Only now does it occur to me... MUPPETS MOST WANTED

Only now does it occur to me...  that the new Muppet movie series has finally succeeded in recapturing the spirit of the 1980s... by casting Danny Trejo as a prisoner!  And not just any prisoner– while the rest of them have colorful names, Danny Trejo plays... Danny Trejo.

Also, you are not hallucinating– that's Ray Liotta glowering beside him.  And no, that's not an ordinary prison, that is a Siberian gulag.  So let's allow this to sink in for a minute:  we are seeing Danny Trejo and Ray Liotta as prisoners in a Siberian gulag in a Muppet movie from 2014.

I have often made claims that "technically it's not a prison movie unless Danny Trejo's in it" and that "it's technically not an 80s action movie unless Danny Trejo plays a prisoner or Al Leong plays a henchman," so this technically fulfills all requirements...

...and then some.  I mean, just look at this.  Trejo and Liotta involved in a show-stoppin' song n' dance number while their Commandant Tina Fey and Kermit and Miss Piggy and Kermit's evil doppelgänger look on.  I mean, this is kind of why you watch a Muppet movie in the first place.

There's a lot of other quasi-mind-blowing cameos which I shan't spoil, but as long as we're talking the 1980s, I have to mention that Kermit and Miss Piggy are married by Skeletor (Frank Langella).

In the end, I was pleasantly surprised by this movie.  I found it far superior to THE MUPPETS (2011), and a return to madcap form.

Only now does it occur to me... LEE DANIELS' THE BUTLER BASED ON THE ARTICLE "A BUTLER WELL SERVED BY THIS ELECTION" BY WIL HAYGOOD

Only now does it occur to me...  that while John Cusack may not have actually delivered the worst Richard Nixon performance in history, he was probably the most miscast.  Let's take a look at some other cinematic Nixons:

Anthony Hopkins in NIXON.  Probably the best-known cinematic Nixon, and certainly a very well-acted one, but on the whole he's a little miscast and the movie's a touch bloated, I'd say.


Philip Baker Hall in SECRET HONOR.  Probably the most intense Nixon of the bunch, and in a one-man show, to boot.  There's a real intimate, terrifying artistry to his work.

Dan Hedaya in DICK.  My personal favorite.  I would go so far as to say that DICK is a severely underrated movie and one of the smartest comedies of the 90s.  People had been saying for years that Hedaya would make a great Nixon, and of course he did.  I mean, his eyebrows alone are better than Cusack.

 

And who could forget Frank Langella in FROST/NIXON? Oops!  That's the wrong picture.  That's Langella as "Skeletor" in MASTERS OF THE UNIVERSE.  Here's the right one:

 

Another great performance that plays up the more condescending elements of Nixon's persona, the parts of him who always believed he was the smartest man in the room– invulnerable, even when the cold, hard truths were speaking otherwise.

Which leads us back to Cusack.  Who's not even trying.  They put a l'il Nixon nose on him– let's give them that– but that's all they did.  What we're looking at here is still John Cusack, doing a classic awkward Cusack mini-grin... while wearing a l'il Nixon nose.
You know what?  I'm prepared to revise my initial statement:  yes, this is the worst Nixon performance in film history, even worse than Buck McDancer in HOT SHOTS! PART DEUX.

The best thing we can take away from this is the new understanding that Cusack must have thought THE PAPERBOY BASED ON THE NOVEL "THE PAPERBOY" BY PETE DEXTER was actually a brilliant movie, hence his decision to work with Lee Daniels a second time.  (Or maybe it was just the money.)

There's plenty of other strange casting, too–
Why they cast Robin Williams as Eisenhower in a world where J.K. Simmons exists is sort of a head-scratcher:

Alan Rickman always brings some wonderful dickery to his roles, but he's still not quite right for Ronald Reagan:

And Mariah Carey gets her airbrushed face smudged with a little dirt for her role as a poor, 1920s sharecropper (though Lee Daniels employs a similar technique as Susan Seidelman did with Madonna in DESPERATELY SEEKING SUSAN– he keeps the part brief, and mostly non-speaking):

Whew.  Okay.  Three more observations:

#1.  Love the matching figure skater/SOUL TRAIN costumes on Forest Whitaker and Oprah Winfrey in this authentic 1970s tableau:

and I think the movie would have been better served if these outfits had rated more screen time.

