Jules Verne’s Mysterious Island (2010)

Two years before Journey 2: The Mysterious Island made a box-office splash, Jules Verne’s Mysterious Island did not. That’s the rosiest way to put it. While both films are very loose adaptations of Verne’s 1874 novel, this is the one nobody wanted or wants to see because it’s in the other one where The Rock bounces berries off his pecs — in 3-D!

In 1865, a Civil War unit led by Capt. Cyrus Harding (Lochlyn Munro, Freddy vs. Jason) hops into a hot-air balloon, hits a ripple in time, and crash-lands in today’s times on the title isle, which is now located in the Bermuda Triangle. The befuddled crew runs across the modern-day, resourceful beauty Julia Fogg (Gina Holden, Saw 3D: The Final Chapter) and her injured, airheaded sister, Abby (Susie Abromeit, Battle: Los Angeles).

Eventually, the girls tell the boys that, hey, they’re not in 19th-century Virginia anymore! Dialogue like this ensues:
• “What the heck’s a aeroplane?”
• “Colonel, you can’t seriously be listenin’ to a girl and a colored. They cain’t vote!”
• “What’s on yer face? It looks like you got Indian warpaint!”

There’s also a song that begins “‘Course I love yer biscuits / And your gravy, too,” but that’s beside the point.

Anyway, as these folks just wander about sandy beaches, the Syfy movie is kind of like the TV series Lost, but without the critical acclaim and massive fandom. In its place are invading pirates, killer bushes that growl like dogs, an active volcano and, as Capt. Harding puts it, “An octopus. A giant octopus.”

A turd. A giant turd. —Rod Lott

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The Puppet Monster Massacre (2010)

Mad Nazi scientist Dr. Wolfgang Wagner invites a handful of people to participate in a most interesting experiment for a chance at $1 million: Survive a night in the infamous Wagner Mansion, which will prove more problematic than they ever could guess, what with the ferocious creature he’s created and whatnot.

Among the game players are our protagonist, young Charlie Hawkins, who’s so scared he once peed his pants in a corn maze; a crude, drunken Irish hooligan and his slutty Goth girlfriend, who are introduced to us mid-copulation; and, best of all, a know-it-all horror nerd/virgin with a face full of zits and a pronounced lisp. As Sesame Street-friendly as Charlie and the gang look, this one’s not for the kids.

The story structure of The Puppet Monster Massacre allows for a maximum amount of gags in 70 minutes, including funny bits on parasite incubation, the occult arts, flatulent rabbits and digs at The Shining, Psycho and Alien. Thankfully, not all of the humor depends upon the scatological for easy laughs; however, some of the raunchy stuff is inspired just enough to work: “Did I ever tell you about the time I punched Adolf Hitler in his ding-ding?”

With what I presume is a tiny budget, writer/director Dustin Mills (Theatre of the Deranged II) makes the most of what little it has, relying on good ol’ fashioned imagination to get the job done. I love the fact that something like this exists, even if the stretches between the amusing moments elongate as it goes. —Rod Lott

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Midnight Movie (2008)

In the late 1980s, the short-lived The Popcorn Kid was your basic multicamera, laugh-tracked CBS sitcom. Set in a movie theater, it focused on the camaraderie among the young employees. Some 20 years later, Midnight Movie reminded me of that series, except none of The Popcorn Kid’s six episodes featured someone getting his or her heart literally ripped out.

Midnight Movie’s simple plot is not unlike Lamberto Bava’s Demons, with moviegoers trapped in a theater late one night, chased by killer demons. Now substitute “killer demons” with “a raging lunatic,” and voila! Said nutcase is Radford (Arthur Roberts, 1988’s Not of This Earth), a one-time B-movie director who’s in an insane asylum after becoming unhealthily obsessed with his 1970s horror cheapie — so obsessed that it pushes him to a literal bloodbath, slaughtering the staff and making his escape, never to be seen again …

… until a few years later, when a single-screen theater is showing his film that very night, to an audience of less than a dozen. They’re into the badness of it all, and then they become part of it. One by one, they’re killed by the film’s masked madman, and their deaths are projected seamlessly as if part of that original black-and-white movie; their friends sure are slow to realize what’s going on — amused where we would be apoplectic.

