Blogcritics Author: T. Rigney

Announcement: Short-content feeds

Phillip Winn — Sun, 26 Aug 2007 12:00:00 EDT

Sunday, August 26, 2007, marks the switch of all Blogcritics.org article feeds from full-content to short-content. This is the result of several converging factors, and is unfortunately a permanent decision (as permanent as any decision can be on the web, that is). We are aware of all of the reasons that this is a Bad Idea, and we are aware that some of you will be quite upset about having to click on something to read the free content, and we're sorry. Unfortunately, despite great effort, full-content feeds are not currently economically viable. Two other factors are involved: full-content feeds have resulted in an unprecedented level of content theft, with BC content appearing on many websites, usually spam sites, without attribution or permission. This duplicate content causes a cascading set of problems, not the least of which is that search engines generally aren't favorable to duplicate content, and don't always guess correctly. Finally, our RSS advertising partner is strongly in favor of short-content feeds. We hope that you'll continue to subscribe to BC via RSS, and when an article grabs your eye, it's only a click away, still free on the BC website. Thank you for your understanding.

Movie Review: Pet Sematary Two

T. Rigney — Thu, 28 Jun 2007 23:27:43 EDT

When someone kindly asks you not to bury your childhood pet and/or loved one in the ancient Indian burial ground just over the hill, it might be a wise decision to leave well enough alone. Resurrecting the recently deceased almost always ends in anguish, turmoil, and several buckets of juicy red bloodshed. Even if you think you've got the corpse's best interest in mind, chances are you're only going to piss this person off by dragging them kicking and screaming from the afterlife and forcing them to wander around inside a rotting skin suit. Larry King has been doing reanimated interviews for close to ten years now, and the guy never looks particularly happy about his station in life.Before you make the questionable choice to awaken your dead lover from his or her eternal slumber in the kingdom of whatever bearded deity happens to be in vogue at the time, perhaps a viewing of Mary Lambert's Pet Sematary Two is in order. Apparently, people didn't pay close enough attention to the message buried deep in the first cinematic outing, forcing Hollywood to take matters into their own mildly capable hands. Besides, Paramount Pictures isn't the type of company to take advantage of a global epidemic just so they can line their pockets with a few quarters and pennies, right?Am I right?After losing his mother to a horrifying accident on the set of her latest motion picture, brooding teenage pipsqueak Jeff Matthews (Edward Furlong) moves with his dorky father to the sleepy town of Ludlow to recover from their devastating loss. Our teenage hero soon befriends local fat kid Drew Gilbert (Jared Rushton), forming an almost immediate bond due to their mutual outsider status. Impossibly adorable? Not quite, sicko.After Drew's abusive stepfather Gus (Clancy Brown) plants a bullet into the hindquarters of his beloved childhood pet, the duo decide to bury the dog in the town's infamous pet sematary, a place where the dead are often brought back to life. Things quickly spiral out of control as the body count steadily increases, culminating in a grisly over-the-top showdown with a handful of resurrected individuals. Some people, it would seem, never learn.Pet Sematary Two, simply stated, is a retooled, refurbished rehash of the original film, though director Mary Lambert (Urban Legends: Bloody Mary) has bumped up the intensity of the on-screen terror to help drive her point-blank message into the hardest of movie-going heads. With professional celebrity zombies, resurrected puppies caught in hilarious situations on home video, and reanimated journalists clogging the American airwaves these days, we need more like-minded films to effect change within these United States, to educate and inform our clueless nation about the dangers of bringing the dead back to life.To assist her in accurately illustrating the underlying themes present throughout Pet Sematary Two, Lambert has crammed several thousand pounds of incredibly gory violence into the picture's briskly-paced 100 minutes. From power drills to axes, motorbikes to potato-covered car crashes, this squishy sequel spares no expense when it comes to giving you an uncut, no-holds-barred look at the deadly consequences of reckless resurrection. Sometimes it's very necessary to see the outcome of such behavior in order to fully grasp the gravity of the scenario. I'm moving forward with my plan to incorporate this film into the public school system sometime next week.And since the material is so timely and drop dead serious, everyone on-board approaches their respective roles with maturity and sincerity. Edward Furlong, despite being roughly 54 years-old at the time this film was lensed, nails the brooding angst associated with those unfortunate enough to have been teenagers in the early '90s. His character's father, portrayed by the immortal Anthony Edwards, embodies everything that is good and homely about small town veterinarians who moonlight as confused single parents. Clancy Brown, meanwhile, is suitably nasty as deranged Ludlow sheriff Gus Gilbert. The rest of the cast is effective, as well, though wholly unremarkable.The next time your best friend from high school suggests bringing his dearly departed grandmother back to life so he can collect on some unpaid birthday promises, immediately thrust a dusty copy of Mary Lambert's Pet Sematary Two into his greedy paws and prepare yourself for an all-night intervention. If everyone sits down with at least two people from their extended family to view this film in the comfort of their zombie-free abode, perhaps we can stem the tide before it overflows into our major metropolitan cities. Reeducate America immediately; buy, rent, or legally download a copy of Pet Sematary Two post-haste!The fate of the free world depends upon it!

T. Rigney was specifically designed for the mass consumption of B-grade cinema from around the world. His roughly translated thoughts and feelings can be found lurking suspiciously at The Film Fiend, Fatally Yours, and Film Threat. According to legend, his chaotic, child-like scribblings have cured cancer on fourteen different life-supporting planets.

