Pitch Black (2000)

pitchblackPitch Black’s plot can be summarized simply: After crash-landing on a seemingly deserted planet, a group of space travelers happens upon killer aliens that only come at night … and a solar eclipse is about to occur. Indeed, that happens, but once it does, nothing is built upon it.

Radha Mitchell (Silent Hill) is Capt. Carolyn Fry, who leads her shipwrecked charges against apparently insurmountable odds. One of her passengers is the bald, bass-voiced Vin Diesel (The Fast and the Furious), portraying Riddick, some sort of super-criminal with silver eyes who, as luck would have it, can only see in the dark. He’s the one mean guy who you know will find it in his heart to turn nice somewhere during Act 3, at least long enough to save some people.

pitchblack1Our survivors find an abandoned ship they believe could be used to escape, if only they can transfer the power source from their now-useless one to this as-yet-unharmed one. As they’re doing so, darkness comes, and so do the aliens. As is rote with today’s technology, the aliens are total creations of CGI, so they never look real, as if you get to see them much at all. Most sightings of these creatures are limited to flying swarms of them, which makes them look like toy jacks. Standing still, they kind of resemble black woodpeckers. Either way, they’re not scary.

Although beloved by enough people to spawn sequels, Pitch Black is just plain void of suspense or imagination — a description befitting of every tired Alien retread since 1979. Directed and co-written by David Twohy (The Arrival), it aims to be arty, given its limited color palette, barren setting and clunky dialogue.

Mitchell can be commended for not patterning the vulnerable Fry after Sigourney Weaver. Diesel, however, is goofy — all attitude, zero ability. Not that he’s given much to do, other than run fast, bare his muscles and shave his head using a shiv and motor oil. Before the story even really gets rolling, Pitch Black reveals itself to be a cheap-looking (despite $23 million), hair-above-amateur production whose only thrill for this viewer arrived when it finally ended. Ditch Pitch. —Rod Lott

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Aftershock (2013)

aftershockShould you choose to take a wine tour of Chile, pack a football helmet and an autograph book — the former in case of earthquakes; the latter because you just might run into Selena Gomez. That Spring Breakers starlet makes an uncredited cameo in Aftershock, a shaky quake pic more interested in a retching scale than the Richter one.

For the first third, director Nicolás López follows our tourists as they party hearty in an underground night club accessible via cable car. A couple of sisters bicker; one guy coaches another in the art of chasing tail; but if there’s a front-and-center character, it’s Gringo, played by Eli Roth (Inglourious Basterds), who also contributed to the screenplay and co-produces.

aftershock1Roth’s creative stamp becomes evident once the republic starts to rumble. That’s when the Irwin Allen situation grows quite Hostel. Clubgoers are flattened by chunks of cement; flesh is penetrated by sharp objects. Against the grisly carnage, one guy’s search for his hand is played for laughs. Why, it’s enough to make a girl vomit, and we get that, too.

Once back above ground, our survivors find more obstacles awaiting their struggle to find safety: a riot, a tsunami, flames, rape, local gangs — and Gringo doesn’t speak any Spanish! ¡Ay, caramba! It all becomes unpleasant, but really, isn’t that Aftershock’s reason for being? Charlton Heston would be appalled, which is one argument for giving it a try. —Rod Lott

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The Frozen Ghost (1945)

frozenghostThe fourth of Universal Pictures’ six-film Inner Sanctum Mystery series, The Frozen Ghost stars a lean Lon Chaney Jr. as mentalist Gregor the Great. He puts on bravura stage shows in which he hypnotizes his assistant/fiancée, Maura (Evelyn Ankers, reuniting with Chaney after The Wolf Man), into being able to read the thoughts and Social Security numbers of audience members.

