Author: Bob Westal (Page 254 of 265)

Writer guy Bob Westal was literally born in Hollywood and has commented on the worlds of movies, popular culture, politics, and food ever since. His interest in cocktails is more recent, but he made up for lost time with hundreds of “Drink of the Week” blog posts for Bullz-Eye. In addition to writing and editing, Bob also talks a lot.

Icons of Horror

It’s a testament to the strength of the England’s famed Hammer Studios that, while the shock/fear factor of the studio’s “graphic violence” has definitely faded over the decades, three of the four films in this package of lesser known offerings still provide plenty of old fashioned horror/thriller fun. It’s just a shame the box art is so ugly. 1960’s “The Two Faces of Dr. Jekyll” eschews Hammer’s usual decapitations and hand-removals in favor of lots of implied sexuality and heavy use of the B-word in a silly but entertaining twist on the Robert Louis Stevenson tale. Here, the nutty professor…I mean repressed, cuckolded doctor (Paul Massie) becomes a suave, better looking (and suddenly beardless) version of himself who decides to do the obvious – go out and get laid, and also do something about his no good wife (hot Dawn Addams) and her ultra-suave louse of a lover (Christopher Lee, often hilarious in one of his best roles).

The Terrence Fisher-directed “The Curse of the Mummy’s Tomb” from 1964 is exactly what it sounds like and even more amusing, despite the absence of Lee, who played the mumster the first time around. Also directed by Fisher that year, “The Gorgon” is the only a stinker of the set, a leaden blend of 19th century horror and ancient Greek mythology that even Hammer stalwarts Lee and Peter Cushing cannot save. 1961’s “Scream of Fear” might have a lousy name, but it’s a more than fitting finale. A modern day black and white thriller featuring strong performances from Susan Strasberg, Ann Todd, and Christopher Lee (who else?) as an untrustworthy French medic, it starts out as a truly creepy spin on “Gaslight,” but turns out to be a nasty, clever treat from the team of writer-producer Jimmy Sangster and director Seth Holt (“The Nanny”). Modern day gorehounds can have their torture porn, I’ll take Hammer.

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No Blood, No Tears

Director and co-writer Ryu Seung-Wan’s 2002 thriller deserves some credit for mixing things up a bit. It attempts to blend Guy Ritchie-style crime-comedy with heavy dramatic elements, the feminist ethos of the Wachowski’s “Bound” (minus the hot actress-on-actress sex), bonecrunching martial arts, and a healthy dose of the semi-mandatory sadism of Korean action films. The only things missing from the exercise are a heart and a point. “No Blood, No Tears” brings us Lee Hye-yeong as a down on her luck cab driver with a criminal past who teams up with a younger woman (Jeon Do-Yeon) trapped in an abusive relationship with her despicable gangster boyfriend (Jung Jae-Young). Their plan is steal a sack full of money during one of her boyfriend’s illegal dogfights and abscond with the loot. The dangerous job turns out to be even trickier than you might think.

Though Seung-Wan tries to goose things along with an endless parade of irritating fancy camera tricks, his film takes an unconscionably long time to get started, the comedy is never funny, while the drama and thriller elements are doomed by paper-thin, almost soap-opera characterization and an overly complicated heist-film plot. On the other hand, some of the hardcore fighting that comes late in the story is impressive, but these fights are so brutal and elongated that they comes across as not much more than nasty mayhem for its sake. Add to that an inexcusable lame non-twist twist ending, and you’ve got one heck of a fancy but kind of revolting piece of non-entertainment.

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Harold

A confession: I know only too personally the joy of early onset male pattern baldness. In my case, it crept up just slowly enough for Minoxidil to preserve a few token sprouts. Still, my “early onset” was late twenties, how much more traumatic would it have been if I’d been in my early teens? That’s the predicament facing the title character of this mostly irritating comedy from SNL gagster turned writer-director T. Sean Shannon.

