Reviews

This movie would seem to have everything going for it; a top cast that delivers uniformly fine acting, excellent writing and direction, all combined with stunning cinematography. So, why doesn't it work? That is the question I've been asking myself ever since the first viewing. ( A second look proved no more enlightening. ) It can't be the slow pace, as I have seen many films paced at least as leisurely as this one - ( "Eyes Wide Shut" springs to mind ) - that I have found spellbinding. The music doesn't help. Slow and lugubrious, it helps to create an oppressive atmosphere that never lets up. No, I believe the answer lies somewhere in the combination of these two elements; what I call the Ken Burns factor.

Simply put, "The Assassination of Jesse James" - fine as it is on many levels - is an ultimately depressing experience. Add to the mix the fact that Casey Affleck mumbles much of the time and key lines of dialogue are often unintelligible, and you are left with a major disappointment.

By now, everyone - but everyone - has commented on what bad history this movie is. Fine, I won't argue the point. But, what about it as drama? In my opinion, this is one of the most powerful tales of tragedy of it's time. ( This is particularly noteworthy given MGM's later penchant for frivolousness. ) Part of it has do do with the sincerity and conviction of the story. [ Alhough Charles MacArtur and others are given credit for the screenplay, I believe the original story - I have read a copy of the book - was written by a Russian émigré who fled the revolution. Unfortunately, I am presently unable to locate my copy. ] Nonetheless, this would go a long way towards explaining the movie's passion.

As for the acting; it features an outstanding cast, including the three Barrymores, as well as an assemblage of first rate supporting actors of the time. ( Anyone notice Edwarld Arnold as Dr. Remezov? ) Of course, much of it seems dated by today's standards. ( This was 1932, after all. ) Keep in mind that this is high melodrama. In that context, Lionel Barrymore exudes pure evil as the scheming, mad monk. He also brings out the crudity and vulgarity of the man, which generally jibes with historical accounts. Just try not to dwell on the fake beard.

John is fine and properly earnest as Prince Chegodieff, although his performance does seem a bit old-fashioned next to Lionel's. He really lets it all hang out in the murder scene, however. Ethel seems a trifle stiff, but Ralph Morgan is just right as Nicholas. In fact, sincerity and seriousness of purpose seem to be the hallmarks of the entire ensemble. And through it all, there is this sense of tragic inevitability; of events that, once set in motion, cannot be reversed.

One other thing that warrants a mention is the music. The Russian Orthodox liturgical music used in the celebratory scene near the beginning is moving and powerful. It could well put one in mind of the the wedding scene in Michael Cimino's "The Deer Hunter" ( 1978 ). Later, there is a medley of martial music, accompanied by historical footage, as Russia mobilizes for The Great War. Here we hear "God Save the Tsar", a tune which Mikhail Glinka featured in his opera, "A Life for the Tsar", but which was routinely banned during Soviet performances. All in all, exciting stuff.

This is a movie well worth watching, historical accuracy notwithstanding.

Once upon a time, television was a place of wondrous discovery. The most strange and surprising things were liable to turn up at any time, despite the fact that most people only had 8 to 12 channels to choose from. Alas, with the advent of syndication and cable, those days have virtually disappeared. Now, we are blessed with 500 channels of bland, cookie cutter pap. Which brings me to the case at hand.

I saw "Conspiracy" at 3:05 CDT this morning. It ran on WLS Ch.7 in Chicago. Ch.7 - bless 'em! - is one of the last stations in existence to maintain a film library stocked with treasures that, in some cases, may not have been seen in the last 50 years. "Conspiracy" was one of those rare treats that TV used to be all about. It's a true oddity even for it's time ( 1930 ). Starring the redoubtable Ned Sparks, an actor once well enough known that Warner based a cartoon character - ( a suspender wearing rooster ) - upon him, it's about a woman in peril ( Bessie Love ), an intrepid reporter ( Hugh Trevor ) and a bizarre crime novelist named Winthrop Clavering who, for some reason, goes by the nickname of Little Nemo. Oh, and it's based upon a play, which helps explain some of the, at times, stilted dialogue.

