Film Reviews: The Airport Terminal Pack


 Sometimes, you have to be careful which films you choose to watch over the course of the day. 

Such as, last Friday night, I heard the news that Jill Clayburgh had died and I ended up watching An Unmarried Woman.  This, along with the fact that I also watched the Black Swan trailer, led to me dancing around the house in my underwear, en pointe in bare feet, and doing a half-assed pirouette in the living room.  And I felt pretty proud of myself until I woke up Saturday morning and my ankle (which I don’t think has ever properly healed from the day, seven years ago, that I fell down a flight of stairs and broke it in two places) literally felt like it was on fire.  That was my body’s way of saying, “You ain’t living in a movie, bitch.  Deal with it.”

So, come Sunday, I decided to play it safe by watching something that I was sure wouldn’t lead to any imitative behavior on my part.  Since I had previously reviewed Earthquake on this site, I decided that I would devote some time to the movies that started the entire 1970s disaster movie genre — Airport.  Watching Airport led to me watching Airport’s three sequels.

I was able to do this largely because I own the Airport Terminal Pack, a two-disk DVD collection that contains all four of the Airport films and nothing else.  There’s no special features or commentary tracks.  That’s probably a good thing because these films are so extremely mainstream that I doubt the commentary tracks would be all that interesting except to people who love “Me and Jennings Lang had the same lawyer…” style stories.

The movies are a mixed bag of ’70s sexism, mainstream greed, and casts that were described as being “all-star” despite the fact that they featured very few stars.  They’re all worth watching as time capsules of a past time.  Some of them are just more worthy than others.

Below are my thoughts on each individual film in the collection…

Airport (directed by George Seaton)

First released in 1970, Airport was nominated for 10 Academy Awards (including best picture), broke box office records, and started the whole 70s disaster movie trend.  It also has to be one of the most boring, borderline unwatchable movies ever made.  The fact that I managed to sit through the whole thing should be taken as proof that I’m either truly dedicated to watching movies or I’m just insane.  Take your pick.

Anyway, the film is painstakingly detailed account of the every day operations of an airport.  Yeah, sounds like a lot of fun, doesn’t it?  Burt Lancaster runs the airport.  His brother-in-law Dean Martin flies airplanes.  Both of them have mistresses but we’re told that’s okay because Lancaster’s wife expects him to talk to her and Martin’s wife is cool with him fucking around as long as he comes home at night.  I would be tempted to say that this is a result of the film having been made in 1969 and released in 1970 but actually, it’s just an introduction to the sexual politics of the typical disaster film.  Men save the day while women get in the way.  And if you think things have changed, I’d suggest you watch a little film calledf 2012…

The only interesting thing about the film is that Lancaster’s mistress is played by Jean Seberg who, ten years earlier, had helped change film history by co-starring in Jean-Luc Godard’s classic film Breathless.  Nine years later, after years of being hounded by the American press and the FBI for her radical politics, Seberg committed suicide.

Airport 1975 (directed by Jack Smight)

As opposed to its predecessor, Airport 1975 is actually a lot of fun in its campy, silly way.  This is the one where a small private plane (flown by Dana Andrews, the star of the wonderful film noir Laura) collides with a commercial airliner.  The entire flight crew is taken out and head stewardess Karen Black has to pilot the plane despite the fact that she’s obviously cross-eyed.  Luckily, since Black is a stewardess, she has a pilot boyfriend who is played by Charlton Heston.  Heston talks her through the entire flight despite the fact that she was earlier seen trying to pressure him into not treating her like an idiot.  Anyway, Heston does his usual clench-jaw thing and if you need a drinking game to go with your bad movie, just take a shot every time Heston calls Black “honey.”  You’ll be drunk before the plane lands.

There’s some other stuff going on in this movie (for instance, Gloria Swanson appears as “herself” and doesn’t mention Sunset Boulevard or Joseph Kennedy once!) but really, all you need to know is that this is the film where Karen Black acts up a storm and random characters keep saying, “The stewardess is flying the plane!?”

Odd trivia fact: Airport 1975 was released in 1974.

Airport ’77 (directed by Jerry Jameson)

In Airport ’77, a group of art thieves attempt to hijack an airplane which, of course, leads to the airplane crashing into the ocean and somehow sinking down to the ocean’s floor without splitting apart.  The crash survivors have to try to figure out how to get to the surface of the water before they run out of oxygen. 

In this case, our resident sexist pilot is Jack Lemmon who has a really ugly mustache.  He wants to marry head stewardess Brenda Vaccarro.  Vaccarro doesn’t understand why they have to get married to which Lemmon responds, “Because I want a wife and kids!”  The film also gives us Lee Grant as a woman who is married to Christopher Lee but who is having an affair with another man.  She also drinks a lot and dares to get angry when she realizes that the airplane is underwater.  While this sort of behavior is acceptable from Dean Martin, Charlton Heston, and Jack Lemmon, the film punishes Lee Grant by drowning her in the final minutes.

