Lisa’s Homestate Reviews: Oklahoma and Terror at Tenkiller

Posted on June 22, 2014 by Lisa Marie Bowman

A typically enthralling scene from Terror at Tenkiller

When I was growing up, I lived twice in Oklahoma. In July of 1992, my family moved from Carlsbad, New Mexico to Ardmore, Oklahoma. We lived in Ardmore until January and then we moved to Texarkana. 3 years later, we would return to Oklahoma when we moved from Longmont, Colorado to Tulsa. We called Tulsa home for five months before my Dad got a new job working in Shreveport, Louisiana and we moved yet again.

Now that I live in Texas, I’m almost legally obligated to give Oklahoma a hard time but actually, it’s a pretty nice state. There’s a lot pretty scenery and, even more importantly, Oklahoma is home to some of the nicest people you could ever hope to meet. Add to that, I often feel that I owe my fascinating with the horror genre to Oklahoma. When we were living in Ardmore, there was an abandoned barn near our house and a group of mean older sisters and cousins of mine told me that there were monsters living inside of that barn. That inspired the very first nightmare that I ever had and, all these years later, I’m still scared of barns.

When I sat down to write a review of a film that was made in my former homestate, I ran into a problem that I really hadn’t planned for. There just aren’t that many movies that were filmed entirely on location in Oklahoma. At first, I thought I might go with either The Outsiders or Rumble Fish, since both of those films were shot in and around Tulsa but I really can’t say that I was enthusiastic about the prospect of sitting through and reviewing either one of those. Fortunately, I had the bright idea to check with Wikipedia and that’s when I first came across Terror at Tenkiller, an independent slasher film from 1987.

“Ah!” I thought, “a horror film, which will tie in nicely with my memories of that scary barn!”

Even better, I quickly discovered that some generous soul had previously downloaded the film to YouTube.

“Yay!” I thought, as I sat down to watch Terror at Tenkiller, “This may be bad but at least I won’t have to sit through The Outsiders!”

Anyway, Terror at Tenkiller is really, really bad. The acting is terrible, the film reveals the identity of the killer within the first few minutes and then actually has the nerve to brag about the fact that the killer is basically motiveless, all of the dialogue was rather clumsily dubbed into the film, and the film is so ineptly lit that you often can’t even tell what’s happening on screen. Yes, it’s a pretty bad film alright but I still have to admit that I enjoyed watching it.

What can I say? When it comes to my movies, much like my men, it’s impossible for me not to find something to enjoy about them. Even more importantly, I have a weakness for low-budget regional horror films. First off, the film takes place at Lake Tenkiller, which is absolutely gorgeous and, whether he was simply trying to pad out a thin story or not, director Ken Meyer wisely includes a lot of footage of the surrounding countryside. Secondly, the film is full of people who were obviously locals. What they lacked in acting talent, they made up for authenticity. I’ve had to sit through a lot of bad films that have featured a lot of professional actors trying their best to sound like they’re from my part of the world but, in the end, simply sounding like they’ve never even seen the Mason-Dixon Line, let along traveled below it. If I’m going to watch a bad movie, I’d rather watch a bad movie that gets the accents right as opposed to one where everyone sounds like they just failed their dialect midterm at the Actors Studio.

Finally, I think the argument can be made that the low-budget and the stiff acting and the random volume level of the dubbing actually works to this film’s advantage. If nothing else, these so-called flaws gives Terror at Tenkiller an undeniably dream-like feel. The surrealism of Terror at Tenkiller may be unintentional but does that make it any less effective?

Anyway, you can make up your own mind by watching below. The film itself is only 87 minutes long but the upload on YouTube has been divided into 6 different parts, each one of which lasts about 14 minutes. In the interest of space, I’m only embedding part one but, at the end of the video, you should be able to find links for the other five parts. If you’re at work, be warned. This film does contain some very brief nudity and you probably shouldn’t be watching movies at work anyway.

Lisa’s Homestate Reviews: New Mexico and A Million Ways To Die In The West

Posted on June 22, 2014 by Lisa Marie Bowman

My family lived in Carlsbad, New Mexico from January of 1991 to July of 1992. I was only 5 years old when we arrived and 6 when we left so I really can’t say that I remember that much about Carlsbad, beyond the fact that my mom was always worried about rattlesnakes, I was excited about going to kindergarten and that, when my Dad announced that we were moving to Oklahoma, I cried and cried because, even at that age, I knew that meant I’d never get to see my friends again.

