Sayonara Cinema

ROBOCOP (1987) It is the late nineties in Detroit. Crime has reached an all-time high. The police, try as they might, are powerless to put a dent in the downward spiral of the city. OCP, a corporate conglomerate, who has recently taken charge over local law enforcement, takes the next step in an attempt to reclaim the city and puts into operation RoboCop, an experimental officer that uses the mind of recently killed officer Murphy and puts it into a hulking robotic body. RoboCop is sent out into the streets to clean it up, but when he comes face-to-face with the psychopathic criminals who executed him, it begins to fire up memories of his past. From RoboCop’s data crunching CPU comes the faces and dreams of Murphy, which were thought to be erased. As the rest of the police force goes on strike, RoboCop sets out on a one man war to put an end to the corruption that plagues Detroit.

Audiences were lured in to the theatres with the tag line “part man, part machine, all cop” and the expectation of highly-stylized violence. What they got was a cynical look, gingerly sprinkled with dark humor, at the future of America - a future littered with big business, unstoppable crime, complete corruption of the system, and shallow consumers eager to eat up whatever they were told to buy. Most successfully made movies will hint at what it will be about within the first five minutes of the movie. Director Paul Verhoeven, working from a script and story by first time writers Edward Neumeier and Michael Miner, chooses to spend his first five minutes watching television and in the boardroom of OCP.

Verhoeven, using a plot not unlike FRANKENSTEIN as a creation struggles to find independence and free thought for the backdrop, completely skewers the media here, as violence is sensationalized by an almost inhuman and completely unsympathetic broadcasters, and spoonfed in easy to digest sound and video bites. The plot is also moved along via interspersed news broadcasts of RoboCop’s exploits. And what news broadcast would be complete without commercials? Verhoeven takes time to look at products of the future, which includes an American car that proudly gets 8.2 MPG (”big is back!”) and the Battleship-esque game Nukem (”get them before they get you!”). What is truly frightening about this look into the future is that present-day television has far surpassed Verhoeven’s jaded take on it.

However, ROBOCOP does offer its viewers the base violence and gore that viewers eagerly expected from the hedonistic and blood-drenched action pictures of the 80’s. It is ironic that while the film condemns those attracted to violence it also serves up some of the most graphically grotesque effects to come out of the era. These were so graphic that ROBOCOP was threatened with an X unless it was trimmed. These now legendary shots, which include Murphy’s decimating murder by multiple shotguns wounds and a chillingly real bullet to the head, and the extended slaughter of a boardroom executive by the hulking robot ED-209, were almost completely erased during the film’s theatrical run. Whispers of these rumored full scenes floated through had to wait to be seen until home release on laserdisc and later on DVD courtesy of Criterion and currently MGM (pick up the current release at Amazon). And even after twenty years, these have hardly aged, thanks to the superior efforts of film’s special effects team.

It is this crew that also brings the heroic RoboCop to the screen, and what a fantastic job they do. In an age where a Commodore Amiga was used for digital effects, in-camera practical effects were what was needed to bring science-fiction to life. Created by wizard Rob Bottin, who previously worked on THE THING and would later go on to TOTAL RECALL and FIGHT CLUB among others, the RoboCop suit is a marvel to look at, and has a real-world functionality to it that does not seem that far-fetched. The results of his hard labor would land him several award nominations, and a win for special effects from the Academy Of Science Fiction, Fantasy and Horror Film.

But without the physical acting and presence of star Peter Weller, it is just a costume. Weller, who only spends about ten minutes of the film as a human, ties the entire world the film takes place in together. If he is not believable, everything else falls apart. Fortunately, Weller pulls off an amazing performance, evoking emotion, expression and thought process through gestures and facial expressions. When his face, which is cover for most of the film, is finally revealed, Weller turns his eyes into heartbreaking wells of sadness. He has been forced into this role, and must come to terms with what he has become.

The blending of science-fiction, graphic violence and social commentary would become a trademark of the Netherlands imported director, who was previously known only for his erotic outings in the 70’s, if he was known at all. The director even turned down this movie at first, only later reconsidering at the behest of his wife. It is strange to think where, if at all, the ROBOCOP phenomenon and even Verhoeven’s career would be had he not listened to her. Thankfully, the final outcome has left the world a thoroughly entertaining slice of cinema that is as relevant today in the middle of a media-obsessed culture with corporate-government hybrid running things as it was when first released in the midst of Reagan’s years. The more things change, the more they stay the same.

