Junta Juleil's Culture Shock: Debra Hill

Showing posts with label Debra Hill. Show all posts

Thursday, August 11, 2016

Television Review: ROADRACERS (1994, Robert Rodriguez)

Stars: 4 of 5.
Running Time: 95 minutes.
Tag-line: "Rent all the action!"
Notable Cast or Crew: David Arquette (EIGHT-LEGGED FREAKS, SCREAM), John Hawkes (DEADWOOD, FROM DUSK TILL DAWN), Salma Hayek (DESPERADO, FRIDA), Jason Wiles (KICKING AND SCREAMING, THE STEPFATHER '09), William Sadler (BILL & TED'S BOGUS JOURNEY, DIE HARD 2, THE SHAWSHANK REDEMPTION, THE MIST), Kevin McCarthy (INVASION OF THE BODY SNATCHERS, INNERSPACE), Mark Lowenthal ("Walter Neff" the insurance salesman on TWIN PEAKS, SCENES FROM THE CLASS STRUGGLE IN BEVERLY HILLS). Co-written by Robert Rodriguez and Tommy Nix (a Rodriguez crony who appears as himself here, and has cameos in DESPERADO, SIN CITY, PLANET TERROR, etc.).
Best One-liner: "Little dab'll do ya."

In the mid-90s, Debra Hill (HALLOWEEN, THE FOG), William Kutner, and Lou Arkoff (son of the legendary Samuel Z.) produced ten made-for-TV movies for Showtime, each intending to pay homage to 50's and 60's American International pictures, the kind of teensploitation populated by greasers, good girls gone bad, rock n' roll bands, biker gangs, and other sorts of juvenile delinquents. The directors were given $1.3 million and twelve days to shoot their work with a minimum of studio interference. I've seen all ten of these now, and they definitely vary wildly in quality––there are highs like SHAKE, RATTLE, AND ROCK! (Allan Arkush's prequel to ROCK N' ROLL HIGH SCHOOL) and RUNAWAY DAUGHTERS (some Joe Dante silliness that sort of functions as a HOWLING reunion), lows like COOL AND THE CRAZY (Ralph Bakshi tries live-action while Jared Leto tries very hard to be simultaneously "cool" and "crazy" while achieving neither), and oddities like JAILBREAKERS (William Friedkin directs Adrienne Barbeau and Shannen Doherty in a 'cheerleader-gone-bad' tale?!). Of all of these films, I must say that the best of them is probably ROADRACERS, by then-up-and-coming action maverick Robert Rodriguez.

Rodriguez, fresh off of his debut (EL MARIACHI), strives for what none of the REBEL HIGHWAY veterans does: he injects his episode with style. It's legitimately cool, in a rockabilly Jean-Luc Godard, Jim Jarmusch-in-a-leather-jacket kind of way.

(Come to think of it, why didn't they ask Jarmusch to do one of these? Or John Waters?)

Squealin' rockabilly saxophone works wonders

As a REBEL HIGHWAY episode, ROADRACERS is unique in almost every aspect. The plot is very free-form, nearly Linklater-esque, and Rodriguez meanders between the scenes, ideas, and locales (diners, gas stations, clubs, movie theaters, etc.) that most fascinate him. I suppose, abstractly, it's a film about musicians and dreams, though it's also about teen love and impulse, rural malaise and the thrill of escape, small-town weirdness and bloody revenge. In the latter two respects, it has an almost Lynchian specificity, helped along by the fact that the characters are idiosyncratic and feel very "lived-in."

Take David Arquette's sassy bad-boy greaser, for instance––a little more bizarre and nihilistic than your traditional lead, the character's not particularly likable, but he's unpredictable, and always compelling. Oddly, he's a little more Jean-Paul Belmondo than James Dean.

In a scene of typically gleeful Rodriguez excess, David Arquette piles some pomade in his hair that looks more like ectoplasm, or the xenomorph Queen's saliva:

Then there's John Hawkes as Arquette's sidekick/Sal Mineo, a character who gives a poignant diner monologue about a school of philosophy best described as "French Fry Existentialism."

ROADRACERS ain't playin' it safe, pally!

