All posts by Rod Lott

Equinox (1970)

equinoxIf not for representing the public’s first look at the work of Ray Harryhausen kids Dennis Muren and David Allen, it’s likely Equinox would be lost to the ages. It’s an early line on the résumé for so many others, too, including animator Jim Danforth, co-star Frank Bonner (later to achieve sitcom immortality as WKRP in Cincinnati’s Herb Tarlek) and even Ed Begley Jr. (as an assistant cameraman).

Produced (and padded) by schlockmeister Jack H. Harris (The Blob) from Muren and friends’ homemade effort of 1967, the film sends four teenagers to the mountains for reasons that are twofold: One couple has planned a picnic, while David (one-timer Edward Connell) has been summoned there by his geology professor (sci-fi author Fritz Leiber Jr.).

equinox1The teens enter a cave, wherein a cackling old man in plaid gives them a book filled with weird symbols, multiple languages and a backward Lord’s Prayer. Needless to say, the tome is damned, and its readers inadvertently unlock a dimensional gateway. Before long, they’re throwing rocks at a growling beast and being tormented by a winged demon. Those monsters are animated via stop-motion, whereas the not-so-jolly green giant in a loincloth is an actor made large and in charge through forced perspective.

Pay no attention to the ladies being depicted as barely smart enough to operate a camera (“Boy, you could grow up to be a real fussbudget,” says Bonner); Equinox is only interested in the couples’ ongoing tussles with the various creatures, all of which are rendered impressively, even if the art is dead by today’s standards.

Equinox has one thing going for it that bests millions of dollars worth of CGI: a DIY aesthetic. On weekends, Muren and company made that cool movie you and your neighborhood pals always talked about doing, but never had the resources or energy. Its creativity trumps its numerous imperfections, making it impossible to wish the project ill will. —Rod Lott

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The Cabinet of Caligari (1962)

cabinetcaligariWith his Psycho-tic tendencies intact, Robert Bloch puts enough of his stamp on 1962’s The Cabinet of Caligari that it feels less like a remake of the German Expressionist classic of four decades prior, The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari, and more like an in-name-only extension of the earlier work’s themes.

Written by Bloch, but directed by workmanlike TV veteran Roger Kay, the thriller switches genders to make a woman the focus. While on a carefree drive, Jane (Glynis Johns, The Vault of Horror) experiences a flat tire and is forced to walk miles to the nearest home. It’s a beaut, too — an architectural marvel belonging to one Dr. Caligari, a weird-looking dude with Abe Lincoln-style facial hair, a revolving door leading into his office, a penchant for peeping and many, many probing questions about Jane’s sexual life, history and desires.

cabinetcaligari1If she could up and leave, she would, but she’s trapped on his gated estate. She finds a sympathetic ear in Caligari’s friend, Paul (Dan O’Herlihy, RoboCop), but no means of escape. The place even has a garden maze with a fierce dog for a Minotaur. It’s enough to make her think Caligari intends to drive her insane.

The 1920 Caligari is remembered for its surreal sets, which Bloch and Kay do without until a third-act nightmare sequence; to no one’s surprise, it proves the highlight. With an assumedly low budget and first-time feature director, this update literally can’t afford to submit fully to the abstract visuals, so the amount it does offer is welcome without embarrassing itself.

Thus, the film stands on story (and a thoroughly amusing performance by Johns, who was far from the typical Hollywood starlet). It may not always click, but at least it’s about something — and about as far as they were allowed to take it for the times. That alone is admirable. —Rod Lott

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Pitch Black (2000)

pitchblackPitch Black’s plot can be summarized simply: After crash-landing on a seemingly deserted planet, a group of space travelers happens upon killer aliens that only come at night … and a solar eclipse is about to occur. Indeed, that happens, but once it does, nothing is built upon it.

