A German film from 1970, o.k. opens with a black-and-white shot of a group of men walking into a two-story house that’s sitting near a forest. The camera tracks them as they walk through the front hallway and enter a larger room. Uniforms of the U.S. Army hang on a rack in the room. Members of a film crew greet the men. A young woman sits quietly at a window and looks at the forest outside.
One by one, the men turn to the camera and introduce themselves. They give their name, their age, their religion, and their marital status. Two say that they are Roman Catholic but are no longer members of the Church. One Protestant says that he also no longer attends services. Another actor introduces himself as being a 28-year-old virgin and then briefly looks as if he regrets his candor. Director Michael Verhoeven joins the men to explain that the film we are about to see was filmed in Bavaria but it takes place in Vietnam. The film is based on an actual incident that occurred in 1966, when the Vietnam War was still in its early stages. While on patrol, four soldiers abducted, raped, and killed a young Vietnamese girl. Only one soldier refused to take part and reported the incident to his superiors, all of whom said that it was simply the type of incident that takes place in all wars.
(Known as the Incident on Hill 192, this crime also served as the basis of Brian De Palma’s far more straightforward Casualties of War.)
I have to admit that my first reaction to this was to think, “I’m not sure if I’m in the mood to be lectured about war crimes by the Germans.” However, one gets the feeling that Verhoeven himself knew that this would be the reaction of quite a few viewers and he was prepared for it. His actors explain that they didn’t film in Vietnam because Vietnam is “far away.” Instead, they filmed in Bavaria because “Here is closer.” I found myself thinking about that turn of phrase quite a bit as I watched o.k. “Here is closer.” o.k. may have been inspired by what happened in Vietnam but it was also about what happens in every war. The American soldiers, who have lost their humanity to war, all have American names but the actors make no effort to hide their German accents. The Vietnamese girl who was killed is played by German actress Eva Mattes and, again, no attempt is made to hide the fact that she is German. The characters emerge as universal soldiers and universal victims, playing out the same cycle, war after war. Verhoeven is not attacking America. He’s portraying the cost of tossing people into a situation where they have no control over their fates. The soldiers adopt a philosophy of kill-or-be-killed. Civilians, like Phan Ti Mao (played by Mattes), have no choice but to try to live in the middle of a war zone. The film is simply-told and starkly shot. We are continually reminded that we are watching a film, a production. We’re put at a distance and asked to just consider the film’s story and message without having the benefit of any of the usual war movie clichés or adrenaline-fueled action scenes to provide us with an emotional escape. Here is closer.
o.k. engendered more than a little controversy when it was released. It was entered into the 1970 Berlin Film Festival. Director George Stevens was the head of the jury that year and he led an effort to have the movie removed from competition. He cited a festival by-law that stated that the films at the festival should “contribute to a better understanding between nations.” When the jury voted 7-2 to remove o.k., the other filmmakers at the festival withdrew their films in solidarity and the Berlin Film Festival was canceled for that year. o.k. was later submitted as Germany’s entry for the Best Foreign Language Film Oscar (as it was known back then) but it was not nominated.
Seen today, o.k. can sometimes seem a bit too studied for its own good but again, that was the point. It was a film that was deliberately made to force the audience to consider the production’s anti-war message without the benefit of easy sentiment. That said, it makes its argument effectively. It’s a film that epitomizes its own difficult era.
1972’s AWOL tells the story of an American soldier named Willy (Russ Thacker) who decides that he’s no longer going to fight in Vietnam. He goes to Sweden and informs the police that he has decided to desert. The bored policeman tells him to stay out of trouble. “No narcotics,” he says. “Of course,” Willy says, shocked to discover just how easy it is to desert.
Willy struggles to adapt to life in Sweden. At first, he has fun seeing the sights and wearing a silly little hat and visiting the carnival. Unfortunately, he has little money and no friends, and he soon finds himself feeling lonely. A job working on an adult film leads to him meeting another American expatriate, Mohammed G (Glynn Thurman). Mohammed introduces Willy to his friends, a group of rather shallow Leftists. Willy starts a relationship with Inga (Isabella Kaliff). They don’t agree on the merits of Che Guevara, but they fall in love anyway.
