Review: Frank Herbert’s Children of Dune

Posted on March 29, 2026 by Arleigh

“To know the future is to be trapped by it.” — Leto II Atreides

Children of Dune is one of those sci-fi miniseries that feels a little rough around the edges, but still manages to hit with real ambition, atmosphere, and a lot more emotional weight than its modest TV budget might suggest. It is based on Frank Herbert’s Dune Messiah and Children of Dune, aired on the Sci Fi Channel in 2003 as a three-part miniseries, and it serves as a continuation of the 2000 Frank Herbert’s Dune adaptation.

What makes this version stand out is that it doesn’t just try to retell a story about desert politics and giant worms. It digs into legacy, prophecy, religious fanaticism, and the terrifying cost of being treated like a messiah. That sounds heavy, and it is, but the miniseries keeps moving with enough drama, betrayals, and strange mythic energy that it rarely feels static.

The opening section works especially well because it immediately reminds you that Paul Atreides’ victory was never a clean one. By the time the story gets going, his empire is already rotting from the inside, and the series makes a strong case that power on Arrakis is always poisoned by something, whether it is politics, faith, or the sand itself. The shift from Paul’s once-legendary rise to the unraveling of the world around his children gives the story a tragic tone that fits Herbert’s universe perfectly.

A big reason the miniseries works is that it understands Dune is not really about flashy action, even though it has some. It is about ideas, and this adaptation is willing to spend time on them. The show’s best material comes from the way it frames religion as both weapon and trap, especially once the myth of Muad’Dib starts consuming the people who worshiped him. That theme gives the whole thing a haunted feeling, like everyone is living inside a prophecy they do not fully understand.

The cast does a lot of heavy lifting, too. Alec Newman brings a wounded, exhausted quality to Paul that fits the role well, and his scenes carry real sadness because he feels like a man who has seen too far and cannot unsee it. Jessica Brooks, James McAvoy, and Julie Cox all help ground the family drama, while Susan Sarandon brings a cold intensity that gives the political side of the story some bite. Even when the dialogue gets stiff, the actors usually sell the material better than the script itself does.

One of the most interesting choices in Children of Dune is how it treats the twins, Leto II and Ghanima, as more than just plot devices. Their importance is obvious from the beginning, but the series gradually builds them into the real center of gravity. That works because the story is partly about inheritance, and these kids are inheriting not just a throne, but a nightmare of destiny, expectation, and manipulation. The series knows that the most dangerous thing in this universe is not a blade or a bomb, but a future someone insists is already written.

The production design is another area where the miniseries earns a lot of goodwill. It has that early-2000s TV look, sure, and some effects are clearly limited by the era, but the sets, costumes, and overall visual imagination give it a strong sense of place. Arrakis feels harsh and ceremonial at the same time, which is exactly what it should feel like. The costumes also help sell the political divide between factions, making the whole thing look more like a living empire than a generic sci-fi stage.

There are moments where the miniseries feels very theatrical, almost to a fault. Characters occasionally deliver lines with so much seriousness that the show risks sounding like it is declaring its themes instead of dramatizing them. That said, this is also part of the charm. Children of Dune is not embarrassed by its own scale or its own weirdness, and that confidence helps it pull off material that could easily have collapsed under a more self-conscious approach.

The pacing is mostly solid across the three parts, though it does have the usual miniseries issue of compressing a very large story into a limited runtime. Because it covers most of Dune Messiah in the first installment and then adapts Children of Dune in the later parts, some transitions feel abrupt and some developments move faster than they probably should. Still, the adaptation largely keeps its focus, and it is impressive how much story it packs in without turning into total chaos.

If there is a weakness here, it is that the miniseries can sometimes feel like it is working harder to explain the mythology than to make you feel it. Herbert’s world is notoriously dense, and this version does not always smooth that out for viewers who are not already familiar with the books. A newcomer could easily feel like they have been dropped into the middle of a dynastic collapse with very little hand-holding. But for a follow-up to Frank Herbert’s Dune, that density is more of a feature than a bug.

The best compliment I can give Children of Dune is that it respects the seriousness of its material without becoming completely lifeless. It has the courage to be grand, strange, and a little mournful all at once. Even when the execution is uneven, the miniseries understands that the heart of this saga is not a simple battle for power. It is the burden of seeing the future and realizing it may be worse than the present.

