Only now does it occur to me... WITCHBOARD (1986)

 In this, the first installment "Of Whitesnakes and Witchboards... a Tawny Kitaen Retrospective":

 

Only now does it occur to me.... that Tawney Kitaen's acting skills are... um... pretty good, actually! She acts circles around basically every other performer (with one slight exception) in WITCHBOARD, a delightfully half-assed 80s horror flick (which spawned two sequels) about a killer Ouija board.

 

Tawny doesn't need competent scene partners to ply her trade

Tawny Kitaen––whose real surname is indeed "Kitaen" and whose first name is a childhood sobriquet––is probably best known for performing in a series of music videos by Whitesnake, whereupon she was draped across the hoods of cars, giant staircases, grand pianos, etc. I imagine these videos were a blessing and a curse––they seemed to pigeonhole her as "exhausted babe lightly gyrating on the hood of a expensive car" and catapulted her to a form of stardom she could never quite escape. I actually grew up thinking her last name was the quasi-sleazy nom de guerre "Kitten."

I suppose you wouldn't know it from the "Here I Go Again" or "The Deeper the Love" music videos, but Kitaen is a likable, versatile actor who absolutely deserved a Sharon Stone/Mimi Rogers/Gina Gershon-sized career; she's the sort of performer who can navigate the Scylla-and-Charibdyean passageway between "sex object" and "talented character actor," whether she's messing around on a Ouija board while wearing a statement bow

 

or totally possessed by a Depression-era axe murderer (who apparently teased her hair mid-possession). At any rate, we see a whole range of acting here that doesn't involve reclining on random luxury objects while fans blow at her hair.

Linda Blair, eat your heart out

Speaking of THE EXORCIST, director Kevin S. Tenney––who would go on to perfect his schtick a few years later with the lovable NIGHT OF THE DEMONS––turns in a film clearly inspired by Blatty's leftovers. It suffers from many of the (pacing) problems that plague freshman indie pictures, but it's really not bad! There's inventive, lively, Sam Raimi-esque cinematography by Roy H. Wagner (NINE DEATHS OF THE NINJA, A NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET 3: DREAM WARRIORS)

and, obviously, there's Tawny Kitaen. But I must conclude with a shout-out to a performance I alluded to earlier: Kathleen Wilhoite's. You may remember her as Dr. Lewis' sister in the early seasons of ER, or you may remember her immortal role in Cannon Films' MURPHY'S LAW, where she called Charles Bronson "Scrotum cheeks," "Jism breath," "Camel crotch," and "Dinosaur dork," among other poetic nicknames. Here she plays Zarabeth the Medium, and while she only appears in one and a half scenes,

she is the 80s witchy woman/subculture valley girl that we all deserve. Amen.

Film Review: MURPHY'S LAW (1986, J. Lee Thompson)

Stars: 4 of 5.
Running Time: 100 minutes.
Notable Cast or Crew: Charles Bronson, Kathleen Wilhoite (ER, NURSE BETTY, THE EDGE), Carrie Snodgress (PALE RIDER, THE FURY), Robert F. Lyons (DEATH WISH 2, DARK NIGHT OF THE SCARECROW), Richard Romanus (MEAN STREETS, HEAVY METAL, OSCAR), Lawrence Tierney (RESERVOIR DOGS, DILLINGER, THE PROWLER). Produced by Menahem Golan, Yoram Globus, and Jill Ireland. Directed by J. Lee Thompson (GUNS OF NAVARONE, CAPE FEAR, DEATH WISH 4: THE CRACKDOWN).
Tag-line: "They stole everything he had. Now its time to pay."
Best one-liner: SEE REVIEW.