Or observe William Sadler's vicious small-town cop (who still lives with his mother), introduced while giving a monologue (to Mark Lowenthal, a TWIN PEAKS bit player) about pigs-in-a-blanket:

It's fuckin' creepy, and really sets a tone. Whether he's doing sinister, naked tai chi, taking on Bill & Ted at Twister, or murdering the exonerated for The Cryptkeeper's amusement, Sadler is one of the great cinematic villains.

We also have Jason Wiles as an antagonistic, "Do you know who my father is?!" sort of small-town brat.

I really enjoyed him as a lovable goofus in Noah Baumbach's KICKING AND SCREAMING, so it was especially fun to see him here dripping ominous n' whiny sleaze.

Salma Hayek, in her American debut, is given a bit of a short shrift; ostensibly she's here to be Arquette's love interest, though she gives the character quite a bit of weight in a relatively small amount of screentime.

Additionally, she's the only Latina (with adoptive white parents) in this entire backwater town, and consequently there are a number of opportunities for piercing social commentary and Sirk-style melodrama, and while the film briefly explores these, we're left with the feeling that most of it was left on the cutting room floor.

In any event, it was enough to snag her the lead in DESPERADO, so there's that.

Ultimately, Rodriguez, working within The System for the first time, does manage to make the film his own. There are Mexican stand-offs with switchblades:

a drag race, puncutated by the surreal imagery of a woman's hair on fire:

a cameo by Kevin McCarthy (I wonder why he didn't pop up in Rodriguez's INVASION OF THE BODY SNATCHERS/THE THING/SCREAM mash-up, THE FACULTY?) appearing as a fourth-wall-breaking theater-goer during a screening of INVASION OF THE BODY SNATCHERS:

You're next?

and finally, in the manic, LOST HIGHWAY-prefiguring conclusion, we reach peak levels of cheerful Rodriguez nihilism. I like to image that Arquette drives straight out of this movie and into RIDING THE BULLET.

All in all, I really enjoyed this thing, and additionally got a big kick out of the DVD's cover art, which pretends that all of this is somehow a missing chapter of SIN CITY (?!):

I wholeheartedly recommend. (Also, check out J.D.'s illuminating review over at Radiator Heaven!)

–Sean Gill

Friday, October 31, 2014

Film Review: HALLOWEEN (1978, John Carpenter)

Stars: 5 of 5.

Running Time: 91 minutes.

Tag-line: "The night HE came home!"

Notable Cast or Crew: Starring Donald Pleasence (THE GREAT ESCAPE, PHENOMENA), Jamie Lee Curtis (PERFECT, PROM NIGHT), P.J. Soles (CARRIE, ROCK N' ROLL HIGH SCHOOL), Charles Cyphers (ESCAPE FROM NEW YORK, THE FOG), Nancy Kyes (ASSAULT ON PRECINCT 13, THE FOG), Kyle Richards (THE WATCHER IN THE WOODS, ER), Brian Andrews (THE GREAT SANTINI, THREE O'CLOCK HIGH), Nick Castle (writer of ESCAPE FROM NEW YORK, THE BOY WHO COULD FLY). Written by Carpenter and Debra Hill (THE FOG, REBEL HIGHWAY). Edited and production designed by Tommy Lee Wallace (STEPHEN KING'S IT, HALLOWEEN III: SEASON OF THE WITCH).

Best One-liner: "Death has come to your little town, Sheriff."

HALLOWEEN. The gold-standard for American slashers. Foreboding atmosphere in 5/4 time. A seasonal ode to the boogeyman, that blank slate whom we ourselves illustrate, whose gaps we fill with our innermost fears and deepest uncertainties.

As our subconscious mind paints vivid nightmares as we sleep, so does it adorn the empty mask of Michael Myers: he is whomever we wish him to be. Myers is so formless, Donald Pleasence's Dr. Loomis can't even ascribe a gender: "Don't underestimate it." It is we who give form to The Shape, that "infinitely patient" shadow in the mist, that void, that lurker in the dark.

