The Flash (1990, Robert Iscove)

As a pilot movie, The Flash is a success. It establishes its regular cast—John Wesley Shipp, Amanda Pays, Alex Désert, Paula Marshall (who wasn’t back, but sure seemed like she would be)—and doing an admirable, post-Burton Batman live-action superhero. Danny Elfman even contributes the theme, while composer Shirley Walker keeps the rest in Elfmanesque line.

There are also some solid guest stars—Tim Thomerson and Priscilla Pointer—and some okay ones—M. Emmet Walsh (he’s just barely putting in any effort) and Lycia Naff. No superhero (even TV) movie can be without a villain, which is where The Flash shows its age. Michael Nader plays the villain, an ex-cop who escaped prison when arrested for highway robbery and recruited the city’s unhoused twentysomethings into a motorcycle gang. They’re the “Dark Riders,” which the movie pretends is a scary name. A few times, it seems like they changed something with The Flash–including the Dark Riders having a blood spot on their jackets–and it seems like that name came in late. Like, Shipp’s supposedly watching the news about them and grinning, even though it’s during his dark arc.

Shipp’s a crime lab scientist in the days before “CSI” made it popular. Big brother Thomerson is the city super cop, and dad Walsh used to be on the beat (mom Pointer had Shipp promise to stay in a safe job)–the first act’s about Shipp’s resentment about not being a real cop. The third act will be his “with great power comes great responsibility” arc, recovering from the death of a loved one, which motivates him to seek revenge against the villains.

He was trying to solve the case anyway because he wanted to show Walsh he could do it and to help out Thomerson. The Flash is copaganda by default, but the cops can’t keep up with the villains—even if they’re just seventies exploitation baddies done with a budget and “90210” extras—so they need a superhero to help them out. Luckily, Shipp just happens to have been struck by lightning and doused in various chemicals–the result: super speed.

Shipp’s super speed discovery subplot is a lot of fun—Shipp’s got a dog to play off, which gives the pilot a surprising amount of texture—and the pilot leans into the wonderment value for a while. Shipp’s got to team up with Star Labs scientist Pays (they’re the local super-lab, the one with the government contracts and super soldier programs) to figure out his new powers and, even though he’s dating Marshall and Pays is a tragic widow, they have some chemistry from go.

The movie’s third act, when it’s all about Shipp exacting his suitable-for-prime-time vengeance on the bad guys, is where The Flash gets lost in the fog. It’s trying not to be too mean—giving Shipp one-liners, for instance—but it doesn’t want to take any time giving them characterization. Especially not in case it makes them sympathetic. It’s cruel about its callousness, though the pilot does okay rendering cartoon villains in live-action.

In addition to the Batman ‘89 vibes, The Flash lifts a bunch from Robocop, including the police uniforms. The Flash cops are just missing the helmets, really. Though I guess only the motorcycle squad, who goes after Nader. The Flash doesn’t have any great motorcycle scenes. There are a bunch of places it feels like they skip around for budgetary reasons. Like Nader’s reign of terror. The opening scene establishes the streets aren’t safe, but then Shipp’s superpower discovery arc is full of nice restaurants and lovely parks. It’s apparently not unsafe until dark, at which point it becomes a hellhole.

Shipp works better in the brighter sections. He’s only got a handful of dramatic scenes, and he does okay with most of them. Not really the most important one, but it’s also a rough scene, thanks to the costars. Shipp handles it adequately. Some of the problem is writers Danny Bilson and Paul De Meo don’t know how to end the pilot. Or, if they do, it’s way too rushed.

The special effects are excellent for TV. More impressive is the production design, which has many art deco touches but also very late eighties modern designs. The sets are always interesting to see; it’s inviting. It works out very well (Dean Edward Mitzer did the production design, Jeannie Gunn decorated sets, and an uncredited Hugo Santiago was on art direction, which is a lot—the murals are gorgeous). Good photography from Sandi Sissel, and good editing from Frank E. Jimenez. At first, it seems like Jimenez has problems cutting conversations, but then it becomes clear director Iscove wasn’t getting the coverage. Iscove’s direction hurts Walsh’s performance the most.

Biff Manard and Vito D'Ambrosio are a hoot as the Mutt and Jeff cops (they continue into the show).

The Flash finishes with a promise for more but isn’t specific about what more will be, other than Shipp in a red suit, running fast, Pays nagging him to think about his limitations, Désert being the charming straight-man sidekick, and Marshall… well, Marshall’s apparently just going to moon over Shipp. Based on how little Marshall got to do in the third act versus the first, maybe they adjusted since they knew she wasn’t back.