So yeah, some of my memories of New Mexico are a little traumatic. But are they as traumatic as watching Seth McFarlane’s A Million Ways To Die In The West, a film that was shot in New Mexico and which is an early front-runner for claiming the title of worst of 2014?

Written by, produced by, directed by, and starring Seth McFarlane, A Million Ways To Die In The West tells the story of a sheep farmer named Albert (played by Seth McFarlane) who basically spends the entire movie whining about how much he hates living in the old west. His girlfriend leaves him for … well, look, the plot is stupid. You knew the plot was going to be stupid when you first saw the trailer earlier this year. You probably even knew the film wasn’t going to be that good. However, as bad as you might think the film is, it’s nothing compared to how bad the movie actually is. And the blame pretty much rests with Seth McFarlane.

Seth McFarlane has got cold, dead eyes and a curiously unlined face that, when taken along with his ever-present smirk, tends to make him look like one of those horror movie mannequins that comes to life once the store closes and murders horny teenagers. I understand that it’s always been a part of McFarlane’s act to present himself as being an asshole with a heart of gold but, for the most part, that works best when you only have to deal with his voice. The minute that you see his smug face, which is as immobile as his voice is expressive, the heart of gold part disappears. All your left with is an asshole who insists on telling the same joke over and over again. As both a comedic writer and director, McFarlane’s technique is to basically beat the audience into submission, dragging jokes out to such an interminable length that you eventually laugh because you simply cannot believe that you’re wasting so much time watching this crap. Some people have mistaken that technique for genius. Those people should be forced to watch A Million Ways To Die In The West in much the same way that Malcolm McDowell was forced to watch violent movies in A Clockwork Orange.

(And I write all of that as perhaps the only woman in the world who was not offended by Seth McFarlane singing The Boob Song at the Academy Awards, if just because the joke was clearly meant to be at the expense of McFarlane and the overage frat boys who seem to make up his fan base.)

A Million Ways to Die In The West is full of familiar faces. Liam Neeson goes totally overboard as the film’s villain. Neil Patrick Harris, as usual, is fun to watch, or at least he is until he’s forced to take part in one of McFarlane’s trademark endless musical numbers. Eventually, Harris’s character gets slipped a laxative and it’s just as disgusting as it sounds. Giovanni Ribisi plays McFarlane’s best friend and his joke is that he’s a Christian (yes, Seth takes on Christianity — what a rebel!) and that his girlfriend (Sarah Silverman, who deserves better) is a prostitute who is willing to have sex with everyone but him. Amanda Seyfried has the thankless task of playing McFarlane’s girlfriend while Charlize Theron plays the enigmatic woman who teaches Seth how to shoot a gun. (Theron gives a far better performance than this movie deserves and it was hard not to wish that the entire film had just been about her character.) There are also several celebrity cameos — Ryan Reynolds, Christopher Lloyd, and even Jamie Foxx show up.

But, ultimately, the entire film is about Seth McFarlane. He wrote it, he directed it, and he stars in it. Seth McFarlane dominates this film and that’s the problem. What might be slightly amusing in a 22-minute cartoon is not going to be funny enough to sustain a nearly two-hour film. For a rambling and often aimless film like A Million Way To Die In The West to succeed, it needs a star who is both skilled at comedy and likable enough that he’ll be able to anchor the mayhem. (Seth Rogen, for instance.) Instead, we’re given a smirking Seth McFarlane and the end result is a film that somehow manages to be both forgettable and a disaster.

Now, you may be wondering how I ended up watching this film. Well, originally I wasn’t planning on ever seeing it but then I started to read reviews about how terrible it was and I was like, “This is a film that I definitely need to see for myself, so that I can see if the film is actually a misunderstood masterpiece or if it’s a film that I’m going to have to keep in mind when I’m compiling my annual list of the year’s worst films.” (Plus, when I arrived at the theater, The Fault In Our Stars was sold out.) But anyway, I sat through it and I forced my sister Erin to watch it with me and I think Erin may be on the verge of finally forgiving me.

Finally, what was more traumatic? Leaving behind my friends or watching this movie?

Too close to call.

Lisa’s Homestate Reviews: Arkansas and Mud

Posted on June 22, 2014 by Lisa Marie Bowman

When it comes to Arkansas, people seem to automatically think of two things. Arkansas is the former home of Bill and Hillary Clinton and it’s also the state that accused three teenage boys of committing horrific acts of murder, largely on the basis of the fact that one of the boys used to dress in black and listen to heavy metal music. Between the state’s largely rural image and repeat showings of Paradise Lost on HBO, Arkansas does not exactly have the best reputation.