As a sequel, it improves on the sense of scale and emotional consequence from the earlier adaptation. It feels less like an introduction to a universe and more like the tragic fallout of one. That makes it a more satisfying watch for viewers who want Dune to feel like an epic family tragedy instead of just a sand-covered political thriller. The fact that it does this on TV, with all the limitations that implies, makes the achievement even more impressive.

In the end, Children of Dune is a flawed but memorable miniseries that succeeds because it commits to its own strange seriousness. It may not be sleek, and it may not always be easy to follow, but it has ideas, mood, and a genuine sense of doom that suits Herbert’s universe. For fans of the books, it is one of the more interesting screen adaptations because it is willing to lean into the philosophical and tragic side of the saga rather than sanding it down into something safer. For everyone else, it is still a fascinating piece of early-2000s sci-fi television that swings bigger than most shows of its era.

Music Film Review: The Rocky Horror Picture Show (dir by Jim Sharman)

Posted on October 31, 2025 by Lisa Marie Bowman

It feels strange to actually watch The Rocky Horror Picture Show without an audience.

I say this because the film is actually far better known for its fans than anything else. First released in 1975 to middling reviews and, at first, anemic box office returns, The Rocky Horror Picture Show went on to become the first great cult film. It’s literally been playing in theaters for 25 years, which has to be some sort of record. When one sees Rocky Horror Picture Show in a theater, one does not merely sit back and watch in a state of suspended animation. Instead, most of the audience becomes a part of the show. They yell, they dance, and many of them return night-after-night. I have been to two midnight showings of the Rocky Horror Picture Show and I have to admit that it was actually pretty intimidating both times. The people in the audience — the veterans who knew every line and knew exactly what to do — were, more or less, friendly. I’ve read some online horror stories about people who felt like they weren’t welcome the first time they attended a showing. I had the opposite experience. No one was rude, no one glared. It was definitely a cliquey group but I felt as if they had earned the right to be in their clique. No one seemed to be bothered by the fact that I was mostly there just to observe. (I should also mention that neither showing that I attended demanded that the first-time watchers stand up or go to the front of the theater or anything like that. Apparently, there’s quite a few people online who got upset over being singled-out as “virgins” and never got over it.) But it was intimidating in much the same way as meeting a friend of a friend is intimidating or exploring a new town is intimidating. I was surrounded by people who had a deep connection with each other, one that had been forged by sharing the same experience for years. It was a communal experience that was actually touching to see, even if I never stopped feeling like an outsider.

It’s interesting to compare the midnight showings of The Rocky Horror Picture Show to the midnight showings of The Room. I attended several midnight showings of The Room and I have to admit that I eventually soured on them as it became clear that many people were showing up to taunt the film as opposed to enjoying it for the odd, communal experience that it was. The last few The Room showings that I attended were filled with a hostility that left me feeling a bit uncomfortable. Whereas The Room’s cult has often felt a bit mean-spirited (as if everyone had gathered together to laugh at Tommy Wiseau for thinking he could make a movie), The Rocky Horror Picture Show‘s cult is based on a genuine love for the film.

As for the film itself, I watched it last month without an audience and I judged it solely as a film. The pacing is a bit off and, without the group experience, it’s a lot easier to notice that the film’s storyline doesn’t make a bit of sense, though that was undoubtedly deliberate on the part of the filmmakers. That said, Tim Curry’s performance still gives the film a jolt of energy, recapturing your attention and holding it until the film comes to a close. (The genius of Curry’s performance as that, as flamboyant as it is, he still plays Dr. Frank-n-Furter as being an actual characters with feelings and emotions. He doesn’t just coast on attitude. One need only compare him to Laverne Cox in the 2016 TV production to see how strong Curry’s performance is.) Susan Sarandon brings some depth to her performance as Janet and, if Barry Bostwick is a little on the dull side of Brad …. well, the heroes who appeared in the film that Rocky Horror sends up were rarely that exciting. I enjoyed the snarky humor of Richard O’Brien’s performance and the energy that Meat Loaf brought to the production. Charles Gray, in the role of the Criminologist, really doesn’t get enough credit for holding the film’s disparate parts together.

In the end, when viewed as a film as opposed to a communal experience, The Rocky Horror Picture Show is undoubtedly flawed but it’s still energetic enough to work. The love for the old sic-fi films comes through and Tim Curry’s uninhibited performance works with or without an audience. The Rocky Horror Picture Show is a film that brings people together and I hope it continues to do so.

