Jaws 2: The Making of the Hollywood Sequel

jaws2bkFervent fans of their subject, Louis R. Pisano and Michael A. Smith have joined forces to tell the story of Jaws 2: The Making of the Hollywood Sequel, published in both hardcover and paperback by BearManor Media. To be brutally honest, the tale was told much better in another BearManor release, 2009’s Just When You Thought It Was Safe: A Jaws Companion, in which author Patrick Jankiewicz covers Universal’s entire shark-flick franchise.

To Pisano and Smith’s collective credit, they have interviewed damn near everyone still alive who was involved with the inferior (yet still beloved and highly profitable) sequel. Their passion for the finished product shows. They have uncovered a wealth of storyboards and photos from the set to satisfy the most ardent of Jaws 2 admirers. They even wrangled Carl Gottlieb, co-screenwriter of the first three films, to provide the foreword.

If only their work had gone through a judicious edit, as the book is filled with inconsistencies, repeated information and unprofessional passages.

The sloppiness is subtle at first, as a mention of Steven Spielberg’s Close Encounters of the Third Kind morphs into 3rd Kind just three paragraphs later. Little things like that start popping up with greater frequency, like spawn of the Surinam toad. If it’s not awkward phrasing (“of the filming of the original film”), it may be a run-on sentence that could have been saved with a single comma: “Prior to heading to Martha’s Vineyard to shoot the cast spent countless hours every day learning to sail under the watchful eyes of Ellen Demmy.”

Instances of the authors’ “narration” (I don’t know what else to call it) struck me as especially bizarre, as they stop to address the reader in a manner that half-assumes said reader doesn’t understand how a book works, such as the concept of progressing from one chapter to the next. For example: “You will learn much more about the Florida shoot, throughout the stories of the cast and crew, later on in the book. To mention certain things here would only spoil your upcoming reading. No one likes to know what happens before they read a book or watch a movie. Read on and we promise, you won’t be disappointed.”

And yet, I was, greatly. The major behind-the-scenes events of Jaws 2’s troubled production were covered really well in Jankiewicz’s earlier text, particularly the story ideas that never came to be, the dismissal of original director John Hancock (Let’s Scare Jessica to Death), Roy Scheider’s disgust for reprising his starring role of Chief Brody, and Scheider’s fisticuffs with replacement director Jeannot Szwarc (1984’s Supergirl).

Even if I had not read the Jankiewicz book, however, I still would have to take issue with the way such stories are presented by Pisano and Smith, which is to say “twice.” So many anecdotes are repeated in full. Take, for instance, their recounting of producers Dick Zanuck and David Brown recruiting Howard Sackler for screenplay duties. First, from page 2 (with their errors intact):

“Not dissuaded, the producers contacted Howard Sackler. Sackler, a playwright whose works include The Great White Hope, winner of both the Pulitzer Prize and the Tony Award for Best Play. A friend of Browns’, as a favor Sackler had done a re-write on Benchley’s original script for Jaws and was familiar with the material. It was Sackler who suggested that the character of Quint’s hatred toward sharks stemmed from his being a survivor of the attack on, and sinking of, the U.S.S. Indianapolis towards the end of World War II. The scene where Quint recalls the event, later re-written, in part, by Gottlieb and actor Robert Shaw, remains one of the most memorable in film history. Keen on the idea, Sackler met with Zanuck and Brown and suggested, not a sequel but a prequel. What if the film detailed the mission of the U.S.S. Indianapolis …”

Now, four chapters later, from page 53:

“Before 1975, if you knew the name Howard Sackler it was because he was the author behind the 1969 Broadway play The Great White Hope, which won Sackler the Tony and New York Drama Critics Circle award as the year’s Best Play as well as the Pulitzer Prize for Drama. A friend of film producer David Brown, Sackler accepted the offer to do a re-write on Jaws author Peter Benchley’s script for the film version of his novel. Sackler’s main contribution to the story was the back story that the shark fisherman, Quint, derived his hatred for sharks from having survived the sinking of the U.S.S. Indianapolis in July of 1945. … When Brown and his producing partner, Richard Zanuck, approached Sackler about writing Jaws 2, Sackler’s first idea was to write about the Indianapolis incident.”