(Just a quick sidenote: Che was a racist butcher who executed thousands of innocent Cubans and who is only remembered today because of one good picture and the fact that he was executed by the Bolivians. The fact that he’s held up as some sort of icon is proof of just how shallow most political activists actually are.)
Meanwhile, the CIA wants Willy to come back home. A corpulent agent with the name of Cupp (Dutch Miller) continually appears and tries to bribe Willy into returning. He promises that nothing bad will happen to Willy if he returns to America. At worst, he’ll be required to do a few months of therapy. When that doesn’t work, Cupp drags Willy to his station house and has Willy’s parents appear on television. There’s a big moose head on the wall of the station house and its eyes glow red.
AWOL‘s a bit of an odd film, which should not be taken to mean that it’s necessarily an interesting film. The tone is all over the place. Willy and Mohammed discuss America and whether or not they can love the country from which they’ve fled. Cupp appears and uses a mini-camera hidden in his class ring to take pictures of Willy and Inga. Willy and Inga get a falling in love montage, complete with a syrupy ballad. Cupp offers Willy a briefcase full of American candy bars and soft drinks. There is footage of a demonstration. There are moments of goofy humor, and Russ Thacker wanders through the film with a somewhat dazed look on his face, a Vietnam-era Candide, a stranger in a Swedish land. The film ends on a dark note, leaving one to wonder if the film is trying to punish us for smirking at the shallowness of its politics. It’s not necessarily a good film, but it is definitely a film of its time.
AWOL was directed by Herb Freed, who got his start in commercials and later went on to direct the classic slasher, Graduation Day. The film was obviously meant to appeal to a combination of hippies and fans of Swedish sex films. That said, the sex is fairly tame and the film itself doesn’t seem to really have much affinity for the counterculture. If anything, the film’s Leftists come across as being so self-righteous that they make the openly amoral CIA agent seem likable by comparison. It’s tempting to compare this film to An American Hippie In Israel. An American Hippie was also a counter-culture film about a soldier who was traumatized by Vietnam and, like AWOL, it was tonally all over the place. But An American Hippie In Israel worked because, whatever else you might want to say about it (and I love the film), it’s actually sympathetic to the main character and his plea for people to “stop pushing buttons.” AWOL, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to even like Willy, much less understand him.
AWOL is very much a film of its time and, when it is interesting, it’s interesting as a portrayal of the early 70s. It’s a time capsule, one that is fit to be dug up and investigated at least once before being forgotten about again.
The year was 1977 and Don Letts had a video camera.
Letts was the DJ at The Roxy, a nightclub in London that gained some notoriety by hosting Punk acts like Sex Pistols, The Clash, The Slits, Siouxsie and the Banshees, Generation X, and several others. In his role as DJ, Letts is often credited with introducing British punks to Jamaican reggae. (I’ve occasionally seen it misreported that Letts himself was from Jamaica. Letts commented in an interview that, until he visited the country with Johnny Lydon, the closest he had come to Jamaica was watching The Harder They Come.) As an amateur filmmaker, Letts was responsible for making one of the key documentaries about the early days of Punk Rock, 1978’s The Punk Rock Movie.
Shot largely at the Roxy, The Punk Rock Movie features raw but candid footage of some of the key Punk bands. Sex Pistols are there, of course. The Clash get a lot of footage and it’s interesting to see the young members of the band doing something other than screeching about imperialism. Billy Idol appears and shows off the rough charisma that would make him a star. We watch as The Slits argue in rehearsal. Siouxsie Sioux both performs and appears backstage, playing the enigmatic Punk diva. We also see quite a few Punks acts who are no longer as well-remembered as The Clash or Sex Pistols. Even with the DIY, anti-star ethos of the Punk Rock era, stage presence counted for a lot. Some bands just naturally had it and some bands did not.
