Film Review: THE LAST SHARK (1981, Enzo G. Castellari)

Stars: 4 of 5.
Running Time: 88 minutes.
Notable Cast or Crew: Vic Morrow (Jennifer Jason Leigh's dad, 1990: BRONX WARRIORS, THE TWILIGHT ZONE MOVIE), James Franciscus (Dario Argento's THE CAT O' NINE TAILS), De Angelis (they did the music for a ton of third-rate Spaghettis, and a lot of Enzo Castellari movies like KEOMA and THE BIG RACKET).
Tag-lines: " A quiet, restful summer in the lazy coastal town of Port Harbor is abruptly about to end."
Best one-liner(s): See review!

Wow. Where do I begin? Enzo G. Castellari is one of the lesser known Italian genre directors of the 70's and 80's. Expect that to change, at least somewhat, when Tarantino rolls out his reimagining of Castellari's INGLORIOUS BASTARDS (1978) this summer. Castellari is not on par with Mario Bava or Dario Argento, but he's totally on par with Lucio Fulci or Lamberto Bava, and is definitely better than the likes of Bruno Mattei or Michele Soavi, all of whom are probably better known than Castellari. Castellari specialized in COMPLETE rip-offs. Rip-offs, of course, re-routed and re-wired through his ridiculous Italian brain. 1990: BRONX WARRIORS is THE WARRIORS meets ESCAPE FROM NEW YORK in a dingy Italian gay bar. INGLORIOUS BASTARDS is THE DIRTY DOZEN, but sleazier. And THE LAST SHARK is JAWS... if JAWS was a nonsensical Castellari-directed giallo. All that's missing is the shark wearing black gloves and frantically whispering. And so I feel that THE LAST SHARK got its start on one balmy Italian night- Enzo probably just got back from the movies, where he had watched JAWS. He draws a bath, lights some candles, and gets in the tub. While in the tub, he probably drinks an entire bottle of Campari. Then he starts playing with a piece of styrofoam and a toy boat, and THE LAST SHARK is born. But I can show you better than I can tell you. Here's a little taste:

Reaction shots? Check. An Italian woman screaming? Check. Italo Horror Disco? Check. Stock footage? Check. Ridiculous slo-mo? Check. Head-scratching character choices? Check and check. Lemme cut straight to the chase- 10 reasons why THE LAST SHARK is awesome and Enzo G. Castellari deserves our praise:

#10.

Cause this guy is clearly an American, old money, New England politician, and NOT an Italian.

#9.

Because it accurately depicts summer in New England. Confederate flags are waved around in celebration of America's favorite sport: Windjammin'.

That is, windsurfing whilst jammin' to sweet Italo Disco.

#8.

Because Vic Morrow doesn't overdo it.

#7.


Because the terror of shark victims and special effects of their demises are essential to building palpable atmosphere.

#6. Because Enzo stumbled upon the greatest blunder of JAWS and was able to correct it. Why waste all that time building up character and the threat the shark presents, when you can jump right to Quint (Robert Shaw)? THE LAST SHARK does it right, and we have Quint, I mean Vic Morrow, and his hunt for the shark at centerstage by the five-minute mark. (We needed the first five minutes for a windjammin' montage.)

#5. Because it contains the hard-hitting media critique frequently present in these kinds of movies. During a fatal shark attack, a sleazy TV producer says to his cameraman "Keep that camera rolling! You get some good shots of that shark and I'll buy you a lobster dinner!" And what do you suppose the odds are, that after the shark is defeated, the sleazy TV producer says to our surviving heroes "Is there anything you'd like to say on camera? What was it like defeating the shark?," and then our hero punches him out? Yeah. The odds of that happening are very high, because it does happen.

#4. One-liners that don't make sense. I don't think anything can beat 1990: BRONX WARRIORS in this category, but THE LAST SHARK comes close. Here's a few:

Faux-Quint's ultimatum at the town-hall meeting: "You have two choices. One. Get out of his way. The other is to hold your ground, with fire, and try to kill him, because you do not have another choice!"

The stuffy politician who wants to keep the beaches open for windjammin', no matter what: "No damn shark's gonna screw up a year of work and planning!"

"One thing's for sure- it wasn't a floating chainsaw!"