Technically, Airport ’77 is probably the best of the Airport films.  The cast does a pretty good job with all the melodrama, the film doesn’t drag, and a few of the scenes manage to generate something resembling human emotion.  (For instance, when the blind piano player died, I had a tear in one of my freaky, mismatched eyes.)  Unfortunately, the movie’s almost too good.  It’s not a lot of fun.  Everyone plays their roles straight so the silly plot never quite descends into camp and the key to a good disaster film is always camp.  This film also has the largest body count of the series, with most of the cast dead by the end of the movie.  (And, incidentally, this film did nothing to help me with my fear of water…)

The Concorde: Airport ’79 (directed by David Lowell Rich)

The last Airport movie is also the strangest.  Some people have claimed that this film was meant to be a satire of the previous Airport films.  I can understand the argument because you look at film like Concorde and you say, “This must be a joke!”  However, the problem with this theory is that there are moments of obvious “intentional” humor in this film (i.e., J.J. from Good Times smokes weed in the plane’s bathroom, another passenger has to go to the bathroom whenever she gets nervous) and none of them show any evidence of the type of wit and outlook necessary to come up with anything this silly on purpose.  Add to that, the film’s story is credited to Jennings Lang, a studio executive.  Studio execs do not take chances.  (Plus, the actual script was written by Eric Roth, who went on to write the amazingly humorless The Curious Case of Benjamin Button).

No, this film is meant to be taken seriously and oh my God, where do I start?

Our pilots are George Kennedy and Alain Delon.  The head stewardess (and naturally, Delon’s girlfiend) is played by Sylvia “Emanuelle” Kristel who, at one point, says, “You pilots are such men!”  “Hey, they don’t call it a cockpit for nothing, honey,” Kennedy replies. 

Meanwhile, Robert Wagner is trying to destroy the Concorde because one of the passengers is his girlfriend who has proof that Wagner has been selling weapons to America’s enemies.  So, he attempts to blow the plane up with a guided missile and when that fails, he sends a couple of fighter planes after them.  Kennedy responds by opening up the cockpit window — while breaking the sound barrier mind you — and firing a flare gun at their pursuers.  

After this, there’s stop over in Paris where Delon arranges for Kennedy to sleep with a prostitute who assures Kennedy that he made love “just like a happy fish.”

The next day, everyone returns to the exact same Concorde — despite the fact that just a day earlier they’d nearly been blown up by a squadron of fighter planes — and take off on the second leg of the flight.  Let me repeat that just to make sure that we all understand what this film is asking us to believe.  After nearly getting blown up by a mysterious squad of fighter planes, everybody shows up the next morning to get on the exact same plane.

Oh, and it never occurs to Wagner’s ex-girlfriend that Wagner might have something to do with all of this.

Now sad to say, Concorde is the one of those films that’s a lot more fun to talk about than to actually watch.  It should be a lot more fun in its badness than it actually is.  Still, the movie has just enough camp appeal to make it fun in a “what the fuck…” sorta way.

And that’s how the Airport series comes to an end.

6 Trailers In Rememberance of Lisa Marie’s Youth


This edition of Lisa Marie’s Favorite Grindhouse and Exploitation Trailers is a sentimental  and sad occasion for me.  I’m a Scorpio (and, seriously, who is shocked to hear that, right?).  What that means is that I’ve got a birthday coming up this Tuesday.  I’ll be turning 25.  I’ll be a quarter of a century old.  So, this will be my last installment of this series as a young woman.  Next weekend, when I post the next installment, I’ll be an adult.

Unfortunately, I didn’t really think about this until I’d already selected my trailers for this installment.  So, I wish I could say that there’s some sort of deep meaning behind why I picked any of these posts.  But there’s not, with the exception of I Drink Your Blood.  And my selection of I Drink Your Blood has less to do with my birthday and more with the fact that it’s the 17th greatest movie ever made.

Anyway, let’s get to the trailers and try not to think about the fact that I’m getting old…

1) Food of the Gods

Two things I love about the trailer: the pompous opening 40 seconds (I loved it when Exploitation mocks the Mainstream through imitation) and the presence of Marjoe “Bad, not evil” Gortner.

2) Tintorera

This is the Mexican version of Jaws.  Not only was it directed by the infamous Rene Cardona, Jr. but it stars the original HUGO STIGLITZ! 

