Adaptation Insanity: The one that readapted Maximum Overdrive

 

Title: Trucks

What Year?: 1997

Classification: Weird Sequel

Rating: Ow, My Brain!!! (Unrated/ NR)

 

As I write this, I’m trying to scrape together a lineup for Halloween, and that brought me back to this so far barely started feature on adaptations. That, in turn, brought me to a whole lot of maybe pile material from everyone’s “favorite” author, Stephen King. (See Sleepwalkers, fungghh.) As I surveyed the material at hand, one stood out that would otherwise have gone under my even more abortive feature on TV movies. It’s one King adaptation that has stayed obscure even though it’s been readily available for a very long time, and as a bonus, it’s based on the same source material as the only film the author directed. So do we have undiscovered gold, or a buried cat spoor? Would I be writing about it if it was that simple? Here’s Trucks, a made-for-TV film that has just a little more under the hood than one might think.

Our story begins with an old jalopy that takes out its owner. We then move to a little townlet with a truck stop and a lodge for a sightseeing tour, where a man and his son, a veteran and his spunky daughter and a vaguely mysterious lady guide meet up. While the domestic awkwardness unfolds, they notice several vehicles moving around strangely, with no explanation or context beyond vague official broadcasts about chemical spills in the area. They soon find themselves under siege by trucks that have no drivers, seemingly led by a meat truck that locked its driver in the freezer. The dad becomes the leader of our little band as they plan to fight back. But soon it becomes clear that the machines don’t just want the humans dead- they want to be their masters!

Trucks was a 1997 made-for-television movie aired by the USA cable network. It was the second adaptation of Stephen King’s short story of the same name, following the 1986 theatrical  film Maximum Overdrive directed by King. The film was produced by Trimark Pictures, a company also responsible for distributing Dead Alive, with New Zealand film maker Chris Thomson as director. King and screenwriter Brian Taggert (see… Of Unknown Origin???) shared credit for the script. The cast was led by TV/ character actor Timothy Busfield as the dad Ray and Brenda Bakke as the guide Hope. Unusually, the film was rated by the MPAA, which gave it PG-13. The movie was released on VHS. It is currently available for free streaming on Tubi and Amazon Prime.

For my experiences, I watched this one as a video rental around 2005, after reading the story but before watching Maximum Overdrive. At the time, I regarded it positively, even finding favorable comparisons to the theatrical film once I had seen both. Since then, I have come back to both at irregular intervals, and what I have come to see is equal and opposite extremes. Maximum Overdrive was an exercise in big-budget 1980s excess, exacerbated by a creator with no experience and unlimited creative control. The present film, on the other hand, is a clearly competent production restrained for better or worse by sub-B production values and “mainstream” network sensibilities. In many ways, the most appropriate frame of reference is the remake of Night of the Living Dead, which can only highlight the futility of comparison. What we have is truly a case of two films with nothing in common except source material, and it’s impressive enough that both have retained some measure of relevance.

Moving forward, the most significant further comparison between Maximum Overdrive and Trucks is that the former was action/ adventure where the latter is unequivocally horror. By any appraisal, what modest merit the present film has is owed to this decision. There is no vision of a wider apocalypse here; indeed, from what we do know, the authorities of the wider world are either unaware of the unfolding situation or so far able to contain it. This allows the focus to remain even more than in the original story on characters in isolation and growing despair. What’s different is that the individual buildings are not particularly claustrophobic. Space is ample, and there are windows that give a good view of the surroundings. On the other hand, the structures are so old and dilapidated that the trucks easily smash through whenever they try, quickly removing any appearance of safety. The key ingredient, of course, is human characters we can like or at least find believable. In those terms, this comes close to trying too hard. The characters are more fleshed out then the ciphers of the story, yet the drawn-out backstories do not make them any more vivid or sympathetic than the rogues’ gallery of Maximum Overdrive. On the balance, we at least have competent actors delivering decent dialogue, greatly helped by Busfield. I have to give a particular shoutout for his performance in the final shot of the film (definitely up for the “one scene”). In a more routine film, the unsurprising reveal could have led to a freeze frame of a shrieking scream queen; from our lead, we do not see fear or even surprise, only resignation.

Then, of course, there are the machines, and this is where the most definite improvements emerge. The goofy gimmick of the goblin truck is replaced by ordinary, working machines that are vastly more frightening. One can draw some sense of personality out of the individual machines, strikingly varied in size, age and roles, though none can match the sheer malevolence of the beat-up old clunker in Duel. It’s most intriguing to see the group playing literal cat and mouse. The usual trade-off is that it quickly becomes obvious when the machines are just messing with someone they have no intention of killing, and the cop-outs avoid the kind of gore that might push the limits of television. (And this was cable, dammit…) By my long-running rant, however, the nuance of a “monster” is potentially unnerving in itself, and the payoff here is better than usual as their ultimate plan becomes clear. Then there are moments of pure brutality, egregiously the surreal attack of a toy dump truck on a mailman (yes, you read that right) and a final kill where the lead truck wipes out a building as collateral damage. We get one more inscrutable moment in the finale when the same machine tries to wipe out the protagonists for no strategic reason, as if willing to destroy out of pure spite. This is what you get when variable behavior is used for more than plot armor.

Now it’s time for the one scene, and this is where I’ll mention that I went through a whole viewing in the course of this review just to stick to my own rules. Right about the middle, I was actually waiting for the sequence that was always going to be here, and still taken a little by surprise. We see two cannon-fodder government types who have already popped in and out, on their way to a chemical spill that might otherwise be written off as a cover story. One decides to put on his hazmat suit, a piece of gear that looks for all the world like a human-shaped padded envelope, leaving his companion in the cab. As the other guy finishes some inconsequential task, a second suit starts to inflate. Sure enough, when fully inflated, the suit starts to move of its own volition. The guy in the cab doesn’t seem to notice, until he sees his colleague outside. There’s just a moment to be surprised before the animated suit strikes with an axe already on hand. We then cut to the suited goon as he returns to the rear of the truck. He looks up at the bloody apparition, and promptly asks what he is doing. Of course, he gets the axe, and there’s a certain impressiveness as the phantom dispatches him, with far more force than strictly needed yet no sign of savagery or sadism. And then the suit returns to its place. Even compared to Maximum Overdrive, it’s a bizarre and totally random moment, neither foreshadowed nor figuring in any subsequent event, which is exactly how a movie like this stays in your memory two decades later.

