Mad Props (2024)

Aside from the script, performers and digital effects, movies are an amalgam of stuff we find lying around. The alien from John Carpenter and Dan O’Bannon’s Dark Star was just a painted beach ball with rubber feet attached. The crew of James Cameron’s Aliens double-dipped into their gear and used Steadicam arms to create the Colonial Marines’ M56 Smartguns. And the walls of the Nostromo from Ridley Scott’s original Alien featured a coffee grinder. (Granted, the space truckers probably just need a decent cup of joe every few million miles.)

Props — regardless of what they’re made of — give movies life. Tulsa banker Tom Biolchini, the subject of Juan Pablo Reinoso’s documentary Mad Props, seeks to preserve that life and celebrate props for what they ultimately are: art.

Though it doesn’t seem like this were ever in question, you probably don’t hear much appreciation for visual and technical designers not named Tom Savini, Phil Tippett or Ray Harryhausen. We love their work, true, but maybe we tend to give directors like Guillermo del Toro and Peter Jackson credit that’s at least partially due to their prop artists.

That compulsion to find and recognize those masters makes Mad Props more endearing than it otherwise could be. Because let’s be real: Watching a hugely successful banker drop hundreds of thousands of dollars on the Holy Grail from Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade isn’t exactly relatable. (Especially when you consider the didactic of that flick was how you shouldn’t obsess over one-of-a-kind treasures — Indy’s dad even shed a tear over it!)

If a wildly prohibitive hobby were all there was to Mad Props, it would frankly be a detached, insufferable trudge of a doc. Fortunately, the film makes a point to profile not just those who collect props, but the people who make and curate them, too. Biolchini has an infectious enthusiasm about this craft.

And while you could make the argument someone who collects a certain thing would want said thing to be recognized as art because that would likely inflate its value, that’s not quite how it would work since these items already command such a steep price. It seems Biolchini genuinely wants to preserve them in an era when less props are taking a physical form at all.

The behind-the-scenes stories Mad Props covers, like the nightmare that was the Goro suit from 1995’s Mortal Kombat, perfectly captures how much effort special effects demand even for just a few minutes’ worth of footage. A giddy Robert Englund recounting the many gloves of Freddy Krueger helps, too.

Mad Props really only wanes with the auction coverage. It just isn’t very interesting and does little to convey appreciation for film. In fact, the documentary finds meaning the further it drifts from the hobby and more into curation and prop production. It also helps that the doc is incredibly easy to watch. At its heart, it’s a light profile of movies and fans who love them. Like, a lot. —Daniel Bokemper

Get it at Amazon.

Good-Bye Cruel World (1982)

Most people only know this obscure comedy for its VHS box art, depicting an arm jutting from a toilet bowl to flush itself. Befitting of that porcelain throne, Good-Bye Cruel World is an unqualified stinker. 

Comedian Dick Shawn (1967’s The Producers) plays Rodney Pointsetter, an evening news anchor who melts down on air after his divorce. He resolves to blow his brains out — ho-ho-HO! — but goes to visit some family members first. One of those is his obese brother-in-law, essayed by Chuck “Porky” Mitchell; that’s how the credits list him, which may be the saddest thing imaginable. 

In between these reunion scenes, brief sketches and parodies play, as if broadcast from Pointsetter’s employer’s channel. Most were outdated by the time Cruel World hit video store shelves, like a hemorrhoid ad featuring “Jimmy Carter,” a spoof of Brooke Shields’ Calvin Klein jeans spot (but with a naked woman and a brand called Joy Crotch) and a commercial for Psycho Soap, with Alan Spencer (creator of TV’s Sledge Hammer!) doing a better-than-decent Norman Bates impersonation. 

The only amusing portion is a faux trailer for An Officer and an Elephant Man, which is just like it sounds. Novelty value seeps from this bad-taste bit as future Daily Show correspondent Larry Wilmore makes his screen debut making light of Louis Gossett Jr.’s drill sergeant role.

Although not truly interactive, Good-Bye Cruel World comes presented in “Choice-A-Rama,” allowing for a recurring gag of a host asking the audience to vote on what they’d like to see next. The results are never funny, but at least you get Angelique Pettyjohn (The Lost Empire) as a stripping nun. 

Ultimately, Rodney decides life’s worth living because sexy journalist Cynthia Sikes (Arthur 2: On the Rocks) wants to get in his pants. Too bad she and Rodney perish in a tragic accident of slapstick proportions in a finale so “wacky,” it includes a marching band. From a cloud in heaven, Rodney sings a song about life being “a mammy-jammer.” These are the jokes, folks. —Rod Lott

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The Animal Kingdom (2023)

Although The Animal Kingdom won five of its 12 nominations for the Césars, France’s equivalent to the Oscars, don’t mistake it for homework. It’s a superb work of fantasy. With feet planted on terra firma as its head takes a flight of fancy, the picture draws influence from David Cronenberg’s The Fly to the X-Men franchise, while somehow pulling off the appearance of originality.

