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Planet of the Apes (2001)
you'll love it or hate it
Despite many of the earlier comments here, the 2001-model "Planet of the Apes" is very much a Tim Burton movie. If you liked his earlier material, you ought to love this one. All of his usual trademarks are here; wild visuals, freaky settings, great music (courtesy of a slightly-more-restrained-than-usual Danny Elfman), and a sense of atmosphere that borrows from Art Deco, old vampire movies, and a few spectacularly bad acid trips. Of course, his OTHER trademarks are here, too: Minimal (or No) attention to telling a coherent story, one-dimensional characterizations (usually excepting the main character), and undeveloped themes. If you think about it, he hasn't really told a solid story with a beginning, middle, and end since "Pee-Wee's Big Adventure" back in 1985! If you're a Burton fan (like me), you've overlooked these weaknesses in his earlier gems like "Edward Scissorhands," "Batman," and "Beetlejuice." And I predict that you'll do so again when you see his newest creation.
However, if you're not willing to play ball Burton's way, you'll probably hate this with a passion. SPOILERS FOLLOW!
There are more holes in the plot than there are in every other movie you've ever seen combined. (How did Davidson travel from Saturn to Earth so quickly at the end? And in a tiny ship that's apparently built for traveling short distances? And can't possibly have been designed to survive atmospheric entry? Why did everyone who went through the Magnetic field end up in vastly different time periods, while the Planet was always in the same place in its orbit? Doesn't it move? Or does the field move with it? And where did the horses come from? Maybe they were on the ship too? As part of another set of ill-defined experiments?). But these plot problems didn't bother me any more than the origin of the ice blocks that Edward Scissorhands kept in his castle, or the way that Vicky Vale's camera magically appeared every time she needed it. As I said, you can either overlook Burton's lack of attention to the plot, or not.
Character developments and motivations are all over the place. Much of the dialogue is cringe-inducing. The only actors who give memorable performances are in the ape costumes (Tim Roth, Helena Bonham-Carter, Michael Clarke-Duncan, and Paul Giamatti in particular); the human characters seemed to be a distant afterthought, almost as if Burton wanted to make a movie with an all-ape cast, then decided much later that it couldn't work. Mark Wahlberg, brilliant in "Boogie Nights" and "Three Kings," seems out of his element here. He doesn't exactly do a bad job, he just seems unclear on what his character is supposed to be doing. The script doesn't even give him a single moment of surprise when he first sees talking apes and the cities they've built.
And you'll either love the ending or hate it. I thought it was great, even if it didn't make much sense.
Marked for Death (1990)
guiltiest of the guiltiest pleasures
This review contains spoilers, but if you really plan on following the plot that closely, you're watching the wrong movie.
I have admit that I'm not much of a Steven Seagal fan, having been exposed to Bruce Lee, Jackie Chan, Jet Li, etc., before checking this guy out in detail. Despite all the comments about his lack of acting ability, I really don't think he's that bad. It would be interesting to see him take on a very different role, particularly if he played a villain; I always thought he'd be perfect in a James Bond movie as the Obligatory Super-Strong Henchman (like Jaws or Oddjob) that 007 takes on at the end.
I suppose the biggest shortcoming in his movies is the fight sequences, but it's not really his fault; His Aikido is marvelous, but pure Aikido simply doesn't translate to the screen as well as many other martial art forms. Aikido is a strictly defensive style, which means that there are no attacks, kicks, punches, etc. The only actions are in response to someone else's attacks; this is why Seagal's opponents are always so absurdly persistent; would YOU keep getting up and trying to hit him if he threw you halfway across the room every time you moved? Unfortunately, perhaps to compensate for Aikido's cinematic shortcomings (for lack of a better word), the violence is always amplified beyond any reason; I studied Aikido for several years, and we never learned to break a guy's arm like a Twix bar or gouge someone's eyes out with our thumbs.