B-Movie of the Week: Ninja Death II

T. Rigney — Thu, 28 Jun 2007 20:47:11 EDT

The impending death of analog television will inevitably claim the lives of the hundreds of low-power television stations sprinkled across this country like tiny red pimples on your bed-ridden grandfather's oversized posterior. WBLU in Lexington, Kentucky has already been seized by the same greedy corporation responsible for pumping Telemundo into the homes of countless illegal immigrants nationwide, leaving this spiffy little city without any independent television stations to speak of. Gone are the days of the midnight movie, the Sunday afternoon matinee, and my personal favorite, the indispensable kung fu theater.Ninja Death II, with a little editing to excise the pointless nudity and gratuitous sex, would have fit nicely within my former employer's cozy line-up of classic public domain comedies and Don "The Dragon" Wilson action vehicles. In fact, the majority of the titles found nesting inside Mill Creek Entertainment's incredible 50 Martial Arts Movie Pack would have been welcomed additions to our stable of ultra wonky celluloid. As a guy who discovered his untapped passion for B-grade cinema thanks to several locally-operated television stations, it saddens me to think that this cost-effective form of televised entertainment will gradually disappear once the world has collectively jacked into the digital arena.Thankfully, we still have films such as Ninja Death II to fall back on. The sequel to one of the craziest low-budget kung fu movies of all time picks up conveniently right where the first one left off. After relaying a few interesting tidbits of information regarding Tiger's storied past to his young student, the one known only as The Master clocks himself on the forehead and promptly drops dead. Devastated by the loss, our fearless hero begins training in the ways of Royal Kung Fu, a style which obviously requires lots of straining, flexing, and the occasional splash in a nearby stream. His new teacher -- a cranky blind chap with a sharp wit -- is on-hand to make sure Tiger doesn't screw things up.Lurking suspiciously behind the scenes is The Grand Master, a stylish fiend who begins to suspect that two of his minions are, in fact, aiding Tiger in his quest to destroy this sadistic sect of nimble ninjas. More importantly, this dastardly villain has recently misplaced his prized possession: a hulking masked madman who has been brainwashed to do The Grand Master's evil bidding. As secrets slowly begin to emerge from the woodwork, Tiger will be forced to use his considerable kung fu prowess to defeat a seemingly endless supply of sword-wielding warriors who are hellbent on his complete and utter destruction. And if he has time, he'll mindlessly rape a virgin. Yikes.The opening 30 minutes of Ninja Death II are nothing more than a quick overview of the first film, giving those who are unfamiliar with the storyline a chance to sink into the action with a bare minimum of head scratching. Of course, the plot soon twists itself into a tasteless food court pretzel, forcing those who weren't paying close attention to ponder aloud the sudden appearance of several new characters. And just when things are starting to really pick up, the film ends abruptly with the same silly sequence used to wrap up the first installment. It's lame, yes, but at least the anonymous filmmakers didn't expect you to swallow the whole thing in one sitting. How impossibly selfless and considerate!In terms of unstoppable action, Ninja Death II is surprisingly tame. There are a few interesting confrontations, I suppose, but nothing that equals the hilarity contained inside the first chapter of the series. You will, however, be subjected to creepy erotic encounters, the forced deflowering of a homely virgin, and lots of lingering shots of our hero's sweaty man-chest. If that sounds like an evening of family fun to you, by all means, have at it. Personally, the lack of outrageous action and quotable dialogue left me a tad disappointed. Here's hoping the insanity increases considerably in Ninja Death III. At this point, there's really nowhere to go but up.Ninja Death II isn't exactly the mind-blowing kung fu experience I was hoping it would be. The fight sequences are few and far between, the 30-minute flashback is a drag, and the uncomfortable sexual encounters are entirely pointless in the grand scheme of things. To be fair, Ninja Death did set the bar kind of high, leaving this puny sequel to languish in the realm of shattered expectations. If the Gods are accepting my poorly-worded prayer requests, Ninja Death III will return the franchise to its rightful place in the kooky kung fu universe. As it stands, I'm a little apprehensive about continuing my adventures with the childlike martial arts hero they call Tiger.I just hope he doesn't rape me in my sleep.

