Horror Film Review: Invasion of the Body Snatchers (dir. by Philip Kaufman)

Posted on October 29, 2026 by Arleigh

“I keep seeing these people, all recognizing each other.” — Elizabeth Driscoll

Most alien-invasion movies give you something obvious to fear: a flying saucer, a ruined skyline, a creature that clearly doesn’t belong here. Philip Kaufman’s Invasion of the Body Snatchers goes after something more uncomfortable. What happens when the person beside you looks perfectly normal, but you can’t shake the feeling that they’re gone? Released in 1978, this remake of Don Siegel’s 1956 film of the same name turns that question into a funny, disgusting, and increasingly desperate nightmare. Its greatest weapon isn’t an alien organism. It’s the possibility that being human is something you can lose while the rest of the world carries on as if nothing has happened.

That fear takes hold through Elizabeth Driscoll, played by Brooke Adams, who notices an unsettling change in her boyfriend. Nothing about his appearance explains it; he simply no longer seems like himself. Her colleague Matthew Bennell, a San Francisco health inspector played by Donald Sutherland, listens sympathetically but initially searches for a reasonable explanation. Unfortunately, reason has some catching up to do. Alien life forms are duplicating people while they sleep, leaving behind replacements who possess familiar faces but none of the emotional attachments. Adapted, like the original, from Jack Finney’s The Body Snatchers, the story turns an outrageous premise into a horribly intimate problem.

What’s especially effective is that Elizabeth’s concern resembles something people might ordinarily dismiss. Relationships change. Partners become distant. A person who once seemed attentive can suddenly appear distracted or cold. How do you explain that someone isn’t themselves when you have no physical evidence and can’t point to a single decisive incident? Adams makes that uncertainty convincing. Elizabeth isn’t immediately trying to prove an alien invasion; she’s trying to get someone to understand an experience she can barely describe. The science-fiction concept works because the emotional situation already makes sense. Before the movie asks us to believe in replacement bodies, it asks us to recognize the discomfort of feeling shut out by someone familiar.

Kaufman gets plenty of mileage out of the gap between noticing a problem and understanding it. Early scenes contain little disturbances that don’t immediately announce themselves as clues. Background figures behave strangely, conversations feel slightly off, and people seem to be moving according to instructions the main characters haven’t received. You begin watching the edges of the image, wondering who belongs there and who has already changed. That’s where the film’s paranoia takes root. Rather than simply telling us that Matthew and Elizabeth are frightened, Kaufman encourages us to adopt their increasingly suspicious way of looking at everyone. Watching becomes a form of anxious detective work.

The nice thing about this approach is that the film doesn’t need every suspicious detail to become a dramatic revelation. Sometimes a strange person is simply strange, and sometimes an awkward interaction remains unexplained. That uncertainty makes the environment feel less predictable than a straightforward series of planted clues would. We’re never comfortably ahead of the characters, checking off signs of an invasion we already understand. Instead, we share their problem of deciding what matters. Once the possibility of replacement enters the picture, practically any behavior can look incriminating. Someone is too calm, too hurried, too distracted, or too interested in what you’re doing. There’s no useful baseline anymore.

San Francisco is essential to that effect. A crowded city should offer anonymity and plenty of places to disappear, but here it gradually becomes a network of observers. Restaurants, offices, streets, and public facilities stop feeling neutral. Even asking for help becomes risky when there’s no reliable way to know who is answering. The shift from the earlier film’s small California community gives the remake a different kind of claustrophobia. There’s more room to run, yet fewer reasons to believe running will help. Kaufman makes a recognizable city feel like a trap without needing to empty its streets. The ordinary activity is what makes it oppressive: everybody seems to have somewhere to go, and you’re increasingly certain you don’t want to follow them.

That change also helps distinguish the remake’s concerns from those of the 1956 original. Siegel’s film sits within the Cold War and Red Scare atmosphere, its replacement story lending itself to fears of Communist infiltration as well as the pressures of McCarthyist conformity. Kaufman’s version leans more heavily into the conspiracy-minded mood of the 1970s. Suspicion reaches beyond dangerous outsiders to institutions, professional authority, and the mechanisms of everyday life. The frightening question isn’t just whether someone has infiltrated society. It’s whether society is already organized around keeping you confused. Discovering the truth doesn’t restore control; it reveals how little control the characters have.

The setting adds another bitter layer: this is San Francisco after the idealism of the 1960s counterculture has started wearing thin. A city associated with freedom, experimentation, and communal possibility becomes the backdrop for the destruction of individuality. The film catches something unsettling in the distance between the promise of personal liberation and the emotional isolation that can follow it. People have ways to discuss feelings, relationships, and self-improvement, but that vocabulary doesn’t necessarily help them connect. The invasion feels less like a complete break with their world than a horrible extension of tendencies already taking shape within it. The old dream of everyone coming together returns in a form nobody should want.

