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BLAST & CRAZY SIX: An Albert Pyun Blu-ray Double Shot From MVD Marquee
Sometimes it’s hard being an Albert Pyun fan
Albert Pyun is best known for his 1980s output, and has earned an eternal fan in me for those films. Such films as The Sword & The Sorcerer, Cyborg, and even the early 90s Nemesis (not to mention his infamous Captain America film) will always endear him to me. The fact that he’s currently still working even amidst a fairly devastating health diagnosis, and being very open and candid with his fans is also quite brave and meaningful to me on a human level. So yeah, I’m a fan of Albert Pyun, and I always will be.
That said… it can be tough to be an Albert Pyun fan. As technology has changed throughout his career, and budgets have lessened, the films have largely struggled to match the quality of his earlier output. I have virtually no interest in seeing his most recent stuff because what “low budget” looks like today is more green screen work than I can stomach. Whereas “low budget” in the 1980s still involved shooting on film with actual sets or locations, which made a lot of difference.
I’m still thrilled that a group like the fine folks at MVD have chosen to release more of Albert Pyun’s work on Blu-ray, however, and jumped at the chance to review a couple of titles of his that I frankly had never even heard of. As you’ll see, I didn’t count myself a big fan of either film. But God help me… if MVD keeps releasing Pyun films, I think I have to keep reviewing them. There’s a spark in him that I can’t ignore.
Blast (1997)
I am sad to report that I found virtually nothing of interest in 1997’s Die Hard clone Blast. Well, that’s not entirely true. I found precisely 2.5 things of interest, and I’ll focus on those positives. Blast stars Linden Ashby (who had played Johnny Cage in the Mortal Kombat movie just a couple of years prior) as an injured former martial arts Olympian who is now working a security detail in the swim complex in Atlanta where “the games” are being held this year. Of course, some bad guys are going to show up, take the building under their control, make terroristic threats, and only Ashby’s Jack Bryant will be able to stop them.
Pyun has always been a master at cranking films out on a budget, and I won’t deny him that. But the low budget is painfully obvious here. It’s as though the production secured the use of precisely one location, a drab and colorless swimming pool complex, and did their best to shoot an entire action movie within its walls.
The biggest positive and only true spark of life to Blast is the presence of Rutger Hauer. It’s extremely clear that Hauer only had a day or maybe two days on the set of the film as he’s shot mostly alone by a radio communicating his wisdom as some kind of expert on these terrorists. He gets to be the mentor to Bryant. I fully assumed he would stay behind the radio for the whole film, but when his character, Leo, finally gets in on the action… it is not disappointing and serves as the lone true highlight in an otherwise dull film. That isn’t to say that the action beat Hauer gets is “good” per se, or well executed… but it is certainly memorable. Hauer plays Leo as some kind of Willie Nelson looking guy with long braids and, apparently, an explosive wheelchair?! I’ll leave it at that.
The other element of interest in Blast is that it very specifically takes place in Atlanta, and the opening text crawl talks a little bit about the rising threat of terrorism and seeks to tap into the tragedy of the bomb explosion that occurred at the real Atlanta games (and perhaps the even earlier hostage situation at the games in Munich in 1972) to put forth somewhat of an “alternate reality”. The opening crawl indicates that this movie isn’t intended as a mere Die Hard rip off, but an actual approximation, based on “research”, of what an actual hostage situation might have looked like in Atlanta’s “games”. I find this approach fascinating, if somewhat disingenuous. There’s a degree to which the real Olympic tragedies that have occurred are slighted by this lightweight movie pretending to be something more serious than it actually is. But at least it was an angle.
The thing I find at least “.5” interesting is how clearly Pyun and his team did not clear the rights to reference or use the word “Olympics” in any way. There’s no visual queues featuring the famed interlocking circles, and characters strictly refer to “the games”. It’s occasionally humorous listening for the various ways the script has to contort to avoid using the “O” word, and would almost make for a great drinking game if the rest of the film offered anything to recommend.
Alas, Blast is anything but. It lifts its entire rhythm whole cloth from Die Hard. There’s even an “Ellis” character who slimily tries to negotiate with the terrorists and gets himself blown away. And with Hauer playing the film’s Al Powell, and even an ex-wife character standing in for Holly Genero, Blast not only pales in comparison to Die Hard, but stands as one of the most lifeless rip offs of that formula I’ve ever watched.
Crazy Six (1997)
Right off the bat, Crazy Six displays more of Albert Pyun’s heart and style than anything found in Blast. With a music video flair, Crazy Six immediately throws viewers into a stylized Eastern Europe in another vaguely alternate future where drugs have run rampant and devastated Europe after the fall of communism. There’s original music, a frankly unbelievably stacked cast, and the whole thing drips with atmosphere. I don’t know which film was shot first, but it’s almost impossible to believe that these were shot by the same guy in the same year with how much more care seems to have been given to Crazy Six.
That’s not to say that Crazy Six is good. It’s not quite that. But it’s filled top to bottom with curiosities and clearly has a heart.
Let’s talk about the cast. Rob Lowe plays the titular lead, a burnt out junkie who is wanted by rival drug kingpins and the cops. Those warring kingpins are played by Mario Van Peebles (as Dirty Mao, always holding and stroking a tiny dog and always talking about said dog) and Ice T (as Raul, who doesn’t have a tiny dog, but who still shows up and performs here). With just those three leads, you’d already have a more memorable picture than Blast. But then you throw in the man, the myth, the legend: Burt Reynolds as Dakota, a mythological American lawman complete with a cowboy hat and a duster jacket, just traipsing around Eastern Europe for no discernable reason. What on earth?! This cast is crazy stacked with performers that are instantly fun to watch and clearly were enjoying themselves here.
As the film plays out, Crazy Six falls in love with a beautiful musician (Ivana Milicevic as Anna) who herself is sober and rebuilding a relationship with her daughter in her sobriety. But Crazy Six is also dealing with the fallout of having robbed one of the drug lords to appease the other one, trying to kick his habit, and trying to steer clear of Dakota (who has a fatherly eye out for Anna). Lots of musical montages and shoot outs and drug binges occur. Six doesn’t seem to have a whole lot going for him, so I’m not quite sure what Anna sees in him. But they fall in love, and that’s the central thrust of this story.
As I mentioned, Crazy Six has heart. All of these performers are all in, even if the script and plotting are a bit of a slog. The film clearly has a “style over substance” issue and often feels like an overlong music video. But at least the original songs are catchy and emotional. Crazy Six wears its heart on its sleeve and ultimately wants to be a redemptive tale about the power of love and human connection to overcome addiction. It’s the kind of film where love triumphs over all, no matter how devastated the world around you is. I can’t be mad at a movie like that right now.
So, in the end, Crazy Six gets a mild recommendation for fans of any of those lead performers. And it even earns a recommend for folks who really love Albert Pyun the way I do. I’m ultimately glad I watched it and happy to see a personal film such as this one, with a somewhat unbelievable late-career Burt Reynolds turn, no less.
Blast, however, I can’t recommend to anyone. Just watch any of the dozens of other Die Hard clones and you’ll find something there that’s just missing here.
Though I ultimately come down not loving either of these films, I still applaud MVD Marquee for taking aim at this area of the film history catalogue and bringing this type of picture into the HD era. I can’t wait to see what titles they continue to select for this kind of loving care.
And I’m Out.
Blast and Crazy Six are now available on Blu-ray from MVD Marquee Collection
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Unboxing the JACK RYAN 4K 5-Film Collection Box Set
As Tom Clancy’s most enduring character makes his way back to TV screens in Amazon’s new Jack Ryan series, his five film adventures, released from 1990 to 2014, are arriving on UHD Blu-ray in a new 4K box set.
The set includes the original trilogy of films, The The Hunt For Red October starring Alec Baldwin and Patriot Games and Clear and Present Danger which recast the role to Harrison Ford; as well as the two one-shot reboots: The Sum of All Fears and Jack Ryan: Shadow Recruit, starring Ben Affleck and Chris Pine respectively.
The package’s slipcover features a metallic foil appearance and embossed titles.
The inner case is a black case as is typical with 4K releases. This is the largest one I’ve seen to date, housing 10 discs inside (each movie in dual formats).
As an aside, the discs are packed in seemingly random order. (After photographing them I rearranged them chronologically, as one does).
