Only now does it occur to me... EARTH GIRLS ARE EASY (1988)

Only now does it occur to me...  okay, bear with me here. As you may know, I derive great joy from analyzing/grasping at harebrained pop cultural narratives, rivalries, curiosities, and other ephemera. Today we'll be looking at "The Ground You Walk On" sequence from the classic 80's Sci-Fi/Comedy/Musical, EARTH GIRLS ARE EASY.

This song is of the classic "scorned lover" variety, as Geena Davis realizes that her doctor fiancé (Charles Rocket) has been cheating on her and proceeds to sing about it while she cartoonishly destroys his stuff. There's a lot of archetypal 1980s tasting notes here on display, from the "80s rule of pools" (if there is a pool present, a character will be pushed into it, flailing, in a zany comic moment)

 to a Pin Art executive toy being used to reenact "The Scream"

to the yuppie tableaux of using a golf club to smash a cologne shelf 

 

 and using a bowling ball (and a ramp made of skis––not a ski ramp!) to destroy a vintage PC.

But I'm digressing. None of this is why we are here. We're here for... Madonna.

First, I must note that EARTH GIRLS ARE EASY is co-written and co-starring "West Coast" Julie Brown, comedian, actress, and MTV personality. Madonna has always been one of Brown's favorite targets, culminating finally in the hour-long MEDUSA: DARE TO BE TRUTHFUL (1991), a vicious send-up of MADONNA: TRUTH OR DARE (1991). This prompted a bitter Madonna to send Ms. Brown the vaguely head-scratching Spite Gift of a half-drunk bottle of champagne (sensationally characterized by some as Madonna "sending her own spit in a champagne bottle"). This, however, being 1988, predates that bitter little tête-à-tête. 

Anyway, in the aforementioned Geena Davis "scorned lover" song, Geena also destroys the record collection of her betrothed. This happens to include the soundtrack album to WHO'S THAT GIRL––the weird, 1987 screwball Madonna flop––the cover of which is emblazoned with Madonna's image. 

The film then takes a moment––a real, lived-in moment––to allow Geena Davis to luxuriate on a couch and hurl Madonna into a fire.

I'm no stranger to some gentle Madonna Mockery (see also: my reviews of BODY OF EVIDENCE and WHO'S THAT GIRL), and I think Geena flinging this particular record into the flames is pretty objectively magnificent. But was there any fallout from this incident? Would it still be on Madonna's mind four years later when she co-starred with Geena Davis in A LEAGUE OF THEIR OWN?

It would be difficult to know the answer to that question unless we had a window of insight into Madonna's mind, which would be fairly difficult to gauge, considering her levels of image control––but then... there's this, a letter from Madonna to the fashion photographer Steven Meisel, written during principal photography for A LEAGUE OF THEIR OWN. In short, she says:

"I cannot suffer any more than I have in the past month learning how to play baseball with a bunch of girls (yuk) in Chicago (double yuk) I have a tan, I am dirty all day and I hardly ever wear make-up. Penny Marshall is Lavern — Geena Davis is a Barbie doll and when God decided where the beautiful men were going to live in the world, he did not choose Chicago. I have made a few friends but they are athletes, not actresses. I hate actresses."

Now, did Madonna choose to insult Geena Davis in this generally off-target way (apparently we all missed out on 'BEETLEJUICE' Barbie) because she was still sore about Geena flinging the WHO'S THAT GIRL soundtrack into a fiery hearth, even though said flinging was, I would wager, explicity written into Julie Brown's script? Ah, who can say. For her part, Geena seems to harbor no ill feelings in interviews, referring to Madonna as a "trouper." 

Perhaps a fitting benediction to all of this nonsense would be my favorite quote from a zebra-printed teenage tailgater in HEAVY METAL PARKING LOT: "Heavy metal rules, man!... Madonna can go to hell as far as I'm concerned. She's a dick!"

Only now does it occur to me... THE FLY II

Only now does it occur to me...  that Eric Stolz may have been fired as Marty McFly, but eventually he did get to be "Martin the Fly."  It seems too weirdly specific to be mere coincidence.

By the sound of it, THE FLY II doesn't seem as if it would be a "good movie," and subsequently I'd avoided it for years, assuming the worst.  Now I'm prepared to say, without reservation, that THE FLY II is dad-blammed fantastic and one of the great sci-fi films of the 1980s.

The directorial debut of Chris Walas (one of the FX masters of 80s creature features– from GREMLINS to THE FLY to ENEMY MINE to ARACHNOPHOBIA to NAKED LUNCH), THE FLY II has a tremendous eye for visual detail and some of the finest practical effects I've ever seen.

