All posts by Rod Lott

Comedy

WolfCop (2014)

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wolfcopLike Snakes on a Plane and Hot Tub Time Machine before it, WolfCop is one of those titles where … well, where all you really need to hear is the title: Either you’re immediately in or forever out. I was so “in,” I was whatever the movie-watching equivalent of “DTF” is.

In a sleepy, snowy Canadian town overtaken by meth, Sgt. Lou Garou (Leo Fafard, until now an unknown entity) works (sometimes) to keep the peace. He’s one of the sheriff’s department’s three members, yet he barely counts since he’s perpetually tardy and decidedly alcoholic. So lazy is Lou that upon waking (hungover) one morning, he initially doesn’t notice the pentagram crudely carved into his upper body. Later, however, he does notice his human penis transform into an animal one, because that’s how you get a guy’s attention nowadays. In short order, Lou’s other parts shape-shift in goopy, gory pain, as a result of whatever the hell happened to him the night before.

wolfcop1Yep, this pig has become a werewolf — a WolfCop, if you will — and with the new way of life come distinct advantages, all the better to fight crime with: super strength, a keener-than-keen sense of smell, a bitchin’ modified police cruiser, a sidekick in the conspiracy-minded gun store owner (Jonathan Cherry, Final Destination 2) and — best of the best — the increased amorous attention of the town’s sex-on-a-stick bartender (Sarah Lind, Severed: Forest of the Dead), who’s not above a little Red Riding Hood role-play.

A big leap up for writer/director Lowell Dean (whose previous film, the 2013 zombie flick 13 Eerie, showed visual promise and not much else), WolfCop belongs to that rare breed of horror-comedy: one that’s truly funny. With game performances and confident control over tone, Dean strikes the proper balance necessary for delivering laughs without spoofing itself. Make no mistake: It’s in on its own joke, but thankfully free of winks to drive that point home. Dean even keeps the insanity restrained until it no longer makes sense to do so; at that point, he loosens his firm grip on the leash and lets the thing run wild. You’ll understand why and thank him for it.

Nearly start-to-finish rollicking, WolfCop is an instant cult classic. —Rod Lott

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Sci-Fi & Fantasy

The Ultimate Warrior (1975)

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UltimatewarriorIn 2012 A.D., a plague-ravaged New York City carries the stench of The Omega Man all over it — but in a matte-painting/studio-backlot way — in The Ultimate Warrior. Newsflash: The future is dull and boring, so file this speculative-fiction snoozer under “sigh-fi.”

While cannibalistic street people lurk about, the dozens of survivors form a makeshift community within a city block junk-walled for reinforcement. Under the kindly watch of Baron (Max von Sydow, Flash Gordon), their ersatz mayor, the grime-faced men and women sustain themselves on vegetables grown on a rooftop garden and rations of tinned meat and powdered milk.

ultimatewarrior1The film’s title refers to Carson (Yul Brynner, The Magnificent Seven), a bare-chested and high-waisted fighter invited by Baron to join their quaint neighborhood. Lured not by the offer of extra portions at mealtime, but by the promise of “cee-gars” to get his smoke on, Carson agrees. That’s good, because every post-apocalyptic compound needs an ass-kicker in its employ, particularly with the ever-present threat posed by the ginger-haired giant Carrot (William Smith, 1982’s Conan the Barbarian). Blood is shed, in the color and consistency of Campbell’s Condensed Tomato Soup.

Eventually, Baron sends Carson on an Important Mission, but don’t get your hopes up. That portion — seemingly an afterthought — is even less interesting than everything before it. Then pushing age 55, Brynner is hardly the end-all-be-all tuffie promised — hell, he’s a fraction of the imposing figure he cut just two years earlier as Westworld‘s robo-cowboy — and that alone renders the very premise obsolete. The same could be said of its writer/director, Robert Clouse, continuing his long, slow slide from the (accidental?) heights of the 1973’s kung-fu classic Enter the Dragon to the dregs of DTV action. —Rod Lott

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Comedy

Zombieworld (2015)

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zombieworldAs the first film presented by the Dread Central website, Zombieworld would be expected to be a full-fledged horror film. Instead, it’s a collection of about a dozen shorts, most of which existed prior to this project, not to mention an outright comedy. That’s not a bad thing — just something its packaging takes great pains to hide.

Loosely tying the segments together is the ongoing newscast of anchorman Marvin Gloatt (Bill Oberst Jr., Abraham Lincoln vs. Zombies) as the world succumbs to a zombie apocalypse, himself included. In increasing states of decomposition, Gloatt and his toupee break away to reports from around the globe. These are the shorts, of course, involving everything from a convenience store to a mailman to a video game. One resembles found footage, while another a mock training film. The bit set in Australia contains no levity whatsoever, making it stick out for all the wrong reasons.

zombieworld1Doing so for the right reasons are the hysterical, over-the-top bookends by Spanish co-directors David Muñoz and Adrián Cardona: Fist of Jesus, which pits Christ and sidekick Judas against a horde of the undead, and Brutal Relax, following a mental patient on a beach holiday interrupted by an invasion of zombies from the sea. Gleeful in their goriness, both pieces seem like Mad magazine parodies adapted for the screen by Sam Raimi circa Evil Dead 2.