Shannon doesn’t seem to know whether he wants to make a wholesome and small-scale yet over-the-top teen-comedy a la “Napoleon Dynamite” or a more realistic coming of age tale. He might have done slightly better with the latter because, despite his background, the ratio of good to bad jokes is about 1 to 15, Moreover, as Harold, young Spencer Breslin (Abigail’s big brother) is asked to almost single-handedly carry the movie. The stocky Breslin at times seems to be channeling a young Paul Giamatti in the scenes where he’s supposed to be way-prematurely crochety (apparently, he’s internalized his baldness to some degree), but then lapses into Michael Cera-style deadpan once all the old-guy “Murder She Wrote”/”Matlock” jokes we’ve been hearing for months in regards to John McCain have been exhausted. Unfortunately, neither really works — but it’s clearly not his fault. More experienced costars Ally Sheedy as Harold’s mom and Cuba Gooding, Jr. as his school’s wacky-but-helpful janitor, are equally at sea. Even cameos by such comedy sure things as Fred Willard and Chris Parnell aren’t able to do a whole lot with this unsure, and sometimes downright agonizing, material. While not completely wretched — I laughed several times and things do pick-up slightly in the last reel – in the ranks of coming of age comedies, “Harold” doesn’t really rank at all.

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Le Plaisir

This one’s for you, Criterion fans. It’s a French-language black and white extravaganza from the German-born master of subtle romance and outlandish tracking shots, Max Ophüls. Following up on the director’s previous international smash, the episodic “La Ronde,” “Le Plaisir” is an adaptation of three tales by France’s master of the short story, Guy de Maupassant, all on the theme of pleasure. Story #1 concerns the identity a strange masked dancer; Story #2 features French superstars Danielle Darrieux and Jean Gabin (“Pepe Le Moko,” “Grand Illusion”) and deals with the attractive staff of a cozy, midline brothel attending a first communion; and Story #3 features Simone Simon (1942’s “Cat People”) as a woman who takes precipitous action when her boyfriend wants to end their relationship.

His propensity for elaborate long-takes aside, Max Ophüls remains hugely respected for his work on four terrific Hollywood melodramas made in the late forties, followed by four ambitious and widely acclaimed French works completed in the following decade, including the recently restored cinephile sensation, “The Earrings of Madame de….” Still, on the level of story, “Le Plaisir,” which was cowritten with Jacques Natanson, may not be among his absolute best. The middle segment, which takes up the bulk of the running time, is a beautifully wrought low-impact comedy, but it’s almost too gentle and threatens to wear out its welcome at various points. Even so, the closing segment, about the cataclysmic resolution of an failed romance, feels like an anticlimax – until we get to the actual climax, which includes one of the most unbelievable single shots in film history, outdoing even some similar moments from Alfred Hithcock’s “Vertigo.” What that guy could have done with a Steadicam….

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The Small Back Room

Life during wartime is getting to English weapons researcher and bomb disposal expert Sammy Rice (David Farrar). He’s in constant pain from an artificial foot and his preferred method of medication, whiskey, is highly problematic. It gets worse because his struggle to avoid drinking is just one of a few thorny issues that’s giving Susan (Kathleen Byron), his very serious girlfriend, some equally serious doubts about their future. Oh, and those damned bloody Nazis have taken to leaving a new kind of tricky unexploded bomb laying around, and it’s killing local soldiers and Prof. Rice’s own colleagues.

Based on a famed wartime novel by Michael Balcon, 1951’s “The Small Back Room” is one of the less well known films from “the Archers,” the writing and directing team of Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger. Best known for ravishing and slightly insane Technicolor spectaculars like “A Matter of Life and Death,” “The Red Shoes,” and their masterpiece, “The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp,” the influential pair also had a flair for creating genuinely captivating black and white thrillers and love stories. “The Small Back Room” is a bit of both and possesses a degree of complexity and implied sexuality unusual in its time, and also today. Still, the film maybe bites off a bit more than it can chew resulting in a relatively distancing second act, and one semi-dream sequence involving a giant whiskey bottle shows how Pressburger/Powell’s admirable creative risk-taking could sometimes lead to unintended laughs. Still, there is humor, fine drama, suspense in the climactic bomb disposal sequence, and an amazing cast of some of Britain’s best local talent. This may not be the Archers at their absolute best but, trust me, that’s no insult.

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