We have spectacular makeup á la THE FLY and ENEMY MINE,

viscous ALIEN/THE THING-esque cocoon props,
 
 mind-blowing gore that nearly puts Tom Savini to shame,

and a titular creature whom history may well remember as one of the last great movie monsters before our fun was ruined by CGI.

 BZZZ

And since this isn't a full review, I'll share a few random observations:

#1.  There's a nice Cronenberg shoutout when a random Bartok security guard happens to be reading THE SHAPE OF RAGE, the first major scholarly study of the Cronenberg canon.
 

 #2.  An amusingly acerbic cameo appearance by John Getz ("Stathis," the quasi-villain and Goldblum rival from THE FLY 1).

He's the only FLY 1 cast member to officially return, though we do see Goldblum in some archival footage, a few clips of which were deleted scenes from the prior film.

#3.  A sensitive, pathos-filled lead performance from Eric Stoltz, who probably scored the gig based on his ability to deliver even when covered in makeup (MASK), but who in every sense transcends what you'd expect from a sequel to a remake of a sci-fi B-movie.

#4.  Also, it occurs to me that this may be the greatest accomplishment of Mick Garris, who wrote the story and co-authored the screenplay (with Frank Darabont, Jim Wheat, and Ken Wheat).  Though storywise it's closer to, say, a Spielberg flick rather than a Cronenberg one, it's a helluva lot of fun.  I've been ragging on Mr. Garris a lot lately (i.e., for DESPERATION and QUICKSILVER HIGHWAY), but hey– he brought us the finest CRITTERS sequel and the greatest (and only) sequel to Cronenberg's version of THE FLY.  Thanks, Mick!

–Sean Gill

Film Review: INVASION OF THE BODY SNATCHERS (1978, Philip Kaufman)

Stars: 5 of 5.
Running Time: 115 minutes.
Tag-line: "Get some sleep."
Notable Cast or Crew: Donald Sutherland, Leonard Nimoy, Jeff Goldblum, Brooke Adams (THE DEAD ZONE, DAYS OF HEAVEN), Art Hindle (PORKY'S, THE BROOD), Veronica Cartwright (ALIEN, THE RIGHT STUFF). Cameos by Don Siegel, Robert Duvall, and Kevin McCarthy. Written by W.D. Richter.
Best one-liner: "Here I am, you pod bastards! Hey, pods! Come and get me you scum!"

Now this is how you do a remake- measured, requisite homage to the source, a balanced degree of artistic reinterpretation, and a top-notch ensemble cast. As far as I'm concerned, this film ushered in a decade of well-made horror remakes (THE THING, THE FLY, THE BLOB, CAT PEOPLE)- a phenomenon that sadly, did not outlast the 80's. Philip Kaufman's INVASION OF THE BODY SNATCHERS brings a tremendous amount of artistry to the table: using a taut screenplay by W.D. Richter (BIG TROUBLE IN LITTLE CHINA, HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS), Kaufman masters the slow build, the character development, and paranoiac atmosphere necessary to pull this off. There are perfectly alienating moments that feel like they're culled from a film by Teshigahara: the cobwebby aliens fleeing their home planet, wafting through space- abstract forms set to atonal music:

a cameo by Robert Duvall as a sinister priest pendulating back and forth on a squeaky swingset:

a world in panic, viewed through the distorted, cracked windshield of a car...

These impressions build, ever so slowly, to a crescendo of sorts- one of encroaching madness. We see a world in transformation: a puzzle assembled before our very eyes- only by the time its true face is revealed, we've passed the point of no return. Our heroes (who strain to seek the truth before it's too late) include Donald Sutherland as a likable, rational health inspector:

Jeff Goldblum as a high-strung, rambling writer:

Brooke Adams as a winsome, persistent botanist:

Veronica Cartwright as a resolute hippie; and Leonard Nimoy as a self-help guru who preaches reason in a time where what's called for is volatility.


The special effects are entirely disturbing, and not on a level of sheer gore- it's an unsettling depiction of wholly alien, biological, bodily processes, and it really begins to get under your skin.

This is a disorienting movie, full of convex mirrors, handheld cameras, and wide-angle lens shots-

I would go as far to say that it surpasses the original in sheer effectiveness- and it culminates with an (atonally?) pitch-perfect finale. Five stars.

-Sean Gill

And as a side note- watch for ingenious Don Siegel and Kevin McCarthy cameos-

You're next!