Myself, I have a lot of childhood memories of Arkansas. Some of them are good and some of them aren’t so good. My grandmother lived in Fort Smith so, even when my family was living in another state, we would still always find the time to come visit her every summer. As well, I had (and still have) cousins spread out all over the state. Almost every road trip that I’ve ever taken has involved at least a few stops in Arkansas. When I think about Arkansas, I don’t think about the Clintons or Damien Echols. Instead, to me, Arkansas is where I used to get excited whenever I saw we were approaching grandma’s house and where my mom once grabbed me right before I stepped on a snake that was hidden in the high grass that surrounded my cousin’s farm.

As often as I visited Arkansas while I was growing up, I also actually lived there twice. I don’t remember the first time, because I was only two years old at the time, but my family spent 3 months living in Ft. Smith before going back to Texas. Then five years later, we returned to Arkansas and, over the course of 19 months, we lived in Texarkana, Fouke, Van Buren, North Little Rock, and, finally, Ft. Smith once again.

Originally, for Arkansas, I was planning on reviewing The Legend of Boggy Creek, a 1974 psuedo-documentary that deals with a bigfoot-like creature that was said to live near the town of Fouke. It made perfect sense as not only was The Legend of Boggy Creek filmed in Arkansas but it was produced by an Arkansan as well. It remains one of the most financially successful independent films of all time and, because it’s presented as being a documentary, it features authentic Arkansans in the cast. Even more importantly, my family actually lived in Fouke from August of ’93 to May of ’94. I’ve been down to Boggy Creek! (Though, to the best of my memory, the monster never made an appearance while we were living in Fouke.)

But then I thought about it and something occurred to me. The Legend of Boggy Creek is not that good of a movie. I watched it a few weeks ago and, once I got passed the fact that it was filmed in a town that I have vague memories of living in back when I was seven years old, I found the film itself to be almost unbearably dull.

So, instead of unleashing my snark on a 40 year-old exploitation film, I’m going to use this opportunity to recommend another film that was shot in Arkansas. This film, however, was one of the best films of 2013. It’s a film that, if you haven’t watched it yet, you owe it to yourself to see.

It’s a film called Mud.

Directed by Jeff Nichols (who previously gave us the excellent Take Shelter), Mud takes place in the town of DeWitt, Arkansas. Two teenage boys, Ellis (Tye Sheridan) and Neckbone (Jacob Lofland) spend their days going up and down the Arkansas River. Ellis, the more introspective of the two, dreams of escaping his homelife with an abusive father (Ray McKinnon) and a compliant mother (Sarah Paulson). Quietly watching over the two boys is Tom (Sam Shepard), an enigmatic older man who lives across the river from Ellis’s family.

One day, Ellis and Neckbone come across a mysterious man living on a small island. The man’s name is Mud (Matthew McConaughey) and he tells them that he’s waiting for his girlfriend, Juniper (Reese Whitherspoon). Mud explains that he killed a man who once pushed her down a flight of stairs while she was pregnant. Ellis and Neckbone agree to help Mud, secretly supplying him with food and delivering notes from him to Juniper.

However, the father (Joe Don Baker) of the man who Mud killed has arrived in town as well. He’s brought an army of mercenaries with him and, each morning, he gathers them together for a quick prayer and then sends them out to track down and kill Mud…

Mud is a wonderful film, one that is full of visually striking images and excellent performances. (If Dallas Buyers Club hadn’t come out later that same year, Matthew McConaughey could have just as easily been nominated for his charismatic and sympathetic performance here.) Even more importantly, the film is full of authentic local culture and color. If, decades from now, someone asked me what Arkansas was like in the early 21st Century, Mud is the film that I would show them.

Much as how Richard Linklater can capture Texas in a way that a non-Texan never could, Mud is fortunate to have been directed by a native of Arkansas. Watching Mud, it quickly becomes obvious that Jeff Nichols knows and understands Arkansas and, as such, he presents an honest portrait of the state.

Every state should hope to inspire a film as well-made and entertaining as Mud.

Lisa’s Homestate Reviews: Texas and Bernie

Posted on June 22, 2014 by Lisa Marie Bowman

I recently realized something while I was working on my autobiography. By the time I turned 12, I had really been around!

When I was growing up, my family moved around a lot. By the time that my mom, my sisters, and I moved back to Texas for the final time, I had lived in a total of 6 states: Texas, Arkansas, New Mexico, Oklahoma, Colorado, and Louisiana. Whenever I’m asked which one of those six states was my favorite, I always say — without a moment of hesitation — Texas. Don’t get me wrong — those other five states are all wonderful but I’m a Texas girl. It’s where I was born, it’s where the majority of my family lives, and it’s where I attended and graduated from college. I love traveling and I love seeing the world but, in my heart, I know that I’ll always return to Texas.