Similar duplication occurs with stories of other Jaws 2 contributors: Gottlieb on pages 3 and 55; Lorraine Gary and Murray Hamilton, pages 4 and 9; Jeffrey Kramer, pages 4 and 11. I stopped keeping track, but their regurgitation is inexcusable.

The authors’ coup, as it were, is in interviewing so many of the “Amity Kids,” from both the Hancock and Szwarc regimes about their recollections. Much overlap exists here, too, yet that’s somewhat expected since they’re all talking about the same topic. Still, their answers appear to have printed verbatim, and could have been trimmed for better flow. —Rod Lott

Get it at Amazon or BearManor Media.

Cabin Fever (2016)

cabinfever16Rest easy, 2012’s The Amazing Spider-Man: No longer are you the most needless remake/reboot in cinema history. You’ve been usurped by the squishy new version of Cabin Fever.

I get that when Eli Roth’s original infected the mainstream in 2002, members of the new movie’s target audience were still voiding into Pull-Ups, but that first film hasn’t aged; it’s not like it has become irrelevant to the point of unwatchable. I’m on the record as an all-in fan of Roth’s breakthrough project, yet I approached this clone by Scavengers’ Travis Zariwny with curiosity trumping trepidation.

Like damn near everything in it, the story remains the same: Five 20-somethings on vacation in the woods become most unhappy campers when a killer virus infiltrates the local yokels’ water supply and spreads like creamy peanut butter. Except for an end-credit stinger that makes no sense, Zariwny’s additions are minute and of no consequence: selfies, hip-hop tunes, references to gamer culture, upgraded firearms, more explicit couplings and gorier renditions of the original’s most notorious pair of gross-outs: the shaving and the fingering scenes.

cabinfever161The biggest departure is the gender flip of supporting character Deputy Winston; whereas Detroit Rock City’s Giuseppe Andrews was a hoot in the 2002 role, Louise Linton (The Echo) is stunningly awful. Even with the same dialogue, she’s not the least bit funny. Overall, the movie’s loss of Roth’s perverse humor proves its biggest drawback; here, a vomited geyser of blood is no longer a punchline.

At least Zariwny solves the mystery of the meaning behind “Pancakes!” and throws in an audiovisual tip of the hat to Stanley Kubrick’s The Shining — neither enough to warrant a recommendation. The new Cabin Fever is not a bad film; it can be enjoyed. It’s just wholly unwarranted. Why choose it when Roth’s movie is still alive and kicking? There’s a word that encapsulates the entire endeavor: Why? —Rod Lott

Get it at Amazon.

Omen IV: The Awakening (1991)

omenivForget that whole Armageddon thing from the close of The Omen series’ third chapter, 1981’s not-final Final Conflict. Ten years later, 20th Century Fox dropped an enjoyable bundle of trash named Omen IV: The Awakening at America’s collective front porch, rang the doorbell and bolted to hide behind the neighbor’s bushes and snicker.

Antichrist politician (redundant) Damien Thorn is long dead, but the British telly reporter he had mad, bruising sex with in The Final Conflict was impregnated with his demon seed. The result is a baby girl whom Catholic nuns are more than eager to push into the arms of doting adoptive parents (doting optional), what with “666” embossed on the hater tot’s palm. As the York family, Faye Grant (Internal Affairs) and some guy with feathered hair (Michael Woods, TV’s NightMan) essay those roles, and … well, they’re not particularly giving it their all. If the word “shrill” didn’t exist, it would have to be invented for Grant’s performance.

omeniv1Delia, the second-generation Antichrist, is played in grade-school form by Asia Vieira (TV’s FlashForward). See if you can spot her mustache.

This Delia girl is one mean little bitch, tormenting a fat kid in her class before moving on to meatier targets, like her psychic-obsessed nanny, whom she forces out of a second-story window and onto a merry-go-round below. Delia also uses her satanic powers to cause a nosy P.I. (Michael Lerner, Barton Fink) to meet an untimely fate in the form of a swinging wrecking ball. There’s another decapitation, too, but it pales next to David Warner’s from the original Omen, probably because this so-called Awakening was made IV the Fox network (but released theatrically overseas). It was directed by two guys, Turbulence 3’s Jorge Montesi and Halloween 5’s Dominique Othenin-Girard, which should explain everything. —Rod Lott

Get it at Amazon.