Also included are digital copies of all five movies. Each has its own code, which is always a nice contrast to a single code for multiple titles.
The Jack Ryan 4K 5-Film Collection is now available from Paramount.
Special Features
The Hunt For Red October
- Commentary by director John McTiernan
- 29-minute behind-the-scenes look at the film (Blu-ray only)
Patriot Games
- 25-minute exploration of the film (Blu-ray only)
Clear and Present Danger
- 29-minute behind-the-scenes feature (Blu-ray only)
The Sum of All Fears
- commentary by director Phil Alden Robinson and cinematographer John Lindley
- commentary by the director Phil Alden and novelist Tom Clancy.
- two-part making-of feature (Blu-ray only)
- five-part exploration of the visual effects (Blu-ray only)
Jack Ryan: Shadow Recruit
- commentary by director/actor Kenneth Branagh and producer Lorenzo di Bonaventura
- multiple featurettes exploring the Jack Ryan character and his enemies (Blu-ray only)
- deleted and extended scenes (Blu-ray only)
A/V Out.
Read our 2-Part Review of the set:
https://cinapse.co/jack-ryan-4k-collection-part-1-the-original-trilogy-6860fbd72dcahttps://cinapse.co/jack-ryan-4k-collection-part-1-the-original-trilogy-6860fbd72dca
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All package photography by the reviewer.
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Two Cents Sings the SONG OF THE SEA
Two Cents is an original column akin to a book club for films. The Cinapse team will program films and contribute our best, most insightful, or most creative thoughts on each film using a maximum of 200 words each. Guest writers and fan comments are encouraged, as are suggestions for future entries to the column. Join us as we share our two cents on films we love, films we are curious about, and films we believe merit some discussion.
The Pick
“Come away oh human child,
To the waters and the wild,
with a fairy hand in hand,
For the world’s more full of weeping than you can understand.”Animator Tomm Moore shot to international prominence in 2009 when The Secret of Kells (which he wrote the story for and co-directed with Nora Twomey) earned a surprising nomination for Best Animated Feature, placing the tiny, intimate Kells on the same stage as popular hits from Disney and Pixar (it lost to Up, which… I mean, fair).
For his follow-up (and first solo directorial credit), Moore continued to mine Ireland’s rich history of Celtic lore for both story and style. But whereas The Secret of Kells places the fairies and spirits of the Emerald Isle into a historical context of Vikings and early monks, Song of the Sea’s fair folk are stuck eking out a living alongside a modern, urban Ireland that has no patience or time for owls that serve witches, great kings frozen in stone, or selkies who have lost their voice.
That last point is of great importance to young Ben (David Rawle in the English cast, James Ó Floinn in the Irish). When Ben was just a toddler, his happy family life was destroyed one fateful night when his very pregnant mother disappeared into a storm, leaving only a tiny baby girl wrapped in a luminous coat. Six years later, Ben’s father Conor (Brendan Gleeson) is a broken man, his grandmother (Fionnula Flanagan) is determined to ‘fix’ the family, and his sister Saoirse has still yet to say a word, her silent presence a constant irritation.
But Ben’s world is turned upside down after another fateful night, when Saoirse discovers her true nature as a selkie (a sort of mermaid out of Irish folklore, selkies are shapeshifters that appear as both women and seals). As the last selkie, Saoirse rapidly comes to the attention of powerful forces of both light and dark, and it’s up to Ben to help his sister bring peace not only to the world of gods and spirits, but to their own broken little family.
Did you get a chance to watch along with us this week? Want to recommend a great (or not so great) film for the whole gang to cover? Comment below or post on our Facebook or hit us up on Twitter!
Next Week’s Pick:
It’s time for a brand new series to coincide with the opening of a new school year! Class is in session with a lineup of school and student-themed comedies from ranging 1979 to 2017. We’re kicking off with the raucous, infectiously joyful Rock n Roll High School, conceived and directed by Allan Arkush with Joe Dante, and featuring The Ramones!
8/31 — Rock n Roll High School
9/07 — Don’t Talk to Irene
9/14 — Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure
9/21 — Back to SchoolWould you like to be a guest in next week’s Two Cents column? Simply watch and send your under-200-word review to twocents(at)cinapse.co anytime before midnight on Thursday!
Our Guests
Brendan Agnew (The Norman Nerd):
The more I watch Song of the Sea, the more certain I am that it’s a bone fide masterpiece. Even distinct from the best of Pixar (who I *love*, but their function-first narrative philosophy means that you can really see the gears turning at times), there’s a whimsical and organic nature to the film’s storytelling while still being perfectly on-key.
For instance, the movie isn’t just about love and kindness, it’s specifically about empathy. Notably, about the empathy that children develop for others in order to become functional human beings, demonstrated here by Ben’s attitude towards his little sister. However, as easy as it might be to simply sell an arc on “be nice to people, especially the ones you love,” Tomm Moore and his team spend a lot of the film showing you that empathy is also a path that leads to pain. A happy, loving family is shattered in a single night, a mother is so heartbroken by her child’s suffering that she becomes a monster, and an entire world could die because living in it can be so very hard.
The film’s approach to this is less about belaboring points on soap boxes than letting the themes wash over the viewer, so that elements like the the Wizard of Oz/Peter Pan-esque “double-casting” of characters feels not just natural, but inevitable. The world is just the world, and the story moves just as surely in the smaller in-between spaces along the journey. Our heroes are every bit as likely to have a “symbolic story beat” in a roundabout or at a rusty gate as they are on a stormy cliff or a witch’s lair, adding to an authenticity that is both counter to — yet also utterly true to — the exaggerated flat art style. And because of this leg work during smaller steps, the biggest moments in Song of the Sea land like a meteor.
Because after seeing exactly how hard it is to love, and how awful it is to bottle everything up rather than feel it, a young boy sheds the armor that separated him from his family and “protected” him from the waters that caused his family’s ruin, and faces his greatest fear…for love. But for all its rightness and heroism, it’s still not a choice devoid of hurt.
And that’s why it’s the right one.
After all, you can choose not to feel for those around you, choose not to care because it might be hard and it might hurt, and you can hide behind walls and money and cold iron instead of giving a damn about anyone else. But if that’s how you choose to “live,” you may as well be made of stone. (@BLCAgnew)
You know when you were a kid and you lost yourself in those beautiful water colored picture books? The world was on the page, and the story was contained in between two covers but in your imagination everything lived on.
Song of the Sea evokes that feeling in every frame. It feels like a wonderful storybook come to life, brimming with imagination. This is how I imagined the worlds of my favorite books as a kid popping to life.
At the same time, this feels like a love letter to old Celtic tales. There is an understanding and love that comes through here that reminds me of how you understand how much Guillermo del Toro loves monsters within his films.
The best way to describe Song of the Sea? Luscious. (@hsumra)
The Team
I more or less demanded we do this movie immediately after learning that it had hit Netflix. I love The Secret of Kells, but I flat out adore Song of the Sea, as powerful a meditation on the place that myth holds in reality, that grief holds in joy, and that death holds in life as any of the masterworks from maestros like Guillermo del Toro, Hayao Miyazaki, Neil Gaiman, the list goes on and on. It’s not just that the film is heart-stoppingly beautiful (though it is) or mesmerizing to behold (though it is), and it’s not just that it’s a wonderful “magic in the backyard” adventure story (though it is), or that the film’s emotional core is so pure, so beautifully and immediately rendered, that it’s nigh impossible to get through certain scenes without crying (every time, man, Every. Time.).
No, what makes Song of the Sea so special to me, like Kubo and the Two Strings, is the way the film speaks powerfully to the way stories (and Story itself) are used to connect us, here and now, with the people who have come before and the people who will come after. Song of the Sea understands how the smallest of things (a hummed tune, a particular character out of a tale) can linger in your mind and bind you and all your past selves together into a whole. For Ben, the story of his family, its tragedies and secrets and triumphs, is the story of Ireland, all connected in a narrative that spans both millennia and entire whole worlds. It’s a transcendentally beautiful idea, and one that the film illustrates with note-perfect clarity. I love this film, that is all. (@TheTrueBrendanF)
Maybe this makes me the monster of the group, but I didn’t like The Secret of the Kells. Now it’s been awhile so I don’t really recall the reason, but despite the beautiful animation, I grew tired of its dense mythology, perhaps because I’m not familiar with the lore, and eventually stopped watching and never returned.