3) Prisoner of Paradise

Prisoner of Paradise (which I have never seen) is apparently a hardcore war film from the 70s that starred John C. Holmes’s cock.  The star does not appear in this trailer.  Instead, we get things blowing up followed by something else blowing up which is followed up by something — wait for it — blowing up.  And then, suddenly, we’re on the beach.

4) Machine Gun McCain

Speaking of blowing things up…Machine Gun McCain is one of the many Italian crime thrillers that came out in the late 60s.  They were not only far more violent than American thrillers but usually a lot more interesting too.  Earlier on Saturday, I bought this movie on DVD.  The guy working the register looked at it and said, “I’d watch this first because Britt Ekland’s in it.” 

5) Hell’s Bloody Devils

While the Italians were exploiting the Mafia, Americans were exploiting motorcycle gangs.  Hell’s Bloody Devils is a typical example with a typically 1970 political subtext.  It was directed by Al Adamson who, years later, was apparently murdered and buried in cement.

6) I Drink Your Blood

I Drink Your Blood was released on a double bill with an old black-and-white zombie films called I Eat Your Skin.  All the  scenes in the trailer below are from I Drink Your Blood.  I love the trailer because it is just classic grindhouse.  However, I Drink Your Blood is also one of the best films ever made.  The 18th best, to tell the truth.  Seriously.

A Quickie With Lisa Marie: Earthquake (dir. by Mark Robson)


Since it’s impossible for me to talk about anything without somehow relating it to a movie, I guess it makes sense that my reaction to San Francisco winning the World Series was to write a review of the award-winning, 1974 disaster film Earthquake.  If the Rangers had won, I would have been obligated to write up a review of No Country For Old Men.

But anyway, Earthquake…

So, Earthquake is one of those movies from the 70s in which a large group of different characters had to deal with some sort of cataclysmic disaster that could, in theory, have happened in reality as well as up on the movie screen.  There were apparently about 2,000,000 of these films made between 1970 and 1980 and they all had titles like Hurricane, Tornado, Big Fire, Asbestos, Flash Flood, Lava Flow, Khardashian, Avalanche, and, of course, Earthquake.  These movies always featured an “all-star” cast of people that nobody had ever actually heard of and I guess part of the fun was trying to guess who would survive and who would die.  Apparently, they were the 1970s version of Dancing With The Stars.  Call it Dying With Celebrities.

Earthquake is one of best known of these films.  Apparently, it made a lot of money in 1974 and it won Academy Awards for its earthquake effects.  Bleh.  Whatever.  Have you ever really sat down and looked at a list of the movies that have won at least one Academy Award since they first started handing those things out?  Earthquake is like a 6 hour movie and Los Angeles doesn’t start shaking until halfway through.  The Earthquake itself only lasts for 15 minutes and it’s kind of impressive to watch but it’s 15 minutes out of 360.

Before the earthquake hits, we get to meet the usual cross-section of humanity.  Charlton Heston is an architect who is married to Ava Gardner who is the daughter of Heston’s boss, who is played by an actor named Lorne Greene who appears to be younger than either Heston or Gardner.  Heston has a mistress who is played by Genevieve Bujold who is really pretty, sweet, and boring.  Gardner is none of these things but she is a foul-mouthed alcoholic who fakes suicide attempts so I was pretty much on her side as far as the whole love triangle is concerned.  After the Earthquake, Heston and Greene and a bunch of accident-prone extras are stuck in the ruins of sky scraper.  Heston grimaces a lot in this film but you know what?  Say what you will about Charlton Heston’s politics or his clenched-teeth acting style, the man knew how to wear an ascot.

While Heston is torn between Gardner and Bujold (a plot development that reportedly inspired the famous Sartre play No Exit), Richard Roundtree just wants to jump over stuff on his motorcycle.  That’s right — John Shaft is in this movie and we can dig it.  He’s a professional daredevil.  He’s also a surprisingly dull actor.  Who would have guessed that, without a theme song playing, Shaft would turn out to be so boring?  Still, there’s a really cool scene where Roundtree tries to ride his motorcycle through Los Angeles in the middle of the earthquake and the film is worth watching for his all-flare stunt daredevil costume if nothing else.  Plus, Roundtree’s playing a character named Miles here and I like that name.

There’s another subplot.  It involves George Kennedy as a blue-collar cop who does what he has to do to try to maintain the peace before and after the Earthquake.  Bleh.  I mean, Kennedy actually gives a pretty good performance and he’s probably the most likable character in the film but seriously — Bleh.