The out of town showboat: "Don't worry, it's just a fish." (He gets his later, of course.)

#3.


#2. So Enzo heard everybody was impressed by the 'Zombie versus Shark" scene in Lucio Fulci's ZOMBIE. How do you outdo "Zombie versus Shark?" Try "Shark versus Helicopter." I wish I could get a better picture of this, but it's purposefully obscured by the filmmakers so you don't notice it's a toy.


#1.

Because we learn what happens when a shark appears suddenly underneath a boat.

And then it all ends with some thoughtful, Eurotrash piano music. Bravo, Enzo!

-Sean Gill

Film Review: THE NAME OF THE ROSE (1986, Jean-Jacques Annaud)

Stars: 5 of 5.
Running Time: 130 minutes.
Notable Cast or Crew: Sean Connery, Christian Slater, F. Murray Abraham, Ron Perlman (HELLBOY), Feodor Chaliapin, Jr. (INFERO), William Hickey (WISE BLOOD, PINK CADILLAC, REMO WILLIAMS), Vernon Dobtcheff (the Nazi butler in INDIANA JONES AND THE LAST CRUSADE), Elya Baskin (AIR FORCE ONE, SPIDERMAN 2), Michael Lonsdale (THE PHANTOM OF LIBERTY, THE LAST MISTRESS), Urs Althaus (NEW YORK RIPPER, WARBUS).
Tag-lines: "Who, in the name of God, is getting away with murder?"
Best one-liner(s): "My dear Adso, we must not allow ourselves to be influenced by irrational rumors of the Antichrist, hmm? Let us instead exercise our brains and try to solve this tantalizing conundrum."

A brilliant, moving tale of the import of knowledge and the power of repression. Sean Connery as the learned monk William of Baskerville is absolute perfection, beginning a string of fantastic late 80's performances culminating in THE UNTOUCHABLES, THE HUNT FOR RED OCTOBER, and INDIANA JONES AND THE LAST CRUSADE. The only times I've seen him better are possibly THE HILL or THE MAN WHO WOULD BE KING. Christian Slater plays his young apprentice in one of his earliest roles. The Slater factor is surprisingly low here, mainly because of his uncharacteristically low-key eyebrow performance and the fact that it's really the Sean Connery show.

Slater factor mostly neutralized by restrained use of eyebrows and presence of Sean Connery.

Somehow this international production recalls not only the wonder of vintage (violent) German fairy tales, the exquisitely spun mysteries of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, and the operatic visuals of Sergio Leone (thanks to phenomenal cinematography by Tonino Delli Colli), but also the muted poeticism of classic French cinema. Supposedly Robert De Niro was meant to play William, but was dismissed by director Jean-Jacques Annaud when he insisted on a gratuitous sword-fight sequence. This movie is not a swashbuckler, a 'Gotcha!' mystery, nor a witchcraft exploitation film. It is a languid, thoughtful, and humble work. Annaud even begins the film by respectfully crediting Umberto Eco's work, not even claiming to have made an adaptation, but rather a 'palimpsest.' This film derives power and poignancy from a work where it could have all too easily devolved into groan-mustering mawkishness, and that is a difficult feat, indeed.

Film Review: THE SILENT WORLD (1956, Jacques Cousteau & Louis Malle)

Stars: 4 of 5.
Running Time: 86 minutes.
Notable Cast or Crew: Jacques Cousteau (oceanographer, hero, legend, defender of the environment, filmmaker, and scientist), Louis Malle (AU REVOIR LES ENFANTS, ATLANTIC CITY, MY DINNER WITH ANDRE, THE FIRE WITHIN).
Tag-lines: None.
Best one-liner(s): See review.

Shit the bed! I have been rendered speechless. I don't know whether to laugh or cry. Jacques Cousteau and his cronies (the inspiration for Wes Anderson's far less ludicrous LIFE AQUATIC- from the stilted re-stagings to a musician on board to the bulbous underwater observatory to red woolen caps to island diversions to exactly duplicated camera angles) wander the high seas more in search of shits and giggles than genuine scientific research in this 1956 documentary. A lot of the novelty revolved around the then-new high-tech underwater cameras, but now this film is appallingly hilarious. Need a coral reef sample?- use an axe! Need a census of reef-dwelling fish? Blow the bastards up with TNT!

