All posts by Louis Fowler

Mystify: Michael Hutchence (2019)

Growing up in the late ’80s, it was impossible to turn on the radio without hearing the voice of Michael Hutchence cooing an unseen paramour in tunes like “Need You Tonight” and “Devil Inside.”

It was a power that I, even as a 10-year-old, wanted desperately to possess, so much so that I even dressed up as Hutchence when my rural Texas school had a “come as your favorite celebrity” day. It was almost as good as the previous year’s George Michael costume.

A longtime INXS fan, I’ll admit that I have always had trouble reckoning the final years of Hutchence’s life, when he seemingly transformed from a likable cipher to a pretentious buffoon, more interesting for his problematic personal life than the music that had made him a vaunted superstar the world over.

It’s something that director Richard Lowenstein explores in-depth in the seductive documentary Mystify: Michael Hutchence; while the hits with his Australian band are casually mentioned, the film primarily seeks to explore the life of Hutchence outside of music, to great effect. Although it skips output like Dogs in Space for a bit too much about side project Max Q, for example, it’s a film of marked choices, most of which adds a surprising layer of humanity to the long-locked frontman.

What truly shocked me, however, was learning about Hutchence’s head injury in the early ’90s that apparently severed nerves and left him a different person, wildly erratic and often depressed. It’s this injury that is believed to have led to his 1997 suicide.

As mortifying as it all sounds, it’s really not all doom and gloom, as ultimately, Mystify is more a celebration of Hutchence as his family and friends remember him and want him to be remembered. It’s the way I want to remember him, too. —Louis Fowler

Get it at Amazon.

Jay and Silent Bob Reboot (2019)

A couple of years ago, director Kevin Smith had a heart attack that nearly killed him. Around that same time, I had a hemorrhagic stroke that nearly killed me. Since then, we both have attempted to get healthier to varying degrees, both physically and creatively.

Even though we don’t know each other and probably never will, I’ve felt a tenuous connection, creatively at least, to the man for over 20 years now. But while my creative wins and losses were kept mostly close to the chest, Smith’s highs and lows have been judiciously celebrated and gratuitously mocked by the same fair-weather fans who grew up with him.

But, as his latest flick, Jay and Silent Bob Reboot, and the subsequent roadshow tour proves, many longtime patrons still support his comedic arts and other ventures — especially the over-40 crowd, of which I am dutifully a part of — and still appreciate a thoroughly entertaining Kevin Smith film. They do exist.

As funny and fresh as the spiritual prequel, Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back, was back in 2001, Smith ably mocks the current trends of Hollywood while defiantly taking part in them; having grown much older and forced to face life, Reboot finds a much older Jay (Jason Mewes) and Silent Bob (Smith) still hanging out in front of the Quick Stop and, even among them, it’s obvious the man-child bit is getting a bit tiresome.

While retracing the steps of Strike Back by having the duo shut down a reboot of the Bluntman and Chronic franchise, Smith throws a spanner in the works by introducing Jay’s daughter, Milly (Harley Quinn Smith, Holidays). As foul-mouthed as her dad, she and a few troubled friends tag along to California to Chronic-Con, with various pitfalls along the way, such as vengeful Uber drivers, the Ku Klux Klan and the American legal system.

Mewes carries most of the film on his back, delivering a performance that delicately teeters from pornographically hilarious to philosophically heartfelt. And I know that people like to give Smith shit for casting his own daughter, but as a proud father, it’s the same thing that any of us do if we had the capabilities and, to be honest, she not that bad as Jay’s child.

Of course, the fan-friendly film ties into a world of meta-criticism as Smith also stars as himself, jorts and all, poking fun at his persona, as well as the View Askewniverse he created and, thankfully, never forgotten about. It allows him — and me, too, honestly — a chance to look back in absolute appreciation while acknowledging the fact that sometimes we all have to grow up or die trying.  —Louis Fowler

Get it at Amazon.

Night of Open Sex (1983)

The Jess Franco film Night of Open Sex is purported to be an adaptation of Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Gold-Bug.” While I’ve always found that short story to be quite boring, the nonstop parade of black rugs in this movie does enliven the tale, even if it’s a bit much after the third or fourth erotic dance scene.