Unfortunately, the rest of America rarely seems to love my homestate as much as I do. It never ceases to amaze me how many people — who have obviously never even been here! — consider themselves to be an expert on Texas. They talk about George W. Bush. They talk about the Kennedy assassination. They talk about Rick Perry and Ted Cruz. They talk about oil. They talk about guns. They talk about these things as if a state as huge and populous as Texas can be defined by only a few issues or citizens. That may be true of a tiny state like Vermont but there’s a lot more variety to Texas than any outsider will ever be able to understand.

Movies rarely get Texas right. I’ve lost count of the number of films that have tried to portray north Texas as being a desert or having mountains. And don’t even get me started on how terrible most actors sound when they try to imitate our accent! Fortunately, Texas has its own set of native filmmakers, true artists who are capable of making movies that both criticize and celebrate Texas without descending to the level of elitist caricature. One of the best of them is Richard Linklater and 2012’s Bernie is one of his best films.

Bernie tells the true story of Bernie Tiede. In 1996, Bernie (played, quite well, by Jack Black) was perhaps the most popular citizen of Carthage, Texas. Along with being the leader of the church choir (which is always an important position in small town Texas), Bernie was also an assistant funeral director who was known for always saying exactly the right thing to a grieving family. As a 38 year-old bachelor, Bernie was also the center of a lot of small town gossip, especially after he became the constant companion of the town’s richest (and, some would say, meanest) woman, 81 year-old Marge Nugent (played, in the film, by Shirley MacClaine).

When Bernie announces that Marge has had a stroke and is currently away in a hospital, the people of Carthage have no reason to doubt him. Since Marge was usually such an unpleasant person to be around, most are just fine with not having to deal with her personally. They’re even happier when Bernie suddenly starts to donate large sums of money to his neighbors, local businesses, and the church.

However, Marge’s accountant has his doubts about Bernie’s claims. With the help of Marge’s previously estranged family, he convinces the local police to search Marge’s house. That’s where they discover Marge’s body in a freezer, dead as a result of being shot four times in the back with an armadillo gun. A tearful Bernie confesses to the murder, saying that Marge was just so mean to him that he eventually snapped.

District Attorney Danny Buck Davidson (played by a hilariously slick Matthew McConaughey) charges Bernie with first degree murder but soon discovers that — despite the fact that Bernie has confessed — it might not be so easy to get a conviction. The people of Carthage may have hated Marge but, even more importantly, they absolutely loved Bernie. Danny Buck is forced to file a motion to move the trial to nearby San Augustine County (which is, as the film correctly points out, the squirrel-hunting capitol of the world) and the citizens of Carthage wait to see if their most beloved citizen is convicted of murder.

Bernie was one of my favorite films of 2012 but I have to admit that, when it came to write this review, I was a little worried about rewatching it. If there’s anything that often suffers upon repeat viewing, it’s quirkiness and Bernie is nothing if not quirky. However, I’m happy to say that Bernie was just as effective on a second viewing as it was on the first. Jack Black’s performance remains the best of his career and, in the role of Marge, Shirley MacClaine deftly brought to life a type that should be familiar to anyone who has ever lived in a small town. When I first saw the film, it seemed like Matthew McConaughey occasionally went a bit overboard in the role of Danny Buck Davidson but, on a second viewing, it was obvious that, as flamboyantly as McConaughey played the role, he never allowed Danny Buck to become a caricature. The film’s unique structure — which is made up of a combination of scenes with actors and interviews with the actual citizens of Carthage — also held up surprisingly well. Those interviews are the key to the film’s success because, otherwise, it’s doubtful that anyone would believe that this story actually happened.

But ultimately, I think the reason that Bernie worked the first time I saw it and why it continued to work when I watched it again is because Richard Linklater is from Texas. Can you imagine if an outsider had come down here and tried to make a movie out of the story of Bernie Tiede? It probably would have ended up being one of the most condescending movies ever made, full of actors from up north trying to sound Texan. And that would have been a shame because Bernie is a uniquely Texan story and, as such, it’s a story that could only be properly told by someone who knows the state.

