Embracing the Melodrama Part II #4: The Struggle (dir by D.W. Griffith)

Posted on April 6, 2015 by Lisa Marie Bowman

Like a lot of the films directed by cinematic pioneer D.W. Griffith, the 1931 film The Struggle is currently available on Netflix. As a result of his direction of the film Birth of the A Nation, Griffith is a controversial historical figure but it cannot be denied that he was one of the most ambitious, talented, and innovative of the silent filmmakers. Unfortunately, like a lot of the great figures of silent film, he did not survive the transition to sound. Griffith directed two sound films. Abraham Lincoln is overly theatrical while The Struggle … well, bleh.

The Struggle tells the story of a married couple whose marriage is threatened by the husband’s alcoholism. Florrie (Zita Johann) only agrees to marry Jimmie (Hal Skelly) on the condition that he stop drinking. And, for several years, Jimmie doesn’t touch a drop of liquor. But, under pressure at work and struggling to support his family, Jimmie finally breaks down, steps into a speakeasy (this film was made during prohibition), and has a drink. Soon, Jimmie is a full-blown alcoholic, wandering the streets of New York while little school children shout, “He’s a beggin’ bum!” at him. Will Jimmie’s life be turned around as the result of hearing a sermon the radio? Or will he just keep drinking himself to death?

This was the last film on which Griffith was credited as being director. (Reportedly, he was an uncredited co-director on San Francisco.) It’s obviously a heart-felt work but, outside of the harrowing shot-on-location scenes of the unshaven Jimmie stumbling down the streets of the Bronx, the film is too overly theatrical and the performances are too stiff and unconvincing to really work. Griffith was still a visual stylist but, watching The Struggle, it’s obvious that he never learned how to work with speaking actors. As well, dialogue that would have worked on a title card came across as being over-the-top and preachy when actually uttered aloud.

That said, The Struggle has some interesting historic value, especially for those of us who tend to take the Libertarian point of view when it comes to the war on drugs. The Struggle opens with a scene that is set at a garden party in 1911. We listen to various conversations being held at each table. Two people debate whether the Biograph Girl is named Mary Pickford or Mary Packard. A man declares that Woodrow Wilson will never be President because he’s a college professor. (This is all the 1931 equivalent of that scene in Titanic where Billy Zane says that a painting was done by “Somebody Picasso. I’m sure nothing will ever become of him….”) Suddenly, scandal hits the garden party as it’s discovered that a woman has had too much to drink and is now drunk. Everyone at the party, on their own, shuns the woman and she is properly shamed.

The film jumps forward to 1923. Prohibition is now the law of the land and we find ourselves in a speakeasy. The thing that we immediately notice is that there are a lot more people in the speakeasy than were at that garden party and every single one of them is drunk. And, since liquor in now illegal, it’s no longer being bought from safe and trustworthy sources. Instead, it’s now being brewed in a back room. One bootlegger holds up a bottle of prohibition liquor and announces it to be poison before then sending it out to be drunk by the Jimmies of the world.

The film’s point, of course, is that community is a lot better when it comes to policing itself than the government is. The Struggle may not be a great film but it certainly has the right message.

Embracing the Melodrama Part II #3: The Big House (dir by George Hill)

Posted on April 6, 2015 by Lisa Marie Bowman

The 1930 Best Picture nominee The Big House opens with a black Model T car slowly pulling up to the front of a large and imposing prison. Handcuffed in the back seat of the car is a handsome, nervous-looking young man named Kent (Robert Montgomery). Kent is led into the prison where he is forced to hand over all of his possessions to a grim-looking guard. We find out that Kent has been convicted of manslaughter, the result of hitting someone while driving drunk. For the next ten years, this prison (which, we’re told, was designed to house 1,800 but actually holds 3,000) will be Kent’s home.

Kent finds himself sharing a cell with two lifers. Butch (Wallace Beery) is a coolly manipulative sociopath who alternatively counsels and abuses Kent. Meanwhile, Morgan (Chester Morris) tries to protect Kent and even helps him get his cigarettes back from Butch. These three prisoners represent the three faces of prison: Butch is the unrepentant criminal who is actually more at home in prison than in the “real” world. Morgan is the former criminal who has changed his ways but who is apparently destined to spend the rest of his life paying for his poor decisions. And Kent is the young man who has to decide if he’s going to be like Butch or if he’s going to be like Morgan. The Big House makes the still-relevant argument that the American prison system is more likely to turn Kents into Butches than into Morgans.