Movie Review: The Borrower

T. Rigney — Tue, 26 Jun 2007 17:07:40 EDT

Despite what countless law enforcement officials and psychiatric professionals have to say on the matter, I wholeheartedly believe that the Earth is an interplanetary dumping ground for convicted alien psychopaths. This theory would certainly help to explain the steady increase of worldwide insanity, from suicidal terrorist organizations to the stuffy white clowns currently churning out unconstitutional laws like so much rancid butter. Oh, and the next time you catch your kooky neighbor performing naked pagan rituals in his or her backyard, ask yourself the following question: Do all human beings come equipped with twenty-seven lactating nipples and fourteen sets of slimy genitalia?I think not, Mr. Psychological Expert.John McNaughton's cheesy 1991 sci-fi comedy The Borrower is the perfect cinematic representation of my daunting xenophobia, a breezy 90-minute burst of gory alien paranoia. Even if it fails to provide you and your twisted kin with an evening's worth of demented entertainment, the film should definitely help push sales of Rodney Amateau's The Garbage Pail Kids Movie through the proverbial roof. Assuming, of course, that someone is willing to give McNaughton's misunderstood gem a proper Region 1 DVD release. Come on, Warner Home Video! I know you can do it!When insectoid aliens need to quietly dispose of their unwanted serial killers, they simply transmutate these sadistic prisoners into hulking human beings and release them on the outskirts of New York City. However, the process used to conceal their extraterrestrial ancestry is an imperfect one, forcing these earthbound inmates to procure a new head whenever theirs happens to suddenly explode. Needless to say, the latest addition to the psychotic herd is having quite a few discouraging problems with his recently acquired craniums, issues which leave a large string of horribly disfigured bodies twitching in his wake. Only a seasoned female cop (Rae Dawn Chong) and her elderly partner can put an end to this creature's bloody reign of terror.McNaughton's decision to helm The Borrower as his follow-up to the harrowing Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer is an odd one, for sure. Perhaps the man needed a humorous project to thoroughly cleanse his palate of the nauseating atrocities sprinkled generously throughout his 1986 horror masterpiece. The Borrower, much to my giggling schoolgirl surprise, was much funnier than I had anticipated, extracting several nervous fits of genuine laughter from yours truly when most people would have run screaming for the STOP button. What can I say -- decapitations are pretty hilarious.However, since this is a John McNaughton picture, The Borrower has its fair share of uncomfortable graphic violence, most of which is aimed squarely at the Caucasian female population. The inclusion of a sexual predator subplot ultimately undermines the film's light-hearted tone, especially considering it adds up to nothing more than a few uneven scenes of needless cruelty and humiliation. It's almost as if McNaughton felt obligated to present something brutally shocking and oh so disturbing to prove to everyone that he hadn't gone soft. A simple suggestion for the inevitable Unrated Director's Cut Two-Disc Special Edition: Ditch the rapist, add more Tom Towles.Seriously.The cast, to the gasping delight of absolutely no one, is fairly basic. Rae Dawn Chong is the film's supposed lead, her latchkey performance careening wildly between simply tolerable and horribly melodramatic. In fact, the only people you'll really care about are Antonio Fargas and Tom Towles, though their combined screen time doesn't exactly runneth over. Again, the film could have been tightened considerably with the addition of more Towles/Fargas interaction and less touchy-feely moments of womanly melodrama.The Borrower is fun, not fantastic. I'm assuming its absence on DVD is due to an overall lack of interest from the movie-going public, though I'm willing to bet there are people not unlike myself who would surely appreciate a crisp, clean widescreen transfer. As a follow-up to Henry, it's surprisingly pedestrian and lackluster, a drastic step backwards for the talented director. Furthermore, the prospective viewer is visually assaulted with several icky moments of unnecessary violence towards women, all of which seem out of place in a picture featuring an alien who steals human heads to stay alive. Naturally, only a select few will enjoy something as flawed and inconsistent as The Borrower.And I'm willing to bet they're all from outer space.

Movie Review: Yesterday

T. Rigney — Fri, 22 Jun 2007 17:09:25 EDT

The deeper I dive into the Korean film industry, the more enthralled I become. For those curious parties who enjoy such mindless trivia, it was director Chan-wook Park's Vengeance trilogy that initially sparked my interest, encouraging yours truly to investigate such enigmatic titles as Save the Green Planet and Natural City, two pictures I simply cannot recommend enough. Korean films are quickly becoming one of my favorite film-oriented pastimes; even when they're watered down and overlong, these flicks still have the power to captivate.Take Yun-sun Jeon's 2002 crime drama Yesterday, for example. It reeks of cheap police procedural perfume, right down to the flashy camera work and fourteen cubic tons of pointless technobabble. Yet despite these oh so glaring faults, this highly-stylized feature still managed to suck me into its slick sci-fi universe with little to no effort whatsoever. Maybe I'm an easy sell, a mark for stateside distributors looking to make a few dollars off those who believe the Hollywood well has run dry. Frankly, I'd rather spend my precious free time with something flawed yet thoughtful than anything directed by the talentless Tim Story.Yesterday, stripped to the bare essentials, is the tale of genetic experimentation gone horribly awry and the effects of such scientific shenanigans on its unwilling participants. Years after a top secret research project ends in inevitable tragedy, the altered and angry specimens are on a jolly ol' killing spree in an attempt to draw out the individuals responsible for the whole unethical shebang. On tap to help prevent more grisly murders from taking place is heroic cop Seok (Seung-woo Kim), a man who continues to mourn the accidental shooting of his young son. Aiding him in his quest is a stable of adorable side characters, including Lost's Yoon-jin Kim in a throwaway role designed specifically for exposition and plot advancement.How incredibly convenient!Since Yesterday could easily be described as your typical suspense thriller, I'll refrain from revealing too many tasty details regarding the so-called plot. Just know that it unfolds not unlike a slightly undercooked episode of CSI: Miami -- you may want to adjust your expectations accordingly. The clunky twists and turns ultimately don't add to much more than a by-the-numbers pulp mystery, the kind of stuff usually reserved for cheap paperback novels and generic SciFi Channel original features. You'll have approximately 85% of this flick figured out by the 90 minute mark, I'm sure. I apologize in advance if I overestimated your intelligence. You looked smarter from this angle.Visually speaking, Yesterday is fairly sharp, save for a few iffy CGI effects used to flesh out the story's futuristic setting. Truth be told, the filmmakers could have easily done away with this aspect of the picture, especially since we don't spend too much time staring blankly at the skyline. It's more of a gimmick, really, a cheap thrill for those who demand more from their high-tech procedural dramas. Had the setting played an integral part in the narrative, perhaps this wouldn't have been an issue at all.The cast, spearheaded by Seung-woo Kim and Yoon-jin Kim, is decent enough, though I doubt you'll tune in to Yesterday for the breathtaking performances. Seung-woo is easily the strongest of the bunch, allowing you to connect with his character despite the fact we never really get a feel for who he is or what he's all about. Yoon-jin Kim, on the other hand, is surprisingly bland and somewhat miscast, a far cry from her recurring role on J.J. Abram's American television puzzler Lost. Underdeveloped and grossly underused, Yoon-jin spends the majority of the picture filling in plot holes and looking pitifully forlorn. The same can be said for Seon-a Kim, as well. What a shame.If you can look beyond its many glaring problems, you may find Yesterday to be a mildly entertaining sci-fi thriller, one that happens to suffer from extremely poor characterization and a few inexcusable pacing problems. As it stands, the film is overlong by about fifteen minutes or so, dragging needlessly when it should have been turning corners at breakneck speeds. Yun-sun Jeon's nifty flick is literally saturated in cheap Hollywood lip gloss, the kind of stuff used to conceal a lackluster script and a handful of dodgy performances from its otherwise competent cast. Those in search of something along the lines of Blade Runner or Dark City should definitely get their kicks elsewhere.This future, I'm afraid, is starting to spoil.