As for details of the story; well, there really isn't much need to go into them. Oh, OK; a girl murders a mobster who is out to get her brother and spends the rest of the film dealing with the characters mentioned above, as well as trying to protect the brother from mob vengeance. Mostly the movie deals with the oddball Nemo, a cantankerous coot who is convinced he can outsmart the cops and solve the mystery. Still with me? The fascination of obscurities such as "Conspiracy" is that they give us a glimpse into a world that is so alien to most of us that it is positively breathtaking. These are characters that even a 60 year old codger such as myself find totally unfamiliar. For example, the heroin is clad in a fox stole that would give PETA the screaming heebie jeebies. I mean, this thing is so complete - head, tail and feet - that you almost expect it to start talking. Other period touches include a Black maid with a smart mouth, and assorted exotic villains who speak in indeterminate foreign accents and wear odd jewelry.

Now, if all this sounds as intriguing to you as it was to me, then I urge you to seek out "Conspiracy" at all costs. Unfortunately, it won't be easy. Perhaps a better idea would be to give your "local" cable company bloody heck for not having more programming such as this readily available. In either case, good luck!

Having watched a lot of really low budget movies in the last few weeks, it was quite a change to experience "Neverwas". Once again, I was reminded that big names - and presumably a big budget - do not necessarily add up to a good piece of film making. "Nerverwas" is an example of all that can go wrong when you are dealing with an implausible, ludicrous script.

Like many such films, it begins promisingly enough. A young Psychiatrist ( Aaron Eckhart ) returns to the mental institution where his father ( Nick Nolte ) was once a patient. Here, he encounters the crusty Head Shrinker ( William Hurt ) who is reluctant to take him on. Our hero persists, and soon he is introduced to the "group". This is where the first red flag goes up. Although it is supposed to be a group of patients, it quickly becomes apparent that the only one Dr. Zach Riley - as well as the movie - is interested in is a reclusive eccentric named Gabriel Finch ( Ian McKellan, doing his usual thing. ) We soon learn that Zach has his own problems, which center around his late father, a renown author of children's stories. There is a psychological story here dealing with the relationship between Zach and his father, but it is eventually subverted by a lot of fairy tale clap-trap. We are plunged into a typical Hollywood world of fantasy running head on into reality. As usual, it's reality and logic that suffer the most damage.

In a typical case of Third Act-itis, the film totally disintegrates into downright silliness. It seems that Gabriel's "Kingdom" of Neverwas is threatened by evil developers, and it is up to Zach to save the day. What transpires next will leave you scratching your head and wondering why in the world - real or imaginary - you wasted your time with this pretentious dreck. But of course, it's all right you see, because the last scenes simply drip with feel goodness. This is supposed to make the viewer forget that the the whole thing is poppycock.

I have not dwelt on the acting because, in the end, it's all pretty irrelevant. Eckhart is, by turns, suitably tortured and heroic as Zach; McKellen does his thing; Hurt is his usual semi-catatonic self and Nolte: Well, let's just say that Nolte seems to have a penchant for getting himself into movies like this. Oh, and then there's Alan Cumming as the only other patient with more than two lines as well as Brittany Murphy as a totally wasted love interest for Zach. At least Jessica Lange is good as Zach's loopy mother.

All in all, a heck of a lot of talent squandered on a preposterous script. The Philip Glass score adds little.

This truly crappy women-in-prison flick looks like a leftover from the 1970s. Like so many of that genre, it was shot in the Philippines. One difference; instead of a totally no-name cast, it has Tanya Roberts, the erstwhile Charlie's Angel. Hold your Oscar nominations, please.

Though none exists, this movie could easily be subtitled, "Carly and Melanie Go to Africa and Get Gang Raped." That's pretty much the size of it. Sadly, poor Melanie drops out in the first twenty minutes, so that leaves Carly ( Roberts ) to fend for herself against a bunch of really yucky people. They're yucky, she's plucky. The outcome is predictable.