Checkered Flag or Crash (1977, directed by Alan Gibson)

Posted on May 17, 2025 by Jedadiah Leland

Joe Don Baker stars at “Walkaway” Madden, a race car driver who got that name because he has always managed to walk away from every crash. When Madden agrees to compete in an off-road race through the Philippines, he is not happy to discover that his sponsor has arranged for a female journalist named C.C. Wainwright (Susan Sarandon) to accompany him and record his adventures. Walkaway’s a good ol’ boy and C.C.’s an independent woman but wouldn’t you know it, they’re in love by the end of the race.

This has one of the most simple plots that I’ve ever seen. Madden and C.C. race through the jungle and there’s never really any doubt about how the race is going to end because all of the other drivers are terrible, except for Madden’s former partner, Doc Pyle (Alan Vint). A manic Larry Hagman plays Bo Cochran, the promoter who put the race together, and gets the majority of the film’s laughs. When I watched this movie, I thought it had been made to capitalize on the success of Smokey and the Bandit but then I saw that Checkered Flag actually came out a few months before Burt Reynolds and Jackie Gleason hit the drive-in circuit. The young Susan Sarandon is a lively presence and she has a surprising amount of chemistry with Joe Don Baker, ideally cast here as a good ol’ boy who likes to drive fast. The movie doesn’t hold many surprises but the game cast keeps it watchable.

Director Alan Gibson was a Canadian filmmaker who had previously worked for Hammer films, directing the last of their Dracula films before he eventually found himself in the Philippines, working with Larry Hagman, Susan Sarandon, and Joe Don Baker.

Film Review: A Dry White Season (dir by Euzhan Palcy)

Posted on April 3, 2025 by Lisa Marie Bowman

In 1990, Marlon Brando received his final Academy Award nomination when he was nominated for his supporting performance in 1989’s A Dry White Season.

Brando played Ian McKenzie, a human rights lawyer who lives and work in South Africa at the height of the Apartheid regime. When we first see McKenzie, he’s sitting in his office and complaining about how all the flowers surrounding him have given him a permanent allergy. When Ben Du Toit (Donald Sutherland) explains that he’s trying to learn the truth about why his gardener and his gardener’s son both died in the custody of South Africa’s “special branch,” McKenzie replies that bringing the case would be a waste of time. McKenzie makes several dismissive comments about the case and tells Du Toit that pursing the matter would lead to Du Toit becoming a pariah himself. Only when Du Toit says that he’ll just find another lawyer to pursue the manner does McKenzie agree to take the case. His comments may have seemed callous but they were McKenzie’s way of testing Du Toit’s commitment to actually getting to the truth.

Up until the death of his gardener, Ben Du Toit was someone who blindly believed in the system. A former rugby star and a teacher, Ben grew up in South Africa and is proud to call himself a “true African.” (In one of the film’s best scenes, Ben’s driver, Stanley — played by Zakes Mokae, — informs Ben that being an African in South Africa means not being allowed to vote and having to carry identification papers everywhere with him.) When the gardener’s son is first arrested, Ben repeatedly says, “He must have done something.” When Ben’s gardener is arrested, Ben believes that it’s all just a terrible mistake and that he’ll be released soon. Even after the gardener is killed, Ben initially believes the official story that the death was a suicide. It’s only after Stanley takes Ben to the funeral home and shows him the gardener’s tortured body that Ben finally comes to realize that he was tortured to death by Captain Stolz (Jurgen Prochow).

Still, Ben is naive enough to assume that McKenzie will be able to get some sort of justice. In court, McKenzie easily exposes the flaws in Stolz’s story. When Stolz claims that the dead man’s injuries were the result of the man throwing himself against the bars of his cell, McKenzie mentions that the man’s back was injured and then asks if he was throwing himself backwards. Stolz smirks and says that the man was “an animal.” McKenzie may be a brilliant lawyer but it’s a foregone conclusion that he’s going to lose the case. Stolz is exonerated and the expression on McKenzie’s face is one that indicate that he is not surprised at all.