I watched The Punk Rock Movie on Tubi and the most frequent caption was one informing me that the lyrics were unintelligible due to the music. It was a caption that I saw so frequently that I found myself both predicting when it would pop up and laughing when it did so. The Punk Rock Movie is a raw film. Don Letts shot the footage with a Super 8 Camera and, as a result, there’s nothing slick about the film. The images are sometimes blurry. It can be hard to make out what everyone is saying. It’s a far cry from the type of carefully choreographed and meticulously shot concert footage that we’re used to seeing. Needless to say, that’s a good deal of the film’s appeal. It’s often said, perhaps incorrectly, that Punk was started as a reaction to the commercialization of rock. At a time when soulless hitmakers and aging millionaires were dominating music, Punk came along with a burst of anger and vitality. The Punk Rock Movie captures that youthful anger. It captures the feeling of people refusing to accept that only a certain few were allowed to make music or express themselves. Scenes of the police raiding a Punk store add a political element of the film while the backstage and tour bus footage serve to remind us of just how English the original Punks were.
It’s no surprise that Sex Pistols dominate the film. We don’t see them backstage but we don’t have to. All we have to do is see Johnny Rotten (as he was known then) staring out at the audience. One of the more interesting thing about Punk is that the Sex Pistols were sold as being a band that didn’t know how to play their instruments or sing. This film reveals that, for whatever they lacked in formal training, they were naturals on stage. Regardless of what Malcolm McLaren and the press may have insisted, they were born to be stars.
For today’s music video of the day, we have Kim Wilde performing Kids in America. This was her first single and one of two of Wilde’s singles to chart in the United States, the other one being her cover of The Supremes’s You Keep Me Hangin’ On. (Wilde found more success in her home country, with 25 singles charting on the UK charts.) The song was written by Wilde’s father and her older brother, both of whom were fascinated by American youth culture.
The video, which finds Kim Wilde literally looking out a “dirty old window,” was directed by Brian Grant, who was one of the busiest music video directors of the 1980s. He also did videos for The Human League, Squeeze, Queen, and Tina Turner.
Myself, I will always associate this song with stealing cars in Vice City.
The only thing better than stealing a golf cart is stealing a golf cart while listening to Kim Wilde sing Kids in America!
Welcome to Late Night Retro Television Reviews, a feature where we review some of our favorite and least favorite shows of the past! On Sunday, I will be reviewing the Canadian series, Degrassi: The Next Generation, which aired from 2001 to 2015! The series can be streamed on YouTube and Tubi.
This week, we finish up Christmas in Canada!
Episode 3.12 “Holiday Part Two”
(Dir by Philip Earnshaw, originally aired on December 17th, 2003)
Craig has no idea how to cheat.
It’s Christmas and he currently has two girlfriends. He’s scheduled to perform in Degrassi’s holiday pageant with Ashley. At the same time, he’s told Manny that he and Ashley have broken up. For Christmas, he buys gifts for both Ashley and Manny. Ashley gets a badass Ramones t-shirt. (Ashley reminds me a lot of myself). Manny gets a pink sweater and a skating bracelet. Foolishly, Craig leaves Ashley alone in his room and Ashley discovers the gift bags. She sees all of the gifts.
Later, at the Christmas pageant, she notices that Manny is wearing the bracelet. And she has a gift bag with the sweater in it! When Ashley asks Manny who gave her the gifts, Manny refuses to say. However, she does tell Ashley that she hopes Ashley can move on after losing Craig. Agck!
The holiday pageant does not go well for Craig. Ashley walks out on stage and slaps him. So much for their deut of All I Want For Christmas Is You. Joey later finds Craig sulking in the hallway. Joey tells him about the time that he cheated on Caitlin with Tessa Campanelli. Craig responds be telling Joey that he’s obviously still in love with Caitlin.
*sigh*
(By the way, that’s a sigh of frustration, not romance.)
