Only now does it occur to me... DOWN PERISCOPE

Only now does it occur to me... that DOWN PERISCOPE may possess the lowest ratio of "overall quality in comparison to amount of Great character actors" from any comparable film.

I think most of us think of DOWN PERISCOPE as the moment in the 90s where our nation's thirst for the "submarine movie" peaked, having enjoyed THE HUNT FOR RED OCTOBER, CRIMSON TIDE, THE ABYSS... before beholding the Rob Schneider version.
 
 The Rob Schneider version.

Conversely, you may also think of this as "the time Kelsey Grammer put out the feelers to see what his post-'Frasier Crane' stock might be worth."
 
If we were to examine DOWN PERISCOPE through that lens, I think we'd find that it is not typical of his actual post-FRASIER output:  clearly he's found his new niche acting against type in the third installments of modern action franchises (X-MEN III: THE LAST STAND, THE EXPENDABLES 3).

Anyway, I've digressed from my original point, which is that DOWN PERISCOPE is indeed terrible, but that it contains performances by some of our finest character actors.  There's a certain cognitive dissonance that expresses itself when you're watching Rip Torn:

William H. Macy:

Bruce Dern:

and Harry Dean Stanton:

doing their best to deliver peabrained jokes about bird shit and penis tattoos.  Whew.

Film Review: THE HOLE (2010, Joe Dante)

Stars: 4 of 5.

Running Time: 92 minutes.

Notable Cast or Crew:  Chris Massoglia (CIRQUE DU FREAK), Haley Bennett (KABOOM, MUSIC & LYRICS), Nathan Gamble (THE DARK KNIGHT, THE MIST), Teri Polo (MEET THE PARENTS, MYSTERY DATE), Bruce Dern (THE 'BURBS, SILENT RUNNING, FAMILY PLOT), Dick Miller (THE TERMINATOR, GREMLINS).  Cinematography by Theo van de Sande (WAYNE'S WORLD, MIRACLE MILE).  Written by Mark L. Smith (VACANCY, VACANCY 2). Directed by Joe Dante (GREMLINS, GREMLINS 2, EERIE INDIANA).

Tag-line: "It knows your deepest fears."

Best one-liner:  "Nobody built the hole!  The hole has been there since the world's first scream!"

I had pretty low expectations for THE HOLE.  I had seen too many beloved 80s horror directors fall victim to runaway CGI, slashed budgets, and the other side effects of the digital era to think otherwise.   Joe Dante's last theatrical feature was 2003's LOONEY TUNES: BACK IN ACTION, and THE HOLE (despite being in 3-D) struggled to find distribution for nearly three years– neither of which boded well.  Furthermore, Dante's slight contribution to the largely terrible TRAPPED ASHES did not inspire confidence, but, dammit, I should have known better–  he did make it through two seasons of MASTERS OF HORROR relatively unscathed and emerged with one mini-masterpiece (HOMECOMING).  As to THE HOLE:  I'm sorry I doubted ya, Joe!

What we have here is a pretty solid "scrappy suburban kids versus unspeakable evil" movie in the tradition of THE GATE, THE PEOPLE UNDER THE STAIRS, SILVER BULLET, THE MONSTER SQUAD, and FRIGHT NIGHT, among others.  This being 2013, its success is largely dependent on three important elements of faint praise which in an earlier era would not even need to be addressed:

#1.  The kids are not too annoying, airbrushed, or overly dull.


#2.  Bad CGI is kept to a minimum.

#3.  It tries for a sense of childlike wonder instead of corporate soullessness uncomfortably packaged as "cynicism."


[As a side note, I hold it in a higher regard than another recent, commercially successful film that attempted this vibe (SUPER 8), and though that film succeeded at #1 & #3, it failed miserably at #2, its third act revealing the "monster" and becoming a muddle of groan-inducing CGI reminiscent of the TRANSFORMERS films.]

