Film Review: THE DARK CRYSTAL (1982, Jim Henson & Frank Oz)

Stars: 5 of 5.
Running Time: 93 minutes.
Notable Cast or Crew: Jim Henson, Frank Oz, Kathryn Mullen (MUPPET SHOW regular, Mokey Fraggle on FRAGGLE ROCK), Dave Goelz (Gonzo on THE MUPPET SHOW), music by Trevor Jones (EXCALIBUR, LABYRINTH, RUNAWAY TRAIN), design by Brian Froud (LABYRINTH).
Tag-lines: "Another World, Another Time... In the Age of Wonder. "

True creativity, for me, is and has always been the ability to build something out of nothing- with your hands. THE DARK CRYSTAL is the apex of Jim Henson and designer Brian Froud's interminable artistry (they also collaborated on LABYRINTH), and here, they've built a timeless universe of breathtaking spectacle, exotic unfamiliarity, fanciful magic, ancient mysticism, exacting detail, and uncompromising depth. They are so confident (and deservedly so!) in their vision, that they've chosen to dispense with humans altogether, relegating them to puppeteering and vocal duties. There's no CGI here, no poorly rendered computer animations fabricated by some lazy skeeze at his PC. Everything's been rigorously fashioned and laboriously crafted from the ground up.

While it's been designed for children to grasp, this is by no means merely a children's film. Using the familiar framework of the "quest" mythos, there's still philosophical complexity, palpable trauma, and visceral evil.

Certain images possess a real potency, and stand out from the others: the dying Skeksis Emperor literally crumbling away in mid-screech as his vile, potential successors circle like vultures; the charming, faithful, lovable Fizzgig and his impossibly gaping maw;

the genius matte paintings and meticulously sculpted forests that spare no detail from the tiniest of insects to the largest of trees to creatures I cannot even begin to describe. There is a certain REALness to the entirety of the proceedings because the screen is full of objects, animals, and characters that ARE real- someone could hold and manipulate them by hand or by string or by lever, and this is what gives them the breath of life. And with that breath, this film exhales upon the viewer the vivacity, exuberance, and sincerity that were poured into it by its creators. So eff you, CGI. You can toss my motherlovin' salad. Five stars.

-Sean Gill

Film Review: THE SHOOTIST (1976, Don Siegel)

Stars: 5 of 5.
Running Time: 100 minutes.
Notable Cast or Crew: John Wayne, Ron Howard, Jimmy Stewart, Lauren Bacall, John Carradine, Scatman Crothers, Richard Boone (HAVE GUN, WILL TRAVEL).
Tag-lines: "He's got to face a gunfight once more to live up to his legend once more. To win just one more time.
Best one-liner: "Put it in a nutshell? You couldn't put it in a barrel without a bottom. You're the longest winded bastard I've ever known."

Art imitates death. Portrait of an aging gunfighter: J.B. Books. A shootist. A legend. Diagnosed with a cancer, eating him alive from within. The laundanum offers less and less respite each day. Yet, not content to let him die on his own terms, everyone wants to carve out one final piece before he's in the grave. And we're not simply talking about vengeful outlaws who want one last shot at his hide- we're talking an undertaker who wants to sell tickets to the funeral (with a cameo by John Carradine), an old flame who wants a book deal, a crooked newspaperman with an agenda, an endless parade of yahoos who want the last 'fill-in-the-blank' J.B. Books ever used/owned/had. It's the same pack of scavengers who one hundred years later operates tabloids, Lifetime movies, and the like. And, hell, John Waters has always said that the final indignity suffered by the famous is the mortician having sex with your corpse...

Well, regardless, Mr. Books is played by Marion Robert Morrison, better known to the public as one 'John Wayne.' A man similarly diagnosed with cancer, and undoubtedly no stranger to the hordes of ragpickers primed to take away one last piece of the legend for themselves. But it's not an entirely morbid universe that Don Siegel (DIRTY HARRY, THE BEGUILED, THE KILLERS) creates here.

