Category Archives: USA

Galaxina (1980, William Sachs)

Galaxina answers a number of burning questions. Most immediately, it shows practical special effects and miniatures is sometimes not the best way to do special effects. Because auteur William Sachs had a great cinematographer–Dean Cundey–yet the effects work in Galaxina is awful. But it’s not like Cundey shot any of it well. Galaxina apparently had just enough budget to rent a Western set and otherwise shot in a basement. It takes place in the far future… but all the rooms look like they’ve got sheets on the walls.

There’s no real story to Galaxina, not for the first half anyway. It’s about a bunch of morons on a spaceship, including a hunky one–Stephen Macht starts the movie with his shirt off, but he’s not exactly fit–who crushes on the ship’s android pilot. Dorothy Stratten plays said pilot (the titular Galaxina) and even an incompetent director like Sachs knows not to give her too much to do. He cuts around her reaction shots, which is jarring–George Berndt and George Bowers don’t make a single competent cut in the film–but a lot better than when she talks.

Avery Schreiber plays the ship’s captain and gives a performance like an audition for a bad Mel Brooks movie. Actually, Galaxina is a lot like bad Mel Brooks. It’s parody–particularly of 2001, but also homage to that one, in addition to Star Wars, Alien and Darkstar.

Sachs’s script is an odd kind of dumb. He doesn’t understand humor.

CREDITS

Written and directed by William Sachs; director of photography, Dean Cundey; edited by George Berndt and George Bowers; production designer, Thomas Turlley; produced by Marilyn Jacobs Tenser; released by Crown International Pictures.

Starring Stephen Macht (Sgt. Thor), Avery Schreiber (Capt. Cornelius Butt), J.D. Hinton (Buzz), Dorothy Stratten (Galaxina), Lionel Mark Smith (Maurice), Tad Horino (Sam Wo), Ronald Knight (Ordric), Percy Rodrigues (Ordric’s Voice) and Aesop Aquarian (Chopper).


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How to Bridge a Gorge (1942, Ray Harryhausen)

How to Bridge a Gorge isn’t just an instructional video about how to, you know, bridge a gorge… it’s Ray Harryhausen showing off the possibilities for what the short calls “three dimensional animation.” In a lot of ways, the possibilities he suggests in this short–made to showcase stop motion to the Army during World War II–have never been realized.

There are no people in Gorge, there are no stand-ins for them. The objects move of their own volition, but some of these objects are recognizable vehicles–there’s an amazing plane too; there’s never the feeling Harryhausen’s being cartoonish. Instead, his craft is so strong, his proof of concept short transcends his ambitions for it.

The crisp color photography, the shot composition, the awkward bookends of narrative… they all contribute to making Gorge surreal. The technical methods are so obvious, they never factor into the viewing.

Gorge’s glorious.

CREDITS

Produced, directed, animated and photographed by Ray Harryhausen.

Richard Pryor: Live on the Sunset Strip (1982, Joe Layton)

Maybe it’s Sheldon Kahn’s editing, which doesn’t do the picture’s content justice, but Richard Pryor: Live on the Sunset Strip doesn’t feel seamless. The first twenty minutes or so do, however, which makes the change jarring.

All of a sudden, the reaction shots of the audience aren’t believable. Someone, either Pryor or director Layton, decided to showcase Jesse Jackson in the audience. It kills Sunset‘s focus on Pryor every time. And Sunset isn’t just a comedy special. It could get away with transgressions of that nature if it were.

No, Sunset is supposed to be something more. For the first third, the routine flows. Pryor connects all the material. Then he talks about visiting Africa and Sunset decides it’s going to be about something important–an entertainer trying to share a personal change with his audience and encourage them towards something.

But Sunset is even more ambitious. In a supposedly seamless transition from an old Southern black guy impression–which an audience member conveniently suggests–Pryor moves to discussing his cocaine addiction and his burn incident.