"Every town has something like this happen," intones the cemetery groundskeeper, and in those words is the history of 20th Century American horror, from H.P. Lovecraft to Ray Bradbury to Stephen King to Wes Craven to David Lynch. No place, no town, and no mind is immune from the horrors of life and the dread of death.

I adore HALLOWEEN. Many of its successors have been garbage. Glorious garbage, usually, but garbage nonetheless. HALLOWEEN was a masterpiece, a perfect storm; a the fervency of youth, the craft of experience, a certain magic of atmosphere. Dean Cundey's cinematography captures a mood and a time and a place, dipping occasionally into that melancholy horror vibe I've written about elsewhere.

Raymond Stella's panaglide work is off the charts: this movie looks far more professional than many of its big budget counterparts.

Carpenter's brilliant score (supposedly written in three days) is exquisite. At one point, two alternating piano keys build a wall of mood that stands taller than a dozen inferior films.

The characters (Jamie Lee Curtis, in particular) are instantly likable. They have real hopes and dreams and feelings; sometimes we eavesdrop on their mundane, high school activities– zoning out in class, talking about boys... at one point Jamie Lee and Nancy Kyes are just driving around and bullshitting and tokin' the reefer and fearin' the reaper (yes, Blue Öyster Cult makes a soundtrack appearance) and it feels like a scene out of DAZED AND CONFUSED. Real life is unfolding, and consequently we care about what happens to these people.

Unlike many of HALLOWEEN's successors, these characters are not token victims or sluts or sacrificial lambs – they're just folks, the genuine article– they could be friends of yours. I'm betting a lot of the credit here belongs to Debra Hill, Carpenter's writing and producing partner, who also also made major contributions to THE FOG and ESCAPE FROM NEW YORK.

I also must point out the wonderful understanding of spatial relationships and the geography of the neighborhood. We always have a grasp of what's happening and where: the Myers house, the high school, the general store, the Strode house, the Doyle house, etc. This is key when it comes to separating HALLOWEEN from the slasher pack. Scenes of terror are far more suspenseful when you can actually understand what's going on. You'd think that would be obvious, but alas...

In any event, others have written quite admirably and extensively about these aspects of HALLOWEEN: I highly recommend J.D. of Radiator Heaven's exploration of Carpenter's craft, as well as John Kenneth Muir's psychological analysis of Mr. Myers. I, as usual, shall devote the remainder of this review to tackling my beloved minutiae: so, without further ado, here are my unlucky thirteen favorite facets of the pumpkin-flavored gem that is HALLOWEEN.

Spoilers will follow, but I assume you've all seen HALLOWEEN already. I hope. If you haven't, in penance you must listen to the Silver Shamrock song from HALLOWEEN III on loop while drinking the contents of a six-demon bag.

#1. Where's the blood?

Incredibly, this film which set a new benchmark for American horror (and in the same year as the gory masterpiece DAWN OF THE DEAD) contains nearly nothing in the blood n' guts department. Our only glimpse of viscera is in the opening scene when Michael stabs his older sister Judith, and, between the slats of his mask, we can barely discern the blood welling from her chest. Ah, the power of psychology: the film is so effectively frightening that many are convinced this thing is an out and out gorefest. Nicely done, Carpy!

#2. The spooky imagery of the inmates wandering the asylum grounds the night of Michael's escape.

It's a subtle, fleeting image, but one that lingers.

#3. Chain-smoking Carpy.

John Carpenter was so stressed out by the making of the film– his most ambitious project to date– that he chain-smoked like a madman. While Annie (Nancy Kyes) investigates this hedge, puffs of Carpy's cigarette drift across the screen. It's very difficult to tell in the screen grab because the smoke blends in with the leaves, but it's the kind of goof that somehow enriches the entire experience.

#4. Michael Myers amid the fluttering laundry.

An oft-imitated scare. It's simple, bold, and in broad daylight. It shouldn't work but, oh boy, it does.

#5. The production design of Laurie Strode's (Jamie Lee Curtis) bedroom.

It's simple and cozy, but with the James Ensor poster and the Raggedy Ann doll, we see a juxtaposition of burgeoning woman and naive youth. And yet both conjure feelings of masks and contortions and the morbidity of childhood. I have always felt that Raggedy Ann has rather macabre implications, and James Ensor's (a Belgian modernist painter of the 19th and 20th Century) work sort of speaks for itself:

Join the party!