As a kindly widow and her naive son (Lauren Bacall and Ron Howard) have excellent chemistry with Wayne and greatly aid the film in building a real emotional framework. Jimmy Stewart appears in a near-cameo role (which provides a great A MAN WHO SHOT LIBERTY VALANCE reference), and is, as always, sweetly captivating, but here he appears so feeble and hard-of-hearing that it's vaguely distressing to watch (which I suppose helps the film's aims).

Like so many Westerns, it all ends on a gunfight, but the stakes are so high and the reality so heightened, that the final scenes (and shots) truly resonate long after the film has ended.
A great last act and a fitting swansong for The Duke. Five stars.

-Sean Gill

Fangoria Article on HOUND!

A Fangoria interview with director Rachel Klein and John Patrick Bray on their new show, HOUND, which will feature sound design by yours truly. I and GO-GO KILLERS! are given mentions as well. Original article can be found HERE.

Film Review: THE BLOB (1988, Chuck Russell)

Stars: 4 of 5.
Running Time: 95 minutes.
Notable Cast or Crew: Director Chuck Russell (ERASER, NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET 3: DREAM WARRIORS), Candy Clark, Kevin Dillon, Jeffrey DeMunn (THE GREEN MILE, THE MIST, BURN AFTER READING), Bill Moseley, Jack Nance (ERASERHEAD, BLUE VELVET, TWIN PEAKS), Art LaFleur (FIELD OF DREAMS, COBRA), Donovan Leitch, Shawnee Smith (SAW, THE ISLAND), shot by Mark Irwin (VIDEODROME, SCANNERS, Wes Craven's NEW NIGHTMARE), and cast by Johanna Ray (casting director for David Lynch (1986-Present), Quentin Tarantino (1996-Present), COOL AS ICE, SHOWGIRLS, and GHOULIES),.
Tag-line: "Scream now, while there's still room to breathe."
Best one-liner: "I feel like the one-legged man in an ass kicking contest."

"The Blob's not scary. It's just red Jell-o." SCCHLERRRRP! Yeah, asscheek, you just got absorbed by the Blob. The Blob IS scary. How many times do I have to say this? It has no sense of reason. I guess you can say that about a lot of horror monsters, but the Blob is completely inscrutable. You can't even say with certainty that hunger is its motivation. Does it think? Is it even alive? Well, you don't really have time to tackle these questions when the Blob is coming. Or the Glob. Yeah, the original 50's title was THE GLOB THAT GIRDLED THE GLOBE, which is completely awesome.

Anyway, the 80's saw some of the most successful horror/sci-fi remakes ever, many of the films even eclipsing the originals (THE FLY, THE THING, CAT PEOPLE). Now, the original BLOB can't be touched, but this comes damn close. A lot of that's due to Frank Darabont's writing. He's a man (THE MIST, THE SHAWSHANK REDEMPTION, screenplay for NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET 3) who knows how to do creature features right.

The set-up's perfect- we get loads of well-done, condensed character development AND the Blob in the first 20 minutes; we have complete unpredictability in terms of Blob victims; there's gruesome, unnerving, Cronenbergian FX; and there are some definite emotional stakes. We got the zany Candy Clark, a cameo by Jack "Eraserhead" Nance, the underrated Jeffrey DeMunn, singer Donavan's son as an all-American jock, a bit part by Bill Moseley, and a totally be-mulleted Kevin Dillon.

And it all takes place in a 50's meets 80's Anytown, USA that has a surprisingly evocative flavor to it that's very TWILIGHT ZONE-y. It's got a very successful mildly Lovecraftian feel to it as well. I was really shocked at how well-done this film is. And the ending, which I shan't reveal here, is brilliantly set up, and I dare say gleefully nihilistic. Four stars.

-Sean Gill

ESCAPE FROM STATEN ISLAND screenings tonight and tomorrow!