#2. It's sort of amusing that Oprah has become so accustomed to award shows, state dinners, and the VIP treatment that she can no longer muster the excitement of attending one for the first time, even when her role demands it:

Unremitting ennui: the price of success

#3.  And finally, the venerable Clarence Williams III– in a bit part that amounts to basically "the Obi-Wan Kenobi of butlers"– might be the only person who walks away from this thing completely unscathed.

Though I still like him best when he's terrifying and teamed with John Glover.

In closing, LEE DANIELS' THE BUTLER BASED ON THE ARTICLE "A BUTLER WELL SERVED BY THIS ELECTION" BY WIL HAYGOOD is no THE PAPERBOY BASED ON THE NOVEL "THE PAPERBOY" BY PETE DEXTER; it's not a hotbed of unintentional comedy or a purveyor of Southern Fried Sleaze-o-Rama, it doesn't induce any spit-takes, grand guffaws, or jellyfish-related urination.  No, it's just a mediocre Oscar grubber that's not too great, but not too bad, either.  It's about as deep as NBC's THE SIXTIES or FORREST GUMP or ACROSS THE UNIVERSE and for some, hell, that's deep enough.

–Sean Gill

Film Review: THE MEN'S CLUB (1986, Peter Medak)

Stars: 2 of 5.

Running Time: 101 minutes.

Notable Cast or Crew: Roy Scheider (JAWS, ALL THAT JAZZ), Frank Langella (FROST/NIXON, BRAINSCAN), Richard Jordan (DUNE '84, THE FRIENDS OF EDDIE COYLE), Craig Wasson (BODY DOUBLE, A NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET III: DREAM WARRIORS), Treat Williams (HAIR, DEAD HEAT), David Dukes (RAWHEAD REX, GODS AND MONSTERS), Stockard Channing (GREASE, SIX DEGREES OF SEPARATION), Jennifer Jason Leigh (SHORT CUTS, SINGLE WHITE FEMALE).

Tag-line:  "The Breakfast Club.  The Big Chill.  And now The Men's Club."
Best one-liner:  Not really.

What is THE MEN'S CLUB?  I saw the damn thing, and I'm not sure I can tell you.  It feels like a play and reads like a block-headed sleazy macho paperback for yuppie dickheads, and yet is performed like a master's class in acting.  It sure doesn't have much in common with THE BREAKFAST CLUB or THE BIG CHILL, as the tag-line promises, though all three works involve groups of people talking to one another indoors about a variety of topics.

From the talented Peter Medak, director of THE RULING CLASS, THE CHANGELING, BREAKIN' THROUGH, and many other favorites of the Junta Juleil canon, comes the story of a group of professional and semi-professional philandering dudes who deliver monologues about how difficult their lives are.  Said dudes are portrayed by some of the finest actors of their generation, from Roy Scheider to Harvey Keitel to Frank Langella to Richard Jordan.  And they're giving it their all...(especially Scheider)... they just happen to be in THE MEN'S CLUB.

I can't really begin to describe THE MEN'S CLUB, nor do I really want to, but I can tell you about the few spectacular things that happen in it.

#1.  The Lee Holdridge soundtrack, which is spit-take inducingly fabulous.  Full of slap-happy slap bass, muted trumpets, wailing saxes, and smoove, easy listening grooves, I was sort of surprised that my walls didn't spontaneously sprout green felt and transform my apartment into a seedy, smoke-filled lounge where Malibu was consumed by the gallon and impromptu soft-core pornography shoots materialized out of thin air.  In short, I'm a little upset that the soundtrack has never received an official release.

#2.  How 'bout a Madame... with a frightening ventriloquist's dummy...

 
....who's peddling a young Jennifer Jason Leigh who's dolled up to sort of look like young Melanie Griffith?  I don't know what to tell you.