Yes, this is the episode where Joey realizes that he’s still in love with Caitlin and dumps Sydney on Christmas Eve. The first time I saw this episode, I thought that the way that Joey rushed down to the airport and caught Caitlin before she left for Montreal was romantic. Rewatching it, I realized just how self-absorbed both Caitlin and Joey are. Joey treats Sydney like dirt, despite the fact that Sydney has spent months looking after his daughter, taking care of the house, and devoting almost all of her time to him. The show tries to turn Sydney into a villain but all she did was ask Joey’s ex-girlfriend to start trying to break into his house. To me, that seems pretty reasonable.
As for Caitlin, it’s hard to know where to even begin. When this show started, Caitlin was portrayed as being a largely down-to-Earth, mature human being. With this episode, Caitlin is suddenly transformed into a neurotic klutz. Suddenly, she’s slipping a love note through Joey’s mail slot and then getting stuck in the kitchen window when she tries to break in to retrieve it. That’s not the Caitlin who was previously on the show. I assume the show’s writers were trying to make her into an adorkable romantic comedy lead but, as it is, she just seems like someone who has an unhealthy hang-up on a guy who cheated on her in high school.
Oh well. I do appreciate that this was a Christmas episode. All of the snow looked lovely. That said, I will always feel bad for Ashley and Sydney. They both deserved a better holiday.
J.T. Walsh is one of the great character actors of all time. Born on September 28th, 1943, he died way too young at just 54 years of age. You could count on him being good in any role, but I always appreciated him appearing with Billy Bob Thornton at the beginning and end of SLING BLADE (1996). He filmed his scenes about 15 miles from my house.
In Volcano, Los Angeles does not just face an earthquake, fire, or some ordinary civic emergency—it finds itself threatened by a river of lava tearing through the heart of the city. Directed by Mick Jackson, the 1997 disaster movie takes a premise that is almost impossible to accept on paper and sells it through speed, scale, and the sheer force of Tommy Lee Jones barking orders at people. A volcano erupting beneath Los Angeles, near the La Brea Tar Pits no less, is not exactly a model of scientific credibility. Still, the film is energetic enough to make its absurdity part of the entertainment.
The setup is wonderfully direct. An earthquake rattles Los Angeles, workers begin dying in underground tunnels, and a strange source of extreme heat is discovered beneath the city. Before long, lava is spilling into the streets, buildings are catching fire, and the city’s Emergency Management director Mike Roark, played by Tommy Lee Jones, has to coordinate an increasingly desperate effort to keep downtown Los Angeles from being wiped out. Anne Heche plays Dr. Amy Barnes, the geologist who realizes that the city is dealing with more than an earthquake or a gas leak. Together, Roark and Barnes become the film’s central problem-solving team: he is the practical, politically frustrated municipal leader, while she is the scientific expert trying to explain the impossible thing happening under everyone’s feet.
What makes Volcano enjoyable is that it does not waste much time pretending to be a subtle character drama. The movie’s main concern is escalation. Every time the heroes think they have contained the problem, the lava finds another way to spread. It comes through the subway. It crashes through pavement. It turns a normal Los Angeles intersection into a landscape from hell. The film understands the simple pleasure of watching ordinary urban infrastructure become a weapon or a liability. A train tunnel, a concrete barrier, construction equipment, storm drains, and even a city block all become parts of an enormous improvised plan to redirect molten rock.
Mick Jackson directs the action with enough urgency that the movie often works even when the science is wobbling badly. The special effects are very much of their era, combining practical fire, miniatures, digital lava, and lots of actors reacting to bright orange light. Some of the CGI has aged about as gracefully as one would expect from 1997, but the physical effects still have impact. The lava itself has a thick, almost muscular quality in the film. It does not just look like glowing liquid; it moves like an unstoppable wall that eats concrete, cars, and people. The images of lava flooding Los Angeles streets remain the reason to watch the movie. They are absurd, but memorably absurd.
The film also benefits from treating the crisis as a citywide emergency rather than simply a personal survival story. Roark is not a scientist, soldier, or superhero. He is basically a city official who has to make decisions under impossible conditions, manage multiple agencies, argue with politicians, and keep people from panicking. Tommy Lee Jones is perfect casting for that role. He has the right mixture of exhaustion, irritation, authority, and reluctant decency. Jones does not play Roark as a polished action hero; he plays him like a man who had plans for a quiet weekend with his daughter and instead ends up trying to stop Los Angeles from being buried under lava. His natural gruffness gives the movie more weight than it might otherwise have.