HOT FUZZ (2007) Nick Angel (Simon Pegg) is one of the best cops in all of London. He is so good that he makes the rest of his department look bad in comparison. His arrest rate is 400% higher than anyone else! So the higher ups do the only thing they can think of - promote him to sergeant and ship him off to work in Stanford, the safest village in all of England. Here, Angel soon discovers that life is on a slightly different path, where the biggest problems seem to be a recurring “living statue” performance artist and an escaped swan. Angel also discovers that the town, which hasn’t had a reported murder in over twenty years, does seem to have an abnormal amount of fatal accidents. Angel’s city-trained mind kicks into overdrive, as he works alongside his new partner Danny Butterman (Nick Frost) to put clues together that nobody sees. Angel’s linked clues leads him to Simon Skinner (ex-Bond, Timothy Dalton) a local grocery store owner who may just have a bit too much to gain from the recent “accidents” of four locals, but will the rest of his squad even listen?

Three years after the fan-favorite genre-bender SHAUN OF THE DEAD, the powerhouse trio of Wright/Pegg/Frost (as well as under-noted producer Nira Park), who’ve been linked ever since the brilliant British TV show Spaced, return for another tour-de-force of action, excitement, comedy, over-the-top gore, and more loving references than you could ever hope to catch. The team is on top of their game and prove once again that adding a British accent to anything make it just that much better! HOT FUZZ glides with an almost supernatural ease from city cop/village cop mismatched buddy comedy to horrific giallo thriller complete with black-gloved killer and finally to the action movie mode featuring tidbits from every action movie ever made. Ever.

This is no mere parody though, but in essence a living, breathing mass consciousness of the action genre as it has evolved over that past thirty odd years. It is brought into existence by the main group mentioned above, with a complete understanding of what the genre means, and with the enthusiasm of a twelve-year old lad who has not become jaded from seeing too many disappointments on the big screen and revels in the excitement of explosions and the fascination with characters that may be bigger than life but with a core that can be connected with. This twelve-year old ideology of action is literally brought to the screen via Frost’s somewhat dim and childish Danny, who not only asks just the right nudge-nudge-wink-wink questions to his new hero found in Pegg’s Angel, but has to show him via home screenings of POINT BREAK and BAD BOYS II just what he is. It serves as both subtle set-up to later scenes but also take care of the pre-requisite scene in which the hero is shown by the love interest that he has never lost his will to do what needs to be done.

Every hero of course needs a villain, and Angel’s main target of suspicion through the film is Simon Skinner, who is gleefully brought to the screen by Timothy Dalton. Dalton absolutely eat ups the opportunity to pop in and out as the is-he-or-isn’t-he the bad guy of the film. His wonderful quips throughout the film, courtesy of the Wright/Pegg screenplay, egg Angel on, almost begging him to catch him in the act of a crime. Skinner always seems to be just one step ahead of Angel, almost able to perceive what Angel will do next. Not only does Dalton relish in the motifs of the antagonist, but he is also given a henchmen, a hulking brute that has been spawned by cross-breeding Night Court’s Richard Moll, Lurch of The Addam’s Family (the character is even called Lurch) and MOONRAKER’s Jaws. If you need further proof for the love of all things “James”, Tommy McCook and the Supersonics’ “Down On Bond Street” get some action on the soundtrack.

Part of the fun of HOT FUZZ is seeing just how many different references can be caught. The greatest trick that the film pulls though, is that much like what SHAUN OF THE DEAD did with the zombie film and Spaced did with sit-coms, it metamorphoses into an honest-to-god action flick. People do not watch AIRPLANE! for the thrill of not knowing if the plane will make it. They do not watch SATURDAY THE 14th (thought I was going to say SCARY MOVIE, eh?) to be frightened. They do not watch ROBIN HOOD: MEN IN TIGHTS for period piece adventure and romance. They will watch this when they need an adrenaline rush. And that is what sets this apart from the others. And everybody on board this flick fuckin’ knows it.

13 TZAMETI (2005) Sebastien is a Georgian immigrant living in France and working as an smalltime contractor fixing houses to help his family make ends meet. When his employer dies of an overdose, Sebastien finds a mysterious envelope with a train ticket and hotel room receipt. Recalling an overheard conversation regarding a job that he employer was about to perform that would bring great wealth, Sebastien decides to take the journey himself. After following a series of strange phone calls and a breadcrumb-like trail, Sebastien is brought to a remote and rundown mansion in the woods. There, he discovers just what he has gotten himself into - a thirteen player game of Russian Roulette, with wealthy gamblers betting hundreds of thousands of Euros on who will live and who will die.

With cold and harsh brush strokes that only black and white cinema can conjure, debut director/writer Gela Babluani paints a bleak and uncaring world within France, where death is bet on by the soulless elite, and the poor and desperate willingly put their heads in the line of fire for a slim chance at becoming part of the upper crust. Not since LA HAINE has France felt so raw and desolate. Into this world he thrusts a young and naive man (played by the director’s brother, George), whose only thoughts are the well-being of his family. It makes Sebastien, who already is isolated due to his immigration status, just that more isolated, as he is the only character in the film that thinks about anyone other than themselves. George Sebastien, who makes his acting debut here, captures the viewer from the get go with his sheepishly shy performance.