B-Movie of the Week: Ninja Death

T. Rigney — Thu, 21 Jun 2007 13:58:18 EDT

Bad kung fu movies are a great way to mindlessly burn away an otherwise gloomy afternoon. Few cinematic experiences can deliver the same kind of unbridled mirth obtained from witnessing a poorly dubbed martial arts movie, especially if the film in question is stuffed like your mother's Thanksgiving turkey with horrible dialogue, ridiculous fights, and a whorehouse teeming with every venereal disease known to mankind. One of the easiest ways to acquire such a picture is to say your prayers every night and to sacrifice the remains of your childhood pets to the all-knowing, God-like, dog-shaped figurine in the sky. Or so I've been told, anyway.I received the hopelessly obscure kung fu opus Ninja Death when I dropped several crisp American dollars for the Martial Arts 50 Movie Pack, a box set filled with some of the lamest and most hilariously awful kung fu flicks I've ever had the privilege of owning. It's a treasure trove for the bad cinema aficionado, a cheap cardboard container housing all sorts of questionable martial arts booty. You know you're just aching to purchase a copy for yourself, you impossibly randy bastard.The story concerns itself with a guy named Tiger and his misadventures while managing a small Chinese brothel teeming with exotic female companions. Naturally, life is as dandy as store bought candy for our mildly ridiculous hero, that is, until a group of shady Japanese characters open a bordello on the other end of town. And when I say shady Japanese characters, I mean ninjas. Nimble ninjas, the kind that wear solid black outfits and wield extremely sharp swords. Needless to say, the competition is deadly serious about providing incredible customer satisfaction at cutthroat prices.The ninjas, it would seem, are led by the mysterious Grand Master, a sinister fellow who is desperately searching for a man with a unique plum flower tattoo plastered prominently across his hairless chest. Tiger's mentor, a gentleman known only as "The Master," believes this new threat is linked to his pupil's storied past, prompting the old man to prepare his student for the battle to come. Once the obligatory training sequence is out of the way, Tiger and The Master are forced to contend with a number of bizarro enemies as their lives quickly spiral out of control. Can these two bumbling heroes stop the Grand Master from accomplishing his sadistic mission before the film ends abruptly?Since the epic Ninja Death saga has been broken into an easily digestible three-course meal, I've decided to approach each segment as an individual film. I also recommend that you do the same, allowing at least a 24-hour gestation period in between chapters. Why, you ask, should you wait one full day to continue this awe-inspiring narrative? Because, dear readers, consuming this life-altering kung fu extravaganza in one sitting could cause serious damage to basic bodily functions, including loss of eyesight, permanent erectile dysfunction, and a particularly nasty case of pink eye. You've been warned.With a name like Ninja Death, one should expect to find the following off-brand items peppered throughout the film: lots of ninjas and a considerable amount of death. Thankfully, the filmmakers -- who have kindly removed their names from the opening credits -- didn't skimp on the essentials, serving a generous portion of violent martial arts wizardry to those hungry for such fattening fare. The numerous fight sequences are suitably outlandish and appropriately cheesy, thanks in part to a cast of unbelievably kooky characters and their impressive arsenal of goofy ninja weaponry. The hulking brute in the devil mask is a personal favorite, a man designed specifically to appeal to the eight year-old boy lurking inside every moronic kung fu fan. It's okay -- I'm there for you.The most appealing aspect of this film, however, would be the English dub soundtrack. Midway through the picture, everyone develops a zany British accent, replacing the dodgy American-tinged voice work heard during the first action-packed thirty minutes. The transition is subtle, mind you, but you'll pick up on it sooner or later, I'm sure. The quality of the dub, of course, allows for a number of infinitely quotable moments, the kind of garbage you'll trade back and forth with your nifty MySpace pals for months to come. It's bad poetry in motion. Simply marvelous.Ninja Death is the ultimate martial arts party movie, an off-beat kung fu adventure overflowing with gratuitous violence, pointless nudity, uncomfortable sex scenes, bawdy humor, and lots of spiffy expletives. If the sequels are as genuinely absorbing as the first entry, yours truly will be a very, very happy camper lost in a forest filled with enormous psychedelic mushrooms. As it stands, Ninja Death is reason enough to drop a small wad of sweaty cash for Mill Creek Entertainment's satisfying Martial Arts 50 Movie Pack. It's a bad kung fu fan's dream come true. With ninjas.And death.