Anne Heche brings a different energy as Amy Barnes. Her character is often stuck delivering exposition, explaining volcanic activity, underground pressure, and why everyone is probably about to die, but Heche commits to it. She gives Amy enough urgency and intelligence that the scientific dialogue feels less like a lecture and more like another kind of emergency response. The relationship between Roark and Amy is also refreshingly restrained. The movie could have forced a big romantic subplot between them, but it mostly keeps their connection professional. They respect each other because they are both good at their jobs, which is more interesting than a last-minute disaster-movie love story.
The supporting cast is solid as well. Don Cheadle has a memorable role as Emmit Reese, a subway supervisor who becomes one of Roark’s most important allies. Keith David also adds welcome presence as a police lieutenant helping coordinate the response. Gaby Hoffmann plays Roark’s daughter Kelly, and while the daughter-in-peril material is fairly standard, it gives Jones’s character an emotional stake outside the command center. The film occasionally leans hard on familiar disaster-movie formulas, including separated family members, skeptical officials, and civilians making terrible decisions near obviously dangerous lava, but that is part of the package. Volcano is not trying to reinvent the genre. It is trying to make the genre run hot and fast for 104 minutes.
It is hard not to compare Volcano with Dante’s Peak, the other major volcano disaster movie released earlier in 1997. Dante’s Peak at least tries to ground its eruption in recognizable volcanic warning signs, scientific procedure, and the danger of officials ignoring experts until it is too late. Even when it becomes exaggerated, the film wants viewers to feel that its disaster could plausibly grow out of real geological conditions. Volcano, on the other hand, does not have much interest in maintaining that kind of credibility. Its premise is already much wilder: molten lava suddenly emerging beneath one of the largest cities in the United States. Rather than fight that inherent silliness, Mick Jackson’s film leans into it. Where Dante’s Peak aims for science-flavored suspense, Volcano goes for spectacle, turning Los Angeles itself into a giant disaster-movie set piece.
The biggest issue is that the movie never really decides how seriously it wants to take itself. At times, it is a grim urban catastrophe film in which people die in horrifying ways. One scene involving a transit worker trying to rescue another man from the lava is still surprisingly brutal and sad. At other times, Volcano is close to accidental comedy, especially whenever the film attempts to explain its geology with complete confidence. The idea of a full-scale volcanic eruption beneath Los Angeles is already a major stretch, but the movie goes beyond that into a kind of aggressively convenient science. The lava moves where the plot needs it to move, barriers hold until they need to fail, and the city seems able to mobilize massive engineering projects at a speed that would make any real emergency planner laugh.
Still, questioning the realism too closely misses the appeal. Volcano belongs to that specific 1990s era when major studios were throwing big budgets at destruction spectacles with recognizable stars and high-concept premises. The movie is essentially a monster film where the monster is a river of lava rolling through Los Angeles. Instead of a creature smashing buildings, it is molten rock swallowing streets, derailing infrastructure, and forcing ordinary people to run for their lives.
The movie is also unintentionally revealing about late-1990s disaster filmmaking. It has a strong faith in public-service workers, engineers, transit employees, firefighters, police officers, and regular people doing dangerous jobs because somebody has to do them. Roark’s strategy is not to defeat nature through one genius solution. It is to coordinate an enormous group effort, with people hauling concrete barriers, driving equipment, evacuating neighborhoods, and taking risks to buy the city more time. That civic-minded quality gives the film a little more heart than its reputation as a silly lava movie might suggest.
In the end, Volcano is neither a great disaster movie nor a completely disposable one. It is too scientifically goofy to be taken seriously as a realistic thriller, and its dialogue can be very blunt. Yet it has pace, personality, some genuinely effective spectacle, and a reliably entertaining Tommy Lee Jones performance at its center. It is the kind of movie where a man can face a molten river in downtown Los Angeles and somehow make you believe that yelling louder might solve the problem. For viewers in the mood for a big, fiery, unapologetically 1990s popcorn movie, Volcano remains a fun eruption of chaos.
