Mechanic: Resurrection (2016)

mechanicresAs played by Jason Statham, master assassin Arthur Bishop returns from 2011’s The Mechanic, but loses his “The” along the way to Mechanic: Resurrection. It’s a sequel for which no one was clamoring, given the tepid response to the 2011 film, itself a remake of the 1972 Charles Bronson vehicle.

Presumed dead and definitely retired, Bishop lives quietly and off the radar … until he’s tracked down and approached to perform three hits for a man named Crain (Sam Hazeldine, 2012’s The Raven). Bishop refuses … until Crain’s goons kidnap Bishop’s brand-new girlfriend, Gina (Jessica Alba, Sin City: A Dame to Kill For), and hold her as incentive. This works, even though Bishop literally just met her the day before, but hey, Gina’s a social-justice peacenik who runs a shelter in Cambodia for victims of human trafficking — in other words, she’s a keeper!

mechanicres1Bishop’s hit list, in order of preferred execution:
1. an Idi Amin-style warlord (Femi Elufowoju Jr., The Legend of 1900) holed up in an impenetrable Malaysian prison.
2. a billionaire (newcomer Toby Eddington) holed up in an impenetrable Australian high-rise.
3. an arms dealer (Jason Bourne’s Tommy Lee Jones, whose craggy face sports a stoopid goatee) holed up in an impenetrable Bulgarian fortress.

Employing disguises and MacGyver-ing the shit out of situations on the fly, Bishop is one smooth operator, reminding viewers of one Ethan Hunt, debonair agent extraordinaire for the Impossible Missions Force. In a likely not-accidental move on the part of director Dennis Gansel (We Are the Night), this Resurrection wants to reinvent itself as a Mission: Impossible holdover. In fact, Resurrection’s most memorable set piece — in which Bishop cracks open the glass bottom of a cantilever pool 76 floors above ground — directly recalls Tom Cruise’s skyscraper-crawling exploits in Ghost Protocol. (Not for nothing was this scene the centerpiece of the studio’s ad campaign.)

This movie, however, is a below-average ass-kicker whose three-kill structure feels like episodes of an as-yet-nonexistent Mechanic TV series slapped together to sell as a feature overseas. With the teacher/student relationship that drove The Mechanic’s plot machinations now gone (along with Statham’s co-star, Ben Foster, Hell or High Water), so has the one thing that made that movie stand out from the action pack. Statham (Furious 7) is not to blame; as always, he delivers, which is immediately obvious in the slam-bang prologue, an asinine yet irresistible melding of Alfred Hitchcock’s North by Northwest and the goofy stunts of the 007 adventure Moonraker. What Alba is doing in such a small, thankless and insignificant part is anyone’s guess, so I’ll take one: to allow Gansel’s camera to admire her supple, cocoa-butter flesh? Yeah, it’s a gimme. —Rod Lott

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Officer Downe (2016)

officerdowneIf only Officer Downe were a phony trailer wedged into Grindhouse’s midsection and went no further, it would be perfect. Instead, it is a full feature film — one that tries the soul before tearing it. The initial feature to be directed by clown-masked Slipknot founder Shawn Crahan, it exists from elements of RoboCop, Taxi Driver and a failed Adderall placebo, yet puts onscreen what neither Paul Verhoeven nor Martin Scorsese dared: a running “Orgasm Counter” — twice, in fact, just in case you don’t get your fill of this “joke” the first time it wears out its never-extended welcome.

Based on the same-named graphic novel — emphasis on “graphic” — Officer Downe puts Kim Coates (The Last Boy Scout) in the uniform of the LAPD cop who cannot be killed, at least not permanently. Armed with a custom .85 Magnum and a God-given bad attitude, Downe battles the devilish scourges of the City of Angels, from a group of gun-running nuns (including Drag Me to Hell’s Alison Lohman) and the animal-headed criminal organization dubbed the Fortune 500 to the martial-arts dynamo Zen Master Flash (Sona Eyambe, Wolf Warrior), whose speech is out of sync with his mouth movements — a wacky idea that died 31 years ago with Police Academy 2: Their First Assignment.

officerdowne1“Gun-runnin’ nuns? Are you fucking kidding me?” asks one apoplectic character, echoing my exact sentiments.

