Action

Tarzan, the Ape Man (1981)

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tarzanapeYour first sign that John Derek’s Tarzan, the Ape Man is the legendary bungle in the jungle as reputed: the film’s literal first image, of MGM’s iconic Leo the Lion opening his mouth to emit that famous growl … only to be overdubbed by that old-school Tarzan yell.

Set in 1910, this adventure of Edgar Rice Burroughs’ most lucrative literary cash cow focuses on Jane (Bo Derek, the director’s wife), a blonde-haired, blue-eyed beauty with sun-kissed cheeks who has come to West Africa to find the father she’s never known. He’s James Parker (Richard Harris, Gladiator), an eccentric explorer who’s somewhat of an elephant whisperer and completely a “first-class bastard.” Jane joins his expedition to bond.

Forty-five minutes in, Mr. Derek finally gives his audience what they want: Tarzan and tits. The two (three?) elements arrive in the same scene, as a bathing Jane is threatened by a lion (this one growls in its own voice), yet saved by Tarzan (Miles O’Keeffe, Sword of the Valiant) — a putative half-man/half-ape, James warns his daughter. James wants to capture and stuff the feral man; Jane wants to be stuffed by him. Because children do the opposite of their parents’ wishes, a grateful Jane lets the mute Tarzan feel her up. Somewhere, Rosie the Riveter weeps.

Acting as his own cinematographer, Mr. Derek photographs his spouse as if everyone wants to bed her. And back then, millions did; they just didn’t see the need to pay for it when there was a perfectly good Playboy tie-in pictorial awaiting back home. Thus, Tarzan, the Ape Man died on the vine, putting out the fire kindled just two years earlier, when Blake Edwards’ 10 made Bo an overnight sex symbol, despite those godawful cornrows.

The spouses’ Tarzan collaboration is a laughable, misguided exercise in ego-fluffing, nipple-tweaking and monkey-loving. Its opening suggests grand-scale prestige; its comic-book transitions promise something pulpy; and the finished product is neither. Keeping O’Keeffe quiet was a move for the best, but giving Bo the lion’s share of dialogue was asking for it. As if to compete with the “scenery” for attention, Harris makes sweeping gestures with his arms as he shouts his lines.

All that limb flailing counts as the most (nonsexual) action the movie achieves. Mr. Derek squanders a dandy sequence in which Jane is embraced by a deadly python, and it’s Tarzan to the rescue! But in slow-motion — so slow, the serpent could have been a puppet. So could O’Keeffe. Him Tarzan; Bo Jane; you bored. —Rod Lott

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Horror

House II: The Second Story (1987)

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houseIIHouse is one of my favorite horror films of the 1980s; House II: The Second Story, I’d like to forget.

Although the two movies share the same screenwriter (Ethan Wiley, who also upgraded to the director’s chair), House II shares none of the fun or cleverness of the 1986 original. All they have in common is that they take place in a house and co-star a supporting character from Cheers. This is one of the rare cases where I wish the sequel were exactly like the first one, because then it would be good; what’s here is something that looks like it was made for 10-year-olds, as the move from an R rating to a PG-13 attests.

Here entirely unappealing, Ayre Gross (Soul Man) stars as Jesse, an orphan who moves into the home that has been in his family for generations. Rummaging through old photos, he decides to dig up his great-great-grandfather and see if his coffin contains a lost, valuable bejeweled skull. It does, and guess what? The old coot himself is still alive! “I’m a 170-year-old fart,” says wrinkled Gramps (scene-stealing Royal Dano, Spaced Invaders).

houseII1Jesse carries on and has wacky adventures with an annoying pal, a cheap-looking prehistoric bird puppet and a dog that looks like a worm (as opposed to a dog with worms). Nothing much happens, other than John Ratzenberger showing up as an electrician and discovering an alternate universe within the wall, and yet the film still plods on for an hour and a half. The scares — and they were there — of House have moved out to make room for silly comedy that simply isn’t funny.

At least House II is a cut above the theater-skipping House IV, but hell, what isn’t? —Rod Lott

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Sci-Fi & Fantasy

The Son of Kong (1933)

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sonkongNo sane person can dispute the incredible craftsmanship of 1933’s King Kong … just as no sane person can hold its sequel, The Son of Kong, at any point near that level.

Directed by Ernest B. Schoedsack (later to helm the 1949 Kong imitator Mighty Joe Young, this brief, lame, poorly acted follow-up seems incredibly rushed, which may explain the sheer amount of padding in the front half. The flimsy story has Denham (Robert Armstrong, 1932’s The Most Dangerous Game), now penniless due to that whole Empire State Building fiasco, being suckered in to a return expedition to Kong Island. Along the way, he picks up a banjo-strummin’ carnival hussy (Helen Mack, 1935’s She), who is a poor substitute for Fay Wray.

sonkong1As soon as they set foot on the island, the crew comes across some ooga-booga natives, a giant bear, a couple of dinosaurs and ultimately a hungry sea serpent. Oh, and of course, Son of Kong, whose white fur makes him look like the first cousin of the Abominable Snowman in that Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer cartoon. He’s well-animated, but needlessly comical.