So it was with some trepidation and disinterest that I approached Song of the Sea, co-opting evening cartoon time with the kids (currently making our way through Gravity Falls) to watch this as a family.
The difference was immediate. Song of the Sea presents its rich lore in an approachable and straightforward fashion, providing everything the audience needs understand the tale in its opening narrative. The animation is stunning, and serves as a wonderful medium and style for the fantastical elements of the story, which work in concert with the setting of modernity to create a space where our world hides a secret one — a fairy might inhabit any shrub or stone, an island or mountain might be a sleeping giant, and you might even know a mermaid of sorts — a woman or girl who can turn to a seal when entering in the ocean.
This is ultimately a story about family, with the difficulties and heartache that that can entail. This will resonate with anyone who has lost a loved one, dealt with a cantankerous parent or grandparent, or even squabbled with a sibling. Bring a hankie. (@VforVashaw)
Next week’s pick:
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The Sobering Horror of THE DAY AFTER
The Cold War vision of nuclear devastation comes to Blu-ray from KL Studio Classics
The Day After is available now on Blu-ray from Kino Lorber Studio Classics. Note this article uses a combination of 4:3 and 16:9 screenshots; these are to give representation to both the television and theatrical versions of the film.
Made-for-television movies are making a comeback — of sorts — thanks to original programming on video platforms like Netflix and Amazon, operating outside the traditional studio model. It’s an interesting turnaround for the medium, a near-relic of entertainment history that was left behind by innovations in home video and cable television. But there was a time when only a few networks operated and TV movies were a big deal, and none was a bigger deal than 1983’s The Day After.
The bleak, apocalyptic vision of America’s Heartland suffering post-nuke is perhaps best remembered for its massive impact on culture and even reportedly on American foreign policy, causing an audience of 100 million viewers to consider the terrifying reality of nuclear devastation.
But it’s also more simply a magnificent film.
The film’s first half establishes the climate of escalating global conflict and fear as tensions mount and America finds herself on the brink of nuclear war. The film follows a handful of different narratives including a rural family whose oldest daughter is preparing for her wedding, a KU student who decides to hitchhike home to see his family, a pregnant woman about to give birth, and a small garrison of soldiers of ordered to operate and defend a missile silo.
The narrative is split evenly into pre- and post-nuke halves — had it run in two parts as intended, the falling of the bombs would’ve ended the first, and the devastation of aftermath opened the second.
While there are a few different threads showing the lives of several different characters, Jason Robards is the primary lead as a Kansas City doctor who narrowly survives the city’s decimation while working in the nearby town of Lawrence, KS. He suddenly finds himself in charge of KU’s campus hospital, running without electricity or even room to move — as patients and asylum seekers descend upon it, suffering from injuries, radiation sickness, and displacement.
I’ve come to really appreciate Robards in the last few years, catching his incredible performances in Hour of the Gun and The Ballad of Cable Hogue. He’s a magnificent actor — smart, charming, relatable, and possessing a unique voice — who doesn’t really get his due, and The Day After is another performance of the same caliber as the harried, aging physician who doesn’t even get the chance to process or mourn the assumed deaths of his wife and daughter before facing the maelstrom.
I have a personal connection with the film that influences my feelings about it but also, I hope, enhances my insight on it. The film takes place in and around Kansas City, where I live. The opening shots, establishing the location, are a montage of places I know and recognize: the sports complexes where the Royals and Chiefs play. The J.C. Nichols Memorial Fountain at The Plaza. Union Station and the Liberty Memorial. When I watch this film, it’s not just characters on the screen. It’s my family, my friends, my home.
Similarly, several nearby towns are referenced and most of the film’s back half takes place in the city of Lawrence, best known as the home of the University of Kansas which figures prominently. It’s a place I’m very familiar with, and the home of some of our closest friends. And aside from a mispronunciation of “El Dorado Springs” (a local would say “Do-ray-do”) this depiction of America’s Heartland is an authentic one, and feels recognizable even 35 years later.
It’s hard to convince someone to watch something that’s bleak or depressing. That carries the implication that the reason for doing so is that it’s “important”. And on that count, yes, it is. But moreover, this is a truly incredible film — a provocative, insightful, and moving experience. The Day After is not a celebration of the strength of the human spirit or the resilience of Americans, but a glimpse of the devastation of mutually assured destruction.
The Package
The Day After is now available on Blu-ray from Kino Lorber’s KL Studio Classics line. The physical package includes a reversible cover and 2 discs showcasing the film in dual versions:
- 122-Minute Original TV Version (1.33:1)
- 127-Minute Theatrical Version (1.78:1)
This inclusion is interesting in that not only is the “Theatrical” Cut a few minutes longer and slightly reordered, but also reframed in 1.78 widescreen. It’s more cinematic of course, but the uncropped TV version image naturally includes more of the full frame and is of superior clarity. I was surprised to see it boasts better color as well.
Left: Television Version / Right: Theatrical Version I sampled and enjoyed both versions but ultimately watched the theatrical disc, not only for the additional content but also because it included subtitles (which are omitted on the TV version).
Special Features and Extras
- “Silence in Heaven: Looking Back on The Day After” (28:06)
Lengthy interview with director Nicholas Meyer outlining the history of the project, his involvement, and the significant difficulty in bringing his vision to the screen for the television model (read: maximum ad revenue), constantly fighting executives and dealing with significant political and production pressures
- “Shelter: Remembering The Day After” (12:41)
JoBeth Williams discusses her role in the film, experiences on set, and the film’s surprising performance as a massive television hit
- Audio Commentary by Film Historian Lee Gambin and Comic Artist/Writer Tristan Jones
A/V Out.
Get it at Amazon:
If you enjoy reading Cinapse, purchasing items through our affiliate links can tip us with a small commission at no additional cost to you.Except where noted, all 16:9 screen images in this review are direct captures from the disc(s) in question with no editing applied, but may have compression or resizing inherent to file formats and Medium’s image system. All package photography was taken by the reviewer.
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Two Cents Prevails with V FOR VENDETTA
Two Cents is an original column akin to a book club for films. The Cinapse team will program films and contribute our best, most insightful, or most creative thoughts on each film using a maximum of 200 words each. Guest writers and fan comments are encouraged, as are suggestions for future entries to the column. Join us as we share our two cents on films we love, films we are curious about, and films we believe merit some discussion.
The Pick
Different filmmakers take different approaches to adapting the dense, heady, heavily-literary work of Alan Moore. Zack Snyder did his damnedest to translate as much of Watchmen as was humanly possible from comic page to live action, often frame-for-frame and word-for-word, while Stephen Norrington threw out virtually every identifiable feature of The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen besides the bare-bones premise.
Perhaps the most successful, or at least most well-liked, attempt at adapting Moore’s work came in 2006, when the Wachowskis, hot off concluding their epic Matrix trilogy, co-wrote and produced V for Vendetta, inspired by the 1988 comic by Moore and artist David Lloyd.
Directed by James McTeigue (first assistant director for the Matrix movies, later second unit director for Speed Racer), V for Vendetta follows the action and imagery of Moore and Lloyd’s work (relatively) closely, but shifts the text’s concerns from the UK’s grappling with Thatcher-ian fascism to the Aught’s post-9/11 paranoia over terrorism and government overreach.
V for Vendetta stars Natalie Portman as Evey, an ordinary young woman caught outside after curfew in the police state that is near-future Britain. Evey is rescued by a mysterious vigilante in the Guy Fawkes mask that all your irritating friends wear now. Known only as V (voiced/played by Hugo Weaving, although an unknown amount of footage is Weaving dubbing over work done by James Purefoy, who left after six weeks of filming), the vigilante soon reveals himself to be a terrorist hell-bent on raining chaos down upon the totalitarian government and avenging his own, personal grievance against certain individuals within that government. Evey finds herself drawn into V’s inner circle, struggling to survive while tensions mount as every day they draw closer to the infamous Fifth of November.
V for Vendetta drew controversy back when it was first released in 2006, with the film’s release date delayed after actual terror attacks in Britain (which eerily mirrored material in the film) left no one in the mood for a comic book portrayal of same. Today, V for Vendetta is largely remembered remembered for the iconic Guy Fawkes mask, which has so become ingrained into popular culture that many may not even remember remember the origins of the symbol in the first place.
