific movie blog Rupert Pupkin Speaks, which has been inviting all kinds of well-travelled movie writers to contribute their lists of favorite quote-unquote “bad” movies.  (It’s all subjective, right?) 

I think you’ll enjoy this one.  I had a lot of fun putting it together.  I’m very proud to be featured on another site I enjoy, amongst some fun people.  You’ll have to click through to get to the meat of what I wrote, but I wanted to share some posters, still frames, and YouTube clips also, so scroll down for those.

>>>Read my list HERE!!!<<<

If you know me or have stopped by my site before, you know that this is hardly the end of my voyage into tremendous cinematic badness.  It’s only the beginning.

The journey continues! 

Find me on Twitter:  @jonnyabomb.

 

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Leprechaun 4: In Space (1997).

Things didn’t work out for anybody in Vegas, so the franchise left the planet.  I have to say, I like the specificity of that title:  It’s not “[Title;] Leprechaun 4: [Subtitle;] Leprechaun In Space”; it’s Leprechaun 4: In Space.  The film itself is in space!  Let’s go with the obvious joke, then:  They should’ve left it there.

Mixing an evil medieval Leprechaun into the science fiction genre with absolutely no explanation whatsoever is about as tasty as mixing peanut butter and tuna fish.  Oh yeah, and there’s no production value either, but there wasn’t much chance of that.

When it comes to Leprechaun 4 In Space, it’s the little moments you treasure.

Like when a Space Marine blows up the Leprechaun with a bazooka, and urinates on the remains.  A green electric jolt travels up the stream of urine right into the guy’s shaft.  Later on, when the guy is getting it on with a fake-bazoomed bimbo, the Leprechaun reconstitutes himself from within the palooka’s bladder and climbs his way back into the world through the poor guy’s cocker.  Naturally the Leprechaun caps this milestone sequence with a choice one-liner:  “That’s why you should use protection!”

The Leprechaun makes these awful jokes so that I don’t have to.  That is why he is a hero.

Towards the end of the movie, the few Space Marines still alive accidentally fire a space ray at the Leprechaun so that he grows in size.  What, you ask, is the first act of an evil Leprechaun grown to the height of Mighty Joe Young?  Why, to open up his fly and look down at his crotch to see what’s doing, of course.  “Big is good!” he declares.

Sadly, his reverie is not to last.  Because all movies have to end, even the ones that suck frog-ass, the Leprechaun is hurled through an open cargo door into the vacuum of space, where he explodes.  Like Georgie Bush Jr. and those other classic wits who always get the cleverest last word, the Leprechaun reminds the heroes and the audience that he’ll be back, as a giant, warty hand drifts across the screen, its middle finger extended in defiance as if to say ”Fuck you for watching.”

Next up: Leprechaun In The Hood (2000).

@jonnyabomb

"What's luck got to do with it?"

Leprechaun 2: Bride Of Leprechaun (1994).

There are six Leprechaun movies in existence.  As is so often the case, the first one is the best.

This is probably the other one to watch, if you have to watch any.

[Again, the disclaimer:  I am working almost entirely off memory here.  I’ve seen all of these movies but I don’t necessarily recommend that to anyone else.  Watch any of them at your own risk.]

Leprechaun 2 is the only one I saw in the theaters, possibly the only one ever to appear in theaters.  It was directed by the same guy who directed Idle Hands, whatever that indicates for you.  The point is, he worked again after Leprechaun 2, so at the very least the guy knows where to point a camera – a virtue that cannot be accorded to every single director who ever helmed a Leprechaun film.  After a decade in television, he directed the documentary Conan O’Brien Can’t Stop, which given Conan O’Brien’s current culture-hero esteen, is not exactly a straight line from shlock-horror mayhem.  I’m sure there’s an Irish joke to be made here, but not by me.

So anyway, in Leprechaun 2 as in the first Leprechaun, there are brief (VERY brief) moments of actual creepiness and atmosphere, although there is also much more weird sexuality and more gore, which kicks it into a different setting of disturbing.  There’s also plenty of silliness, but this installment is notable as the last time the series even pretended to try to scare anybody.

Accordingly, the Leprechaun’s predatory pool this time around is dramatically less impressive than the first movie’s supporting cast.  Let’s just say that the young male and female leads didn’t have any hope of going on to star on Friends.