This is, indeed, really happening.

A hapless dying blowfish, now on land, inflates itself in a panic. Jacques explains that it's a defensive measure against being eaten- 'BUT IT'S NO MATCH FOR DYNAMITE!' (Jacques himself provides a vaguely self-aware, smarmy Herzogian narration throughout.)

Prepare yourself for some surreal fuckin' sights. Like six Frenchmen riding each other's ankles as they hitch a ride on a water scooter. Speaking of hitching rides, ANY time they see a giant turtle or tortoise, the initial reflex is to take it for a free ride.

See a Frenchman weighing down a sea turtle as it struggles to reach the surface and breath! See a Frenchman riding two tortoises like giant, mobile shoes! What's the first thing you think of when you see tortoises? To use them as picnic tables and benches, of course! While on this 'tortoise island,' they encounter a black "island man" who explains the life cycle of the tortoise to them in offensively dubbed pidgin English. "Me think the turtle cry not because of 'de pain...but cause of 'de sorrow."

Later, they make friends with a Grouper they name 'Ulysses,' feeding it scraps of meat, trying to dance with the fish. All I can think of is Herzog, in GRIZZLY MAN, saying "And what haunts me, is that in all the faces of all the bears that Treadwell ever filmed, I discover no kinship, no understanding, no mercy. I see only the overwhelming indifference of nature. To me, there is no such thing as a secret world of the bears. And this blank stare speaks only of a half-bored interest in food." So they 'befriend' the Grouper, who then keeps coming back for food...because they fed it. This pisses off Cousteau and the gang who now dub Ulysses a 'nuisance.' 'Time to put him in jail!' They bring down a shark cage and imprison the Grouper for a spell. As they depart, they release him and wistfully impart 'We'll never forget you, Ulysses!' Indeed.

And the science?! They frequently boast about how great their technology is, mocking a Greek diver using outdated equipment, and then they run one scientific test across film's entirety. What do they do the rest of the time? They dick around like frat boys on vacation. There is one incident in particular that is the perfect example of mankind's folly, and the ability of tragedy and comedy to bleed into one another. Cousteau and his crew are chasing a group of sperm whales, trying to get close and "study" them. Things get off to a good start when they accidentally ram one whale and then one of the crew tries to harpoon another, just for the hell of it. And they're riding these whales' asses, too. "Increase the throttle!" Of course, tragedy strikes. They ran over a baby whale, which is now horrifically lacerated by the engine. Immediately, Jacques blames the whale, saying its 'youthful brashness' was the reason for the tragedy. Of course it's the whale's fault that was run over at top speed. Blood is pouring everywhere; one wouldn't think that a single animal could contain so much blood. The ocean, now crimson, begins to fill with sharks- 30 or 40 of them. Jacques and the team harpoon the dying whale and shoot it in the head to put it out of its misery. The sharks begin to gorge themselves. Jacques and the team immediately spring into action, pulling out the shark cage so that they can film it, Jacques  adding that he 'hopes the cable will hold' for the sake of the cameramen within. Given the scarce amount of the whale left at the finish, I have to imagine that they filmed the feast for several hours. As soon as the cage is out of the water, and they're finished shooting the 'orgy,' the sailors seek righteous revenge against the sharks. They actually say the phrase that they're 'avenging' the baby whale.'
So let me get this straight: they ran over a baby whale because they were dickin' around, the sharks came because they're animals and that is their instinct, they let the sharks eat until they were done filming, and then they murdered the sharks to avenge the whale?  They must harpoon and pull up twenty or thirty sharks out of the water onto the deck, whereupon the crew bludgeons the shit out of them with poles, harpoons, and, my personal favorite, giant axes. Whew. I feel like I'm watching a dozen bulls in a china shop. Why don't we just beam this out into space and let the aliens put us out of our misery?
Alright, guys, four stars for being fuckin' lunatics, and showing me far more about the depths of humanity's ignorance than the depths of the ocean's 'silent world.'

-Sean Gill

Coming Soon: GO-GO KILLERS!

