Film Review: VISITING HOURS (1982, Jean-Claude Lord)

Stars: 4 of 5.
Running Time: minutes.
Notable Cast or Crew: Writer Brian Taggert (OF UNKNOWN ORIGIN, POLTERGEIST III). Director Jean-Claude Lord (THE VINDICATOR, EDDIE AND THE CRUISERS II: EDDIE LIVES!). Producer Pierre David (SCANNERS, VIDEODROME). Starring Michael Ironside (EXTREME PREJUDICE, TOTAL RECALL), Lee Grant (SHAMPOO, MULHOLLAND DR., DAMIEN: OMEN II), William Shatner.
Tag-lines: "There is no known cure for...MURDER!”
Best one-liner: "God, you blast them all: blacks, Jews, Mexicans..." (written by Ironside's Joe the Plumber-esque madman)

Now there's a lot of wingnut talk these days about socialized medicine being a plot to kill old people.

Well, allow me let you all in on a little secret: MICHAEL IRONSIDE is the plot to kill old people. Or young people. Or whoever the hell gets in his way. Mostly women. And there's a good chance he'll be naked (save for some of your makeup and jewelry) when he does the deed.

Somewhere, Freddy Krueger just shit his pants.

With this production by Pierre David (Cronenberg’s early producer), we've got a prime entry in the 'medical horror' subgenre (BODY PARTS, TRAUMA, DEAD RINGERS). VISITING HOURS is a feminist horror flick, and, unlike many films that mistakenly receive that classification, it's not just because it has a female protagonist. Our heroine, Lee Grant, is a news reporter waging a one-woman battle over a miscarriage of justice involving a battered wife striking back.

She's also dating her yogurt-eating, lackey producer William Shatner.

The media coverage attracts the attention of nutballs misogynist Ironside. Now, WITHOUT Ironside, this would be a semi-poorly-paced, semi-original, but semi-mediocre slasher. WITH Ironside, it's a tour-de-force. The man is 'shit the bed' scary.


MICHAEL IRONSIDE WILL FOLLOW YOU HOME IN HIS CAR


MICHAEL IRONSIDE NOW KNOWS WHERE YOU LIVE

Movies like this and SCANNERS cemented his status as a man who can play 'dog-eating roles,' which, to quote the man himself, are roles where the director says "We need somebody to bite a dog in this scene– let's call Ironside."

SEE: Chick-magnet Ironside cruisin’ at a diner!



WATCH: Ironside euthanize without consent or paperwork!
GAZE: upon Ironside in a menacing pleather tank top!

EXPERIENCE: Ironside chugging a beer and purposely impaling his arm on broken glass!

This movie's got it all: gender confusion and commentary, awesome macabre 80's poster art, and a fantastic late-nite atmosphere. (My biggest issue, though, is that, for a feminist film, it doesn't especially have engaging female characters- note that all I can talk about is Ironside.) Still, four stars.

-Sean Gill

Film Review: THE PROWLER (1981, Joseph Zito)

Stars: 2 of 5.
Running Time: 89 minutes.
Notable Cast or Crew: SFX by Tom Savini, Starring Lawrence Tierney (RESERVOIR DOGS, DILLINGER), Farley Granger (STRANGERS ON A TRAIN, THEY LIVE BY NIGHT), Vicky Dawson (ABC AFTERSCHOOL SPECIALS).
Tag-lines: "It will freeze your blood."
Best one-liner: "Hey, who turned off the band?"

THE PROWLER's a mediocre 80's slasher with some spectacular, eye-popping gore FX by Tom Savini. But in a decade where the bar for teenage horror has been set so high (NIGHT OF THE CREEPS, NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET, PHANTASM II, etc.), mediocre doesn't really cut it. The butchery and bloodshed are indeed squirmingly realistic, but I couldn't give two sh*ts about the plot or characters. So, though THE PROWLER's gore might be more accomplished from a technical standpoint, in retrospect, I found myself recalling more readily scenes from MANIAC! or DAY OF THE DEAD, where the gore helped move the story along- not the other way around. Now the film does build a palpable nighttime atmosphere and has a killer that's kind of like Tom Berenger in PLATOON + Jason Voorhees, but I'm kinda bored with this.

Director Joseph Zito went on to bigger and better things with FRIDAY THE 13TH PART IV and a tenure as one of Cannon Films' artists in residence (MISSING IN ACTION, INVASION U.S.A., and he was supposed to helm the scrapped Golan-Globus SPIDERMAN), but this slasher here is so 'through the motions' (especially so for 1981, long before the genre became stale) that it's immensely disappointing. Still, I would ordinarily be giving this three stars for the immaculate carnage and pitchfork swingin' G.I. (not to mention the double-barreled shotgun blast to the face that clearly inspired a similar scene in WILD AT HEART),

so why only two? Well, let's see. At the beginning of this film, I was promised a leading role from classic Hollywood mean drunk and all-around tough guy Lawrence Tierney. Instead, I get nearly no Tierney at all. I got more Tierney in SILVER BULLET. So I gotta take a star away.