I have a strong feeling that Sensei Morehei Uchiba (the founder of Aikido, who can be seen in the old documentary footage that opens "Above the Law") would strongly disapprove of these tactics, and I wonder if Seagal, being an acknowledged Aikido master, worries that he's giving his form an undeserved reputation for sadistic brutality. But back to this movie...
It's actually not bad by Seagal standards. He's playing his usual Zen-supercop character, gruesomely dispatching anyone who messes with him, then going back home to bond with old friends and family, perhaps to prove that underneath the anger and violence, he's really just a nice guy. He runs afoul of some wacked-out Jamaican crackheads who have him, well, Marked for Death. They're led by Screwface, a scary Rastaman who has magical voodoo powers and is one of Seagal's more worthy adversaries. Much mayhem ensues, including a goofy excursion to Jamaica that makes some weak attempts at social commentary about something or other; this is sandwiched between two fight scenes that showcase Steve's arm-breaking, vasectomizing, and decapitating skills. There's also a silly twist ending that only occurs so that we can see Screwface suffer two hideous deaths instead of only one. The climactic battle is actually one of the more successful fight scenes in the Seagal ouevre, in that Screwface knows how to use a sword, and actually gets a few minor shots in, before Seagal beats him by utilizing THE dirtiest move I've ever seen in ANY martial-arts movie. Again, a major shortcoming of this movie, and all of Seagal's movies, is that there is never a single moment when he appears to be in any danger. I mean, even Bruce Lee got kicked around a bit in his movies. When Seagal's unarmed and facing half a dozen guys armed with machine guns, you just know that he's going to walk away without a scratch, and the only question is which opponent will be dispatched in the cruelest way. This is no way to build tension, and it makes for a boring fight sequence when it's so one-sided. Unfortunately, this is a problem that occurs in every movie he's ever made.
Lara Croft: Tomb Raider (2001)
little fluffy clouds
This is the perfect movie for a hot summer day when it's over 90 degrees outside and you just need to sit in an air-conditioned theater and turn yer brains off for a few hours. A word of advice: don't go in to see a movie based on a video game and expect to see Shakespeare.
The comparisons to Indiana Jones are a bit off; Spielberg, Lucas, and company were starting with a blank slate. If Indy had been a character in a video game first, they'd have looked ridiculous trying to flesh him out into a real person. I think the makers of this fine product made a wise decision in leaving Lara Croft one-dimensional (excepting her lips and chestal area).
Angelina Jolie works wonders with the limited material here, and brings more energy to the action scenes than any woman this side of Hong Kong. Jon Voight lends some dignity to the proceedings, and unlike some viewers here, I found both his and Jolie's Brit accents acceptable. Chris Barrie (the hologram-guy from TV's "Red Dwarf") has some fun moments as Lara's prissy butler, and the rest of the cast does a good job of looking like they're straight out of a video game.
The special effects are decent, especially the six-armed sword monster (too bad its appearance is rather short). The scenery in Cambodia and Iceland is stunning and probably belongs in a better movie than this one. The action sequences are nothing we haven't seen before, and if you get antsy, you can pass the time figuring out where they borrowed each shot from. I spotted lifts from John Woo, Quentin Tarantino, Jackie Chan, and even a few bits of good old Indy.
The Illuminati appear somewhere in the nonsense, and I'm wondering where the writers came up with the material on them. No matter where they show up, they're always depicted as old European aristocrats and they always use the scary-pyramid-with-the-eye from the back of the dollar bill as their symbol. Just once I'd like to see the super-secret evil society that rules the world portrayed as a bunch of blue-collar guys from Nebraska. Please?
Anyway, get out of the heat for a few hours, lower your cinematic expectations, turn your brain off, and enjoy. Shakespeare will still be there when you get out.