Director and writer Thomas Cailley (Love at First Fight) presents a world challenged by a new pandemic, in which people undergo zoological mutations that may as well be named for Dr. Moreau. “Critter” is considered a slur; they’re “creatures,” TYVM, and they grapple with adjusting to feathers, tentacles, scales and prehensile tails.

One of the infected is the wife and mother to, respectively, François (an excellent Romain Duris, 2022’s Final Cut) and teenaged Émile (How to Make Out’s Paul Kircher, quite the young find). She’s also vanished. François can’t face the prospect of losing her, although most would agree that, in a way, he already has.

Meanwhile, while searching high and low, Émile comes face to face with startling examples of evolution’s next step. Whether said step leaps forward or diverges off to the side, the path he’s shown goes further than he’s willing to follow. He may not have a choice.

The Animal Kingdom operates on multiple levels of allegory: mortality, minority, puberty — take your pick! Cailley holds such tight control over his material, he’s able to steer deftly from moments of compassion to comedy (a visual gag involving kayaks slays) with no swerve feeling false. One memorable scene nails the tricky balance of conveying both heartbreak and joy as François and Émile drive through the forest at night while blasting their missing matriarch’s favorite song in hopes of triggering recognition.

Irony exists in The Animal Kingdom having the most humanistic viewpoint among movies in recent memory. Technically impeccable with seamless effects, it makes the case for Cailley being his country’s Steven Spielberg. A feel-good film about a bad hand dealt to all involved, it ends not in a cop-out, but a triumph. —Rod Lott

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One-Percent Warrior (2023)

One-Percent Warrior — you just know Warren Buffett favors that nickname in krav maga class at the club — isn’t your ordinary martial-arts movie. It’s meta meta meta. And fortunately in a fun way. 

Played by Tak Sakaguchi, Toshiro is a has-been action hero whose trademark of “assassination jitsu” has aged out of audiences’ favor. I don’t know why, because the guy’s so quick and agile, he literally can dodge bullets! 

Toshiro longs to make a “100% pure action film” — none of this choreographed, 15-takes bullshit. (This must be a nod to Sakaguchi and director Yudai Yamaguchi’s recent single-shot epic, Crazy Samurai: 400 vs. 1.) A decade after his last hit, Toshiro enlists his new apprentice, Akira (Kohei Fukuyama, TV’s Mob Psycho 100), to shoot his comeback vehicle Soderbergh-style (on a smartphone), on an island housing nothing but an abandoned zinc factory.

Call it an ideal location for limb dislocation. Because at the same time, not one but two heavily armed yakuza gangs swarm the isle, thanks to a secret stash of 2 tons of cocaine.

The 20th (!) collaboration between Sakaguchi and Yamaguchi, One-Percent Warrior finds them moving away from the silliness of their past (Meatball Machine, Battlefield Baseball, et al.) and growing up. It’s for the better. Unable to rest on slapsticky laurels, Yamaguchi comes alive via frenetic camerawork, sweeping and surveying the action unfolding throughout the locale. 

It’s nice to see Sakaguchi do his thing free of gimmicky trappings or cartoon gore. A high point finds Toshiro in the dark, subduing his opponents with flying fists and a disorienting strobe flashlight, all scored to George Gershwin’s sublime Rhapsody in Blue.

Had this Japanese flick starred Jackie Chan (instead of name-dropping him) and came out post-Rumble in the Bronx, it would’ve killed at the box office. Instead, it’s set to stream on the little-seen and largely unheard-of Hi-YAH! channel. Give it and Sakaguchi a chance, because One-Percent Warrior has might and a mind. —Rod Lott

Get it at Amazon.

Creepypasta (2023)

As my youngest child explained to me years ago, “creepypasta” is more or less the internet’s version of ghost stories and urban legends. (Think Slender Man.) Because they’re shared online instead at campfires or sleepovers, they spread worldwide in a near-instant. The name itself is partly a portmanteau of “copy/paste.” 

Now, explaining Creepypasta, the horror anthology corralling work from eight directors, is scads easier: It stinks. 

In the unimaginative wraparound story, we watch a guy stumble through a mysterious house, where he’s introduced to 10 stories written by a creepypasta author gone missing. Of the 10, a mere three at least held my attention — a ratio so poor, it deserves a bell ringer standing outside Walmart around the holidays. 

Were I feeling generous, I’d up that to four in 10, just for the shadow people story’s oddball scenario of ladies noshing over a charcuterie board as they swap Jerry Maguire-style science facts, like “Your rectum can stretch up to 9 inches in diameter.” I’ll take their word for it. 

The best bits feature a rulebreaker who gets Hellraiser-hooked for watching a forbidden broadcast on TV, a boy’s nocturnal encounter with a tooth fairy, and a child’s “imaginary” friend named Jumby. None breaks new ground, but each achieves effectiveness simply by setting up only what’s required. 

Whether about mirror people, cults, closet monsters or the Grey Man, other segments get bogged down in being too vague or trying to do too much. Both approaches go against the idea of being so sharable. —Rod Lott

Get it at Amazon.

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