That doesn’t mean the movie is simply sneering at countercultural ideals or suggesting that conformity is inevitable. Its sympathies remain with affection, eccentricity, and the difficult business of caring about other people. What it distrusts is the substitution of smooth language for genuine feeling. There’s a difference between understanding someone and talking them out of their own experience, and the film keeps poking at that distinction. The invaders offer an existence without emotional conflict, but removing pain also means removing the attachments that make pain possible. It’s an awful bargain disguised as a sensible solution. From that angle, the invasion is selling a particularly extreme version of peace of mind.

Leonard Nimoy makes that idea especially sharp as psychiatrist and self-help celebrity David Kibner. He speaks with the confidence of someone accustomed to explaining other people to themselves, and his calm manner initially seems comforting. Before long, though, that reassurance starts to feel oppressive. When someone insists that your terror is merely a misunderstanding, how do you tell compassion from dismissal? Nimoy keeps that question alive without overplaying it. His composure becomes a source of tension precisely because it’s so controlled. In a movie full of people struggling to articulate their distress, he always seems to have an answer ready. Eventually, that feels less like wisdom than a reason to worry.

Against that polished certainty, Sutherland’s rumpled warmth is a major asset. Matthew seems intelligent and attentive rather than exceptionally brave, which makes his growing desperation convincing. He’s willing to listen, but he also needs time to abandon the explanations that usually make his world manageable. Sutherland lets him be funny and slightly awkward without turning him into a lovable collection of quirks. You believe he has a life outside the plot. That matters because the movie isn’t simply threatening his physical survival. It’s dismantling the ordinary habits, professional confidence, and personal connections that allow him to function.

His relationship with Elizabeth gives that dismantling an emotional center. Adams and Sutherland build their closeness through looks, conversations, and small gestures rather than big romantic speeches. There’s warmth between them, but also hesitation, as though they’re still working out what they’re allowed to acknowledge. The restraint makes the relationship feel vulnerable even before the invasion closes in. In a story about bodies surviving while personalities disappear, their chemistry provides something the special effects can’t: a sense of what replacement would erase. A duplicate could repeat the right words, but the movie has already shown us how much communication happens in the spaces around them.

Jeff Goldblum and Veronica Cartwright bring welcome friction as Jack and Nancy Bellicec. Goldblum’s nervous, argumentative manner keeps Jack from becoming a generic supporting character, while Cartwright makes Nancy’s alarm feel immediate and physically exhausting. Together, the central group is messy in recognizably human ways. They interrupt, disagree, misjudge situations, and occasionally get on each other’s nerves. Their humor isn’t a distraction from the horror; it establishes the untidy individuality the invaders would eliminate. The prospect of a world without conflict might sound attractive in theory, but spending time with these people makes its emotional cost clear. An easier existence would also be a much emptier one.

When the physical horror arrives, it gives that emptiness a nasty material form. Developing duplicates look wet, unfinished, and unpleasantly organic, turning an abstract fear of lost identity into something you can practically smell. There’s something especially upsetting about seeing a recognizable human shape emerge without the person who should belong to it. Kaufman knows when to stop suggesting and show us the evidence, and those moments hit harder because the surrounding suspense has been so controlled. The effects aren’t merely punctuation between chase scenes. They make replacement feel like a biological process that has no interest in whether its victims understand or consent.

Sleep is an equally effective threat because there’s no sustainable way to avoid it. A locked door might keep someone outside, but it can’t keep you awake forever. As exhaustion takes over, the characters’ bodies become unreliable allies, and the movie’s rhythm grows more desperate. Brief moments of rest carry their own suspense because relief and surrender begin to resemble each other. That’s one of the film’s cruelest moves: something comforting and necessary becomes the condition that makes you vulnerable. Survival requires constant vigilance, while ordinary human limits guarantee that vigilance will eventually fail.

The film’s relentless pressure can make its later passages feel deliberately exhausting. Once the invasion becomes undeniable, there’s less room for the social comedy and ambiguity that make the opening so engaging. But that narrowing feels purposeful rather than merely repetitive. The characters lose options, and the movie loses breathing room with them. Places that once seemed distinct start to feel like extensions of the same hostile environment. By then, the question isn’t whether they can explain what’s happening. It’s whether knowing makes any practical difference at all.

By the time Invasion of the Body Snatchers reaches its brutal conclusion, its opening uneasiness has become a way of life. Every familiar face demands scrutiny, and every moment of relief feels borrowed. The famous ending brings that uncertainty to a devastating point without needing to explain away its power. What stays with me, though, is how much warmth the film puts at risk before it gets there. Kaufman makes humanity look awkward, argumentative, affectionate, and vulnerable—hardly an efficient arrangement, but one worth defending. The replacements can reproduce a face and move through the routines of a life. The horror is everything they leave out.

Review: The Distinguished Gentleman (dir. by Jonathan Lynn)

Posted on September 25, 2026 by Arleigh

“With all this money coming in from both sides, how does anything ever get done?” — Thomas Jefferson Johnson

The Distinguished Gentleman is an uneven but enjoyable Eddie Murphy comedy whose premise has become more relevant with time. Directed by Jonathan Lynn, the 1992 film casts Murphy as Thomas Jefferson Johnson, a Florida con man who discovers that a recently deceased congressman had the exact same name. Seeing a shortcut to money and status, Johnson runs for the vacant House seat, wins largely on name recognition, and enters Washington with no meaningful political experience. In 1992, that premise played as broad political satire. Today, it carries a more uneasy edge, because its suggestion that image, recognition, and confidence can outrun scrutiny does not seem nearly as far-fetched.