When the film began, I assumed that Kent would be the main character but actually, he’s secondary to most of the action. From the moment he first shows up, Kent is not particularly sympathetic and he becomes steadily less likable as the film progresses. Instead, the film is more focused on the always-scheming Butch and the regretful Morgan. While Morgan makes plans to escape from captivity and ends up falling in love with Kent’s sister (Leila Hyams), Butch spends his time plotting ways to take over the prison. For his performance as Butch, Wallace Beery won an Oscar but, seen today, it’s obvious that the film’s heart and soul belongs to Chester Morris’s Morgan.

Like a lot of films from the period, The Big House feels undeniably creaky when viewed through modern eyes. The Big House was made at a time when Hollywood was still trying to make the transition from silent to sound films. As such, the film’s pacing is slower than what contemporary audiences are used to and a few of the performances are undeniably theatrical. I can honestly say that I’m never been more aware of how much I take for granted nonstop background music than when I watch a movie from the early 30s.

That said, once you’ve adapted to the different aesthetic, The Big House holds up fairly well. Director George Hill films the prison like a town in a German expressionist horror film and Chester Morris’s performance remains sympathetic and compelling. If the plot seems familiar, it’s important to remember that The Big House is the film first introduced a lot of the clichés that we now take for granted.

The film’s best moments are the ones that deal not with Kent, Butch, and Morgan but instead just the ones that show hordes of prisoners — all anonymous and forgotten men — going about their daily life. It’s during those scenes that you realize just how many people have been crammed into one tiny space and why that makes it impossible for prison to reform the Kents of the world.

Gandhi once said that the true value of any society can be determined by how that society treats its prisoners and The Big House certainly makes that case.

Embracing the Melodrama, Part II: Wings (dir by William Wellman)

Posted on April 6, 2015 by Lisa Marie Bowman

As I mentioned in my previous review, Sunrise may have won the 1927 Oscar for Unique and Artistic Production but the official winner of the first Academy Award for Best Picture was the silent World War I romantic melodrama, Wings. Wings is one of those films that doesn’t seem to get much respect from contemporary critics, many of whom are quick to dismiss the film as being corny and clichéd. It’s not unusual to see Wings cited as being the first example of the Academy honoring the wrong film.

Wings tells the story of David Armstrong (Richard Arlen) and Jack Powell (Charles “Buddy” Rogers), who both live in the same small town and who are both in love with the pretty but self-centered Sylvia (Jobyna Ralston). Sylvia, meanwhile, is in love with the wealthy David but, when Jack asks for a picture of her, she gives him one that she had been planning to eventually give to David. Meanwhile, Mary (Clara Bow), who is literally the girl next door, pines for Jack.

When World War I breaks out, both Jack and David join the Air Force. At first they’re rivals but, under the pressure of combat and the threat of constant death, they become friends. When David flies, he has a tiny teddy bear to bring him luck. Jack, meanwhile, has Sylvia’s picture. Meanwhile, their tentmate — Cadet White (Gary Cooper) — insists that he doesn’t need any good luck charms and promptly suffers the consequences for upsetting God.

Meanwhile, Mary has joined the war effort and is driving an ambulance around Europe. Will Mary ever be able to convince Jack that they belong together? Will David ever catch the legendary German pilot, Kessler? Perhaps most importantly, will this new bromance be able to survive both war and the charms of Clara Bow? And finally, will anyone be surprised when all of this leads to a tragic conclusion with an ironic twist?

Wings has got such a bad reputation and is so frequently dismissed as being the first case of the Academy picking spectacle over quality that I was actually shocked when I watched it and discovered that Wings is actually a pretty good movie. Yes, it is totally predictable. Every possible war film cliche can be found in Wings. (From the minute that handsome and confident Gary Cooper announced that he didn’t need any lucky charms, I knew he was doomed.) And yes, the film does run long and it does feature a totally out-of-place subplot involving a character played by someone named El Brendel (who was apparently a popular comedian at the time). This is all true but, still, Wings works when taken on its own terms.