It’s a small role. Brando gets less than ten minutes of screentime but he makes perfect use of them and shows that, even in the latter half of his career, Brando could still give a good performance when he cared about the material. Both Brando and Susan Sarandon took small roles in this anti-Apartheid drama because they believed in the message. Sarandon’s casting is a bit distracting. She never becomes the journalist she’s playing, instead she just seems like a movie star lending her name to a cause that she believes in. But Brando becomes Ian McKenzie and he expertly reveals the absurd lengths to which the Apartheid government will go to excuse its actions.

The majority of the film deals with Ben Du Toit and his slow-awakening about the truth of the country that he calls home. Upon realizing the truth about the country’s government and its actions, Du Toit declares that he can no longer go back to being who he once was and it costs him his family, his home, and ultimately his life. Donald Sutherland does a wonderful job, portraying Du Toit’s growing understanding of what’s actually happening in South Africa. Wisely, the film doesn’t portray Du Toit as being a saint. It fully understands that Du Toit only started to care about Apartheid when it effected somebody that he knew and fortunately, Stanley is always there to call Du Toit out whenever he starts to forget about his own role in supporting the system that he now opposes. It’s a powerful and heartfelt film, one that is well-known for Brando’s performance but works just as well when Brando is off-screen as well.

14 Days of Paranoia #6: The Player (dir by Robert Altman)

Posted on February 20, 2025 by Lisa Marie Bowman

1992’s The Player tells the story of Griffin Mill (Tim Robbins).

It’s not easy being Griffin Mill. From the outside, of course, it looks like he has the perfect life. He’s a studio executive with a nice house in Hollywood. He’s young. He’s up-and-coming. Some people, especially Griffin, suspect that he’ll be the president of the studio some day. By day, he sits in his office and listens to pitches from respected screenwriters like Buck Henry. (Henry has a great idea for The Graduate II!) During the afternoon, he might attends dailies and watch endless takes of actors like Scott Glenn and Lily Tomlin arguing with each other. Or he might go to lunch and take a minute to say hello to Burt Reynolds. (“Asshole,” Burt says as Griffin walks away.) At night, he might go to a nice party in a big mansion and mingle with actors who are both young and old. He might even run into and share some sharp words with Malcolm McDowell.

But Griffin’s life isn’t as easy as it seems. He’s constantly worried about his position in the studio, knowing that one box office failure could end his career. He fears that a new executive named Larry Levy (Peter Gallagher) is after his job. Two new screenwriters (Richard E. Grant and Dean Stockwell) keep bugging him to produce their downbeat, no-stars anti-capitol punishment film. His girlfriend (Cynthia Stevenson) wants to make good movies that mean something. Even worse, someone is sending Griffin threatening notes.

It doesn’t take long for Griffin to decide that the notes are coming from a screenwriter named Dave Kahane (Vincent D’Onofrio). Griffin’s attempt to arrange a meeting with Dave at a bar so that Griffin can offer him a production deal instead leads to Griffin murdering Dave in a parking lot. While the other writers in Hollywood mourn Dave’s death, Griffin starts a relationship with Dave’s artist girlfriend (Great Scacchi) and tried to hide his guilt from two investigating detectives (Whoopi Goldberg and Lyle Lovett). Worst of all, the notes keep coming. The writer, whomever they may be, is now not only threatening Griffin but also seems to know what Griffin did.

After spend more than a decade in the industry wilderness, Robert Altman made a critical and commercial comeback with The Player. It’s a satire of Hollywood but it’s also a celebration of the film industry, featuring 60 celebrities cameoing as themselves. Everyone, it seems, wanted to appear in a movie that portrayed studio execs as being sociopathic and screenwriters as being whiny and kind of annoying. The Player both loves and ridicules Hollywood and the often anonymous men who run the industry. Largely motivated by greed and self-preservation, Griffin may not love movies but he certainly loves controlling what the public sees. In the end, only one character in The Player sticks to her values and her ideals and, by the end of the movie, she’s out of a job. At the same time, Griffin has a social life that those in the audience can’t help but envy. He can’t step out of his office without running into someone famous.

The Player is one Altman’s most entertaining films, with the camera continually tracking from one location to another and giving as a vision of Hollywood that feels very much alive. Tim Robbins gives one of his best performances as Griffin Mill and Altman surrounds him with a great supporting cast. I especially liked Fred Ward as the studio’s head of security. With The Player, Altman mixes melodrama with a sharp and sometimes bizarre comedy, with dialogue so snappy that the film is as much a joy to listen to as to watch. That said, the real attraction of the film is spotting all of the celebrity cameos. (That and cheering when Bruce Willis saves Julia Roberts from certain death.) Altman was a director who often used his films to explore eccentric communities. With The Player, he opened up his own home.