Don’t get me wrong. There’s definitely some pointed humor to be found in Bernie‘s portrayal of life in small town Texas. The sequence where various citizens of Carthage are asked whether or not Bernie was gay (“That dog don’t hunt,” one woman says after explaining that Bernie couldn’t be gay because he led the church choir) is just one example. But the difference between Linklater’s approach and the approach that one might expect from a non-Texan is that Linklater allows the citizens of Carthage to have their dignity even as he pokes some gentle fun at them. As a native Texan, Linklater portrays our state — flaws and all — honestly, without any of the elitist posturing that we’ve come to expect from northern filmmakers.

And, as a result, Bernie is one of the best films ever made about both Texas and small town life.

As for the real life Bernie Tiede, he was released from prison in May of this year, under the condition that he live with Richard Linklater in Austin.

Bernie and friends

Film Review: Cold In July (dir by Jim Mickle)

Posted on June 20, 2014 by Lisa Marie Bowman

Cold in July, which is currently available OnDemand and also playing in select theaters, is a great film.

To a large extent, you’re simply going to have to take my word about that because to give too much away about this twisty and emotionally resonant thriller would be a crime. Quite frankly, I’d rather write a vague review than rob you of the pleasure of discovering this film’s secrets for yourself.

Here’s what I can tell you.

Cold In July takes place in east Texas and, speaking as a Texan, it manages to perfectly capture the odd mix of southern gothic and western stoicism that distinguishes that section of Texas from the rest of the state. Cold in July is one of the best Texas-set films that I’ve ever seen, one that is uniquely Texan and yet still accessible for those viewers who live elsewhere (except maybe for Vermont). Director Jim Mickle and cinematographer Ryan Samul fill Cold In July with hauntingly beautiful images of the landscape, capturing that unique Texas stillness that can be both tranquil and threatening at the same time.

Michael C. Hall plays Richard Dane, an ordinary guy who, at the start of the film, confronts and kills a burglar who has broken into his house. While nearly everyone else in town is impressed by Richard’s actions, Richard is haunted by them. While everyone else tells Richard that he should be proud for standing up against crime, Richard is obsessed with the bloodstains that now decorate his living room wall. Richard grows even more uneasy when the town’s police chief informs him that the burglar’s father has recently been paroled from Huntsville Prison.

When Richard goes to the burglar’s funeral, he meets the quietly menacing Ben Russell (Sam Shepard). Ben reveals that Richard killed his son and then goes on to suggest that maybe, in order to even the score, Ben should now go after Richard’s son. Even after the police agree to protect Richard and his family, it quickly turns out that Ben is a lot more clever than anyone realized…

And that’s all I can tell you about this film’s plot without spoiling the many twists and turns. I can, however, assure you that anything you may be assuming about this film or the relationship between Richard and Ben is probably incorrect. This is a film that starts out like an effective but standard thriller and then, about 30 minutes into the action, the story suddenly goes off in an entirely different direction. The fact that the film manages to pull off such a sudden shift in tone and plot is due to both Mickle’s confident direction and the excellent performances of Hall and Shepard.

I can also tell you that this film features a great and award-worthy supporting performance from Don Johnson. Johnson plays Jim Bob Luke, a flamboyant private detective who also owns a pig farm and drives a red Cadillac with vanity plates that read “RED BTCH.” Johnson brings a jolt of life to the film right when it most needs it. Jim Bob starts out as comic relief but, as the film progresses, Johnson brings a surprising amount of gravitas to the role until finally, Jim Bob is as much the moral center of the story as Tommy Lee Jones was in the thematically similar No Country For Old Men.

Finally, I can tell you that Cold In July is a violent film but it’s not the empty, consequence-free mayhem that you might expect to see in a thriller like this. It’s hard to explain without giving away too much of the plot but I would have to describe it as almost being “violence with heart.” Cold In July may be violent but it’s never mindless and that makes all the difference.

As I said, it’s difficult to review Cold In July because to go into too much detail would run the risk of ruining the film’s many surprises. So, instead, I’ll just say that Cold In July is one of the best films of the year so far.

It’s a film that you, as a lover of cinema, owe it to yourself to see.

Lisa Goes Back To College: Toga! Toga! Toga!

Posted on June 2, 2014 by Lisa Marie Bowman

Well, all good things must come to an end and that includes my cinematic trip back to college. Now, just in case you’re feeling that my trip back was a bit too overly critical and snarky, allow me to conclude things with a scene that I truly love. This is a scene that so epitomizes everything that’s great about college. The film takes places in the 60s and was filmed in the 70s but National Lampoon’s Animal House is a truly a timeless film.

And the Toga Party is a timeless scene.