Welcome to Retro Television Reviews, a feature where we review some of our favorite and least favorite shows of the past! On Sundays, I will be reviewing Homicide: Life On The Street, which aired from 1993 to 1999, on NBC! It can be viewed on Peacock.
This week, Homicide crosses over with Law & Order.
Law & Order 8.6 “Baby, It’s You”
(Dir by Edwin Sherin, originally aired on November 12th, 1997)
Homicide 6.5 “Baby, It’s You”
(Dir by Edwin Sherin, originally aired on November 14th, 1997)
In New York City, Lennie Briscoe (Jerry Orbach) and Rey Curtis (Benjamin Bratt) find themselves investigating the death of a 14 year-old model named Brittany Janeway. The daughter of plastic surgeon Steven Janeway (Tom Tammi) and his wife Gayle (Maureen Anderman), Brittany died after complaining to her father about abdominal pain. The medical examiner determines that, two weeks before her death, Brittany was sexually assaulted with such severity that it resulted in internal injuries that led to toxic shock.
When the detectives learn that Brittany was in Baltimore two weeks earlier, they call Lt. Giardello and ask if he can send two of his detectives to check on the family’s Maryland home. The job falls to Detective Munch, who is still angry over the fact that Briscoe once slept with his first wife. Munch asks Falsone (ugh!) to accompany him. When Munch and Falsone learn that the son of the Janeways’s New York housekeeper was seen in Baltimore on the night that Brittany was raped, they have a suspect. Danvers sends them to New York with one mission. Arrest the guy and bring him back to Baltimore to stand trial. Jack McCoy (Sam Waterston) is not happy about that. Because Brittany died in New York, he feels that it’s his case to prosecute. Because the rape that led to Brittany’s death happened in Baltimore, Danvers claims that it’s his case.
Of course, once the suspect is arrested, it turns out that he wasn’t the perpetrator. Instead, he was a witness. According to him, Brittany had already been raped by the time he arrived at the house. The suspicion immediately shifts to Dr. Janeway. When the doctor is arrested in Baltimore, McCoy heads down to Maryland to argue that the case should be tried in New York. Judge Andahl (Sagan Lewis), who was last seen getting Elijah Wood off of a murder charge, disagrees. However, she allows McCoy to be co-counsel with Danvers.
In a twist that will not surprise anyone who has ever seen an episode of Law & Order, it turns out that Brittany was not assaulted by her father. Instead, she was assaulted by her mother.
The last time Law & Order and Homicide did a cross-over, the emphasis was on Pembleton and Bayliss and their unorthodox interrogation technique running up against McCoy’s need for admissible evidence. This time, when McCoy goes down to Baltimore, he quickly befriends and starts to discuss life with — you guessed it! — Detective Paul Falsone! In fact, Pembleton and Bayliss are barely present in this cross-over. While Munch does get to engage in some fun passive-aggressive banter with Lennie Briscoe, this cross-over is ultimately all about Paul Falsone, the super detective who never makes a mistake.
Good Lord, why? WHY DOES EVERYTHING HAVE TO BE ABOUT FALSONE? Falsone is a boring character. We are five episodes into the sixth season and Falsone has been a major part of four of them. The veteran Homicide actors were pushed to the side so that Jon Seda could wander around and mutter his lines. I get that show was trying to appeal to fans of more action-orientated cop shows with the character of Falsone but, in what I’ve seen so far, Seda has not shown a hint of charisma in the role. The fact that Homicide keeps insisting that Falsone is the greatest detective in the history of detectives does not make the character any more intriguing.
This crossover was a disappointment, The story, which was obviously based on the JonBenet Ramsey case, was sordid simply for the sake of being sordid and the big reveal that the murderer was the mother was not quite the shocking moment that it was bult up to be. Anyone familiar with Law & Order could have guessed who the murderer was going to be. And then, on top of everything else — FALSONE!
