All posts by Rod Lott
Stuck on You (2003)
I figure any movie that begins with a Pixies song can’t be all that bad. And Stuck on You isn’t. It’s another funny, sweet and politically uncorrect (but never demeaning) film from the Farrelly brothers, still best known for hanging semen from Ben Stiller’s ear in There’s Something About Mary.
The joke is that brothers Bob and Walt Tenor (Matt Damon and Greg Kinnear) are Siamese twins. They seem fairly well-adjusted and are popular around Martha’s Vineyard, where they make a living flipping burgers. But Walt is a budding thespian, currently putting on a one-man show about Truman Capote. When the acting bug bites hard — despite Bob’s penchant for on-stage panic attacks — the boys move to Hollywood so that Walt can chase his dream.
Unfortunately, the market for conjoined twins is limited in Tinseltown, and they’re the laughingstock of every agency they set their four feet in. Through luck and sneaky circumstances, Walt lands the male lead in a new detective series opposite Cher (playing herself), and although the director has difficulty keeping Bob out of frame, the series becomes a hit. Success has a price, however, taking a toll on Bob’s relationship with his Asian Internet girlfriend while limiting Walt’s acting opportunities. Eventually, Bob and Walt wonder if separation is the answer to their problems or just another problem to add to the list.
The Farrellys know how to mix outrageous humor with an endearing sweetness. Whereas most comedies just play mean, they can generate big laughs that often originate in the heart. They have a genuine love for their characters, whether they be conjoined twins, mentally handicapped busboys, sleazy Hollywood managers or — most frightening of all — Cher.
Damon is good, but Kinnear is terrific, with a semi-smarmy presence and expert comic timing. He’s really underrated as a comic actor. In the eye-candy role, Eva Mendes shows a real flair for playing a hot, dumb babe with a bosom with mesmeric powers. Seymour Cassell does an amusing turn as Walt’s two-bit agent, who lives in a retirement home, rides around on a motorized scooter and sports one of the lamest toupées ever seen onscreen. —Rod Lott
Sisters of Death (1977)
Seven years after their pledge sister died during an initiation-ceremony round of Russian roulette — hey, shit like that’ll get you kicked off campus — five sorority sisters are invited to attend a mysterious reunion in a seemingly empty ranch house in the middle of nowhere, in Sisters of Death.
Now let’s see: a reunion for just five people? Seven years later? In a far-off locale, with no apparent host? And not one of them bats a fake eyelash to find this the least bit suspicious?
As they soon learn, the host with the most is the flute-playing father of the dead girl, and he wants the life of the trigger girl as repayment. But which of the girls — Playboy Playmate Claudia Jennings among them — did the deed? Oh, well, if he has to kill them one by one to find out, so be it.
So the girls run helplessly around the cavernous house, rooms of which house all kinds of creepy crawlies, like spiders, snakes and Beverly Hills 90210’s Joe E. Tata. The shock ending comes out of nowhere, really, but I have to admire it. —Rod Lott
Escape from Death Row (1973)
As the opening credits immediately inform you, this Italian crime film stars Lee Van Cleef. Midway through these credits, it informs you again, flashing “STARRING LEE VAN CLEEF” on the screen several times in rapid succession, as if to say, “Can you believe it? How lucky are we? I mean, c’mon! Lee Van friggin’ Cleef!”
Van Cleef plays a gangland boss who gets himself thrown in prison for some reason (perhaps the car bomb rigged to detonate with the insertion of an 8-track tape?), then he wants out, but is sent to death row, so he has to break out to get revenge on the goombahs who killed his brother.
He does all of this with the help of an easygoing criminal fella who wears a wide array of gawdy suspenders, has a girlfriend with large Italian breasts and positively has a nonsexual crush on Van Cleef. The guy is played by The French Connection‘s Tony Lo Bianco, but he acts like Tony Danza. Hell, he should be Tony Danza, playing Tony Danza. His character, in time-honored Tony Danza fashion, is even named Tony! Tony Danza and Lee Van Cleef — oh, Lord, what we shall never have …
I can’t say I understood all of Escape from Death Row (HOLY SHIT! STARRING LEE VAN CLEEF!) but for its sheer, goofy Italianness — and its inclination to reprise its haunting horn-and-piano theme every two minutes — I sure enjoyed it. One minute, Lee is tossing a live hair dryer into an enemy’s bathwater; the next minute, they’re being chased by the police in a pursuit so wacky and pratfall-laden, the only thing it lacks is Jerry Reed and a CB. —Rod Lott
The Raven (2012)
Edgar Allan Poe, father of the detective story, plays detective in The Raven, neither based on the iconic poem nor a remake of the 1963 Roger Corman adaptation. Instead, the box-office bomb from V for Vendetta director James McTeigue draws on a handful of the master of horror’s work to weave a “what if?” tale depicting his final days.
In 1849 Baltimore, a double homicide is discovered bearing uncanny similarities to the locked-room puzzle of Poe’s “The Murders in the Rue Morgue.” At first, Poe himself (John Cusack) is suspected — then another deadly crime occurs, this one to the razor-sharp tune of “The Pit and the Pendulum.” With Poe helping lead detective (Luke Evans, Immortals) to crack the clues, the case gets awfully personal when Poe’s beloved (Alice Eve, She’s Out of My League) is kidnapped by the killer.
For Poe fans especially (provided they aren’t purists so picky about many liberties taken), the premise is irresistible, also incorporating elements of “The Masque of the Red Death,” “The Premature Burial,” “The Cask of Amontillado” and “The Tell-Tale Heart.” Cusack portrays Poe as a man whose raging ego is matched only by his alcoholism — a bit over-the-top, but more lively than the expected timid take.
The Raven‘s overall effectiveness is clouded by an elongated second act, but production design and costuming are all appropriately Gothic and, therefore, tops. McTeigue appears to have recycled all the obviously CGI blood directly from his equally misunderstood Ninja Assassin. —Rod Lott