I've always thought that the best kiddie fiction (from ALICE IN WONDERLAND to CORALINE) involves some combination of parallel dimensions and child abuse, and Dante delivers on both fronts, presenting a more mature children's piece.  It's not as good as GREMLINS or EERIE, INDIANA, sure, but it certainly tackles child abuse with a degree of empathy and sophistication that's not often seen– I was recalling the subtle hints toward Simon's abuse in EERIE, INDIANA, the bonds between the boys in EXPLORERS, and the childish sense of menace in Dante's segment of THE TWILIGHT ZONE: THE MOVIE.

A few other things I enjoyed:

Corman/Dante regular and film legend Dick Miller's wordless cameo as an eyebrow-raising pizza deliveryman:


The bits with the POLTERGEIST/TRILOGY OF TERROR/CAT'S EYE-inspired evil clown/jester doll, who, for the most part (thank God!) is a bona fide puppet:



The twisted, cartoonish vibe  of the sets in one sequence, which recall the best of Dante's TWILIGHT ZONE segment, THE CABINET OF DR. CALIGARI, and WHO FRAMED ROGER RABBIT:

And, hurrah: the generally deranged Bruce Dern shows up to chew on some scenery 

as some kind of steam-punk, Christopher Lloyd-ish light bulb enthusiast named Creepy Carl who utters foreboding dialogue such as "Nobody built the hole!  The hole has been there since the world's first scream!"

You tell 'em, Bruce!

Anyway, THE HOLE is not a masterpiece, but it's a fun kiddie-horror flick that proves Dante's still got some grit, guts n' gumption left in him, which is good enough for me.

-Sean Gill

Film Review: WILD BILL (1995, Walter Hill)

Stars: 2.7 of 5.
Running Time: 98 minutes.
Notable Cast or Crew: Jeff Bridges (STARMAN, THUNDERBOLT AND LIGHTFOOT, CUTTER'S WAY), Ellen Barkin (THE ADVENTURES OF BUCKAROO BANZAI, DOWN BY LAW), John Hurt (I, CLAUDIUS; THE HIT), Diane Lane (THE COTTON CLUB, RUMBLE FISH), Keith Carradine (NASHVILLE, SOUTHERN COMFORT), David Arquette (THE OUTSIDERS TV series, SCREAM), Christina Applegate (DON'T TELL MOM THE BABYSITTER'S DEAD, MARS ATTACKS!), James Remar (48 HRS., QUIET COOL), Bruce Dern (THE GREAT GATSBY, SILENT RUNNING). Based on the book DEADWOOD by Peter Dexter and the play by Thomas Babe.
Tag-line: "Take a walk on the wild side."
Best one-liner: "You ought to know better than to touch another man's hat."

Where to begin, WILD BILL? Let's start with the good. I'm a Walter Hill fan. I'm a fan of most of the talented, eclectic cast whose members include the commanding and mustachioed Jeff Bridges, the eloquent John Hurt, the soothingly intense Keith Carradine, the mysterious and sultry Diane Lane, and the lovably psychotic James Remar. There's fast and furious, well-choreographed gunfights which recall the quick-drawin', squinty-eyed triumphs of Sergio Leone.

There's a scene where Wild Bill shoots a shot glass off the back of a hapless pooch while he aims backwards, through a mirror.

There's Keith Carradine (who later played perhaps filmdom's finest Wild Bill on HBO's DEADWOOD) as Buffalo Bill in a zany scene showcasing Wild Bill's legendarily awful acting in the money-grubbing play 'SCOUTS OF THE PLAINS.'

There's a genius scene depicting a geriactric-style gunfight between a wheelchair-using Bruce Dern...

...and a smart-assed Wild Bill, who's had himself tied to a chair to make it a fair fight.

In fact, Dern practically steals the movie playing this irascible, grizzled madman-

and it's a role that he's pretty much (BIG LOVE, MONSTER, THE ASTRONAUT FARMER) been playing ever since. (And to be fair, he was generally playing it before, too.)

We got John Hurt narrating and raising eyebrows and classin' up the joint

and even getting punched out by James Remar.

We got Remar bustin' in and and bellowing the rhetorical question, "A FIVE DOLLAR WHORE'S GONNA TELL ME ABOUT STREET TRASH?!" to a hooker played by...uh, Christina Applegate.