The only member of the cast to crop up on Must-See TV was the character called Uncle Morty, played by comedian Sandy Baron, who was a semi-regular on Seinfeld (he was Jerry’s dad’s nemesis in the retirement community.) Here he plays an obnoxious asshole who corners the Leprechaun and demands he turn over his gold. The Leprechaun gives it to him, all right – in his belly! Uncle Morty dies screaming, “Get it out of me!”, which is a catchphrase you probably never heard on Seinfeld.

My favorite element of Leprechaun 2 is how it disregards/builds on the mythology established in the first movie, and introduces more magical weaknesses to the character.

You know how Freddy Kruger can’t get you if you don’t fall asleep?  You know how the Predator won’t hunt you if you’re not holding a gun?  Well, there are several ways to slow or stop the Leprechaun if he’s after you.

In the first movie, it was shoes and four-leaf clovers.  This time around, it’s wrought-iron and manners.  You can trap the Leprechaun in a safe made of a certain kind of metal, or you can stab him with a pole made of it.  And if the Leprechaun has designs on breeding with your lovely daughter, as he does with the titular bride, he can only get her if she sneezes three times.  You can protect her by saying “God Bless You.”  Like I said: manners!  This Leprechaun is an unusually vulnerable guy for a thousand-year-old demon who can take a pistol-shot to the chest.

That’s about all there is to say about Leprechaun 2, except for this:  BOOBIES.  If you need more information, I’m sure there are many websites to oblige, this being the internet and all.  But for the intellectual-minded, it is worth noting that the Leprechaun films almost immediately got sleazier, and for the creeps, the same knowledge is useful for different ends.

Oh, and also:  Keep an eye out for the cameo appearance by the great Tony Cox (Bad Santa, Friday) as a more human leprechaun, dressed for the holiday, who runs into the protagonist in the men’s room and offers him what the evil Leprechaun never would.

“Hey man, want me gold? Pure milk chocolate!”

Next up: Leprechaun 3: Leprechaun In Las Vegas (1995).

@jonnyabomb

And suddenly, almost without warning, it became time to talk about the Leprechaun movies again.   I’m not even talking about Saint Patrick’s Day, although the apparent flurry of interest concerning the Leprechaun movies has clearly been timed to coincide with that forever-linked holiday.  First, the profile of former Leprechaun star Warwick Davis got a massive boost when HBO picked up his mockumentary series made with Ricky Gervais and Stephen Merchant.

The show started airing last month here in the States.  I’ve only seen the first episode, and that was more than enough for me, but I love Warwick Davis and I was pretty happy to see the above billboard at eight-hundred-times life size in the middle of Times Square.

And then today happened.  My friend Zach Oat and my friends at Daily Grindhouse tipped me to the fact that WWE Films, makers of the John Cena action epics The Marine and 12 Rounds, are planning to attach jumper cables to the Leprechaun movie franchise for a release in 2013.  Sure thing.  It’s a natural fit.

I was being sarcastic at the end of that last paragraph but suddenly I’m imagining the possibilities.  If they can get Warwick Davis to come back for the new Leprechaun movie, maybe they can have John Cena face off against him.  It could be a blending of both Leprechaun and 12 Rounds, with the evil Leprechaun tormenting John Cena instead of a mad bomber.

 

I have absolutely zero Photoshop skills, but you get the point.

Or if they can’t persuade Warwick Davis to return, maybe John Cena himself can take over the lead role.  I see no reason why a monstrous pro wrestler couldn’t portray an evil Leprechaun.

Boggles the mind, does it not?

All of this is good enough reason for me to decide to repost what I logged last year in bulk on the Leprechaun franchise, my rough guide to a series of films which reached a staggering six entries before petering out almost ten years ago.  It was one of my most popular posts, and now I guess I’ll split it up into seven more easily digestible mini-posts.  All of the following has appeared previously elsewhere and has been both abridged and expanded just in time for this most eventful St. Patrick’s Day weekend.

As previously noted, I’m something of an expert on the six Leprechaun movies, which is to say, I’ve seen them all.  It’s not a boast.  If I could unsee a couple of them, I would.  Generally speaking, they stink.  The Leprechaun movies are like farts:  Some of them stink so bad you can’t help but laugh, but most of them just clear the room.

First up (next post):  Leprechaun (1993).