Shivers (1975)
bad but fascinating
If nothing else, this film offers proof that the brilliant and sick director David Cronenberg wasn't always brilliant, but he sure was sick from the get-go. This low-budget classic is awash in bad acting, awful dialogue, poor visual effects, and Ed Woodian continuity errors (a doctor is eating a pickle; he takes one bite, and by the time he takes a second bite, another doctor has met with several patients and a businessman has gone to and from his office). The appearance of the parasitic creatures is particularly amusing (but probably not on purpose).
What's astonishing is that, despite all the plot holes, technical problems, and general unintentional hilarity, Cronenberg manages to sneak in a few truly disturbing moments that rival anything he'd do later. The opening slide-show with its unnaturally chipper voice-over is chilling, vaguely recalling "The Shining" and "The Stepford Wives" (neither of which were made yet). Lynn Lowry's monologue about "the flesh" (a recurring Cronenberg theme, whatever it means) is extraordinarily creepy. The Cronenberg feel can be felt throughout: basically, the contrast of a shiny, high-tech surface with an unspeakably nasty primal evil lurking just underneath. Many scenes go on for too long, but this would become a big part of his style; keeping the cameras running long after most directors would have cut away from the gore and weirdness. And how can you completely hate a movie that ends with Montreal being destroyed in a mindless orgy of sex and violence?
Cobra (1986)
it's either very disturbing or else just very bad
Ok, forget about the nonsensical plot, the unimaginative action scenes, the strangely low-budget look (considering it was actually a big-budget Stallone vehicle), and the awful acting (check out the "Alien Bounty Hunter" from the X-Files as the Night Slasher), and think about the subtext of this magnificent film. The "regular" cops are a bunch of incompetent bureaucrats who are powerless against the forces of evil, contrasted with Sly the Pariah Supercop, who ignores all the rules (usually the same ones he claims to represent) and believes that once someone breaks a law, they tacitly waive all of their basic rights and may find themselves tried, sentenced, and executed on the spot. Of course, in the world this movie is set in, only an ultra-right-wing neo-fascist stormtrooper can get anything done. Ouch.
There's part of that would like to see the sequel that was supposed to happen but didn't. They could have cast either Mickey Rourke or Steven Seagal as the bad guy and staged a mumbling contest for the climax.
Enjoy this priceless artifact of the mid-1980s, then watch "Rocky" or "Cop Land" to remind yourself that Sly actually can act when he's motivated.
Hannibal (2001)
a two hour "Itchy and Scratchy" episode
If nothing else, this movie confirms the high intelligence of Jodie Foster, Scott Glenn, Jonathan Demme, and the other "Silence" veterans who read the script and decided not to be part of it.
The major problems:
-the violence, most of which was so brilliantly implied in the first movie, is so absurdly over-the-top here that it becomes comical, like the insanely gory "Itchy and Scratchy" cat-and-mouse cartoons that Bart and Lisa Simpson love to watch on "The Simpsons." The hanging scene was effective but every other scene that involved blood was unintentionally comical. Wait a minute... Itchy did pull out Scratchy's brain on several occasions, and fed him to some alligators (not boars) once, and fed him his own innards too... Maybe Thomas Harris watched too many "Simpsons" episodes before writing the novel?
-making Lecter the protagonist, for lack of a better word. It's obvious that you're supposed to root for him, but you just can't. Was there anyone who didn't want to see him get his just desserts at Verger's hands? I don't think we were supposed to...
-I haven't read the novel, but apparently Mason Verger was a much nastier character than he was in the movie. Softening him up was a mistake; I felt sorry for him from the beginning, and he never seemed like a match for Lecter.
-the high quality of the performances vs the poor characterizations of the script:
Anthony Hopkins was, of course, mesmerizing. But he'd be mesmerizing reading the Yellow Pages in front of a brick wall, too. By the end he was reduced to one-liners and scary faces, which he didn't have to resort to the first time. Julianne Moore, one of my favorites, was a good choice for Clarice Starling, but the script didn't give her much to do til the end, and the character was changed drastically from the first movie. Gary Oldman was probably the only actor alive who could pull off the Mason Verger role, but as I said, the character was a major disappointment. And most surprisingly, the usually-terrific Ray Liotta turned in what may be his weakest performance to date; but it's not really his fault, since his character was so cliched and poorly written. He did seem to enjoy his big "dinner" scene though.