That change in perspective makes the film’s central joke more interesting. Johnson begins as a small-time hustler who understands scams, pressure, ego, and persuasion. Once he reaches Congress, however, he discovers a political world that runs on many of the same instincts. The people around him do not call their dealings scams. They talk about donations, access, relationships, opportunities, and constituent concerns. But Johnson sees the transaction beneath the polished language immediately. The movie’s sharpest idea is that he may be a con man, yet he is not automatically the least honest person in Washington. He merely lacks the expensive suits and professional vocabulary used to make self-interest look respectable.

Murphy is exactly the right actor to make that contradiction work. Thomas Jefferson Johnson has to be selfish enough for the premise to hold together, clever enough to survive in an unfamiliar environment, and charming enough that the audience still wants to follow him after he wins office through deception. Murphy brings all of those qualities to the role. Johnson enjoys the attention, travel, influence, and special treatment attached to public office because he sees Congress as the biggest score he has ever found. At the same time, Murphy gives him enough quickness and warmth that he never becomes unpleasant. Even when Johnson does not understand what is happening around him, he moves through Washington with the confidence of someone who assumes he belongs there.

That confidence drives the movie’s strongest material. Johnson may not know committee procedure, legislative language, or public policy, but he knows people. He can recognize when praise is a setup, when a favor comes with strings attached, and when a supposedly helpful figure is treating him as an investment. This makes him an effective comic guide through Washington’s rituals. He is unqualified in the usual sense, but he is unusually qualified to identify the self-dealing hidden behind political formality. Jonathan Lynn understands the humor in that contrast and keeps the early scenes moving briskly through offices, hearings, fundraisers, press events, and lobbyist meetings. His direction is functional rather than visually distinctive, but it gives Murphy room to work and makes the political setting clear without drowning the comedy in procedure.

The problem is that the movie gradually moves away from the very idea that gives it its satirical bite. Johnson’s election is a pointed joke about name recognition, voter inattentiveness, and political branding. He wins because his name is familiar enough to inspire trust, not because anyone has evaluated his experience, policies, or character. That setup could have supported a more sustained comedy about campaigns, media manipulation, and the ease with which public image can substitute for qualification. Instead, the film shifts into a more conventional pharmaceutical-company corruption plot, giving Johnson an external villain and a clear reason to become more responsible.

That shift is understandable, since the story needs stakes beyond Johnson simply enjoying the perks of Congress. It also gives Murphy a more sympathetic character arc. Once Johnson sees the real-world consequences of corporate influence and political favors, he begins to use his instincts against people whose schemes are more damaging than his own. The change works because he does not become a completely different person. He remains fast-talking, opportunistic, and alert to every available angle. What changes is his sense of scale: his scams are about quick money, while the larger political and corporate schemes around him can hurt ordinary people while remaining hidden behind legal language and respectable appearances.

Still, making the conflict so clear-cut also weakens the satire. The opening suggests that corruption is part of a broader culture of money, access, public relations, and political influence. The later plot makes it easier to imagine that the problem lies mainly with a few especially corrupt people. Lane Smith’s Dick Dodge represents that polished form of corruption effectively. Dodge has the calm authority and practiced respectability of a politician who can make unethical behavior sound like normal procedure. He is a good villain precisely because he does not need to look obviously sinister; he simply treats power as something to be managed for private benefit.

Dodge’s presence becomes more useful because the film gives him a genuine counterweight in Charles S. Dutton’s Congressman Elijah Hawkins. Hawkins is almost Dodge’s opposite: plainspoken, principled, and committed to the idea that public office should mean public service. Dutton gives the role enough strength that Hawkins does not come across as a bland symbol of virtue. He is not there simply to lecture Johnson. Instead, he demonstrates that integrity and competence can exist within the same institution that has rewarded Dodge’s cynicism. Through these two men, Johnson sees both versions of political life: Dodge shows how power can be abused, while Hawkins shows what it is supposed to accomplish.

That contrast helps the film’s best themes land even when the plot becomes more routine. Johnson starts out believing that public office is just another hustle, only with better benefits and larger payouts. Hawkins gives him a reason to see the job differently, while Dodge proves that the cynicism Johnson brought to Washington is not entirely misplaced. Johnson’s eventual decision to push back against corruption therefore feels earned, even if the film resolves the conflict more neatly than its setup deserves. He does not become an idealist so much as a hustler who finally recognizes that the people above him are running a far bigger and more harmful game.

Viewed now, that idea carries more weight than it did in 1992. George Santos’s rise and eventual expulsion from Congress following repeated revelations about his background and finances offered a modern example of political presentation outpacing public scrutiny. Tommy Tuberville’s move from high-profile college-football coach and broadcaster into the U.S. Senate reflects a different but related reality: name recognition built outside politics can be a major electoral asset. The point is not that either man is literally comparable to Thomas Jefferson Johnson. It is that the film’s basic concern—how easily familiarity and confidence can be mistaken for qualification—has become harder to dismiss as mere comic exaggeration.

