All posts by Rod Lott

Thriller

Careful What You Wish For (2015)

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carefulwhatNick Jonas kisses his purity-ring days of the Jonas Brothers bye-bye with Careful What You Wish For, an erotic thriller so by-the-numbers and yet diluted, it may as well be titled Basic Instinct for Beginners.

Acting through a series of drooping bottom lips, the youngest Jo Bro headlines as Doug, a teenaged virgin home for summer vacation. He’s hired by investment banker Elliot Harper (Insidious: Chapter 3’s Dermot Mulroney, nailing the Rich Asshole part) to keep the man’s sailboat in tiptop shape for the insultingly low hourly wage of 12 bucks. An unmentioned fringe benefit: close proximity to Mr. Harper’s much younger trophy wife, Lena (Isabel Lucas, 2014’s The Loft), an overly lithe, living Barbie who thinks nothing of bathing in the nude in broad daylight in peekaboo showers on the public dock — a lot of prepositional phrases for such a simplistic setup.

carefulwhat1Yes, of course they’re totally gonna do it. And of course Lena talks smack of her husband to Doug, saying, “You have no idea what he’s capable of.” And of course their affair will lead to mortal danger. Too faithfully, director Elizabeth Allen (Ramona and Beezus) follows the modern template of sex-infused noir throwbacks established by Lawrence Kasdan’s Body Heat, so that little of significance is new and plot turns can be spotted far in advance. What Allen does do differently is render the proceedings oddly sexless, meaning that while the movie is filled with couplings between Lena and Doug, nudity is limited to bare backsides and (if this even counts) rain turning Lena’s shirt see-through.

First-time feature screenwriter Chris Frisina juices the dialogue so that every line of Elliot’s is laced with elbow-jutting innuendo, from “Anything worth doing is worth doing all the way” to “This hasn’t been thoroughly caulked,” and the joke calls too much attention to itself to work. Frisina also appears to draw inspiration from Armageddon’s infamous animal-crackers seduction scene, with Doug rolling an Oreo cookie down Lena’s bare hips and legs. Restraint is shown by not allowing Doug to pull them open and lick the cream; somewhere, Michael Douglas volunteers to show this young pup how it’s done. —Rod Lott

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Reading Material

Reading Material: Short Ends 6/18/2016

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newfrenchextremityAs recent attacks in Paris have demonstrated, the City of Lights unwillingly can be at odds with its postcard-perfect image propagated by the tourism board. Terrorism aside, Alexandra West examines the “nihilistic forces and presences” at work from within France, and how they have made their way into Films of the New French Extremity: Visceral Horror and National Identity. With a piercing critical eye and a wealth of insight, West takes a long, hard look at about two dozen movies, several of which have become well-known in the States: among them, Baise-moi, Irreversible, Trouble Every Day and the ultra-gory triple threat of Martyrs, Frontier(s) and Inside, all arranged into loose themes. Prior consumption of titles is hardly required; she keeps discussion lively and engaging, whether it’s a movie fresh on my mind (Sheitan) or something I never plan to see (anything else from Gaspar Noé). Published by McFarland & Company in trade paperback, West’s book is so très fantastique that I wish it were a reference guide that covered hundreds of films, while while I remain appreciative of what it is: a well-curated representation of the movement at large, even extends to High Tension director Alexandre Aja’s Hollywood work as a remake machine.

byebyemanCan’t wait to put some scares into your summer moviegoing with The Bye Bye Man? Well, hate to break it you, but the flick has been delayed to December. Fear not! You can temporarily scratch your urban-legend itch by reading the book on which the film is based. Originally published as 2005’s The President’s Vampire: Strange-but-True Tales of the United States of America, Robert Damon Schneck’s work has been slyly and slickly repackaged as a TarcherPerigee trade paperback tie-in as — hell, what else? — The Bye Bye Man and Other Strange-but-True Tales, with a new afterword so brief, it hardly merits this mention. The title tale is an account of some Wisconsin teens’ terrifying experiences after screwing around with a Ouija board. Schneck approaches it and each of the seven other stories with the doggedness of a journalist, albeit a journalist reporting on ghosts, inexplicably vanishing kids, spirit advisers, mummies and the like. Even if I don’t believe any of them, Charles Fort sure would be proud and potential surely exists for a fun horror film … or eight.