L.A. Slasher (2015)

laslasherFilm critic Roger Ebert had a theory that any film featuring character actor M. Emmet Walsh can’t be all that bad. I posit a similar hypothesis in that any movie opening with the daughter of Hulk Hogan bandaged, bruised and bloodied can’t be all that bad. And yet L.A. Slasher is that bad and then increasingly worse.

Brooke Hogan is but one of the D-list “personalities” and/or tabloid fixtures cast in director/co-writer Martin Owen’s first feature and the targets of the titular, social media-savvy murderer. That he is played by NewsRadio alum Andy Dick, no stranger to the TMZ feed, is, one supposes, intended as chocolate-rich irony. The numbed narration he babbles throughout sounds like remedial Travis Bickle: “Reality TV: birthplace of the moron.”

laslasher1Clad in a white suit and a mask reminiscent of the pigment-washed Michael Jackson, this L.A. Slasher is a mover and a shaker; he has places to be, self-absorbed people to kill. On his radar for victimization are a vapid actress (Mischa Barton, TV’s The O.C.), a pop star (Drake Bell, Superhero Movie), a snotty heiress (co-writer Elizabeth Morris) and so on. Their labels double as their characters’ “names” — a creative choice that subs for true edginess, no matter how Tarantinoian the dialogue has been jerry-rigged to sound.

Owen can spruce up any given frame with enough neon to make L.A. Slasher gleam with a spiffy distraction, but no amount can cover the awful whiff of a flick trying way too hard to hang with the cool kids. Too enamored with itself to achieve dark humor, the movie may think it’s pushing the envelope, but doesn’t even get close enough to lick it. Utterly boring in its empty shell of execution, it has all the satiric bite of a retirement home resident so feeble, she has to gum her supper of creamed corn. —Rod Lott

Get it at Amazon.

Hollywood Vice Squad (1986)

hollywoodvicePenelope Spheeris’ Hollywood Vice Squad is not a sequel to Gary Sherman’s Vice Squad of four years prior. Guess no one bothered to tell Spheeris or Hollywood Vice Squad, because the movie sure plays like one, if lighter, fluffier and with 100 percent more Travolta! Sure, it’s Joey Travolta, yet the stat still stands.

After a title card promises we are about to see stories “based on actual cases” undertaken by “one of the most unusual police organizations in the country,” the film introduces its cop characters at a quick clip, almost as an afterthought. Its semblant spine is built upon a concerned Midwestern mom (Trish Van Devere, Messenger of Death) coming to Tinseltown to plea for the help of LAPD Capt. Jensen (Ronny Cox, Deliverance) in locating her daughter (The Princess Bride herself, Robin Wright, pre-Penn and in her mo-pic debut). Unbeknownst to Mom, the girl’s become a smack-addicted hooker under the employ of the town’s most fearsome pimp, logically portrayed by Frank Gorshin, aka The Riddler to TV’s Batman.

hollywoodvice1Meanwhile, the token black cop (Leon Isaac Kennedy, Penitentiary) goes undercover as a rival pimp; the token female cop (Carrie Fisher, Star Wars: The Force Awakens) is hungry for action and itching to bust her friendly neighborhood pornographer, whom she believes is using underage studs in his homemade productions; and the token Asian cop (Evan Kim, The Dead Pool) and the token Italian cop (the aforementioned Travolta, To the Limit) partner up and have all sorts of crazy adventures. There are many others, but these head the most prominent of seemingly a dozen subplots between which Spheeris’ film leaps.

Scenes of action — usually involving vehicular pursuit and inconsequential to story — hold Hollywood Vice Squad together like transparent tape. The seams of the episodic approach show, yet Spheeris (Wayne’s World) seems not to care. And nor do I, when the results are this entertaining. (Watch for the cameraman in the back of a car during an alleyway scuffle — you won’t have to watch very hard!) The quite-a-cast movie is as rough around the edges as her acclaimed Decline of Western Civilization trilogy of punk/metal documentaries and certainly as fascinated with colorful characters — some may call them “freaks” — for whom phrases like “only in Hollywood” were coined.

Set on the streets, so authentic you can smell them (starting with the Church of Scientology’s neon sign), the movie works as crime exploitation and as a time capsule of mid-1980s El Lay. Serving as markers are the Sunset Strip’s various theater marquees, luring patrons to see Rocky IV, Invasion U.S.A., Clue, Spies Like Us and Bodacious Ta-Tas. Only in Hollywood. —Rod Lott

Get it at Amazon.

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