Although the story focuses on Sebastien, Babluani’s world is inhabited with characters that are given a surprising amount of depth, given their brief screen time. This is a testament to both the director’s vision and the actors he has chosen to portray his creations. Though we are not given any background on them, it is quite easy to say that each one’s untold story that brings them into the mansion where the game is played would make just as equally as good a movie. There are those that bet and “endorse” the players, and the players themselves - among them being a grotesquely obese man and an overly aggressive man whose own brother is betting on him - that add some real human traits to a very inhuman game.

The actual game, which takes up only a small portion of the film, is obviously where Babluani puts most of his focus, and is the “shower scene” of the movie. Every angle and every second vitally important. The eyes of each contestant become the windows to their souls. Like the strike of noon on a clock tower in a western, a light bulb in the center of the circle is watched by twenty-six waiting eyes. Life is whittled down to a single moment as thirteen fingers pull thirteen triggers. Babluani gives a new definition to tension here, and the scenario is just dirty enough and grimy enough that the burning gunpowder can almost be tasted as the shots come ringing out of the speakers. Nick Chevotarevich might even wince watching the build up.

Many films should be seen knowing as little as possible about what you are about to see, and 13 TZAMETI (tzameti means thirteen in Georgian) is certainly no exception. In fact, the direct enjoyment of the film revolves crucially around going on the journey with Sebastien “blind”. Sadly, Palm Pictures, which released the film here in the US doesn’t think so, and uses DVD artwork that destroys the fragile and carefully pieced together rising tension and insecurity we feel with Sebastien. Make all attempts to avert seeing the cover. Your future self will thank me.

THE GRAVEDANCERS (2006) Three friends, Harris, Kira and Sid, are reunited after several years of lapse communication for a friend’s funeral. That evening, they return to the cemetery to say goodbye one last time. While heavily drinking, the trio begin to dance around the graves at the behest of a strange letter left on the tombstone calling for the living to live in the moment. But their midnight reveling takes a frightening turn, when all three begin to experience paranormal activity in their home. A local paranormal investigator begins an investigation, and soon discover that the three friends, along with Harris’ wife Allison, have become cursed by three vengeful spirits who have been brought back to the land of the living due to final resting places being desecrated. A clue hidden within the poem, The Gravedancers’ Lament, tells that the ghosts have one lunar cycle to lay their victim’s to rest. The group, who are now dealing with more severe hauntings every night, make a desperate attempt to stop the spirits in their tracks, but will it work?

In an modern age of supernatural skepticism, TV shows dealing with paranormal communicating, ghost hunting, and of course long-haired spirits from the Far East haunting cinema screens, it was bound to happen that a new successfully done and truly frightening American ghost story would materialize before us. Mike Mendez, along with first-time writers Brade Keene and Chris Skinner, conjure up such a story. Along for the ride are Dominic Purcell (TV’s Prison Break), Josie Maran (VAN HELSING), Clare Kramer (of TV’s Buffy The Vampire Slayer) and the second coolest imported Frenchman, Tcheky Karyo.

Scribes Keene and Skinner show their weaknesses early on in the film, as they set up the characters’ relationships and attempt to draw sympathy from the viewers. Their somewhat flat dialog, fails to fully enrapture the audience into caring for the main characters, but fortunately it is almost entirely dropped once the hauntings begin, save for a few down moments toward the end of the film. Within the story, the newly freed spirits grow in strength every day. So early on in the film, they are but invisible apparitions, and set up some of the best spook scenes of the movie. Doors creak open, water pipes make awful sounds and pianos play themselves. This is the stuff of classic haunted houses, and Mendez gives us several great setups to get the mood and atmosphere flowing.

As the ghosts grow more powerful, so do their abilities to frighten and attempt to murder the cursed trio. In turn, Mendez amps up the atmosphere, and sets up some new chills, which builds and leads to the final showdown in the mansion of the investigator. It is here that the ghosts finally have the strength to materialize and show themselves. These ghosts are twisted and evil, and their appearance is more so. Mendez opts for classic prosthetic make-up, and introduces his eternally lipless smiling apparitions from the dark corners of the halls. Of the three, the most time is spent on the female ghost, Emma, who floats just above the ground, dragging her toes, wielding an ax and starts whittling down the survivors. The other two, a sadistic and inhumanly strong old man, and a pint-sized pyromaniac terror, help to give some added and varied frights to the ax-swinging madwoman. The ending, which all-but eliminates that atmospheric shadows and reality-warping spectres, turns into some hybrid-spawn of EVIL DEAD II and POLTERGEIST, that goes for some cheap amusements rather than a truly diabolical stand-off it should be.