Movie Review: Gozu

T. Rigney — Tue, 19 Jun 2007 22:39:19 EDT

I'm not a very big fan of people who don't appreciate the genius of Takashi Miike. In fact, if you stopped me on the street to verbally express your utter distaste for the man's work, I may be inclined to violently pummel you about the head and neck until a very creamy steak sauce begins oozing profusely from your tattered nostrils. As a special service to your bereaved loved ones, I will thoughtfully drop a postcard in the mail detailing the whereabouts of your hideously battered corpse. As long as they don't mind searching Tokyo storm drains for your remains, I doubt they'll have much difficulty locating it.But, I digress.Miike's surreal 2003 effort Gozu is a tough nut to crack, even for someone as dedicated to all things Takashi as I am. Attempting to completely wrap your tender young brain around this freakish material is likely to cause plenty of unsightly mental stretch marks. So do take special care when allowing this Lynchian beast to lurch menacingly across your television screen. In fact, it might be in your best interest to accept everything at face value, since I seriously doubt Miike has buried some bizarre message within the inky black bowels of this truly warped Japanese masterpiece. Feel free to correct me if I'm wrong. Seriously.Gozu starts out innocently enough, focusing mainly on an up-and-coming yakuza named Minami (Hideki Sone) and his mission to deliver crazed loose cannon Ozaki (Sho Aikawa) to a specialized waste management yard in some far corner of the Japanese countryside. During an unexpected encounter with what Ozaki perceives to be a compact car specially designed for the elimination of the yakuza, our hero is forced to administer what most therapists would define as "tough love," a decision which ultimately claims the life of his best friend/mentor.Or does it?A short pit stop at a local diner results in Ozaki's eventual disappearance from the back seat of Minami's ultra spiffy convertible. Did someone spirit away the corpse when our hero was chowing down on some fine chicken custard, or is something a bit more sinister going down in this unusual little town? So begins Minami's descent into a nightmarish world filled with milky breasts, bizarre sexual reconfiguration, obsessive weather enthusiasts, and a flabby guy sporting a drooling cow's head. I'm sure there's a puzzle to be solved while viewing this highly original cinematic mind rape, but I'll be damned if I know what it is.While I'd like to think that I have a few tasty clues as to what, exactly, transpired over the course of these befuddling two hours, accurately conveying my half-baked theories may prove to be an impossible task. There's certainly a lot going on behind the scenes of Miike and screenwriter Sakichi Sato's (Ichi The Killer) creepy little world, most of which is completely lost on yours truly. I may be a little slow on the uptake, dear readers, but at least I'm secure enough to admit it.Metaphorically stuffing this flick into a pretty little box with a bright shiny label is definitely a challenge for those who enjoy such things. The best way I know to describe the content of this picture to someone completely unfamiliar with Miike's work would be to declare it a sci-fi gangster epic, with bizarre psycho-sexual undertones and plenty of unnerving imagery. And speaking of icky visuals, no matter how many times Takashi gleefully thrusts a juicy lactating breast into my flabbergasted maw, I'll simply never get used to it. I'm not kidding. I can handle a lot of disgusting crap, but this one always makes me uncomfortable. Yeesh.To help ease us gently into this foaming cup of high-grade nonsense, we have the insanely talented Hideki Sone (Yakuza Demon) and the always enjoyable Sho Aikawa (Dead or Alive, Tokyo Zombie) as our slightly warped tour guides. Aikawa is in top form as Ozaki, delivering an off-kilter performance that ranks among his best work. The man it seems, can do no wrong. Sone, meanwhile, keeps our feet planted firmly in what passes for reality in this twisted universe, even when things get entirely out of hand. The supporting cast is also razor sharp and pitch perfect, many of whom have appeared in Miike's other demented delicacies.Part Twin Peaks, part Cronenberg body horror, and part sketch comedy, Gozu is a true one-of-a-kind motion picture experience, which is something that simply cannot be said for the majority of movies I've watched recently. From the opening yakuza attack dog showdown to the jaw-dropping vaginal finale, you'd be very hard pressed to find anything remotely resembling this celluloid monstrosity anywhere in your local neighborhood video store. Miike, bending genres like cheap dollar store licorice, gently toys with your misshapen head before effectively splitting it open and visually ejaculating all over that blistered meat wad you call a brain. Besides the vastly superior Audition, Gozu is easily the auteur's most mature endeavor thus far.If you can overlook the leaky boobies, of course.