Representing the collective work of 14 directors, Zombieworld is not an all-star celebration along the lines of The ABCs of Death — unless you consider Wrestlemaniac influential or noteworthy (and I sure don’t, as that 2006 luchador slasher is barely watchable) — so approach it as an opportunity be exposed to the genre’s potential up-and-comers. All in all, the movie is as uneven as a vertiginous hunchback attempting to stay atop a rolling log, but the shorts that do hit merit the time invested. —Rod Lott

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Horror

Frankenstein vs. the Mummy (2015)

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frankensteinmummyAnyone expecting the epic battle promised by the title of Frankenstein vs. the Mummy to be an epic battle is in for a rude awakening. Ironically, in keeping the fight confined to one scene toward the end, writer/director Damien Leone is sticking closely to the monster-mash template of the past, à la Universal’s black-and-white classic Frankenstein Meets the Wolf Man.

To many, that won’t matter. What will is the time it takes to get to the point where those creatures are ready to rumble. Whereas the aforementioned 1943 film was over and done with in less than 75 minutes, this one takes nearly 120.

As if you needed to be told, leather-jacketed med-school professor Dr. Victor Frankenstein (Max Rhyser, Razortooth) is working on a secret project: reanimating the dead! Meanwhile, fellow faculty member and Maxim-ready archaeologist Naihla Khalil (Ashton Leigh, The Virginity Hit) has brought a rather unique souvenir back from her trip to Egypt: the crusty corpse of a pharaoh!

frankensteinmummy1While Dr. F and Ms. K go on a first date (on which she puts out), her mummy (Brandon deSpain, The Black Water Vampire) spritzes its ancient death curse into the face of an old, bald colleague (Boomer Tibbs, Working Girls) who immediately gets all murdery across campus. Eventually, Victor’s own killer monster (Constantin Tripes, looking like an emaciated Glenn Danzig) gets loose, too.

Okay, so story is not Leone’s bread and butter; the guy sure loves him some old-school monsters, though, and their design is so impressive, it still would be for a picture 10 times the budget. I just wish this picture moved faster. The pacing is off — and consistently, suggesting Leone cannot kill his darlings either in the script stage or the editing phase, or perhaps both. Between the two, the role as editor is the one I would rather see him cede.

Frankenstein vs. the Mummy marks the multitalent’s first true feature, as 2013’s All Hallows’ Eve — a clown-centric and genuinely creepy horror flick I really dig — is an anthology cobbled from his short films. Judging from that and this, I presume he’s not yet accustomed to the differences of long-form narrative. He’ll get there. Until then, somewhat enjoy this graveyard semi-smash. —Rod Lott

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Horror

Late Phases (2014)

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latephasesTake one blind and cranky war veteran, replace “Hoo-ah!” with howls, and you have Late Phases, arguably the best pure werewolf film since 2000’s Ginger Snaps. To be fair, that category is not exactly snapping with fierce competition — Wes Craven’s Cursed, anyone? Thought not! — so let’s broaden the genre and call it a solid suspenser.

The sight-challenged military man at the center of this hairy tale is Ambrose McKinley (Nick Damici, Stake Land), whose son (Ethan Embry, Cheap Thrills) moves him into the Crescent Bay Retirement Community despite recent reports of residents disappearing. Sure enough, Ambrose barely has time to unpack before his next-door neighbor is mauled to death by a werewolf.

latephases1Well, we know a werewolf is to blame, because director Adrián Garcia Bogliano (Penumbra) lets the viewer in on the claw-gashing action. No one else is privy to the slaughter, yet Ambrose not only somehow surmises the culprit is of the felled-by-silver-bullets variety, but also correctly predicts the next strike will arrive with the following month’s full moon. You can question the “how” all you want; it won’t change a damn thing, so may as well just go with it as Bogliano does.

That you’ll want to speaks to the Spanish filmmaker’s strengths as a director. Late Phases marks his inauguration into English-language features, and he commemorates the challenge by bringing the best of his previous work with him: the mounting tension of 2010’s Cold Sweat and the hallucinatory horror of 2012’s Here Comes the Devil. His eye considerably elevates the so-so script by Eric Stolze, whose 2012’s Under the Bed is as dull as Phases is sharp.

Strangely, its weakest link is the lead performance from Damici, who makes an already crotchety character damn near insufferable — and certainly annoying — by adhering to a needless accent exaggerated to the point of comical: “Those” become “dose”; “thing” becomes “tang.” Good thing his supporting cast is so strong, it truly supports; standouts include Manhunter’s Tom Noonan, Bitch Slap’s Erin Cummings and The Last Starfighter himself, Lance Guest.

The MVP might be David Greathouse (Jug Face), who dons the werewolf suit — that’s right: suit instead of CGI, thereby working wonders in the projection of menace through the screen. The final showdown of man vs. lycanthrope provides much of the movie’s meat; pay particular attention to the 1:15:31 mark, where the beast takes a flying, slow-motion leap toward a car. It’s begging for animated-GIF immortality. —Rod Lott

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