And finally, this collection of humanity is rounded out by an aspiring actress (played by actress Victoria Principal who, four years earlier, had made history by being the first woman to successfully seduce actor Anthony Perkins and no, I don’t want to go into how I know that) and the psychopathic grocery store manager who is obsessed with her.  The grocery store manager is played by former child evangelist and 70s exploitation icon Marjoe Gortner.  Much as in the later film Starcrash, Gortner projects a remarkably unlikable vibe that works well for his character.  He also has a really bad perm and a mustache and his performance is so sublimely bad that it’s actually pretty good.  As for Principal, her character here is apparently the owner of 1974’s most ginormous afro and, like most women in the 70s, really should have considered wearing a bra.  It’s hard to really judge Principal’s performance because any time she’s on-screen, you just start thinking, “Oh my God, she had sex with Norman Bates but somehow, she thinks she’s too good for Marjoe Gortner?” 

These are the characters that we follow as Los Angeles is destroyed on-screen.  None of them are really much more than cardboard cut outs but there’s something oddly comforting about how shallow and predictable they all are.  Add to that, most of them end up dead so if you do dislike them, you’ll find a lot to enjoy.  You’ll especially enjoy the film’s final few moments unless, like me, you can’t swim and you’re terrified of drowning.  If you’re like me, that scene might give you nightmares. 

Flawed as it may be, I still have to recommend this movie as 1) a time capsule and 2) as a quintessential piece of American camp.  Every line of dialogue, every performance, every image, and every scene in Earthquake simply screams 1974.   I guess the best way to look at Earthquake is to think about it as if the movie’s a time machine.  You might not like where the machine takes you but you’re still going to get into the damn thing and, once you find yourself stuck in Iowa in the year 1835, you’ll find someway to force yourself to be entertained because otherwise, you’re just hanging out in Iowa in 1835.

Celebrate Halloween with Ms. 45!


Happy Halloween!

In honor of the holiday, here’s a Halloween-themed clip from one of the greatest films ever made — Ms. 45, the movie that proved that the Grindhouse is often more sincerely pro-woman than the mainstream.

(Big spoiler warning: This scene is actually the end of the film so if you’re the type of little toadsucker that’s always crying “You should have warned me boo hoo,” consider yourself warned.)

A Quickie With Lisa Marie: Prom Night (Directed by Paul Lynch)


As I mentioned in another post, my sister Erin and I spent Tuesday night watching the Killer Party Marathon on Chiller.  One of the movies we saw was the original 1980 Prom Night, starring Jamie Lee Curtis and directed by Paul Lynch.  Prom Night, of course, was remade two years ago with cross-eyed dumbfug Brittany Snow as the star.  If, like me before Tuesday night, you’re only familiar with the tepid and bland remake than the original Prom Night is a surprise indeed.

The original Prom Night is an old school slasher film, one of the many that came out in the two years immediately after Halloween.  It even stars the star of Halloween, Jamie Lee Curtis.  Prom Night also stars a lot of Canadians because it was one of the many low-budget B-movies that was made in Canada in the early 80s.  Apparently, Canada was offering tax breaks to film companies willing to shoot up north.  Several web sites have said that the setting is obviously Canadian but I couldn’t really tell.  Of course, I’m from Texas.  Anything above Arkansas looks like Canada to me.

Plotwise, the film is pretty much your traditional old school slasher film.  There’s a terrible tragedy in the past, an innocent man is blamed for it, and ten years later, teenagers end up getting killed at some communal event.  In this case, the tragedy is the death of a young girl who is killed during a truly demonic game of tag.  The children responsible for her death lie about what happened and a disfigured drifter is convicted and imprisoned for her murder.  As for the communal event, in this case, it’s prom night.  The killer stalks the prom, which is what I suggested my classmates call our prom way back when.  They disagreed and that’s their loss.  The Killer Stalks The Prom would have been a story to remember.

Anyway, here’s a few random thoughts about the original Prom:

1) As with all old school slasher films, it’s interesting to see just how much of the early products of this all-American genre borrowed from the Italian giallo genre.   Everything from the elaborate, past tragedy to the black gloves worn by the killer to the attempts to keep audiences guessing who the killer actually is to even the supporting character of the burned out cop simply screams giallo.  The main thing that the Americans brought to the giallo format was the idea of having the murders revolve around a previously innocent gathering or holiday.

2) Especially when compared to recent “slasher” films, Prom Night is a relentlessly grim film.  Prom Night’s killer doesn’t waste any time with comic relief or one-liners.  He’s too busy savagely killing people.  And our victims aren’t the usual collection of bimbos and soulless jocks.  No, this is the type of movie where even the token virgin ends up getting her throat ripped out with a gigantic shard of glass.  There’s not a lot of deaths in Prom Night, just six.  But they all hurt.