Lisa Goes Back To College: Pitch Perfect (dir by Jason Moore)

Posted on June 2, 2014 by Lisa Marie Bowman

At this point, during my cinematic journey back to college, I paused and considered the films that I had already watched. I had watched three films about campus political activists and one film about a college tennis team and the results had been mixed. How, I wondered, could it be that watching none of these films, with the possible exception of R.P.M., was as much fun as actually attending college?

And then it occurred to me that a huge part of the problem was that I really couldn’t relate to any of the characters in the previous films I had watched. Political activists bore me to tears and, for that matter, so do jocks. So, for my next college film, I decided to take care of that problem by re-watching a movie that I actually could relate to — 2012’s Pitch Perfect.

I was recently shocked when a male acquaintance of mine told me that he loved Pitch Perfect. Don’t get me wrong — I love Pitch Perfect, too. But it’s never really struck me as a film that guys would like.

“Really?” I said, “I love Pitch Perfect! What was your favorite part?”

“The shower,” he said.

And suddenly, it all made sense.

In Pitch Perfect, alienated college student Beca (Anna Kendrick) is taking a shower at her dorm and, thinking she’s alone, she starts singing. Earlier in the day, she had turned down a chance to audition for an all girls a capella group, saying that she really couldn’t sing. However, as this scene shows, she actually has a wonderful voice.

However, one of the members of the a capella group — Chloe (Brittany Show) — is over in the next shower stall and, as soon as she overhears Beca singing, she confronts her with, “I knew you could sing!” and she and the reluctant Beca end up singing Titanium together.

(And, of course, they’re both naked while doing it, which I imagine is the reason why, whenever I mention Pitch Perfect around any guy, the shower scene always seems to come up. Of course, none of them ever mentions my favorite part of the scene, which is when the cute guy who was taking a shower with Chloe pops up and tells the girls that they sound really good.)

Even though I’ve never been invited to be a member of an a capella singing group, I could relate to that scene, if just because I also sing in the shower and, during my first year at college, I lived in a dorm with a communal shower as well. Every time I took a shower, I would sing — not to be obnoxious but just because that’s what I had always done and, when I was living at home, nobody ever seemed to have a problem with me singing.

And, like anyone who has ever spontaneously broke out into song, I guess there was always a part of me that hoped it would inspire a complete stranger to tell me how talented I was. I didn’t necessarily want anyone to interrupt my shower but there was a part of me that always hoped someone would say, “I knew you could sing!”

So, one morning, I was down in the Bruce Hall cafeteria and I overheard two girls who lived on the same wing as me talking.

“Oh my God,” I heard one of them say, “did you hear her singing in the shower this morning?”

“Oh my God,” the other replied, “she has got the worst voice I have ever heard. I’m just like, ‘Bitch, will you shut the fuck up?'”

Now, I’d like to say that I stood up for myself and told both of them off, because that’s what would have happened in a movie like Pitch Perfect. Unfortunately, however, I wasn’t in a movie. I was in the real world, I was 18, I was insecure, and I was living away from home for the first time. So, instead of turning around and challenging those two mean girls to a sing-off, I went back to my room and cried. Then I got mad and said “Fuck them!” Then I cried some more. And this went on for a while.

Finally, my roommate Kim got tired of watching me pace back and forth, alternatively crying and cursing. Standing in front of me, she said, “Lisa, do you like to sing?”

“Yes,” I replied, in between sobs, “and how dare they–”

“If you like singing, then sing!”

To this day, those six words make up some of the best advice I’ve ever been given. As soon as I heard them, I felt better. And yes, I did take Kim’s advice. Every time I took a shower, I would sing. Of course now, I made it a point to sing as loudly and as with much twang in my voice as possible. If I couldn’t be the best, then I was happily going to embrace being the worst. The important thing is that I enjoyed singing so that was what I was going to do and if they didn’t like it, that was their problem.

But anyway, this review is supposed to be about Pitch Perfect and what can I say other than it’s one of my favorite films of all time. The plot is predictable — of course, Beca joins the a capella group and of course, she, Fat Amy (played by Rebel Wilson, who is like a hilarious force of nature in this film), and a bunch of other unlikely singers go on to compete and win. And yes, in the end, Beca also gets a really cute boyfriend.

Pitch Perfect really is pretty much Bring It On with a capella replacing cheerleading. But, who cares? The music is great, the cast is full of good actors (and Elizabeth Banks has a hilarious cameo as a commentator), and it’s just a very likeable and enjoyable movie. If you’re not happy after watching Pitch Perfect, then there’s probably no hope for you.

In other words, it’s a movie that makes me want to sing.

Lisa Goes Back To College: Jocks (dir by Steve Carver)

Posted on June 2, 2014 by Lisa Marie Bowman

A typically exciting scene from Jocks

Having already watched 3 campus protests from 1970, I decided that maybe I should watch something a little bit less heavy-handed for my next college film. But I knew that, in order to find a college film that would have nothing serious on its mind, I would have to find a film that was made after the 70s.

That’s what led to me getting out my Too Cool For School DVD boxset and watching Jocks, a “comedy” from 1987. As you can probably guess from the sarcastic use of quotation marks, I probably would have been better off staying in the 70s.

Christopher Lee (!) plays the President White, the strict president of L.A. College. President White is upset because the athletic department has failed to win a championship in over ten years so he gives Coach Bettlebom (played by veteran character actor R. G. Armstrong) an ultimatum: win a championship or lose his job. Bettlebom argues that the rest of the athletic department would be able to win if it wasn’t for the financial obligation of supporting the school’s tennis team. Bettlebom then tells tennis Coach Williams (played by Shaft himself, Richard Roundtree) that he’s canceling the tennis program and all of the tennis players are going to lose their scholarships. Williams responds by making a bet. If the tennis team wins the national championship, the tennis program will continue. And if they don’t, the team will cease to exist, Williams will be out of a job, and the members of the tennis team will all be forced to drop out of college and have their lives totally ruined…

Wait a minute.

That makes absolutely no sense.

What the Hell is Coach Williams thinking!?

That’s the sort of thinking that leads students to protest and occupy buildings and basically act like they’re extras in Getting Straight, Zabriskie Point, and R.P.M.

But anyway, let’s just move on and not worry about things like logic and narrative sense. It’s time to meet the tennis team!

There’s Tex (Adam Mills), who doesn’t have a Texas accent. Tex doesn’t really do much but he’s certainly in a lot of scenes.

There’s Andy (Stoney Jackson), the flamboyant black guy who freaks out his opponents by pretending to be gay, because this film was made in the 20th Century.

There’s Chito (Trinidad Silva), who speaks Spanish and dramatically crosses himself before playing each set.

There’s Ripper (Donald Gibb), who has a thick beard, growls a lot, and appears to be in his 40s.

There’s Jeff (Perry Lang), the nice guy. In a film full of unlikable characters, Jeff seems to be, at the very least, a decent guy. Plus, he has a fairly funny drunk scene and, when you’re watching a film like Jocks, you come to appreciate fairly funny.

And then there’s The Kid (Scott Strader), who apparently doesn’t have a name. Seriously, even President White calls him “The Kid.” As you might guess about someone with a permanent nickname, The Kid is a master tennis player.

Anyway, the team goes to the championships in Las Vegas where they engage in the usual drunken hijinks and basically act like a bunch of jerks. They also play some rather boring tennis games. The Kid falls for a tennis groupie played by future Law & Order: SVU star Mariska Hargitay. Eventually, it all comes down to whether or not the team can beat Dallas Tech and, as a proud Texas girl, I’m not ashamed to admit that I was saying, “Go Dallas!” the entire time.

So, is Jocks worth watching?

If you’re a Christopher Lee fan, maybe. But, honestly, I think Sir Christopher would forgive you if you skipped this one.

But if you really want to, check out Jocks below!

Lisa Goes Back To College: R.P.M. (dir by Stanley Kramer)

Posted on June 2, 2014 by Lisa Marie Bowman

For my next return-to-college film, I ended up watching R.P.M. Like both Getting Straight and Zabriskie Point, R.P.M. was released in 1970 and deals with political unrest on campus.

Directed by Stanley Kramer (who also gave us such respectable and middlebrow liberal films as Guess Who’s Coming To Dinner and Judgment at Nuremberg), R.P.M. takes place at prestigious college. Students radicals led by Rossiter (Gary Lockwood) and Dempsey (Paul Winfield) have taken over a building on campus. When the university’s president goes to confront the students, one of them yells out, “Buzz off!” Well, you know how sensitive college presidents are. He quickly resigns his post and the students demand that he be replaced either by Che Guevara, Eldridge Cleaver, or Paco Perez.

Unfortunately, Guevara is dead and Cleaver is in Algeria. Fortunately, left-wing sociology professor Paco Perez (Anthony Quinn) is available and he just happens to teach on campus! Perez is named interim president of the college. Now, Perez has to bring peace to the campus, despite the fact that the protestors now see him as a sell-out because he accepted the position. Perez also has to deal with nonstop snarky comments from his girlfriend, a grad student named Rhoda (played by Ann-Margaret).

Especially when compared to Getting Straight and Zabriskie Point, R.P.M. is something of a forgotten film. I haven’t found many reviews online and the majority of them mostly seem to focus on the fact that the film is dated and that director Stanley Kramer’s portrayal of the student protestors is incredibly negative. And, in many ways, those criticisms are perfectly valid. And yet, with all that in mind, I still loved R.P.M. Of the three 1970 campus protest films that I watched last weekend, R.P.M. was my personal favorite.

Why do I so love R.P.M?

Well, let’s check out some of the dialogue.

When Paco first comes to see the protestors, one girl literally sings, “Look what the revolution dragged in!”

Later, another demonstrator is heard to philosophically ask, “Why is the good ass never radical and the radical ass never good?” (And that’s certainly a question that was asked by everyone who drove by Occupy Dallas back in 2011.)

About the college administration, one girl announces, “They’ve got empty scrotes!”

When Paco tells Dempsey that the college is finally going to hire a black admissions offer, Dempsey replies, “How black? Is this cat an oreo cookie? Is he related to my uncle Tom?”

When Paco asks how long it will take for the protestors to peacefully leave the building, one of them loudly announces, “It would take to the 12th of never!” Of course, everyone applauds.

And that’s not counting all of the times that random protestors say, “Right on!”

But even better than listening to the protestors is listening to Paco and Rhoda discuss their relationship.

When Rhoda tells Paco that she knows the real him because she sees him without his pajamas, Paco replies, “That’s not reality. That’s flab.” With a world-weary sigh, Rhoda replies, “Flab is reality.”

When Paco complains about Rhoda’s cooking, she sensibly tells him, “Next semester, hump a home economics major.” Paco replies, “I did. The food is great but the talk is lousy.”

After being taunted by a student, Paco asks Rhoda, “Did you tell the kids I was a lousy lay?” Rhoda laughs and replies, “I may have thought it but I never said it!”

Finally, in one heart-warming scene, Paco informs Rhoda that, “The whole campus calls you Paco’s Pillow.”

Seriously, how can you not love a movie with dialogue this overwritten and over-the-top? It’s obvious the Kramer and screenwriter Erich Segal were desperate to sound hip and contemporary and, as a result, nobody speaks like a normal person. Instead, listening to R.P.M. is a bit like listening to a party to which every 60s stereotype has been invited.

And yet, it’s not just the dated dialogue that causes me to love R.P.M. As opposed to the histrionic Getting Straight and the artistically detached Zabriskie Point, R.P.M. is an attempt to seriously deal with the issue of student protest. For every three moments that ring false, there’s one that works and that’s a lot more than most films about campus unrest can say. Anthony Quinn gives a good performance as a man who doesn’t realize quite how complacent he has become. He and Gary Lockwood have a wonderfully tense scene together where they sincerely and intelligent debate their different worldviews. It’s the best scene in the film and one that is so well-done that it excuses any previous missteps.

R.P.M. occasionally shows up on TCM. Keep an eye out for it.

Lisa Goes Back To College: Brink of Disaster! (dir by John Florea)

Posted on June 2, 2014 by Lisa Marie Bowman

Now, you may be thinking that after reading my reviews of Getting Straight and Zabriskie Point, that we here at the Shattered Lens are encouraging you to overthrow the United States. Nothing could be further from the truth! To quote Michael Scott, nobody here is subversive. Everyone is thoroughly versive. (Michael Scott said that once, didn’t he?)

Anyway, just in case anyone is having any dangerous thoughts, here’s a 30-minute short film from 1972. In Brink of Disaster, Johnny, a college students who sympathizes with the n0-goodniks of the world, breaks into the library so that he cans study late at night and protect it from rampaging campus radicals.

(Wait? What? That makes no sense but, then again, it was 1972…)

Anyway, as Johnny attempts to smoke and study, the ghost of his great-great-great-great grandfather, John Smith, materializes out of thin air and tells him everything that’s wrong with his generation. Johnny attempts to argue but he’s no match for his wiser ancestor.

“Don’t compare to the founding fathers to that riff raff!” John Smith exclaims at one point, “We want to worship God and they want to deny God!”

You tell him, John Smith!

Anyway, you know me. Whether I agree or disagree with the message, there’s nothing that I love more than an old school propaganda film. So, watch and enjoy Brink of Disaster and think twice before you try to overthrow the establishment because you might end up getting haunted by a condescending ghost.