And, let's face it, you're getting off easy- Tierney would have broken a bottle over your head or something. Two stars.

-Sean Gill

Film Review: MISSING IN ACTION (1984, Joseph Zito)

Stars: 4 of 5.
Running Time: 101 minutes.
Notable Cast or Crew: Director Joseph Zito (THE PROWLER, INVASION U.S.A.). Starring Chuck Norris, M. Emmet Walsh (CRITTERS, BLOOD SIMPLE), James Hong (BIG TROUBLE IN LITTLE CHINA). William Sanderson (BLADE RUNNER, DEADWOOD) was supposed to play the M. Emmet Walsh part, but turned it down. Features an original song by Ice-T.
Tag-lines: "The war's not over until the last man comes home."
Best one-liner: "Damn right!"

First off, this is not a RAMBO: FIRST BLOOD PART II (1985) rip-off. RAMBO (which had, literally, 20 times the budget) is a MISSING IN ACTION (1984) rip-off. (Well, unless you subscribe to the account that Cannon read Cameron's treatment for RAMBO and rushed MIA into production in order to preemptively rip it off. But who would believe that? Cannon is like the classiest company ever.) People loved MISSING IN ACTION, and it became Cannon's highest grossing endeavor.

Chuck ended up collaborating with his buddies at Cannon nine times over the course of the next ten years.

The magically jaw-dropping plot is this: Norris tags along on a diplomatic trip to Vietnam, just so he can sneak away and free some POWs that these godless commie bastards have been smugly keeping for no reason whatsoever, other than that they're just a vindictive, duplicitous race of people that don't deserve to shake your hand, not ever.

Chuck's Braddock is so audacious that he makes Rambo look like Casper Milquetoast. Rambo is tortured by his memories. Rambo cries. Braddock walks a straight line through this movie from start to freeze-frame finish. Never changes, never questions, never wavers.



But it's the little (Golan/Globus) touches that really make this work: Viet Cong bringing megaphones into battle so they can taunt American G.I.s, Norris karate kicking a TV, a man shot as he gives the thumbs-up, James Hong (Lo Pan in BIG TROUBLE IN LITTLE CHINA) as a slimy villain who lowballs Braddock by saying HE's the war criminal, Ice T's techno (!) beats that play incessantly throughout all Bangkok scenes, a bulletproof dinghy, and crabby acting legend M. Emmet Walsh as Braddock's greasy old war buddy!

The film has a fairly odd sense of humor (or lack thereof), as well– situations normally played for laughs are presented in an odd, matter-of-fact manner. For example, Chuck's Thai cabbie (actually a Vietnamese assassin) tries to kill him, so Chuck strangles him and escapes the cab. Immediately thereafter, a Thai couple enters the cab and gives him an address. The camera lingers for a moment, and then we cut back to Chuck without any resolution, not even their discovery that their cabbie is dead. Typically, it would be a couple of over the top American tourists getting in the cab, saying some ludicrous one-liner, and then being surprised by his corpse, but here the sense is one of vague concern, as if 'Oh, well, I guess those people aren't going to get to their destination.'

Chuck tools around Saigon killing people, dressed in black- this may as well be a Cannon ninja movie.

His idea of negotiating is to aim a gun at you with a blank expression on his face. At a cocktail party he orders a beer, no glass, then insults some dignitaries. When he blows up the camp, we see the greatest explosions in Golan/Globus history (though, to be fair, I think it's one awesome explosion filmed from several different angles and shown repeatedly). Perhaps the coup de grace is Cannon working in a Thai hooker singing, basically a cappella (with minimal accordion accompaniment), Rod Stewart's "Do Ya Think I'm Sexy?" Yeah, this is pretty terrific. Four stars.

[Side note: in his hotel, Norris watches a SPIDERMAN cartoon marathon, foreshadowing the ill-fated Cannon Spidey movie, designed to be helmed by MISSING IN ACTION director Joseph Zito.]

-Sean Gill

Film Review: NATIONAL TREASURE- BOOK OF SECRETS (2007, Jon Turteltaub)

Stars: 2 of 5.
Running Time: 124 minutes.
Notable Cast or Crew: Nic Cage, Ed Harris, Jon Voight, Harvey Keitel, Helen Mirren, Diane Kruger, Justin Bartha.
Tag-lines: "Nicolas Cage."
Best one-liner: "What's the final clue?"