"Picture, if you will, a young man waking up on a ship with no recollection of how he got there, or even to where he's traveling. This man is no stranger to the hangover. The black out. The bad trip. But this man is about to experience something he IS a stranger to, he will endure a crippling sense of déjà vu that will, like the worst typhoons or maelströms, show no sign of slackening. I urge you to enter this world and find out if it is indeed possible to ESCAPE FROM STATEN ISLAND."

Starring the powerhouse crew of Chris Cipriano, Jillaine Gill, and Stevesie Basedow, this fine film will be screening on the evenings of June 5 and June 6 at 9PM, and I will be present for a Q&A afterward on both nights. Tickets are $10, and are available HERE.

Tonight's screening is at the College of Staten Island's Williamson Theater, and the Saturday screening is at the Lecture Hall Theater. The campus block's address is 2800 Victory Boulevard, Staten Island, NY 10314. It is reachable by car, by bus, and by Ferry Transfer to the Staten Island Railroad.

Excerpts from the film will be screening all month on the Staten Island ferry as part of the "Ferry Frenzy" event, which is fitting, as a large portion of the film is set on that lumbering orange vessel.

Film Review: SAVAGE STREETS (1984, Danny Steinmann)

Stars: 3 of 5.
Running Time: 93 minutes.
Notable Cast or Crew: Linda Blair, John Vernon, Linnea Quigley (RETURN OF THE LIVING DEAD, NIGHT OF THE DEMONS, NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET 4), Robert Dryer (CYBORG 2, THE BORROWER).
Tag-lines: "An eye for an eye."
Best one-liner: "Welcome home... ASSHOLES!"

I generally go in to a Linda Blair flick intending to yuck it up at her lack of talent and the fact she, at 24, looks like an odd middle-aged woman with a baby's face, but, invariably, I end up feeling kind of bad about it. See ROLLER BOOGIE.

Now, SAVAGE STREETS is the kind of 80's revenge flick that certainly hits all the right notes, but doesn't hit them loudly, obnoxiously, laughably, bafflingly, or Italian-ly enough to become a bona fide trash classic. There's a lot of good stuff, though: John Vernon as the trash-talking a-hole principal ("Go fuck an iceberg!"),

Linda Blair cackling with a crossbow and swiggin' peach brandy, extreme close-ups on crotch grabs, gang gals voraciously devouring ice cream, and the exchange: "Too bad you're not double-jointed!" -"Why?" "Because if it were, you'd be able to bend over and kiss your ass goodbye!"


There's a lot of great unanswered questions, too, like: Where did Linda Blair get bear traps?; If the gangs have no problem murdering and raping and axing people, why do they show up to class?; Why do Linda and her friends yell for her DEAF sister when they can't find her?; Why are there bizarre homages paid to GREASE?; and After all of the mayhem, destruction, crossbows, explosions, murders, and whatnot do the cops show up only at THE END? Ordinarily, a top-notch flick of this genre, like SWITCHBLADE SISTERS or CLASS OF 1984, would take those questions and commence shoving them up your ass, but here, in SAVAGE STREETS, they sort of linger in the air like the rotten leftovers of ROLLER BOOGIE and EXORCIST II.

And, I'm sorry, when your director's greatest credit is FRIDAY THE 13TH V: A NEW BEGINNING (for the non die-hards, yeah, that's the Jason movie WITHOUT JASON)... well, nevermind. I have no follow-up. I guess I just wanted to get that out there. There shoulda been more John Vernon, though, so, yeah. Three stars.

-Sean Gill

Film Review: DIRTY HARRY (1971, Don Siegel)

Stars: 5 of 5.
Running Time: 102 minutes.
Notable Cast or Crew: Clint Eastwood, Andy Robinson, John Vernon, John Mitchum, Harry Guardino, John Milius (uncredited screenplay contributions), and a Lalo Schifrin score.
Tag-lines: "You don't assign him to murder cases, You just turn him loose."
Best one-liner: "Stupid kid! Come on, sing everyone! Sing, or I'll go home and kill all your mommies, sing, sing!"