Here’s the thing with Wings: the aerial footage is still impressive (all the more so for being filmed without the benefit of CGI) and both Charles “Buddy” Rogers and Richard Arlen are handsome and appealing in a 1927 silent film sort of way. In fact, the entire film is appealing in a 1927 silent film sort of way. This is a time capsule, one that shows what films were like in the 20s and, as a result of the combat scenes, also provides a hint of what lay in the future for the film industry. Most importantly, Wings features Clara Bow, who has been my silent film girl crush ever since I first saw It. Whether she’s attempting to flirt with the clueless Rogers or hiding underneath her ambulance and shouting curses at the Germans flying above her, Clara brings a lot of life to every scene in which she appears.

If you’re a film historian, Wings is one of those films that you simply have to see and, fortunately for you, it’s actually better than you may have been led to think.

It’s currently available on Netflix.

Embracing the Melodrama, Part II: Sunrise (dir by F.W. Murnau)

Posted on April 6, 2015 by Lisa Marie Bowman

Last year, I published 60 film reviews under the heading of Embracing the Melodrama. Embracing the Melodrama was one of the first review series that I had ever done and I had so much fun doing it that I figured, “Why not try it again?”

In other words, welcome to Embracing the Melodrama, Part II!

Over the next three weeks, I will posting, in chronological order, 128 reviews of films that embrace the melodrama. As before, these reviews will be in chronological order and they will include everything from Oscar winners to grindhouse exploitation to made-for-television dramas. It should be fun!

And, considering that we’re talking about 128 reviews here, it should at least help me make a dent in my goal to see every single movie that has ever been made.

Let’s start things off by taking a quick look at the 1927 silent film, Sunrise. Directed by German expressionist F.W. Murnau, Sunrise is widely considered to be one of the greatest films ever made and for once, popular opinion is correct. The film tells a simple story. The Woman From The City (Margaret Livingston) takes a vacation out in the country. (We know she’s dangerous because she wears black lingerie.) She stands outside of a farmhouse and whistles. Soon, the Man (George O’Brien) steps out of the farmhouse and joins the Woman. Inside the farmhouse, the Wife (Janet Gaynor) can only dream of what life was like when she and the Man first fell in love.

The Man and the Woman meet at the edge of the lake and kiss as the moon shines down on them. They’re having an affair, though the film — in its dream-like way — leaves it ambiguous as to just how long the affair has been going on. (Indeed, the film almost seems to suggest that The Woman has sprung from the Man’s subconscious, a creation of his darkest desires.) The Woman wants the Man to murder his wife and come back to the city with her. At first, the Man refuses but, as the Woman talks to him, he starts to visualize the city. And, make no mistake about it — the city that the man visualizes is a scary place that resembles the dreamworld of The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari. But, at the same time, it’s also a lot more fun than the farm.

Now, you may be wondering why this familiar sounding tale is considered to be one of the best films of all time. The story itself is simple and deliberately allegorical. The film is less about the story and more about how Murnau tells it. Murnau fills the screen with hauntingly surreal images that are both beautiful and frightening at the same time. When the title cards appear on-screen, the lettering literally fades in and out and adds to the entire movie’s dream-like feel. Watch the scene below where the Woman first suggests killing the Wife and the Man visualizes the city:

Infatuated with the Woman, the Man plans to drown the Wife but, at the last minute, has a change of heart. The Wife, however, flees to the city herself. The Man follows her and attempts to win back her love. The city itself changes when the Man and the Wife are in it together. What seemed dark and threatening under the influence of the Woman is now revealed to be fun and vibrant. The film transforms from being an early example of film noir to being a screwball comedy.

How many other films can you think of that feature both a murderous femme fatale and a drunk pig?

And yet, as much joy as the Man and the Wife find in the city, both the farm and the Woman await their eventual return. And there’s a storm coming…

Interestingly enough, at the first Oscar ceremony, two awards were given for Best Picture of the year. The first award — for Outstanding Production — went to Wings, a big budget action spectacular about World War I. The other award — for Unique And Artistic Presentation — went to Sunrise. I’ve read a lot of speculation about which film the Academy meant to name the best of the year but, to me, it’s fairly obvious that the Academy meant for Outstanding Production to honor the year’s big blockbusters while Unique and Artistic Presentation would honor the “art” films.