If you enjoy the series, want to talk movies, or if you catch sight of a leprechaun and feel you need help banishing him, contact me here:

@jonnyabomb

Today I’m spotlighting a movie all the way from 1925.  Don’t let that scare you off.  Give me two paragraphs and trust me, you’ll want to stay.

The Unholy Three was a massive hit in its time, and critically well-received, which makes it one of the most successful movies to be barely remembered by history. Director Tod Browning later made the monumentally influential Dracula with Bela Lugosi in 1931, and the infamous and historically crucial Freaks a year later. Browning is a fascinating figure in his own right, beginning his career as a circus performer known as “The Hypnotic Living Corpse” and then moving into motion pictures. But that’s another story, and I’m too excited about The Unholy Three to talk about anything else.

I first read about The Unholy Three in an incredible book called The Monster Show by cultural historian and monster-movie expert David J. Skal.

Skal encapsulates the story like so: “a crime spree perpetrated by three circus performers – a ventriloquist (Lon Chaney), a midget (Harry Earles), and a strongman (Victor McLaglen). [Fed up with the circus life, the trio set up a false front for their criminal activities in a parrot shop.] The ventriloquist disguises himself as an old lady, and the midget assumes the guise of a baby.” IMDB will list their respective names as Professor Echo, Tweedledee a.k.a. Little Willie, and Hercules. Also, there is a giant chimpanzee prominently featured in the film.

If there’s someone out there who can get through the preceding paragraph and not want to see this movie right this minute, I sure don’t want to know ‘em.

The Unholy Three is a silent film, and was later remade by Browning and Chaney after the arrival of sound. It’s not an easy movie to track down, in either version.  When I finally did, I went with the original.  Due to that amazing summary, my expectations were sky-high – and they were still surpassed.

As you might expect of an 86-year-old silent movie, The Unholy Three is somewhat dated (though not as much as you’d think) and some of the storytelling techniques and plot devices are somewhat rudimentary, seeing as how the film medium was then in its infancy. But it’s astonishing how vivid and entertaining the movie still remains today. The running time flew by, as the humor in the dialogue and staging (almost entirely intended) was incredibly hilarious, and there were even a couple resonant emotional moments.

Lon Chaney, the legendary ‘Man Of A Thousand Faces’, plays the entire movie with his real face, even while under a gray wig as “Grandma O’Grady”, and he is funny, sinister, and moving. Victor McLaglen, as the strongman, is sympathetic as a loyal man who is too susceptible to negative influences – McLaglen went on to a long career as a memorable supporting player in Gunga Din and in John Ford/ John Wayne westerns.

But by far, the most unforgettable character is Harry Earles, who was the romantic lead in Freaks and who represented the Lollipop Guild in The Wizard Of Oz. Earles plays all the baby moments for high comedy, and is equally convincing as the most vicious and Unholy of the three. Browning, a circus performer himself, was unusually sympathetic in his films towards the more “unusual” characters – that Tweedledee is the meanest of the criminals is a bold characterization, and worth remembering in a film culture that has devolved in the past eight decades towards lampooning little people and other disabled persons, despite all the politically correct lip service to the contrary.

Since it’s not a very long movie, I don’t want to overly detail what happens once these three team up and eventually start getting on each other’s nerves, but if I restate the fact that a giant chimpanzee is involved, will you believe me when I tell you that it is AWESOME?

Really, if you ever get a chance to see this movie, definitely jump at it. It had me erupting with laughter, surprise, and joy. In general, seeing silent films is an underrated pleasure – and an educational recommendation for modern filmmakers who use wordy dialogue as a crutch and don’t tell story through image. The Unholy Three is brisk and concise entertainment.  Check it out, and please – keep your eyes open for babies with cigar smoke on their breath.

And keep your eyes open for me on Twitter: @jonnyabomb

 

This review, for reasons quickly to become apparent, first appeared in 2009.  I’m posting it now because my long-awaited Sucker Punch review is going up next.

NOT THAT INTO YOU, WATCHMEN.

Naw, I dug the Watchmen movie a fair amount, actually.  I just saw the above mash-up title [He’s Just Not That Into You + Watchmen] on a marquee somewhere in Yonkers back around the time both movies were in theaters, and I had to finally share it.  Unfortunately, it seems to accurately describe the opinions of a significant percentage of moviegoers and most of the fans of the Watchmen comic too.  Today I want to talk about whether that’s fair, or whether people should give the movie another look.

