The various famous directors who participated in this big budget cinematic tribute to Rod Serling's classic anthology show certainly have their hearts in the right place, but the net results of said affection are nonetheless decidedly hit or miss just the same.
First and most uneven story: Vic Morrow gives an excellent performance as Valentine, a bitter and short-tempered racist bigot who gets a taste of his own yucky hateful medicine when he's thrust into the past and has to deal first hand with the harsh treatment of assorted minorities he has a vehement disdain for. The infamous helicopter incident aside, this one leaves a foul aftertaste because Valentine really doesn't deserve his ultimate dismal fate writer/director John Landis gives him at the dissatisfying conclusion.
Second and most mushy yarn: The rundown elderly residents at an old folks are magically transformed back into children by a special late-night game of kick the can. Director Steven Spielberg wallows way too much in the horrendously cloying and excessive sentimental swamp, but thankfully Scatman Crothers' wonderfully radiant and enjoyable turn as a jolly ol' gent prevents this baby from being an outright disaster.
Third and most imaginative vignette: School teacher Helen Foley (a sturdy and appealing Kathleen Quinlan) encounters Anthony (the splendid Jeremy Licht), a lonely little boy with a powerful psychic gift that enables him to create anything with his mind. Director Joe Dante completely cuts loose with gloriously bizarre, startling, and hugely entertaining results: It's garishly stylized, with amazingly surreal set designs, lots of cool touches (all the TV sets in Anthony's house play only cartoons), and several deliciously grotesque monsters. Moreover, veterans William Schallert, Patricia Barry, and especially Kevin McCarthy are all in top form as Anthony's "family," plus there are nifty cameos by Cherie Currie (sans mouth) and the ever-welcome Dick Miller as Walter Paisley (of course).
Fourth, strongest, and most suspenseful anecdote: Director George Miller seriously cooks with primo unleaded gas with this absolute tour-de-force of sheer teeth-rattling white-knuckle tension, with John Lithgow hitting it right out of the ballpark with his bravura acting as Valentine, a sweaty and panic-stricken neurotic who sees a pesky gremlin (Larry Cedar in a funky monster outfit) on the wing of a passenger plane during a severe thunderstorm, but can't convince anyone else on board about it.
Dan Aykroyd and Albert Brooks are also totally up to snuff as two guys reminiscing about old "Twilight Zone" episodes in a car in the amusing prologue (Ackroyd also pops up again at the very end of the final segment). Moreover, such familiar faces as Charles Hallahan, Doug McGrath, Al Leong, John Larroquette, Steven Williams, Peter Brocco, and John Dennis Johnston are featured throughout. Jerry Goldsmith's rich score and Burgess Meredith's sublimely whimsical narration help out a lot. Overall none too shabby, but it could (and should) have been much better.
First and most uneven story: Vic Morrow gives an excellent performance as Valentine, a bitter and short-tempered racist bigot who gets a taste of his own yucky hateful medicine when he's thrust into the past and has to deal first hand with the harsh treatment of assorted minorities he has a vehement disdain for. The infamous helicopter incident aside, this one leaves a foul aftertaste because Valentine really doesn't deserve his ultimate dismal fate writer/director John Landis gives him at the dissatisfying conclusion.
Second and most mushy yarn: The rundown elderly residents at an old folks are magically transformed back into children by a special late-night game of kick the can. Director Steven Spielberg wallows way too much in the horrendously cloying and excessive sentimental swamp, but thankfully Scatman Crothers' wonderfully radiant and enjoyable turn as a jolly ol' gent prevents this baby from being an outright disaster.
Third and most imaginative vignette: School teacher Helen Foley (a sturdy and appealing Kathleen Quinlan) encounters Anthony (the splendid Jeremy Licht), a lonely little boy with a powerful psychic gift that enables him to create anything with his mind. Director Joe Dante completely cuts loose with gloriously bizarre, startling, and hugely entertaining results: It's garishly stylized, with amazingly surreal set designs, lots of cool touches (all the TV sets in Anthony's house play only cartoons), and several deliciously grotesque monsters. Moreover, veterans William Schallert, Patricia Barry, and especially Kevin McCarthy are all in top form as Anthony's "family," plus there are nifty cameos by Cherie Currie (sans mouth) and the ever-welcome Dick Miller as Walter Paisley (of course).
Fourth, strongest, and most suspenseful anecdote: Director George Miller seriously cooks with primo unleaded gas with this absolute tour-de-force of sheer teeth-rattling white-knuckle tension, with John Lithgow hitting it right out of the ballpark with his bravura acting as Valentine, a sweaty and panic-stricken neurotic who sees a pesky gremlin (Larry Cedar in a funky monster outfit) on the wing of a passenger plane during a severe thunderstorm, but can't convince anyone else on board about it.
Dan Aykroyd and Albert Brooks are also totally up to snuff as two guys reminiscing about old "Twilight Zone" episodes in a car in the amusing prologue (Ackroyd also pops up again at the very end of the final segment). Moreover, such familiar faces as Charles Hallahan, Doug McGrath, Al Leong, John Larroquette, Steven Williams, Peter Brocco, and John Dennis Johnston are featured throughout. Jerry Goldsmith's rich score and Burgess Meredith's sublimely whimsical narration help out a lot. Overall none too shabby, but it could (and should) have been much better.