And, to be honest, I think that, way back in 1928, the Academy had the right idea. Why should they only give out one award for best picture, as if all films can be judged by only one standard? Why not give out separate awards for the best comedy or the best thriller or the best film made for a certain amount of money? Why not bring back the Oscar for Unique and Artistic Presentation?

For whatever reason, the Academy discontinued the Unique and Artistic Presentation Award after the 1st ceremony and, in the future, only one film would be named best of the year. Since Outstanding Production eventually become known as Best Picture, Wings has been immortalized as the first film to win best picture.

And, nothing against Wings, but the Academy would have been smarter to have gone with Sunrise. Certainly, it would have won them the respect of future film students.

You can watch Sunrise below!

The Daily Grindhouse: Project Nightmare (dir by Donald M. Jones)

Posted on March 28, 2015 by Lisa Marie Bowman

Earlier tonight, the Late Night Movie crew and I watched Project Nightmare, an obscure little film from 1987. (Actually, it would be more correct to say that the film was released in 1987. Judging from the clothes, the cars, and the hair, the film was actually made at some point in the 70s.)

The best word that I can think to describe Project Nightmare would be weird. This is just a weird and trippy movie.

The film opens with Gus (Charles Miller) and John (Seth Foster), two friends who played football in college and who are now in the air conditioning business together. Gus is insecure and angst-ridden. John is confident and spends almost the entire movie with his shirt becoming progressively more and more unbuttoned. Gus and John go on a camping trip. As the film opens, they are both running from something that they think attacked their camp site. They’re not quite sure what it was and their descriptions remain frustratingly vague. Even when their mysterious pursuer comes near, we never get a clear look at it. Instead, we just hear buzzing on the soundtrack while the sky changes colors.

Gus and John come across a house sitting in the middle of nowhere. Inside the house is Marcie (Elly Koslo). Marcie doesn’t have a telephone but she does have a bottle of Scotch. As Gus and John drink, they sit on the floor because Marcie doesn’t appear to have any furniture in their house. Their conversation is stiff and oddly stilted and we’re left to wonder if this is the result of bad acting or if it’s just another sign of the film’s overall surreal atmosphere. Gus admits that he wants to sleep with Marcie and then proceeds to tell her a long and confusing story about why he and John are such good friends. John, meanwhile, dreams of a little boy running in a cemetery while a priest makes unintelligible sounds.

The next morning, as the two men leave the house, we hear a howling wind and yet none of the surrounding plant life appears to be swaying. Was this just bad filmmaking or was it another example of the director trying to create a sense of unease? It’s not an easy question to answer but I’m willing to give director Donald Jones the benefit of the doubt.

The two men walk. A mysterious light pursues them. They come across a man sitting in a car. Gus and John get in the car. The man lays down in the back seat and promptly dies. They drive back to Marcie’s house and manage to get Marcie to come outside right before the entire house vanishes. Eventually, they somehow come across an airplane sitting in the middle of the desert. Gus gets in the plane and flies away, leaving John and Marcie behind. Both Marcie and the car vanish. John wanders alone.

And then the movie really starts to get weird…

How weird? I mean weird as in a character finding a pyramid in the middle of the desert. I mean weird like a room where a woman dances in slow motion while a group of shadowy men applaud. I mean weird like a big floating head that taunts those below it…

I mean weird.

And here’s another odd thing about Project Nightmare. I’ve done a google search, I’ve read what it says on the imdb, and there is next to no information out there about how this film came to be. As I previously stated, the film was obviously made nearly a decade before it was actually released. Director Donald Jones served a director, writer, and editor on this and three other films but hasn’t had a film released since 1993. Meanwhile, the film’s cast is also similarly obscure.

Project Nightmare is an enigma. Everything about this film — from the obscure storyline to the miniscule budget to the unnatural dialogue to the stiff acting — comes together to create an otherworldly viewing experience. And that’s why you simply must watch it at least once! Whether it was meant to be or not, Project Nightmare is something of a surrealistic masterpiece.