Previous entries in 2025’s 14 Days Of Paranoia:

I Watched Bull Durham (1988, dir. by Ron Shelton)

Posted on January 11, 2025 by Dazzling Erin

In Bull Durham, Kevin Costner plays Crash Davis, a veteran catcher in the minor leagues who is brought onto the Durham Bulls so that he can teach a rookie pitcher, Ebby LaLoosh (Tim Robbins), how to play the game and also get him ready for his inevitable move to the major leagues. Also helping to get the dim-witted but sincere Ebby ready is Annie Savoy (Susan Sarandon), who worships at the Church of Baseball and who has an affair with a different player every season. The film follows the Bulls through their season, as both Crash and Annie mentor Ebby while also falling in love with each other. Ebby even gets a nickname, Nuke.

Considering how much I love baseball, it might surprise you to learn that, up until recently, I had never seen Bull Durham. I had read that it was one of the best baseball movies ever made but I never actually watched it. I’m glad that I finally did watch it because it is a really good baseball movie. It’s a movie that loves the game and I wasn’t surprised that the director was a former minor league player because Bull Durham is full of the type of details that you would only get from someone who had actually been there. I especially liked the scene where it was revealed what the players and the coaches are actually talking about when they all gather on the pitcher’s mound. It turns out that they’re not always talking about how to strike out the pitcher.

The love triangle part of the film didn’t work as well as for me. I could relate to Annie’s love for baseball but her character still didn’t quite ring true for me and her narration was overdone. Both Annie and Nuke seemed cartoonish whenever they got together. Kevin Costner, though, was great as Crash Davis. He was believable as an athlete and a mentor. My favorite Costner moment was when a batboy told him to “Get a hit, Crash,” and he replied, “Shut up.” It rang true.

I don’t agree with those who say Bull Durham is the best baseball movie. I think Eight Men Out is better. But I still enjoyed Bull Durham. It’s a movie that loves the game almost as much as I do.

Film Review: The Great Smokey Roadblock (dir by John Leone)

Posted on January 7, 2025 by Lisa Marie Bowman

First released in 1977, The Great Smokey Roadblock tells the story of Elegant John Howard (Henry Fonda).

Elegant is not really his first name. It’s a nickname, one to let us know that, in the world of independent truckers, John Howard was one of the good guys. He never crashed his rig. He never overcharged for a job. He always arrived on time and in good shape. John Howard was a good man but then he turned 60 and he got sick. He spent months in the hospital, unable to work. His truck was repossessed. The movie starts with John sneaking out of his hospital room, stealing back his truck, and hitting the road in search of one final job. Though John says he just wants to make enough money to get his truck back, the truth is that John is terminally ill. If he’s going to die, he wants to die doing what he loves. Of course, dying while driving could lead to some trouble for anyone else who happens to be on the road at the time but still, you have to respect John’s determination. He’s a true American, independent to his core.

(My Dad occasionally made a living driving a truck so perhaps that’s why I’m partial to films like this one.)

John picks up a hitchhiker, a religious young man named Beebo Crozier (Robert Englund). John picks Beebo up because Beebo was walking through the desert in a suit. Beebo claims that he’s walking to Florida but John tells him that he can’t do that. John will drive Beebo to Florida. Of course, John also expects Beebo to pay for the gas that his truck uses because it’s not like John has any money. At first, Beebo accuses John of cheating him. (Henry Fonda cheating someone!? Perish the thought!) Soon, however, John has become Beebo’s mentor.

Everyone respects John but no one wants to hire him. The only offer that John gets is from sleazy Charlie Le Pere (Gary Sandy), who has an agenda of his own. Finally, John visits his old friend, Penelope (Eileen Brennan). Penelope is a madam whose brothel has just been closed down. John agrees to transport Penelope and her girls (including Susan Sarandon) to a new location on the East Coast. Penelope offers to help John pay the bills. Elegant John’s a pimp now! (I was about to say that this seemed like an odd turn-of-events for Henry Fonda but then I remembered that he starred in The Cheyenne Social Club with Jimmy Stewart.)