The same pattern can be seen beyond Congress. Donald Trump reached the presidency after decades as a celebrity businessman and television personality, while Arnold Schwarzenegger’s worldwide fame as a bodybuilder and movie star became a significant advantage in his successful run for governor of California. Celebrity alone never explains an election, and prior careers in sports or entertainment do not automatically make someone unfit for public office. Still, those examples show why the film’s name-recognition joke now feels more pointed. A highly recognizable candidate begins with a built-in audience, a simple public identity, and the kind of familiarity that many traditional candidates spend years trying to earn.

That dynamic has only become more visible as media personalities from different ideological camps seek office. Television hosts, pundits, podcasters, athletes, entertainers, and online figures can launch campaigns with established audiences, fundraising networks, and brand recognition already in place. In that environment, Johnson’s path to office feels less like an impossible gag and more like a deliberately exaggerated version of a real political tendency. The Distinguished Gentleman is not predicting every modern development, but it understands that voters may attach trust to a familiar name or face before they ask harder questions about qualifications, judgment, or policy.

This added relevance does not erase the film’s flaws. The comedy is still inconsistent, and the lobbyists, politicians, and corporate villains are often broader than they are funny. Murphy can make routine scenes entertaining, particularly when Johnson bluffs through official settings with total confidence despite not knowing the rules. But the movie often settles for familiar Washington stereotypes when it could push its satire further. It is rarely dull, yet it repeatedly avoids the messier implications of its best idea.

Even so, The Distinguished Gentleman remains worth revisiting as a mid-tier Murphy vehicle with more ambition than its reputation suggests. It does not have the comic consistency of Trading Places, the invention of Coming to America, or the effortless momentum of Beverly Hills Cop. Its pharmaceutical-company plot is too conventional, and its ending is more reassuring than genuinely sharp. Yet Murphy gives it a strong center, Dutton and Smith create an effective moral and political contrast, and the premise has gained resonance with time. What began as a funny story about a con man finding his way into Congress now plays as a reminder that political satire becomes less comfortable when reality starts catching up to it.

Brad recommends STRANGER ON HORSEBACK (1955)!

Posted on April 21, 2026 by Bradley Crain

I’m a big fan of westerns made in the 1940’s and 1950’s. I’m also a big fan of the writings of author Louis L’Amour. STRANGER ON HORSEBACK, a 1955 western based on a story by L’Amour, is a good example of why I love both, and it’s currently playing on Amazon Prime, HBOMAX, and Tubi.

STRANGER ON HORSEBACK opens on the traveling Circuit Judge Rick Thorne (Joel McCrea) as he rides his horse into a small western town that seems to be run by the Bannerman family. We hear his thoughts on western justice, and it goes something like this… “a judge needs three things to bring justice to this country; a law book, a horse and a gun. The further west he gets, the less he needs the book.” That’s a L’Amour line if I’ve ever heard one. As soon he gets into town, he finds out from Colonel Buck Streeter (John Carradine) that young Tom Bannerman (Kevin McCarthy) has gunned a local man down and Thorne is determined that the young man face trial for the killing. That doesn’t set too well with Tom’s dad Josiah Bannerman (John McIntire), who bluntly tells the judge that his son will not face trial for murder. After Thorne and the local Sheriff Nat Bell (Emile Meyer) arrest young Tom, it’s just a matter of time before Thorne has to take on the Bannerman clan and their hired guns. Meanwhile, Amy Lee Bannerman (Miroslava), Tom’s cousin, starts making some love moves on the judge. Is she truly falling for the righteous judge, or is she trying to save her cousin’s ass?

Director Jacques Tourneur (CAT PEOPLE, OUT OF THE PAST, WICHITA) has crafted an extremely economical, classic western. Clocking in at just 65 minutes, the story can’t afford to waste any time and gets right to the action. Joel McCrea is perfect as the morally impeccable judge who will face off against impossible odds to make sure young Tom Bannerman goes to trial for murder. Kevin McCarthy is the exact opposite as the arrogant, amoral killer whose family name has protected him all of his life. John McIntire, as the patriarch of the Bannerman family, is as tough as they come and nobody is going to tell him what to do, or hang his son. He’s not necessarily against his son hanging, but as he implies at one point, if anyone’s going to hang my son, it’s going to be me! And Miroslava is awfully cute as the Bannerman who ends up putting her feelings for the judge over the family name. Sadly, the actress would take her own life just after filming this movie.

STRANGER ON HORSEBACK was filmed in Sedona, AZ, which makes for a beautiful backdrop to this combination of western and legal thriller. The fact that McCrea is playing a judge rather than a sheriff is an interesting twist on the classic western story. His primary focus is to make sure Tom Bannerman gets his due process, but still faces a jury for his crimes, and he’ll do anything to make sure that happens. And it doesn’t take him very long to do it, because it felt like there should have been more movie when the words THE END flashed across the screen. I guess I was enjoying myself, because this 65 minute movie felt even shorter than you might expect!