A movie-within-in-a-movie concept is always welcome, but a picture must have something more than just that, or it risks gimmickry. Because all but a slim fraction of director Jack Messitt’s cast are woefully amateurish, Midnight Movie embraces that risk. Besides, can’t gimmicks be a blast?

Absolutely, and Messitt gets a charge from viewers who remember the joys of old-school theaters, where one or two titles played, tops, making the experience more communal. Ironically, while widening your viewing options, multiplexes have sapped the fun out of going to the movies (and don’t get me started on audience members’ phones). It’s not what it used to be. Midnight Movie also celebrates the conventions of the B picture, becoming every bit as predictable as its cat-and-mouse chase in an enclosed setting, but with the added, contemporary bonus of bright and colorful bloodletting.

After a while, its repetitive nature may wear on you, but at least this slasher dares to do something different from the get-go. That it can’t entirely pull that off is more to blame on its minuscule budget than anything else. For those viewing the DVD’s alternate “Killer Cut,” note that the opening credits cite Mr. Radford as editor. That’s your first clue not to take this flick too seriously. —Rod Lott

Get it at Amazon.

Den of Thieves (2018)

With Den of Thieves, debuting director Christian Gudegast has made a heist sandwich, with bookended shootouts subbing for slices of Wonder Bread. Having penned the 2016 action sequel London Has Fallen, Gudegast sticks with the ingredient he knows best: Gerard Butler.

The Geostorm star takes the lead as “Big Nick” O’Brien, a detective with the L.A. County Sheriff’s Department. As the head of its Major Crimes division, O’Brien is a roguish bender and breaker of rules — your basic bundle of unshaven swagger. He also operates within that swath of gray that allows him to act like the criminals he earns a salary to catch; the movie more than suggests the only difference between O’Brien and his prey is the badge — in fact, it underlines it in a finale that literally sticks a label on the lawman (“SHERIFF”) to distinguish him from the other armed tough guy in a bulletproof vest.

The other armed tough guy in a bulletproof vest is Merrimen (Pablo Schreiber, 2018’s Skyscraper), a freshly sprung felon who wastes no time planning the heist of a lifetime: robbing the Federal Reserve Bank of Los Angeles of millions in untraceable cash headed for the shredder. Stuck between the two men is Donnie (O’Shea Jackson Jr., Straight Outta Compton), a member of Merrimen’s crew forced to be an informant to O’Brien.

Playing like Michael Mann’s Heat shorn of its great soundtrack and Oscar-caliber performances, Den of Thieves could be called Canned Heat. With swinging-dick posturing and testosterone squeezed from each sprocket of film, it also could be called the greatest David Ayer movie David Ayer did not make, presumably because he was too busy counting his Netflix bucks. Meanwhile, Gudegast swoops in and shoves an overstuffed crime epic onto our plate, complete with an ending that dares to go full Keyzer Söze. We didn’t ask for Den, and it sure didn’t look good, but once we took a bite … we liked it! Hey, Mikey! —Rod Lott

Get it at Amazon.

Ghoulish: The Art of Gary Pullin

While Gary Pullin might not be a (haunted) household name just yet, horror fiends will instantly recognize his work from his numerous terrifying Rue Morgue magazine covers, with perhaps the most esoteric of fearful fandoms also familiar with many of his wish-fulfillment movie poster prints that have graced everything from theatrical reissues to home video slipcovers.

Whether you know him or don’t, there’s Ghoulish: The Art of Gary Pullin for all of you burgeoning beasties and experienced exorcists out there; from 1984 Publishing, it’s a deadly deluxe book that, with every paper-cutting page turn, features the most maleficent of Pullin’s blood work, from early drawings of Freddy Krueger and Dr. Phibes to more recent posters for evil events such as Texas Frightmare Weekend and the Days of Dead convention.

The text, written by April Snellings, fills us in on much of Pullin’s life, from his early monster-kid inkling to his current projects as a famous monster of filmland. It’s a great read and Pullin seems like the kind of guy you can eat a raw steak with. Or maybe a grilled steak. Whichever comes first, I guess.

With a smart stab of pop culture relevance in every single clean and clear drawing of death that Pullin does, it’s hard not to sit here, reading the devilish tome and not be wishing there were posters of just about every bloody piece of his available to cover every inch of wall space in your bedroom, den or torture chamber. It might be Ghoulish in title, but it’s great reading in practice. —Louis Fowler

Get it at Amazon.

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