This was released in the theatres, and is now on DVD, as part of the 8 Films To Die For fright fest. There is nothing truly unique or new here, but still the energy and wave-length that everyone is on provide a solid production with great chilling and fun atmosphere perfect for a big bowl of popcorn and dim lighting. You’ll forget all about 1999’s pair of letdowns THE HAUNTING and HOUSE ON HAUNTED HILL if they still linger in your memory when the first bars of Chopin start floating through the air.

Buy It Now
On Amazon.com

DEAD MAN’S SHOES (2004) Richard has returned to a small North England town to exact revenge in the name of his mentally challenged brother, Anthony. His targets are small group of drug-pushers and half-wit drug dealers. Richard makes his presence known to his soon-to-be victims as soon as he gets into town, and makes it quite clear that he is not leaving. The group, who basically shit themselves when they all realize he is “Anthony’s brother”, make the rash decision that they’ll have to kill Richard. But Richard, who is cold, calculating and some military experience, waits patiently to make his next move as the lowlifes scrounge for weapons and something that resembles a plan.

Bad revenge thrillers are churned out the world over year after year. Most share a common thread of undeveloped characters, poor plot points and poor overall filmmaking. It takes a special breed though, to make a boring revenge thriller. Director Shane Meadows, working from a script by Paddy Considine, who plays Richard, is such a breed. Even taking into consideration the dramatic film styles of the UK, which generally take time to move the plot along and develop their characters, this is boring, boring, boring.

Meadows can’t decide here if he is making a horror flick, a character-study drama, a bumbling criminal comedy, or a psychological thriller. The film contains elements of all of these, yet fails to pull off any of them successfully. Scenes that should be suspenseful, where you are not sure where Richard is and if someone is about to be killed, come off as purely amateur. The film also spends way too much time with the criminals, watching them get stoned, fooling around, generally coming off as a bunch of harmless thugs. And any sense of pacing or build up is completely destroyed as the camera follows Richard walking… through fields… for minutes at a time.

The film unfolds as it spends time in the present and via flashback, showing what the petty dope addicts do to Anthony in Super-8 style grainy black and white footage. What we are shown for a majority of the film does not constitute the murder of seven people. Sure, they all deserved a major ass-kicking for what they did, but none of them deserved to die. And it is within this context that the film’s ending-twist should be able to be deciphered within the first twenty minutes of the movie by anyone that completely paying attention. The saving grace of the film could have been the death sequences, but even these are a let down. One would think that there’s going to be some intense bloodletting considering Richard’s choice of an army parka and gasmask as his outfit, but no, that is certainly not the case.

To his credit, Paddy Considine does a solid job portraying Richard. His attempt to channel DeNiro’s Travis Bickle or perhaps even the FIRST BLOOD version of John Rambo is successful, and certainly the scenes involving Considine are the best of the film. However, the rest of the cast, who shouldn’t have been allowed to rise above background work in Danny Boyle films, perform with so little conviction that Considine can’t help but look good when compared to them. And for anyone without a keen ear that can understand thick British accents, half of the dialog is lost in a jumbled mess. Some of the film’s more subtle (and probably key) revelations are missed because of this.

DEAD MAN’S SHOES had to potential to find greatness amongst the bleak and dreary cinema that Brits pull off so successfully. But in the end, Meadows didn’t just drop the ball, he had it in his hand and decided to throw it away. So don’t be fooled by the cool poster, don’t believe the unfathomable high rating on IMDB, and whatever you do just don’t bother.

Buy Dead Man’s Shoes
from Amazon.com

RABID (1977) When a young couple on a motorcycle are in a horrific crash, they are brought to the nearby plastic surgery hospital for emergency care. The local surgeon uses an experimental skin grafting procedure to help heal her wounds. After a month-long coma, Rose (porn star Marilyn Chambers) awakens to discover that she has an insatiable appetite for blood, which she draws from anyone who gets close to her via a penis-like growth which protrudes out of her armpit. Scared and confused, Rose races out into the night, hoping to find her way back to the city where she can be safe. But with each victim that she attacks, she creates a frothing-at-the-mouth psychotic monster, who in turn attacks and creates more mindless raging creatures. By the time Rose has made her way back to the city, she has unknowingly created an epidemic which as forced martial law on the entire area!

Everyone’s favorite gray-haired body-horror obsessed Canuck David Cronenberg is back with his second feature-length nightmare, with partial funding from the Canadian government and executive produced by Ivan Reitman. This time around sex and desire are once again the enemy, with elective plastic surgery and the price of human physical perfection via experimentation added to the list. Though predating the AIDS scare of the 1980s, this is none the less a cautionary tale about the dangers of unprotected physical contact with strangers, and a warning about the consequences of unnaturally altering the human body. A majority of the film takes place at a plastic surgery institute, whose overseers discuss creating a plastic surgery franchise. Cronenberg deals with this installation and its inhabitants with a pure disgust for those obsessed with human physical perfection.