And guess what?

It’s on YouTube!

Watch it now before it gets taken down.

Film Review: Dragonheart 3: The Sorcerer’s Curse (dir by Colin Teague)

Posted on March 24, 2015 by Lisa Marie Bowman

Before I get into this quick review of Dragonheart 3, I better admit that I haven’t seen the first two Dragonheart films. I assume that they all had something to do with dragons. As a result, I can’t tell you whether or not Dragonheart 3 is better than Dragonheart 2 or whether it’s worthy of being associated with the original Dragonheart.

But, then again, that’s not necessarily a bad thing. Ultimately, all films — even sequels and prequels — have to be able to stand on their own and be judged based on their own individual merits. And, speaking as someone who knows nothing about the previous films in the series, Dragonheart 3 has a good deal more merit than you might expect.

The film’s plot … well, does the plot really matter? Surprisingly enough, it does. It’s obvious that the filmmakers understood that the main appeal of the film would be to see the dragon but they at least made an effort to keep the film’s non-dragon scenes interesting as well. Taking place in post-Roman, pre-medieval Britain, Dragonheart 3 tells the story of two separate societies that are divided by Hadrian’s Wall. On the “civilized” side of the wall, villagers live in fear of brutish knights who, in the best tradition of governmental overreach, claim to be providing protection but are mostly just interested in collecting exorbitant taxes and bullying the citizenry. On the other side of the wall, fierce warriors live in the wilderness and resist all forms of government control. Meanwhile, an evil sorcerer named Brude (Jonjo O’Neill) plots to conquer both the civilized and the uncivilized.

(And if I wanted to, I could explain how the civilized side of the wall represents our corrupt federal government, the warriors on the other side of the wall represent the grassroots political activists, and Brude represents any number of cynical politicians and so-called “community organizers” who have used those activists to pave their way into becoming a part of the same corrupt government that they claim to be attempting to reform. But, I’ll save that for another day…)

On the civilized side of the wall, cocky Gareth (Julian Morris) wants to be a knight but, when he proves to be too kind-hearted to be an efficient extortionist, he is expelled from the knighthood and told that he can only rejoin if he pays a penalty. Later, that night, Gareth sees a comet fall onto the other side of the wall. Thinking that the comet will contain gold, Gareth sneaks over the wall and goes in search of it.

When Gareth does finally find the comet, he discovers that it contains several eggs and a dragon named Drago (voiced by Sir Ben Kingsley). It also turns out that Brude is also hunting for the dragon and its eggs and, when Gareth is severely injured while fighting Brude’s warriors, Drago saves Gareth’s life with an infusion of blood which leads to Gareth and Drago sharing a heart and becoming psychically linked…

There’s a surprising amount of plot in Dragonheart 3 but it can all be boiled down to this: Brude wants to conquer Britain and he’s cast a spell that allows him to occasionally control Drago. Gareth has to both break the spell and defeat Brude. Along the way, Gareth learns from Drago’s noble example and becomes a stronger knight and a better man.

Against all expectations, it’s all actually rather nice and sweet, with surprisingly good CGI for a low-budget, direct-to-video film. As well, Kingsley brings a wounded dignity to the voice of Drago and Julian Morris gives a sincere and likable performance as Gareth. It’s doubtful that anyone would have noticed if the two of them had just gone through the motions but instead, both of them give performances that elevate the entire film.

However, I have to admit that my favorite character was Rhou (Tamzin Merchant), a warrior who joins with Gareth and Drago to battle Brude. Not only is Rhou fierce and fearless but, much like me, she has red hair! Only 2% of the world has red hair and we all kick ass.

Dragonheart 3 is currently available on Netflix and it’s not a bad way to spend 97 minutes.

The Things You Find On Netflix: The Last House On Cemetery Lane (dir by Andrew Jones)

Posted on March 24, 2015 by Lisa Marie Bowman

Usually, I like to think that I can find something to love about any horror film but occasionally, I watch one that is so ineptly produced and so devoid of both horror and subtext that even I have to admit that it’s just not a very good film.

