2nd Chance (2022)

Often, changing the world takes a big idea and a bit of bravado. Nowhere on that path does a sign state narcissism as a toll to be paid, yet it happens. Money corrupts, kids! 99 Homes director Ramin Bahrani illustrates that never-truer concept with the first-rate documentary 2nd Chance, an American excess story about the valiant rise and ignoble fall of Richard Davis.

After a pizza delivery turned gunfight in ’69 Detroit, Davis developed and patented the modern bulletproof vest in the early 1970s. Calling his company Second Chance, his goal was to save the lives of 100 police officers; before long, he cracked 1,000. And wouldn’t you know it, a God complex was born.

To tell this riveting tale of greed and guns, Bahrani interviews family members, ex-wives, ex-employees, ex-friends and, yes, Davis himself. Now nearly an octogenarian, the willing subject is one colorful, ornery character. You’d expect that from a guy who’s shot himself 192 times on camera to demonstrate his product’s effectiveness. Then its efficacy … um, let’s say “is significantly lowered.”

As fascinating as Davis is, it’s infuriating to watch the man live in complete and utter denial of provable facts, show no remorse, fail to accept responsibility, refuse to apologize and, even with evidence literally in front of his face, flat out lie.

At its conclusion, 2nd Chance introduces someone who played an indirect role in the success of Second Chance the business. Unlike Davis, this person does penance and, before our eyes, achieves peace decades in the making. Davis, meanwhile, does not appear to have learned his lesson — any lesson — no matter how many opportunities Bahrani kindly provides: more than are deserved. —Rod Lott

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The Appointment (1982)

Lindsey Vickers’ The Appointment is the rare case of a Twilight Zone concept working perfectly well as a movie. Although Vickers’ story all but shouts how his story will end, he manages to tease suspense and turn the inevitable into a bravura sequence that literally turns things on its head.

Family man Ian (Edward Woodward, The Wicker Man) has to go out of town for a work obligation. This means he’ll miss the violin recital of his 14-year-old daughter, Joanne (Samantha Weysom, The Ritz). He and Joanne are bonded like Loctite Super Glue, so the news doesn’t sit well with her. Like, at all. Joanne’s growing petulance eats away at his empathy.

Thanks to a shocking prologue viewers should discover on their own, a discomfiting sense of dread pervades The Appointment. We know something irreversibly awful will happen, leaving us gripped for every bump of the ride. At once influencing Final Destination while recalling the expertise of Duel, Ian is pursued by what the rearview mirror cannot reveal: fate. How something this sure-handed remains Vickers’ lone feature is perhaps the only mystery any larger. —Rod Lott

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The Kindred (1987)

Somewhere around 1984, I got my first video membership. It was a small mom-and-pop store in an even smaller town, with the most eye-catching posters circling my being, relating to mid-80ers like Re-Animator, From Beyond and Ghoulies, for example.

And though I completely forgot about the 1987 movie The Kindred, I will never forget that poster featuring a baby’s bottle with a … slimy thing inside. It still haunts me.

Kindly physician Dr. Lloyd (Rod Steiger) apparently has an evil side, finding accident victims and conducting experiments. While trying to find some “journals” or whatever scientists do with written notes, he inadvertently kills his lab partner.

The deceased lab partner’s son, John (David Allen Brooks), who is also a doctor, is down with his girlfriend and some other students to find the “journals” on the experiment. Meanwhile, as John’s dog waits on the porch, a slimy thing breaks out of the cellar, eating him.

As all parties converge in the near-creepy house, slimy things get in through people’s skin, rooting around in the body and creating a new quasi-lifeform. It doesn’t make much sense, but it does have Oscar winner Steiger consumed by the monster, so that’s something!

But most of the movie is quite forgettable. I even forgot that Max Headroom’s Amanda Pays plays a mysterious scientist. She’s quite good in the thankless role, more than the movie deserves. But as far as I can see, this tale of science amok is, like the experiments, pretty half-baked.

I still like that poster, though. —Louis Fowler

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Emergency Declaration (2021)

A Sky Korea jet airliner is bound for Hawaii — and doom — in Emergency Declaration, because one of its passengers is a terrorist. Cold, calculated and no doubt crazed, Yim Si-wan’s disgraced biochemist slices open his armpit and sews a container of a deadly virus into it just prior to boarding. Once in flight, he fishes it out and lets ‘er loose, with the intent to kill everyone aboard.

On the ground, a police sergeant (Parasite papa Kang-ho Song) is alerted to a video threat the terrorist uploaded the previous day, and races against time to learn the man’s identity. It’s extra-important considering the sergeant’s wife is on that plane.

Needless to say, Jae-rim Han’s first film since 2017’s award-winning The King is not recommended for anyone with immediate travel plans consisting of a hop over an ocean. To everyone else, however, Emergency Declaration arrives as a slick, mostly satisfactory update on the 1970s airborne disaster film, swapping out the mad bomber for a more modern antisocial scientist.

I only wish it ended around the 1:40 mark, where it felt natural. Instead, the South Korean film continues for almost another hour, as Han throws more problems at the plane’s already fucked-up flight plan. Among this final (over)stretch is a scenario that practically calls for a sweaty, white-knuckled Robert Hays to take the captain’s chair. —Rod Lott

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I, the Jury (1953)

Suitably, I, the Jury begins with a bang — literally, as the sawed-off muzzle of a .45 pokes through an apartment door and fatally plugs a one-armed man. And it should, this being the first live-action depiction of Mickey Spillane’s Mike Hammer character. At the time, Spillane had sold millions upon millions of paperbacks featuring the private dick, so a movie was a big deal — so big, it was made in 3-D!

Biff Elliot (The Day of the Wolves) plays the investigating Hammer like an exposed nerve with a hair-trigger temper. If he’s not shoving a nosy journo into the contents of a china cabinet, he’s throwing a drink in the face of some hood. Equally agile is his mouth, eveready with a salty cutdown of doubt. For example, when a person of interest claims he can prove he was in bed at the time of the crime, Hammer snaps, “How? Take a notary public with ya?”

With a Christmas setting making misery, writer/director Harry Essex (Octaman) keeps the frames moving at a pace approximate to the seemingly effortless swiftness of Spillane’s pages. We follow Hammer as he leaps from informant to suspect and back again, including an alcoholic fighter, a veterinarian, a dance instructor, a Spanish bartender and, most notably, a hotsy-totsy shrink (Peggie Castle, 1952’s Invasion, U.S.A.) who serves as our femme fatale. Everyone is so colorful, the whodunit aspect practically becomes secondary.

Although limited as an actor, Elliot makes for a fine-enough tough guy, excelling in his narration of Jury, which is an admirable way to transition the character from novel to screen. I’d say it’s a shame neither he nor Essex got the opportunity to repeat their jobs as a franchise, but then we wouldn’t have Robert Aldrich’s definitive Kiss Me Deadly two years later. That’s a crime classic; I, the Jury is a pretty solid lead-in. —Rod Lott

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