One clearly soused skeptic thinks it’s a whole lotta phooey, so Gregor invites him onstage. Unfortunately, the drunk dies while under Gregor’s trance. Although doctors dub it a case of natural causes, Gregor believes he killed the guy with his eyes, so he breaks his engagement and wallows in guilt.

frozenghost1He hopes to begin life anew at a wax museum, of all places, but the beware-the-stare problem rises again. “Tragedy is determined to follow me wherever I go,” bemoans poor Gregor. As with all the hourlong Inner Sanctum pictures, what seems supernatural is easily explained by the unremarkable end.

While the museum boasts likenesses of Cleopatra, Genghis Khan, Napoleon, Atilla the Hun, Lady Macbeth and the head of Marie Antoinette, the setting is not used to its full potential. Don’t expect the creepiness of 1933’s Mystery of the Wax Museum. Also, don’t expect a ghost — frozen, thawed, room-temp or otherwise. —Rod Lott

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Game of Death (2010)

gamedeathI hate that someone as talented as Wesley Snipes has alienated and tax-evaded himself into direct-to-video hell (not to mention federal prison), but at least Game of Death is a pretty damn decent paycheck project, as far as pure paycheck projects go.

Our former Blade plays Marcus, an undercover agent/assassin for the CIA who, after confessing his sins to a priest (token black Ghostbuster Ernie Hudson) sets his sights on an arms dealer (Robert Davi, Licence to Kill) being financed by a Detroit hedge fund manager (Quinn Duffy, this movie’s Very Loud Business Prick with Brian Grazer Hair).

gamedeath1As you can imagine, that doesn’t sit well with said dealer, so Marcus finds himself in a do-or-die, kill-or-be-killed situation for the bulk of the picture — a Game of Death, if you will, but one not to be confused with Bruce Lee’s 1978 partly posthumous epic of the same name.

Or should it? That old Game of Death found its star kicking his way up a building, floor by floor; this new Game of Death finds its star shooting his way through a hospital, floor by floor. The facility is the kind of movie hospital where the entire second floor not only houses a loony bin, but one that goes unsupervised and whose patients act like Romero-esque zombies.

Thanks to Snipes, the movie generally works in spite of director Giorgio Serafini’s dabbling in needless STV tricks, i.e. switching to black-and-white and skipping frames, both for no discernible reason. —Rod Lott

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Supernova (2000)

supernovaEvery now and then, a movie really is every bit the feast of turkey as the critics say. Supernova is that movie.

By all accounts, it was a troubled post-production process, with director Walter Hill (The Warriors) taking his name off it, The Hidden’s Jack Sholder coming in for reshoots, Francis Ford Coppola doing some uncredited editing — and the end result is such a mess, it feels like you’re watching what would happen if the studio held an “Edit a Feature Film!” contest for the general public.

Supernovocaine (as I like to call it) follows a small crew floating through space on one huge ship. There’s the captain, Robert Forster (Jackie Brown), who watches Tom & Jerry cartoons. James Spader (Stargate) is a recovering addict, which has nothing to do with anything, but you’ll notice that with his hair dyed black, he looks a lot like Jeff Goldblum. Angela Bassett (Strange Days) is the no-nonsense, tough-as-nails doctor. Then there’s Lou Diamond Phillips (Young Guns); Robin Tunney (The Craft), who looks like a man here; and a robot so laughable that it appears to come straight out of Hardware Wars.

supernova1Everything’s peachy-keen until they rescue a mysterious young man (Can’t Hardly Wait’s Peter Facinelli, the JV Tom Cruise) from a mining facility in another dimension. He brought a glowing, vagina-shaped special effect with him, you see, and he likes to kill people. So he begins the rote one-by-one method of cinematic homicide. Who do you think will make it to the climactic showdown? To quote Wesley Snipes in Passenger 57, “Always bet on black!”

None of it makes sense, and it doesn’t help that the cast is saddled with mumbo-jumbo dialogue like “We’ve jumped into a high-grav field right in the path of that moon’s debris cloud!,” which Spader is forced to utter without so much as a smile. Not even the promise of zero-gravity sex scenes — fulfilled — is enough to save this one from stupidity. —Rod Lott

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