This Kong is friendly from the get-go, posing no threat to the humans, but the stereotypical Chinese cook — in fact, that’s the character’s name: Chinese cook! — carries a kitchen machete just in case. Lil’ Kong protects the gang and shows them some treasure before drowning in a flood. Ain’t life a bitch? —Rod Lott

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Martial Arts

Kiss of the Dragon (2001)

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kissofthedragonOne year after Romeo Must Die proved to Hollywood that, yes, that spry little Asian from Lethal Weapon 4 could put butts in seats, Jet Li followed up that success with Kiss of the Dragon. The Franco-American actioner set in gay Paree, written and produced by The Professional’s Luc Besson, is of much higher quality.

In Kiss, Li — looking vaguely like Paul “Pee-wee Herman” Reubens — is Liu Jian, a Beijing cop sent to France to help the local authorities nab a Chinese bad guy. (The reasons are cloudy, but no matter.) They set up surveillance in a swank hotel, watching the guy gets his kicks with a coked-up hooker. But when things go wrong, it’s the French inspector Richard (Tcheky Karyo, GoldenEye) who turns out to be the bad guy after all, killing the man and the ho, and setting up our pint-sized ass-kicker for the crimes.

kissofthedragon1But Richard — who screams a lot and keeps a turtle in his desk — picked the wrong Chinese man to push around. As stereotypes would expect, Liu is quite skilled in the martial arts (at one point even taking on an entire karate class at once!) and so adept at subduing his opponents with acupuncture needles that he keeps a supply of on his wrist. These work rather well — so well that I wonder why he bothered getting hit and kicked when he could have just planted his special magic pins on his antagonists’ various nerves and pressure points.

Liu is in possession of a videotape that shows Richard to be the true villain. At one point, the corrupt inspector gets this valuable piece of evidence back, only to have it stolen again because he just leaves it unlocked in his desk drawer. (Note to bad guys: Incriminating evidence is best left locked up, if not outright destroyed.) Richard also serves as a sugar daddy of sorts to ex-junkie and current street whore Jessica (Bridget Fonda, Lake Placid), who complains that she’s lucky to have five clients in a week. (This is how you know the film is fiction, as a hooker looking like Fonda would not be wanting for work. She’d be snapped up faster than the last chocolate long john at John Goodman’s family reunion.) Jessica is forced to join up with Liu to bring Richard down.

As if the whole needle angle weren’t enough of a gimmick, you also get a Scanners-esque meltdown with blood squirting out of every hole in a guy’s head, a goon getting cut in half in a laundry chute and a cute rabbit making a cannibalistic snack of a dead bunny. Insanity aside, Kiss of the Dragon is well worth seeing because of the sheer visceral pleasure of the fight scenes. The film has an annoying habit, however, of pumping some loud rap song whenever dudes start to tussle. As if the sloppy direction by Chris Nahon (Blood: The Last Vampire) and too-quick editing weren’t distracting enough, this is one trend I’d like to see nixed.

When it’s all said and done, Kiss of the Dragon can’t measure up to Black Mask (Li’s 1996 superhero kick-’em-up released to U.S. theaters in ’99 to capitalize on Lethal Weapon 4), but it’s a fine, fun hark back to the simple pleasures of kung-fu yesteryear. —Rod Lott

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Sci-Fi & Fantasy

The Curse of the Fly (1965)

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curseflyPart three of The Fly saga, The Curse of the Fly is miles away in tone and subject matter from the beloved 1958 original and its low-rent sequel the following year, but highly effective in its sober, British quality. Imagine the stiff-upper-lip style of any given Avengers episode (I’m talking Emma Peel, not Iron Man) done scientific and straight-faced, and you have this rather cool, compelling sci-fi gem, as underrated as it is underseen.

As the black-and-white film begins, we’re treated to slow-motion shots of a comely brunette (Carole Gray, Devils of Darkness) escaping from a loony bin while wearing only her bra and panties. On the run, she comes across Henri Delambre (Brian Donlevy, 1947’s Kiss of Death), one of those dapper young men of the family whose ancestors pioneered experimentation in human teleportation — a project he himself is involved heavily in perfecting.

cursefly1I say “perfecting,” because all the kinks of disintegration and reintegration of the human body’s molecules aren’t all worked out. And damned if the Delambres don’t have a mess of caged mutants out back to prove it! Included in the menagerie is Henri’s ex-wife, who — although now scaly-faced — still plays a mean piano!

These unethical laboratory shenanigans lead to a mutant revolt and a perverse, genuinely disturbing twist I won’t reveal. I found Curse to be an incredibly unique take on the Fly concept as created in George Langelaan’s 1957 short story; uncommon for the B-programmer era, director Don Sharp (Psychomania) found a way to expand on the source material’s mythology without just doing a simple rehash, although the studio — and especially tightwad producer Robert L. Lippert (The Last Man on Earth) — gladly would have settled for that. It would have been interesting to see where the franchise went from here, but 20th Century Fox gave it up until David Cronenberg’s brilliant reinvention in 1986. —Rod Lott

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