As you could probably imagine, performing said nude numbers is Franco’s longtime gal pal, Lina Romay (Cries of Pleasure), as stripper Moira; she and her sleazy boyfriend manage to get mixed up with a criminal syndicate looking for some badly foil-wrapped Nazi gold, presumably from a fake mustached general who uses nudie pics as generalized maps to said fortune.

To get this information, by the way, she shockingly uses a curling iron as a red-hot tool of vaginal extraction. And as psychotically titillating as that is, let’s be honest, cult fans: You’re really here for the continual sex and skin, the only thing the film’s really got going for it.

With many explicit scenes of depraved fornication out the hairy hoo-ha, the sex truly is open on this night, from fetish-based frenching to fruit-based rape; softcore fans will have to watch the film in five-minute increments, skipping through very little plot to get to elongated scenes of Romay rolling around on the floor, licking a porno mag and masturbating.

Still, director Franco manages to cameo as a rich dude offering up some social commentary, far more than I honestly expected from a film where I just watched a man straight up punch a woman in the gut. —Louis Fowler

Get it at Amazon.

The Wizard (1989)

You know what the Academy Award-winning film Rain Man was missing? A sneak peek at the upcoming Super Mario Bros. 3 video game!

Thankfully, this was generously rectified in The Wizard, the 1989 cult film starring then teen dream Fred Savage and current indie queen Jenny Lewis as two kids taking possibly autistic little brother Jimmy (Luke Edwards) to the Nintendo-sponsored gaming competition Video Armageddon at Universal Studios.

While many proto-nerds were pumped for Batman that summer, most of the kids I knew were eager to see this quasi-promotional flick because it featured not only a glimpse of the then-unreleased new Super Mario game, but what was possibly the coolest gaming device ever … until you actually used it: the Power Glove.

I wasn’t that excited for it, though, mostly because my brother and I lost out on getting a Nintendo the previous year; while my parents were out shopping one Saturday afternoon, we decided to coat the entire side of our farmhouse in thick, red-staining mud. (Honestly, I think they just didn’t want to spend the hundred bucks on the now-ancient console and used the wet dirt as an excuse. Bastards!)

Still, The Wizard mostly holds up if you lived in that era. It’s pretty amazing, cinematically, to remember there was an internet-free period when trios of youths traveled across the country, got viciously beaten up, chased by skunky private investigators, entered national 8-bit gaming competitions and, in the case of Lewis, falsely accused men of touching her prepubescent breasts. What a time to have been alive! —Louis Fowler

Get it at Amazon.

The Beast and the Magic Sword (1983)

Despite a title that sounds like a primo Hawkwind cut from Warrior on the Edge of Time, this 1983 flick is actually a Spanish/Japanese co-production starring none other than Paul Naschy (aka Jacinto Molina) as ageless lycanthrope Waldemar Daninsky, this time on the prowl in feudal Kyoto.

Cursed by a sorceress in his native Europe to always carry the chubby mark of a throat-biting werewolf, pudgy monster-man Daninsky travels to Japan at the behest of his local alchemist to find a cure from Kian (Shigeru Amachi), a wise man with a penchant for fighting monsters and solving mysteries.

Together, Daninsky and Kian take on assassins, ninjas, samurais and, of course, a satin shirt-clad wolfman. And while all that is entertaining enough, the set piece has to be the werewolf-vs.-tiger scenario that happens about midway through, an epic fight of bloodied fur that’s on par with the living dead vs. tiger shark from Lucio Fulci’s Zombie.

When he made The Beast and the Magic Sword, Molina was bankrupt and turned to Japanese producers for an influx of cash; they gave him the money and so much more, from the inspiration to bring the lycanthrope movie to Japan to the sheer guts of having said lycanthrope punch a tiger in his man-eating mouth.

Apparently filmed at Toshiro Mifune’s studios, this 10th and, for a while, final of the Daninsky films, it’s also one of the best in the series; while the story is a bit far-fetched, this Were Wolf and Cub tale of high action and even higher production values is an extremely entertaining melding of European trash and Asian class. —Louis Fowler

Get it at Amazon.