I'm proud to announce that my latest play, GO-GO KILLERS!, is well under way and shall, under the deft direction and imaginative choreography of Rachel Klein, debut in May 2009. In the coming weeks, I shall post a video trailer of the show itself, but the following provides a brief synopsis and primer for the universe in which it takes place:


Presented, for your consideration: Manhattan, 2019. A Warming Catastrophe has parched and scorched and shriveled the outlying lands, isolating the borough- now even more an island than ever before. And not just an island, but a haven; a refuge for the corrupt and avaricious, whose power and wealth has, unbelievably enough, increased exponentially, largely due to the ensuing misfortune. But there is one thing to be feared by these people of unlimited privilege and egregious excess: strapping, violent, calculating go-go girl gang debs, roving the countryside in hordes, their sole purpose and fanatical intent being revenge: to maximize the suffering of the moneyed and well-to-do. Fates, Furies, Sirens, and Gorgons; their very names reflecting the almost mythological justice that they wish to purvey in an era that has none... their very existence has struck such a chord of fear amongst the affluent, that all young women in their presence must be shackled, chained, manacled, and locked up, for fear of brutal reprisal. It is into this world that must go; a world of prosperity, surfeit... and endless uncertainty. The gang known as 'The Furies' (comprised of the assertively resolute Electra, the unrelentingly steely Pandora, the charmingly clueless Godiva, and the newly transformed 'Bloody Mary,' née Marietta), in accordance with orders from their mysterious 'Queen,' is set to embark on a double-kidnapping and murder. Their prizes in tow (the childish, bumbling Eugene and the nefarious, materialistic Nelson), 'The Furies' must contend with rival gangs, internal struggles, and the Old Jersey Desert as they journey to a rendezvous with their exalted Queen. And it is at her retro-futuristic underground lair that the final phase of this epic struggle's endgame shall play out...

-Sean Gill

Film Review: SUSPIRIA (1977, Dario Argento)

Stars: 5 of 5.
Running Time: 98 minutes.
Notable Cast or Crew: Jessica Harper (MINORITY REPORT, SHOCK TREATMENT), Daria Nicolodai (this time working only on the script), Udo Kier (of Fassbinder, Morrissey, von Trier, van Sant...and ARMAGEDDON and BARBED WIRE), Miguel Bose (STAR KNIGHT), Stefania Casini (BLOOD FOR DRACULA-with Udo, 1900), Joan Bennett (BULLDOG DRUMMOND, SCARLET STREET, lots of old Hollywood fare), Alida Valli (INFERNO, SENSO, Golden Globe-nominated performance in THE PAPER MAN in '63, the girl without a face in EYES WITHOUT A FACE, THE THIRD MAN). And a soundtrack by GOBLIN.
Tag-lines: "The Only Thing More Terrifying Than The Last 12 Minutes Of This Film Are The First 92."
Best one-liner(s): "Susie... Sarah... I once read that names which begin with the letter 'S' are the names of SNAKES! Sssss! Ssssss!"

SUSPIRIA. The big one. What most (especially non-Argentophiles) consider to be the man's magnum opus. I'm more of a DEEP RED/TENEBRE man myself, but SUSPIRIA is epochal. It's kinda like if THE CONFORMIST or THE DAMNED were more interested in scaring the shit out of you instead of analyzing the homoerotic undertones of Fascism. Argento has all the cinematic brilliance of a Bertolucci or a Visconti, he just CHOOSES to put all of that creative energy into depicting the artful murders of beautiful women.

One of my favorite things about SUSPIRIA (aside from the fact that the head witch Markos is played by a 90-year-old ex-hooker Dario found on the street) is the fact that it was written to take place in a ballet academy for little girls, aged 10-12. Then, when the censorship-based decision was made to make the students aged 18-25, Dario made zero alterations to the script. And why not? It's a ridiculous child's nightmare played out by adults, and this unnerving quality is what gives it most of its indescribable, dreamlike power. (Dario even insisted that the doorknobs be placed higher than usual so that even the adults would have to reach up to turn them.) Mr. Argento's bold visuals are in full force; I'm not sure I've ever seen a more beautifully lit film. Bright, primary colors have never seemed so macabre. Goblin's moody score is perfect (with some uncredited contributions by a young Philip Glass- listen, and you'll hear them), building an ominous atmosphere of thrumping timpani, electronic twangs, and primal screams of "Witch!"