Marilyn Chambers, the star and sensation of the 1972 porn classic BEHIND THE GREEN DOOR, shows off some solid acting chops here as Rose. Chambers’ natural, innocent and intoxicatingly attractive look plays an important part in making RABID work the way it does. She performs with a vulnerability and slightly-spacey look on her face for most of the picture, which allows the seedier characters to attempt to take advantage of her. The twist is that she is the most dangerous character in the film, carrying a virus that will destroy any who get close to her within hours. That she is unaffected by the virus herself makes her all the more deadly. She is not shy about shedding her clothes here either, and thus we as viewers are filled with lust and become victims ourselves. Chambers appears in almost every scene, and even with her limited filmography, is able to muster a performance that keeps the film held together.

Taking some cues from Romero’s 1973 film THE CRAZIES, this virus turns its victims into grotesque mouth-foaming, eye-bulging lunatics who bite and claw at others, and spread the disease. The effects, even with the films obvious low-budget, are handled with a professional touch. They are effective, shocking, and above all disturbingly real. Cronenberg’s takes another cue from Romero’s NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD, in which he keeps the viewer in the dark as to what exactly caused Rose’s body to mutate the way it did and thus creating this virus, though several characters attempt to explain it through out the movie. The film primarily revolves around Rose’s subjective view about what is happening to her, and since no one explains to her what is wrong with her, we as viewers are left in the dark as to the origin. It makes her character all that more frightening, and her experience all that more tragic.

Cronenberg’s writing and directing style here is icy and already masterfully distant considering his short career at the time. He comes in close, whether literally with the camera or figuratively with the dialog, only when he absolutely has to, as if disgusted by the human race, the individual subjects at hand, and what the species is capable of. Whether it is a man trying to take advantage of a frail young woman, a bandaged patient nonchalantly discussing how many times they’ve had plastic surgery done, or the military’s cold and calculating way of dealing with the epidemic through herding the masses like cattle and blindly executing anyone that has symptoms of the virus. It is a stance that Cronenberg has taken again and again over the years in almost every project he’s put his stamp on. Here in RABID though, it is particularly raw and unfiltered, and from the mind of an angry young man who sees the world a little differently than most, and wants those viewing to realize ugly truth about what we are, what we do, and where we are going.

THE FILMS

PLANET TERROR (2007) A chemical weapon has been unintentionally released on an unsuspecting town in Texas. Soon, citizen everywhere, once contaminated, start bubbling and decomposing at a rapid rate, and anyone is comes in contact with those already infected become hopelessly infected themselves. As the town completely turns on its head, a few survivors who have kept their cool and joined together to put an end to the epidemic travel from the local hospital, to a rundown shack with the best BBQ in Texas, and finally the abandoned military base, which isn’t so abandoned after all!

Robert Rodriguez, whose previous films would have easily found action-seeking audiences in the 1970’s, goes completely ballistic here, making no excuses, no apologies and holding nothing back as he unravels his over-the-top zombie tale. Rodriguez’ homage here pulls and pay tribute to the Italian zombie cycle of films - particularly Lucio Fulci’s ZOMBI 2 and CITY OF THE LIVING DEAD, Umberto Lenzi’s NIGHTMARE CITY and Bruno Mattei’s HELL OF THE LIVING DEAD - while still making a unique and new zombie film that will be enjoyed by gorehounds for years to come. Rodriguez really pores on the goo, yucks, blood n’ guts here and loves every minute of it! And as with all horror flicks of this nature, below the surface level is the prerequisite between-the-lines warning and stance against experimental weapons and the collapse of society.

All of the actors onboard, many of whom found their start in lower-budget horror films, play their parts to a “T”. Rose McGowan, as the long-legged go-go dancer Cherry Darling, is the main protagonist here and whose story we follow the most. Co-stars Freddy Rodriguez (of TV’s Six Feed Under) and Naveen Andrews (of TV’s Lost) get some good screen time in as well. Freddy Rodriguez in particular, who plays the mysterious Wray, gets to dish out some grin-inducing pain and destruction. Several surprise cameos (which will remain surprises here) round out an ensamble cast. It may be cliche, but everyone on screen looks like their having a blast doing what they’re doing, and commits themselves wholeheartedly to the story, no matter how ludicrous it gets. And when you consider “the gun”, which comes into play in the final act, it gets pretty damn ludicrous.

Rodriguez makes a welcome return to horror here after his last foray with THE FACULTY, and is a welcome dish of splatterfest fun that even at its grisliest is still somehow quaint when compared to contemporary torture-horror. But quaint is by no means cute, as several scenes will have some of the weaker-willed and unprepared feeling a bit of bile in the back of their throats, and girlfriends everywhere will have their faces buried in their uncontrollably-smiling boyfriends’ shoulders.

