Confessions of a Police Captain (1971)

confessionpoliceIn a performance finer than required, an apelike Martin Balsam (Psycho) stars as unscrupulous police commissario Bonavia in Confessions of a Police Captain, a Eurocrime effort better known to denizens of the wonderful world of bargain-bin DVD collections as Bad Cop I. The renaming forces a nonexistent connection to Bad Cop II, which is actually 1983’s unrelated Corrupt. Got that?

Get this: Bonavia gets into hot water when he orders the release of mental patient, knowing the kook will go try to kill a crooked construction company owner. The loony tries and fails, thus opening up a whole can of worms for our cap’n — so much so that he may end up in prison, where he would risk having his food gets spat in and/or his tummy getting shivved during movie time.

confessionpolice1Directed and co-written by Amityville II: The Possession’s Damiano Damiani, Confessions makes for a pretty competent policier, although its surplus of characters eventually wears the viewer thin. The film is very ’70s and very Italian, which is exactly what I liked about it. Sometimes incongruity — e.g. a disturbing ending against a swanky Riz Ortolani score — just works. —Rod Lott

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The Trial of the Incredible Hulk (1989)

trialhulkOne year after The Incredible Hulk Returns debuted to huge ratings, NBC sent the not-so-jolly green giant to court — basically in name only — for The Trial of the Incredible Hulk. Just as cheap, rushed and unintentionally jokey as its predecessor, this telefilm follow-up promoted star Bill Bixby to the director’s chair as well. (All those episodes of Wizards and Warriors paid off! Next stop: Blossom!)

Both Bixby and Lou Ferrigno remain in the roles they originated — Bruce David Banner and Hulk, respectively — in 1978 for CBS’ long-running Incredible Hulk TV series. Shortly after Trial convenes, Banner is arrested for Hulking out on the subway to defend a woman from two thugs. Being a dirt-poor drifter, Banner is assigned a free lawyer. (Think back to when you were last arrested; you were offered the same deal.) Representing Banner is a blind attorney-at-law named Matt Murdock (Rex Smith, Transformations), who, as luck would have it, is also a superhero, spending his nights as Daredevil.

trialhulk1Yet as was the case with the less-than-mighty Thor in Return, this Daredevil is not quite the one we know and love from the decades of Marvel Comics. It looks as if they forgot to make the Daredevil costume and didn’t realize it until the day of shooting, and just covered him in black pantyhose to compensate. Despite such handicaps, he still kicks butt, and leaves his victims with a dose of goody-two-shoes advice like, “Read a book!” (All that’s missing is the Peacock network’s “The More You Know” tag.)

The woman Banner defended is kidnapped by the thugs’ secret evil organization, headed up by the Kingpin (rotund Raiders of the Lost Ark fan fave John Rhys-Davies), who flies away at the end in some crazy jet boat, representing one of the worst optical effects seen on prime-time TV. Oh, and other than a dream sequence that sees Hulk co-creator Stan Lee as a bewildered juror, no trial takes place. —Rod Lott

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Phobia (1980)

phobiaI have a morbid fascination with the efforts of classic-era Hollywood directors who, post-Exorcist’s Oscar and box-office glory, tried their hand at modern horror, too. Perhaps they were always drawn to the genre; perhaps they just wanted to show the big studios that they, too, “could stay hip with the kids.” Whatever their reasoning, they pretty much sucked at it: Arthur Hiller’s Nightwing, John Frankenheimer’s Prophecy and, of course, John Boorman’s most infamous Exorcist II: The Heretic.

Exhibit D, fittingly: Phobia, courtesy of John Huston, the legendary director of certifiable, for-the-ages gems as The Maltese Falcon, The African Queen and The Treasure of the Sierra Madre. Today, there’s good reason Phobia remains forgotten — or perhaps repressed.

phobia1Fresh off a four-year stint playing the top half of TV’s Starsky and Hutch, a sleepy and ineffectual Paul Michael Glaser stars as Dr. Peter Ross, a psychiatrist specializing in helping patients conquer their fears, albeit through highly controversial methods. For example, scared of snakes? Dr. Ross will make you handle one. Terrified of heights? Prepare to traverse the girders of an under-construction building like a trapeze wire. The doc’s problems begin when he takes an agoraphobe prone to severe panic attacks, plops her at the corner of a bustling city street and orders her to walk to his nearby home. When she arrives and he’s not there, a file cabinet goes kablooey, killing her instead of the intended target: Ross. Shit happens.

Over and over it happens — patient after patient, each while confronting his or her own fears — yet all at a ho-hum, humdrum pace. Although working from a story by genre vets Gary Sherman (Raw Meat) and Ronald Shusett (Alien), Huston has no grasp of suspense in this realm, as if it must be treated entirely different from the ways of film noir. (It doesn’t.) Was Huston desperate or just drunk? Either way, the misbegotten, near-worthless Phobia embodies one character’s line of disdainful dialogue: “This whole thing smells to high heaven!” Yep. —Rod Lott

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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

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