Visiting Hours (1982, Jean-Claude Lord)

At the beginning, Visiting Hours pretends it will be about network news commentator Lee Grant. Despite being openly Canadian, the film also pretends it takes place in Washington D.C., based on the hate mail responses protagonist Michael Ironside frames on his wall. They never specify, so maybe he did write Grant when she worked in D.C., before she up and moved to somewhere else. Still not Canada, as her news program is called “America Today.”

And while her boss and seeming boyfriend William Shatner has some flexes throughout—particularly in wardrobe, Shatner’s baby blue suit is a look—he doesn’t seem to be running a Canadians mock Americans TV show. Bummer.

The movie opens with Grant interviewing some prosecutor about a case. A woman killed her abusive husband in self-defense, and the prosecutor is very much “that’s not allowed,” a position Grant takes issue with. Bad guy, but lead of the movie Ironside has snuck into the studio to watch her record this interview, and it really pisses him off. Ironside’s character motivation is pretty simple—his dad, who molested him, tried raping his mom once, and the mom defended herself. Hence, kill all women. At least the ones who talk.

Ironside also hates every marginalized group, something potential love interest Lenore Zann notices right before their already awkward date turns into an assault. That scene is where I realized even though she’s top-billed in the opening titles, Grant is not the lead of Visiting Hours, because there’s no reason to have it except to track Ironside’s creep. Zann comes back a couple times later on, first to meet hospital nurse Linda Purl when Purl’s out at the community clinic, then, later on, to try to save the day.

The day needs saving because the cops in Visiting Hours, may they be the Washington D.C. cops or the Quebecois mais angalis cops, are some of the most incompetent cops in movie history. They’ve encamped at the hospital for much of the film because Ironside keeps trying to kill Grant but only manages to kill other patients or staff. The cops can’t figure out how he’s getting in, possibly because they don’t ever figure anything out. Or even try. Visiting Hours lacks doctors and hospital administrators in the story, presumably because their presence would break the movie’s too thin logic.

There are a series of suspense sequences, primarily for Grant or Purl (who Ironside starts targeting because she’s a single mom; her ex-husband was apparently abusive, but the movie speeds through it), and none of them are ever suspenseful. The film’s got shockingly little going for it technically—Lord’s directing is bad, but René Verzier’s blue-tinting photography is worse. The scenes all look bad; it doesn’t matter how Lord or co-editor Lise Thouin cut them. The sound is particularly poorly done in the film, not the actual sound design or editing, but whatever Lord told them to do with it. Or not do with it.

Jonathan Goldsmith’s music is probably the best technical element. It’s usually acceptable, briefly good, rarely terrible.

I’m not sure how you’d write Visiting Hours well, but Brian Taggert doesn’t know either. It’s probably impossible given the movie doesn’t want to sympathize or empathize with Ironside, which is fine, but given most of the film is spent hanging out with him, it’s a problem. It’s also unclear if Ironside could be any better. He’s awful, but how could he be any better. He’s a stone-faced slasher movie villain with boring subplots.

Grant, Purl, and Shatner all do okay given the circumstances, though it’s a blatant waste of Grant. It’s not an obvious waste of Purl (or Shatner), which isn’t exactly a compliment. However, there should’ve been more Shatner and Grant—he gets a kick out of their scenes—whereas there’s probably too much Purl. Terrorizing her little kids is a little much.

Visiting Hours is probably too competent for its own good—there’s no schlock value—but it’s a complete waste of time.

Other than Shatner’s phenomenal wardrobe. At one point, he’s got what appears to be a combination dressing gown trench coat. It’s unreal.

Nobody (2021, Ilya Naishuller)

Wouldn’t it be funny if Bob Odenkirk were an action movie hero? Like a kick-ass one who doesn’t just use machine guns, but also does a lot of hand-to-hand fighting?

If you’re unfamiliar with Odenkirk, let’s just say it’s a “cast against type” situation to the extremis. Only it doesn’t matter because action movie special effects have gotten to the point they can turn anyone—quite easily—into an action movie hero.

Odenkirk is a Nobody, which is both a gimmick line and part of the eventual reveal. It takes an hour—into Nobody’s still very long ninety-seven minutes—to find out just how and why boring suburban dad Odenkirk is an old man action hero. The reveal’s not worth it, but if it had been worth it—especially after the plodding first act (Nobody’s relentlessly tedious)—it would’ve been a miracle given Derek Kolstad’s simultaneously lazy and bad script and director Naishuller’s startling mediocrity. There are some (many?) bad moments in Nobody’s direction, but there’s not a single good one. Never does Naishuller show any ingenuity, imagination, or… well, I’d love to find another i-word but it’s not surprise the film doesn’t have any insight… what would it have insight in? Certainly not any of the characters. Everyone’s either disposable, a stunt cast, or a disposable stunt cast.