But today, we remember remember not only a mask, but the movie that the mask came from. With so many of the political concerns depicted in the film still urgent, if not worsened tenfold, does V for Vendetta still pack near the same punch?
Did you get a chance to watch along with us this week? Want to recommend a great (or not so great) film for the whole gang to cover? Comment below or post on our Facebook or hit us up on Twitter!
Next Week’s Pick:
We move from the stark terrors of dystopia to the gentle magic of Ireland with Song of the Sea, an animated adventure from the same team that created the highly acclaimed The Secret of Kells. Like Kells, Song of the Sea was nominated for Best Animated Feature at the Academy Awards, drawing praise for its distinctive animation style and lyrical narrative. The plot follows lonely boy Ben (David Rawle) as he discovers that his mute little sister Saoirse is destined to play a major role in the future of the fairy folk of Ireland, which places her in the target zone for forces both good and bad, light and dark.
Song of the Sea is available to stream on Netflix Instant.
Would you like to be a guest in next week’s Two Cents column? Simply watch and send your under-200-word review to twocents(at)cinapse.co!
Our Guests
I have to admit to mixed feelings regarding V for Vendetta. The performances are quite good — Hugo Weaving managing to be surprisingly expressive for a man who spends the whole film in a mask, Natalie Portman working extra hard to make her interactions with said masked man work, and a who’s who of excellent British character actors in supporting roles. Also the action sequences are very exciting and are both shot and edited well. And I don’t really have a problem with the changes from the source material — at least insofar as it made sense to update the socio-political commentary from Thatcher’s England of the 80s to the post-9/11, Iraq War era. In fact some aspects of the film remain just as relevant today, given the current political climate. However, in making a more streamlined action thriller, the politics are not just updated but also simplified to the point that it is far easier to read (misread?) V as a more conventional anti-hero than he is in the graphic novel. This is compounded by the way that the Guy Fawkes mask has been co-opted through pop culture osmosis toward all manner of political/anarchic purposes. I suppose it’s unfair to blame the film for the way its iconography might be appropriated by others in the real world, but having taught the graphic novel it is striking to me how many students I’ve seen who (primarily due to the film) want to map the plot of both into a standard good guys and bad guys superhero formula when the source material (and, perhaps to a slightly lesser degree the film) often subvert that formula. So I guess what I’m saying is I like V for Vendetta fine, but I am put off by the way its themes (already simplified from the comic) have been reduced, diminished, and/or misinterpreted by so many. (@T_Lawson)
The Team
A month or two ago, I saw our esteemed founder and editor Ed Travis post about how V for Vendetta feels even more powerful in today’s day and age. It made me think hard on the film and ultimately decide to rewatch it. I’ve been coming back to it in my mind ever since.
The comparisons between this Trump administration and the totalitarian fuckos in V for Vendetta are not too difficult to see. While the current administration haven’t gone quite as far as High Chancellor and his cronies, it’s not all that hard to imagine them doing so if given the chance.
Divorcing the film from the politics that inspired it or the politics of today is difficult because it’s clearly meant as a political film; but if I were to look at it simply as a Sci-Fi action flick, it’s a great one still. The action is stellar and the concepts are unique. It makes for an enjoyable watch with its great fight scenes and wonderful explosions.
All said and done, this is a must watch for those who haven’t seen it and a must re-watch for everyone who has. Freedom forever! (@thepaintedman)
This was an odd one. On the one hand, V for Vendetta is a slick and confident piece of mainstream science fiction. The Wachowskis and McTeigue were clearly assured of their own abilities by this point, and the team (along with cinematographer Adrian Biddle, who passed away shortly after completing the film) do a nimble job of merging their aesthetic with the work of Moore and Lloyd. There are certainly moments (Evey’s torture/transformation, Inspector Finch’s (Stephen Rea) vision of past, present, and future events linked as dominoes) where V for Vendetta feels as daring, as alive, as ecstatically human as the rest of the best work that this team has put out.
But it’s all just a little too slick, a little too pat. Not to harp on the adaptation front (I read the comic years and years ago and did not much care for it) but Moore was comfortable with a degree of ambiguity that the movie steamrolls over, replacing complex political philosophies with eeeeeeeeeeeevil government baddies and daring, romantic anti-heroes whose every indiscretion and monstrous action is actually more or less morally above-board. The simplistic approach robs the story of its teeth, and probably plays a large role in why edgelords flock to this movie and that mask as a totemic representation.
I hate to sound down on the film, as I do quite like it. But V for Vendetta ultimately feels like a somewhat pat genre exercise from a collective of so much more, like a last gasp of normal air before the deep plunge into the frenetic, transcendent work that would define the Wachowski sisters’ more recent output. (@theTrueBrendanF)
I’ve always been a fan of V For Vendetta, which is probably not a surprise to anyone who has seen my Twitter handle. Hugo Weaving and Natalie Portman are dynamic in the lead roles, especially considering that our (anti)hero is always obscured behind a mask. They’re supported by equally memorable characters— Stephen Rea’s Finch as a conscientious operator within the system, grappling with the realization that he’s actually one of the bad guys. Stephen Fry’s Dietrich, an undercover homosexual who hides that part of himself simply in order to survive, and who, like V, keeps a secret collection of art and literature — contraband. And then there’s the cinematic nod to 1984, casting John Hurt in the role of the oppressive Chancellor, a huge disembodied head barking orders from a large screen.
V For Vendetta, especially in its original graphic novel form, presents politics that are at times ugly and complicated (do ends justify means?), but the main themes — freedom from tyranny and the rejection of hatred — are not. What’s startling to me, and the reason we picked the film for this week, is how much more relevant this vision of a future England has become to the contemporary US. The cult-like regime of a vaunted figurehead, deliberate misinformation, State-run media, and faux-Christianity was dystopian fiction in 2005. In the short time since, the reality in which we live has become perceptibly closer to this vision. One need not use their imagination to draw a straight line between the hate-filled bellowing of Prothero, the “Voice of London”, and the insane ranting of Alex Jones.
Paradoxically, it’s a work of subversive art, and yet also a completely mainstream entity. That alone seems like a miracle, and one I’m thankful for. (@VforVashaw)
Next week’s pick:
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LOWLIFE: The Voices Of The Voiceless, Genre-Style
An original vision, tightly woven
You’ve never heard of anyone involved in Lowlife, either before the camera or behind. And that’s part of what makes it such a staggering gut-punch of entertainment. Nothing has prepared you for what Lowlife is offering.
Sure, yes, there will be obvious comparisons to the work of Quentin Tarantino as his Pulp Fiction is probably the most obvious anchor-point to compare Lowlife to. It’s episodic in nature, complete with title cards and certain chapters overlapping and connecting to others in surprising and unexpected ways. That’s about where the comparisons end, however. And as Tarantino happens to be one of the most singular and gifted filmmakers of our time, it tends to (unintentionally?) dilute the talent of anyone you’re comparing him to when you make references like these. Honestly, the vast majority of Tarantino copycat films aren’t a hair on the ass of QT’s oeuvre. It’s just that Ryan Prows’ debut feature is so bold and stunning and confident and fearless, it does bring to mind a young Tarantino in a way that I hope will come off as complimentary of Prows, his team, and the film itself. And that’s the last I’m going to speak of Tarantino, because Lowlife deserves a spotlight all its own.
Aptly titled, Lowlife aims to rub your face in the grimy underbelly its characters dwell in… which appears to be some kind of psychotic subsection of Los Angeles ruled with an iron fist by the greasiest gangster to hit the screen in years: Teddy “Bear” Haynes (Mark Burnham). In the opening sequence of the film, we’re introduced to the characters who will hold this spiderweb together. Crystal (Nicki Micheaux) is a recovering addict and hole in the wall motel owner who might be the soul of the picture, and who is about to have the very worst day of her natural life. We meet her confronting an ICE agent who is taking some of her patrons away in the middle of the night. She’s powerless to stop what’s happening, and those patrons end up in the underground lair of Teddy, where they’re “processed” for their bodies, whether in sex slavery or for harvest. The title card blasts onto screen as Teddy is putting a bullet through a woman’s brain. Then our opening credits overlay one of the grisliest sights I can recall as Teddy harvests the poor woman’s organs beneath his dreadful dive restaurant. Masterfully, this introduction ushers us into a world of gore and grime, tension (brought about through the pulse-pounding score from Kreng), a heightened reality, and even prepares you for the pitch black sense of humor that will carry you through Lowlife.