DEATH PROOF (2007) Stuntman Mike (Kurt Fuckin’ Russell) is a psychopathic car driver with a devilish grin, a soft-spoken voice, and a grudge against groups of cute girls. In a small Austin bar, Mike starts talking with a local radio DJ and her friends, who are not quite sure what to make of him. After a night of drinking, the women go on their way, with Stuntman Mike in his 100% death proof Chevy Nova ghost riding behind them, waiting for the time to strike. Stuntman Mike then finds himself in Tennessee, where his next targeted victims, are joy-riding around in an equally powerful muscle car. But when Mike goes in for the kill, he is unprepared for the equally wild woman behind the wheel and her two friends.

Quentin Tarantino brings the world another dialog-heavy conversation film here, this time dealing with two groups of female friends dishing out lines dealing with old films, obscure music (Tarantino once again puts together one hell of a soundtrack), and relationship troubles. This time around though, there are no quirky one-liners or phrases that will instantly be injected into the American lexicon, but it flows much more naturally within the context of the characters. Tarantino’s camera is always moving slowly and fluidly around the conversation sequences, giving the eye something to keep occupied while the ear listens.

During the two main action sequences, though, things really kick into gear. Tarantino has definitely done his care chase homework here, using lots of car-hugging angles and low-riding shots to really put you into the scenes. Everything was shot using real cars and real stunt work, which is certainly a breath of fresh air in the age of CGI races that look like they’ve been pulled out of the latest Need For Speed video game. The final sequence, which must last a solid ten minutes, is awe-inspiring, death-defying movie-making, and features stuntwoman Zoe Bell riding on the hood of a car the entire time, and two cars slowly demolishing each other with each metal-on-metal crunch.

DEATH PROOF, unfortunately, is a bit uneven, due to the sudden start-stop flow from a conversation around a diner table to an adrenaline pumping car chase. Imagine splicing the chase sequence from BULLITT into the middle of a Gilmore Girls episode. You should get the idea. At the end of it all though, this is pure Tarantino, and if it were not released as part of GRINDHOUSE, it would not be hailed as a 70’s style throwback, it would simply be the next Tarantino movie.

THE TRAILERS

Like any double feature worth its weight, this one delivers trailers for four non-existent movies packed between the two main films. Rodriguez brings us MACHETE, a story about a double-crossed Mexican assassin. Next up is Rob Zombie’s WEREWOLF WOMEN OF THE SS, a nazi exploitation flick that gives a much-need edge of sleaze the experience. Edgar Wright delivers DON’T, about the killings in an old mansion. Finally Eli Roth serves up THANKSGIVING, dealing with a black-clad killer slaughtering away on the holiday. All four of these fall into the “they don’t make them like this anymore” category, and the MPAA would most likely shit a brick before approving these trailers. Rumors are currently circulating that MACHETE may wind up actually being made, and the rest of these faux films would easily find their viewers if they ever say the light of day.

THE FEEL

In order to complete the grindhouse timewarp, both movies, the fake trailers, and the cue cards are all digitally scratched, scraped, smudged and beat to hell. Rodriguez goes a little overboard during PLANET TERROR, and may become more a distraction than an addition for anyone who has forgotten the time before all movies were perfectly printed and digitally projected in THX certified theatres. DEATH PROOF is a little more restrained, but Tarantino does a neat trick by poorly “splicing” each reel together, which causes the screen go blue and the sound to go out of sync for a few seconds. The classic cue cards announcing the “coming attractions” and “feature presentation” and the cute cartoons bits warning these films are for “restricted audiences” keeps the mood going. The only thing that could have improved the experience were if they bussed in real derelicts and hookers to hang out in the theatre, or if they purposely poured soda on the floor.

It is obviously clear that everyone involved is in love with a by-gone era of sleaze and trash being shown on the screen, and all-but-extinct experience of “surviving” a trip to the local rundown movie theatre. This is what going to the movies should be like, and perhaps this will reawaken a monster which has grown dormant in all of us that demands that a trip to the movies is a fun and unique experience that can only be had by going to the actual theatre. If you can just let yourself go, this will probably be the most enjoyable three-hour stretch at the movies this year. Just be sure to see it with as little knowledge of what is about to unfold as possible.

SHALL WE DANCE? (1996) Sugiyama (Koji Yakusho, who may be recognized from his many roles in Kyoshi Kurasawa’s recent horror films) is a salaryman who is dedicated to the ideals of Japanese society - career, family, material wealth - even at the cost of his own happiness. Every evening during his long commute, he sees a woman staring out a window of a dance studio. He feels drawn to her, and eventually makes the fateful decision to go to the dance studio.