This segment takes up about the final fourth of the picture. Sunset isn’t just a comedy routine, it’s about Pryor as a person and a celebrity. Except Layton shot the thing like it’s a comedy concert picture–and Kahn edits it like it’s one. As the film gets more personal, the emphasis clearly needs to go on Pryor and it’s still split.

Haskell Wexler’s photography is great–Sunset‘s amazing to watch.

And Pryor’s magnificent.

CREDITS

Directed by Joe Layton; written and produced by Richard Pryor; director of photography, Haskell Wexler; edited by Sheldon Kahn; production designer, Michael Baugh; released by Columbia Pictures.


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Star Trek Into Darkness (2013, J.J. Abrams)

For Star Trek Into Darkness, J.J. Abrams operates with an “if it ain’t broke” mentality. It serves him–and the film–fairly well. Except Michael Giacchino’s music. While Abrams goes for sensationalism every time, he does it competently. The Giacchino music, however, is never competent.

This Trek tries hard to create mainstream post-modern; it’s a sequel to the first movie, yes, but it’s also a remake of a television series and a movie series. Not to mention Abrams and the writers gleefully wink at the franchise’s more memorable details. Into Darkness does have some serious moments and even tries hard to work arcs for some of its characters (it loses them too often), but it’s all for fun.

So why do Abrams and company get away with it? Usually the acting. Benedict Cumberbatch is fantastic as the villain, a 23rd century terrorist. If he wanted, he could act circles around Chris Pine and Zachary Quinto, but Cumberbatch gives them time to catch up. He’s the very special guest star, after all.

Both Pine and Quinto are good. Pine’s likable and believable but the script coddles him. He doesn’t have to run the movie. Karl Urban’s great as Bones, Simon Pegg’s fun as Scotty. John Cho and Anton Yelchin lack personality–the script doesn’t give them enough to do. Zoe Saldana’s okay, the script giving her too much to do.

Sadly, Peter Weller’s weak. He’s obviously stunt casting.

Into Darkness succeeds. Hopefully the next one will be more original.

CREDITS

Directed by J.J. Abrams; screenplay by Roberto Orci, Alex Kurtzman and Damon Lindelof, based on the television series created by Gene Roddenberry; director of photography, Daniel Mindel; edited by Maryann Brandon and Mary Jo Markey; music by Michael Giacchino; production designer, Scott Chambliss; produced by Abrams, Bryan Burk, Orci, Kurtzman and Lindelof; released by Paramount Pictures.

Starring Chris Pine (Kirk), Zachary Quinto (Spock), Zoe Saldana (Uhura), Karl Urban (Bones), Simon Pegg (Scotty), John Cho (Sulu), Anton Yelchin (Chekov), Benedict Cumberbatch (John Harrison), Alice Eve (Carol), Peter Weller (Admiral Marcus) and Bruce Greenwood (Captain Pike).


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The Seventh Victim (1943, Mark Robson)

Quite surprisingly, The Seventh Victim–in addition to being a disquieting, subtle thriller–is mostly about urban apathy and discontent. Though there aren’t any establishing shots of New York City (or of the small New England town protagonist Kim Hunter comes from), Robson and writers Charles O’Neal and DeWitt Bodeen are quite clear about it. There’s no a single happy character–or moment–in the picture.

It should be depressing, but the suspense in the main story–Hunter is trying to find her sister, Jean Brooks, who has disappeared–distracts. And I suppose if one wasn’t so engrossed with that plot, he or she could still keep up hope for some kind of nicety. Even O’Neal and Bodeen have a scene with a comment on positivity… the characters are clearly defeated, even if they are earnest.

Victim‘s narrative structure is also strange. The third act switches protagonists (though Hunter had been slowly giving way to admirer Erford Gage) and the filmmakers decide to go out on a high point instead of a narratively satisfying one. It just adds to the disquiet.