citizenkaneleboLiterate Orson Welles fans have had it rather good of late, with A. Brad Schwartz’s Broadcast Hysteria, Peter Biskind’s My Lunches with Orson and Josh Karp’s Orson Welles’s Last Movie hitting shelves, to mention just three. Now add Harlan Lebo’s Citizen Kane: A Filmmaker’s Journey, in hardcover from Thomas Dunne Books, to that list. On second thought, scratch that: Move it right to the top. Drawing upon intimidating levels of research, Lebo has crafted what must be the definitive telling of this classic film’s complete story; while many Kane texts are keen to settle on the actual production and the behind-the-scenes war of the words with William Randolph Hearst, Hebo widens the lens on both sides, with particular attention paid to how the movie’s reputation ballooned over subsequent decades, often in disproportion to Welles’ own. The greatest of this type of book is to make you want to revisit its subject yet again while lending your eyes a fresh perspective; Lebo’s Journey does just that. A toast, Jedediah, to love on its terms!

kissencyclopediaAttention, all members in good standing of the KISS Army, Brett Weiss’ Encyclopedia of KISS: Music, Personnel, Events and Related Subjects is for you. Not being a fan myself of the legendary ’70s shock-rock band, I’m hardly the target market for this McFarland & Company paperback release. Much more than focused on albums and singles, the work catalogues forays into film, TV and comics, yet it strikes me as large in scope and light on detail. For example, the movie nut in me is drawn toward three things: the infamous Hanna-Barbera production KISS Meets the Phantom of the Park and Gene Simmons’ better half, erotic-thriller queen Shannon Tweed. While both are included, information on each is extremely limited; therefore, the band’s legion of hungry followers may find the book ironically wanting. Completists will want it nonetheless.

singlesitcomI had a blast perusing page after page of Bob Leszczak’s Single Season Sitcoms of the 1980s: A Complete Guide. A sequel to his similarly named project covering the years 1948-1979 (also published by McFarland & Company), the paperback profiles an entire era-appropriate TV Guide’s worth of ratings-challenged comedies I grew up with (well, for several months, anyway) and loved: It’s Your Move, starring Jason Bateman at his smarmiest; The Duck Factory, with then-unknown Jim Carrey as an animator; the non-sequitur No Soap Radio; the Police Academy-influenced The Last Precinct; and Leslie Nielsen as Frank Drebin in Police Squad!, in color! There are many more that I didn’t like, and those are here, too. (I should note that then, as with today, I had no social life.) Leszczak provides a significant amount of background info for each show, supplemented with comments from actors and creators when available. While lists of episode titles don’t do anything for me, they are here for historical preservation. Who else is willing to do it? —Rod Lott

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Comedy

Natural Born Pranksters (2016)

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NBPrankstersFor being Natural Born Pranksters, “professional idiots” Rowan Atwood, Dennis Roady and Vitaly Zdorovetskiy could stand for more training. Strictly from the basis of this, their first feature, the collective exploits of the popular YouTube rogues are not quite in line with their videos’ phenomenal viewing numbers.

The bits that make up this movie exhibit a gangliness in pacing, editing and sometimes even execution. Most segments either go on too long or call it quits before a true punch line can stick the landing; a few aren’t funny in the least. By contrast, your appreciation for the Jackass crew’s big-screen shenanigans will undergo an exponential increase.

NBPranksters1In a guest appearance, Jackass alum Dave Englund is tapped to do what he does best: Defecate on camera for the sake of a joke. In this case, his fecal matter serves as the “paint” for an abstract work of art on canvas to be raffled at a hoity-toity gallery opening. While making viewers grateful that the Smell-O-Vision gimmick failed to catch fire, this piece emerges as one of Pranksters’ better and more memorable ones, given that the target of snobbery deserves a good-natured poke. (That does not always hold true, especially when an earlier prank takes aim at a someone who doesn’t deserve the cruelty: a brand-new dad, whose mind appears to vacillate — before Atwood et al. reveal it’s just a joke, brah — between processing the life-shattering news foisted upon him and contemplating immediate suicide.)

Falling into the pro-Pranksters category are harmless hidden-camera premises of a campsite alien abduction and a gore-soaked human cannonball stunt gone awry. Respectively, citizens scared to the point of pants-wetting and witnessing sick humor on a grand scale are two elements of which the movie could use more. Less-effective antics include a faked mid-massage boner, a faked liquor store robbery and a faked death by truck-through-porta-potty. As far as franchise prospects go, this is a deeply flawed fair start. —Rod Lott

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Horror

The Funhouse Massacre (2015)

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funhousemassacreSix crazed murderers enter a popular Halloween-night haunt. Next to no one exits. And that, ladies and gentlemen and children of all ages, is what we call The Funhouse Massacre.