Horror On The Lens: Invitation to Hell (dir by Wes Craven)

Posted on October 27, 2025 by Lisa Marie Bowman

There’s one rule in life that should never be forgotten.

Any movie that opens with Susan Lucci casting a hex that causes a man’s head to explode is going to be worth watching.

That’s certainly the case with Invitation to Hell, a 1984 made-for-TV movie that was directed by Wes Craven and which casts Lucci as Jessica Jones, an insurance agent who lives and works in an upper class suburb in Southern California. Jessica not only sells insurance but she also runs the ultra-exclusive Steaming Springs Country Club! Anyone who is anyone in town is a member of Steaming Springs! That include Matt Winslow (Robert Urich) and his family. Matt soon comes to suspect that something strange might be happening at the club. Fortunately, Matt’s spacesuit comes with a flame thrower, a laser, and a built-in computer that can determine whether or not someone is actually a human being. (Wearing the space helmet means viewing the world like you’re the Terminator.) Soon, it’s science vs. magic as Matt dons the suit and tries to rescue his family from country club living!

Totally ludicrous and a lot of fun, this is a film that has a little bit for everyone — familiar television actors, flamethrowers, space suits, demonic possession, exploding cars, and even a little bit of social satire as the film suggests that living in the suburbs is a terror even without weird country clubs and chic spell casters.

Retro Television Review: Fantasy Island 7.11 “Games People Play/The Sweet Life”

Posted on September 23, 2025 by Lisa Marie Bowman

Welcome to Retro Television Reviews, a feature where we review some of our favorite and least favorite shows of the past! On Tuesdays, I will be reviewing the original Fantasy Island, which ran on ABC from 1977 to 1984. Unfortunately, the show has been removed from most streaming sites. Fortunately, I’ve got nearly every episode on my DVR.

“Smiles, everyone …. SMILES, DAMMIT!”

Episode 7.11 “Games People Play/The Sweet Life”

(Dir by Cliff Bole and Don Weiss, originally aired on January 14th, 1984)

Three women who all work for a toy company come to Fantasy Island. Nora Leonard (Lynda Day George) has closed off her heart after getting hurt in too many past relationships. Barbara Jessup (Jenilee Harrison) wants her boss to look past her appearance and realize that she really does have a brain to go with her beauty. Sandy Hoffman (Berlinda Tolbert) wants to have the courage to present her ideas….

Oh hey, it’s a Wizard of Oz thing! Except it’s not. There’s no Dorothy and there’s no Toto. There’s a corporate spy named Steven Curry (John McCook), who wants the details of the company’s new video game and who also falls for Nora. And there’s Dick York as Mr. Sutton, who wears a bowtie as all toy company execs do.

What there is not is an interesting fantasy. Even with three separate fantasies in one, this storyline was pretty blah. Everyone seemed a bit bored, even the usually dependable Lynda Day George.

The other fantasy was slightly more interesting, but only because it featured the great character actor Kevin McCarthy as Daniel Koster. Daniel wanted to give his wife and his children the lifestyle they could have had if Daniel had been rich. In fact, Daniel sent his family to Fantasy Island ahead of him so that they could enjoy being rich without him around. (What?) I was always under the impression that guests at the Island only stayed for a weekend. Daniel comes to the Island and discovers that his family appears to be very happy, even if his son is still writing bad poetry. (There’s no money in poetry, Daniel gruffly explains and, as a poet, I can say that’s very true.) Along with his son’s rhyming habits, Daniel has other things to deal with, like his bad heart.

In fact, Daniel dies of a heart attack while on the Island but not before realizing that his family always loved him, even if they weren’t rich. Having Daniel die was depressing. What made it even worse is that Roarke apparently knew Daniel was probably going to die on the Island but he didn’t really seem to do anything to try to prevent it from happening. Instead, he just made a bunch of cryptic comments to Lawrence about how Daniel’s weekend on Fantasy Island could be his last. Lawrence looked concerned but didn’t do anything to help. Why is Lawrence even there?

Eh, this episode. I always enjoy watching Kevin McCarthy and he gives a typically solid performance but otherwise, this was a disappointing trip to the Island.

The Unnominated #14: Kansas City Bomber (dir by Jerrold Freedman)

Posted on April 15, 2025 by Lisa Marie Bowman

Though the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences claim that the Oscars honor the best of the year, we all know that there are always worthy films and performances that end up getting overlooked. Sometimes, it’s because the competition too fierce. Sometimes, it’s because the film itself was too controversial. Often, it’s just a case of a film’s quality not being fully recognized until years after its initial released. This series of reviews takes a look at the films and performances that should have been nominated but were, for whatever reason, overlooked. These are the Unnominated.

In 1972’s Kansas City Bomber, Raquel Welch stars as KC Carr.

KC. is a star on the roller derby circuit, a tough fighter who is loved by the audience and who shows no fear when it comes to skating around the track and getting into brawls with the other team. The audience especially loves it when she fights Jackie Burdette (Helena Kallianiotes), madly cheering over every punch landed and every elbow thrown and every strand of hair pulled. It’s not glamorous work but KC loves the adulation of the crowds and the comradery of her team. She’s a single mother and putting on roller skates and getting bruised in fights allows her to support her daughter, Rita (a pre-Taxi Driver Jodie Foster).

