R.I.P., Stuart Gordon

I'm sorry to report the death of Chicago horror icon/auteur Stuart Gordon. Though he was best known for his major masterpiece, RE-ANIMATOR, and, perhaps, his connection to HONEY, I SHRUNK THE KIDS (whereupon Disney almost broke him entirely), he made many of the greatest horror films of the 80s, 90s, and 00s, which always brimmed with dark comedy and social commentary––from the best Full Moon Picture THE PIT AND THE PENDULUM, to the primordial suburban stew of KING OF THE ANTS, to the best rock-em-sock-robot movie ever made, ROBOT JOX (yeah, that's right, PACIFIC RIM), to the underrated mayhem of DOLLS, to his pitch-black indictment of modern indulgence STUCK, to all his other Lovecraft adapations, FROM BEYOND, DAGON, and the oft-overlooked CASTLE FREAK. He was a great theater director, too, and I was lucky enough to see NEVERMORE in 2011 (his "Jeffrey Combs-as-Edgar Allan Poe" one-man-show) and wished for years for his production of TASTE to come to NYC (it hasn't yet). He certainly left his mark on modern horror––and, as Don Coscarelli remembers––he summed up the genre perhaps better than anyone: "Horror films are a rehearsal for our own deaths."

Only now does it occur to me... HOLLYWOOD HOMICIDE (2003)

Only now does it occur to me... that it's hard to imagine a more awkward turn-of-the-century buddy cop movie than HOLLYWOOD HOMICIDE. Written and directed by Ron Shelton––a minor master of the modern sports pic (BULL DURHAM, COBB, TIN CUP, WHITE MEN CAN'T JUMP) and someone who, one year previous, managed to make an actually decent LAPD movie (DARK BLUE)––HOLLYWOOD HOMICIDE serves up a true smörgåsbord of clumsy plotting, wooden gags, character actors trying their hardest, and stars who clearly hate each other. It's also the only buddy cop movie I can think of that spends at least 1/3 of its run-time making in-jokes about property values and the L.A. realty scene.

I could begin with Lou Diamond Phillips' baffling appearance as an undercover cop/trans prostitute:


a role that nevertheless ends with the audience muttering, "Well, in the eyes of history, it's still possible that LDP actually conducted himself less shamefully than Harrison Ford."

Which leads us to HOLLYWOOD HOMICIDE's centerpiece: "Doesn't-Give-A-Shit Harrison Ford." And before you tell me that this is simply Harrison Ford's default state, might I remind you that this wasn't always true.

I suppose the reality is a little more nuanced than that. Perhaps this is better described as "Miserable Harrison Ford." And even though I am a Harrison Ford fan who grew up on Han Solo and Indiana Jones, there is something essentially and magnificently funny about seeing Ford undergo trials of pure agony for a paycheck he doesn't even need. However, I think we can all agree that this can't really be the backbone of a successful motion picture.

Take, for instance, this scene of L.A. cop Harrison Ford coming home after a long day of busting bad guys to drink some Scotch. It's basically a retread of his domestic scenes in BLADE RUNNER. And yet. The script calls for Ford to unwind with a weird little solo dance of relaxation. Obviously, Harrison Ford hates this.





Hates it with every fiber of his being. He's clearly restraining himself from murdering everyone on set. But Harrison: why aren't you back home then, in Wyoming? Shut away from this world of troublesome people and public places, hermetically sealed, just the way you like it, ya lovable misanthrope? Maybe he's just a masochist.

...As depicted in these sex scenes with THE UNBEARABLE LIGHTNESS OF BEING's Lena Olin.


"Bad cop, no doughnut?" HE HATES THIS.


Time for the blindfolds. Of course this is a set up for an excruciating, doughnut-devouring sexual climax:

HE IS SO UPSET RIGHT NOW. It's probably a violation of the Geneva Convention to put Harrison Ford through this much mental anguish. I'm trying to imagine Harrison Ford hosting SATURDAY NIGHT LIVE. Seems like he should've at this point, right? But he never did. I think that's because the strain of being zany in skits he wouldn't understand might just kill him. They probably should have saved Natalie Portman's "she lost the will to live" dumb STAR WARS death for Han Solo. Harrison Ford definitely could have pulled that off.

And we haven't even come to the matter of Ford's co-star, the yoga-teaching rookie cop Josh Hartnett.

Apparently they couldn't stand each other whatsoever, with Ford constantly calling Hartnett "punk" and Hartnett calling Ford an "old fart." They should have at least tried to put some of that antagonism in the movie! Instead poor Keith David is over here holding the bag, trying to act while they avoid eye contact.

 

Some of us are professionals

And whatever happened to Josh Hartnett? He was hot shit for a minute there. If you're not considering "Harrison Ford Revenge Plot" then you haven't been paying attention.

Hey, look, it's Bruce Greenwood!

It actively makes me sad to see him trying so hard. Hang it up, Bruce. Save that good shit for Atom Egoyan.

Also trying, Lolita Davidovich (RAISING CAIN, COBB, GODS AND MONSTERS)

who does pretty well for herself despite being saddled with a $20 wig. Oh, okay, maybe it's a $35 wig.

C'mon, Martin Landau? He was old. You producers made him get out of bed to be in a movie this bad? Shame on you.

I don't even have time to show you all the celebrity cameos, from Gladys Knight to Eric Idle to Andre 3000 to Robert Wagner. THE PLAYER, this ain't. Anyway. You were probably a lot happier before you learned about HOLLYWOOD HOMICIDE, weren't you?

Only now does it occur to me... STAR WARS: DROIDS––TREASURE OF THE HIDDEN PLANET (1985)

Only now does it occur to me... I guess we're doing more of these, huh?  If you already read my thoughts on THE PIRATE AND THE PRINCE, then you know the score.