Robson’s direction is outstanding. He isn’t just able to handle the budget, he’s also able to capture all this muted sorrow in his actors. I don’t think Hunter has one intense moment–no screaming, no crying–but she’s constantly full of emotion. Gage, playing a pretentious poet, is fantastic. Hugh Beaumont is sturdy support and Tom Conway does a great job in a difficult role.

It’s an exceptional film.

CREDITS

Directed by Mark Robson; written by Charles O’Neal and DeWitt Bodeen; director of photography, Nicholas Musuraca; edited by John Lockert; music by Roy Webb; produced by Val Lewton; released by RKO Radio Pictures.

Starring Kim Hunter (Mary Gibson), Hugh Beaumont (Gregory Ward), Erford Gage (Jason Hoag), Tom Conway (Dr. Louis Judd), Jean Brooks (Jacqueline Gibson), Mary Newton (Esther Redi), Lou Lubin (Irving August), Marguerita Sylva (Mrs. Bella Romari) and Ben Bard (Mr. Brun).


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The Leopard Man (1943, Jacques Tourneur)

The Leopard Man has such beauteous production values–one would never think it was a low budget picture, not with Robert De Grasse’s lush blacks and he and director Tourneur’s tracking shots–it’s a shame the acting fails the film.

A lot of the problem the script. Co-screenwriters Ardel Wray and Edward Dein try hard to show Hispanic culture in a New Mexico town, both in the dialogue and the tone. Sadly, they fail miserably. The script seems to be showing the townspeople as solemnly dignified, but it comes off as callow and ignorant.

Tourneur follows prospective victims around to ratchet up the fear factor, which is a fine approach, but the actors are just terrible. Second-billed Margo gives such an awful performance–not to mention her character being a lousy human being in general–every time the titular monster takes a victim, it’s sad it’s not her. Her fellow ingenues, Margaret Landry and Tuulikki Paananen, are both awful too.

In the ostensible female lead, Jean Brooks is good but she has almost nothing to do. She and leading man Dennis O’Keefe are literally visitors in The Leopard Man; the film downgrades their presence to a subplot.

Good supporting work from James Bell and Abner Biberman helps. Ben Bard is iffy as the cop.

Great music from Roy Webb, excellent cutting from Mark Robson. Tourneur’s composition is outstanding no matter the scene. The Leopard Man is a technical delight to behold… it’s a shame about the middling stuff.

CREDITS

Directed by Jacques Tourneur; screenplay by Ardel Wray and Edward Dein, based on a novel by Cornell Woolrich; director of photography, Robert De Grasse; edited by Mark Robson; music by Roy Webb; produced by Val Lewton; released by RKO Radio Pictures.

Starring Dennis O’Keefe (Jerry Manning), Jean Brooks (Kiki Walker), James Bell (Dr. Galbraith), Ben Bard (Chief Roblos), Abner Biberman (Charlie How-Come), Margaret Landry (Teresa Delgado), Tuulikki Paananen (Consuelo Contreras), Isabel Jewell (Maria the Fortune Teller) and Margo (Clo-Clo).


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The Jewel of the Nile (1985, Lewis Teague)

If there’s a better example of why not every successful film should have a sequel than The Jewel of the Nile, I can’t think of it.

Nile should be a lot of fun–Michael Douglas and Kathleen Turner are still likable, Danny DeVito’s still hilarious… but it soon becomes clear Douglas and Turner are more likable apart. Her character has completely changed, while his changes might just be seen as character development. Might.

Screenwriters Mark Rosenthal and Lawrence Konner don’t really have a story for the duo, so they flop their way into one. There’s a lot of resolution to the previous film’s ending, which seems like a waste of run time. The first twenty minutes of Nile could be done in three lines of good expository dialogue.

The film does have some decent action, thanks to too much money, a fine workman director in Teague and great Jan de Bont photography. The Jack Nitzsche score is iffy, but Peter Boita and Michael Ellis’s editing is sublime. It never gets boring, even when the action scenes are clearly padded out. There’s just too much technical competence.