Film Review: ADAM RESURRECTED (2008, Paul Schrader)

Stars: 2 of 5.
Running Time: 106 minutes.
Notable Cast or Crew: Jeff Goldblum, Willem Dafoe, Derek Jacobi (DEAD AGAIN, GLADIATOR), Ayelet Zurer (MUNICH, VANTAGE POINT).
Tag-line: "In a world gone mad, being insane was just a way to fit in."
Best one-liner: "Who let a dog in here?"

Paul Schrader is quite possibly my favorite filmmaker of all time, and even on those rare occasions when I can't connect with his material (TOUCH, FOREVER MINE), I still have nothing but respect for the man and his movies. ADAM RESURRECTED never quite works, and it's certainly not for lack of trying. I can't help but feel that Schrader himself never connected with the material: written by Noah Stollman, based on the novel by Yoram Kaniuk, and self-distributed by (according to some accounts) hubristic producer Ehud Bleiberg, the film just doesn't 'feel' like a Schrader project, even when placed in context with other films he's directed but not written (AUTO FOCUS, THE COMFORT OF STRANGERS). I feel like the producers wanted ONE FLEW OVER THE SCHINDLER'S LIST, and Schrader probably wanted something closer to ISRAELI GIGOLO. Consequently, the film has a forced weight to it that usually rings false- you can have crying, screaming, breast-beating, crazies, and men barking like dogs; but if it's not in service to a story that carries real, passionate, connected poignancy, it's going to fall flat. One of the biggest cracks in the foundation here is Jeff Goldblum. I love Goldblum.

I wanted to believe that he was this character, but he simply couldn't sell it to me. On the surface, you could say that the problem was the German accent, which seemed to come and go with no real consistency, but the deeper problem was that the performance was based on affectation. There are many ways to tell a story from the point-of-view of a deeply disturbed individual. Look at Schrader's TAXI DRIVER, ROLLING THUNDER, or AUTO FOCUS. We delve deeply into the protagonist's minds, and emerge with not absolution, but an understanding of their lives, their motivations. Here, we just turn crazy up to eleven, and let it ride out. More like Nic Cage in VAMPIRE'S KISS or THE WICKER MAN than Devane in ROLLING THUNDER. And the asylum inmates are just terrible...terrible. Painful to watch. Time to get a new casting director. The silver lining here is clearly Willem Dafoe, as if we required more evidence that he has never delivered a poor performance. From his first appearance as a meek audience member at the CABARET-inspired Weimar venue

to his vile (but oddly pathetic) Nazi Commandant,

he's sharp, occasionally funny, often terrifying, and completely in the moment. I really wish I could say the same for the rest of the film. To see a film about human debasement in a similar vein but with genuine poignancy, check out Lina Wertmüller's SEVEN BEAUTIES.

-Sean Gill

Film Review: ST. IVES (1976, J. Lee Thompson)

Stars: 4 of 5.
Running Time: 94 minutes.
Notable Cast or Crew: Charles Bronson, Jeff Goldblum, Robert Englund, Maximilian Schell, John Houseman, Jacqueline Bisset, Harry Guardino, Elisha Cook, Jr. Music by Lalo Schifrin.
Tag-lines: "He's clean. He's mean. He's the go-between."
Best one-liner: "What are the odds in the Rams-Dallas game?"

Raymond St. Ives. Layabout, writer, gambler, and all-around classy dude.

Bronson could totally host 'Masterpiece Theater.'

Tagline says "He's clean, he's mean, he's the go-between." He sleeps in late and (on the poster at least) lights his pipe with $100 bills. Not sure why he does that, since he suffers from debilitating financial difficulties. In fact, he's so behind on his bills, up to his ears in gambling debt, and is suffering writer's block, he decides to act as the bagman for some shady characters who are enduring some Raymond Chandler-esque blackmail.

A grown man sleeping in till noon- what is the world coming to.

Well, Charles Bronson is Raymond St. Ives, and the film's a well-made Noir in the same vein as the Bob Mitchum Marlowe movies that popped up around the same time. Of course it's the type of (70's) noir that's chock full of wood paneling, olive green carpet, and light brown neckties. It's also Bronson's first of 9 collaborations with director J. Lee Thompson (CAPE FEAR, DEATH WISH 4).

Bronson is in top form.

Even seven Bronsons are not enough.