Though it’s not not nice to see Christopher Lloyd able to kick it up a bit at eighty-three. And Michael Ironside is better than almost everyone else in the film with just two short scenes (he’s Odenkirk’s boss and father-in-law). But RZA’s not the stunt cast the film pretends, ditto Colin Salmon, though Salmon at least gets a real-ish scene. RZA’s just there for the pyrotechnics and smash cuts.

Evan Schiff and William Yeh’s cutting is incredibly even less imaginative than Naishuller’s direction; their lack of rhythm—along with Kolstad’s lousy writing—is what makes Nobody drag. Everyone’s trying to inflict personality on the picture only no one’s got any.

It’s most unfortunate for Odenkirk, who’s a game protagonist, but since the film’s so bad at turning him into an action hero, it’s never anything but the gimmick. Once it’s clear he can do the gimmick—and it’s clear really early on, sometime during the interminable first act—there’s nothing else to him.

Nobody gets a little energy out of big bad Aleksey Serebryakov—a karaoke-loving Russian mobster—at least until it’s clear Serebryakov isn’t any good. Is it his fault? Or is it Kolstad’s? Or Naishuller’s? Or maybe it’s just Nobody’s fault nobody is any good in Nobody.

The movie’s a middling “Saturday Night Live” sketch stretched out to almost 100 minutes.

It does have a good soundtrack—I mean, it opens with Nina Simone (and also a cute kitty cat), but then it turns out the Nina Simone (and the cute kitty cat) are just a ruse and they’ve got nothing to do with the content. But the soundtrack selections are a solid playlist. Editors Schiff and Yeh don’t cut things well to the songs, because of course they don’t, but at least during those sequences the music’s good. Otherwise, David Buckley’s score is the pits.

Nobody’s a badly written, badly directed, bland, bloody bore.

Scanners (1981, David Cronenberg)

About a half hour into Scanners, the film starts to run out of its initial steam. Director Cronenberg (who also scripted) opens the film with some dynamic set pieces–lead Stephen Lack mind frying a mean woman, Lack on the run from goons, Patrick McGoohan chaining Lack down and torturing him (apparently), and Michael Ironside blowing up some guy’s head with his mind. Scanners is a lot right off. Oh, and then a car chase action sequence after the head explosion. Again, it’s a lot.

And then it’s time for the first exposition dump. McGoohan is trying to find “good” Scanners, who are telepaths, like Lack. Ironside is trying to find bad ones. Both want them as biological weapons, McGoohan just wants to sell them to humans. Ironside wants to subjugate the humans. Not all that information comes out at the first info dump, mostly just McGoohan bickering with security chief Lawrence Dane. Dane doesn’t trust McGoohan, but Cronenberg wants the viewer to side against Dane. It’s a confusing turn of events at the end, just because McGoohan’s not a sympathetic character and Dane seems square but level-headed.

Then Lack comes in and goes on a secret mission around Canada as a double agent to join Ironside’s group. Previous to this point in his life story, Lack’s character had been homeless. Now he’s a well-dressed Canadian, kind of a maple syrup James Bond. Only he’s not particularly good at the secret agent stuff. Eventually he meets a girl Scanner–Jennifer O’Neill–who he actually treats terribly and roughly, which is a little disconcerting at times because apparently Lack is supposed to be sympathetic and likable. He’s not, of course, because his performance has all the life of a once damp towel. Same for O’Neill. Same for McGoohan. Dane gives the film’s best performance almost by default.

Well, except for Ironside. I mean, Cronenberg front loads the film with action. He saves some effects work for the grand finale, but there’s no action to it. There’s exposition, there’s pointless contrivance. Cronenberg keeps throwing out big revelations to try to get some emotional connection to the characters, but they’re impervious–Ironside should be intellectually sympathetic but Cronenberg can’t swing it. He really does rely on Lack instead and Lack crumbles, time and again.

But until the late second act, Ironside’s a perfectly good thuggish villain. Sure, he’s also a millionaire war profiteer but it’s Canada, it’s just how Canadian millionaire war profiteering Scanners who operate out of desolate office parks operate.

Nice photography from Mark Irwin, some occasionally strong editing from Ronald Sanders. Once O’Neill and Lack have teamed up in their chemistry-free quest for… it’s unclear. Cronenberg has at least two jumbo red herrings in the script just to keep things moving, which might work at ninety minutes but at over a hundred it’s a slog.