Monsters
The Monsters chapter introduces us to El Monstruo (Ricardo Adam Zarate), a masked luchador and flunky for Teddy. El Monstruo as a character is quite illustrative of the staggering quality found within Lowlife. Through a tight script that’s penned by Prows, Tim Cairo, Jake Gibson, Shaye Ogbonna, and Maxwell Michael Towson, a whole mythology is built around Monstruo as a legendary champion of the downtrodden spoken of throughout the Mexican community in this film. Our Monstruo takes the mythology very seriously, revering his father El Monstruo, Sr. But, failing to live up to his father (who was actually a prick and the source of our Monstruo’s colossal failings as a human being), Zarate’s Monstruo is prone to rage-filled murderous blackouts, has sold his honor for Teddy, and swings wildly between thoughts of suicide and delusions of heroic grandeur. He has pulled Teddy’s adoptive daughter Kaylee out of slavery and they’re expecting a child at any time. Monstruo believes his great purpose in life is to continue the bloodline and pass along his luchador mask (which he wears at all times) to a son. He believes this at the expense of actually being anywhere close to a good husband to the thick skinned but drug addicted Kaylee (Santana Dempsey). El Monstruo is indeed a monster, aiding in Teddy’s disgusting sex ring. But he wants to be a champion, and he is crippled by his need for fatherly approval.
In this chapter things go south with Teddy and Kaylee and Monstruo get into an enormous fight. She disappears after Monstruo blacks out from rage, and Monstruo becomes obsessed with finding her and his unborn son. “The legacy is all”.
Fiends
The “fiends” chapter brings us back around to motel owner Crystal (Nicki Micheaux) and her lover Dan (King Orba). In the lowest of their addictions, they gave up a baby for adoption, and it’s haunted their lives ever since. This chapter includes some of the most touching human tragedy in the film as Crystal, now sober and invested in her grimy motel, is desperate to find a kidney donation before Dan’s fails. They’re clearly a couple in love who have been through hell together and are experiencing new doses of hell now. Unaware of the depths of Teddy’s depravity, Crystal uses the last of their funds to hire Teddy to find Dan a new kidney. It turns out their daughter is a perfect match, and she’s willing to help because it’s her birth parents. Or so Teddy says. This chapter also offers a masterclass in deepening tension as Crystal descends into the very worst day of her natural life, only to find new motivation before the day is through.
One also can’t overlook the absolutely stunning practical gore effects of Lowlife, so visually effective that they almost bring to mind the horrific and beautiful mutated gore of this year’s Annihilation. In the introduction and both the Monsters and Fiends chapters, there are instances of practical gore that are simply astounding. Sometimes wrought by our characters, sometimes inflicted on themselves, Lowlife elevates gore to such an art as to deepen the richness of its tale through the loving care with which it treats destroyed flesh and blood.
Thugs
In this chapter we’re introduced to new characters, some halfway through the runtime of the film, which will become the final key players in this puzzle box ensemble. Probably the funniest chapter in a wickedly dark film that is almost sold as a comedy in its trailer, old friends reunite when Keith (Shaye Ogbonna) picks up his best friend Randy (Jon Oswald in a breakout performance) as he’s released from prison. Keith has gone legitimate and had kids with none other than Randy’s former girlfriend Nessa while Randy was inside. “Legitimate” for Keith also means: running accounting for Teddy (even if he isn’t aware of Teddy’s shadier dealings). Meanwhile, Randy exits prison with a massive swastika tattooed on his face. Probably the sweetest and most doggedly loyal character in the entire film, one of Lowlife’s acts of genius is setting up the guy with a swastika tattooed on his face (an act of desperation to stay alive in the never ending race war in his prison) as a moral compass for the entire narrative. It sounds extremely “problematic” in these troubled times, but it’s handled with genuine nuance. Randy and Keith’s chapter is its own roller coaster ride as two best friends are reacquainted and Keith reveals his character over and over again by letting Randy know that he took up with his girl, lies about taking money from Teddy under the table, and more. Unfortunately, Keith doesn’t understand just who Teddy really is, and soon Keith and Randy are forced to go and kidnap a woman at Teddy’s behest lest Keith’s family be killed. Through this all, Randy proves himself a loyal friend to the casually selfish Keith. Randy isn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, but he knows how to survive, and he knows how to be loyal and respect the code. There’s a core decency to Randy that eludes most of the characters in Lowlife (and yes, again, this is a man with a giant swastika tattooed on his face in 2018 that I’m speaking of).
By the end of this chapter, the various fates of El Monstruo, Kaylee, Crystal, Keith, Randy, and even Teddy have converged and we find them all in a single motel room together with all types of shit about to pop off.
Criminals
The film’s final chapter is a sickeningly satisfying payoff that earns every gun shot and flesh wound, every death and redemption. Each disparate narrative from each chapter weaves together marvelously and provides character arcs for our main players that couldn’t be more fitting. It’s a staggering accomplishment of screenwriting, low budget filmmaking, and pure and simple collaborative cohesion.
Lowlife aims to tell a whale of a tale through the eyes of the unseen. This is a fantastical (nay phantasmagorical) tale, with a genre pulse, of what goes on when mainstream America averts its eyes and pretends everything is okay. Our country is a horror show and those who find themselves outside the ideal of the American dream must fight for their dignity or suffer at the hands of the opportunists which our system also allows to thrive. Lowlife grabs you by the collar and rubs your nose in the reality of our underbelly. It’s just simultaneously going to do its best to thrill, shock, and excite you along the way.
The audience for Lowlife is a limited one, what with the shocking levels of depravity and gore it both reveals and revels in. But those who take chances or enjoy some danger in their cinema will be rewarded with one of the most thrilling debut features in recent memory and one of the very best films of 2018.
And I’m Out.
Lowlife is now available on Blu-ray from Shout! Factory
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BLACK WATER: Jean-Claude Van Damme & Dolph Lundgren Are Buds On A Sub
This time… they’re not trying to kill each other
The great appeal of Black Water is right there on the cover of the Blu-ray: Teaming up stars Jean-Claude Van Damme and Dolph Lundgren for an action-packed adventure. This duo have starred in quite a few films together, with the best of these being three Universal Soldier titles in which they seem trapped in an eternal fight to the death. Those films are mostly late career highlights for these aging action heroes, but I will say that it’s nice to see them bro-ing out together in Black Water.
Here, Van Damme is the lead as special agent Wheeler. He wakes up as the film opens, quite unsure of where he is or how he got there. In a cell next door is Lundgren’s Marco, informing Wheeler of an unfortunate truth: they’re prisoners on a “black site” submarine. Escape is highly unlikely. Wheeler has hidden a flash drive that has some macguffin information on it, and corrupt U.S. operatives will stop at nothing to get it back. It’s a classic espionage set up, with the twists being the submarine angle, and Lundgren’s character being somewhat of a ticking bomb. A series of double crosses and uneasy alliances ensue, with an aspiring female soldier named Cassie (Jasmine Waltz) tentatively assisting Wheeler as he tries to escape with his life and the location of his macguffin intact.
While the characterization of Cassie is pretty solid, and JCVD and Lundgren appear to be having a lot of fun kicking ass and taking names together, Black Water struggles under the weight of its low budget. I love a good direct-to-video action film and seek them out with regularity, but their limitations are sometimes painfully obvious. For instance, as forgiving as I am of this genre and budget level, there’s a central flaw in the execution of Black Water that I really had trouble getting past: the submarine. The sets, the cinematography, the staging… none of it feels like we’re on a submarine versus a drab set on a soundstage. There are some sparing CGI shots outside to remind us occasionally that we’re on a sub… but they don’t look good at all. It’s tough because most of us have seen lots of great submarine movies, and director and cinematographer Pasha Patriki’s production design team just didn’t seem to have the ability to convince the audience that all this is taking place deep under water. And because the story necessitates virtually all of the action take place on drab sets within a submarine, it begins to lack visual flare and becomes a bit plodding. The tension and anxiety that’s used to great effect in some submarine movies never quite materializes here.