-how did the boars get from Sardinia to the US so fast?
If it weren't for the major talents involved, some nice Florentine scenery, and the film's pedigree (following one of the great American movies of the 1990s), this movie would be up there with "The Postman," "The Cable Guy," and "Battlefield Earth" in the So-Bad-It's-Almost-Good Hall of Fame.
You Only Live Twice (1967)
almost but not quite
Why I love this one:
Sean Connery's obvious boredom with the role of Bond. The first instance of Ian Fleming's story being mostly trashed by the filmmakers (although the novel would have been impossible to film as written; check it out!). The absurdly inaccurate depiction of life in Japan, which in this film never got further than the Medieval era. The villain who inspired Dr. Evil. The plot that inspired "The Spy Who Loved Me." The best Bond score ever. The best Bond theme song ever. The terrific fight sequence with the sumo guy in Osata's office. Tanaka's "Become a Full-Fledged Ninja in 2 Days or Double Your Money Back" School of Ninjutsu. The cosmetic surgery that is supposed to make Bond look Japanese but doesn't. The unfortunate incident that transformed Blofeld, tall and thin in all the previous movies, into a short fat guy in this one. The diving girl whose character is so poorly developed that you must watch the credits to learn her name (it's Kissy Suzuki). The magic camera that lets Blofeld see the space capsule hijacking as it occurs in orbit. The perverse logic of Blofeld trying to get rich(er) by destroying the USA and USSR, even though that would ruin the world economy and render his money useless... And how did SPECTRE build that crazy volcano-base without anyone noticing? And where did they put all the rubble?
Check it out just for the music and the aforementioned sumo office fight, then laugh through the rest of it.
The Wizard of Speed and Time (1988)
the ultimate trip
I finally managed to track this down at a cult-film video store, and it was worth all the effort. Do whatever you have to do to see this one! It vaguely reminded me of the low-budget inventiveness of Weird Al's "UHF," only multiplied 1000 times, and the "let's make a movie while the executives are out to lunch" zaniness of "Pee-Wee's Big Adventure."
There's a lot more to this movie (or movie-within-a-movie, or is it a movie-within-a-movie-within-a-movie?) than might appear. Subliminal messages, Hollywood major-studio politics, art vs. commerce, a startling new use for a chrome bust of Mickey Mouse, fantasy vs. reality, the horrors of dealing with unionized labor, some plugs for the Church of the Sub-genius, lots of deftly-employed stock footage, and the most terrifying "pizza with everything" you'll ever see. And there's even an intentionally-horrible musical number about the creation of the universe, which is thankfully interrupted by a ridiculous Presidential announcement.
You'll also get a fascinating look at the art of low-budget special effects production. Some of the visual treats Jittlov comes up with are astonishing, even in the post-CGI era, and particularly since he shows you how a lot of it is done.
There are some profound insights and a lot of laughs. I nearly fell on the floor laughing during the scene with the police helicopters, and why is one of the thugs Canadian? (why not?) How in the world did Jittlov film the suitcase/car chase at the end? Look for Philip Michael Thomas in a rare post-Miami Vice role. And make sure you stick around for all of the credits!
Mike Jittlov may not think of himself as a "real" actor, but he's got a lot of charm and he comes off as a genuinely likeable guy. And it was nice of him to cast his friends and family as themselves.
It might be too weird for some viewers, but if you're game, "The Wizard of Speed and Time" will put a smile on your face like few other films.
C.H.U.D. (1984)
so bad it's almost good... no wait, no it's not
Ah, New York, New York, where the sewage tunnels are brightly lit, where cops leave their patrol cars with the keys still in the ignition, where every apartment has a door that leads directly to the sewers (regardless of what floor it's on), where two people can find each other in the vast underground system of tunnels, and where every scene appears to take place on the same fake-looking city block. We must be talking about CHUD here!