The Watchmen Director’s Cut DVD is now among us, so this is a good time to start thinking about where this long-awaited, somewhat tepidly-received film adaptation of a universally-acknowledged comic book masterpiece fits in to the pantheon of comic book cinema.  When the movie version of Watchmen was finally released a few months ago (22 years after the original 12-issue comic series), people fell over themselves to make public their earliest thoughts.  I think the movie demands just a little more time to simmer.  Personally, I at least had to wait to see Tales of The Black Freighter.

So now, at this point in time, I’ve seen Black Freighter on DVD twice, and Under The Hood once, and I’ve now seen around 9 hours of the filmed Watchmen.  That means 3 trips to the movie theater (so far).  By my estimation, 3 times is once more than Jackie Earle Haley, twice more than Billy Crudup’s [probably shocked] family, and thrice more than original comic series writer Alan Moore.  Although I did enjoy it every time, I didn’t see it that often out of some insane love for the movie – it just works out that way sometimes.  (Promised three separate groups of people I’d see it with them, didn’t mind the repeat trips, etc.)

   

But I’ve definitely had ample opportunity to give fair consideration to Watchmen, a movie that was widely-reported to be by its makers, and remains very obviously upon every viewing, a labor of love.  It’s a thoughtful and intriguing interpretation of source material that was virtually impossible to approximate, and as such, of course it was unfairly and [usually] wrongly slammed from many quarters.

I think one of the big problems I observe with the world at large today, and certainly in the realm of pop culture, is that everybody needs to appear as if they know everything.  The truth is that everybody does not know everything.  Nobody knows everything, and almost everybody knows a whole lot less than they think they do.  I’m no different.  I have some inside knowledge on some things, but I’m no insider.  I have some expertise in many things, but I’m no expert.  I’m human.  I change my mind sometimes.  I’m wrong sometimes, and I try to admit it when I am.  No matter how hard I try, I’m not perfect.  But I’m trying, Ringo.  I’m trying REAL hard.

So you can take my opinion of Watchmen or you can leave it, but at least understand that I took plenty of time to think about it, and now, with all that said, here’s what I came up with:

Ultimately, I have come to agree that Watchmen was worth doing as a movie, but ultimately, I also believe that – and I don’t want to be the kind of prick who says this, but all the same – of course the book remains better than the movie.  The difference between Watchmen the book and Watchmen the movie is that the book is unquestionably a masterpiece, and while the movie does its level best and usually succeeds, a masterpiece it ain’t quite.

Let’s look at all of the individual elements and how they add up:

THE FILMMAKING:

  • The opening credit sequence is likely some kind of a landmark.  Its mixture of posed and moving elements, to the tune of “The Times They Are A’Changing” by Bob Dylan, set the stage perfectly.
  • Arguably the best chapter of the book turns out to be definitively the best sequence of the film – the segment where Dr. Manhattan ditches Earth for Mars.  It’s a marvel of storytelling and a thrill to see realized on film so perfectly [scored, edited, acted…].  It might be the single best reason to see the movie.
  • About The Black Freighter:  I had no problem at all with this parallel text from the comic being excised from the movie.  I might eventually take a look at the cut of the film that re-integrates the Black Freighter footage out of curiosity, but I’m glad it wasn’t in the movie.  Film and comics are often compatible, but they are very different media, and a running pirate sub-plot would have been insanely distracting within a filmed superhero movie.  But how cool that they took the time and money to animate it anyway for fans to see!  We’re lucky to be in the time of the DVD extras.
  • The change made to the ending was an interesting solve, one which makes a ton of sense for the story, only… the movie entirely drops it once it’s introduced, otherwise sticking entirely to the original text and showing no new repercussions. Rorshach, Dr. Manhattan, everybody – all of the major characters react almost exactly as they did in the original script.  I’m cool with the climactic change, I think it’s even a little bit great, but it should have had more of a ripple effect in the storyline than it did.
  • The cinematography by Larry Fong set the right mood – dark and shadowy and frequently greenish, it instantly evokes the memory of so many 1980s sci-fi action movies.
  • The score by Tyler Bates was a good fit – like so much else that was right about Watchmen, it was pitched somewhere between Blade Runner and The Dark Knight, which feels to me like the right sonic choice.
  • The songs featured on the soundtrack, however, were occasionally distracting.  Many of the choices seem to be geared towards some of the references from the chapter breaks in the book, but some are out of nowhere, distractingly out of time period, and [intentionally?] laughable.  “The Sound Of Silence” playing at the Comedian’s funeral feels more like a joke that falls flat.  Some of them work terrifically, though.  I’ll be totally honest – I’m partial to any movie of this scale that plays Leonard Cohen’s “First We Take Manhattan” throughout its end credits.  That song sounds like a perverted French aerobics video from 1983.  It sounds like Ozymandias, having just conquered the world, now out on the town, in search of your unwilling butthole.  Creepy and weird.  And great.