Case in point: The Last House On Cemetery Lane, a British horror film that I watched on Netflix last month. I actually had high hopes for the film, based on the title alone. The title, of course, reminded me of such classic horror thrillers as Last House On The Left, The House On The Edge of the Park, The House At The End of the Street, Last House On Dead End Street, and The House By The Cemetery. These are all films that have their strengths and weaknesses but the main thing that they have in common is that, years and, in some cases, decades after first being released, they still carry the power to either scare or disturb.

The Last House On Cemetery Lane does neither.

In fact, the title itself doesn’t really work because, as far as I can tell, the house is not actually located on cemetery lane. And it’s not exactly the last house on its street either. If anything, it appears to be the only house on its street. To be honest, I can’t even remember if there’s a cemetery located anywhere near the house and, quite frankly, I’m not going to force myself sit through this film for a second time just to find out.

The Last House On Cemetery Lane tells a familiar story. Screenwriter John (who is played by Lee Bane and, giving credit where credit is due, Bane actually gives a pretty good performance) needs to write a script and he needs to get away from the distractions of London. So, he rents a house in Wales. As he tours the house, his real estate agent (played by Tessa Wood) informs him that there’s a blind old woman named Agnes who lives up in the attic but he won’t have to worry about her because he’ll never see her.

Needless to say, John isn’t thrilled about that idea but, after a minute or two of considering it, he decides that he can handle living in a house with creepy old Agnes up in the attic.

Really?

Okay, John is a screenwriter so I’m going to assume that he’s seen a movie before. Doesn’t he know that any time you’re told that there’s a creepy old woman living in the attic that means that something bad is going to happen?

Anyway, John moves into the manor and then he spends a few hours wandering around the nearby village and walking on the beach. He finds a bottle washed up on the beach. In the bottle, there’s a piece of paper that reads “Message.” John laughs and throws the bottle back out into the ocean. And the movie goes on like that for a while. As a veteran movie watcher, I kept expecting the bottle to show back up but it never did. Apparently, that whole thing with the bottle was just included to pad out the film’s running time.

Speaking of running time, this film lasts 112 minutes and you will feel every single one of those 112 minutes. The Last House On Cemetery Lane is literally one of the slowest films that I have ever watched. The deliberate pace may have been intended to work as an atmosphere builder but no … this film has no atmosphere. It’s just kind of there.

Anyway, eventually, some things start to happen. It’s all the usual haunted house crap. Things go bump in the night. Music keeps playing. John meets a mysterious woman (Georgina Blackledge) who has secrets of her own. John runs around the house and demands to know who is haunting it. He talks to the mysterious woman. He knocks on Agnes’s door. Things go bump. Music plays. John talks to the mysterious woman. John knocks on Agnes’s door. John runs around the house and demands to know who is haunting it. He talks to the…

BLEH!

Okay, so you might be getting the idea that not much happens in Last House On Cemetery Lane. And you would be right. What kills the film is that it ultimately becomes so repetitive. There’s only so many times that you can listen to John bitch about living in a haunted house before you just say, “Then move, you jerk!” Ironically, the film probably would have worked just fine if it has just been a 15-minute short. But stretching material this thin out to nearly two hours — well, it just doesn’t work.

I love horror films but The Last House On Cemetery Lane is one to avoid.

What Lisa Watched Last Night #118: Stalked By My Neighbor (dir by Doug Campbell)

Posted on March 22, 2015 by Lisa Marie Bowman

Last night, I watched the latest Lifetime original movie, Stalked By My Neighbor.

Why Was I Watching It?

Well, of course, the obvious reason was because it was on Lifetime and I love Lifetime movies. But, even if I wasn’t a Lifetime movie addict, I probably would have watched Stalked By My Neighbor. Stalked By My Neighbor is a great title. Whenever you see a Lifetime movie with the word “Stalk” in the title, you know that it’s going to be a good one.

What Was It About?

It’s a Lifetime homage to Rear Window! Jodi (Kelcie Stranahan) and her mother (Amy Pietz) move to the suburbs. A talented photographer, Jodi is still struggling to deal with the after-effects of a horrifying home invasion. Hiding out in her bedroom, Jodi watches her new neighborhood through the lens of her camera and eventually comes to believe that she may have witnessed the murder of a neighbor (Kelly Packard). While the police suspect that the murderer was the cute boy who lives next door (Grant Harvey), Jodi suspects that it may have actually been the dead woman’s niece (Katrina Norman). Soon, Jodi, camera in hand, is stalking her neighbors and trying to solve the mystery.