3) I usually just think of Jamie Lee Curtis as the crazy woman selling Activia on Lifetime but this movie shows that she’s actually a pretty good actress.  Even working with a script that isn’t exactly full of brilliant dialogue or multi-faceted characters, Curtis is a sympathetic, likable, and most of all, believable heroine (which is all the more remarkable when you consider that she, like everyone else in this film, appears to be far-too old to still be worrying about the prom).  She even manages to make the film’s ending rather touching and even poignant.  And how many slasher films can you say that about?

4) Prom Night is as much about tacky — yet insanely catchy — disco music as it is about spilling blood.  Seriously, if I owned the soundtrack to this film, I would listen to it 24/7 for two years straight.  I’d force all of my friends to listen to it too and eventually we’d all go insane and just spend the rest of our lives wandering around going, “Prom night!  Everything is alright!”

5) One last thing — Prom Night showcases what has to be the most believable, cheap, and tasteless prom ever put on film.  The theme is Disco Madness and the students are all very chic in that way that even they know will be painfully dated in another two years.  Indeed, this is one of the rare films that understands that the perfect prom is nothing less than an unintentional camp spectacular.  For someone like me who, as the result of seeing too many episodes of Saved By The Bell: The New Class, grew up with an unrealistic expectation of what the senior prom would be, the original Prom Night remains a refreshing breath of fresh air even 30 years after it was made.

And always remember: “Prom Night!  Everything is all right…”

Scenes I Love: Prom Night (1980)


So, it was Tuesday night and me and Erin were watching the Killer Party movie marathon on Chiller and what should happen to come on but Prom Night?  No, not the really crappy Brittany Snow film that came out two years ago.  This was the original Prom Night, the one from 1980 that starred Jamie Lee Curtis.

As we watched this movie, me and Erin discovered two things.  Number one, the original Prom Night is seriously one grim movie.  And number two, there’s an awful lot of dancing.  It makes sense.  The movie only kills about four people so obviously, there had to be some serious padding to get this thing up to 90 minutes.  And most of that padding is musical.

Included below is one of my favorite new scenes that I love.  As Jamie Lee says, “Let’s show them what we can do…”

Scenes I Love: Valley of the Dolls


Yesterday, as part of my ongoing struggle with insomnia, I watched the 1967 Hollywood expose, Valley of the Dolls.  This is one of the most legendary so-bad-it’s-good films of all time but I have to admit that the main reason I started watching it was because I had been told that the movie was also extremely dull.  I was hoping it might put me to sleep.

No such luck.

I am not ashamed to admit that I loved Valley of the Dolls in all of its over-the-top, ludicrous glory.  I’m also not ashamed to admit that I now have a new life’s ambition.  And that ambition is to play the iconic role of talented, neurotic, and unstable pill popper, Neely O’Hara in a modern-day remake of Valley of the Dolls (which, hopefully, will be directed by Arleigh who I’m sure could help me get in touch with my inner Neely). 

In the original Valley, Neely was played by Patty Duke who sang, screamed, and doped as if the world depended on it.  Below is my favorite scene of Neely mayhem, the one in which Neely gets into a catfight with an aging rival (played by Susan Hayward).

(Much like the rest of the movie, this scene starts out slow and requires a little bit of patience on the part of the viewer but, in the end, that patience will be rewarded.)

6 Trailers From The Valley of the Exploited


No, the Valley of the Dolls is not one of the trailers included in the latest installment of Lisa Marie’s Grindhouse and Exploitation Trailers.  It just happens to be the movie that I’m watching as I edit this post.   Anyway, Valley of the Dolls was an exploitation film mostly because of human error.  The trailers below are for films that came by their exploitation label honestly.

1) An American Hippie In Israel

There’s some debate as to whether or not this movie actually exists.  I originally saw this trailer as an extra on the I Drink Your Blood DVD about three years ago.  At that time, Grindhouse Releasing claimed that it would be releasing this film on DVD “soon.”  Three years later, the DVD has yet to be released.  Perhaps it’s for the best.  I doubt that actual film could live up to lunacy and silliness of the trailer.

2) Best Friends

This is a good example of a movie that, if it was released today, would probably be marketed as an indie art film.  However, since it came out in the 70s, it played in grindhouses and drive-in movie theaters.  It’s actually a surprisingly well-made and well-acted film.

3) Chappaqua

Much like Best Friends, Chappaqua is proof that art and exploitation often go hand-in-hand.  The film was produced and directed by Conrad Rooks and features William S. Burroughs at his cynical best.

4) The Hellcats 

This is another one of those trailers that proves that, in the late 60s, liberated women were actually more menacing than murderous biker gangs.

5) Hell’s Belles

This movie, I suppose, could also have been called The Hellcat.  Adam Roarke, the star of this one, appeared in every biker film released in 1970.