Movie Review: Three O'Clock High

T. Rigney — Mon, 18 Jun 2007 16:41:39 EDT

There are underrated movies, dear readers, and then there are underrated movies, the kind that for some inexplicable reason have nimbly avoided working their way into the modern pop culture vernacular. Naturally, some of these so-called "misunderstood films" are entirely worthless, supported only by a feverish group of Internet fanboys who think their taste in cinema is so much cooler than those who spend way too much time munching popcorn alone in darkened theaters on sunny Saturday afternoons. It's okay to dismiss these clowns with a wave of your hand, but rest assured they're laughing hysterically behind your back as you waddle away.Then there are films such as Phil Joanou's bizarre 1987 high school comedy Three O'Clock High, pictures that have been unfairly ignored by the public at large. And while you may initially consider tossing this admittedly pretentious review directly into the Fanboy Rant wastebasket on your wonky Windows Vista desktop, you simply cannot deny the fact that this truly underrated nerd fantasy remains an unheralded cinematic classic amongst those who worship blindly at the altar of John Hughes. Besides, Buddy Revell could literally mop the floor with John Bender any day of the work week.Recognize, punk.Casey Siemaszko stars as the hopelessly dopey Jerry Mitchell, school supply store manager and campus newspaper journalist extraordinaire. After waking up late to a buzzing alarm clock and an unexpected flat tire, Mitchell has the sneaking suspicion that it's just going to be one of those days. To further illustrate how bad a loser's luck can be during those tumultuous high school years, Jerry makes the unfortunate mistake of touching the intimidating Buddy Revell, a notoriously troubled student our hero is supposed to interview for the school paper.Deeply offended by this unwelcomed physical exchange, Buddy challenges poor Jerry to an old fashioned fist fight in the parking lot after school. Weak, wimpy, and thoroughly overwhelmed, Mitchell keeps his eyes glued to the clock as he desperately searches for a way to resolve this deadly situation without getting his lights permanently punched out. Students hoping for a typical melodramatic high school outing should report immediately to the principal's office.To those born during or after the decade of excess, Three O'Clock High may seem like a relic, one of those corny old movies your Devo-loving parents simply cannot get enough of. Everything about this film screams "I was made in 1987," be it the soundtrack, the clothes, or the hideously dated high school lingo. However, Richard Christian Matheson and Thomas E. Szollosi's super snazzy script has the rare ability to transcend generations if one can look past the awful hairstyles and the dodgy Tangerine Dream soundtrack. After all, brutal tales of bullies and their spineless victims are as ancient as that weird Jesus fellow and those trippy Romans guys. I read about them in a Holiday Inn once.Phil Joanou has a natural gift for generating substantial tension, the kind that gradually works itself into a frothy uproar by the third act. It's a tactic that serves the film quite well in the long run. Without that palpable suspense, Three O'Clock High would have shattered into thousands of bite-sized pieces by the hour mark. Hoping that Jerry somehow manages to overcome this life-threatening dilemma is what keeps you glued to tube for the duration, though I will say the destination is just as enjoyable as the journey.None of this goofy excitement would have been remotely possible, of course, had it not been for a pair of strong performances from victim Casey Siemaszko and bully Richard Tyson. Though pasty and whiny, Siemaszko manages to turn Jerry Mitchell into someone you can pull for, an anti-hero of sorts for the MMORPG-obsessed shut-ins of the world. Richard Tyson, on the other hand, has the distinct pleasure of portraying one of the greatest bullies in cinematic history. Smartly written and impeccably cast, Buddy Revell is the perfect Goliath to Jerry's David, an oddly intelligent fellow with an unhealthy predilection for physical violence. He may be the film's proverbial "bad guy," but he's certainly no villain.The next time your friends attempt to shove one of those John Hughes confections down your unwilling throat, lovingly suggest they feast their retro-cool retinas upon a neglected copy of Three O'Clock High. This sorely overlooked tale of bullies, victims, and documentary filmmakers is sure to please those who genuinely appreciate the silly cinema this strange little decade had to offer. Those who actually grew up during the excessive '80s will surely find several tender nuggets of mind-numbing nostalgia tucked thoughtfully within this thoroughly enjoyable 90-minute time waster. And on top of everything else, it teaches those savvy enough to seek it out a very important life lesson:Pain is temporary. Film is forever.