 

 

 

THE CASTING:

  • Malin Akerman as Silk Spectre II

All haters can go screw.  She was fine.  In fact, she was better than fine.  She was fine in the acting sense, and in the other sense of fine, she was super-hot.  Who could have played that role better?  Kate Winslet?  Don’t think so.  The role of Silk Spectre calls for sex appeal, a smile that can draw dudes as diverse as Dr. Manhattan and Nite Owl 2, a convincing physicality, some insecurity, and just a dash of naiveté.  What about that did Malin Akerman not provide?  She not only sold the part, but she brought the sex to it also.  I love how some comic book fans refuse to admit that part of the history and the adolescent draw of superhero comics is the weird sexual fantasy aspect of it all.  I wonder if the legions of droolers who went to see Transformers 2 cared about the convincing acting of Megan Fox.  I wonder if everybody in the world who loved The Dark Knight were into it more because of Maggie Gylenhaal’s acting.  I wonder if it would have hurt that movie to cast hotter.  Actually, I argue it could only have helped.  Weird sex has more to do with superheroes than anyone likes to talk about.  That’s why Batman Returns is half a good movie, by the way.  (The other half stars The Penguin.)  It’s also the entire reason why Alan Moore originally wrote those scenes into Watchmen.

  • Billy Crudup as Dr. Manhattan

I’m definitely on the Billy Crudup bandwagon.  I’ve seen the guy on stage and in a bunch of movies and it’s clear he’s a hugely talented and adventurous actor.  As Dr. Manhattan, he’s convincingly otherworldly and detached, while strangely vulnerable and searching.  He’s just right.  And there, that’s an entire paragraph passed without any easy blue-balls jokes.

  • Matt Frewer as Moloch

Unexpectedly nice to see this M.I.A. 1980s character actor on screen again, and he gives one of the more believable, affecting performances in the entire magilla, even saddled as he is with rodent-like makeup and big fake ears.

  • Matthew Goode as Ozymandias

Very talented actor; probably miscast.  Or at least, misdirected.  This character is maybe THE major misstep Watchmen the movie makes.  Matthew Goode can convincingly play a charismatic, intimidating, impossible-to-beat villain – see The Lookout for proof – but he doesn’t come off that way in Watchmen, which is a sizable issue.  Here, he comes off like the world’s richest Prince fan.  In the book, Rorshach makes a crack about Adrian’s possible homosexuality, a crack that the movie makes overt by having him have a folder on his hard drive labeled “Boys.”  Problematic; particularly coming from the director of 300.  I understand that they were going for the Alexander the Great parallel, but it’s totally unnecessary and a distracting divergence from the point of Ozymandias.  In the alternate-universe re-cast, they could try to go with Paul Walker or the long-rumoured Jude Law.  Again, no offense to Matthew Goode – I just don’t think the chemistry here was right.

  • Carla Gugino as Silk Spectre 1

The Carla Gugino bandwagon is another one I happily ride.  She elevates every under-written role she takes, and legitimizes every inferior movie she makes.  She’s a convincing actor with a subtle sense of humor and she’s also incredibly fun to look at.  Perfect casting here; solid performance.

  • Jackie Earle Haley as Rorshach

Speaking of perfect casting:  Holy hell, what a face.  Damn, do I ever wish that more interesting faces like this would get back into American movies.  Not only that, but the guy’s scarily perfect as the un-pretty, inexplicably-lovable sociopathic vigilante.  Everybody agrees that Jackie Earle Haley is amazing in Watchmen, and everybody is right.  I’d love to write more about it, but there’s really not much more to say.  The guy’s one-hundred percent. 