But then KC is traded to another team, the Portland Loggers. It takes KC a while to fit in with her new team. She’s viewed with suspicion, especially when she starts to date the owner of the team, Burt Henry (Kevin McCarthy). Burt may seem charming but KC soon discovers that he has a jealous side. When KC spends too much time with her best friend and roommate, Burt trades her to another team. When a male skater named “Horrible” Hank (Norman Alden) reveals that he has a rather obvious crush on KC, Burt goes out of his way to humiliate Hank. Burt wants to start a new team in Chicago and he’s promised to make KC a star. Will KC give up her own freedom to be Burt’s well-compensated star or will she stand up for herself and show that she doesn’t belong to anyone?

You already know the answer. The wonderful thing about Raquel Welch is that she was tough. She didn’t let people push her around and, if that resulted in people in Hollywood whispering that she was difficult, so be it. Like KC Carr, Raquel Welch didn’t make any apologies. Kansas City Bomber is one of the few of Welch’s early 70s films to celebrate and show how just how tough she was. For once, Welch is given an actual character to play and she proves herself to be a strong and fierce actress. It’s fun and more than a little empowering to watch her performance here. Everyone underestimates KC Carr, just as everyone underestimated Raquel Welch. In both cases, the doubters are proven wrong.

Kansas City Bomber is not a great film. (The pacing is totally off and the supporting characters are not quite as memorable as either Welch or Kevin McCarthy.) But Raquel Welch gave a great performance. That Welch was never Oscar-nominated isn’t really a surprise. She didn’t appear in the type of movies that received Oscar attention and she was often cast in roles that didn’t give her much of an opportunity to show off what she could do. She definitely deserved a nomination for Kansas City Bomber.

Previous entries in The Unnominated:

Film Review: Buffalo Bill and the Indians, or Sitting Bull’s History Lesson (dir by Robert Altman)

Posted on February 20, 2025 by Lisa Marie Bowman

1976’s Buffalo Bill and the Indians, or Sitting Bull’s History Lesson takes place in the waning years of the Old West. Civilization is coming to America and the “wild” west’s days are numbered. And yet, even as the days of outlaws and gunslingers come to an end, America is already in the process of building up its own mythology.

Buffalo Bill (Paul Newman) owns a popular wild west show, one where his stars put on a show that claims to recreate the great moments of western history. The show is made up of a motely collection of performers, some of whom are more talented than others. This is a Robert Altman film and, as usual, the emphasis is more on watching how his large ensemble of actors interact as opposed to highlighting any one actor. Indeed, it can be hard to keep everyone in the film straight and one gets the feeling that this was intentional on Altman’s part. Buffalo Bill and the Indians may be a revisionist western and a satire of American history but it’s also a showbiz film. The emphasis is on people continually coming and going, sticking around long enough to either prove their worth as a performer or moving on to a hopefully more receptive audience.

Geraldine Chaplin plays Annie Oakley, the sharp shooter who takes joy in firing her gun and who barely seems to notice that her husband (John Considine) is terrified of getting shot. Joel Grey serves as the unflappable manager of the show while Harvey Keitel is miscast as Buffalo Bill’s somewhat nerdy assistant. (Keitel, with his natural intensity, seems like he’s desperately waiting for a chance to explode, a chance that never really comes.) Burt Lancaster plays Ned Buntline, the writer who made Buffalo Bill into a celebrity and who provides a somewhat sardonic commentary as Bill’s current activities. Shelley Duvall shows up as the wife of President Grover Cleveland (played by Pat McCormick), who comes to the show and is amused until an Indian points a gun towards the president.

Throughout it all, Buffalo Bill enjoys his fame and pushes his vision of the Old West on those who come to see his show. Newman plays Bill as being a blowhard, an eccentric who is obsessed with opera and whose entire persona is a fake. He can’t shoot straight. He can barely ride a horse. His trademark long hair is actually a wig. The only people who take Bill seriously as those who come to see his show. Those who know him view him as being a buffoon but they also understand that he’s a very successful and very famous buffoon and that ultimately matters more than any sort of historical truth.

What conflict there is in the film occurs when Sitting Bull (Frank Kaquitts) and his translator (Will Sampson) arrive on the scene. Sitting Bull has agreed to appear in the show but only under his own terms. Buffalo Bill grows frustrated with Sitting Bull and his refusal to pretend to be a savage but he also knows that this audience wants to see the last remaining great Indian chief.

It’s a big and sprawling film and it’s really not entirely successful. Altman was an intelligent director who was willing to take risks and no one deserves more credit for popularizing the idea of the ensemble film. That said, he could also be a bit heavy-handed and that’s certainly the case here. It takes a certain amount of courage to cast a star like Paul Newman as a thoroughly unlikable character and it also took a bit of courage on Newman’s part to give the performance that he did. At the same time, neither the shallow Buffalo Bill nor the dignified Sitting Bull are really compelling enough characters to carry a film that runs for more than two hours. The film’s message is an obvious one and it’s also one that Altman handled in a much more memorable way with Nashville.