Shipp’s a good lead, and Pays—who keeps very busy onscreen even when she doesn’t get material, which makes the character immediately distinctive—is a good confidante. Bumps aside—thankfully, no lags—The Flash sets the show up quite well. Next week, same Flash time, same Flash channel.

This post is part of the 9th Annual Favourite TV Show Episode Blogathon hosted by Terence Towles Canote of A Shroud of Thoughts.

Leviathan (1989, George P. Cosmatos)

Leviathan has to be one of the few films where the hero punches out a woman for audience satisfaction, which is actually quite an achievement for the film, since it’s so derivative. Leviathan is Alien, John Carpenter’s The Thing, and Peter Hyams’ Outland rolled together, with an amazing 1980s cast kneaded into the dough–there’s Ernie Hudson from Ghostbusters, Daniel Stern in his final, pre-Home Alone role, and Lisa Eilbacher from Beverly Hills Cop. Stern essentially plays his Home Alone role and Eilbacher isn’t particularly good (but, the good heavily outweighs the bad), but Hudson’s likable. The script gives the actors a little something–quirks, good speeches, anything to establish them in a couple minutes.

Leviathan is one of David Webb Peoples’ genre scripts. Peoples is known for Blade Runner, Unforgiven, and Twelve Monkeys, but he also wrote a lot of other sci-fi stuff that ended up getting made. Leviathan is actually a rather well-constructed film. It’s tense when it’s supposed to be tense and it never takes itself too seriously–though it would be hard, since Peter Weller is well-aware of what he’s doing (I think he once said he took the role so he could get a free trip to Italy). There’s even character establishment well into the second act, which I always like, coming out naturally instead of being explained to the audience. The script’s far from perfect–it prejudges Stern’s character, making it impossible for the audience to care about him.

When I worked at a video store, I once recommended Leviathan to someone over The Abyss (they came out at the same time). I caught hell for it from the customer and from a co-worker, but there’s nothing wrong with Leviathan. It’s beautiful–shot by Alex Thomson of all people–it’s ninety-six minutes of dumb fun with no glaring faults. Weller is always an interesting lead actor, it’s probably Richard Crenna’s finest work (Alien³ is actually derivative of Leviathan when it comes to medical officers), and Amanda Pays is good in the film. I rented it after I watched Dead on the Money and she’s actually good for a lot of Leviathan–she relates better to the film camera than the TV camera.

So, I feel rather vindicated. Now, I’m not recommending Leviathan, but there wouldn’t be anything wrong with it if I was….

Dead on the Money (1991, Mark Cullingham)

I’m reading the only online review of Dead on the Money (well, only other once I post this one, I suppose)–it was a Turner Original Picture, airing on TNT and it’s not on DVD, so I suppose it’s somewhat rare–and the reviewer complains the “atmosphere of humor makes it difficult to take the film all that seriously.” Unfortunately, the reviewer seems to have missed the point of Dead on the Money. I’m sure there’s a word for it, but I don’t know it, but what Dead on the Money does is spoof the type of movie called Dead on the Money. The source novella (Rachel Ingalls’ The End of Tragedy) seems–from my Googling–to have a similar philosophy, but Dead on the Money has a better title and the all important cast.

Amanda Pays was, at the time, one of those actresses who popped up on lots of TV shows–she was on “The Flash” and she was on “Max Headroom.” I can’t remember how she was on “The Flash,” but in Dead on the Money, she’s more charming than good. It’s not a particular problem, because she’s in on the joke. The film probably got some publicity because it also stars–as her romantic interest–her real-life husband, Corbin Bernsen. Bernsen is in on the joke too, but he’s not Cary Grant and he sort of needed to be… However, John Glover is perfect in the film, playing a goofy, mama’s boy with a gambling addiction. But it’s not a serious gambling addiction of course (there’s nothing serious in the film)–Glover’s character just sort of assumes that role. Kevin McCarthy plays Glover’s father and it’s McCarthy in his second career prime. He’s only in the film for about five minutes but he’s hilarious in every second of them.

The reason I saw Dead on the Money in the first place is Eleanor Parker. In her last role to date, she plays Glover’s mother. It’s probably the least showy main role in the film and Parker does a great job with it. There are a couple scenes with she and McCarthy alone and, free of the plot constraints, she just opens up, appreciating the goofiness. Parker also gets to laugh at the film’s absurdity at the end, along with Pays, in a nice scene (though it’s not one of Pays’ better moments in the film).

Dead on the Money is an oddly rewarding experience. It’s a somewhat small reward–I’m not sure the romantic thriller genre really needed to be sardonically analyzed in a romantic thriller–but it’s still worth it. For the scenes with Parker and McCarthy alone… and Glover really is a lot of fun.