Truly a masterpiece and Argento's first high-profile international success, which paved the way for more and more of his inspired insanity. Followed by 1980's equally unhinged and visually impressive INFERNO and 2008's ludicrously deranged MOTHER OF TEARS.

SEE ALSO: INFERNO review.
COMING SOON: MOTHER OF TEARS review.

-Sean Gill

Film review: PICKUP ON SOUTH STREET (1953, Sam Fuller)

Stars: 4 of 5.
Running Time: 80 minutes.
Notable Cast or Crew: Richard Widmark (KISS OF DEATH, THE ALAMO, NIGHT AND THE CITY, PANIC IN THE STREETS), Jean Peters (VIVA ZAPATA!, NIAGARA), Thelma Ritter (THE MISFITS, REAR WINDOW, ALL ABOUT EVE), and Richard Kiley (NIGHT GALLERY, PATCH ADAMS?!). Directed by pulp cinema legend Sam Fuller (SHOCK CORRIDOR, WHITE DOG, THE NAKED KISS, THE STEEL HELMET, VERBOTEN).

Tag-lines: " How the law took a chance on a B-girl... and won!"
Best one-liner(s): "You'll always be a two-bit cannon. And when they pick you up in the gutter dead, you're hand'll be in a drunk's pocket." AND "I have to go on making a living so I can die. But even a fancy funeral ain't worth waiting for if I've gotta do business with crumbs like you."

PICKUP ON SOUTH STREET is almost handled like a science experiment. Sam Fuller delights in putting large doses of humanity's lower depths and a splash of Red paranoia into that Petri dish that is Manhattan, then sloshing it around and watching the ensuing verbal barbs, squealing, slapping, unexpected romance, and outright mayhem. However, like another great scientist of cinema, Werner Herzog, Mr. Fuller was also a connoisseur and devotee of humankind's idiosyncrasies. The love he puts into his characters makes them real: Skip's East River shack and unconventional method of keeping his beers cold, the tiny gestures and costume elements, Lightning Louie's use of chopsticks- its the kind of swift attention to detail that perfectly illustrates Fuller's background as a newspaperman. Fuller also had a background as a military man, which can be seen in how he treats film as a battleground of clashing characters, emotions, dialogue, and action (a sentiment which he famously intoned in PIERROT LE FOU). And Fuller also had a background as a sonofabitch, which can clearly be seen in scenes like when Richard Widmark finds Jean Peters in his shack, punches her out, revives her by pouring cold beer on her head, and then makes out with her thirty seconds later.


Fuller was another in the pantheon (that included Hawks, Huston, Peckinpah, and others) who knew how to weave a fantastic fast-paced narrative, how to build an ensemble of well-developed characters, when to use violence and when not to, when to cave in on studio demands and when not to, and overall, plainly, how to DIRECT.

-Sean Gill

Film Review: THE WRESTLER (2008, Darren Aronofsky)

Stars: 4 of 5.
Running Time: 115 minutes.
Notable Cast or Crew: Mickey Rourke, Marisa Tomei, Judah Friedlander, Bruce Springsteen, Mark Margolis, Dylan Summers, Ernest Miller.
Tag-lines: "Love. Pain. Glory."
Best exchange: "Goddamn they don't make em' like they used to." –"Fuckin' 80's man, best shit ever!" "Bet'chr ass man, Guns N' Roses! Rules." –"Crue!" "Yeah!" –"Def Lep!" "Then that Cobain pussy had to come around & ruin it all." –"Like there's something wrong, why not just have a good time?" "I'll tell you somethin', I hate the fuckin' 90's."