He gets tossed down an elevator shaft by Jeff Goldblum and Robert "Freddy Krueger" Englund, climbs back up, and kicks their asses. At one point, Bronson has to swallow his pride and feign OCD in order to secure the proper restroom stall for a hand-off. Must've been rough on him. The supporting cast is solid: Maxmilian Schell is a zany German psychiatrist; John Houseman channels Sydney Greenstreet; and Jacqueline Bisset's the neo-femme fatale. Lalo Schifrin provides a score that's more than reminiscent of his work on DIRTY HARRY. And a man gets thrown from the window of a high-rise, which leads me to wonder if that's written into Bronson's contract.

It happens in nearly every Bronson movie (STONE KILLER, DEATH WISH 2,3,&4, etc., etc.)- maybe Charlie just loved the sight of dummies spiraling to their doom. Or maybe I'm crazy. Annnyway, it all ends on an awkward freeze frame punchline, then cuts to ANOTHER freeze frame, this one of Bronson eerily smiling. Nicely done, St. Ives. Splendid. Four stars.

-Sean Gill

Film Review: DEATH WISH (1974, Michael Winner)

Stars: 5 of 5. Running Time: 93 minutes. Notable Cast or Crew: Charles Bronson (ONCE UPON A TIME IN THE WEST, RIDER ON THE RAIN, MR. MAJESTYK, HARD TIMES), Hope Lange (BLUE VELVET, PEYTON PLACE, NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET 2), Vincent Gardenia (THE HUSTLER, 80's LITTLE SHOP OF HORRORS), William Redfield (Dale in ONE FLEW OVER THE CUCKOO'S NEST), Jeff Goldblum, music by Herbie Hancock. Tag-lines: "Vigilante, city style -Judge, Jury, and Executioner." Best one-liner: "I'm listening to the weather report - why haven't you found my dog - he's vital to my income - he paints such marvelous pictures with his paws!" Best anecdote: After shooting wrapped on THE STONE KILLER, Bronson and Winner wanted to collaborate again, and discussed future projects. "What do we do next?" asked Bronson. "The best script I've got is DEATH WISH. It's about a man whose wife and daughter are mugged and he goes out and shoots muggers," said Winner. "I'd like to do that," Bronson said. "The film?" inquired Winner. Bronson replied, "No . . . shoot muggers."


"Man, check out that mild-mannered little architect."

"Look at 'im. He can hardly lift those groceries. C'mon guys, I'm gonna mug 'im."


I guess, in a way, that's the fundamental flaw of this picture––the idea that anyone would think they could take on Charles Bronson, groceries or no.

Though supposedly an Italian once tried it, attempting to rob him at gunpoint. Bronson later said of the incident, "I am not a Casper Milquetoast. A guy in broken English asked me for money. I said, 'You give ME money.' He turned around and walked away." Regardless of that story's veracity, or the strength of the concept (that hoodlums would try to mug Bronson), this is an entertaining time at the movies... with Spillane-style fascist-apologetic undertones. Here's some actual dialogue:

"Oh Christ, you are such a bleeding-heart liberal, Paul."
–"My heart bleeds a little for the underprivileged, yes."
"The underprivileged are beating our goddamned brains out. You know what I say? Stick them in concentration camps, that's what I say."

Ummm... WHUTTTTTT?! Somehow its reactionary political leanings are reconciled by the fact that there's so much cathartic fun to be had watching Bronson do his thing. No one can deny that. Combine that with a super-young Jeff Goldblum as Freak #1 (see him also menace Bronson in ST. IVES), Vincent Gardenia in the now-cliched role of 'cop begrudgingly impressed by vigilante,' and a groovin' soundtrack by Herbie Hancock, and you've got yourself a bona fide classic. Followed by FOUR sequels of increasingly deranged (Cannon Films) quality and literally thousands of rip-offs (MS. 45 probably being the best), DEATH WISH's punch-in-the-guts impact is undeniable

Tangent: And the final scene reveals that a 'forefinger and thumb gun' battle between Bronson and Eastwood would be extremely satisfying:

Look at that smile. The wink! You want it? You got it!


Conversely, Clint takes no pleasure from this.


But hey, now we're gettin' classy, too! I don't think Bronson can top that.


Whoa! I have been rendered speechless. My mind races with the possibilities of a 'Charles Bronson Album.' What if Bronson and Eastwood had recorded 'Beers to You' together, instead of Ray Charles and Eastwood? So many unanswered questions. I'm not sure I can declare a winner at this point. Stay tuned.

COMING SOON: Reviews of DEATH WISHES 2-5. And more on the Bronson/Eastwood rivalry.