Wait, that must be a typo. Surely I meant to type 'Susan Tyrrell' or 'Candy Clark' or 'Grace Zabriskie'...but no such luck. It's not all peaches and cream, ladies and gentlemen. Christina Applegate is indeed in this movie, and though it pains me to say it, she's far from being the most absolutely, hair-raisingly loco element included in the film.

Now would probably be a good time to mention that WILD BILL is sort of structured like THE DOORS. We flash-forward and flash-back and wash out to events throughout Wild Bill's life, as if trapped in a interminable time warp, an ouroboros of violence and blood and dirt and whiskey. That's fine. It establishes the sense of violence that pervades Wild Bill's very being. But things start to get a little wonky as soon as we got drug trips and opium hallucinations and use of high-contrast black-and-white video art-lookin' sequences full of bizarre, Oliver Stone-style Native American mysticism


which, for all intents and purposes, are unwatchable until Diane Lane shows up, at which point they become only barely watchable.


All of this would be excusable if they were going the all-out arthouse route, but then we have pandering- I assume to the studio, but who knows– altering the historical record in a manner which can only be described as "thoroughly cockamamie." 'Colorado' Charlie Utter inexplicably becomes Charlie Prince (the John Hurt character). Jack McCall (Bill's assassin) is no longer a young, poker-luvin' douche who impulsively shot Bill in the back over a card game and a subsequent gesture of (quite possibly mocking) kindness. He's a young tuff (...played by David Arquette) avenging the honor of his mother, Susannah (Diane Lane), who has Bill at gunpoint about 3,000 times during the course of the movie but only acts on it during the finale.

Now, the historical McCall, most likely trying to save his own ass, claimed that Wild Bill had killed his brother and he was seeking revenge, but to tie it in with the Susannah Moore/Davis Tutt incident is not only kinda historically irresponsible, but it also works to the detriment of the story Hill is telling, unless he wanted the subject of his film to be a heavily fictionalized version of Jack McCall. Anyway, it doesn't really matter- the combining, editing, and altering of historical figures in cinema occurs with such frequency that it hardly bears ment–

CALAMITY

JANE

HOT

TUB

I like Ellen Barkin. Nobody can say that I don't like Ellen Barkin. I guess what I mean to say is that she doesn't quite look the part, or even come close to matching the original Calamity Jane's intensity or gender expression. Elements that I'm sure Barkin could have captured, and that Hill would later (in DEADWOOD) explore more faithfully. It does smack of "studio note," certainly.

 

 

Then again, I suppose that Jane's depiction is something that Hollywood has always struggled with––see also: Doris Day's CALAMITY JANE (1953).

But, let's end things on a positive note, shall we? Here's a clip I uploaded of James Remar, possibly worn down from multiple takes, giving Wild Bill's hat a hearty, dramatic thwack.

Film Review: HANG 'EM HIGH (1968, Ted Post)

Stars: 3 of 5.
Running Time: 114 minutes.
Notable Cast or Crew: Clint Eastwood, Inger Stevens, Ed Begley, L.Q. Jones (BULLETPROOF, Peckinpah movies, LONE WOLF MCQUADE), Dennis Hopper.
Tag-lines: " The hanging was the best show in town. But they made two mistakes. They hung the wrong man and they didn't finish the job."
Best one-liner(s): "When you hang a man, you better look at him."

There are three types of Clint Eastwood Westerns that spell quality. Those directed by Sergio Leone, those directed by Don Siegel, and those directed by Clint Eastwood. Nowhere on that list is there any room for a gentleman by the name of Ted Post. This is not a bad movie, but it was an attempt to cash in on Eastwood's success as Sergio Leone's "Man with No Name." The Leone westerns are gritty, grimy, and dusty. They're loud and violent. The soundtracks are punctuated by primal shrieks and grunts, courtesy of Ennio Morricone. This is a Hollywood film. A Hollywood still clinging to an old type of Western, now tainted by years of televised Westerns and the decline of Hawksian filmmaking. Not until the next year, 1969, with THE WILD BUNCH, would Hollywood get with the program. To illustrate my point, HANG 'EM HIGH depicts The Man With No Name taking a ladyfriend on a picnic.


The prosecution rests.