Action

Do or Die (1991)

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Do or Die is another installment in Andy Sidaris’ guilty-pleasure series of T&AK-47 action opuses. This one is chock-full of all the standard elements — former Playboy Playmates, guns, explosions and remote-control aircraft — plus the added fun of one-time Oscar nominee Pat Morita, never-in-danger-of-Academy-honors Erik Estrada and the inexplicably bosomed Stephanie Schick (aka Pandora Peaks).

As usual, the ever-bouncy Dona Spier and bouncier Roberta Vasquez are on hand (but, alas, not in my hands) as federal agents out to quash the mystical Asian overlord Kane, this time played by Morita. Estrada plays a guy named Rico and refers to his penis as “Little Rico.” (Hey, at least he’s honest.)

Thanks to Peaks, the breasts are bigger than ever. And wetter, as Schick unleashes hers under a waterfall, while Vasquez plays a round of human tequila shots. Blondes and brunettes aren’t you thing? In her third Sidaris go-round, leggy ginger Cynthia Brimhall is here to fulfill that particular fetish — and, boy, does she ever.

The Sidaris glue, whatever its magic formula, isn’t laid on quite as thick here as in his other sexy spysters like Fit to Kill. But still, it’s Sidaris, which means worthy viewing no matter what. —Rod Lott

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Western

Jonah Hex (2010)

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I am convinced that there is a good movie — or at least a fun one — lurking within the bowels of Jonah Hex. Being unfamiliar with the long-running DC Comics series, I cannot comment on how closely the film hews to the original narrative, but it’s hard to fathom how a story about a viciously scared gunman who talks to the dead and wields steampunk armaments could be boring.

At least, I couldn’t fathom it before Jonah Hex came to be. What should have been a pulpy Western mesh of Blade and Pale Rider is a flat-out disaster, actually making Wild Wild West seem not so bad in retrospect (that armored spider was pretty cool).

Hex has two saving graces. One is star Josh Brolin, scowling and growling with the best of them, lending his scenes an air of gravitas the film never deserves. Two, it’s only 74 mind-numbing minutes long, minus the credits.

Otherwise, this may be one of the most ridiculous movies of the decade, chock-full of actors who should know better. As the villain, John Malkovich yawns his way to another paycheck; Will Arnett is spectacularly miscast as a Civil War soldier; Michael Fassbender capers about, waiting to become famous in Inglourious Basterds; Watchmen‘s Jeffrey Dean Morgan shows up for some reason; and Michael Shannon (Take Shelter) appears in the background. And Transformers object Megan Fox as the town whore Jonah loves? Suffice to say, I’ve seen more sexual heat in a Kirk Cameron church flick.

Here’s the crux of my argument: If, while watching a movie, you suddenly say, “Hey, Tom Wopat! Cool!,” the movie sucks. —Corey Redekop

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Thriller

The Red Queen Kills 7 Times (1972)

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In one of those palatial estates that resembles more of an art museum than a residence, an elderly, wheelchair-bound man tells grandchildren Evelyn and Kitty — naughty and nice, respectively — the legend of the spooky painting in his study: That tired of all the pranks and abuse, the Black Queen killed her evil sister, the Red Queen, only for the Red Queen to come back to life for revenge, killing the Black Queen and six others.

That’s basically the entire plot of The Red Queen Kills 7 Times, as Evelyn and Kitty embody the ladies of the legend. In one of their many scuffles started by Evelyn, Kitty accidentally kills her sibling. Older sis Franziska (Marina Malfatti, Seven Blood-Stained Orchids) helps her hide the body and spread the falsehood that Evelyn “went to America.”

Years later, a grown Kitty (Barbara Bouchet, The French Sex Murders) is a fashion photographer, and with the death of her grandfather, it appear as if Evelyn has resurrected herself, as a black-gloved, red-caped, white-masked, VW bug-cruising, dagger-wielding serial killer — all the better to milk the crimson stuff out of this gripping-enough giallo.

While no classic, the final film of director Emilio Miraglia (The Night Evelyn Came Out of the Grave), Red Queen works on all the levels a giallo should: The mystery is intriguing, the killer is creepy, the music (by Bruno Nicolai) is swinging, the fashions are mod, the architecture is modder, the blood is bright red, the title is head-scratching, and the women are drop-dead gorgeous — sometimes literally. The running time is also a bit bloated, but since some of that entails one Sybil Danning at the beginning of her career and donning her birthday suit, I’m letting it slide. —Rod Lott

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Horror

The Ape (1940)

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In The Ape, Boris Karloff is a doctor who’s alienated the townspeople by conducting secret experiments with animals. Using their spinal fluid, he’s been trying to find a cure for paralysis, particularly for Frances, a cute wheelchair-bound young woman whose legs haven’t moved in 10 years.

Doc catches a lucky break when a gorilla escapes from the local circus and breaks into his home. Karloff kills it, skins it and uses its hide to disguise himself as the real deal, so he can go prancing around town at night (in obvious day-for-night shots) and extract spinal fluid from humans. The trick works and progress is made, so he keeps going ape to get more fluid so Frances may walk again.

Written by The Wolf Man’s Curt Siodmak, this has to be the most bizarre concept for an early horror film. Think about it: Karloff is walking around in the skin of a gorilla he slaughtered. How did he clean it? How does he not reek of monkey entrails? How lucky was he to murder an ape just his size? The mind boggles; the movie entertains. —Rod Lott

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Thriller

Secret Window (2004)

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When it comes to Stephen King adaptations, some are good and some are bad. Secret Window — based upon one of the quartet of novellas from his Four Past Midnight collection — is one of the better ones of the ’00s, although still far from a classic.

Coming from writer-director David Koepp, it’s a tension-ratcheting thriller in the mode of his work on Panic Room or Stir of Echoes, about a nearly divorced author (Johnny Depp) struggling with writer’s block in a remote cabin in the woods. Having moved out after catching wifey Maria Bello whoring herself out to Timothy Hutton of all ordinary people, he’s a bit depressed, taking lots of naps in his bathrobe and eating Doritos.

His idyllic surroundings turn icy when a mysterious, hat-wearing hick named Shooter (John Turturro) shows up on his porch leveling charges of plagiarism. Depp doesn’t take him too seriously at first, so Shooter puts a screwdriver through his dog’s head; ergo, Depp pays closer attention.

I liked Secret Window up until the last 15 minutes, when the twist just comes off more silly than surprising. But even a cold-hearted bastard like me has to appreciate its rather perverse final shot. —Rod Lott

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