There’s not really much of a plot to The Great Smokey Roadblock. John, Beebo, Penelope, and the girls travel from one location to another. They get thrown in jail by a notoriously corrupt deputy named Harley Davidson (Dub Taylor). After they escape, they become minor celebrities. Two counterculture journalists (played by Austin Pendleton and John Byner) show up and help them broadcast their story and the film comes to a halt while Pendleton and Byner exchange what sounds like improvised dialogue. The police attempt to set up a roadblock to stop Elegant John and his Six Mystery Women. I guess that’s the Great Smokey Roadblock of the title.

It’s a weird movie, in that the humor is extremely broad and often crude but Henry Fonda is playing a man who is not only terminally ill but who actually looks like he’s terminally ill. (Henry Fonda himself was reportedly very ill during the filming of The Great Smokey Roadblock.) As such, it’s a rather melancholy comedy, one in which every joke seems like it might be the last one that Elegant John will ever hear. In the 70s, not even a trucker comedy could have a happy ending and, as such, The Great Smokey Roadblock feels like a drive-in film for the existential set. The film’s plot doesn’t really add up to much and is full of plot holes that serve as evidence of a troubled production. That said, there’s something rather charming about seeing a pre-Nightmare On Elm Street Robert Englund playing a gentle guy who ends up as Henry Fonda’s protegee. Fonda and Englund play off each other well and their scenes together are the best thing about The Great Smokey Roadblock.

Here’s The Trailer For Blackbird!

Posted on August 17, 2020 by Lisa Marie Bowman

I had totally forgotten that this film was coming out so I’m glad that this trailer dropped today and reminded me. This film has got an amazing cast and a story that, if told correctly, should generate a lot of tears.

Here’s the trailer for Blackbird, which is due to be released on September 18th.

Horror Film Review: The Hunger (dir by Tony Scott)

Posted on October 20, 2019 by Lisa Marie Bowman

“Bela Lugosi’s dead….” Peter Murphy sings at the start of 1983’s The Hunger and, in the case of this film, it’s as much of a challenge as a tribute.

Bela Lugosi and Dracula are gone, the film announces, and so is the old-fashioned vampire movie. Here’s a new look at an old favorite….

Of course, seen today, The Hunger doesn’t seem new. Since The Hunger‘s release, there’s been a countless number of films in which vampires have been decadent and chic aristocrats, hanging out in dark nightclubs and looking at the world with ennui-stricken eyes. By today’s standards, the stylish decadence of The Hunger can seem almost quaint. Much like Paul Schrader’s remake of Cat People, The Hunger is such a film of the 80s that you half-expect someone to offer you a line coke while you’re watching it. Also, like Cat People, it’s such a glorious tribute to excess that there’s no way you can’t watch it once it starts. It’s hypnotic in its excess.

In The Hunger, our vampires are Miriam Blaylock (Catherine Deneuve) and her lover, John (David Bowie). Miriam has been a vampire since at least the time of the ancient Egyptians. Rather than sinking her fangs into the necks of her victims, Miriam uses an Ankh pendant to slit their throats. John was once a cellist in 18th century France. Now, they live in an expensive New York townhouse, where they teach classical music and occasionally murder anyone that they can convince to come up to see them.

When they first met, Miriam promised John that he would have eternal life but she didn’t promise him eternal youth. Unfortunately, it takes 200 years for John to notice. When he starts to rapidly age, he seeks out aging expert Dr. Sarah Roberts (Susan Sarandon) for help. Though Dr. Roberts is originally dismissive of his claims, she is shocked to see John age several years in just an hour.

When an angry and desperate John kills the music student (Beth Ehlers) that Miriam was hoping to transform into her next lover, Miriam is forced to search elsewhere. When Sarah shows up, searching for the man who aged years in an hour, Miriam feels that her search may be over.

As one might expect from a film directed by Tony Scott, The Hunger is an extremely stylish film, to the extent that the film’s story is often secondary to the way that Scott chooses to tell it. The set design is so ornate and every scene is so precisely lit and shot and that, at times, the movie feels a bit like a commercial for vampirism. It’s easy to imagine Britney Spears singing “Work Bitch” in the background of some of the scenes. (“You want a hot body? You want a Bugatti? You Want a Maserati? You better work vamp.”) Throughout the film, New York glows like a neon wonderland while John and Miriam coolly look out over the world like 18th century French aristocrats who have no idea that they have a future date with the guillotine. At times, it’s a film that becomes almost ludicrous in its celebration of grandeur and style. One could imagine Jean Rollin telling the same story just as effectively while spending a lot less money.