6) Savage Sisters

This is another one of those films that, frustratingly enough, is not yet available on DVD.  That’s a shame.  The world needs more movies about women kicking ass.

The Regal Keystone Park 16, R.I.P.


 

Earlier this week, I discovered that, without warning, the Regal Keystone Park 16 had closed its door for good.

The Regal was not my favorite movie theater in the Dallas/Ft. Worth metroplex.  That honor would have to be jointly awarded to the Dallas and Plano Angelikas.  In fact, if anything, the Regal was somewhat trashy.  It was located right off of Central Expressway (which meant that traffic both entering and leaving theater was insane) and it sat directly across the street from a free clinic.  Whenever I went to the Regal, I was always very much aware of the constantly patrolling police cars.  There always seemed to be something dramatic happening at the apartments across the street from the theater. 

Despite the police presence, I could always count on being accosted by one at least one homeless person.  Most of the time they would just ask for money though other times they just wanted to tell me about who was actually in charge of the world.  Most of the time, it seemed to be the Vatican.  I would smile politely and hope they were too busy ranting to notice the St. Vitus medal around my neck.

One of the few times I actually made the mistake of going to the Regal by myself, I was greeted in the parking lot by a bearded, foul-smelling man who was about a foot taller than me and who outweighed me by over a hundred pounds.  He started walking towards me as soon as I got out of my car and even though I quickened my pace, he quickly caught up to me.  Walking less than a couple of inches behind me, he loudly asked me if I liked to perform a certain sexual act.  He kept following me, asking me this all the way to the theater doors but he didn’t step inside the theater after me.  The whole time this was going on, the parking lot was filled with other filmgoers who heard what the man asked and saw how quickly I was walking away from him.  Not one of them said a word or, as far as I know, even called the police.  That’s the type of theater that the Regal was.

(Incidentally, I called the police as soon as I got inside the theater.  I’m not sure what happened exactly but the man wasn’t there when I left two hours later.  The movie I saw, by the way, was Lakeview Terrace, starring Samuel L. Jackson.)

Still, I’m going to miss going to the Regal.  For one thing, it was close to where I live now and it was close to where I lived previously.  So, even if it was by default, it was kind of my theater.  As trashy as the outside was, the inside was usually pretty clean.  Plus, I went enough times that I got to know — at least on a visual level — most of the people who worked there.  For instance, there was the elderly gentleman who — no matter what time of day I went to the Regal — always seemed to be working behind ticket table.  Usually, he’d end up giving us tickets to the wrong movie but he seemed like a nice old man and he always had a smile ready for me whenever he saw me stepping through the front doors.  I’m going to miss him.

No, the Regal wasn’t perfect but it’s a place where I spent a lot of hours and I’ve got a lot of memories of that place.  To an extent, I’m not surprised that it closed its doors.  It was, obviously, located in a terrible neighborhood and often times it did so little business that me and whoever I had come with would end up watching our movie in an empty theater.  That’s good for those of us who like to have sex while watching movies but, as a question of simple economics, it’s not a formula for success.  Still, I would have liked a chance to say goodbye.

On Friday, me and my sister Erin drove down to the old Regal, specifically to take some pictures for this little memorial.  Unfortunately, no sooner had Erin take a few pictures before we were confronted by some fat asshole in a golf cart who wanted to know why we were taking pictures. 

To be honest, I have issues with authority on a good day and Friday was not, at that point, a very good day.  So, as Erin put the lens cap back on her camera, I sensibly replied, “I really don’t think that’s any of your fucking business.”

“Some people take pictures because they want to case a place before they rob it,” Mr. Fascist-On-A-Golf-Cart replied.

At this point, Erin had unlocked her car and was attempting to lead me over to it.  However, as I retreated, I politely replied, “Your mother sucks cock in Hell, Karras.”

That shut the pig up.  I’m still wondering if he realized I was merely quoting The Exorcist or if he thought maybe I actually was possessed.

Anyway, the pictures in this post were all taken by Erin Nicole Bowman on Friday and I thank her for both helping me pay tribute to the Angelika and for keeping me out of jail.

Here, in alphabetical order, is as complete a list as possible of every film I saw at the Regal Keystone Park 16, starting with Iron Man on June 10th, 2008 and ending with Secretariat on October 12th, 2010.

Adventureland

The American

An American Carol

The Black Waters of Echo’s Pond

The Blind Side

The Book of Eli

Brothers

Burn After Reading

Changeling

Clash of the Titans

The Crazies

The Curious Case of Benjamin Button

The Dark Knight

Despicable Me

Drag Me To Hell

Eat Pray Love

The Expendables

Everybody’s Fine

The Fantastic Mr. Fox

Funny People

Get Him To The Greek

Get Low

The Happening

How To Train Your Dragon

The Informant!