Lots of people get killed along the way, not that anyone really cares. The biggest question remains: What is John Newland doing in this dreck? Yes, that's right; the same John Newland who hosted the Sci-Fi TV classic from the 1950s, "One Step Beyond". He's dead now, so it's impossible to ask him. One can only imagine that his last wish was to have his name deleted from the credits. That appears to have been granted.

For those of you with some age under your fingernails - ( Whaa?? ) - you may remember when TV was a constant source of discovery. This was before cable. Hell, it was even before UHF. Yes, long before 500 channels of computer regulated crap, there was a time when you could flip on the set and have no idea just what you might encounter. Tonight was one of those times.

Just finished watching "The Fall Guy". A man ( Johnny Quinlan ) falls in with a drug smuggling crook ( Thomas E. Jackson ) while his girlfriend's brother ( Ned Sparks ) cracks wise. That's really all you need to know, other than that the story is compelling enough to hold one's interest through even the most banal of late night commercials.

Oh, and a couple of other things: Ned Sparks must have been a big enough star in his day to have inspired a Warner Bros. cartoon parody. As for Thomas E. Jackson; close your eyes and you will swear you are listening to Lewis "Studs" Turkel. Think the studly one might have seen this movie? Hey, take it easy...but take it! Anyway, what inspired me to take keyboard in hand here is the fact that I saw this movie for the first time moments ago. On TV. Not on some esoteric cable station, but on good old WLS Ch.7 in Chicago. That's right, someone found this one in the vaults, dusted it off and stuck it on Insomiac Theater. LORD A' MIGHTY! This is what TV used to be about; discovery, the unexpected and all, those other good things that made us kids born in the late 40s and early 50s fall in love with the unblinking eye. Excuse me while I go weep for what once was...and still could be.

There may be many wonderful things about this movie, all of which will - I'm sure - have been discussed in great detail. Therefore, I do not find it my responsibility to talk about them.

The second thing that struck me about "Rushmore" was the wonderful 60s selection of songs. There is something thrilling about hearing music with which you are familiar, but that has somehow managed to escape the attention of the pin-heads in charge of selecting the oldies play lists. To hear these songs again, after so many years; know them, and yet have to go look them up, is a wonderful incentive to go out and purchase the sound track album.

Unfortunately, the first thing that caught my attention was the character of Max Fisher himself. Calling him unlikable would be pathetic understatement. As portrayed by Jason Schwartzman - where is my fly swatter when I need it? - Max is so vile, so smugly repulsive that before 50 minutes had elapsed, I had concluded that the only way to deal with him would be by a bullet through the brain; as quickly as possible. This is NOT entertainment, particularly when you have already grasped the despicable fact that he is the "hero" of the piece.

Bill Murray is no help. Though I feel he more than redeemed himself in Wes Anderson's subsequent - ( no pun intended ) - "The Life Aquatic", this is more of a harbinger of the self-satisfied catatonia he was to bring to "Lost In Translation". Not quite as somnambulent perhaps, but just as irritating. Sadly, he and Max deserve each other.

A thoroughly unwatchable film, unless you somehow find Max "cute".

As a fan of Jean Shepherd since the early 70s, allow me to point out a few faults; egregious and otherwise: a.) It's not Lud Ditka - we all know where that surname came from - it is Lud Kissel. Somehow, Bob Clark has decided to do a morph job on the Kissel clan.

b.) Charles Grodin is a wretched, miserable excuse for an actor. He should NEVER have been cast as "The Old Man", and both James Broderick and Darrin McGavin must be spinning in their graves - presuming the latter is dead.

c.) And now for the topper; the only baseball reference is to the hated Cubs. This is an obvious concession to the same group of morons that Clark was hoping to attract with the Ditka fabrication. Anyone who has ever read, heard or even looked at Jean Shepherd knows that he is a WHITE SOX fan to the core! It is part of the very fiber of his being, as well as those of Ralph's entire northwest Indiana family. For Sheperd to have allowed this slander, this total distortion of everything he stands for, can only mean one of two things; either he was comatose at the time of shooting, or he was made a monetary offer he couldn't refuse. My money - you should pardon the expression - is on the latter.