In closing, I come to the rating. What it really comes down to is that this is one I would simply ignore under normal circumstances, especially in a feature with my “revised” rating scale in effect. Even with the points I have laid out in its favor, this is just plain cheap. On top of that, its greatest significance in genre history is to show just how far feature-length TV movies had fallen after peaks as recent as 12:01. Yet, as I postulated at the beginning, it still manages to be just a little more than it should have been, and it is clear that I’m not the only one who remembers it. For that, I can give it my attention and just a little respect. Forward until dawn!

Fiction: Retro gaming parody novel publication announcement!

 

It's Labor Day, which means this is still technically the last weekend of a month when I've so far done only two posts and absolutely no movie reviews. I'm breaking the silence to announce that my Nintendo fan/ parody novel (see demos 1, 2,  and 3, the mythology appendix and extra) is up for sale, as linked to here.  In the meantime, I threw in some art on top of the cover I already spent too much on, resulting in the interior title page above from an artist named Carlos Miguel Garcia. My specific instructions were to make a "1980s futuristic" ship, and I will be the first to admit that really is what Eighties "kit-bashed" sci fi ships were like. Here's another piece of artwork I shelled out for. For context, the description in the book has the mother dragon monster using a chokehold. And they're both being held hostage by the empress of an evil magic-mirror dimension...

So that's what I have to show for 4 and a half months of work and definitely more money than I'm remotely likely to get back. So was it worth it? Well, it probably helped keep me sane, which is something. And while I'm at it, here's my final version of the ship design everybody kept telling me not to use.

That's all for now, more to come... I'm still not saying when.

Unidentified Found Objects revisited: Late Nineties Star Wars bootleg ships???

 

As I write this, it's time for a weekend post and still actually the weekend, and it happens that I still have a loose end from  previous post on Star Wars ships. I mentioned in the course of that post that I had recently acquired certain kind-of bootleg ships from that franchise. This will be my follow-up report, which fell under a feature that never got off the ground: Unidentified Found Objects (see the first and last posts), dedicated especially to the realm of strange and often all but untraceable "generic" and bootleg/ knockoff spaceships. This lineup in particular might be the most egregious case of all. To get into things, here's another pic of the core group in full, ah, glory...

As usual, my experiences with these begin a long time back, though still pretty late in my life. Right at the end of the 1990s, when I was just out of high school and beginning to experience public transportation, I wandered into a dollar store near the site of a long-defunct mall and saw something odd that I did not buy at the time. They were cheap pullback toys (also the genre of the Spiff ship and its Gobot-adjacent adversary), at least some of which were clearly based on Star Wars. These had been a fairly routine sight in my experience from the 1980s through the '90s, with something of an increase in the Nineties. These, however, were a bit different. For one thing, they were actually pretty good, both in faithfulness to the franchise sources and overall quality. For another, they covered a wider range than usual, with several that had been portrayed relatively infrequently, like the A-Wing seen here, and certain others that didn't appear to be Star Wars ships at all. (I will get back to that...) Finally, several of them still had very odd features, and not just the kind that would be thrown in as a defense against being sued (my area of expertise, in theory). To give a frame of reference, here's one more pic of the group.

"George Lucas's lawyers are incoming, prepare to retreat!"

And an extra A-Wing in the lot...

Inevitably, one issue that can't be avoided is where these fall in the bootleg/ knockoff/ ripoff spectrum. As I have said before, I prefer to avoid the "ripoff" designation as negative and usually useless. The vast majority of the time, "knockoff" and "ripoff" can be used interchangeably. Furthermore, for toys in particular, the issues that I would see justifying the "ripoff" label are issues that can apply in any line: Poor or entirely dangerous quality; misleading packaging and advertising; and especially prices that far exceed the overall value of the product. The last is obviously not an issue when you are down to this level. The "bootleg" label, by comparison, is not "judgmental" but still can be problematic. By the strictest definitions, it means an unauthorized and direct copy of an original product, like the infamous Turkish "Uzay" line (see the Star Wars Collector Archive page). It can broadly apply to a product that is made to resemble an authorized product, which these do come close to. Sure, the X-Wing is simply cartoonish, and the Millennium Falcon has a second cockpit and other extra junk, but it's quite obvious what they are based on and that the designers imitated them in ways far beyond general inspiration. In a crowning irony, the case for a "bootleg" is strongest for the A-Wing, specifically because the size and quality is actually competitive with authorized toys at the time. And that brings us to the crown jewel, a Rebel/ Mon Calamari cruiser.

"It's a- actually pretty good toy???"

Now this is truly a weird pinnacle of knockoff/ bootleg toys. It's an accurate representation of the ship to anything but scale-model standards (even there, I've definitely seen worse), and it's big to boot. In fact, it could very well be the largest representation of any of the Mon Cal ships I have encountered, definitely bigger and in many ways better than the 1990s Micro Machines versions which were otherwise the only game in town for secondary Star Wars capital ships. Then there are a few things only obvious on inspection that turned out in the toy's favor. Even after this much time, the friction mechanism works when tested. Also, though the sculpt and paint look like they belong on a cheap toy, a good part of it is made of diecast metal as advertised on surviving packaging. Here's a few more pics of the awesome.

Naturally, there are plenty of mysteries around this line (investigated most thoroughly if at all by Youtuber Mighty Jabba's Collection), which have contributed to the cost and difficulty of collecting. It has been confirmed that these ships were sold under the name Star Force, though only specimens in original packaging are particularly likely to be listed under that name. No reports have confirmed their first or last production, beyond the general 1990s-early 2000s range. A significant proportion of surviving specimens are from the UK and/ or Europe, which may mean they were sold in greater numbers there. The most significant datum is that they were sold both on card like the ones I encountered and in boxed sets, the latter still under the Star Force name and with the brand name Knight. These sets, in turn, give our best clue to the full extent of the line. From pictures and listings, there were additional ships based with wildly varying accuracy on Darth Vader's TIE fighter, Jabba's sail barge, the speeder bike, Cloud City (!) and Slave One. For maximum confusion, I have encountered several pictures of boxed sets that include completely prosaic military planes, which I suspect means that these were a late attempt by the manufacturer or an intermediate distributor to sell off a substantial quantity of backlogged stock in one go.