This is another feature-length fusion of four episodes of the mid-1980s animated series DROIDS. TREASURE OF THE HIDDEN PLANET is written by Ben Burtt (STAR WARS' iconic sound designer) and stars a character named Mungo Baobob who is basically Kenny Loggins and/or Jesus.

It takes cojones to name your protagonist "Mungo Baobob." He gets a solid "Bob Vance, Vance Refrigeration" moment
 
where he says he's "Mungo Baobab of the Baobab Merchant Fleet." This is *chef's kiss*-style good writing. Anyway.

Now, there is a hell of a lot going on here, and I only have the patience to scratch the surface. So, if you'll buckle up, here are ten bizarro minutiae from TREASURE OF THE HIDDEN PLANET.

#1. This is probably the most important. To the degree that people were pissed off when they learned that R2-D2 could fly in REVENGE OF THE SITH but never used that power before or since, they ought to be delighted that TREASURE OF THE HIDDEN PLANET reveals R2-D2 has been keeping his motherfuckin' breakdance moves a secret until now.


He puts some lukewarm alien calypso on the jukebox, apropos of nothing, and just starts busting moves. He's windmilling, he's jackhammering, he's moonwalking, he's poppin' his goddamn lid.





Really top-notch stuff. It's too bad George never licensed any STAR WARS spin-offs to Cannon Films.


#2. The plot. To the point at which random MacGuffins seasoned with a hearty dose of sci-fi technology can function as a genuine plot, I guess what we're looking at here is a treasure buried on a secret Sith planet



which is disguised by a massive dust cloud called "The Cloak of Sith." The only way to find it is to have C-3PO translate an ancient artifact/miniature pyramid thing


which can unlock the secret of the mysterious star system. If you haven't fallen asleep yet, you may note that this is almost exactly the nuts & bolts of the Exegol/Sith Wayfinder plot in J.J. Abrams' THE RISE OF SKYWALKER. Given that they took Kylo Ren/Kybo Ren from an old episode of DROIDS already, I think we can pretty much assume they lifted this wholesale.

#3. There's a moment where C-3PO's memory is about to be wiped, and his tormentor asks him what name he would like to be called by in his new iteration.


He stops just short of saying "Anthony Daniels," the actor who plays C-3PO (and who is voicing him here in the cartoon, as well).

#4. The Trouble with Tribble/Muppets. There's a subplot with alien creatures who are halfway between STAR TREK's Tribbles and the muppet aliens who sing "Mahna Mahna" on THE MUPPET SHOW.


This is mostly a device so we can see the answers to the questions "what would C-3PO look like in an ash-blonde wig?"

and "how well he would rock a beard?"

The answers are "not as good as you'd think," and "remarkably well," respectively.

#5. R2-D2 finally gets a medal. Most classic STAR WARS nerds' ire was directed at the fact that Chewbacca didn't get a medal at the end of A NEW HOPE, but R2-D2 really put his ass on the line, too, and hey, whaddya know, the little guy finally got one.

Of course it's for winning a horse/tauntaun/thing race, and not for getting his dome singed in the Battle of Yavin.

#6. Speaking of which, this pivotal race on so-called "rockhoppers" ends up being a unfortunately long-winded part of the story

and I'm fairly certain that it inspired both the "Fathier racetrack" in THE LAST JEDI


as well as the annoying, two-headed announcer from the extremely "wizard" podrace in THE PHANTOM MENACE:


So this is more, seemingly endless evidence of the outsize influence DROIDS played in the prequel and sequel trilogies. So weird.

#7. And love how they have R2-D2 astride this hot-dog space horse. How does he stay on there?

Really dignified stuff.


#8. The villains. We have the Imperial officer version of Doctor Claw on the one hand,

and on the other we basically have Oliver North-funded space Contras

who commit war crimes, atrocities, mind-flaying, etc.
 
Sort of a strange juxtaposition for a kids' cartoon, but, hey, it was the Reagan years. Gotta educate 'em on right-wing banana republics sometime.

Also there're Cthulhu priests wandering around here, too. The live-action version of this would be too disturbing for a PG rating, I'm sure.


#9. R2-D2 is always turning up new and increasingly phallic capabilities. Turns out he contains an entire 10-foot fire hose

for when you need to wash away the mud creatures tormenting C-3PO.


Spoiler alert: it's not

And a curiously-placed 3PO leash for when the golden boy is showing too much self-determination.




#10. An escalating circus of sexuality, the likes of which we haven't seen since SPLINTER OF THE MIND'S EYE. As I've written previously, the DROIDS series seems dedicated to placing a lot of STAR WARS' sexual subtext directly into the "text."
 
Interesting aside: when a grotesque droid named LIN-D decides to make a play and mack on R2-D2

he quickly realizes his mistake, and consequently invites 3PO to the party as well.

But 3PO shuts it down outright, because 3PO don't swing:


Elsewhere, when they land on a snow planet, R2-D2 escalates the situation by immediately making some extremely suggestive spread-eagle snow angels

which prompts a scolding from 3PO:

That's it––it's canon now: when the Rebels first landed on Hoth before the events of THE EMPIRE STRIKES BACK, R2 was exclusively doing this for months while they built Echo Base.


Finally, due to some fuzzy plotting and a "shrinking mirror"


R2 gets HONEY, I SHRUNK THE KIDS'd. Naturally, C-3PO's first reaction is to 
toss him inside his empty (?!) abdominal cavity.

I've never been more confident that someone is getting off on this.

Anyway: DROIDS, ladies and gentlemen.