And yet, it’s that very embrace of the over-the-top ludicrousness of it all that makes The Hunger a memorable film. The film’s a tribute to excess, with an ending that falters precisely because it attempts to reject precisely what it’s spent the past hour and a half celebrating. The Hunger doesn’t add up too much but its hypnotically stylish and well-acted by a cast who does their best to keep up with Tony Scott’s camera.

Lisa Reviews An Oscar Nominee: Atlantic City (dir by Louis Malle)

Posted on February 21, 2018 by Lisa Marie Bowman

(With the Oscars scheduled to be awarded on March 4th, I have decided to review at least one Oscar-nominated film a day. These films could be nominees or they could be winners. They could be from this year’s Oscars or they could be a previous year’s nominee! We’ll see how things play out. Today, I take a look at the 1981 best picture nominee, Atlantic City!)

Welcome to Atlantic City, New Jersey!

It’s a city with a storied past and an uncertain future. It’s a place where old men on street corners can tell you stories about meeting Bugsy Siegel in the lobby of an old hotel that’s just been demolished. The decrepit remains of old Atlantic City co-exists next to half-completed luxury casinos and hotels. It’s a place where business deals are celebrated in the Frank Sinatra Suite and where a woman trying to make a very important phone call might find herself being serenaded by Robert Goulet.

It’s also the home of Lou (Burt Lancaster). From the minute we first see Lou, it’s obvious that he’s a man past his time. He walks up and down the worst streets of Atlantic City, dressed in a gray suit and trench coat. With his white mustache and his coolly professional manner, he looks like he belongs in an old movie and not hanging out in his shabby apartment or drinking in the local bar. When Lou was younger, he was acquainted with all of the big names: Siegel, Luciano, Costello, Lansky. Of course, he wasn’t ever much of a mobster. He used to run numbers. If pressed, he’ll tell some interesting stories but it’s not difficult to tell that he’s lying. (At one point, it’s mentioned that Lou’s Mafia nickname was Numbnut.) Now, Lou is an old man. Much like a condemned Atlantic City hotel, he’ll soon be due for demolition. He spends most of his time taking care of Grace (Kate Reid), the widow of a mobster. When he’s not responding to Grace’s demands, he watches his neighbor, Sally (Susan Sarandon).

Sally is originally from Canada. She came to America looking for a better life and ended up working as a waitress. Under the strict tutelage of Joseph (Michel Piccoli), Sally is learning how to be a blackjack dealer. Someday, she hopes that she’ll be able to move out of her apartment and into a communal house on the beach. Until then, she works hard every day and then returns to her apartment, little realizing that she’s being watched by Lou.

And then David shows up.

David (played by Canadian character actor Robert Joy) is Sally’s estranged husband. Sally knows that David can’t be trusted but she reluctantly allows him and his pregnant girlfriend (Hollis McLaren) to stay with her for a few days. David has stolen a large amount of cocaine from the Philadelphia mob. David wants to sell it but he quickly discovers that no one in Atlantic City is willing to deal with someone who they don’t know. Fortunately, for David, he runs into Lou. Lou, looking for a chance to be a real gangster and also wanting a chance to get closer to Sally, agrees to help David sell the cocaine. Unfortunately, for David, two hit men from Philadelphia have traced him to Atlantic City and are determined to not only get their cocaine back but to also kill David as well.

It may sound like the set up for a standard crime thriller but Atlantic City is actually a thoughtful meditation on getting older, falling in love, and dealing with the fact that things change. Lou is a relic of the past, looking for one last chance to make his mark before, like the older buildings on the boardwalk, he’s demolished and forgotten about. Sally and David are the dreamers, hoping to build a future in America.

Louis Malle directs at a leisurely pace. Those looking for a hyperkinetic gangster film will be disappointed. There’s only two acts of violence in Atlantic City and Malle presents both of them in a low-key, matter-of-fact fashion. Instead, Malle focuses on exploring the lives and dreams of the film’s characters and Burt Lancaster rewards that attention with an absolutely outstanding performance as a dignified man who knows his best days are behind him but who still refuses to give in to defeat. It’s one of Lancaster’s best performances and he was rewarded with an Oscar nomination for best actor.

Atlantic City was nominated for best picture but lost to Chariots of Fire.