Then, of course, there is one more twist. Do these look familiar?

If you haven't placed these, I will admit that I can't remember for sure if I recognized them back then, either. If you got it or just aren't sure, these are indeed the escape craft Narcissus and the freighter Nostromo (or part of it) from Alien. The striking thing is that notwithstanding the plastic junk on the underside (Mighty Jabba theorizes these were meant to be an "action" feature...), these are probably the most screen-accurate and well-done of this whole motley group. Given that fact, these are also definitely the ones that definitely push furthest into the actual "bootleg" zone. One might wonder why anyone thought they could get away with this. One fairly obvious consideration is that this franchise's merchandise was always centered on the monster rather than the ships. Another is that Fox had already faced controversy whenever franchise merchandise that appeared aimed at kids came out, so there was tactical sense in presenting themselves as disinterested in the toy scene. The bigger picture is that the Eighties and Nineties were simply a different and mindboggling time, where any number of litigation-worthy antics were tolerated or ignored, as witnessed by any number of the films in my Space 1979 files (see Deep Space egregiously). While I'm at it, here's a few more pics.

"I don't care if you aren't technically in this movie, PUNCH IT, BISHOP!!!"

So, that ends this tour of my memories. All I can say is, if I remember something nobody else seems to know ever existed, never put the odds against me. I will also admit, even as proof of my own sanity, I'm glad I got these for as low a price as I did. That's enough to wrap things up. To better things ahead!

Robot Revolution: The one that's the worst Alien movie

 

 

Title: Alien: Resurrection

What Year?: 1997

Classification: Weird Sequel

Rating: It’s Okay! (3/4)

 

With this review, I’m continuing my survey of robot movies, and after Willy’s Wonderland, I decided to do one more movie that I have been simply looking for an opening to review. As I have regularly commented, there are many movies that are simply “above the radar” for what I do, especially when it comes to franchises. I have worked around this rule when it comes to sequels, especially of the controversial and obscure variety. Even so, there is one franchise that I have still never featured, despite discussing it regularly since my second review. (Yeah, Inseminoid, you all owe me.) That ends now, and while I’m at it, I’m going to talk about why this monster franchise is also a big part of the history of robot cinema. I present Alien: Resurrection, and yes, it is not great. But, it can be a whole lot of fun.

Our story begins in deep space, where a secret government project has resurrected both the Alien and Ellen Ripley. They are both put under the care of one of the maddest mad scientists in history, who still hasn’t considered that if you need a host for a dangerous parasitoid, a dog or a pig should work as well as a human. Enter a crew of space pirates with a crop of kidnapped workers in suspended animation, who will never discuss the ethics of this again. The aliens spawn faster than usual, while the nosiest of the pirates connects with the clone of Ripley, now a hybrid of human and xenomorph. Alas, the aliens escape, with literally no opposition from the military crew, leaving the pirates and the Ali-Ellen trapped on board with the aliens. They must fight their way to an escape craft with the help of the least trustworthy of the remaining staff. But one of the renegades is not what he/ she/ it seems, and the queen is about to give birth to a brand new abomination!

Alien: Resurrection was a 1997 science fiction/ horror film from Fox and Brandywine Pictures. It was the fourth film in the Alien franchise created by Dan O’Bannon, developed after the character of Ellen Ripley was killed at the insistence of Sigourney Weaver in Alien 3. (Yeah, still thinking about that one.) The film was directed by French director Jean-Pierre Jeunet from a script by Joss Whedon. Weaver returned as the clone of Ripley, with Winona Ryder as Call and Brad Dourif as the mad doctor. Other cast included Ron Perlman (see Island of Dr. Moreau) as the pirate Johner and Leland Orser of Saving Private Ryan (yes, I recognized him) as the infected Purvis. The film was a commercial success, earning a box office of over $161 million against a $70 million budget. Jeunet returned to filmmaking in France, notably with the romantic comedy Amelie in 2001. The Alien franchise was not revived again until Alien Vs. Predator in 2004, which Weaver had refused to appear in prior to the release of Alien 3. Alien: Resurrection remains the final film in chronological order with Alien.

For my experiences, the Alien franchise was one more thing that I only got into at a ludicrously late date, which didn’t stop me from falling in deep. In all that time, my longest-running rant has been that I simply don’t believe in “canon” as applicable to the franchise (see, if anything, my review of Contamination). A big part of this is what Fox brought on themselves by dragging Alien 3 through development Hell just to turn out the most divisive entry in the entire franchise. But it’s also what I consider to be the best use of the franchise and creature: Keep the xenomorph, the universe and a few core characters, then let each creator do what they want. This has made me tolerant. I can take Alien, Aliens, Dark Horse, AVP, and even Alien 3 all in their place. The one thing I don’t like is being told that one entry in this vast mythos has to be accepted at the expense of any other, which has really happened only once. By comparison, the present film is the closest we ever got to an “official” film that embraced my own view of the franchise, and I have no qualms saying that what works bears out my point.

Moving forward, what can really be said about this movie is everything good and bad about the franchise, dialed up exponentially. Yes, the Aliens get as much plot armor as any of the human characters. Yes, the ship design is willfully useless. Yes, the characters repeatedly make stupid decisions for the benefit of the plot. But these are egregious for the franchise, not unique, and there are plenty of good points here, particularly a character actor-heavy cast that is well above average. Perlman and Dourif in particular are in top scenery-stomping form, somehow actually matched by Weaver. The Aliens, too, reach a surreal peak. The fine cinematography brings out the calculating menace of the creatures, and there’s real pathos from the final hybrid abomination. My pick for the two best shots in the movie are the intimate closeup of two preparing to dispatch a third (why did only Dark Horse ever think of making a cage out of dead Aliens?) and the CGI effect of a pair under water, not flailing but holding their arms at their sides for a torpedo profile. At peak momentum, this feels like either a live-action Dark Horse comic or what might have been if Roger Corman had made the first movie. (Old rant, yes, Galaxy of Terror was a rip-off, but Fox did kind of rip Corman off first…)

Then there is the robot angle. While the franchise has always been known for its title creature, it has always featured creative artificial intelligence, and this film in particular, the concepts are both developed and varied. On one hand, the ship’s computer “Father” is a fitting successor to the ship computer in the first film (really already there in Dark Star). The unobtrusive details of the ship’s functions gives a picture of decentralized artificial intelligence that is in many ways is more convincing now. Then there is (spoiler) Ryder as the android, powered by the still-unexplained gooey semi-organic tech. If anything, her character and arc is the one element that was clearly intended to be more than it is, an occupational hazard with a cast and story this bonkers. Still, she does have a part to play that becomes greater as her capabilities are revealed. It’s all the more intriguing to compare her with Ash and Bishop from the previous films. The earlier bots turned in some of the most memorable moments of the franchise, but they did not fundamentally challenge the role of the robot as either antagonist or subservient helper. Here, we truly have an AI with its (?) own agenda, with all the nuances and paradoxes that implies. There’s an extra layer of retrospective fascination in small details of behavior that don’t serve what we learn of her higher purposes. My personal favorite, by all means due for honorable mention as “one scene”, is an attempt to pick things up while wearing boxing gloves, with absolutely no pressure or encouragement from anyone else. It is a truly random moment, and that is exactly what makes a character interesting, AI or not.

That leaves the “one scene”, and I’m going with the one that has fascinated me for a very long time. As the inevitable escape unfolds, we find the military complement of the research ship running away, not only without firing a shot but seemingly without their guns. The troops at least line up to board the life pods in good order, overseen by the designated military man played by Dan Hedaya, if anything one of the more subdued of the character actors on hand. We get a good look at the pods, which have iris hatches and nifty retracting ladders. We see one or two on their way before an Alien comes into the frame, apparently still at some distance from the pod currently loading. We see the last guy climb in, then cut to the exterior, to find that the CGI-rendered creature has already reached the hatch. What follows is a stylized exterior view of the carnage (wait, is this referencing O’Bannon’s “B-17” segment in Heavy Metal?), culminating in the same unlucky guy trying frantically to get out. The commander shows no emotion as he sends a grenade clattering on the deck, shown with one of several very odd Rube Goldberg action/ reaction slow-motion shots. The pod ejects, just before exploding. That’s when we cut to the commander saluting his subordinate, without looking back at what’s coming. It may sound absurd in cold blood, and it is, but it’s a striking example of what makes the film actually work.

In closing, what I come back to is how I would rank not just this film but the franchise as a whole. When it comes to the first film and its original sequel, I have always punted. They are both excellent, yet at the same time too fundamentally different for direct comparison. By further comparison, the present film and Alien 3 are each flawed in their own ways, and by any standard outside of effects and action sequences, this one is far inferior. What makes the difference to me is that I find it to be the one entry that truly lets you take it or leave it. On top of its internal insanity, it sets itself far enough ahead that the events of the preceding films become more like legends and myth than “fact”. In this context, you could just as well say that this is a comic book or video game within the Alien/ Aliens cinematic universe, and its relative merits would be no less. Per my standard rants, this was in fact an acceptable “norm” well into the modern era of franchise genre films. I still stand by it as a valid alternative to the canon overanalysis people have become used to. With that, I can say that I have finally covered one more iconic franchise. That’s enough for one day. “Punch it, Bishop!”

Robot Revolution: The one where analog Skynet has a point

 

 

Title: Colossus: The Forbin Project aka The Forbin Project

What Year?: 1970

Classification: Prototype/ Anachronistic Outlier

Rating: It’s Okay! (3/4)

 

With this review, I’m up to the 6^th installment in my survey of movie robots, which has so far been the minimum for what I count as a feature. In terms of my plans, the milestone I have come to is the first movie I had to buy for the purpose of this review. It’s one I had thought of very early, though not in the body of films that first gave me the idea for the feature. It has also offered an example of a distinct category of AI, the Evil Computer, which on consideration may owe its current form to this movie. I present Colossus: The Forbin Project, a movie where the computer takes over the world… and isn’t necessarily in the wrong.

Our story begins with our protagonist Dr. Forbin overseeing the activation of Colossus, a supercomputer that is to take charge of the Western world’s nukes, because apparently nobody else has discussed why this might be a bad idea. Things go smoothly at first, and the doctor is merely intrigued when his creation uncovers the existence of a comparable computer on the other side of the Cold War. When the military brass try to stop the AIs from communicating, however, they discover that the two machines have already connected and developed their own arrangements. They soon deliver in ultimatum: If anyone tries to shut them down, both will retaliate with nuclear annihilation. The AIs also forcibly appoint Dr. Forbin to be their emissary to humanity. It’s a cat and mouse game between man and machine, in which the Doc’s only advantage is private time with a lady friend. Can they find a weakness in the computer? Will the pretend fling become real romance in the meantime? Find out- or read the rest of this review!

Colossus: The Forbin Project was a 1970 science fiction drama  directed by Joseph Sargent, based on a 1966 novel by D.F. Jones. The scenario of the movie and novel had similarities to earlier works such as Dr. Strangelove and “Holy Quarrel” by Philip K. Dick, as well as the later films Terminator and WarGames. The film starred German TV/ character actor Eric Braeden as Dr. Forbin, reportedly chosen after Charlton Heston (see The Omega Man) and Gregory Peck were considered for the role, with Sasan Clark as the love interest Cleo. Voice actor Paul Frees provided the voice of the computer. The film received largely favorable reviews from critics inside and outside the science fiction community. It was further nominated for a Hugo award for Dramatic Presentation. Jones published two sequels to his original novel after the release of the film. Sargent went on to direct films such as The Taking of Pelham 1 2 3. A remake was reported in development between 2007 and 2011, but failed to leave preproduction.

For my experiences, this was a film I heard about at an early age and watched at a still early date. It’s stood in my mind first and foremost as an example of the degree to which the 1960s and ‘70s dominated my formative pop culture experience. Even sight unseen, it was fascinating for its shear audacity, in the best tradition of ‘70s sci fi like Dark Star and Phase IV. The downside was that getting to the film itself was inevitably anticlimactic. By my best recollections, I found it competent but unremarkable apart from the fact that (I said spoiler warnings expire at 50 years in the Kronos review) the computer wins. The end result was that I felt no interest in coming back to it until I started working on this feature. As alluded, it was necessary to buy it to give it a viewing, and I found it if anything better than I remembered, but also even odder.

Moving forward, I must go into my analysis mode at the outset. Given the actual logistics of nuclear weapons and the Cold War in general, the problem posed by the story has two quite straightforward solutions. The first, to the film’s credit discussed and partly attempted, is to replace the fissile material and other key components in most or all nuclear weapons with “dummy” components. The logical backup plan is to stop the supply of new weapons and materials, either by passive resistance or by active sabotage of facilities that would not appear to be under analog Skynet’s control, then wait decades at most until the existing nuclear weapons hit their expiration dates. The emerging irony is that the scenario actually makes more sense with this factored in. Given the machines’ declared intent of ending war, their threats are potentially a variation of the “Architects of Fear” solution (see The Abyss and, dear Logos, Superman IV). Whether or not that is allowed as a motive, it certainly reinforces the obvious point: The best way to prevent your nukes from being misused by your own people or those outside your control is not to have them around.

When it comes to the movie itself, the overall feel remains one of competence in service of a necessarily self-limiting presence. The production values and posited tech are in line with Dr. Strangelove or a semi-realistic Bond movie. By extension, it does “look” like a 1960s movie in the 1970s, which in a real sense is exactly what it is. What gets it in my egregious Anachronistic Outlier category is the narrative style, which in many ways harken further back. The story and sharp camerawork keep intensely focused on the posited problem, with enough resulting tension and momentum to override the logical objections already outlined. The arguable “cons” come in the limited characterization and definitely uncomfortable sexual subtexts. Our protagonist is at least more vulnerable and complex than the square-jawed, nearly robotic problem-solvers of the 1950s. Then whether the film will fly with a viewer in a modern and enlightened era will depend very much on what one makes of his lady friend. By the harshest appraisal, we have an egregious case of an intelligent and initially professional female who is still reduced to a source of stress relief for the male. As with the better romances of the 1950s, however, there is enough nuance within the awkwardness to offer real insight on both the characters and the nature of gender roles. Their initial encounter under the computer’s scrutiny is especially intriguing. On one level, the pair are so hilariously unsensual that it’s hard to doubt that the AI already knows it’s a sham. On another, there are deeper hints that the computer knows better than they do that this is the best path either of them can take to what they really want.

That leaves the “one scene”, and I already gave honorable mention to my first choice. For an alternative, I did a search that brought me to one that sets it all up. After a failed attempt to disarm the AI, our protagonist fixes himself a martini. The computer questions him through text on a screen, and he responds quite amiably by explaining the process. Amusingly, the computer specifically objects that there is “too much” alcohol, without saying if its concern is based on health, sobriety or simple taste. We see a bull’s eye on the glass as the AI’s camera inspects the final product. The doctor sits down, and raises the question of privacy. One by one, his requests are refused at face value, until he raises female (or perhaps male…) companionship. That finally gets a further question of his needs, to which he answers, “Every night.” That immediately draws the reply, “Not want require.” It’s jaw-dropping in its connotations and implications, not least that the computer is already figuring out things it should have no frame of reference for. These are the little things that may not “help” address the sensibilities of a later era, yet still show that a film this old can still be part of the conversation.

In closing, this is one time when I find myself wondering if I was too hard in assigning the rating. On the whole, if I had reviewed this when I was doing Space 1979, exactly when I started looking at a number of films under consideration here, I would probably have given it 5 out of 5. The whole point of my “adjusted” scale, however, was to deal with very different standards of quality and professionalism. In those terms, the rating I have given is very much in line with the film’s self-evident strengths and limitations. It was not “great” then or now, and time has not done any favors, but what it did well is what continues to make it interesting and genuinely entertaining. As I said with The Andromeda Strain, it’s all the more impressive that this was made a full decade before home video exponentially increased access to older media. By the usual refrain, this is a case where “good enough” was plenty. For me personally, I can say I am glad I came back to it.

Robot Revolution: The one where Kristin Stewart kills an alien with a piano

 

 

Title: Zathura aka Zathura: A Space Adventure

What Year?: 2005

Classification: Mashup/ Weird Sequel/ Anachronistic Outlier

Rating: That’s Good! (4/4)

 

With this review, I’m continuing my series/ feature on robots. An issue that has already come up is that while robots have figured regularly in science fiction films for about as long as the genre has existed, they have often been relegated to subordinate status, typically as servants/ minions to their good or evil creators. For the most part, I have used this to narrow down the field to the comparatively manageable number of films that make robots and other AI (which I have been planning to get to) truly central to the plot. For my fourth installment, however, I decided it was time to deal with an example of the “secondary” tradition, and that brought up a movie I have been looking for a chance to cover for a while. I present Zathura, a movie where the killer robot is the least strange thing about the film.

Our story begins with an introduction to a single dad and his two elementary-age sons, who habitually bicker while their teenage (step? half???) sister hovers at the periphery. When the father leaves on an urgent errand, the two kids try playing a Gernsback sci fi-themed game that’s really more like a mechanical toy. They discover that this is more than a board game, however, as perils like meteor showers and a malfunctioning robot become reality. The continuing misadventures leave the whole house adrift in space, threatened by a marauding reptilian race. Their best chance of returning home is a mysterious friendly astronaut who has played long enough to know the rules of the game- but the wrong choice may trap them in the game forever!

Zathura was a 2005 science fantasy film directed by Jon Favreau, based on the book of the same name by Chris Van Alsburg. The film was regarded as a thematic sequel to the 1995 film Jumanji, also based on a book by Van Alsburg. Favreau stated that the film was influenced by 1970s and 1980s films including Battle Beyond The Stars. The film starred Josh Hutcherson and Jonah Bobo as the brothers, with Dax Shepard of Idiocracy as the Astronaut and Tim Robbins as their father. Kristin Stewart appeared as the sister, and Frank Oz (see Dark Crystal, An American Werewolf In London) received credit as the voice of the Robot. Suits and practical effects for robot and aliens were created by Stan Winston Studios (see Invaders From Mars, Congo, etc, etc, etc.), as part of a blend of animatronic, miniature and CGI effects used for the film and often for the same sequences and characters. The film was a commercial disappointment despite favorable reviews, earning a $65 million box office roughly equal  to its budget. Its reputation has improved as both a “cult” SF/ fantasy film and family movie. The film is available for streaming on multiple platforms.

For my experiences, I really came to this film after seeing it mentioned by a reviewer I follow intermittently, as an example of a film I didn’t know was “supposed” to be a failure. That brings in certain further complaints that I have had with the likes of The Black Hole, The Blob and The Thing (see my video on the last): Yes, films that earn their budgets back can still lose a lot of money, but I have never cared for calling a movie a “bomb”, flop, etc. on that basis alone. With the present film, I can remember favorable reviews and a prompt viewing when it came out on home video. I was immediately impressed with it as a solid and creative genre film with the potential to turn into a “classic”, and from actual viewer feedback, I would say confidently that it has lived up to its potential. That, in itself, is exactly how films end up above my radar. For this feature, I finally felt I had a reason to comment on an excellent film.

Moving forward, all the obvious arguments, counter-arguments and counter-offensive arguments come down to the simple question of realistic expectations. Yes, there are things that can be off-putting for the adult viewer, especially the interminable bickering. But this is supposed to be a kids’ movie, and it can justify itself as portraying what kids deal with in real life through what becomes both a theme and a major element of the plot. The central science fictional elements are similarly framed as science fantasy in the vein of Starcrash and Flash Gordon, with a sounder suspension of disbelief than usual. It’s worth further note, with respect to my Anachronistic Outlier category, that this is all done with a fully modern visual vocabulary. To me, the one thing worth further argument is Stewart. On many levels, her character is one thing the film would have been as good or better without. I do feel that a major reason for the easily felt redundancy is that there is no confirmation of her exact relationship with the other family members. She does contribute as the actual “voice of reason”, and her completely justified reactions mitigate the question of whether the events on-screen are in any way “real”. Any further doubts are acquitted when she finally takes on an antagonist one on one, which (as alluded in the title) I am absolutely counting as an unambiguous combat kill.

Inevitably, I have to devote a section to the robot. I will point out, first, the technical facts: This is not a “practical” rig, as I recall a contemporary reviewer assuming, but a hybrid of a Winston suit with CGI effects that was itself an astonishing innovation. As for its on-screen appearance, there’s really just one sequence of the bot in action, which would have been the “one scene” by my usual format. It’s all set up with a fake-out scare involving a toy, which on consideration is perhaps the most clever hint that the movie’s “reality” is ambiguous. (I will get to that in a moment…) When the bot does appear, it is entirely and menacingly physical.  The ensuing mayhem quickly establish it as the most formidable of the movie’s antagonists. In the process, there are also established limitations. It’s fast, though not necessarily faster than the humans. On the other hand, it is seemingly clumsy, which might be in part because it is still figuring out which parts of the house it can simply tear through. The most disconcerting reveal comes when we see it repairing itself, establishing an ongoing threat that will be handled with another clever twist. When we get a look at its clockwork guts, it is ludicrously primitive, more like Tik Tok of Oz than a Golden Age bot. But then there is the bird-like self-repair appendage, which at certain points acts like a sentient entity all its own. There’s no direct answers to this and other questions; what works is that we don’t need them to enjoy the story.

Now for the “one scene”, I was as often happens most intrigued by an otherwise innocuous scene. Right around the first-act transition, the younger brother decides to cook some macaroni and cheese. The older brother says that there will be no running water while they are literally in space. Undeterred, the younger brother turns on the tap, and water comes out, filling the pan. When he goes to the stove, the elder brother reminds them that there “should” be no gas for the burners, either. (For that matter, the power should be long gone as well.) It’s no real surprise when the burner merrily turns on. It is a brief and minor moment, yet on analysis, it is the most mindboggling moment in a story that is already running on the willful suspension of disbelief. The simple and convenient explanation is that everything we are seeing is a product of the boys’ imaginations. The quite disconcerting alternative is that whatever rules and logic still apply in this assumed universe are a matter of what the kids would know and believe. It’s a hypothesis that could have been tested, if the older brother tried the same things himself, but the story is already moving on.

In closing, what I find myself coming back to is what makes a movie a “failure” in its own or any other time. As I have previously ranted, my own formula for actual disaster is whether a movie with a budget of at least seven figures can get half of it back, and dear Logos, I have covered enough that didn’t to prove that box office results are no measure of merit. There are ones now considered classics, like Return To Oz, though I have covered many more that didn’t actually do “that” badly. (Hell, Krull pulled through at about 60%.) There are ones that at least reached the level of “cult” fandom, like Deep Rising, and others that remain divisive even in those circles, like Memoirs Of An Invisible Man. Then there are the ones so mediocre and unmemorable that they don’t even live up to their own notoriety, like Adventures of Pluto Nash. What movies like Zathura prove is that there can be justice in the long and short term. In its own time, it did well enough just by earning as much as it cost. As it approaches 20 years from its release, it has endured the tests of time, above all as a film critics, fans and audiences still talk about.  It did what it set out to do, and by my regular refrain, that’s more than enough. Onward and upward…

Featured Creature Special: The one where the werewolves have guns

 

 

Title: The Howling

What Year?: 1981

Classification: Runnerup/ Parody/ Anachronistic Outlier

Rating: What The Hell??? (2/4)

 

As I write this, I have been taking longer than usual to decide on a film to review. What’s different is that I have actually gone a good stretch without watching a movie at all. That brought my decision down to whatever I finally watched, and as often happens, I already had a rental that I was not looking forward to. So with that glowing endorsement, I’m wading into a movie that I had watched exactly once and still remembered being disappointed by. I present The Howling, the movie that deconstructed the werewolf ahead of An American Werewolf In London, and boy, did they not do it better.

Our story begins with a reporter named Karen who goes out on an obviously hare-brained attempt to catch a serial killer that ends in a last-minute rescue that leaves the killer bullet-riddled in the morgue. After the traumatizing experience, a psychiatrist sends Karen and her husband out to the Colony, a counterculture settlement where people go to reconnect with nature. But all is not well, as the inhabitants mutter of dark secrets and a resident maneater. Meanwhile, the body of the killer has disappeared, leading the reporter’s colleagues to suspect that he might not be as dead as the authorities believe. In fact, the killer and the inhabitants of the Colony are all werewolves, living a conflicted existence under the doctor’s direction. It’s up to the reporter and her work friend to get out alive- but her husband is already one of the lycanthropes!

The Howling was a 1981 horror film directed by Joe Dante (see InnerSpace, Gremlins 2), based on the first of a series of novels by Gary Bradner. It was the first of three werewolf films released in 1981, preceding Wolfen and An American Werewolf In London. No serious allegation emerged that any of the films had copied each other. The film starred Dee Wallace as Karen and Patrick Macnee as the psychiatrist Dr. Waggner, with Robert Picardo (see Dead Heat) as the killer Eddie Quist. Other cast included John Carradine (Shock Waves), Dick Miller (Terminator, Night of the Creeps), and Elisabeth Brooks (Deep Space???) as Marsha. Creature effects were created by Rob Bottin, after Rick Baker (see King Kong 1976) left the project for American Werewolf. Additional stop-motion effects were created by David Allen (see Dungeonmaster, Robot Jox, etc, etc, etc), all of which were cut or replaced except for a shot of a group of werewolves at the end of the film. The film was a commercial success, earning $17.9 million against a $1.5M budget. It received 7 official sequels, none of which appear to have followed Bradner’s additional books. The movie is available for streaming on AMC Plus.

For my experiences, this is a film I watched on VHS in college, probably before American Werewolf. What has remained most interesting is that the two films represent an already undisputed case of what I call a “runnerup”, as well as a much rarer case where two such parallel productions were roughly equal in their impact and stature (compare to AntZ and A Bug’s Life). To me, what has been most intriguing in a sad way is that the two films are in every important respect opposites to each other. One was a highly polished medium-budget film from a “mainstream” director. The other was openly a low-budget genre film by a newcomer who never outgrew his roots. Unfortunately, this is an especially clear-cut case where the establishment unquestionably produced far better results.

Moving forward, the most significant and counterintuitive comparison to be made between this film and American Werewolf is that the latter was a “horror comedy” but not a horror parody. The present film is in itself proof of the difference. It aims to be knowing and subversive in its genre references and inside jokes, the best by far being a lead villain who hands a gun back to the nosy guy reporter. The “problem” is that there is not a lot here that is funny on its own terms. The most effective satirical elements come, tellingly, not from the gags but from the domestic dysfunctionality of the werewolves. They are set up as leftovers from another time (which could have worked far better if we knew something about their aging if any) trying to adapt to modernity. Left to their own devices, they present an unsettlingly mundane picture of a cult: Banal, petty, bickering and often simply bored. It’s an intriguing angle greatly improved by strong acting and dialogue, but on a certain level, it never goes anywhere. In the final confrontation, it’s quite clear all the arguments among the pack are merely a half-hearted delay before the inevitable. The real surprise is that the lone dissenter doesn’t get lunched by his own side.

Meanwhile, my personal beef has always been with the effects, and that only got worse when I looked into the history of the production. At best, the creatures are outdated off the drawing board, adding to an already strong vibe of a 1970s movie that happened to come out in the Eighties. At worst, they are inert and distractingly odd. (And dear Logos, what were they thinking with those ears???) Before the inevitable objections, this was only a year before the same guy made The Thing, and two years after Alien. They could definitely do better. What’s worse is that the more rudimentary makeup effects are far more menacing, especially as seen on Picardo (whom I did not recognize despite noting his presence on many other occasions). His full transformation is the biggest washout, to the point that his intended victim easily deals with him while he is still standing there. A further indictment comes from the tryst between Marsha and the newly turned husband, which for all its awkwardness manages to achieve the stylized surrealism the film clearly intended to give. My true rage moment came when I found unused stop-motion by Allen in a bonus feature. The final insult came as I discovered that what I remembered as the only shot where the wolves looked good was in fact the only remnant of his work on the film.

Now for the “one scene”, I decided it was long past time to feature the late Dick Miller, the greatest cameo artist in history. He appears around the mid-point as proprietor of an occult bookstore. The clip I found starts with him talking to the secondary reporters about the patrons of his store, allegedly including a certain real-life cultist. When the lady reporter asks about grave robbery, he matter-of-factly gives them a book. Of course, the conversation turns to werewolves, and a case of silver bullets whose origin should count as a plot hole yet actually works. In the process, he lays out the werewolves’ strengths and weaknesses. For me, what makes the scene is when the guy reporter comes out and asks if he actually believes anything he has been saying. His reply is better heard than described. Suffice to say, it’s as good a deconstruction of the genre and underlying mythology as anything in the film.

In closing, what I decided was worth coming back to is what makes a parody. Obviously, that has become far more pertinent in a landscape where revisionism, deconstruction and “meta” humor have become a genre in themselves. As I have shown regularly, we were already in the same cycle long, long ago. The one lesson worth learning is that a “good” genre satire has to be something more, and the best explanation of what works is to look at the examples that already succeed.  If you had never seen a Star Trek episode, Galaxy Quest would still be funny. If you cut all the jokes out of Shaun of the Dead, it would still be a good zombie movie. By comparison, The Howling is and always was going to be the “runnerup” to American Werewolf. I can get why people like this one and might even find it more entertaining than its competitor, or I would probably give it a lower rating than I have. It still remains a film that struggles to be decent, let alone “great”. And with that, I can finish for another day.

The 1970s File: The one with Charlton Heston

 

 

Title: The Omega Man

What Year?: 1971

Classification: Irreproducible Oddity/ Anachronistic Outlier

Rating: It’s Okay! (3/3)

 

Having just finished my No-Good Very Bad Movies 1980s lineup, there’s really only one place to go from here, which is to cover the 1970s. Surprisingly, I really haven’t done a lot of ‘70s stuff for this feature, if only because I already dredged much of the worst of the decade in my other features, especially Space 1979. (Heck, I reviewed Cross Of Iron here, which is actually one of the best ‘70s movies I’ve covered.) Even more surprisingly, the one that convinced me to do this now is one that I hadn’t really thought about until it came up in my rental queue. I present no less than one of the most famous and/ or notorious movies of the decade, one which people would probably expect me to love or hate. Here is The Omega Man, and I’ll say right off the bat that I still don’t know what to make of it.

Our story begins with our protagonist Neville cruising the streets of a seemingly deserted city. He hurries to get back home after dark, however, where he is met by a group of strange assailants wearing Medieval-looking robes. It turns out that he is the lone uninfected survivor of a plague that has left most of the human population either dead or turned into light-sensitive mutants. He has set himself up in a second- or third-floor apartment that we will see is really more vulnerable than a ground-level dwelling would be, where he searches for a cure to the plague when not fighting with the mutants. The other side of the feud is a charismatic leader named Matthias, who has established a sort of Luddite cult dedicated to removing the vestiges of the former civilization. In the midst of their inconclusive battles, Neville discovers another survivor, a spunky non-white lady. Inevitably, romance blooms, and she introduces him to a colony who have sensibly relocated to the countryside. But the plague is still claiming their lives and those of the mutants. It’s up to Neville to save the remnants of humanity, but will the mutants allow themselves to be cured?

The Omega Man was a 1971 post-apocalyptic science film by producer Walter Seltzer and screenwriters John and Joyce Corrington. It was the second adaptation of the novel I Am Legend by Richard Matheson (see Duel), following the 1964 film The Last Man On Earth and preceding the 2007 film of the same name, and in most respects the loosest treatment of the source material. The film was directed by Boris Sagal, a Ukrainian-born filmmaker best known for television including the Twilight Zone episode “The Silence”. The late Charlton Heston starred as the protagonist Neville, the same name as the protagonist in the novel, with Rosalind Cash as the love interest Lisa and character actor Anthony Zerbe as Matthias. The music was composed by Ron Grainer, whose work included the Dr. Who theme. The finished film was distributed by Warner Bros. It was a likely commercial success, with a box office estimated as at least $4 million. While it received mixed reviews from contemporary and later critics, it has remained popular and readily available a cult film. Seltzer went on to produce Soylent Green, also starring Heston, before retiring in 1976. Sagal died in 1981 in an on-set accident. Cash died of cancer in 1995, at age 56. Zerbe turned 86 in May 2022.

For my experiences, this is another case of a movie I grew up aware of (I have to mention the Simpsons parody) without seeing it or being interested in doing so. What stands out all the more is that I can’t recall ever making the connection to I Am Legend on my own, and I definitely had read the book at an early date. As with many of these things, I only got to it relatively recently, more or less out of curiosity. That encounter just left me vaguely baffled, not only by how they got this from the book but all the more by how it had stayed seemingly popular and certainly relevant for so long. That was where things stood until I reviewed The Last Man On Earth, and after that, I had to come back to it.

Moving forward, this movie is truly an egregious case of an Anachronistic Outlier, more specifically the peculiar variety that feels like an egregious example of a period that it’s really barely in at all. In this case, there are so many ludicrous 1970s cliches that it’s tempting to cut the Gordian Knot and allow that the cliches came from here, which is certainly plausible given the movie’s influence. This includes plenty of things that are by all means good when considered on their own merits, including a visual style that genuinely bridges the ‘60s and ‘70s, a generally groovy vibe from the supporting characters and a solid, understated performance from Heston. Unfortunately, the action sequences are among the things that don’t hold up so well. To me, they feel frenetic without being surreal and garish without being shocking. The upshot is that there was at least one extended period when I simply tuned out the film. (It's all the more disappointing considered the uncharacteristic savagery of "The Silence".) Then what’s absolutely wrong to the point of distraction is the music, on a level far beyond the cheap, synthesizer-heavy soundtracks of lesser and generally somewhat later films. It’s mostly a competent, vaguely introspective sort of smooth jazz that would have fit certain scenes, especially between Neville and Lisa, repeated at the most random and entirely inappropriate moments. What’s baffling and unacceptable is that this is very obviously the work of an accomplished composer who had in fact done good work in the sci fi genre before. (Oh, yeah, Grainer died in 1981.) Maybe he was struggling through the transition period the film was made in, but the difference between a love scene and a shootout is not something that changed over time.

Beyond these problems, what we are offered is oddly inoffensive, even factoring in that it should never have been rated anything but R. As hard as it may be to accept the liberties with the source material, it is very soundly established that Neville is in the right. He’s looking for a cure for a disease that’s killing the survivors and at least some of the mutants. Even more strikingly, he rarely if ever kills any of the mutants when they aren’t actively trying to kill him. It’s the mutants’ side that starts to feel like a letdown. Matthias and his followers aren’t drinking blood, eating people or really doing anything violent or disturbing outside of the Wile E. Coyote schemes to kill Neville. (Extra points are in order for using an actual siege engine…) It’s their quasi-religious fanaticism, not any unambiguous effect of the disease, that makes them dangerous. Even on that front, when viewed from a modern standpoint, they are no more sinister or incomprehensible than an unusually crazed band of anti-vaxxers. (I was happy how long I had gone without writing about that subject, until I did the magnetic vaccine post.) On still further consideration, the only reason there’s a conflict at all is that Neville won’t simply lie low as the other survivors have. With all those parameters in mind, the (pretty much literally) tortured metaphors of the finale are simply one more thing that comes out of nowhere and doesn’t really go anywhere either.

That leaves the “one scene”, and I’m going with the opening. It all starts with Neville driving through the city as the credits roll. At first, it could be a perfectly normal scene, if not for the music, which sets an appropriately somber if not quite ominous mood. Around the 30-second mark, however, we start to see bodies and debris, still fairly subdued. (All is in accord with the “tidy apocalypse” conceit I have commented on with Night of the Comet and The Quiet Earth.) What really stands out is that this is as often as not shown in distance shots where the hero is increasingly dwarfed by the empty cityscape. It’s a bold move to make when handling a star remembered as an iconic large ham. Bolder still is the evident assumption that they had cleared the field of routine traffic and pedestrians, which wouldn’t seem like a big deal if you haven’t seen it go hilariously wrong in the likes of Zombie. It’s a promising opening that really does show off the best points of what’s to come, and as such, everything a good credit roll can be.

In closing, what I’m left with is not so much explaining the rating as how it reconciles with all the very deserved heat I’ve laid down. What it really comes down to is that this is another case of a movie that didn’t belong here apart from its notoriety. Sure, you can call it a “bad” movie both in its own right and as an embodiment of its era, but just try to beat me for bragging rights on bad 1970s movies. I’ve reviewed Laser Blast, Planet Of Dinosaurs, War Of The Planets, Prey and ZPG, and there are still 1970s movies I’ve seen that I consider too bad to review. After all that, this is a movie I just can’t trash, and it will be very obvious that I tried. It may be weird, it may be dated, it may have a lot of things that don’t make the slightest bit of sense, but we’re talking about the goddam Seventies here. Sometimes, you have to look at the positive for the sake of your sanity. The bottom line here is that if this movie hadn’t gotten made, we might not have Star Wars, Alien or Dawn Of The Dead either. That alone is enough for a pass from me, and with that, I can rest.