In a familiar, darkened alley:

"Psst- you know Murphy's Law?"
–"Sure, sure. 'Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong.'"
"Actually, you're wrong."
–"Well, wouldn't that merely prove the law?"
"No. You wanna hear what Murphy's Law really is?"
–"Sure."
"DON'T FUCK WITH JACK MURPHY!"
–"What are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about a Golan/Globus/Bronson flick that you need to check out, immediately."
–"I've seen most of those already- DEATH WISH II, DEATH WISH 3, ASSASSINATION, MESSENGER OF DEATH..."
"Whoa-whoa- You've seen MESSENGER OF DEATH, but not MURPHY'S LAW? What the fuck is wrong with you... scrotum cheeks?"
–"What did you just call me?"
"I called you scrotum cheeks, ya... snot-lickin' donkey fart."
–"Hold the phone- wherever did these remarkable insults come from?"
"What the hell have we been talking about... toejam?– MURPHY'S goddamned LAW!"
–"All of these vivid disparagements derive from a single source?"
"Lemme lay it out for ya. Charles Bronson is Jack Murphy. He's one tough cop, but his wife left 'im. He's subsequently been hittin' the bottle a little too much. A bottle of Frangelico, to be precise.

Note the Frangelico. No sign of any Mandom, though.

Well, that's actually just in one scene, but I'm forced to assume that whenever I see him with a flask, he is knockin' back some of the rich, Hazelnutty delights that Frangelico offers the discerning dessert liqueur aficionado.

Anyway, he's not doin' so well.

Somebody stole his car–"
–"Somebody stole his car? Are you thinking of 'It's MY CAR!' from DEATH WISH 3?"
"No, I'm not, and don't interrupt me again. Kathleen Wilhoite (a scrappy dame who could have been the next Lori Petty had she played her cards right) is the car thief. Remember that, cause it's important later. She gives Bronson the classic Cannon low-blow and escapes.

Bronson recovers from a well-delivered bop to the Bazzinis.

Anyway, Bronson's wife is a stripper who kinda looks like Vanna White.

("I'm a dancer." –"You call THAT dancing?!").
Bronson views this with disdain:

Anyway, somebody with a grudge KILLS her- and frames Bronson. Bronson is arrested, handcuffed in lockup to the same car-thieving malfeasant Kathleen Wilhoite, and then ESCAPES!"
–"So, it's like THE DEFIANT ONES, but with a foul-mouthed spitfire."
"Listen, it's not just any foul-mouthed spitfire- it's a Cannon Films foul-mouthed spitfire."
–"Ah, you refer to those magnificent insults you abused me with, earlier."
"Precisely. You want another sampling?"
–"Lay it on me."
"Pervert. Scrotum cheeks. Jism breath. Camel crotch. Snot-lickin' donkey fart. Dick Tracey. Two-inch-pecker. Scumbag cop. Toejam. Monkey vomit. Fart brains. Shall I go on? Slimeball. Suck a doorknob, ya homo.
 
Dickbrain. Jock itch. Penis head. Kiss my squirrel. Kiss my pantyhose. José. Buffalo shit. Booger bits. Sperm bank. Mutant. Asshole. Snot-suckin' garbage dump. Airwolf. Barf bag. Dog snot. Motor mouth. Dog piss. Sperm count. Dinosaur dorks.
Douche bag. Anchovy breath. Pepperoni breath. Weenie roast."
–I don't believe I've ever heard so many creative put-downs in all my life!"
"Well, now I'll get into the special reserve: Dildo nose. Butt crust. Pubic hair."
–"'Pubic hair?' Are you serious?"
"Yeah. As in, 'Hey, pubic hair, I'm talkin' to ya!'"
–"Is that some sort of crass allusion to Bronson's stache?"
"Come to think of it, it might be. But that's not all: there's arbitrary homophobia (Bronson: 'Come on admit it, you're a dyke'),

eyebrow-raising misogyny,

random, anti-Italian sentiment,

a Lawrence Tierney cameo,

a mobster with a hearing aid, a notice of divorce... from the Supreme Court, pleather vests, a showdown filmed at the cavernous apartment dwelling of J.F. Sebastian from BLADE RUNNER, a closing song- called 'Murphy's Law'- that is so jazzy, it practically reinvents the word, and the following poster which randomly appears:

which I wish could hang on every wall in my home."
–"Wow, it sounds good. And I kinda want that poster, too."
"See what I mean? And do you remember that scene in DEATH WISH 4: THE CRACKDOWN? The one where Bronson says 'I'm MAKIN' a SANDWICH!'"
–"Oh yeah, how could I forget!"
"Well there's kind of a similarly-themed scene here, too. One of MURPHY'S LAW's greatest strengths is the dialogue. Dale Morgan Hickman- who also wrote DEATH WISH 4- is a literary titan to be reckoned with. For example, Wilhoite asks Bronson if he'd like a sandwich, and the following transpires:

Would you like a sandwich?