Led by the charismatic cult leader Uncle Manny (Jere Burns, Otis) and his dead-sexy paramour, the Harley Quinn-styled Dollface (model Candice De Visser, making a memorable and assured screen debut), this very dirty half-dozen of Statesville Mental Hospital escapees is drawn to the bloody attraction because its various themed rooms depict the devious crimes that got them committed in the first place.

funhousemassacre1For example, Animal the Cannibal (E.E. Bell, Herbie Fully Loaded) is a chef who cooks with human ingredients; Dr. Suave (Sebastian Siegel, Risk for Honor) specializes in dentistry that flies in the face of the Hippocratic oath; the Taxidermist (Clint Howard, because duh) is “sew” good with skin, but we’re not talking animals; and Rocco the Clown (Mars Crain, Hancock) has a penchant for … well, as the old saying goes, if you can’t put a smile on their face, tear off the face.

Because the haunt is inspired by the loons’ infamous handiwork, they fit right in. A running joke of the film by Andy Palmer (Alien Strain) is that the crowds think them to be part of the plan. (Okay, so it’s not a good running joke.) It’s only after grisly slayings occur among their group that visitors take notice, that amusement is usurped by bemusement.

Funhouse’s flavoring? The 1980s — very, very ’80s. If you’re not going to be original, there are worse things from which to take inspiration. In his first feature as a screenwriter, The Hungover Games actor Ben Begley (who also fills the comic-relief role of the genre’s requisite bumbling deputy) clearly displays a soft spot for that era’s horror icons à la Freddy Krueger — not for nothing does Robert Englund cameo in the prologue — and in particular their more humor-driven misadventures, where the metaphorical stakes mattered little compared to the physical stakes … or any implement that was sharp, serrated and/or pointed. The balance between this Massacre’s light tone and heavy bloodletting works pretty well. Its effervescence just runs out of bubbles before Palmer and pals officially are done. —Rod Lott

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Action

Fists of Steel (1991)

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fistsofsteelImagine if Jean-Claude Van Damme made Bloodsport and then never got to topline another action film. You’ve just envisioned a sad world, I know, and yet that is the reality for world-champion boxer Carlos Palomino and his Fists of Steel. Having essayed the roles of Truck Driver, First Cuban and Bandit #1 in, respectively, Silent Night, Deadly Night III; It’s Alive III and Dance of the Dwarfs, the welterweight champ earned his shot at action-hero glory in the Stallone/Schwarzenegger era.

Written, produced and directed by Jerry Schafer (whose only other credit is 1970’s obscure hippie drama, Like It Is), the film plays directly to its hopeful star’s strengths, in that he plays a guy named Carlos. From a logo that belongs on a locker mirror won at the state fair to a theme song rivaling “You Got the Touch” in the department of he-men ballads, everything about Fists of Steel screams the 1980s. Although the indie was released in 1991, I suspect its delay represents a case of shelf-sitting while awaiting a buyer, because a portrait of President Ronald Reagan smiles from the wood-paneled wall of the single room serving as CIA headquarters.

fistsofsteel1The CIA needs an agent “outside the government” to bring down Shogi (Henry Silva, Above the Law), “an expert in three areas of terrorism: killing, kidnapping and ambush.” In fact, Shogi — who theme-dresses like a baseball player and a dentist when torturing victims — ordered the death of Carlos’ father via truck running over his head, thus making a revenge-salivating Carlos the agency’s ideal recruit.

The only problem is that Shogi is known to be in Hawaii, says Agent George (Sam Melville, Twice Dead), which may be problematic for Carlos in source utilization. Carlos asks George if Hawaii has any Mexican restaurants, to which George responds in the affirmative.

“Then I have sources,” says Carlos, a Vietnam vet who is capital-D down for undertaking the mission, and under the code name of Conquistador at that: “He’s gonna die slow. And mean. And hard.”

But shit won’t be easy; Shogi has a secret weapon in the hourglass form of a KGB honey (Marianne Marks, Russ Meyer’s Up!) whose Russian accent is so brick-thick, you half-anticipate hearing the phrase “moose and squirrel” emerge from her ruby-red mouth. Also working their way into the plot: an itching henchman named Itchy, a butt-ugly lounge singer, a round of bikini croquet and two twists I dare not spoil, even if the first is as obvious as Carlos’ mustache is bountiful.

The way Fists of Steel ends (read: abruptly, bordering on accidentally) leaves as many questions unanswered as it does near-split ribs from prolonged laughter. Although a talented fighter, Palomino is no actor — not that lack of thespian skills ever stopped Van Damme — and there would be no further adventures of Conquistador. But I would gladly pay to see them. —Rod Lott

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