Nile does rely a lot on racial stereotypes. The filmmakers seem to think they’re being respectful, but it’s still uncomfortably exploitative.

One of the script’s biggest mistakes is to give DeVito his own storyline. He’d have been funnier with Douglas and Turner, who instead accompany Avner Eisenberg. Eisenberg is no DeVito.

It’s also too bad Douglas can’t feign interest. He produced it after all.

CREDITS

Directed by Lewis Teague; screenplay by Mark Rosenthal and Lawrence Konner, based on characters created by Diane Thomas; director of photography, Jan de Bont; edited by Peter Boita and Michael Ellis; music by Jack Nitzsche; production designers, Richard Dawking and Terry Knight; produced by Michael Douglas; released by 20th Century Fox.

Starring Michael Douglas (Jack Colton), Kathleen Turner (Joan Wilder), Danny DeVito (Ralph), Spiros Focás (Omar), Avner Eisenberg (Al-Julhara), Paul David Magid (Tarak), Hamid Fillali (Rachid) and Holland Taylor (Gloria).


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Murder on a Honeymoon (1935, Lloyd Corrigan)

Murder on a Honeymoon is a tepid outing for Edna May Oliver and James Gleason’s detecting duo. It’s the third in the series and, while Oliver and Gleason are back, it’s clear some of the magic was behind the camera. Robert Benchley and Seton I. Miller’s script is a little too nice (in addition to being boring) and Lloyd Corrigan’s direction lacks any inspiration.

Honeymoon takes place on Catalina, which–from the film–seems to be the most boring vacation spot in the world. The only time the murder investigation overlaps with vacation activities is in a closed casino, which is one of the film’s better sequences.

But the script’s the real problem. It ignores suspects, forgets the supporting cast and makes Gleason way too nice to Oliver. Their bickering originally had a give and take–in Honeymoon, Gleason pulls his punches. The only one being really mean to Oliver is the film’s confirmed villain.

Even the supporting cast is a little weak. None of them have story arcs–except Lola Lane–and she’s absent for most of her own arc. Lane isn’t in the picture long enough to make an impression, but DeWitt Jennings is rather weak and Spencer Charters’s incompetent local police chief needs work. It might not be Charters’s fault, since the script never lets Oliver cut into him deep enough.

There are some amusing moments with Arthur Hoyt’s unprofessional medical examiner though.

The murderer’s identity’s a surprise, but a surprise doesn’t make up for the rest.

CREDITS

Directed by Lloyd Corrigan; screenplay by Seton I. Miller and Robert Benchley, based on a novel by Stuart Palmer; director of photography, Nicholas Musuraca; edited by William Morgan; music by Alberto Colombo; produced by Kenneth Macgowan; released by RKO Radio Pictures.

Starring Edna May Oliver (Hildegarde Withers), James Gleason (Inspector Oscar Piper), Lola Lane (Phyllis La Font), George Meeker (Tom Kelsey), Harry Ellerbe (Mr. Deving), Dorothy Libaire (Mrs. Deving), Leo G. Carroll (Director Joseph B. Tate), DeWitt Jennings (Captain Beegle), Spencer Charters (Chief Of Police Britt), Arthur Hoyt (Dr. O’Rourke), Chick Chandler (Pilot French), Matt McHugh (Pilot Madden), Willie Best (Willie the Porter), Morgan Wallace (McArthur) and Brooks Benedict (Roswell T. Forrest).


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The Thirteenth Guest (1932, Albert Ray)

The Thirteenth Guest has a lot of problems, but its biggest failing is Frances Hyland’s script. Hyland doesn’t just have a lot of logic problems, he also has a bunch of lousy humor. There’s Paul Hurst’s moronic police detective, who Hyland relies on for Guest‘s version of comic relief. Hurst whines a lot and annoys J. Farrell MacDonald, who should be a lot better as his superior. Why isn’t MacDonald better? Because Hyland writes in a bunch of jokes about MacDonald being upset about eccentric wealthy people.