Radha Mitchell (Silent Hill) is Capt. Carolyn Fry, who leads her shipwrecked charges against apparently insurmountable odds. One of her passengers is the bald, bass-voiced Vin Diesel (The Fast and the Furious), portraying Riddick, some sort of super-criminal with silver eyes who, as luck would have it, can only see in the dark. He’s the one mean guy who you know will find it in his heart to turn nice somewhere during Act 3, at least long enough to save some people.

pitchblack1Our survivors find an abandoned ship they believe could be used to escape, if only they can transfer the power source from their now-useless one to this as-yet-unharmed one. As they’re doing so, darkness comes, and so do the aliens. As is rote with today’s technology, the aliens are total creations of CGI, so they never look real, as if you get to see them much at all. Most sightings of these creatures are limited to flying swarms of them, which makes them look like toy jacks. Standing still, they kind of resemble black woodpeckers. Either way, they’re not scary.

Although beloved by enough people to spawn sequels, Pitch Black is just plain void of suspense or imagination — a description befitting of every tired Alien retread since 1979. Directed and co-written by David Twohy (The Arrival), it aims to be arty, given its limited color palette, barren setting and clunky dialogue.

Mitchell can be commended for not patterning the vulnerable Fry after Sigourney Weaver. Diesel, however, is goofy — all attitude, zero ability. Not that he’s given much to do, other than run fast, bare his muscles and shave his head using a shiv and motor oil. Before the story even really gets rolling, Pitch Black reveals itself to be a cheap-looking (despite $23 million), hair-above-amateur production whose only thrill for this viewer arrived when it finally ended. Ditch Pitch. —Rod Lott

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Aftershock (2013)

aftershockShould you choose to take a wine tour of Chile, pack a football helmet and an autograph book — the former in case of earthquakes; the latter because you just might run into Selena Gomez. That Spring Breakers starlet makes an uncredited cameo in Aftershock, a shaky quake pic more interested in a retching scale than the Richter one.

For the first third, director Nicolás López follows our tourists as they party hearty in an underground night club accessible via cable car. A couple of sisters bicker; one guy coaches another in the art of chasing tail; but if there’s a front-and-center character, it’s Gringo, played by Eli Roth (Inglourious Basterds), who also contributed to the screenplay and co-produces.

aftershock1Roth’s creative stamp becomes evident once the republic starts to rumble. That’s when the Irwin Allen situation grows quite Hostel. Clubgoers are flattened by chunks of cement; flesh is penetrated by sharp objects. Against the grisly carnage, one guy’s search for his hand is played for laughs. Why, it’s enough to make a girl vomit, and we get that, too.

Once back above ground, our survivors find more obstacles awaiting their struggle to find safety: a riot, a tsunami, flames, rape, local gangs — and Gringo doesn’t speak any Spanish! ¡Ay, caramba! It all becomes unpleasant, but really, isn’t that Aftershock’s reason for being? Charlton Heston would be appalled, which is one argument for giving it a try. —Rod Lott

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The Frozen Ghost (1945)

frozenghostThe fourth of Universal Pictures’ six-film Inner Sanctum Mystery series, The Frozen Ghost stars a lean Lon Chaney Jr. as mentalist Gregor the Great. He puts on bravura stage shows in which he hypnotizes his assistant/fiancée, Maura (Evelyn Ankers, reuniting with Chaney after The Wolf Man), into being able to read the thoughts and Social Security numbers of audience members.

One clearly soused skeptic thinks it’s a whole lotta phooey, so Gregor invites him onstage. Unfortunately, the drunk dies while under Gregor’s trance. Although doctors dub it a case of natural causes, Gregor believes he killed the guy with his eyes, so he breaks his engagement and wallows in guilt.

frozenghost1He hopes to begin life anew at a wax museum, of all places, but the beware-the-stare problem rises again. “Tragedy is determined to follow me wherever I go,” bemoans poor Gregor. As with all the hourlong Inner Sanctum pictures, what seems supernatural is easily explained by the unremarkable end.

While the museum boasts likenesses of Cleopatra, Genghis Khan, Napoleon, Atilla the Hun, Lady Macbeth and the head of Marie Antoinette, the setting is not used to its full potential. Don’t expect the creepiness of 1933’s Mystery of the Wax Museum. Also, don’t expect a ghost — frozen, thawed, room-temp or otherwise. —Rod Lott

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