Come on... I can't be the only one thinking of Samuel Beckett."
–"Funny, I was gonna say Pinter- there's a bit of an underlying menace to it, don't you think?"
"I'd say you're missing the point. Something about the dialogue- it takes on a greater significance than any other element in the film. Look at this:


Maybe the entire idea of a female villain was devised so that they could use this specific line of dialogue. I mean, look at the care which was put into the insults. It's a literary film. One where the words matter."
–"Maybe you go a bit too far."
"Maybe I do- but maybe it's just the kind of sincere devotion that MURPHY'S LAW cultivates in its viewers."
–"Well, I don't know. I guess I'll have to see it for myself."
"Do that."
–"Okay."
"One more thing-"
–"What?"
"Chicken's good, mayo's bad, AND DON'T FUCK WITH JACK MURPHY!"
–"Words to live by, I think."

Film Review: ANGEL HEART (1987, Alan Parker)

Stars: 4.7 of 5.
Running Time: 113 minutes.
Notable Cast or Crew: Mickey Rourke, Robert de Niro, Lisa Bonet, Charlotte Rampling. Music by Trevor Jones (EXCALIBUR, LABYRINTH, RUNAWAY TRAIN). Cinematography by Michael Seresin.
Tag-line: "It will scare you to your very soul."
Best one-liner: "I gotta thing about chickens."

ANGEL HEART is a masterful 80's neo-noir (with a tinge of otherworldly horror) from English filmmaker Alan Parker (PINK FLOYD'S THE WALL, FAME, MIDNIGHT EXPRESS). Parker tackles the supernatural like the best of Kubrick and Lynch, rarely presenting it tangibly, and instead opting to let you simply feel the timbre of its ominous presence.

The forceful imagery of cinematographer Michael Seresin (ANGELA'S ASHES, FOXES) and production designer Brian Morris (THE HUNGER, the first PIRATES OF THE CARIBBEAN) goes a long way in maintaining this exquisite atmosphere, and these impressions (like an imposing tenement with one, red-lit window or a shadowy, malfunctioning steel fan squeaking and scraping in the night) remain ingrained in your mind long after the picture has finished. The key performances are astoundingly good, with Mickey Rourke delivering probably his second best performance of the 80's (after RUMBLE FISH) as a chicken-phobic private eye who finds his entire world crumbling around him.

Robert de Niro is his mysterious, long-fingernailed client who manages to transform the act of eating a hard-boiled egg into meditation on existential dread.

Charlotte Rampling is a world-weary Southern gentlewoman who has more than dabbled in the black arts, and Lisa Bonet's bayou-dwelling voodoo priestess may just figure into the mystery as well. Almost playfully macabre, ANGEL HEART is littered with puns, allusions, and utter ridiculousness, from Rourke's Coney Island 'nose shield'

to the droll callousness of lighting a match off a dead man's shoe. But this thing is brutal, too: it's Cajuns threatening to have their dogs bite your face off, it's being beaten and thrown into a wheelbarrow of crawdads, it's scalding and slicing and being asphyxiated by your own (severed) balls. It all builds to a surprising coda, that, even if you see it coming, is simultaneously mind-numbing and masochistically satisfying. Life's just one creaky, rusty elevator ride, and it only ends once.



-Sean Gill


2009 Halloween Countdown

31. PROM NIGHT (1980, Paul Lynch)
30. PHENOMENA (1985, Dario Argento)
29. HOUSE OF WAX (1953, André de Toth)
28. SILENT RAGE (1982, Michael Miller)
27. BASKET CASE (1982, Frank Henenlotter)
26. THE DEADLY SPAWN (1983, Douglas McKeown)
25. PELTS (2006, Dario Argento)
24. ANGEL HEART (1987, Alan Parker)
23.
...