But the dumbest part of Hyland’s script has to be protagonist Lyle Talbot’s passionate anti-murder position. He just can’t stand murder… as opposed to being pro-murder. But Hyland also decides to make the dapper Talbot a reluctant genius detective. So, while Talbot can’t stand murder, he apparently can’t stand having to solve murder cases even more.

Still, Talbot gives a strong performance and, at times, he nearly makes Guest worthwhile. There are some other good supporting performances from James Eagles and Frances Rich. In the other lead role, Ginger Rogers is somewhat ineffective. She’s a lot better in her first scene than she is in the rest of the picture.

Ray’s direction isn’t bad, but Leete Renick Brown’s editing is terrible. The low budget hurts Guest quite a bit. Ray isn’t able to establish any settings. It all looks too cheap in daylight.

Guest should have a compelling narrative, but the budget keeps those involved from taking advantage of it.

CREDITS

Directed by Albert Ray; screenplay by Frances Hyland, based on the novel by Armitage Trail; directors of photography, Tom Galligan and Harry Neumann; edited by Leete Renick Brown; produced by M.H. Hoffman; released by Monogram Pictures.

Starring Lyle Talbot (Phil Winston), Ginger Rogers (Marie Morgan), J. Farrell MacDonald (Police Capt. Ryan), Paul Hurst (Detective Grump), Erville Alderson (Uncle John Adams), Ethel Wales (Aunt Jane Thornton), James Eagles (Harold ‘Bud’ Morgan), Crauford Kent (Dr. Sherwood), Eddie Phillips (Thor Jensen), Frances Rich (Marjorie Thornton) and Phillips Smalley (Uncle Dick Thornton).


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Meet the Parents (2000, Jay Roach)

Meet the Parents requires an extraordinary suspension of disbelief. It’s an absurdist comedy, but the presence of Robert De Niro and–maybe even more so–Blythe Danner imply Parents is based in some kind of reality.

So the simplest thing–believing Teri Polo could be a well-adjusted adult after growing up with De Niro as a father–becomes Parents’s first hurdle. She and Ben Stiller have only the mildest chemistry and it only goes downhill as the film gets more absurd (and more funny).

Director Roach isn’t capable enough to make that romance, which should be the primary focus of Parents narratively, work, so he concentrates on De Niro and Stiller being funny together. It works. Stiller and De Niro are very funny together. While Stiller actually gives a good performance, De Niro’s is problematic. His best moments are either with Danner or Stiller. When De Niro has to play off Owen Wilson, it feels wrong, like De Niro’s doing a “Saturday Night Live” sketch mocking the film.

Roach’s inabilities carry over into the technical aspects as well. He can’t decide how realistic he wants Parents to play–the film opens with a series of home video shots and there’s some Steadicam later on, but it’s mostly static. It doesn’t necessarily need to choose, but it’s clear Roach is simply incapable of making the decision.

Towards the end, Parents gets very long. It can’t handle with the return to sensibly behaving characters. The acting helps get it through.

CREDITS

Directed by Jay Roach; screenplay by Jim Herzfeld and John Hamburg, based on a story by Greg Glienna and Mary Ruth Clarke; director of photography, Peter James; edited by Greg Hayden and Jon Poll; music by Randy Newman; production designer, Rusty Smith; produced by Robert De Niro, Roach, Jane Rosenthal and Nancy Tenenbaum; released by Universal Pictures.

Starring Robert De Niro (Jack Byrnes), Ben Stiller (Greg Focker), Teri Polo (Pam Byrnes), Blythe Danner (Dina Byrnes), James Rebhorn (Dr. Larry Banks), Jon Abrahams (Denny Byrnes), Phyllis George (Linda Banks), Kali Rocha (Atlantic American Flight Attendant), Thomas McCarthy (Dr. Bob Banks), Nicole DeHuff (Deborah Byrnes) and Owen Wilson (Kevin Rawley).


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