That said, the film is a memorable misfire. It’s at its best when it abandons the politics and just concentrates on the community of performers that popular Buffalo Bill’s show. The film’s best moments are not the ones with Paul Newman growling but instead the ones with John Considine hoping that Geraldine Chaplin won’t accidentally shoot him. As with many of Altman’s film, Buffalo Bill and the Indians works best when it focuses on the misfit community at the center of its story.

Retro Television Review: Mary Jane Harper Cried Last Night (dir by Allen Reisner)

Posted on May 12, 2024 by Lisa Marie Bowman

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 the made-for-television movies that used to be a primetime mainstay. Today’s film is 1977’s Mary Jane Harper Cried Last Night! It can be viewed on YouTube.

Damn.

I mean, seriously! I have seen some depressing films before but nothing could have quite prepared me for Mary Jane Harper Cried Last Night.

Susan Dey stars as Rowena, a young single mother whose 3 year-old daughter, Mary Jane Harper (Natasha Ryan), is taken to the hospital with a broken arm. Dr. Angela Buccieri (Tricia O’Neil) doesn’t believe Rowena’s claim that Mary Jane is just accident prone and when she discovers what appears to be cigarette burns on the little girl, Dr. Buccieri goes to the head of pediatrics (played by veteran screen villain John Vernon) and requests a full set of X-rays to see if there are any previously healed injuries. Buccieri’s request is denied. It turns out that Rowena comes from a wealthy family and her father (Kevin McCarthy) is a trustee of the hospital. Even after Dr. Buccieri opens up about her own experiences as an abused child, she is told to drop the matter.

She doesn’t drop it. Instead, she goes to a social worker named Dave Williams (Bernie Casey). Dave does his own investigation but none of Rowena’s neighbors want to talk about all of the crying and the screaming that they hear coming from Rowena’s apartment. Rowena presents herself as being a stressed but loving mother. Dave suggests a support group that she can attend. When Rowena goes to the group, she opens up a little about how overwhelmed she feels. Unfortunately, she leaves Mary Jane in the apartment alone and, when a fire breaks out, Mary Jane is lucky to survive.

As intense as all of that is, it’s also only the first half of the movie. The second half is even more intense and emotionally draining and it all leads up to one of the most devastating final lines ever uttered in a movie. Throughout the film, the system fails both Rowena and Mary Jane. Mary Jane is failed when all of the evidence of the abuse that she has suffered is either ignored or shrugged away by the same people who are supposed to be looking out for her. Rowena is failed when no one pays attention to her obvious emotional instability. When she finally does have a breakthrough during a therapy session, her psychiatrist (played by James Karen) curtly tells her that they’ll have to talk about it next week because their hour is up.

Rowena is a character who I both hated and pitied. Like many abusers, she herself was a victim of abuse. Even when Rowena tries to get support, no one wants to admit that a mother is capable of abusing their own child. That said, Mary Jane Harper is at the center of the film. She’s a little girl who is desperate to be loved by a woman who often terrifies her. She is continually failed by the people who should be looking after her and it’s just devastating to watch. I’m sure I’m not the only person who was moved to tears by this film.

What a sad film. At the same time, it’s also an important one. If the film takes place at a time when no one wanted to admit to the abuse happening before their eyes, we now live in a time when people toss around allegations of abuse so casually that it’s led to a certain cynicism about the whole thing. Even when seen today, Mary Jane Harper Cried Last Night works as a powerful plea to watch out and care for one another.

Horror Film Review: The Howling (dir by Joe Dante)

Posted on October 30, 2023 by Lisa Marie Bowman

The 1981 film, The Howling, takes place at The Colony.

The Colony is a lovely place, a nice resort out in the middle of the countryside. It’s a place that celebrity therapist George Waggener (Patrick Macnee) sends his clients so that they can recover from trauma. It’s a bit of a grown-up version of the ranch to which Dr. Phil used to send juvenile delinquents. Of course, the Colony is full of adults and they’re an eccentric bunch. I mean, one of them — named Erle Kenton — is actually played by John Carradine! That’s just how eccentric the place is. Sheriff Sam Newfield (Slim Pickens) keeps an eye on the place but everyone knows that there’s nothing to worry about when it comes to The Colony. Dr. Waggner does good work.

Karen White (Dee Wallace) is a Los Angeles news anchor who was held hostage by a serial killer named Eddie Quist (Robert Picardo). While she was with Eddie, she was forced to not only watch videos of Eddie’s crimes but she also saw something happen with Eddie that terrified her to such an extent that she has blocked it from her mind. Karen was rescued by the police but she is haunted by nightmares. Dr. Waggner arranges for Karen and her husband, Bill Neill (Christopher Stone, who was married to Dee Wallace when they co-starred in this film), to spend some time at the Colony.