Faithfully adapted for the screen by Downe creator Joe Casey, the movie is a candy-colored mess that carelessly yet knowingly scatters flakes of its own detritus everywhere. Crahan’s crank-addled camera is not its problem; that dubious honor falls to a failure to justify its existence, and mind you, I would have accepted “just for fun” as an answer. But it’s not fun. Gleefully infantile and all too reliant on the word “fuck,” it reminded me of the witless comics that junior-high classmates and I would draw, exquisite corpse-style, in attempts to amuse ourselves on days of standardized testing: We knew they were terrible, but we had to do something while waiting quietly for the football players and/or woodshop students to struggle to finish each section. You, however? You have a choice of a million other flicks. Like Slipknot’s popular brand of nü-metal noise, I am sure Officer Downe has its place; I am more certain I reside nowhere near it. —Rod Lott

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Cave In! (1979)

caveinWhen you take your act from the big screen to the small one, you have to shout to get noticed. That could be why producer Irwin Allen’s made-for-TV movie Cave In! arrived in NBC prime time with an exclamation point intact.

At Yellowstone’s Five Mile Caverns, the north fork of the grounds undergoes a smidge of a rock collapse. Rather than close the tourist destination until the situation is fixed, the rangers on duty decide just to keep the tour groups away from that part. After all, a couple of bigwigs are on their way: a state senator (Susan Sullivan, TV’s Castle) and a crotchety professor (Ray Milland, Frogs). Ranger Gene (Dennis Cole, Death House) even was supposed to marry one of them; you guess whom. Among the few others along for the stroll are a sad-sack cop (Leslie Nielsen, just before Airplane! sent his career soaring in a different direction) and a short-fused fugitive (James Olson, Amityville II: The Possession). Wouldn’t you know it, that group gets trapped when boulders fall all around them and block off the obvious paths.

cavein1From there, it’s all about the saintly Gene leading them to safety … just as another saintly Gene (Hackman, that is) did the same in Allen’s The Poseidon Adventure. If director Georg Fenady (Terror in the Wax Museum) had excised his characters’ flashbacks to recent points in life when they weren’t stuck in a cave — each the stuff of soap operas — then Cave In! would look brazenly more like a drier remake of Poseidon, as Gene takes the men and women through nature’s obstacle course: tight crevasses, gaps over perilous heights, a rock path through a geothermal pit, underneath a submerged rock wall and across a rickety bridge made of wood and rope, neither to be trusted.

But Allen’s brand name can be, provided an undiscriminating, no-brainer disaster fix is all you seek. Compared to his blockbuster movies, Cave In! has less money and lower star power to work with, but does hold one unique advantage: getting the job done in about half the time. —Rod Lott

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Reading Material: Short Ends 11/20/16

sinisterurgeIn Sinister Urge: The Life and Times of Rob Zombie, metal music bio specialist Joel McIver considers the career of the Renaissance man not content to constrain his talents to just one medium. If the Backbeat Books hardcover focused solely on Rob Zombie’s music — from White Zombie to his current solo act — I wouldn’t have been interested, but luckily, his forays into filmmaking are covered almost in as much depth. While the weight given to each movie is wildly off-balance, fans can learn a lot about the battles to make 2003’s controversial House of 1000 Corpses and the even more controversial 2007 remake of Halloween, and yet may be left wanting more about comparatively glossed-over subjects, such as the film-within-a-film excised from 2012’s The Lords of Salem or the clashes with David Caruso while shooting a CSI: Miami episode — I mean, tell me you don’t wanna hear everything about that! I assume this is because McIver had to draw upon existing sources since Zombie was not interviewed specifically for the book, so to judge what is there, which includes his absolutely crazy comics, I give it a thumb up rather than a middle finger.

filmfatalesWomen? Gotta love ’em. Women in spy movies? Gotta lust over ’em! And Tom Lisanti and Louis Paul’s tag-teaming of Film Fatales: Women in Espionage Films and Television, 1962-1973 damn near covers every one of the genre’s notable and/or nubile beauties: Raquel Welch, Lana Wood, Diana Rigg, Ann-Margret, Ursula Andress, Susan Hart, Honor Blackman, Tina Louise, Stella Stevens, Anne Francis … it’s the rare book that prompts the need of a cold shower. More than 100 of these starlets — seemingly half of them from James Bond adventures — are featured in their own few-pages-apiece chapters, profiling their careers overall and specific highlights from their filmographies. Generously supplemented with a nice photograph, they’re like IMDb entries with more depth and more flesh. Because of this setup, few will want to tackle Film Fatales cover to cover, opting instead to read up on the women with whom they’re most, um, “familiar.” But trust me: You’ll want to thumb through all the pages just for the photos alone. Unfortunately, so will your teenage brother/nephew/whoever, so hide it if you can. And if you cannot, good news: Originally published in 2002, this new reissue from McFarland & Company is close to half the price in paperback.