Howard Shore’s music is competent, occasionally Hitchcockian, but most often too much. Cronenberg never really gets a sense of the locations in the film and Shore’s music defaults to filling in mood. But it’s not good at filling in mood.

Really, until O’Neill shows up and becomes Lack’s Eva Marie Saint, Scanners can almost get through. Cronenberg’s got Dane, he’s got Ironside. Sure, Lack’s vacant but maybe he’s supposed to be vacant in that poorly acted way. The strange part about the film is how the first act’s well-plotted. Shame the rest of it is either aimless or misguided.

This post is part of the O Canada Blogathon hosted by Ruth of Silver Screenings and Kristina of Speakeasy.

Highlander II: The Quickening (1991, Russell Mulcahy)

Highlander II: The Quickening has had a reputation as a sequel disaster since its release. Outside of “Starlog” write-ups, did anyone ever pretend to be excited about this film? But since its initial release (and multiple home video re-releases with different editing), The Quickening has actually gotten to be a wonderful time capsule of its era and situation.

The film is desperate. It goes all out. People like hoverboards from Back to the Future Part II, let’s have hoverboards. The ladies liked stars Christopher Lambert and Sean Connery with long hair in the first one, let’s do all long hair in the second one. Highlander 2 ought to be subtitled Big Hair and Big Swords because it’s desperate enough to give villain Michael Ironside long hair, presumably to make him… sexy?

Now. Ironside. Real quick. He ought to look embarrassed and he doesn’t. He gets through. John C. McGinley not so much, but Ironside gets through. He’s the lamest early nineties movie villain–a mix of the savage punk villain from the previous Highlander and Jack Nicholson’s Joker from Batman–but Ironside does get through it.

Sean Connery’s actually okay enough. Lambert’s bad but how could anyone be good. He’s so bad he’s better under the old age make-up at the beginning than when he’s young again.

Virginia Madsen is not good as the love interest. It’s a terrible part, but she’s still not good. Oh, look, a metaphor for the entire film. It’s terrible for multiple reasons, but it could never be good. Even when Highlander 2 does something right for a little while, it gets screwed up. Director Mulcahy has a handful of decent concepts, but they’re either too short or ultimately fail. And when it seems like a perfect Mulcahy moment–many of the sets are enormous so Mulcahy can do his swinging crane shots–he never takes advantage. It’s puzzling and disconcerting.

Weird score from Stewart Copeland, weirder pop soundtrack. Both are bad, but interesting in their weirdness. Like everything else, they’re desperate to appear hip. Peter Bellwood’s lousy script apes corporations as bad guys from Robocop and Total Recall, bringing along poor Ironside from that latter as well. Highlander 2 is a sequel to a cable and home video hit desperately trying to be a cable and home video hit.

I suppose it’s oddly appropriate a film about immortality is also such a perfect time capsule of a popular filmmaking era. It’s such a perfect example of it, I’m only moderately embarrassed to have written over 400 words about it right now.

Total Recall (1990, Paul Verhoeven)

Total Recall opens with some of the best music Jerry Goldsmith has ever scored. It then moves on to a sci-fi sequence, set on Mars, and Verhoeven soon gets in his first animatronic head. There are a lot of animatronic heads, which get exposed to atmosphere and explode or get turned into grenades and so on. Some of these sequences are entirely unnecessary and it’s just Verhoeven showing off.

Most of Recall is along those lines. It’s Verhoeven showing off. He mixes a rough, violent action picture with a high-minded sci-fi story and the result is rather successful. There are a handful of bad performances, but Schwarzenegger’s fine in the lead and the movie’s mostly him so it works out. There are also a bunch of good performances; while they can’t overcome the bad ones, they help.

Worst are Sharon Stone and Michael Ironside. Stone’s just plain bad, nothing special, but Ironside’s in a spot in Recall. He’s this big heavy (supposedly) but he’s opposite Ronny Cox, who knows how to play a big heavy. Ironside gets chewed up in their scenes together.

Mel Johnson Jr. is fairly awful, but Rachel Ticotin is all right. Marshall Bell and Ray Baker are great.

The film’s greatest asset is Verhoeven. He manages to make it a slyly absurdist comedy. With editors Frank J. Urioste and Carlos Puente, he constructs these wonderful tight scenes. His composition isn’t particularly thoughtful; he’s utilizing forceful action in the shots.

It’s pretty darned good.

Highlander II: The Quickening (1991, Russell Mulcahy), the international version

When subjecting myself to Highlander II, I wanted to find the worst version possible. Over the years, the director and then the producers have returned to the film and tried to edit the footage into something more palatable. Of course, these attempts are not just hampered by the use of existing footage (it’s not like there’s some great version lost out there), but also by the fact the film’s one of the worst acted motion pictures in the medium (at least by professional actors).