Bill loves the Colony, especially after he attracts the eye of Marsha (Elisabeth Brooks), the resort’s resident seductress. Karen, however, is less enamored of the place. The Colony feels off to her and she’s not happy about the howling in the distance or the fact that Bill has suddenly started to grow distant from her. Could it be that The Colony is actually crawling with werewolves and that Bill has become one of them? (It’s totally possible and, to The Howling‘s credit, it doesn’t waste any time letting us know that.) Karen’s friend, Terry Fisher (Belinda Balanski), and her boyfriend, Chris Halloran (Dennis Dugan), do some research of their own into Eddie Quist, The Colony, and whether or not werewolves exists and they meet a helpful bookstore owner named Walter Paisley (Dick Miller).

To understand the approach that director Joe Dante and screenwriter John Sayles take to The Howling, one needs to only consider the names of some of the characters. George Waggner. Bill Neill. Terry (which can be short for Terence) Fisher. Fred (or is that Freddie) Francis. Erle Kenton. Sam Newfield. Jerry Warren. All of these characters are named after horror film directors. This is the type of werewolf film where Chris Halloran has a copy of The Three Little Pigs sitting on his desk. Veteran actors like Kevin McCarthy, John Carradine, Slim Pickens, and Kenneth Tobey show up in small roles. Roger Corman mainstay Dick Miller plays yet another character named Walter Paisley and he kicks Forrest J. Ackerman out of his bookstore. Roger Corman himself plays a man making a phone call. After a werewolf is shot on live TV, the program immediately cuts to a dog food commercial and we see a blank-faced child telling his unconcerned parents that someone just turned into a wolf. The Howling was made by people who obviously love B-horror and that love is present in every frame of the film.

Like Dante’s Piranha, The Howling is a film with a sense of humor but it’s not a comedy. The werewolves are still impressive, even forty-two years after the film was first released. The character of Eddie Quist (“I’m going to give you a piece of my mind”) is a terrifying monster and the sight of his signature smiley face will fill you with dread, especially when it shows up in a place where it really shouldn’t be. The film cynically ends on a note of noble sacrifice that will apparently not make much difference, with the suggestion being that human beings are either too distracted or too jaded to realize that there are monsters among them. The Howling is a fast-paced and well-directed homage to B-horror and it’s still terrifically entertaining.

Retro Television Reviews: A Great American Tragedy (dir by J. Lee Thompson)

Posted on August 20, 2023 by Lisa Marie Bowman

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 the made-for-television movies that used to be a primetime mainstay. Today’s film is 1972’s A Great American Tragedy! It can be viewed on YouTube!

Brad Wilkes (George Kennedy) had a good career, working as an aerospace engineer. He was able to buy a nice house. With his wife, Gloria (Vera Miles), he was able to raise a good family. He was even able to buy a sailboat, one that is the pride of the entire marina. But then, one day, he’s told that the company is letting him go.

Returning to his home, Brad tells Gloria that he’s lost his job but that everything’s going to be okay because not only does he have a $10,000 pension but he’s sure he can find a new job. “Of course, I might not be making $35,000 a year….” he says.

(Watching at home, I said, “Pfffft! I make more than that!” But, of course, Brad is talking about $35,000 in 1972 money, which would be the equivalent of a quarter of a million today.)

However, Brad soon discovers that getting a new job will not be as easy as he assumed. It turns out that there are a lot of people out there looking for work and most of them are younger, cheaper, and better educated than Brad. The bills start to pile up. His former boss (Robert Mandan) informs Brad that his pension is going to be $7,000 less than he thought. Brad forces himself to go down to the unemployment office so that he can collect $25 a week and then suffers the humiliation of being offered a loan by his well-meaning son-in-law (played by a youngish James Woods). Gloria gets a job at the same clothing store where she used to shop and her lecherous boss (Kevin McCarthy) starts to hit on her.

For Brad, the final humiliation comes when he has to sell the boat. A younger boat owner (Tony Dow, with a huge mustache) puts Brad in contact with a woman named Paula (Natalie Trundy). Paula wants to buy the boat and, after they take it out on the water, Brad finds himself tempted to cheat on his wife. It all gets to be too much for Brad and soon, he’s on a plane to Nevada where hopefully one good night at the craps table will be enough to pay his bills….

Watching this film, I found myself feeling very sorry for Brad while, at the same time, becoming very frustrated with him. On the one hand, his company tossed him out after years of loyal service and then tried to screw him out of his pension. On the other hand, Brad spent almost the entire movie in denial about how bad things actually were. It’s one thing to be proud and it’s another to just be stubborn. Knowing that he has next to no money, Brad still insists on throwing his annual 4th of July party and he even invites his former boss to come over and celebrate. Brad simply cannot bring himself to admit that his old life is over but really, who can blame him? He’s not the one who chose to be fired.

A Great American Tragedy was directed by J. Lee Thompson, who also did Cape Fear, The Guns of Navarone, the Planet of the Apes sequels, and several Charles Bronson films. There are no fight scenes to be found in A Great American Tragedy but Thompson does get good performances from his cast and the film makes great use of George Kennedy’s likability. The viewer remains sympathetic to Brad, even when he makes mistake after mistake. A film about a formerly secure family suddenly discovering just how much the economy sucks, A Great American Tragedy remains just as a relevant today as when it was first made.