What Worked?

Stalked By My Neighbor was directed by Doug Campbell, who earlier this year gave us Sugar Daddies. As I previously stated in my review of Sugar Daddies, Campbell is one of the better filmmakers to regularly make films for Lifetime. (He also directed several of my favorite ….At 17 movies.) Much as he did with Sugar Daddies, Campbell strikes just the right balance between melodrama and realism. As both director and screenwriter, he pushes the story as far as it can go without allowing things to go overboard. The end result is a very entertaining film that is the epitome of why people like me love Lifetime movies.

Kelcie Stranahan was well-cast as Jodi and she had a lot of chemistry with Grant Harvey. As well, she and Amy Pietz were totally believable as mother-and-daughter. Wisely, while the film had a lot of fun with the more melodramatic elements of the mystery plot, Jodi’s PTSD was played totally straight and Stranahan did a great job of capturing Jodi’s fragile mental state. By the end of the film, Jodi is a role model for survivors everywhere.

What Did Not Work?

It all worked. This was Lifetime moviemaking at its best!

“Oh my God! Just like me!” Moments

I totally related to the character of Jodi, which is a huge reason why I enjoyed the movie. Towards the end of the film, Jodi had a fight with her mom and ended up getting grounded. Afterward, Jodi made it a point to elaborately apologize and then, as soon as her mom left the room, Jodi was sneaking out the bedroom window. That one scene pretty much epitomized my senior year of high school.

And really, the relationship between Jodi and her mom was the main reason why I loved Stalked By Neighbor. Don’t get me wrong. The mystery was fun. Grant Harvey was cute and the scene where he dances with Jodi was really well done. But ultimately, the film worked for me because I related so much to Jodi and I saw so much of my mom in her mom.

Lessons Learned

If you think you’re neighbor might be a murderer, always make sure you have an extra memory card for your camera. (Seriously, watch the movie. It’ll make sense.)

The Daily Grindhouse: Cruel Jaws (dir by Bruno Mattei)

Posted on March 22, 2015 by Lisa Marie Bowman

“Whattya say we go hunt some freaking sharks?” (picture credit: Mondo Exploito)

Believe it or not, Samson vs. The Vampire Women was not the only bad film that I watched with the Late Night Movie Gang on Saturday night. We also watched a movie from 1995 that was called Cruel Jaws. You might be able to guess from the title that the film is a rip-off of Jaws but this is no ordinary rip-off! This is literally the worst shark movie that I’ve ever seen.

And yet, it was so bad that it was also oddly fascinating. Listen, any director can rip-off Jaws. It happens all the time and, for the most part, the majority of Jaws rip-offs are forgettable. It takes true talent to make something like Cruel Jaws, a film that is so terrible that it cannot be forgotten!

After watching Cruel Jaws, I was inspired to look it up on the imdb and I was not particularly shocked to discover that it was directed by the infamous Italian filmmaker Bruno Mattei. Given that Mattei was notorious for reusing footage from previous films, I figured that I would reuse a paragraph that I originally wrote for a review of his 1984 film, Rats: Night of Terror:

“While it’s generally agreed that Mattei was responsible for making some of the worst films in history, I’ve always had a sneaky admiration for him. It’s hard not to love someone who defies the odds while pursuing his dream. Mattei’s dream was to make movies and he never allowed a thing like budget or talent to stand in his way. While Mattei is best known for taking over the direction of Zombi 3 after Lucio Fulci walked off the set, he was a prolific director who dabbled in every genre.”