Movie Review: DOA: Dead or Alive

T. Rigney — Fri, 15 Jun 2007 14:06:40 EDT

What do you get when you mix action director Cory Yuen's kinetic style with Eric Roberts, Jamie Pressly, Kane Kosugi, that goober from Reba McEntire's oddly addicting sitcom, and a gaggle of wannabe martial artists in pretty little thongs?Why, you get something along the lines of DOA: Dead or Alive, of course! In case you're not into the whole nerd-addled video game scene, this snazzy yet impossibly retarded little flick is based on the pixilated franchise of the same name, which ultimately boils down to a series of tournament fights featuring lots of well-endowed beauties beating each other into glorious submission. You know you want to play it.Go on -- admit it.As your perverted mind can probably imagine, this cinematic adaptation isn't exactly a deep, meaningful experience you can share with your entire underdeveloped family. Though I'm not a fan of tournament movies by any means -- I can barely sit through Bloodsport -- DOA somehow managed to keep me watching until the very end. Since the story boils down to a handful of women with their own personal agendas venturing to some exotic island to throw-down with a cast of colorful characters, it definitely wasn't the plot that kept me intrigued. Imagine that.So was it the witty dialog that kept me glued to the screen? The deep characterization? Or perhaps it was the plethora of butt shots inspired by the randy source material? Sorry, Charlie. None of those. The only reason I decided to sally forth until the film's extravagant conclusion was due to the presence of Corey Yuen, an absurdist Hong Kong director who has kept me coming back for more since witnessing the outrageous stupidity contained within the Jet Li opus High Risk, also known as Meltdown here in the States. Yes, dear readers, I'm that kind of geek.Since the script is barely a paragraph long and the plot is lost at sea without hope of survival, the only thing you're here for is either the action or the ass, though you might be able to claim both on your 2007 tax returns next year. And while there are a jagged pieces of a story buried deep within the gloss -- something about a blonde thief and her bozo boyfriend scheming to steal the prize money, a vengeful princess looking for her brother, and a female wrestler desperate to prove her worth -- I'm almost positive you won't care too much about it. Trust me on this one.Yuen, in his infinite wisdom, has smartly sliced this picture down to the bare essentials. The whole things runs at a brisk 87 minutes, leaving little room for a full-blown narrative to live and breathe and take root. Which is good, I guess, considering an engaging storyline has never been the director's strong point. Yuen is much better at lensing stylishly choreographed fight sequences, and while it's not the director's strongest effort by any stretch of the imagination, DOA does showcase some lofty kung fu insanity that will surely those searching for a cheap visceral thrill. However, martial arts purists will probably balk at the constant use of wires and CGI, not to mention Yuen's decision to completely waste what could have been his ace in the hole.Which brings me to Kane Kosugi.This guy is a monster. I became an instant fan after experiencing the empty yet enjoyable action-packed thriller Blood Heat last year. In fact, DOA's most satisfying fight involves Kosugi's infiltration of Eric Roberts' techno-tinged headquarters, which finds the nimble fighter battling a series of hapless goons as he gradually works his way up a flight of stairs. It's no Tom Yum Goong, mind you, but it's still an impressive sequence nonetheless. It's a shame his screen time is so limited. Had he been born with sizable breasts and a tight round ass, I doubt this would have been an issue.To be fair, Jamie Pressly does have a few adrenaline-pumping moments of her own, especially during the film's grand finale which finds our adorable four kung fu cheerleaders battling that mildly deformed troll Eric Roberts, whose spiffy new age sunglasses grant him all of his adversary's abilities. Did I mention this movie is pretty stupid? I did? Well, it's a point that should be driven into your thick skull like a wooden stake; expecting anything worthwhile would just be silly. Of course, fans of Holly Valance, Sarah Carter, and Devon Aoki won't notice the lack of intelligence in the picture. More than likely, most people who investigate this title will have their hands full with other, er, things.All joking aside, DOA: Dead or Alive is a fun little flick, one that you'll probably kick yourself repeatedly for enjoying. Just try to stuff your preconceived notions in a cookie jar before sitting down with it and all should be right with the world. Seriously! As an action picture, it's occasionally fierce, sporadically funny, and thoroughly entertaining. As long as you can stomach a few dodgy scenes that require our juicy collection of eye candy -- both male and female -- to actually hold conversations with one another, I think you'll be surprised by how much you like it.And if your significant other starts running his or her mouth about the film's reliance on scantily-clad women fighting in the nude, in the rain, and with hardly anything covering their wobbly bits, just tell them that you're here for the kung fu, thank you very much. After all, we're here for the martial arts madness, right?Right?

Movie Review: Invasion USA

T. Rigney — Fri, 15 Jun 2007 00:10:09 EDT

Chuck Norris, it would seem, is America's leading brand of all-purpose pest control. Whether it be Russians, Chicago mobsters, diamond thieves, ninjas, or Satan himself, the bearded one's sizable feet of furious anger will ultimately make these glorious American streets safe from whatever threat happens to be skipping down the lane that day. More importantly, he'll achieve these seemingly impossible goals without the usual macho bravado associated with most unstoppable action heroes. What a swell guy! I think I'll invite him to my Wii party next week so I can personally thank him for keeping my capitalist ass safe and sound.Joseph Zito's 1985 right-wing fantasy epic Invasion USA is an excellent example of what Norris can accomplish when left to his own devices. Using an impressive array of weaponry to dispense his patented brand of vigilante justice, our lethal hero will take back our democratic streets from the hundreds of heavily-armed Russian thugs who have unexpectedly stormed our sandy shores. It's rather comforting to know that I live in a country where a single white man can stop an elite army of determined terrorists with nothing but a pair of Uzis, a bazooka, and his pretty little feet.Such pretty, pretty little feet...Chuck Norris stars as ex-federal agent/karate expert/alligator wrangler Matt Hunter, a man who seems quite content to spend the rest of his life with an armadillo in the middle of nowhere. When an old enemy by the name of Mikhail Rostov (Richard Lynch) decides to lead an all-out assault on the suburban streets of Miami, Florida, our bearded hero is called back into harm's way in order to save our sorry behinds from complete and utter destruction. With an enormous set of sweaty balls dangling furiously between his oh-so capable legs, can Hunter stop this legion of Russian thugs from turning America into a one enormous mass grave?Attempting to follow the so-called plot of Invasion USA shouldn't be a problem whatsoever. It's as basic and generic and pedestrian as they come, allowing even those with terminal stupidity to enjoy the proceedings without overexerting their shamefully limited intelligence. All you really need to know is that Chuck Norris is an unstoppable hairy killing machine with the uncanny ability to arrive precisely when a terrorist attack is about to occur. Unfortunately for everyone, he's only able to actually prevent half of them from ever taking place. Whoops.Where Invasion USA really shines like a shiny new cubic zirconia is in the good ol' action department. Watch in feverish rapture as Richard Lynch gleefully obliterates an entire suburban neighborhood with his trusty bazooka, a device which seems to have an endless supply of death-dealing ammunition. In fact, just about everyone listed in the opening credits is packing some sort of rocket-propelled weapon, Mr. Norris included. I don't know exactly when bazookas went out of style, but I'm hoping someone out there is willing to give them a cinematic resurrection within the next few years. I'll post the petition as soon as I find the time.As with most Golan-Globus productions, one shouldn't spend too much time thoroughly dissecting the performances. Richard Lynch seems to be having a blast with the material, delivering a thick layer of stinky faux Russian cheese that will leave you either mildly amused or deeply offended. Chuck Norris, on the other hand, wears one expression throughout the entire length of the picture. It's a look that reminds me of a very interesting documentary I saw the other night about severe constipation and its effect on various Hollywood celebrities. For the sake of his rectal future, I do hope he had that taken care of.And by the way, who decided to cast the talentless Melissa Prophet in this film, anyway? I kept waiting and waiting for her character to violently bite the dust, only to have my hopes dashed upon the rocks of woe when she survived until the oddly abrupt conclusion. Maybe someone will shoot her in the mouth the next time I watch it. Keep your fingers crossed!The very idea that these stupendous United States could be so easily invaded by a foreign terrorist organization is a frightening one, especially in this paranoid day and age. Invasion USA proves, if nothing else, that the American people shouldn't worry their pretty little heads about such stressful political scenarios. Why not, you ask? Because Chuck Norris is standing right outside your bedroom door, a pair of Uzis strapped to his suspenders and a shiny new bazooka leaning against his twitchy right leg. Should anyone decide to blow up your pricey suburban home, he'll be there to protect you.Just don't forget to water him, okay?