Inglorious Basterds

Invictus

Iron Man

Iron Man 2

Lakeview Terrace

The Last Exorcism

Legion

Let Me In

The Losers

The Lovely Bones

Machete

The Men Who Stare At Goats

Ninja Assassin

The Other Guys

Paranormal Activity

Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time

Public Enemies

Resident Evil: Afterlife

Robin Hood

Salt

Scott Pilgrim Vs. The World

Secretariat

Sherlock Holmes

Shutter Island

Splice

Star Trek

Taken

The Town

Toy Story 3

Tropic Thunder

Twelve

Up

Wall Street: Money Never Sleeps

Wall-E

Watchmen

The Wolf Man

Zombieland

Regal Keystone Park 16, R.I.P.

Film Review: Hereafter (dir. by Clint Eastwood)


Hereafter is a very serious film about a very serious topic, death.  Following three separate but ultimately connected stories, the film attempts to explore death and the question of what happens after death from three different angles — intellectually, emotionally, and spiritually.   I really wanted Hereafter to be a great film.  So did the film’s makers, which is precisely why Hereafter fails.

The intellectual consideration of death is represented by the character of Marie (Cecile De France), a French journalist who, at the start of the film, drowns in a tsunami and is, for a few minutes, clinically dead.  Before she is eventually revived, she has a classic near-death experience: the bright light, the people waiting to greet her, the whole deal.  After this experience, Marie is compelled to investigate whether or not there truly is such a thing as an afterlife.  As she does so, Marie finds herself shunned by her resolutely secular friends and grows increasingly distant from her skeptical (and rather condescending) boyfriend.

The emotional response to death is represented in the story of twin brothers, Marcus and Jason (played by Frankie and George McLaren).  The two boys live in London with their drug-addicted mother and share a strong (and, to be honest, kinda creepy) bond.  Jason, while simply trying to return home with some drugs for his detoxing mother, is roughed up by some bullies and ends up running out into the middle of the street.  Naturally, since this is a movie, Jason is hit by a truck as soon as he steps off the curb.  Jason is killed and Marcus is taken away by social services and put into a foster home.  Marcus continues to carry Jason’s cap with him and soon starts tracking down local English psychics in an attempt to talk to his brother again.

Finally, the spiritual aspect is detailed in the film’s most interesting story.  This story features Matt Damon as George Lonegan, a psychic who can speak with the dead.  After years of being a minor celebrity, George burned out and went into a self-imposed exile.  He now works at a factory while his brother (Jay Mohr, who looks incredibly puffy in this movie) keeps trying to find ways to convince George to get back into the business of talking to dead for fun and profit.  After George reluctantly gives a reading to Richard Kind, he finds himself being dragged back into his old life.

 A lot of viewers and critics have compared Hereafter to Alejandro González Iñárritu’s 2006 masterpiece, Babel.  Both films follow three separate but connecting stories and both films are concerned with the theme of death and how it connects us all.  As well, Babel featured Brad Pitt in a serious role and Hereafter features Matt Damon.  The main difference, however, is that Babel was a great film but Hereafter is basically an uneven mess.

Whereas Babel featured three strong stories, Hereafter features 1 compelling story (that would be Damon’s) which is compelling solely because Matt Damon is a talented enough actor that he can apparently perform miracles.  He’s probably about as likable as he’s ever been in the role of George but he also wisely plays the role as being just a little bit off.  Even though the film makes the mistake of never really going into the details of just what exactly caused George to give up being a psychic, Damon is so good in the role that you’re willing to take him at his word that he had a good reason.  Probably the highlight of the film (and one of the few sections to really inspire any sort of real emotional response) is an extended sequence where Damon befriends and the manages to alienate an insecure, single woman played by Bryce Dallas Howard.  Damon and Howard have a scene that involves eating while blind-folded that manages to be both powerfully erotic and wonderfully romantic at the same time.  If the entire film had been about them, Hereafter would have been a much better movie.

Unfortunately, we’ve got to slog through two other stories. 

Cecile La France gives an excellent performance as Marie and the opening tsunami scene is truly terrifying.  For someone like me, who cannot swim and risks having a panic attack if she even stands near the deep end of a swimming pool, the tsunami scene was almost impossible to watch.  I had to put my hands in front of my eyes and watch the scene through my fingers.  However, once she drowns, Marie sees a vision of the afterlife that — as a harbinger of things to come — is rather dull.  I mean, with everything that can supposedly be done in movies today, the best that Hereafter can give us is a bland white light.  Once Marie returns to Paris and starts her investigation, La France remains a sympathetic presence and the film actually does a pretty good job of showing just how condescending most supposedly “liberal” men are whenever a woman starts to stray from the established orthodoxy.  But, unfortunately, her story is just never that interesting.  Marie decides to write a book about the afterlife.  As a writer myself, I have to say that there is nothing more boring than watching someone else write.