Sugiyama, while devoted to his wife and daughter, feels a pull to meet Mai. And while at first his only intention was to see her, Sugiyama slowly succumbs to the joys of dancing. But Sugiyama is ashamed of his newfound love and hobby, and keeps it secret from his family and co-workers, save for Aoki, who he discovers is also a student at the studio. As an amateur dance competition grows near, Sugiyama doubles his efforts to perfect his steps in order to compete. The joy he finds in dancing helps Mai, who has become jaded to dancing to rediscover her passion for the art form as well. Meanwhile, Sugiyama’s wife, who has noticed Sugiyama’s aura of happiness, believes he is having an affair, and turns to an investigator to follow him.

Japan is a very morally and socially conservative nation, despite the opposite inclinations their entertainment exports may exude. Even social dancing, which is their catch-all term for ballroom and modern dance styles, is looked upon with distaste, and is believed to only be a hunting ground for lechers and perverts. Within the context of the film, social dancing becomes the stand-in variable for all activities and hobbies in Japan that are seen as less-than-fitting for the common Japanese man.

The common Japanese man. Here, the character Sugiyama practically embodies all of modern Japan and more importantly is a dissection of the salaryman (a term bestowed upon the rat-racing middle-management white-collar worker) who does everything that he is supposed and expected to do. Deviation from his strict daily routines are not tolerated and even personal enjoyment is basically out of the question. When he discovers dancing, he must hide this very personal part of him, while still dedicating himself to the learned steps and styles, as if it were an important skill.

Despite the social context that drifts along the entire storyline throughout the picture, at its heart it is a comedy, and goes to great lengths to keep a smile on your face. The supporting characters, who much like Sugiyama go through their own dynamic transitions in discovering themselves, provide some fantastic comedic moments. At the forefront of these is Aoki, Sugiyama’s co-worker who also dances with him. He is obsessed with Latin style dancing, and can only dance when he has a chin-length wavy wig covering his otherwise shaved head. Much like Samson, he is powerless without his hair. Aoki also provides some philosophical advice and thoughts on what dancing means, which helps Sugiyama truly appreciate what he has discovered.

Masayuki Sao, the director and writer of the movie, treats his film very much like a long dance number accompanied by multi-tempo song. There are quick-steps, long sweeping movements, a climactic build-up, and a drawn out denouement . Sao’s camerawork is very fluid and always seems to be moving around the action, pausing just enough to note the “dance move” just performed before moving on to the next. The entire production seems to be a very personal piece, drawn as much from Japanese culture in general as much as he draws from his own personal views of modern Japan.

Although the full version of the film which runs 136 minutes (there is an shortened version provided by Miramax, of course) may seem a little long and slow-paced for American audiences, Japanese audiences fully embraced this made-for-television film upon its broadcast. Critics also praised the movie, and it wound up completely dominating the Japanese Academy Awards in 1997, taking home all of the major categories with fourteen wins in all! It is really a wonderful film that much like a musical piece can be interpreted and examined in several ways based on the individual’s experiences, and enjoyed by anyone with a melody in their heart that they must dance to.

PUMP UP THE VOLUME (1990) By day new-in-town Mark is a reclusive high school student with no friends and even less social skills. But by night, hidden behind a microphone on his pirate radio station he runs out of his bedroom, Mark becomes Hard Harry, a voice for the town’s angst-filled youth. His take-no-prisoners attitude stirs up his fellow classmates, who in turn begin to stand up against the authoritarian rule of the principle, who has been expelling students right and left in order to secretly build up the school’s test scores to get more funding. Mark, who only wanted to reach out via the airwaves to be heard, soon finds himself way over his head as school officials close in on him and the FCC comes to town in order to stop his pirate broadcasting. But as Hard Harry, he knows that he must follow through to the bitter end to finish what he started.

On the heels of the Reagan years and an era that spurned some brilliantly angry voices and music, comes this rallying call for the voiceless to stand up and really make themselves known. This is one of those right-time-right-place movies that really captured the uneasy and unaccepted feelings that were flowing through the tail-end of the official Gen-X revolution. Christian Slater, who the year before won over girls’ hearts everywhere as a psychopathic teen in HEATHERS, takes on his first top-starring role here and completely nails the character. Though his devilish looks makes it just a tad hard to swallow that his character would not be instantly accepted within the ranks, his transformation into the introverted Mark more than makes up for it.

Slater’s supporting cast makes the movie very easy to feel like you are a fly on the wall of the high school. These actors look the part and great attention is given to making a cross-section of high school life. These characters are given just enough screen time that they breakaway from being stereotypes in the background to real kids who happen to be geeks, brains, punks, jocks, and princesses. Mark’s parents, as well as the some of the supporting cast’s parents, are given enough screen time to present them as mostly well meaning but clueless as to what their offspring are going through. Mark’s angry rants, which come off somewhat as junior-league Denis Leary monologues, are certainly passionate, if not a little misguided. But hey that’s hormones for you. Older viewers may find that Mark’s words bring up faded memories of years gone by. Today’s youth, however, may not be able to identify with it (you tell me). This is after all the voice of a previous generation of teenagers.