Alright, class, raise your hands if you want to see a Nic Cage movie. Good, good, almost everyone. Now, keep your hands raised if you also want to learn about American history. Alright, a bunch of hands just went down. What's the deal, kiddies? Alright. So...what if it was make-believe American history? Great, most of those hands went right back up. Now, keep your hands raised if you want to see Ed Harris play the villain.

Wow, not a single hand went down. Okay, so keep ‘em raised if you want to see Ed Harris' villain have his hands tied behind his back by some Michael Bay-lite hack in a PG-rated, violence free cornball fest? Hey! Where'd everybody go?

And there you have it, ladies and gents. If you want to see a bored Keitel sitting behind a desk,

Keitel's spirit is so broken he didn't even ASK if he could have a nude scene.

an exasperated Ed Harris daydreaming about APPALOOSA II, and Helen Mirren sadly bantering with Jon Voight

"Jon, stop thinking about Angelina for a minute, you're just gonna get yourself all worked up. We have some scenes to shoot."

(who's either phoning it in, or has totally lost it), then by all means, NATIONAL TREASURE 2 is for you.



Even with one arm tied behind his back, Ed is still majestically terrifying. "Hey kiddies, how'd you like my movie?"

The last hour is basically a geriatric GOONIES. No kid wants to see that. But, surprise, surprise, no adult wants to see this, either. And who the hell is this Justin Bartha guy? Smack dab in the middle of a crowd of paycheck collecting A-listers is this prime jag-off J. Crew faux-nerd intended for comic relief.

Nearly every scene is bookended with his nauseating delivery of nauseating lines, so, even if you sorta like a scene, he's going to make sure you leave with a bad taste in your mouth.

Also, the film promises to show Nic Cage KIDNAPPING THE PRESIDENT.

This could've been a real coup- I was thinking ball gag and everything. And with the superb Bruce Greenwood as the Pres, what could go wrong? Well, there is no kidnapping. Cage instead briefly speaks privately with the president.

An action flick should be like a shot of bourbon. The first one was watered down, but had a little bite. Here, we got a shot glass full of water. If you hold it up to the light, you can kinda see a tinge of brown, but not really. No sale, fellas.

-Sean Gill

Film Review: THE WHITE BUFFALO (1977, J. Lee Thompson)

Stars: 3.5 of 5.
Running Time: 97 minutes.
Notable Cast or Crew: Charles Bronson, Will Sampson, John Carradine, Jack Warden, Slim Pickens, Kim Novak, Ed Lauter. Music by John Barry.
Tag-lines: "Two legendary enemies unite to fight the charging white beast!!" and "YOU WON'T BELIEVE YOUR EYES!"

Part Dino De Laurentiis creature feature, part trippy Western, and part Charles Bronson shoot 'em up, THE WHITE BUFFALO failed to please the fans of any of those subgenres, and thus fell into obscurity. In actuality, it's a rather solid movie. Charles Bronson, decked out in 19th-Century shades and packin dual pistols in his sash, plays Wild Bill Hickok.

Most people in movies wake up from nightmares screaming. Bronson wakes up with guns blasting away, and thank God no one was in the top bunk.

Does he sleep while holding them?


Bronson: not at his best when tormented by visions of a white buffalo.

The nightmares involve a murderous white buffalo which has been manifesting itself in reality by destroying Native American villages.

The buffalo sequences involve gigantic puppets and expressionistic indoor sets full of snow, fir trees, and ominous shadows (think the maze in THE SHINING).

Some say hokey, I say atmospheric. There's well-written, mostly authentic Western banter ("You're up shit crick without a bull boat," "It's coldern'n a hooker's heart"); a mysteriously entrancing John Barry score; an appropriately douchey Ed Lauter (Shrike in DEATH WISH 3) as Tom Custer;

Jack Warden as Bronson's racist, irascible sidekick; Slim Pickens as a whacky wagon driver; Kim Novak as an old flame; John Carradine as a stately undertaker (see the same role, albeit sleazier, in THE SHOOTIST);

and Will Sampson as a humble warrior (who may just be a famous historical figure in disguise).

Costume possibly purchased at a souvenir shop.


Bronson threatens to thrown a man out of a moving carriage for using the word "friggin" in front of a lady. Yes, that seriously happens in this movie. (And the man is indeed thrown from the carriage and promptly killed by Native Americans.)

There's a few solid shootouts and some Bronson-esque detours, but the main thrust is the epic hunt for the buffalo, as if Jack London had written MOBY DICK. As far as trippy Westerns go, this was clearly a huge influence (aesthetically and thematically) on Jarmusch's DEAD MAN, and, frankly, I even prefer it to something like Jodorowsky's EL TOPO, as it never employs the ole "weirdness just for weirdness' sake." Three and a half stars.