#6. A Coupe de Villes cameo!

About a half-hour in, while Jamie Lee and Nancy Kyes drive from point A to point B, on the radio in the background is a generic doo-wop song that proclaims "Shanananana, let's rock, shanananana, let's roll, shanananana, let's twist!" The performers are none other than the Coupe de Villes, the rockin' trio made up of John Carpenter, Nick Castle (who plays Michael Myers and co-wrote ESCAPE FROM NEW YORK), and Tommy Lee Wallace (who co-edited HALLOWEEN, devised the Michael Myers mask, and directed HALLOWEEN III: SEASON OF THE WITCH). You can (and should) read more about the full glory of the Coupe de Villes here, here, and here. And here.

#7. That beautiful moment when Michael Myers casually drives his station wagon behind Donald Pleasence, who has no fuckin' idea. He could've nipped this whole thing in the bud before sundown, had some dinner, and taken a load off at the local Haddonfield pub. I'd watch that movie, for sure! Ah, well.

Anyway, allow me to say a few words about Pleasence's "Dr. Loomis," a character born of dogged, no-nonsense intensity.

He says many ridiculous things in this movie and imbues them with power. He is our Van Helsing. He sets the stakes. He tells us what we're up against. And he sells it. God bless Donald Pleasence.

#8. Carpy's voice cameo as Annie's needy boyfriend Paul.

Paul's kinda fun, kinda sleazy, and absurdly lazy. He browbeats his girlfriend into giving him a free ride ("Come and pick me upppp...") even though she's babysitting and doing laundry and kind of freaked out. This directly leads to her brutal murder. C'mon, though, don't judge– Carpy just wanted a ride! Imagine it: Carpy waiting around on the stoop for a ride that never comes. Hell, I'd watch that movie, too.

#9. The subtle joy Donald Pleasence gets out of frightening children.

While staking out the old Myers place, some trick-or-treaters stumble a little too close to the dangerous site. Pleasence pretends to be the boogeyman and whispers "Get your ass away from there!"

The children take flight, and then Pleasence smiles, utterly pleased with himself.

Even when you're fighting against the existential concept of evil, a man's still gotta get his kicks somewhere.

#10. P.J. Soles is a goddamn blast.

From Riff Randell in ROCK N' ROLL HIGH SCHOOL to Norma in CARRIE, she playfully and lovably embodies every scrappy gal from the 1970s and succeeds in absconding with every scene she appears in. In her final bit, her fate is sealed when she asks her bespectacled boyfriend for a beer, again and again and again.

"Where's my beer?!"

Thanks to her, the "boyfriend who steps out to grab a beer and never comes back" has become a stock figure in horror film. It's truly a cautionary tale, and has stopped many a beer-fetching dead in its tracks.

#11. This one comes courtesy of my girlfriend. The major question she had was, "Where, exactly, are all the parents? Some key party? It was the 70s." She made a good point. Hey, is that why the Sheriff (Charles Cyphers) is so grumpy? He spent his Halloween traipsing around with Donald Pleasence instead of gettin' his freak on with the swingers from EATING RAOUL?

Donald Pleasence: bitter about not being invited to the key party.

On a more serious note...

#12. The neighbor who shuts Laurie out during her moment of need.

Violently pursued by Michael Myers, Jamie Lee Curtis finally makes it out of the house and shouts for help from the next-door neighbor.

A shadow comes to the window and looks her over, and in a nod to Kitty Genovese, shuts the blinds and turns off the porch light.

You really feel Laurie's desperation in this moment, which may actually be the most chilling scene in the film.

#13. The ending. And not simply the banality of the unmasking or the uncertainty behind Michael's disappearance. I mean the final shots of the film:

The void, the breathing, the emptiness.... these are the places we have seen Michael, and now they are empty. But there is not even a whisper of reassurance. The terror never came from Michael– it came from that void. All we really ever had was the void; we projected the rest.

This kind of oppressive foreboding prefigures Carpenter's THE THING, where vacant corridors take on a life of their own in a very similar fashion.