All posts by Rod Lott

Video Wars (1984)

Video Wars is so obscure that, 27 years after its release — in a rented room at the Holiday Inn, I’m guessing — it didn’t even exist, according to its absence from the Internet Movie Database. Trust me: It was for the best.

The globe is being brainwashed by one Prince Radolpho … Rapemonger? Rightmonger? (The audio is horrible, so I can’t tell what the fat villain’s last name is.) Anyway, his aim is to control the destiny of anyone anywhere in the world, and requires a trillion-dollar annual allowance from America. To combat this scourge, the U.S. government has a plan that’s “too secret, too sensitive, too everything … we’ll have to field a special team.”

That’s comprised mostly of one guy (George Diamond) who looks like Joe Mantegna’s second cousin. He’s trained in “subversive activities” and must find Prince Radolpho’s computer terminal. To do this, he’s given some gadgets that look assembled from various cast-off parts in Radio Shack’s bargain bin. This film’s Q rattles them off: “a rotational axis with combined sensor … and last but not least, your acid pen.” Replies our hero, “I hope it doesn’t leak in my pocket!”

This leads to a gaggle of Russian female agents, many of whom are real hatchet-faces; multiple aerobics sequences; a snowman with spy-camera eyes; a chase on snowmobiles; and the can’t-miss pick-up line “You like chicken, baby? Well grab a wing.” Take none of this as a recommendation. This no-budget spy comedy is worse than an eye stab.

The whole video game element is pure gimmick, having very little to do with the actual movie. Early on, there’s a scene in which a room full of businessmen are playing a game, and they’re taking to the joysticks as if they’re masturbating. And toward the end, there’s an arcade contest where, judging by the screens shown, the object is to look at 8-bit patterns of random-size squares. That’s about it. Do not insert coin to continue. —Rod Lott

Murder at 1600 (1997)

The White House whodunit Murder at 1600 came out about the same time as the similarly themed Clint Eastwood film Absolute Power, which was also about a philandering president and his dead mistress. Eastwood may have the critical heat, but I prefer this pulpier, more action-oriented version.

Wesley Snipes — then the king of other enjoyable-yet-middling vehicles like The Art of War, Passenger 57 and U.S. Marshals — is a D.C. detective, named Regis of all things! He’s called to the White House when a pretty young employee is found dead in the bathroom following a round of hot, late-night sex. His investigation is compromised by the White House’s unwillingness to participate, despite him being assigned a Secret Service liaison (Diane Lane).

What exactly is the president’s administration covering up? And for whom? You’ll find out toward the end of a slightly bloated running time. Dennis Miller co-stars as Snipes’ co-worker, and while he may have been a great comedian once upon a time, he’s grating as a dramatic actor, so it’s hard not to applaud when he takes a bullet. —Rod Lott

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So Close (2002)

So Close is the movie that McG’s Charlie’s Angels should have been. It’s slick, it’s cool, it’s three girls kicking ass who — and this is the big difference — are not braying-donkey annoying. Shu Qi (The Transporter) and Zhao Wei (Shaolin Soccer) are two siblings who have been working as an assassin-for-hire team ever since their parents were brutally murdered. Wei sits at home with a super-decked-out, eye-in-the-sky, satellite-linked computer spy system, feeding Qi info as she carries out the actual hits.

The opening sequence is a stunner, with Qi carrying out a hit on a wealthy computer CEO and shooting her way through the enormous office building as a Carpenters-soundalike version of Burt Bacharach’s “Close to You” plays over the structure’s PA system. If this doesn’t suck you in to the film’s offbeat charms, nothing will.

Hot on their trail is cop Karen Mok (Black Mask), which results in a couple of great chase scenes. But to further complicate matters, Qi’s falling in love and Wei’s taking a liking to pulling triggers, something her big sis does not want her to do.

Directed by Hong Kong choreographer Cory Yuen (The Transporter), the high-tech flick takes some surprising turns and doesn’t follow the usual formula that your standard Hollywood action movie would, especially one with a female-led cast. The three leads are all engaging — particularly the sister act of Qi and Wei — proving that sometimes, women can do these things better than the men. So Close, so good! —Rod Lott

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Land of the Minotaur (1976)

Hi, folks, and allow me to personally welcome you to Greece, the Land of the Minotaur! I’ll be your tour guide, pointing out some interesting sights along our route, and I’m happy to answer any questions that may arise! Don’t be shy! That’s what they pay me for!

If you look to your left, you’ll see two guys and one lovely young woman. For the life of me, I can’t tell the men apart because their hair is so long. Damn hippies! Ha-ha! But I kid. Look to your right, and you’ll see some local youths playing soccer, as they are wont to do. Watch it, you scamps!

Look! Over there, emerging from the car, it’s Mr. Peter Cushing, ladies and gentlemen! He’s Baron Corofax and he owns the castle o’er yonder, which is one of the oldest pagan sites in the country! And hey, let’s all give a hearty wave to Donald Pleasence as Father Roche! Hi, Father! Looks like he’s got a lot on his mind. This whole village is possessed by the devil, you see!

Just between you and me, folks, it’s easy to tell who’s in the satanic cult ’round here: It’s the people in the blue, silky KKK outfits! Hi-oooh! Amiright? We’re coming up to our final stop, the fabled giant minotaur. That’s half-man, half-bull, if you were paying attention in school! Now, you’ll notice he shoots fire out of his nostrils, but if you local reaaaal close, you’ll see his weenus! Go on, he’s not shy!

Did you hear Father Roche just now? He said, “We are up against a force that no traditional weapon has the power to destroy!” He’s weird that way. I just don’t trust the balds, but that’s neither here nor there. Anyway, on to the gift shop, ladies and gentleman! —Rod Lott

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