  • Jeffrey Dean Morgan as the Comedian

This fella is totally right for his role too.  For some reason, all discussions of Jeffrey Dean Morgan in this movie began with which other actors he supposedly resembles:  Robert Downey Jr. multiplied by George Clooney, or an Americanized Javier Bardem, blah blah blah.  That makes sense.  That skewed resemblance to better-known leading man types, the way he suggests other actors we all like, actually really works to make this character work, as does the actor’s own charisma and talent.  It’s a hard job he’s got here; to make a racist, rapist asshole compelling enough to hang a two-hour murder-mystery on, but he pulls it off, in my opinion.

  • Patrick Wilson as Nite Owl II

I was initially skeptical of Patrick Wilson in this role, because I was probably confusing him with his callow Greek-god character from Little Children, and also I always looked at the comic-book Nite Owl as a much shlubbier nebbish than Patrick Wilson could ever portray.  Despite the too-obvious athleticism, he turns out to be a solid choice for the part.  He undercuts his action figure blandness with an appropriately convincing self-doubt and a sly sense of humor – it’s like Kevin Costner all over again (in his good roles, that is).

  • Robert Wisden as Richard Nixon

Misfire.  Forgive my language, Mr. President, but that was some truly shitty Richard Nixon.  Would it have been tough to get Frank Langella to fill the role?  He’s all warmed up for it these days.  On first glimpse of the leader of the Watchmen world, my cousin turned to me and said “he looks like Dan Aykroyd from Nothing But Trouble” and I entirely agreed.  Actually, Dan Aykroyd coulda played a better Nixon.  If you get the Nothing But Trouble reference, you figure that’s not what they were going for.  In fact, most of the old-age makeup in general in Watchmen was less than great.  (Guess Fincher hired out all the best makeup artists for Benjamin Button.)  Bad Nixon is an unnecessary distraction, especially considering how close to the beginning the character first appears.

  • Danny Woodburn as Big Figure

I’m a big fan of Danny Woodburn, and not just from Seinfeld.  I think he’s a good actor and I appreciate his resemblance to Billy Joel.  Anybody who’s read my earlier pieces knows that I support the casting of little people in pivotal roles in huge-budget non-comedy pictures.  But I feel like in this case, Big Figure is an element that was lost in translation from comic to film.  In comics, little people are shorthand – Alan Moore could depict a gang boss who is also a little person because superhero comic book readers understand the reference to characters like the Penguin, etc., who could lead physically larger henchmen due to their intellect and superior cruelty.  By contrast, film audiences, through no fault of their own (I blame hack comedies), are conditioned to laugh whenever a little person appears.  And that’s exactly what happened in every audience I saw Watchmen with.  While there is plenty of jet-black humor in the prison-break sequence, none of it is intended to be at the expense of Danny Woodburn’s stature.  This is one place where the filmmakers could have (and probably should have) diverged from the text and cast Big Figure differently.  The sequence really would have worked as intended if, say, Michael Clarke Duncan or Ron Perlman or Tommy Lister or The Rock were standing outside that cell, ominously stalking Jackie Earle Haley’s Rorshach.  As it is, the jailbreak sequence, a highlight of the book, doesn’t hardly rock on film.

THE FINAL TALLY:  

Everything’s good except Big Figure, Gay Ozymandias, and Bad Nixon.  Everything else either surpasses expectations, or confirms them.  By my math, that’s a success.  The credit goes to Zack Snyder and his team for making the movie work as well as it does, and to the people at Warner Brothers who let him make the movie his way.  It really was as good a Watchmen adaptation as anyone could have asked for.  Personally, I never asked for it, didn’t feel it was necessary.  But if it had to happen – and apparently it did – then it’s best that it went down this way.  The flaws are significant enough that the movie still pales in comparison to the book, but then again, most things do.  That’s how Watchmen, the movie, should stand in the estimation of comic book fans.  I can’t say if it works for the laypeople, but it probably wasn’t made for them, honestly.  Zack Snyder was really talking directly to fans of the original comic here, and the fans should be thankful.  This one is.

P.S.  Alan Moore, lighten up a little.  This movie was a compliment to you.

P.P.S.  Dave Gibbons, you’re still TOO fresh.  What a great artist – if only for the spotlight it has returned to the virtuosity of Dave Gibbons’ art, the Watchmen movie was a worthy experiment.