So the version I watched has all the alien planet references, which contradict the first movie, among other assaults on the intellect. Given I don’t like the first one–it’s far better than this one though–I don’t really care about the continuity. I care more about things like Christopher Lambert essentially forcing himself on Virginia Madsen. One of his new magical powers is Love Potion #9… or she just got Stockholm Syndrome super fast.

Madsen might give the best performance. Either her or Sean Connery. Both are pretty bad by regular standards, but when they’re giving these performances amid Lambert, Michael Ironside (who might give a worse performance than Lambert, which is extraordinary) and John C. McGinley (did he ever work again after this one?)….

I spent about half the movie wondering what a well-budgeted, well-scripted Russell Mulcahy effort would be like–then remembered The Shadow (which is superb). Even though he’s shooting idiotic material and bad performances, Mulcahy’s talent is clearly visible.

Guy X (2005, Saul Metzstein)

No studio picked up Guy X for a theatrical release. I kept seeing it in Jason Biggs’s filmography, kept waiting for it to show up in a theater and it never did. I assumed the worst from the lack of theatrical release–not to mention thinking Mena Suvari was in the film (it’s Natascha McElhone). After seeing it–actually, maybe halfway into it–I realized why there was no theatrical release. It’d be impossible to sell. Guy X is an epical story masquerading as a character study. Most of the epical narrative developments occur off screen. There are no gripping, tense moments. It’s not even subtle. It’s disinterested in the viewer’s expectation. I’m guessing it’s either a good adaptation of the novel or there’s a lot on the editing room floor.

The plot–Jason Biggs is mistakenly sent to a remote Army base in Greenland (instead of Hawaii) and encounters a strange set of characters, an alluring young woman (McElhone) and a nutty colonel (a great Jeremy Northam)–is kind of simple and kind of not. Guy X could easily be a M*A*S*H knock-off–it does feel a bit like the show anyway–but it’s not. It kind of reminded me of Antarctic Journal, a film no one involved with Guy X could have seen (unless they visited the future). Guy X has lots of scenes of isolation–Biggs is frequently alone in the film, with the supporting cast often less salient than the scenery–but that theme isn’t the prevailing one… but I don’t know what is then.

There is lots of comedy, sometimes easy, sometimes not. There’s a scene with the soldiers watching the same movie they’ve seen week after week, reciting the lines in unison and it’s funny, but there’s something else to it. There’s romance–the film wastes no time establishing the attraction between Biggs and McElhone and the actors do a fantastic job. But then there’s also the big story line, the important one, and the film handles it in a particular manner. It’s hard to explain but basically, the film never explains why Biggs does what he does and, more singularly, it never applauds him for his actions. There’s no payoff for the viewer.

Biggs, whose career has gotten depressing to the point I don’t even want to look on IMDb (but I am and ouch, why has Woody abandoned him), is great. It’s a non-comedic leading man role from him, something I kind of wasn’t expecting. He’s fantastic–especially given he’s got to make the character, a relative enigma, work with all sorts of mild revelations. McElhone is good too. Much of the film depends on their chemistry and they excel.

The supporting cast is all strong. Northam’s playing an American here, great job. Michael Ironside’s great. In the flashiest role, Sean Tucker does a fine job.

Saul Metzstein hasn’t directed much but he does a wonderful job. There’s the wide aspect of the always light Greenland landscape contrasted with the confined Army base–then even more confined when everything goes dark. At times, he reminded me of Lars Von Trier, though I don’t know why… something about the handling of space. François Dagenais’s cinematography and the music–by Hilmar Örn Hilmarsson and Charlie Mole–are also essential components.

As the film ended, I wondered if I was giving it too much credit or too little. I decided on too little. (It’s gotten to the point I can’t believe it when recent films are actually good).

3.5/4 ★★★½

CREDITS

Directed by Saul Metzstein; screenplay by Steve Attridge and John Paul Chapple, based on a novel by John Griesemer; director of photography, François Dagenais; edited by Anne Sopel; music by Hilmar Örn Hilmarsson and Charlie Mole; production designer, Mike Gunn; produced by Mike Downey, Jason Piette and Sam Taylor; released by First Look International.

Starring Jason Biggs (Rudy), Natascha McElhone (Irene), Jeremy Northam (Woolwrap), Sean Tucker (Lavone), Hilmir Snær Guðnason (Petri), Harry Standjofski (Chaplain Brank), Rob deLeeuw (Slim), Donny Falsetti (Genteen), Jonathan Higgins (Vord) and Michael Ironside (Guy X).


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