As for Marcus, I was shocked just how little I cared about him or his attempts to contact his brother.  I come from a very close family and I have a very strong bond with all three of my sisters and, among them, I am notorious for crying at any movie that deals with that sort of sibling bonding.  Yet I sat through the saga of Marcus and Jason without shedding a tear and I felt terrible about it.  I really wanted to cry.  I really wanted to have some sort of emotional response to the story but I just never believed it.  I hate to say this but honestly, a lot of this was due to the fact that the McLaren twins are such bad actors.  Director Clint Eastwood has said that he specifically cast them because they weren’t professional actors and therefore, they wouldn’t introduce any false “sentimentality” into the mix.  But dammit, it was a sentimental story.  Sentiment is not necessarily a bad thing and just because something is sentimental, that doesn’t make it false.

So, what exactly went wrong with Hereafter?  The film opens strongly with a terrifying tsunami and the final 30 minutes are also undeniably touching (if also a bit contrived).  It’s everything that happens in between those two points that ruins Hereafter.  Director Eastwood, obviously looking to avoid that dreaded curse of being sentimental, keeps the whole film very low-key and realistic.  Other than the opening tsunami, there are no big wow moments but to be honest, isn’t that what movies are for?  If you’re going to make a movie that specifically shuns the wow moment, you better have something compelling (a perfect script or an entire cast giving a compelling performance as opposed to just a handful of them) to take its place.  Hereafter doesn’t and, as a result, the movie drags.  This, honestly, has got to be one of the slowest, most boring movies I’ve ever seen.  If director Eastwood’s westerns and actions films can all be seen as homages to Sergio Leone and Don Siegel, I think Hereafter must be an homage to some of Andy Warhol’s intentionally dull films.  Whereas Warhol, at the very least, gave us Joe Dallesandro to look at, Eastwood gives us Jay Mohr.  It’s not a fair trade.

I don’t know how much of Hereafter should be blamed on Eastwood and how much should be blamed on the script written by Peter Morgan.  Here’s a quote from Morgan that appeared in The Hollywood Reporter:

“It’s quite spiritual material, and quite romantic, too. It’s the sort of piece that’s not easy to describe and in the hands of different filmmakers could end up as wildly different films. Quite unlike some of my other material, which I think there were only certain ways that you could shoot it. It’s really not just another boring Hollywood movie with the same old boring Hollywood actors, although I see the point that the public and sick of paying $10.00 to see a movie with same old faces and the same gramma of story telling.”

And to that, all I can say is “Shut up, Peter Morgan!”

This is not spiritual material as much as it’s just a bunch of vaguely New Age platitudes being delivered by a mainstream screenwriter who apparently doesn’t have the guts to come down either firmly for or against an afterlife.  This is the type of feel-good BS that leads to thousands of people every year giving up their life savings to some fraud who claims he can deliver messages from beyond.  Morgan’s script goes out of its way not to actually define the afterlife.  Is it heaven or is it Hell?  Is there a God?  Do the worthy go to Heaven?  Are souls saved?  Or are they just ghosts who are waiting for us to be willing to let them go?  These are all questions that would have been considered by a good film but Hereafter doesn’t consider them.  Oh, don’t get me wrong.  It pretends to bring them up but only so the movie can shrug and go, “I guess nobody knows.”  And to that I say, either take a position or don’t expect everyone else to pay money just to listen to you duck the question because you’re too scared of alienating mainstream critics or audiences.

(Myself, I do believe that those who love us are always with us in some way even if I don’t believe in a literal afterlife.  And while I know that answer might seem vague, you should also consider that I’m not the one spending millions of dollars to make a movie celebrating that vagueness.)

Morgan’s script also make its a point to incorporate real-life events into his contrived narrative.  As a result, the London Subway bombings and the Thailand Tsunami are both used as convenient plot points in much the same way that The Curious Case of Benjamin Button used Hurricane Katrina.  I felt it was ghoulish when Button did it and, the more I think about it, it’s equally ghoulish in Hereafter.  It’s hard not to feel that the film’s saying, “Too bad all those real people died but what’s important is how these events impacted the lives of a bunch of fictional characters.”

Hereafter’s main problem is that it simply tries too hard to be great.  You get the feeling that every scene and line has been calculated to make you go, “Wow, what genius!”  As a result, even the scenes that work still somehow feel very dishonest.  The end result is a very insincere film about some very sincere concerns.