B-Movie of the Week: Mountaintop Motel Massacre

T. Rigney — Wed, 13 Jun 2007 03:50:10 EDT

The next time you decide to spend the night at one of those locally owned motels situated suspiciously in the middle of nowhere, be sure to check your room for the following items: poisonous snakes, flesh-eating rats, and an elaborate tunnel system created by the psychotic old lady who runs the joint. If your room contains one or more of the aforementioned items, run frantically through the surrounding woods until you stumble across someone who can help you locate the nearest redneck township. Heed my words, weary travelers!The obscure 1986 genre travelogue Mountaintop Motel Massacre is yet another putrid blemish on the mom & pop lodging industry, portraying these unfortunate business people as impossibly disturbed individuals with an insatiable lust for murder, madness, and mayhem. Using Alfred Hitchcock's masterpiece Psycho as a guideline, director Jim McCullough spreads his own unique hillbilly butter all over this painfully familiar slice of generic white bread. It's not the finest slab of cinema you'll ever pay money to witness, mind you, but it does manage to provide a rainy evening's worth of entertainment if you can overlook a set of wonky hand-crafted flaws.After accidentally filleting her daughter for stupidly experimenting with the dark arts, Mountaintop Motel manager Evelyn Chambers slowly begins to lose what's left of her deranged little mind. To help soothe the voices rattling around inside her skull, she torments the paying customers with a nasty selection of bugs, critters, and reptiles. These diabolical activities soon become an insufferable bore, forcing this grandmotherly nut job to exponentially increase her psychotic tendencies. Using a dusty series of underground passages to accomplish her lofty goals, Evelyn effectively slices and dices her way through the odd collection of guests who have made the questionable decision to spend the night at the motel. Can they band together and stop this crazy old woman before she kills again?Drenched in eerie atmosphere and scored with the noise scooped directly from a schizophrenic musician's nonsensical nightmare, Mountaintop Motel Massacre is a lot more interesting than it has any right to be. What passes for a story is basically an inbred redneck redux of Psycho, with a demented old lady in place of the immortal Anthony Perkins. Though the groundwork itself may seem very familiar to those who spend way too much time indoors, McCullough's execution of the material couldn't be more different. If you enjoy watching elderly people stumbling through narrow passageways, this flick was tailor-made just for you. Congratulations, loser!Since this film was released by the notoriously bland New World Pictures, one shouldn't expect earth-shattering performances from its cast of pasty white unknowns. Anna Chappel, Major Brock, and Bill Thurman are probably the best of the bunch, turning in respectable if somewhat limp performances in their respective roles. The rest of the cast, sadly, is either wooden, forgettable, or just plain awful. To be fair, this is a low-budget slasher from the 1980's -- expecting anything more is just silly. You know better than that, boy.A friendly word of advice to horror buffs searching for buckets of blood and guts: don't bother. The violence found scattered throughout Mountaintop Motel Massacre is decent, yes, but it's certainly not what you'd expect from this kind of brainless genre release. That said, some of the murders are surprisingly gruesome, powered by some competent special effects work from somebody named Drew Edward Hunter. Kudos to you, kind sir, for giving this otherwise mediocre flick a shred of valuable street cred.Jim McCullough's Mountaintop Motel Massacre is an oddity, and it should be approached as such. Expecting anything else would be an exercise in serious delusion. However, if you're someone who appreciates bizarre horror flicks from an era that seems to have an endless supply of them, perhaps this obscure outing is worth a look-see when there's nothing else to do with your spare time. Keep your expectations as low to the ground as possible, prepare yourself for some slower moments, and keep an eye on your tattered bathroom rug.Who knows what kind of elderly freaks are lurking just beneath your soiled linoleum?