Some highlights include frequent JCVD collaborator and established character actor Patrick Kilpatrick getting to bark orders for a while, Van Damme’s own son Kris going toe-to-toe with him (guess who wins), and Dolph Lundgren’s inexplicably lively performance as the enigmatic Marco. There’s probably just enough here to please fans of Van Damme and Lundgren, but it’s not a big stand out entry in either of their later careers. Anyone well versed in DTV action may enjoy Black Water. Anyone dipping their toe into this vast sea should probably go elsewhere and check out those Universal Soldier films to get an adrenaline shot of Van Damme and Lundgren doing their thing together.
And I’m Out.
Black Water hits Blu-ray and Digital 8/21/18 from Lionsgate
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Two Cents Visits DESTINATION: PLANET NEGRO
2013’s Sci-fi Social Satire from the co-writer of BlacKkKlansman
Two Cents is an original column akin to a book club for films. The Cinapse team will program films and contribute our best, most insightful, or most creative thoughts on each film using a maximum of 200 words each. Guest writers and fan comments are encouraged, as are suggestions for future entries to the column. Join us as we share our two cents on films we love, films we are curious about, and films we believe merit some discussion.
The Pick
In only a relatively short film career, Kevin Willmott has proven to possess something that other writers and directors spend their entire careers struggling to develop: a specific voice and point of view. Ever since he arrived on the scene in 1999 with Ninth Street, an adaptation of his own play, Willmott has repeatedly demonstrated a perspective unlike anyone else in modern cinema. And, as a screenwriter, he has proven to be a key collaborator with Spike Lee, working with Spike on the screenplays for both the incendiary Chi-Raq (which we’ve covered) and this weekend’s acclaimed BlacKkKlansman.
Along with his work as a screenwriter, Willmott has also stepped behind the camera to bring his own words to life. He directed the searing mockumentary C.S.A.: The Confederate States of America (which we’ve covered) and this week’s pick: Destination: Planet Negro.
The movie begins in black and white, for it is the year 1939 and a coalition of African-American thinkers and shakers have had enough with the oppressive regime of Jim Crow and discriminatory practices across the globe. Renowned scientist Dr. Warrington Avery (Willmott) builds a rocket with the hope of colonizing Mars and establishing a new home for his oppressed people. For a crew, he takes along his daughter Beneatha (Danielle Cooper) and cocky young captain Race Johnson (Tosin Morohunfola).
But instead of jetting to the red planet, the crew find themselves in the full-color present day earth, where everything is different while still being shamefully the same. The set-up allows Willmott the freedom to mock and satirize a wide array of targets in modern society, using absurdism to highlight the all-to real horrors we pass everyday. — Brendan
Did you get a chance to watch along with us this week? Want to recommend a great (or not so great) film for the whole gang to cover? Comment below or post on our Facebook or hit us up on Twitter!
Next Week’s Pick:
In 2006, the Wachowskis-produced V For Vendatta, based on the graphic novel of the same name, arrived in theaters — a far-fetched warning about fascism and oppressive demagogues hiding behind the mask of faux-Christian propaganda and State-media misinformation, blaming Muslims and immigrants for society’s problems. Conspiracy theorists and anarchist computer hackers rallied behind the film’s symbolism and rhetoric, but in hindsight we can all thankfully breathe a sigh of relief that this is just paranoid apocalyptic fiction and sit back for a silly popcorn ride. Strength through Unity. Unity through Faith. V For Vendetta is available streaming on Amazon Prime. — Austin
Would you like to be a guest in next week’s Two Cents column? Simply watch and send your under-200-word review to twocents(at)cinapse.co!
The Team
My only previous experience with Kevin Willmott was CSA: The Confederate States of America, which we covered on a previous edition of Two Cents. While the concept of that film was better than the film itself, it carried weight and importance; it left an impact on me. Thus, I went into this campy, on-the-nose spoof expecting similarly biting commentary and hoping for even better execution.
My expectations were met and exceeded with this satirical gem. With a reverence to campy old school sci-fi and a sharp wit, the film attacks both historical oppression and modern racism. It goes hard at people of all races, challenges mindsets of both the right and left, and forces the viewer to question where they fit into the mix. The film not only works to illuminate issues of race relations, but looks at the broader stratification of gender, race, and class in modern society. It even works in clever critique of sexual politics and LGBTQ issues.
This is a must-watch satire that I’m glad I finally caught up to. Willmott is a voice I haven’t spent a ton of time with, but have a growing appreciation for.
“Man, it is complicated being a negro in the digital age, son!” (@thepaintedman)
Like Justin, I felt like C.S.A. was a better concept than a movie, and like Justin I hoped that Destination: Planet Negro would prove to work better as an overall film. It kind of does? D:PN is better as a whole than C.S.A., if only because D:PN is full movie and not a mockumentary bouncing from idea to idea. But like that earlier film, D:PN is very hit or miss, with some punches landing with exactly the right laugh/shock/fury that you need, while others land with a thud. Willmott is a strong writer (and quite a funny actor, it turns out) but I remain unconvinced about him as a filmmaker. Part of that is down to just how ugly and cheap the film looks, and not in the intentionally-campy sense. Lots of movies over the years have cheekily adopted the look and tone of a dumb old sci-fi movie, but the cheap, Camcorder-quality visuals of D:PN’s opening stretch really did start to wear on me after a point. Individual sketches on Key & Peele and SNL have better production value.
Even with these reservations, I do endorse you checking out D:PN. It’s a goofy and winking good time, absolutely, but it’s powered by real fury and a keen eye for bad behavior both on the part of individuals and on the part of society as a whole. (@theTrueBrendanF)
It’s certainly fair to say I’m a fan of Kevin Willmott’s work. Part of that stems from being local — he’s one of the most interesting current filmmakers from the Kansas City area — but mostly because he has a specific voice. Whether in his own low-budget productions (typically made with the cooperation of KU’s Film & Media Dept, where he is a professor) or major motion picture collaborations with Spike Lee, you can bet that he will have some important social commentary.
After a fun and campy first act that spoofs classic science fiction, and the initial fish-out-of-water humor of our time-traveling protagonists being propelled to the present, the film bogs down a bit toward the middle as its gets to its most overtly preachy segment, a history lesson that contextualizes how America has progressed up to the age of Obama — and how we haven’t. I had the good fortune to catch Destination Planet Negro’s local premiere in 2013, and while I enjoyed the film I found this on-the-nose commentary overreaching. But just a few years later, overt racism is out of the closet again, and I realize I’m just the student catching up to what the knowing Professor was trying to teach me. (@VforVashaw)
Next week’s pick:
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The Archivist #89: Sparring With SUPER FLY (1972) vs SUPERFLY (2018)
Who’s the fly-est of them all?
The Archivist — Welcome to the Archive. As home video formats have evolved over the years, a multitude of films have found themselves in danger of being forgotten forever due to their niche appeal. Thankfully, Warner Bros. established the Archive Collection, a Manufacture-On-Demand DVD operation devoted to thousands of idiosyncratic and ephemeral works of cinema. The Archive has expanded to include a streaming service, revivals of out-of-print DVDs, and Blu-rays. Join us as we explore this treasure trove of cinematic discovery!
This exploration of both Super Fly (1972) and Superfly (2018) will spoil both films with abandon.
Among the early and most sacred films in the Blacksploitation cannon, 1972’s Super Fly is a towering pillar in many circles. The Curtis Mayfield tracks have potentially had even more staying power than the film itself, with very few adults unaware of “Pusher Man”, or the title track. The garish styles and vehicles, played entirely straight and utilized to authentically portray a certain time and place in African-American culture in New York City, have been eternally referenced or played for laughs ever since. Perhaps most significantly, the story it told and the reality it pointed a spotlight towards, was fairly unprecedented and historically relevant. Ron O’Neal’s Priest, himself both a cocaine user and dealer, is the HERO of this story. He’s a man who feels trapped in the game and desperate to do just about anything to get out. His lifestyle is chronicled more so than judged or condemned. And in the end, Priest gets to outsmart The Man, tell him to go to hell, and walk off into the sunset free and clear. It’s as satisfying today as it must have been for audiences in the 1970s, and makes up for a lot of the film’s sloppy direction and clumsy editing by today’s standards.