So, enjoy the amusing bits - ( most of them come early anyway ) - then try and forget you ever saw this sacrilege and do your best to wait patiently until next Christmas, when the REAL Parker clan will once again be on display. My friends, you have been warned.

Alec Guinness once again plays a dual role. In this one, his two personas are that of a wicked French count and a benign Englishman. Despite some interesting supporting cast, including a very Baby Janeish Bette Davis, the story seems somehow only half told, and the two Guinness characters remain frustratingly underdeveloped. We sense a conflict between good and evil, but we are never made to understand why this is nor how it came about. The ending is frustrating in the extreme.

I decided to write this primarily to point out the appearance of Donald Pleasence as a desk clerk. Up till now, he remains uncredited.

All of this said, I would still recommend watching this oddity the next time it happens to come around. It is Alec Guinness, afterall.

Having just finished watching this film, as well as reading the previous reviews and agreeing with most all of what has been said, I have a quibble and a comment. The quibble first: The only blemish on an otherwise outstandingly cast movie was Wilfried Seyferth's SS Mann Scholtz. Even in late 1944 / early 1945, one would not have found this Sgt. Schultz style caricature in the ranks of the Schutzstaffel. True, the SS had lowered their standards, but never to that level! This is a criticism based not on some sort of personal preference, but rather on the fact that this fat, slovenly stereotype lacked credibility, and therefore the requisite menace.

As for the comment: Several reviewers have expressed surprise over the seemingly objective, even-handed view of the Germans presented so shortly after the war. Against all expectations, this was more the rule rather than the exception at that time. There was a brief window of clarity of observation that seems to have opened between the time of this film and the early 1960s. Sadly, rather than expand, this shut down in the late 60s, never to re-open to this day. The reason for this has never been clear to me, but I suspect that the continued demonization of the Germans of that period has become something of an industry. ( See almost anything by Stephen Spielberg. ) That said, I add to the general consensus that this is a gem well worth seeking out. Hopefully, MAX (AC) will run it again, soon.

It's been so many decades since I last saw this show that it all seems a bit dim. Still, I remember it as being just one more of those wonderfully watchable comedy / adventures from the 50s. The rather frightening visage of Minerva Urecal in the title role has never faded from memory, though it once took three hours of TOT ( tip of tongue ) phenomena to finally recall her name.

This was no knock off of the 30s movies. Minerva was a lot tougher than Marie Dressler - she could probably have chewed up and spat out the latter - and Walter Sande was hardly Wallace Beery. Still, this was an entertaining and thoroughly enjoyable program that had a peculiarly endearing quality. [ OK, the story involved the salty captain of the Narcissus ( Annie ) and her constant battles to keep the scheming Capt. Horatio Bullwinkle and his Salamander from stealing jobs from her and her crew. That was pretty much the extent of it. ] Hopefully, it will pop up again one of these days...assuming it already hasn't.

My biggest question about this movie is simply: How did the folks at MST-3000 ever miss this one? It simply cries out for the insights of Crow and Tom Servo.

Jim Davis ( "Dallas", "Guns Don't Argue" ) stars as the head of a group of scientists who attempt to launch some creatures into space. The rocket misfires and lands somewhere in darkest Africa where a bunch of wasps escape and grow into Sikorskys, thanks - natch - to atomic radiation. Davis then leads his own team of WASPS on an Orkin expedition to take care of the problem. Along the way, they are joined by Eduardo Ciannelli, looking a bit like Sabu's grandfather.

Nothing much goes right until the final scene, supposedly filmed in "Lava Vision", during which a giant volcanic eruption takes care of everything. This consists of the surviving crew standing around bathed in a red glow as the volcano - obviously taken from stock footage, as is much of the movie - does it's thing. All harmless fun really, it's only a shame that the MSTYs never got a hold of this one.