Pairing perfectly with the angry vocal undertones of the film lies an even angrier soundtrack. Leonard Cohen’s dismally depressing yet thoroughly brilliant “Everybody Knows” plays as the central theme song to the movie, playing several times during throughout. College radio heroes The Pixies, Soundgarden and Sonic Youth lend their fully distorted guitar work, while the Bad Brains team up with Henry Rollins for an growling cover of MC5’s “Kick Out The Jams”.

Director and writer Allan Moyle, who would later give angry youth a bubble-gum makeover with EMPIRE RECORDS, does a pretty solid job of capturing the murmur of his subjects. Not since perhaps FAST TIME AT RIDGEMONT HIGH has high school seems so real on screen. (Both of course would be trumped by the criminally short-lived television show My So-Called Life). Moyle’s direction is subtle, and his cinematic angles and choices give the feeling that the camera was just left on and recorded these scenes as they naturally happened. Only briefly does the film betray these notions as it turns to an almost hyper-reality, whose only purposes are to move the story to an end point.

At the end of the day, PUMP UP THE VOLUME has but one universal message that will always be true - everyone has a voice and everyone deserves to be heard and listened to. In today’s age, with massive digital peer communities and more ways to communicate than ever needed, getting your voice heard only takes a few strokes at the keyboard, a few button pushes on a blackberry or a cheap webcam. But with millions of voices shouting at once, the easier it is to be heard, the harder it becomes. Amongst those millions are a few voices that are “talking hard” and struggling to make a difference. Mark, where ever his character is today, would be proud, and is probably broadcasting on some remote website as we speak.

STRIP NUDE FOR YOUR KILLER (1975) When a fashion model dies during an abortion, it sparks a series of murders that are all connected to the modeling agency she worked for. As the models drop like flies in grisly deaths by a mysterious killer dressed in a leather jumpsuit and motorcycle helmet, those remaining alive become the key suspects by the police who are unable to crack the clues left behind. The key suspect becomes Carlo, a hot-tempered photographer who would rather keep vital information to himself and try to solve the case himself, even if it means putting his lover Magda and his boss in mortal danger of becoming the next nude body to be found.

Director Andrea Bianchi, who would later gain horror notoriety as the director of the zombie shocker THE NIGHTS OF TERROR, sets the mood right away for the sleaze-drenched giallo. His opening credit sequence, a grainy night time drive through Italy’s neon lit sex and crime riddled streets (think TAXI DRIVER’s opening) with a soft and jazzy score, instantly gets you in the right frame of mind. The film’s title doesn’t hurt either. He takes full advantage of the giallo cliches and themes that had been established during the past five years or so - utilizing killer POV shots, a swirling and baffling plotline that will remain a mystery until the final reel, and of course copious amounts of gratuitous nudity from practically the entire cast.

Bianchi, who also wrote the story, sets up his murder sequences with a relishing delight using false scares and shocks before getting to the true blood-spraying final blow. The effect is a great success, keeping a high level of suspense for the viewer, who never knows if the next swoosh of the camera lenses will bring the relieving view of an innocent face or a close up of a shiny black helmet as a blade plunges into flesh. Bianchi doesn’t shy away from the red stuff here. He know what his core audience wants and delivers in spades. Though the blood is brightly colored (and obviously fake) it doesn’t take away from the demise of the victims, and the over abundance of arterial sprays helps to make up for the inaccurate color.

At the other end of the spectrum of murder sequences in a picture like this is the aforementioned gratuitous nude and borderline soft/hardcore sex scenes. Italian sexpot Edwige Fenech leads the fray here, showing off what she has in practically every scene she’s in. This is classic Euro-sex trash - the women are curvy, natural, and sexy, and sporting the undeniable 70’s burning bush, while the men are tanned, greasy, and showing off a suave sex appeal that is both repulsive and irresistible at the same time, which can only be properly obtained by Europeans. Set decoration, which will put you in a time warp to a distant world of high contrast colors, impractical lighting, and impossibly impractical furniture adds to the world the film takes place in. Ikea would be wise to take a few pointers from this era of cinema.

This film is definitely not for everyone to say the least, but if you’ve made it this far in the review, it may be something you need to at least rent and witness for yourself. Hell, after a set up like that you may even be compelled to seek this out! Although in poor taste bordering on trash, the film never submits itself to being nasty or vicious, and never once takes itself seriously. And while the victims in death may be the female characters, the male characters are equally victims of the women in life. Plus with the over-the-top style and ludicrous storyline, it even slips into the realm of camp (especially when dealing with the English dubbing) when compared to today’s quite grisly flicks. Packaging gore, sex, mystery thrills, red herrings, and lowbrow comedy, it is a sampler platter of all that the genre had to offer and what was regularly on display in the heyday of 42nd Street’s less-then-upscale theatres.