lostsoulshgAlso from McFarland, Lost Souls of Horror and the Gothic: Fifty-Four Neglected Authors, Actors, Artists and Others does just what it says. Edited by Elizabeth McCarthy and Bernice M. Murphy, this collection of biographical sketches is all over the place, but I suppose that is its point. While genre fans are likely to already know Rosemary’s Baby novelist Ira Levin, 1936 Sweeney Todd star Tod Slaughter and Just Before Dawn director Jeff Lieberman, even the most ardent enthusiasts may not be aware of the more obscure subjects, like illustrator Sidney Sime and author Marie Corelli. Bold choices include pop singer Danielle Dax, After Hours screenwriter Joseph Minion, Ghostwatch creator Stephen Volk and the team behind the Silent Hill franchise. Although the typical essay runs four pages, not even 100 times that amount would convince me that the legendary, double Oscar-winning actress Ingrid Bergman deserves a place among these Lost Souls.

bookkithThis is a review of This Is a Book About the Kids in the Hall, John Semley’s unimaginatively titled but perfectly readable biography of the venerable Canadian comedy troupe whose HBO series found a considerable cult. Published by ECW Press, the paperback delves expectedly into the Kids’ formation, dissolution and eventual reunion, but also reveals more about the members’ personal lives than I would have thought, particularly their upbringings, in which the running thread is “shitty dads.” The most interesting chapter chronicles the highly contentious making of the Kids’ first — and to date, only — feature film, the misunderstood 1996 flop Brain Candy (a movie I will defend to my dying day). Although the author inserts himself into the book too often and takes occasionally superfluous sojourns — the weak Kids in the Hall Drinking Game being the worst offender — I recommend any self-respecting KITH fan snap it up all the same, lest he or she risk a well-deserved head-crushing. —Rod Lott

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Furious (1984)

furiousUpfront, there is something you should know about Furious, lest you become just that in baffled frustration. For as little dialogue as this indie rarity holds, it contains even less of another critical storytelling element: sense. More than 16% of the movie passes before a single line is uttered; once they do emerge, the words confound with mystical hokum like, “You are now between anvil and hammer. The dove is a gentle creature, full of good. … Wisdom must come from within.”

You’re not (necessarily) high. Watching Furious just makes you feel that way.

In a showcase for his considerable martial-arts talents, Showdown in Little Tokyo supporting player Simon Rhee stars as — stretttttttttch — Simon. His sister (Arlene Montano, L.A. Streetfighters) seeks … well, something; I forget exactly what — such is a side effect of the Furious experience — but she uses a compass in which the needle has been swapped with some sort of tusk or tooth. Whatever it is, the damn thing still works … assuming she wanted to be pointed toward the astral plane of certain doom. Meanwhile, taking a break from teaching karate to half-pints, Simon embarks on a quest of his own and runs afoul of … well, everybody.

furious1The first of Furious’ many all-feet-on-deck fight sequences erupts in the atrium of an office park — aka Bad Guy Headquarters — where a woman kicks nuts and rakes her nails across men’s eyes, and where one guy looks like the chef hero of the arcade classic BurgerTime. Another rock-’em-sock-’em altercation — this one fought with twirling swords — is waged inside a Chinese restaurant frequented by old ladies eating chicken ordered off menus the size of stone tablets on which God displayed his Ten Commandments.

The physical pièce de résistance, however, pits Simon agains the evil Master Chan (Rhee’s real-life brother Phillip, the common thread woven through all four installments of the Best of the Best franchise), who possesses the power to zap his opponents into poultry — and uses it unsparingly, because c’mon, like you wouldn’t? Simon reigns supreme by ducking underneath one of Chan’s power-finger bolts, which then bounces off a mirror and back onto the power-finger bolter himself, transforming him into a pig. One might say Chan gets a taste of his own medicine, and it sure ain’t kosher!

Sound strange? Just think, I skipped over the magic demonstration doubling as the opening credits, the whispering waterfall, the talking dog, the guy whose hands spurt flames, the giant dragon head that may have been made for a church carnival, the Devo-esque New Wave rock band or the alien invasion. Yes, the alien invasion. While that nugget of info should clear up any narrative questions, it instead succeeds only in stirring more confusion into the plot pot. The oddball flick is a kung-fu extravaganza as directed by Upstream Color wunderkind Shane Carruth (but actually comes from the team of Tim Everitt and Tom Sartori): nonstop action rendered as a semi-lucid, stream-of-consciousness mindfuck. Its bizarre operatic quality is something to behold … or beware, depending upon your ability to suspend disbelief of your disbelief. —Rod Lott

Get it at Amazon.

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