Solid, solid, solid movie, and the best wrestling flick since Jules Dassin's NIGHT AND THE CITY. It's like HELL COMES TO FROGTOWN directed by the Dardenne Brothers and starring Mickey Rourke as Dog the Bounty Hunter. Well, not exactly, but you see my point. It's a character study of washed-up Randy 'the Ram' Robinson, and a rumination on outsider performance art (from smashing folding chairs on dudes' heads at elementary schools to stripping in a sleazy Jersey bar). In its simple presentation and love for marginalized characters, it would make for a great recession double feature with FROZEN RIVER. And both films manage to find hilarity (as well as soul-crushing misery) amid the carnage. Take, for example, Randy's pre-wrestling routine: a sleazier version of say, Fosse's in ALL THAT JAZZ. With Randy, it's the tanning salon, steroid injections, hair bleaching, and prepping neon-green spandex. Rourke deserves his myriad accolades, as does Marisa Tomei, who pulls off 'aging Jersey stripper' (though perhaps it's the glittery eyeshadow that pushes her over the edge). The masochistic "Necro Butcher" plays himself in a memorable sequence, too.

The wrestling scenes themselves are the centerpiece of the film, and while they advance plot and character, they are also ridiculously visceral, maybe the most intense scenes of their kind I've seen since the no-holds-barred naked shower room brawl in EASTERN PROMISES.

(Side note: Why does everyone keep saying this is Rourke's comeback? They said it about THE RAINMAKER in '97, they said it about ONCE UPON A TIME IN MEXICO in '03, and they said it about SIN CITY in '05, which was #1 at the box office its opening weekend. Now they're saying it about THE WRESTLER in '08, which is classic media manipulation designed to create an underdog narrative and win Oscars. Fortunately, the film deserves them on its own merits.)


Addendum, September 2009: I just saw John Huston's FAT CITY, and I gotta say that THE WRESTLER is practically a straight-up remake (and that FAT CITY is the better film of the two). Now, I'm not gonna say that seeing FAT CITY diminishes the impact of THE WRESTLER... but, ya know what, it kinda does. See FAT CITY immediately.

Film Review: THUNDER ROAD (1958, Arthur Ripley)

Stars: 4 of 5.
Running Time: 92 minutes.
Notable Cast or Crew: Robert Mitchum, James Mitchum, Gene Berry (WAR OF THE WORLDS, FORTY GUNS), Peter Breck (MAVERICK), Jacques Aubuchon (THE LOVE GOD?, THE SHAGGY DOG), Sandra Knight (THE TERROR).
Tag-lines: " Raw And Rough As Today's Billion-Dollar Whiskey War!"
Best one-liner(s): "She's trying to make a living. If you want to bray, go find yourself a barnyard."

"Now let me tell the story/I can tell it all/ About the mountain boy who ran illegal alcohol/ His daddy made the whiskey, son, he drove the load/ When his engine roared/ They called the highway thunder road." It's MOONSHINE MOUNTAIN meets OUT OF THE PAST; a Hillbilly Noir, if you will. Mitchum wrote and stars in it, and it inspired the hit song "The Ballad of Thunder Road," sung by Mitchum, and quoted at the start of this review. "The Ballad of Thunder Road" with Mitchum singing unfortunately does not appear in the film, contrary to popular belief, just the instrumental version. But it's a damn fine song, and I encourage everyone to purchase the essential CD "Robert Mitchum, That Man, Sings!" which includes some of his greatest Rockabilly and even Calypso hits.

'Baby, I don't care if you buy my album or not; I'm still drinking this entire bottle of gin.'

Back to the matter at hand, however, 'Ole Rumple Eyes' is back to his bored badass routine, and let me tell you, it never gets old. Watch Mitchum crumple a mobster's hat cause he can. Watch Mitchum play older brother to his real life son, James, who really is the spittin' image of his old man.

Mitchum's kid: looks exactly like Mitchum.

Watch Mitchum drive cars real fast, cars filled to the brim with white lightnin' and screamin' down the highway at speeds no man was meant to travel. This movie was key for Mitchum because it launched the second half of his career; after a series of lackluster financial returns and getting fired from the set of BLOOD ALLEY because of his constant pranks (including throwing the transportation manager into San Francisco Bay), Mitchum's career was in jeopardy, and the runaway success of THUNDER ROAD cemented his star status for the many years to come.


Mitchum truly doesn't give a shit.

This is the man, who despite his jingoistic support of the Vietnam War and desire to nuke 'em, STILL was voted "coolest celebrity" in a teen poll of 1968. So I tip my hat to you, Bob Mitchum. I don't even care if you crumple it.

-Sean Gill