2018’s Superfly is a much closer adaptation than one might expect when understanding that it’s set in modern times, and in Atlanta at that. But here Trevor Jackson’s Priest goes through many of the same motions; a man on a mission to get out of the game. Director X has dialed his narrative up to eleven, however, and created something with more flash and heightened into super hero territory. Where O’Neal’s Priest spends a little time training in martial arts in one scene, Jackson’s Priest was a star student, and practices his martial arts to battle bad guys and virtually dodge bullets. Where O’Neal must stay one step ahead of those players and corrupt cops who would seek to trap him in the game forever, Jackson has to stay two steps ahead and master the use of crypto-currency or some nonsense. Where O’Neal had to plan a double cross, Jackson must plan a quadruple, outsmarting corrupt cops, the mayor, a rival gang, AND the cartel.
This may sound like a criticism of Superfly, but in all honesty is does the narrative quite a few favors. The super heroic version of this tale mythologizes Youngblood Priest in a new era of chaos in which threats to the black community are more amorphous and multi-faceted than they used to be. Racism is alive and thriving both in more overt ways and in more insidious ones. It feels right for Priest to not only have the best skills, best outfits, and the most strict discipline [here Priest is not a user himself, and while he’s sexually active with multiple women, it’s portrayed as a mutually agreed upon polyamorous relationship as opposed to the 1972 version where Priest just had a white side-piece that felt so terribly needy you aren’t surprised when he leaves her ass for Sheila Frazer’s Georgia], but also to have a mastery over freakin’ crypto-currency. Priest’s quest to transcend the system must take on almost supernatural odds, and in doing so helps the audience feel throughout that he is going to succeed. Rather than take away the tension, our certainty that Priest will come out on top in 2018 gives it a most satisfying and fist-pumping conclusion… complete with a thrown in confederate statue being blown up and Priest beating the shit out of a uniformed cop who had murdered a black man on the job in a most brutal fashion.
Where director Gordon Parks Jr. and writer Phillip Fenty gave us grit and authenticity before sliding both middle fingers up at The Man in 1972, Director X gives us heroic fantasy and flash, offering slick visuals that become political and emotional wish fulfillment. Both films offer up a complex non-traditional hero who we’re expected to root for in spite of their chosen profession as drug kingpin, and both ultimately succeed in delivering righteous anger to the masses.
The Warner Archive’s presentation of Super Fly on Blu-ray is quite pleasing, with an appropriately grainy and natural feel to the high definition scan. Gordon Parks, Jr.’s direction of the film leaves something to be desired, with lots of extraneous shots of people getting in and out of cars or simply walking from one place to the next. There’s a lot of dead space in the original film that contributes to its somewhat languid pace and highlights that although the sum of its parts added up to a film that’s stood the test of time, at least some of the Super Fly phenomenon had to do with being in the right place at the right time, and not necessarily because of the genius of craft on display. And while Superfly ’18 is slick in its own way, similar criticisms could be leveled. There are times when the digital photography feels cheap, and there’s a chase scene that is outright ugly and sloppy. Director X and writer Alex Tse won’t be up for many awards come year’s end, but what they potentially lacked in nuance or craft, they made up for in entertainment factor. And having their fingers on the pulse of a generation who need to see their heroes coming out on top against odds that are stacked as improbably against them as they’re experiencing in their current day to day life.
Maybe I just prefer Superfly ’18 because I’m so personally frustrated by the current political and social climate (not to mention the state of race relations in America today), that the satisfaction factor was simply higher for the modern version. There’s no doubt that O’Neal’s Priest and the original film are more iconic and will stand the test of time even decades from now. It simply birthed too many imitators to ever truly become forgotten. But Director X’s woke and super heroic take on the material hit a sweet spot that I can’t shake, providing both an energetic action film and a barn burner of angry Black youth sentiment.
I highly recommend cinephiles check out both versions. With Warner Archive’s new Blu-ray being packed with bonus features and a great transfer to boot, there’s never been an easier time to be educated on this seminal Blacksploitation classic. And when Director X’s 2018 film hits home video, it really would be a great use of your time to give it a chance. It seems the studio lacked confidence in their film at a time when Black-created and Black-starring work is crossing over into the mainstream like never before, so I’m not sure quite why they didn’t have more confidence in this cathartic gem. Regardless, if you could use a little relief from the constant barrage of our broken systems grinding up and spitting out the least among us, look no further than the adventures of Youngblood Priest; he plays for keeps.
And I’m Out.
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Two Cents Does the Monster Mash with VAN HELSING
Two Cents is an original column akin to a book club for films. The Cinapse team will program films and contribute our best, most insightful, or most creative thoughts on each film using a maximum of 200 words each. Guest writers and fan comments are encouraged, as are suggestions for future entries to the column. Join us as we share our two cents on films we love, films we are curious about, and films we believe merit some discussion.
The Pick
Bless their hearts, Universal Studios is convinced that somehow their stable of classic monsters (which include: Dracula, the Wolf Man, Frankenstein’s Monster [suck it, pedants], the Creature from the Black Lagoon, etc.) is their ticket to universe-conquering, four-quadrant filling, box office domination. If they could only figure out the super-secret sauce that has allowed franchises like the Marvel Cinematic Universe or the Fast & Furious Family to succeed so wildly, they’d give themselves essentially a license to print money.
Alas, it never quite works out.
Most recently, Universal put a lot of money and time and money and energy and even more money into the so-called “Dark Universe”, which would have united all their classic creatures (including Russell Crowe as Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde as an analog for Nick Fury for…reasons) in a shared cinematic universe. The franchise was meant to be kicked off with a blockbuster update of the blockbuster update of The Mummy, this time starring Tom Cruise. The Mummy sank like a stone and took the rest of the Dark Universe with it (a shame, as casting Johnny Depp in a movie where you never have to see his face was about the best use of Depp we could imagine [besides just firing him into the sun]), leaving Universal to try and come up with some other approach.
And this isn’t the first time that Universal dumped a ton of money and time and money and energy and yes wow so much freaking money into an attempt to turn their monsters into blockbuster superstars. Back in 2004, the studio was riding high off the one-two punch of The Mummy and The Mummy Returns, rollicking action/adventure/horror films that turned a venerable, dusty Boris Karloff-fronted chiller into an Indiana Jones inspired mega-hit. Who better to revitalize the entire library of classic creatures than the man behind these unexpected smash hits? And so it was that in 2004, writer/director Stephen Sommers utilized freshly-minted movie stars Hugh X-Men Jackman and Kate Underworld Beckinsale, a bottomless budget, and the most cutting edge special effects that a post-Lord of the Rings world had to offer, and brought into this world…Van Helsing.
It…didn’t go great.
Van Helsing made money, sure, but it not as much as Universal wanted/needed in order to feel a proper return on their investment. The planned world-conquering multimedia franchise was quickly aborted, especially after audiences and critics reacted about as warmly to the film as Transylvanian villagers do to twitchy scientists with a hankering for graverobbing. Today, Van Helsing exists in the dustbin of failed franchises, alongside the likes of The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen or The Lone Ranger.
But maybe we all misjudged Van Helsing back in the day? There are still those with warm feelings towards the film, and for many it was this movie, not the classics, that introduced them to the iconography of the Universal monsters.
So adjust your comically large hats and sharpen your stakes, because Two Cents is giving Van Helsing another day in the sun. — Brendan
Next Week’s Pick
Spike Lee’s incendiary race satire BlacKkKlansman lands in theaters next week, and by all appearances it looks amazing. Like Chi-raq, BlacKkKlansman is co-written by filmmaker Kevin Willmott, who directed several socially-minded independent films before combining forces with Lee to command a bigger stage. His 2013 comedy Destination: Planet Negro, a low-budget send-up of both classic science fiction and modern social issues, follows the exploits of black scientists in 1939 who decide to escape the racism of Jim Crow USA by colonizing another planet — but like Charlton Heston, their ship gets flung into the future instead, giving them the opportunity to see how America has changed in 75 years — and how it hasn’t. — Austin
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Our Guests
Van Helsing is, conceptually speaking, an odd film. Stephen Sommers clearly has great affection for the classic Universal Monsters, and yet had no interest in making a horror film. Even the protagonist, the titular Van Helsing, isn’t THAT Van Helsing. But it’s kind of a critical cop out to leave things at “it’s not the movie I want it to be.” So let’s take it on its own terms as an action-adventure movie.