If nothing else, Cruel Jaws was definitely a case of Mattei defying the odds. Critics might point out that the film is basically a scene-for-scene remake of Jaws that even features some of the exact same dialogue. Mattei says, “So? I’ll call the movie Cruel Jaws and we’ll pretend it’s a sequel.” Critics might say that no one in the film can act. Mattei says, “So? I’ll just make my hero a guy with platinum blonde hair and a Fu Manchu mustache and you’ll be so busy staring at him, you won’t even notice that he can’t act!” Critics might point out that Mattei made a film about a killer shark without actually investing in a shark. Mattei says, “So? I’ll just use stock footage and lift a lot of scenes from other shark movies!” Critics might complain that all of the stock footage and lifted scenes are edited together in such a haphazard way that the film is next to impossible to follow. Mattei says, “Shut up and listen to the score, which I literally lifted from Star Wars and Indiana Jones.” Critics might suggest that all of this involves some sort of copyright violation. Mattei says — well, by this point, Bruno would probably have left the building to count his money and have a good laugh.

“Check out that shark stock footage!” (picture credit: Mondo Exploito)

What really makes Cruel Jaws interesting is that, while 90% of the film is lifted from other films, the 10% that isn’t is truly weird. For instance, the film’s hero is named Dag Snerson and he owns a water park that is apparently made up of exactly two dolphins and a sea lion. His daughter is probably the most cheerful wheelchair-bound child ever. There’s a subplot involving the mafia. Two girls start yelling “Dickbrain” at two boys that they like.

It’s all pretty bad and pretty weird but it’s pure Bruno Mattei and therefore, it’s all oddly forgivable.

And guess what?

You can watch Cruel Jaws below!

The Daily Grindhouse: Samson vs. The Vampire Women (dir by Alfonso Corona Blake)

Posted on March 21, 2015 by Lisa Marie Bowman

Just a few hours ago, I gathered with my friends in the Late Night Movie Gang and we watched the classic Mexican “horror” film, Santo vs. las Mujeres Vampiro (or, as it was released over here in the states, Samson Vs. The Vampire Women.) You’ll notice that I put the word horror in quotes because there was really nothing traditionally scary about Samson Vs. The Vampire Women.

The film opens with a bunch of vampire women waking up after being asleep for hundreds of years. When we first see the vampire women, they all look like they have really bad skin and could really use some moisturizer. However, once they drink some blood and say some magic words, they all suddenly look really pretty and they get to wear these really nice white dresses as well.

The queen of the vampires, Thorina (Lorena Valesquez), has been tasked with finding a bride for the Evil One and her pick is Diana (Maria Duval), who is the daughter of Prof. Orlof (Augusto Benedico). We know that Orlof is intelligent because he wears glasses, has a beard, and his English-language dialogue has been dubbed by an actor who has a deep, intellectual voice. However, despite being brilliant, Orlof is totally ineffectual when it comes to protecting his daughter from being turned into a vampire.

(Diana, we’re told, is on the verge of turning 21. She looks like she’s closer to 40.)

And, of course, we get all of the things that you would expect from a low-budget, black-and-white vampire movie. Bats fly by on strings. Whenever Thorina needs to hypnotize someone, we get a closeup of her eyes. Whenever the sun shines, all of the vampires scream and run out of the room. It’s all pretty typical and, as a result, not particularly scary.

What is scary, however, is the man who Orlof summons to protect his daughter. Not only can Samson (played by real-life Mexican wrestler Santo) fight vampires and communicate with people via television but he’s a professional wrestler as well! In fact, Diana would probably have nothing to worry about if not for the fact that Samson has to balance protecting her with his lucrative wrestling career.

What I’m saying here is that there’s a lot of wrestling in Samson vs. The Vampire Women. Not only does Samson wrestle with vampires but he also wrestles with ordinary, every day wrestlers. Even when he’s not wrestling, Samson runs around in his wrestling outfit — mask, cape, manties, and bulge.

(Oddly enough, none of the vampire women ever think to maybe kick Samson in that bulge, which is probably what I would do if I was ever suddenly approached by someone dressed like Samson…)

Now, I know what you’re wondering. And the answer is no. We never get to see what Samson looks like under the mask. I assume that he looked like Jack Black but who knows for sure?

Anyway, Samson vs. The Vampire Women is probably one of those films that everyone should see at least once, if just because that way you won’t be left out of any inside jokes that may develop between your friends once they’ve actually experienced it for themselves. It’s not a particularly good film but it’s certainly an odd one and there’s definitely something to be said for that.

You can watch it below!