"For $29.50, let it hurt." Of all the directorial "father" figures that molded Clint Eastwood into the legend he is today, I would say that Don Siegel had the greatest impact. Their collaborations (COOGAN'S BLUFF, THE BEGUILED, ESCAPE FROM ALCATRAZ, etc.) embodied a certain counter counter-culture sensibility that sometimes flirted with fascism, but shouldn't be confused for it. Instead, the films are complex dissections of the "man of values" in a world which has none, with our hero gradually realizing that his supposed values systems are in fact shadowy and undefined, and aww, who the hell cares anymore, let's shoot some people.

But then there's no satisfaction from that, either. So, call it what you will, but I think our leather elbow-padded, sweet sunglasses-wearing, constantly squinting, ever-sneering hero perpetually sits in judgment of society- ALL society- from the rich stuffed-shirts to his fellow cops to the hippies.

Plenty of extremes are presented to show you what Harry's not: the skeezy politico mayor (John Vernon), the homicidal racist homophobe Scorpio (Andy Robinson), the by-the-book cops and office drones, street thugs, and innocent victims. But, despite the nihilistic undertones, DIRTY HARRY is hilarious: "Do it at home!" he harshly intones to a young man cruisin' in the park, "Go on out and get some air, fatso!" he growls at Bob Mitchum's overweight brother (and that seriously takes some guts to offend a Mitchum- I guess that means you think you can take on Bob...and maybe Clint can!). And every Siegel flick has at least one amazingly head-scratching moment that fails to immediately sink in. HARRY's is when, in the middle of a crucial stakeout, his binoculars roam across a hippie's apartment, hosting some kind of ridiculous threesome. Instead of the sneer of derision we expect, Harry whispers to himself, "You owe it to yourself to live a little, Harry." WHUTTTT?! Bravo, Harry. Here's five stars- even though I know you'll just throw 'em in the river.

-Sean Gill

Film Review: THE STUFF (1985, Larry Cohen)

Stars: 5 of 5.
Running Time: 93 minutes.
Notable Cast or Crew: Michael Moriarty, Danny Aiello, Garrett Morris, Paul Sorvino
Tag-lines: "Are you eating it ...or is it eating you?"
Best one-liner: "The yellow sons of bitches, they took their own lives! Commie bastards, you cheated me!"

"The name's Mo Rutherford. They call me that 'cause when people give me money, I always want mo'." Mo is played by a wise-cracking ("No one is as dumb as I appear to be"), Southern accented, method-acting, yellow-jumpsuit-wearing powerhouse, Michael Moriarty.


"Hit the juice!"

Whatever he's in, he's going to be effin' amazing. And when he teams up with Larry Cohen, part B-horror maestro and part channeler of classic genre Hollywood (Hawks, Fuller, etc.), the results are never short of satisfying. THE STUFF is a Reaganized, consumerized, 80's update of THE BLOB, with poster art that scarred a generation of susceptible children.

From its low-key opening scene depicting the arctic discovery of 'the Stuff' to the hardcore military shitstorm at the finish, it's silly as all hell, but as soon as you laugh too hard and you're caught unawares, it swats you in the nuts with the stick that is cogent social commentary. Cohen's commentary has always been a little less subtle than, say, George Romero's, but when immersed in the madness that is of one of his films, it certainly doesn't matter. With SNL's Garrett Morris as a Famous Amos stand-in cookie magnate, Paul Sorvino as a jingoistic, racist army Colonel, and Danny Aiello as a victim of 'the Stuff,' Moriarty and Cohen are well supported. Five foamy, creamy white scrumptious stars.

"You're supposed to EAT IT, that's all! You eat it and eat as much of it as you can and you KEEP eating it!"

-Sean Gill