Here’s what works: The cast is fine. Hugh Jackman is an entertaining enough lead, although the “mysterious” nature of his character’s past means he doesn’t have much to work with for most of the film. Kevin J. O’Connor is far better than his makeup/costuming as Igor, and David Wenham’s Carl is basically a steampunk version of 007’s “Q.” But the real standout is Richard Roxburgh, who clearly understood the camp potential of the film and went all-out in his performance as Dracula. If everything in the film was as dialed to 11 as Roxburgh, I think I would enjoy it more. But with some cast members embracing the campiness of it and the rest playing things more or less straight the result is a wildly inconsistent tone from scene to scene.
The CGI is really, really, REALLY bad — even for 2004. The action sequences come in two varieties: cartoonish video game cut scenes and (less common) very stagey, not particularly well-shot practical sequences. The score is relentless, and certainly not one of Alan Silvestri’s best. But ultimately the problem is how just unexciting it is. The plot is very draggy — in part because of how far out of its way the film goes to shoehorn in most (but not all) of the Universal monsters. It isn’t thrilling enough to work as action, and it certainly isn’t scary enough to be horror. Again, there is a certain goofy, campy quality at times, but as relaunch (or even homage) of the Universal Monsters Van Helsing just doesn’t work. I’d rather watch The Monster Squad, The Wolfman (2010), or even The Mummy (2017) any day. (@T_Lawson)
Adrianna Gober:
In the court of critical opinion, there’s a litany of charges to be brought against Stephen Sommers’ Van Helsing: jaw-droppingly awful CGI, thinly written characters, a baffling over-reliance on exposition, to name just a few. And yet…
As it turns out, when a studio pours millions into reimagining the Dracula/Van Helsing rivalry as a high-concept, gothic Western with a heaping helping of camp, the result is something akin to the Universal Monsters equivalent of Showgirls. And I kind of love it?
I’m only being half serious, but think about it: the sad specter of a failed vision looming large, the extravagant sets and outlandish excess of it all, actors inexplicably shouting mind-numbing dialogue at each other for the duration — — it’s all there. To top it off is Richard Roxburgh’s hedonist Dracula: strutting around with his hoop earrings and Eurosleaze haircut, all confrontational sensuality and exaggerated gestures, he secures his place as the Cristal Connors of Transylvania, and I’m all about it.
By the time credits start rolling on Van Helsing, most people will be reaching for their holy water, but for pure, low-brow, camp spectacle, it gives me plenty to sink my teeth into. (@EADxBB)
Brendan Agnew (The Norman Nerd):
Some movies are bad because they were a terrible idea from the start, others because no one involved could be bothered to give a damn, and some just had ambitions that greatly exceeded the filmmaker’s grasp.
Then there are movies where the female lead is killed by being tackled onto a chaise lounge.
…Yeah, Van Helsing is something else.
Look, I’m going to go to bat for this movie. Not because it’s *good* (it is…very not), but because you can feel the love and excitement for the material and the full-speed ahead commitment to the bit. Lavish production design, a thumper of a score from Alan Silvestri, and the most iconic monsters in cinema history. Universal thought they had a franchise goldmine, so they let Stephen Sommers do basically whatever he wanted. And he then proceeded to make nearly every possible wrong decision you possibly could on a film like this — but even in the face of the litany of things this film fumbles, I realized a key piece on this revisit:
This is what happens when someone makes Big Trouble in Little China while thinking Jack Burton is actually The Hero.
Van Helsing is *super* bad at his job, and the film seems ludicrously unaware of this fact, insisting within every frame to paint Jackman’s monster hunter as Iconic Movie Badass without him ever actually earning it. He dispatches his first foe by accident, uses roughly 1000 crossbow bolts to kill a single vampire (only managing that much thanks to holy water), can’t shoot a werewolf without getting bitten, fails repeatedly to protect friends and allies, and once he gets superpowers, he accidentally kills his love interest.
(ONCE AGAIN — BY TACKLING HER ONTO A COUCH. WHAT THE FURRY HELL.)
Van Helsing falls very short indeed of being a great monster movie, but — in its current state — it could have at least been a charmingly clever goof, if only the movie (not the characters) had been in on the joke. As it is, it’s a charmingly earnest complete mess. (@BLCAgnew)
The Team
I’m on vacation, but I decided to join in anyway… so I hooked up my Roku to the TV into the downstairs TV at the beach house and pulled up Netflix. Then, I saw Hugh Jackman’s hat and started to reconsider.
My wife walked in and I said, “I think we’re gonna watch Van Helsing.” She then proceeded to sing the hilarious song about Van Helsing that Jason Segel sings in Forgetting Sarah Marshall. We then put on Event Horizon instead.
Thus, I didn’t watch it this week and my only memory of it is from when it first hit my local Blockbuster years back. I remember enjoying it then, but I’m kinda happy I didn’t watch it again now… (@thepaintedman)
“Fuck no am I watching that shite again”.
End.
Van Helsing will always hold a place in my heart for one reason: When it was coming out, and Universal somehow thought this ugly little mutant was going to be their ticket to Lord of the Rings/Harry Potter-style money, they went ALL-OUT to hype up their back-catalog of monster movies. It was due to this promotional campaign that I learned about and saw many of the classic Universal monster movies, including Bride of Frankenstein, The Wolf-Man, and Abbott & Costello Meet Frankenstein, movies that I love and revere to this day. So thank you for that, Van Helsing. But you’re still shit.
Inoffensive shit, just so we’re clear. And honestly I tend to go easy on Stephen Sommers’ particular brand of offensively expensive idiocy because he seems to be coming from a place of sincere love and affection for these characters/properties, and because, while Van Helsing is dumb (and it is so very, very dumb) it’s dumb in the manner of an energetic, sweet-hearted kid. Van Helsing is an overlong, dim-witted disaster, but compared to the sneering condescension and hateful attitudes that propagate the overlong, dim-witted disasters propagated by the likes of Michael Bay and the sub-Michael Bays of the world, Van Helsing’s manic drive to entertain you comes off almost as charming.
Almost, because, as I have said, this is a very bad movie. The special effects looked awful back in 2004 and they were dated within a day of the movie being released. Even that might have been forgivable were it not for Sommers’ heinous visual sense, which crowds every frame to the point of unintelligibility and crams so much random crap onto each monster that they are either indecipherable (Frankenstein’s monster) or just ugly to look at (the various werewolves, Igor).
I don’t like Van Helsing, but I also can’t hate it. It’s trying so hard to be your favorite movie, and it throws so much stuff at you in an attempt to make you like it, that I can’t help but be endeared to it, at least somewhat. Hopefully, somewhere down the line Universal will figure out the correct way to use their magnificent legacy of monsters, and Van Helsing can be looked back on fondly as a goofy little footnote. But until then…well…I don’t know, the Dracula-gargoyle is sorta neat, I guess. (@theTrueBrendanF)
I watched this when it first hit DVD and vaguely recall loving Kate Beckinsale and hating everything else. But I couldn’t recall any specifics about why Van Helsing didn’t connect with me, aside from the bad CG.
It’s corny to be sure, but the same could be said of Sommers’ The Mummy and its sequel, which I enjoy unreservedly. Here he arguably repeats the same formula of high-camp adventure with splashes of old fashioned monster horror, but it all lands with a dull thud.
Right from the start, things start off badly with an awful sequence involving the literary Mr. Hyde. It’s goofy-looking, nonsensical, and strangely mean-spirited — all of which are demonstrated when Van Helsing lops off Hyde’s enormous cartoon arm with his glaive, and it falls bloodlessly to the ground and shrivels back into the (also bloodless) appendage of Dr. Jekyll.
Richard Roxburgh is bonkers as Dracula both in his look and performance, which kind of hurts to say because I really like Richard Roxburgh. His presence as the villain exemplifies the movie’s biggest problem, which is that it’s all so outrageously silly. In theory this concept is a promising one (even if the Dracula fan in me bristles at the misappropriation of Van Helsing).
Jackman and Beckinsale do an admirable job of trying to make this all work, but it’s a mess. It’s harmless and fun enough that I don’t have any reason to outright dislike it, but it’s undeniably bad. (@VforVashaw)
Next week’s pick:
