Mostly forgettable Italian crime obscurity written by Fernando Di Leo and featuring Tomas Milian is of little interest to anyone but Eurocult die-hards. Raro USA's packaging makes it look like a Milian polizia, but he's really just got a supporting role as a dogged inspector after a trio of rich kids on a crime spree. He's tipped off by Lea (INFERNO's Eleonora Giorgi) that her boyfriend Louie (Max Delys), and his pals Paul (Stefano Patrizi) and Joe (Benjamin Lev) are planning to rob a gas station with toy guns. Louie is the reluctant driver and isn't aware that Paul and Joe are packing real heat and don't plan on stopping with the gas station. Why? Spoiled boredom and bad parenting, according to Milian, who spends his time lecturing their parents and telling them "Communication is the key to understanding." You don't normally watch Italian crime films expecting Afterschool Special messages. Was Di Leo going soft here? These shitbags don't need a hug. They need Milian smashing their heads through pinball machines Maurizio Merli-style.
1976 Italian poster
Di Leo and director Romolo Guerrieri (THE FINAL EXECUTIONER) choose to focus on the three hoods--none of whom are very interesting characters or actors (Joe is incredibly annoying, made even more insufferable by Lev's nonstop mugging)--while making the mistake of relegating a commanding presence like Milian to the sideline. YOUNG, VIOLENT, DANGEROUS (original Italian title: LIBERI ARMATI PERICOLOSI) has a couple of good chase sequences and is never dull, but it's definitely not top-tier Italo crime. Guerrieri, a competent journeyman director, just doesn't have the sense of style or energy that an Enzo G. Castellari (Guerrieri's nephew), an Umberto Lenzi or Di Leo himself would bring to these kinds of films. Raro's DVD has been remastered and looks surprisingly good considering the 1.85:1 image is presented non-anamorphic. Non-anamorphic. In 2012. Really, Raro USA? Includes Italian and English audio tracks (the latter featuring the usual dubbing voices like Ted Rusoff, Michael Forest, Pat Starke, and others). There's also an interview segment with Guerrieri, shot in 2004, a Guerrieri bio and filmography, plus a PDF critical essay to view on your PC in place of the booklet Raro used to put in the packaging. PDF, non-anamorphic...Raro USA's been up and running for a year, but after a roaring start, has recently had two glitch-laden releases (THE SECRET OF DORIAN GRAY and TO BE TWENTY) and now they're already cutting corners elsewhere. All things considered, the YOUNG, VIOLENT, DANGEROUS DVD presentation has some issues, but it's an acceptable package for hardcore Eurocult genre addicts and completists. (Unrated, 97 mins)
THE GIRL IN ROOM 2A (Italy - 1974)
Molasses-paced Eurosleaze from grindhouse god Dick Randall, an American expat who had a long career producing trashy, bad-movie classics in Hong Kong, Italy, Spain, and the UK. Anyone familiar with gems such as CHALLENGE OF THE TIGER, FRANKENSTEIN'S CASTLE OF FREAKS, DON'T OPEN TILL CHRISTMAS, SLAUGHTER HIGH, the infamous Weng Weng vehicle FOR Y'UR HEIGHT ONLY, and the immortal PIECES, arguably the greatest bad movie ever made, already has a handle on Randall. The Italian-made kinda-sorta-giallo THE GIRL IN ROOM 2A, written and directed by American William Rose, takes forever to get going with its story of an unjustly-jailed young woman (Daniela Giordano), paroled to a halfway house run by a group of mysterious weirdos who take it upon themselves to punish "bad" girls--who always get assigned to Room 2A--as some sort of moral Inquisition of their own. They even have a red-cloaked/hooded torturer, who looks like a villain out of a 1940s Republic Pictures serial. Giordano sees all sorts of strange goings-on and teams up with John Scanlon, whose sister was a previous tenant of Room 2A, to investigate.
1975 US theatrical poster
Rose, who only made '60s underground NYC nudie flicks up to this point (with titles like THE SMUT PEDDLER, PROFESSOR LUST and 50,000 B.C. (BEFORE CLOTHING)), has no sense of pacing whatsoever and is hopelessly out of his element making a--and I use the term loosely--"legit" film. The film is a total snooze enlivened only by intermittent nudity or splatter, filled with ludicrously inappropriate music that does nothing to establish a suspenseful mood. What's supposed to be a scary sequence is ruined by what sounds periously close to circus music. Randall must've stepped in to save the day, because after 75 minutes of coma-inducing torpor, THE GIRL IN ROOM 2A erupts into all-out hilarity during the ridiculous climax, filled with cheap gore, terrible music, awful fight choreography, and just the general nonsense that one normally associates with Dick Randall productions, as Giordano is about to be sacrificed while Scanlon and his sister's ex-boyfriend (longtime Randall pal and ex-peplum star Brad Harris) attempt to rescue her. The last ten or so minutes are so stupidly entertaining and laugh-out-loud funny that it makes the first 75 totally worth the endurance. Also with Eurocult regulars Rosalba Neri, Karen Schubert, Frank Latimore and Angelo Infanti, plus, as the main villain, a curiously slumming Raf Vallone, who was getting a lot of work in Hollywood movies and on American TV at the time. Mondo Macabro, a company that seems to be exclusively releasing Randall product these days, presents THE GIRL IN ROOM 2A in an occasionally beat-up but generally nice-looking transfer that the packaging lists as 1.66:1, but is actually 1.78:1. Extras include a short interview with Giordano, where she dispels the longstanding rumor that William Rose was a pseudonym for Ramiro Oliveros, a Spanish actor who often gets credited in print and online with directing this film, plus some cast/crew info, and a lurid trailer for the film's 1975 US release ("Kidnapped! Enslaved! She became a sexual plaything in a strange, sadistic ritual!"). (Unrated, 85 mins).
Directed by Oren Moverman. Written by James Ellroy and Oren Moverman. Cast: Woody Harrelson, Robin Wright, Steve Buscemi, Sigourney Weaver, Ben Foster, Ice Cube, Ned Beatty, Anne Heche, Cynthia Nixon, Brie Larson, Audra McDonald, Jon Bernthal, Jon Foster, Francis Capra, Robert Wisdom. (R, 108 mins)
Oren Moverman's follow-up to his acclaimed 2009 film THE MESSENGER unfortunately falls into the "sophomore slump" category, despite a raw, riveting performance from Woody Harrelson. The problem with RAMPART is that Harrelson's performance is all it has, and as great as it is, it can't carry the whole film, which plays like you're fast-forwarding through a season of THE SHIELD. Dealing with the corrupt escapades of a bitter, racist, sexist, homophobic, misanthropic, hard-drinking, chain-smoking, womanizing, control-freak (did I miss anything?) LAPD cop in post-Rampart Scandal 1999, RAMPART begs the question: Why this story? Why now? Why? Don't look for answers. There are none, and aside from Harrelson's searing portrayal, RAMPART is an almost total misfire.
Badass cop "Date Rape" Dave Brown (Harrelson), so nicknamed for a 1997 incident when he committed the premeditated murder of a known serial date-rapist (yet Internal Affairs doesn't have enough to charge him) is every bad image you can conjure of the LAPD (see above). A bit of a celebrity with other cops, Dave's personal life is strange, to say the least. His two ex-wives (Anne Heche, Cynthia Nixon) are sisters who live next door to each other, and Dave lives in a bungalow in one of the backyards. Each ex has a daughter by him, so the half-sisters are also first cousins. When he can't get some casual sex from either ex, he picks women up at bars. Still hounded by the date-rapist incident on a daily basis, Dave finds himself in a media shitstorm when he's videotaped beating a black man who plowed into his squad car and tried to run away. Faced with mounting pressure from the department, the D.A.'s office, and his own lawyers, cash-strapped Dave gets a tip and tries to bust up an illegal card game and take the loot for himself, but he ends up killing a man and planting a gun on him. Then things really start to go bad.
Harrelson is one of the best actors working today and rarely gets to show it, and RAMPART is up there with THE PEOPLE VS. LARRY FLYNT and THE MESSENGER as possibly his finest work yet. But the film is a rambling, unfocused, episodic mess. I know it's all about the character, and there's some semblance of a story with the caught-on-camera beating, the planting of the gun, and his dysfunctional hook-up with a boozy attorney (Robin Wright), but RAMPART feels less like a cohesive film and more like blatant Woody Harrelson Oscar bait (the film, a prestige acquisition by Cannon cover band Millennium Films, was released briefly in NYC and L.A. in November 2011 to qualify for awards season, and only started expanding in limited release last month). Harrelson is supported a truly impressive cast of big names and familiar character actors in cameos that prove to be more of a distraction than anything. There's no opening credits, so the actors just appear, let Harrelson bounce off of them, then, in most cases, disappear. Wright, Heche, and Nixon probably get the most screen time of the supporting cast, and there's also Sigourney Weaver as an LAPD attorney; Steve Buscemi as the ambitious D.A.; Ned Beatty as a retired cop with a mysterious agenda who keeps telling Dave that "forces are conspiring" against him (perhaps the most frustrating of RAMPART's several abandoned storylines, though we are granted the rare sight of Ned Beatty smoking a joint); Ice Cube as an Internal Affairs investigator; Ben Foster as a brain-damaged homeless guy; and THE WALKING DEAD's Jon Bernthal as a cop. Brie Larson does some nice work as Harrelson's gay, angry teenage daughter with Nixon.
Moverman co-wrote the script with legendary crime and noir novelist James Ellroy, and a lot of the dialogue crackles with Ellroy's distinct, gloriously offensive prose. But the story is just flimsy, slapdash, and ultimately pointless. However, between the disjointed storytelling, the abandoned plot points, the underwritten characters not named Dave Brown, and several stills online from scenes that aren't in the actual film, there's enough evidence to suggest that RAMPART was chainsawed in post-production and this is possibly a compromise version. Still, Moverman resorts to some bizarre showboating directorial techniques to cover up that central void, whether it's an attention-seeking continuous pan around a desk during a meeting at the D.A.'s office, or some of the most distracting foot fetishizing this side of a Quentin Tarantino movie, or, in the film's worst sequence, a drug-fueled detour into a garish, strobe-lit sex club that seems like Moverman called in sick and asked Gaspar Noe to direct for a day. Woody Harrelson has matured into a great actor and this is an undeniably great performance. But that performance needs some kind of foundation to give it structure and meaning, and as brilliant as Harrelson is, he isn't enough to keep RAMPART from looking like exactly what it is, at least in its released version: a blatantly transparent attempt to get Woody Harrelson an Academy Award.
Directed by Chris Kentis & Laura Lau. Written by Laura Lau. Cast: Elizabeth Olsen, Adam Trese, Eric Sheffer Stevens, Julia Taylor Ross. (R, 85 mins)
Husband & wife directing team Chris Kentis and Laura Lau are no stranger to gimmicky thrills and chills: Kentis directed and Lau photographed the 2004 actors-in-the-water-with-real-sharks indie hit OPEN WATER. Both have been off the radar until resurfacing with this remake of Gustavo Hernandez's 2010 Uruguayan thriller LA CASA MUDA. CASA's gimmick, replicated by SILENT HOUSE, is that it's allegedly shot in real time, in one continuous take. I haven't seen the Hernandez film so I can't judge, but I'm not buying that claim with Kentis & Lau's film. Oh, it's a solidly-constructed illusion of a continuous take, but there's plenty of dark shots and other pieces of set decor that can easily obscure a seamless edit. Plus, if you stick around for the closing credits, the long list of "Additional photography" credits sorta blow the "one continuous take" claim to hell. There's a few instances where it's used effectively, but the illusion doesn't really add much to the film, which wouldn't have been very different if the cuts were visibly apparent.
The simple set-up has early 20-ish Sarah (Elizabeth Olsen) cleaning out a dilapidated, mold-infested family vacation home with her dad John (Adam Trese), and her uncle Peter (Eric Sheffer Stevens). Located far off the beaten path, the house has become a haven for squatters, so Peter resorted to having the windows boarded up from the inside, which doesn't allow for any light to get into the house. This becomes an issue when Peter runs to town for supplies, John goes upstairs and disappears, and Sarah starts hearing thuds, bangs, heavy footsteps, and finally finds herself practically face-to-face with an intruder who's hiding in the house.
(Possible SPOILERS from here on)
That sounds like a can't-miss deal, but--and again, I'm only judging the remake, but I'm aware of some changes from the Uruguayan original--Kentis & Lau find ways. Obviously, because it's a modern horror film, we know there will be a big plot twist by the end. Kentis & Lau bungle this by telegraphing the twists and turns entirely too early in the story. Before the mayhem starts, Sarah is visited by Sophia (Julia Taylor Ross), who's happy to see her since, she claims, they were playmates as kids. Sarah initially doesn't remember her, but after Sophia mentions stopping by later with some pictures of them playing dress-up, Sarah starts to have a vague recollection. There's another early bit where Uncle Peter stops to regard Sarah in a way that lingers longer than seems normal, and he finally says "I can't believe how grown-up you are." And both John and Peter encounter scattered Polaroids that make them nervously skittish as they stash them down their pants. Now sure, some of us see more movies than others, but without even seeing LA CASA MUDA and deliberately avoiding spoilers, I figured the whole thing out 20 minutes in, and anyone paying any attention to this at all can see where it's going even if you haven't seen the relatively recent HIGH TENSION or, to cite another cribbed source, Roman Polanski's REPULSION, a film that unravelled in a much similar fashion and still seems fresher than this despite being 47 years old and minus the central gimmick. I'm curious to see Hernandez's original film, just to see if it showed its cards that early or if Kentis & Lau, who I'm guessing are terrible poker players, dumbed it down for American audiences.
That's not to say it's a total washout. The scene with Sarah using the flash of an instant camera as a light source is a high point, and belongs in a better movie. Olsen is very good and maintains a believable near-hysteria throughout without ever going overboard. The younger sister of Mary-Kate & Ashley Olsen, she was pegged a star-in-the-making after last year's indie breakthrough MARTHA MARCY MAY MARLENE, and she does a solid job here. But there's only so much she can do with a script that simply gives away too much too soon, hoping that the "Real Fear...in Real Time!" conceit will carry it through to the end. It doesn't. Olsen's clearly going on to bigger and better things, and one day, SILENT HOUSE will likely be little more than the forgettable B-horror flick that so many accomplished actors have near or at the bottom of the IMDb pages.
Directed by Paul Johansson. Written by John Aglialoro and Brian Patrick O'Toole. Cast: Taylor Schilling, Grant Bowler, Matthew Marsden, Michael Lerner, Jon Polito, Graham Beckel, Patrick Fischler, Jsu Garcia, Paul Johansson, Michael O'Keefe, Armin Shimerman, Neill Barry, Edi Gathegi, Annabelle Gurwitch, Christina Pickles. (PG-13, 97 mins)
How much you get out of this adaptation of 1/3 of Ayn Rand's mammoth 1957 novel obviously depends on how much you buy into Rand's ideas. But political and philosophical differences aside, ATLAS SHRUGGED: PART ONE is anti-entertainment of the highest degree: a pompous, boring, lecturing textbook barely come to life. This is a film that glorifies the moral right to an unregulated, laissez faire free market while condeming government intrusion, taxation, unions, altruism, and finally, the common worker--metal magnate Hank Reardon (Grant Bowler) barely tolerates what he calls "the miserable children trying to stay alive desperately and very badly." And he's the hero!
I'm sure observing a theatrical showing of this in the presence of harumphing one-percenters might've made for an interesting sociological study because what's onscreen isn't interesting at all. Unlike Rand's novel, the film is set in the future of 2016, where gasoline is $37.50/gallon and oil shortages have made rail travel the most affordable mode of transport. Railroad heiress Dagny Taggart (Taylor Schilling) allies herself with Reardon to create a new rail line using Reardon's newly-patented metal, which he claims can last 100 years without needing repair. This kind of durability scares the politicians and the palm-greasers in Washington, who set out to abolish Reardon's metal and forbid him from having a monopoly on the industry. Meanwhile, CEOs and captains of industry are disappearing at an alarming rate after meeting a trenchcoated figure named John Galt (played by director Paul Johansson).
Grant Bowler and Taylor Schilling in a thrilling action scene from ATLAS SHRUGGED: PART ONE
Long considered unfilmable--a theory concretely proven by Johansson--ATLAS SHRUGGED was attempted to be made into a film as far back as 1972 when THE GODFATHER producer Albert S. Ruddy tried to get it off the ground. In the ensuing years and decades, numerous different producers and studios tried to get the ball rolling on an ATLAS SHRUGGED film adaptation or TV miniseries. In recent years, A-listers like Brad Pitt, Angelina Jolie, Charlize Theron, Julia Roberts, and Anne Hathaway were said to be attached to the project at various points, but by the time it got made, and faster than you can cue the PRICE IS RIGHT losing horn, we ended up with Taylor Schilling, Grant Bowler, and Paul Johansson. Given the book's embracing by the Tea Party and Libertarian crowds in recent years, it's no surprise that top-tier "Hollywood liberals" wouldn't want to be seen anywhere near it, which explains why you end up with a cast that would've fit right in with LEFT BEHIND or THE OMEGA CODE or one of Christian auteur Alex Kendrick's recent grassroots hits like FIREPROOF or COURAGEOUS. Like those films, ATLAS SHRUGGED: PART ONE is preaching hard to the already-converted, so things like script and acting don't really matter. The performances are daytime soap-level at best, and the writing suffocatingly heavy-handed. Everything is a proselytizing proclamation that's just throwing red meat to the audience. Films like this don't have to try, because they don't have to be good. That's why you can get paycheck character actors like Armin "Quark from STAR TREK: DEEP SPACE NINE" Shimerman, Jsu "I used to be known as Nick Corri when I was in A NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET" Garcia, and Michael "Nobody gives a shit about Danny Noonan's storyline in CADDYSHACK" O'Keefe onboard. It is disheartening to see Coen Bros. vets Jon Polito and Michael Lerner (a Supporting Actor Oscar nominee for BARTON FINK) schlepping their way through this, but I guess you go where the work is.
Michael Lerner in his Oscar-nominated role in 1991's BARTON FINK, just one of many films you could watch instead of ATLAS SHRUGGED: PART ONE
The best thing that can be said about ATLAS SHRUGGED: PART ONE is that it looks nice with its plethora of sleek, cold office interiors in various buildings. Otherwise, it's a total snooze, with endless babbling about metals and alloys and blah blah blah. It's not even a personal political stance that keeps me from accepting ATLAS SHRUGGED on its own terms. I've enjoyed plenty of films with differing political, personal, or philosophical views than my own. I don't agree with a lot (well, any) of the concepts this film endorses, but I agree even less with bad filmmaking, bad writing, and bad acting. Can you at least make the damn thing the slightest bit entertaining?
PART ONE, budgeted at $20 million, took in less than $5 million at the box office, which seemed to effectively kill any chances for the second and third installments being made. But producers claim PART TWO is underway and they hope to have it out in late 2012. Just in time to qualify for the Oscars, I'm sure.
Written and directed by Michael Cimino. Cast: Clint Eastwood, Jeff Bridges, George Kennedy, Geoffrey Lewis, Catherine Bach, Bill McKinney, Gary Busey, Vic Tayback, Burton Gilliam, Dub Taylor, Gregory Walcott, Roy Jenson. (R, 115 mins)
Even before film critics and historians finally took him seriously after 1992's UNFORGIVEN, Clint Eastwood consistently took chances to show his versatility with offbeat departures and was always more than Dirty Harry and The Man with No Name. Films like THE BEGUILED, PLAY MISTY FOR ME (both 1971), and BREEZY (1973), the latter directed by but not starring Eastwood, were atypical projects and the same can be said for 1974's character-driven road/buddy movie THUNDERBOLT AND LIGHTFOOT. The film was a fairly big hit at the time (grossing $25 million, which is around $150 million in 2012 dollars), even though Eastwood reportedly wasn't happy with United Artists' handling of it, nor with the fact that co-star Jeff Bridges got all the attention as well as a Best Supporting Actor Oscar nomination (he lost to THE GODFATHER PART II's Robert De Niro). This was probably one of the earliest instances that led to Eastwood's tendency to control and backseat-drive the films he wasn't actually credited with directing. He fired Philip Kaufman a few days into shooting THE OUTLAW JOSEY WALES and took over directing it himself (leading to the DGA's "Eastwood Rule," which essentially forbids a producer, cast, or crew member of a movie from stepping in for a fired director), then notably clashed with mentor Don Siegel on 1979's ESCAPE FROM ALCATRAZ, and relieved director Richard Tuggle of his duties early into shooting 1984's TIGHTROPE, taking over directing but reportedly keeping Tuggle on the set in order to appease the DGA (and does anyone really believe Buddy Van Horn was calling the shots on any of those 1980s Eastwood movies he's credited with directing?). Eastwood's director on THUNDERBOLT AND LIGHTFOOT was a debuting Michael Cimino, who co-wrote the 1973 DIRTY HARRY sequel MAGNUM FORCE. Cimino went on to become the toast of Hollywood with 1978's THE DEER HUNTER before almost immediately morphing into an industry pariah with 1980's HEAVEN'S GATE. Eastwood would get annoyed if Cimino wanted more than three takes, but he seemed to generally stay out of the first-time director's way. With the exception of 1993's IN THE LINE OF FIRE, directed by Wolfgang Petersen and the only time in the last 40 years that Eastwood was just an actor-for-hire in a film he didn't produce, THUNDERBOLT AND LIGHTFOOT is likely one of the last times he extended that courtesy to someone directing him.
Eastwood is Thunderbolt, a career thief and fugitive who's found by some vengeful cohorts who think he made off with the loot of a previous heist, when in fact, the place where he stashed the money was demolished, and Thunderbolt was never able to recover the money. While fleeing, he's picked up by amiable drifter Lightfoot (Bridges), who's in a Trans-Am that he just stole from used-car dealership. The two become fast friends, and when two of Thunderbolt's associates--hot-tempered Red Leary (George Kennedy) and dumb Eddie Goody (Geoffrey Lewis)--catch up with them, it's Lightfoot who hatches the plan that they all rob the same place again.
Eastwood and Bridges make a great team, and Cimino's script has a good amount of humor, especially when Kennedy and Lewis turn up later on. It's not just Bridges who makes a huge impression--a low-key Eastwood manages to be upstaged by all three of his co-stars (Kennedy is hilarious when he tells an obnoxious brat "Look, kid...go fuck a duck"). The tone gets much more serious after the heist, leading to a downbeat, heartbreaking finale that would likely be changed if it were made today. The film benefits from a lot of eccentric touches and recognizable character actors, like Bill McKinney as a crazy driver with a raccoon in the front seat and a trunk filled with rabbits, Dub Taylor as a cranky gas station attendant, and the sight of Kennedy and Lewis squeezed into a tiny ice cream truck. I also like the way Thunderbolt and Lightfoot steal the car of a vacationing older couple and spend the rest of the film wearing the man's loud, garish old-guy shirts.
When THUNDERBOLT AND LIGHTFOOT was released, critics praised Cimino's work as a writer and director and Cimino has often said that he wouldn't have a career without Eastwood's help. TV airings throughout the 1980s continued to find the film new fans, but it's rarely mentioned today with Eastwood's best work. It's in semi-regular rotation on MGM HD, but it doesn't turn up as part of any Eastwood marathons on TCM or AMC. It was issued on DVD years ago, but is now inexplicably out of print and going for exorbitant amounts online. I'd love to see this given the deluxe Criterion treatment--it's certainly worthy, both as an essential classic of the 1970s and proof that even then, Eastwood was a better actor than dismissive critics of the 1970s were crediting him. And there was no doubt that a young Jeff Bridges, who already had THE LAST PICTURE SHOW, BAD COMPANY, and THE ICEMAN COMETH under his belt, was going on to great things. Cimino never really did recover from the HEAVEN'S GATE debacle, and was fired from both FOOTLOOSE and THE POPE OF GREENWICH VILLAGE before finally returning with 1985's flawed-but-intermittently-great YEAR OF THE DRAGON. Cimino, now 73, hasn't directed a feature film since 1996's barely-released SUNCHASER. THUNDERBOLT AND LIGHTFOOT and THE DEER HUNTER both stand as brilliant intros to a potentially great career derailed by hype, hubris, self-indulgence, and bad press, though HEAVEN'S GATE's reputation has somewhat improved in the ensuing 32 years since it bankrupted United Artists. There's really not much point in defending 1987's dreadful THE SICILIAN or his absurd 1990 remake of the Bogart classic DESPERATE HOURS, and I haven't seen SUNCHASER. Cimino's place in film history is cemented, but primarily for the wrong reasons. His flops and fiascos may outnumber his successes, but it's hard to argue with successes like THUNDERBOLT AND LIGHTFOOT and THE DEER HUNTER. Perhaps it's time to reconsider Michael Cimino. Or at least give him a shot at making another film.
SEEN BY NOBODY would be a more accurate title for this rambling, tedious, post-CRASH "everyone is connected" collage focusing on--what else?--the self-absorbed ennui of a seemingly disconnected bunch of loathsome L.A. asswipes. A missing little girl provides the catalyst for this dreary ensemble: an adulterous shrink (Dane Cook); his lawyer wife (Elizabeth Mitchell), who desperately wants a baby and is hoarding baby clothes and toys; her cop friend (Julie Benz) who's investigating the girl's disappearance; the girl's neighbor (Greg Germann), who's the prime suspect; a teacher and Everquest addict (Mark Kelly) growing obsessed with the case; a cop (Erik Palladino) who hangs out at funerals; a recovering alcoholic (Miranda Bailey) trying to take care of her paralyzed brother (Vincent Ventresca) while prepping for a marathon; an aspiring rocker (Aja Volkman) who's sleeping with Cook; an African-American TV show writer and a Cook patient (Kali Hawk), with OCD and an intense dislike for black people; a sound engineer (Zach Gilford) who meets Hawk after taking in a lost dog; and Cook's mother (Barbara Hershey), who keeps hanging on to the idea that the husband who walked out on her a decade earlier is somehow coming back.
In the end, the film, directed and co-written by Matthew Leutwyler (DEAD & BREAKFAST), who's not likely to be mistaken for Robert Altman (or even Paul Haggis, for that matter) anytime soon, ultimately does live up to its title. It's just a ponderous, pointless acting school exercise that has no real destination and leaves behind a ton of loose plot strands even with a running time exceeding two hours. Seriously, only like, two of these stories come together. The rest...it's just L.A., ya know? And such trite dialogue! At one point, Dane Cook is actually required to say "Intimate love...I seem to have emotionally forgotten what that means." And Kelly gives a big speech near the end about how we're all here to just help each other...because sometimes that's all we need! And are we really supposed to buy Hawk's out-of-nowhere transformation at the end, where we see her buying cappuccino for two African-American parking lot security guys and she smiles in smug satisfaction because she's learned the value of tolerance? Is this movie for real? ANSWERS TO NOTHING was on 21 screens at its widest release, grossing just $22,000. Sometimes in these strange days of movie distribution, good films often fall through the cracks and wait to be discovered. Other times, 21 screens are 21 too many. With all the depth and insight of a lovestruck 12-year-old's poetry journal, ANSWERS TO NOTHING is an insultingly shallow, unreleasable waste of time. (R, 124 mins)
JULIA'S EYES (Spain - 2010; 2011 US release)
After her cinematic breakthrough in Alejandro Amenabar's THE SEA INSIDE (2004), Belen Rueda has found a niche as Spain's go-to star for woman-in-distress thrillers. Produced by Guillermo Del Toro, who also produced Rueda's 2007 arthouse horror hit THE ORPHANAGE, JULIA'S EYES is an intriguing suspense outing that overstays its welcome a bit, but works thanks to Rueda's strong, committed performance. Here, Rueda plays two roles: astronomer Julia and, briefly, her twin sister Sara. Blind Sara commits suicide in the opening scene. Julia, afflicted with the same degenerative vision disorder but at a slower rate, isn't buying it and believes Sara was murdered by a mystery boyfriend she's heard about. It's difficult to summarize the plot without massive spoilers, but the film really hits its stride when Julia, who eventually does go blind and has surgery to restore her sight, regains her vision and finds herself face-to-face with a killer while pretending to still be blind. Director Guillem Morales knows how to stage a suspense set piece and makes an interesting decision to never show anyone's face but Rueda's during the section of the film where she's blind, but really drags things out a little longer than is needed. And of course it has multiple endings (you know the killer has to jump up again for one more attack after he's assumed dead) and could've been a lot tighter if it ran about 20 minutes shorter, but overall, it's an intense nailbiter with numerous nods to older classic thrillers like WAIT UNTIL DARK and the gialli of Dario Argento. (Unrated, 117 mins)
Directed by Roger Deodato (Ruggero Deodato). Written by Ernesto Gastaldi and Renzo Genta. Cast: James Franciscus, Mimsy Farmer, Van Johnson, Joseph Cotten, Mario Maranzana, Venantino Venantini, Mag Fleming (Fiamma Maglione), Edmund Purdom, Francisco Charles, Ottaviano dell'Acqua, Renzo Marignano, Robert Kerman, Robert Spafford, Goffredo Unger, John P. Dulaney, John Stacy, Michael Gaunt, Jake Teague, Dakar, Marie Claude Joseph. (Unrated, 96 mins)
Throughout the 1970s and 1980s, Italian ripoffs of American blockbusters were big business at US drive-ins and in grindhouses and provided constant employment for American actors ranging from leading men and women whose stars were fading to aging Hollywood vets from the golden era, or some who simply wanted a paid vacation and figured nobody outside of Europe would ever see it. Wade through enough Eurocult exploitation swill and you'll be amazed at what you find. Henry Fonda appearing in the 1977 Italian JAWS ripoff TENTACLES or Kirk Douglas starring in the 1978 Italian OMEN ripoff HOLOCAUST 2000 are merely scratching the surface. Wait until you get to Richard Harris taking third billing in Bruno Mattei's 1988 RAMBO ripoff STRIKE COMMANDO 2, the standard by which all "WTF is (fill in actor's name) doing in this?!" Eurotrash paycheck gigs are judged.
Universal's AIRPORT franchise, along with blockbusters like THE POSEIDON ADVENTURE (1972) and THE TOWERING INFERNO (1974) were the building blocks of the '70s disaster film cycle, so, as had happened in the same decade with a flood of GODFATHER and EXORCIST clones, it was inevitable that the Italians would have to make their own version of a disaster movie. And, in true exploitation fashion, Ruggero Deodato's CONCORDE AFFAIR was rushed through production quickly and cheaply and beat its big-budget counterpart (THE CONCORDE: AIRPORT '79, the final film in the franchise) to European screens by several months. Despite featuring more American stars than was typical for such fare, CONCORDE AFFAIR never made it into American theaters, though it was acquired in 1983 (four years after its release everywhere else and several years after the disaster craze had died down and been so brilliantly parodied by AIRPLANE! in 1980), by none other than the Weinstein brothers in the early days of Miramax. But they shelved it and it's really only been seen on bootleg VHS and unauthorized DVDs over the years. And now, possibly as part of its deal with Miramax, this little-seen B-movie is now streaming on Netflix.
As far as cheap Italian ripoffs go, it's pretty entertaining, though much of the amusement comes from just how little of the plot and the primary action take place on an airplane. A Concorde test flight experiences technical problems and crashes near the Antilles, and it's actually sabotage set in motion by evil rival airline CEO Milland (CITIZEN KANE's Joseph Cotten) who wants to put the Concorde out of business. Milland doesn't count on the test flight's one attendant, Jean Beneyton (Mimsy Farmer), surviving the crash. He dispatches his henchmen, led by the ruthless Forsythe (Venantino Venantini), to kill Jean, but instead, they hold her captive and try to blackmail Milland, who's easily one of cinema's most recklessly hubristic businessmen. Meanwhile, hack NYC reporter Moses Brody (BENEATH THE PLANET OF THE APES' James Franciscus) has an ex-wife (Fiamma Maglione) on Martinique, and she gives him a tip to get down there because she knows something about the Concorde crash. The ex is mysteriously dead by the time Brody arrives, and after doing some investigating, he discovers the sunken Concorde. By the time he convinces the American consulate to look into the matter, Milland has had the plane destroyed. Brody rescues Jean, with Forsythe and his goons in hot pursuit, and in the meantime, a second Concorde, piloted by Capt. Scott (THE CAINE MUTINY's Van Johnson), is taking off from NYC to London, and Milland has dispatched new saboteurs to ensure this flight will suffer the same consequences.
It seems like there's about four different movies going on here. The bulk of the film deals with Brody's investigation in the Antilles, with a lot of underwater sequences and even a brief shark attack, as if Deodato was giving Franciscus a taste of what he'd encounter a couple of years later in Enzo G. Castellari's GREAT WHITE. There's periodic cutaways to an irate Cotten, sitting in his office and grumbling to yes-man Danker (Edmund Purdom). Johnson doesn't even appear until nearly an hour into the film, and even then, he's never seen out of the pilot's seat. I'd bet Hollywood legends Cotten and Johnson, by now old hands at vacillating between quick-buck appearances in Italian trash and enjoying the relative prestige of LOVE BOAT and FANTASY ISLAND guest spots, didn't spend more than two, maybe three days working on this.
James Franciscus and Mimsy Farmer
Franciscus is fine in the lead, bringing an appropriate Charlton Heston-esque gravitas to the proceedings. A well-known movie and TV actor, Franciscus still never quite made it to Hollywood's A-list, which probably made it a certainty that he'd end up in movies like this, Antonio Margheriti's KILLER FISH (also 1979) and Castellari's GREAT WHITE (1982), while tackling supporting roles in American films like Irwin Allen's WHEN TIME RAN OUT (1980). Franciscus was a believable and good-looking actor who deserved a better career. He didn't act after 1985 and was only 57 when he died of complications from emphysema in 1991. You'd think he'd end up being the hero in CONCORDE AFFAIR, but he's pretty much relegated to the sideline for the last 20 or so minutes, though he does get to give Farmer an inspirational pep talk when she's on the phone with Heathrow air traffic controllers. I love that the British air traffic guys are all played by dubbed-with-Brit-accents NYC porn actors Robert Kerman (aka R. Bolla), Michael Gaunt, and Jake Teague, all of whom made periodic appearances in Italian exploitation.
Deodato, largely a journeyman at this point in his career, follows the disaster formula and keeps things pretty restrained in CONCORDE AFFAIR, a surprise considering his next two films were his masterpiece/albatross CANNIBAL HOLOCAUST and the scuzzy HOUSE ON THE EDGE OF THE PARK (both 1980). Deodato had dabbled in over-the-top exploitation before, with 1975's sexploitation WAVES OF LUST, 1976's insane poliziotteschi LIVE LIKE A COP, DIE LIKE A MAN, and 1977's gorefest THE LAST CANNIBAL WORLD (aka JUNGLE HOLOCAUST, THE LAST SURVIVOR). There's an F-bomb early on and one gory shot of a guy getting shot in the face, but other than that, CONCORDE AFFAIR is tame by Deodato standards, displaying none of the stomach-turning imagery and disturbing violence so prevalent in many of his other films.
Featuring a large cast of name actors and Eurocult mainstays (including a rare on-camera appearance by gravelly-voiced dubbing vet Robert Spafford), and all the familiar dubbing voices, plus hilarious miniatures and a Concorde model surrounded by toy cars in the climax, as well as a Stelvio Cipriani score that features the composer at his most harpsichordy, CONCORDE AFFAIR is mindless entertainment that should please Eurotrash completists. The relative rarity of it, at least for US viewers, is enough to make it a curio title, especially since Netflix streaming has granted it the easiest accessibility it's ever had in America. Their print looks like a 1.33 VHS transfer, cropped down from its original 2.35--not ideal, but given the circumstances, it's better than nothing.
Trailer for French release, titled S.O.S. CONCORDE