This shining gem of a movie must have been made for under $1000 in 1984; it's basically filmed on 2 sets; one's a city block (where there's no traffic, ever?), and the other a big open underground cavern. The plot deals with toxic waste being secretly stored under New York City, apparently turning grubby-looking actors into grubby-looking actors wearing cheap rubber masks who growl a lot. There's only one truly shocking moment, when the very naked Kim Greist finds out what's been blocking her shower drain.
John Heard and Daniel Stern are actually quite good in early roles. Look fast for John Goodman and Jay Thomas (Eddie Lebec from "Cheers") as a couple of cops at the end, and also see if you recognize Jon Polito ("Miller's Crossing," "The Big Lebowski") as New York's only TV reporter.
Incidentally, I recently met Shep Abbott, who's credited with the story. He's a very nice fellow who lives in Northern Massachusetts. And he's got a big CHUD poster in his living room.
GoldenEye (1995)
Good, could have been great
I was very excited about this when the previews came out. Pierce Brosnan was born to be Bond, the action looked great, the gals looked great, and everything seemed in place.
As to the movie itself, it starts off very well. Brosnan's got charm and charisma up the wazoo. The pre-credit sequence is intense and I loved Judi Dench's M giving Bond hell about his sexist dinosaur ways. Brosnan's early scenes with Joe Don Baker and especially Robbie Coltrane are slyly funny and mucho fun. And Alan Cumming is a treat in any role; here he's a perverted Russian computer geek.
Unfortunately, once the plot kicks in, the post-modern edge fades and then it's exactly like every other Bond film. (SPOILERS) Alec Trevelyan could have been a perfect adversary for Bond; someone who knows all of 007's tricks and has had most of the same experiences. Too bad he quickly degenerates into yet another Bond supervillain with an inept private army, easily-destroyed secret headquarters, and a goofy plan to take over the world. And he makes every mistake that he should have known to avoid. As soon as he put Bond in the soon-to-self-destruct helicopter instead of just shooting him, I knew the story was in trouble. Sean Bean acquits himself nicely, and at least he gets to hang around with Famke Jensen, who's clearly having a ball (her bathhouse duet with 007 is a highlight).
The action scenes are cool, although I didn't think we needed to see Bond kill dozens of Russian soldiers in the Ministry building, and the tank chase seemed a bit too silly, a bit Roger Moore-esque. The climax is nothing we haven't seen twenty times, but Bond and Trevelyan's mano-e-mano is quite well done.
Snoopy Come Home (1972)
wacky and wonderfully subtle too
When I first saw this on TV at the tender age of 4, I cried my eyes out during Snoopy's going-away party near the end. When I recently saw it again, 20+ years later, I did exactly the same thing. The characters and situations are so genuine that I forgot it was a cartoon.
And I noticed how many brilliant little details are hidden in this gem: the copy of "Sambo" at the library, then Snoopy's reaction to the highbrow humor of "The Bunnies," and Woodstock's assistance in helping Snoopy cheat at chess against Lila. Note my two favorite scenes: when Sally absent-mindedly grabs Snoopy's nose through the library bookcase (and her little smile afterwards), and when Woodstock falls asleep watching the flock of birds pass gracefully overhead.
And the music is on par with anything you'd hear in an old Looney Tunes cartoon. Notice how the carnival music shares its melody with the sad song Charlie Brown sings after Snoopy leaves the second time? Or the zany symphonic freakout that accompanies the chase through Crazy Clara's house? And I love the lyrics to the "Me and you, a two-man crew" song that's used as the duo's song of the open road. And of course the hilarious basso profundo that underscores every appearance of the dreaded "No Dogs Allowed" sign!
Rent it, buy it, love it. This is the real thing!