-Sean Gill

Film Review: THE HEROIN BUSTERS (1977, Enzo G. Castellari)

Stars: 4 of 5.
Running Time: 132 minutes.
Notable Cast or Crew: Music by Goblin. Starring Fabio Testi, David Hemmings, Joshua Sinclair.
Tag-lines: "FABIO TESTI."
Best one-liner: See review.

"I'm gonna put a bullet in your assshole!" Yeah, you are. Enzo Castellari strikes again with bad dubbing; idioms that don't exist in English ("It's like having fleas- but these fleas BITE!"); head-scratching plot twists; and tight, TIGHT jeans. You know, I've not yet seen a Castellari film that I was disappointed with. Each time I go in with the expectation of purely ironic thrills (which I certainly get), but end up leaving with a mostly sincere appreciation of what I've just seen. He may use a laughable amount of reaction shots, have unexplained lesbian dream sequences, and frame a lot of shots with asscrack in the foreground, but damned if he isn't a good filmmaker. His action scenes have a certain 'poor man's Peckinpah' intensity to them, and he manages to capture the 'Howard Hawks via John Carpenter' dynamic of buddy-bonding (usually peppered with spit-take inducing homoerotic undertones).

But anyway, on to THE HEROIN BUSTERS: we have the awesome David Hemmings (BLOW-UP, DEEP RED) as a likable, baby-faced Interpol agent who is always smacking the shit out of people and swearing,

Hemmings shows Testi who's the boss. Note the map in the background: "Ah yes there are drugs in these cities. And if you connect them with yarn, it looks something like THIS."

Fabio Testi (the 1970's Italian Hugh Jackman) wearing a tight denim outfit tucked into boots and held together by a red cloth which I guess is a belt, fantastic stuntwork, and a 'Battle of the Cessnas' finale.

Fabio Testi walks into a room and people just start getting intimidated.


"Next time bring your daddies." Note the makeshift belt.

This movie is epic. There's a montage of the drug trade in 5 international cities in just 5 minutes.

Hi-tech crime-busting equipment of incredible sophistication.

And it's all set to the rockin' "Italo Disco meets Led Zeppelin" riffs of GOBLIN. And when this movie's in doubt, it shows one of two things: thugs punching or junkies shooting up. Somebody does some smack. Who is this person? It doesn't matter, cause six dudes just busted in and are whaling on him.

Who are they? It doesn't matter, cause now we're in a different city where the same thing is happening, but to a new guitar riff. Yeah. That's what this movie is all about. Four stars. Keep 'em in that secret boot-heel panel where you hide all your best H.

-Sean Gill

Film Review: FROGS (1972, George McCowan)

Stars: 4 of 5.
Running Time: 91 minutes.
Notable Cast or Crew: Ray Milland, Sam Elliott, Joan van Ark.
Tag-lines: "Cold green skin against soft warm flesh...a croak...a scream."
Best one-liner: "I still believe man is master of the world!"

FROGS is a grand ole time of a movie from some filmmakers who thought they were making something in the same league as THE BIRDS [with fleeting touches of REAR WINDOW and GUESS WHO'S COMING TO DINNER? (!)] Hitchcockian aspirations aside, it's almost as if an ecologically-minded after-school special was co-directed by Arch Hall, Sr. and Werner Herzog. In short, the makers lack a rudimentary knowledge of the language of cinema, yet are devoted to the message that "the common character of the universe is not harmony, but chaos, hostility, and murder." Nearly every scene in the film is book-ended by ominous shots of slowly advancing frogs.

Each death scene is lethargically paced and punctuated with atonal music. Frogs attack windows. A frog jumps on a record player. A man shoots himself in the foot, then is pinned down by moss, and tarantulas walk all over him until he's dead.

A frog leaps on a cake made in the shape of the American flag. All variety of animals commit murder. Apparently the frogs pull the strings. All of these events are sort of tied together by an Everglade party thrown by wheelchair-using Ray Milland, who maintains a "show must go on" attitude in the midst of a high body count.

Milland, ostensibly the villain, brings a lot of class and commitment to his role. I guess he uses too much pesticide and shoots a snake off of his chandelier (then says "What's everybody standing around for- let's eat!"), but other than that, I see no real reason why the frogs ought to seek revenge. It's not like he sticks frog heads on pikes on his lawn.

I guess his general bad attitude was enough motive for the frogs. Sam Elliot (sans moustache) is our poor man's ecologist and croc-blasting hero.

Now, many have complained that the poster is dishonest- it depicts a frog eating a human hand- a scene they say is not depicted in the movie. To them, I say, stick around till after the end credits: there may be a juicy surprise in store.

-Sean Gill