#3. I swear Harvey Keitel's contracts must include nudity in them.  They have to.  It's like how Van Damme's contracts must include splits and Burt Reynolds' must include bar-fights and Bronson's must have involved dummies plummeting from great heights. 

Anyway.

#4.  Frank Langella, reborn via midlife crisis into a suspender-wearing, post-80s New Wave makeup wearing-dude who looks like an extra from the Elton John "I'm Still Standing" music video.  I can't believe my eyes.


So there you have it– all the highlights of THE MEN'S CLUB without having to actually watch it.  Phew.

–Sean Gill

Film Review: BRAINSCAN (1994, John Flynn)

Stars: 4.1 of 5.

Running Time: 96 minutes.

Tag-line: "Wanna play? I dare you."

Notable Cast or Crew: Edward Furlong (TERMINATOR 2, "Livin' on the Edge" music video) , Frank Langella (MASTERS OF THE UNIVERSE, FROST/NIXON), T. Ryder Smith (off-Broadway theater star, winner of a Drama Desk Award), David Hemblen (THE SWEET HEREAFTER, TOMMY BOY), Amy Hargreaves (MICHAEL CLAYTON). Music by George S. Clinton (HELLBOUND, AMERICAN NINJA 2).

Best one-liner: "That outfit's totally bitchin'!" –"You think so?" "I know so. You look like that one girl in that one video by what's his face. Only better."

BRAAAAAAINSCANNNNNNNNNNN!!! That's right, folks, we're talkin' BRAINSCAN. Now, on occasion, I get a little too excitable about the movies that I watch and I'm perhaps prone to a little exaggeration. Under different circumstances, I might be labeling BRAINSCAN a masterpiece. Instead, maybe I'll simply say that it's a thousand times better than it ought to be. The reason for that might have something to do with the fact that its directed by John Flynn (THE OUTFIT, ROLLING THUNDER, OUT FOR JUSTICE), a master craftsman, "get 'er done"-style filmmaker who had more in common with Hawks, Peckinpah, and Fuller than anyone on Earth who you'd assume to be directing BRAINSCAN. How he ended up directing material worthy of R.L. Stine is anybody's guess, but here we are, so let's take a look at it.

On the surface, it seems a bit like a mash-up of TOTAL RECALL and VIDEODROME as written by, as I said, perhaps R.L. Stine for his FEAR STREET series. (For those not familiar, R.L. Stine was kind of the 1990's Stephen King for kiddies.) Brian Owens (HAPPY HELL NIGHT) and Andrew Kevin Walker's (SLEEPY HOLLOW, SE7EN) screenplay is certainly an enjoyable enough, twist n' turn-filled narrative, but it feels like an R-rated episode of EERIE, INDIANA (at best) or GOOSEBUMPS (at worst). On the page, it could certainly go either way. But Flynn grabs ahold of it, wrestles it, and emerges with an atmospheric, surprisingly immersive work of cinema!

Immediately, you can tell something strange is going on when you hear the opening theme (composed by George S. Clinton, whose most notable credits include several Cannon Films and the AUSTIN POWERS series), and instead of rootin'-tootin' honkytonk and wacky piano (as George S. Clinton is certainly known for), you hear soothing, foreboding strains- guitar reverb, ominous synths. Evidently somebody's Brainscan'd George S. Clinton and replaced him with some fusion of Angelo Badalamenti, Howard Shore, and Mychael Danna! And speaking of Egoyan (Mychael Danna is Canadian filmmaker Atom Egoyan's composer), BRAINSCAN almost feels like one of his films! (He did EXOTICA, THE SWEET HEREAFTER, THE ADJUSTER, SPEAKING PARTS, and FAMILY VIEWING, among others.) The gloomy, direful atmosphere; the engaging, gradual presentation of media commentary; the forlorn voyeurism; the muted, glossy, impersonal nature of society... in other words, Flynn is not going the R.L. Stine route. That 'Egoyan feeling' is amplified by the fact that David Hemblen (an actor who has appeared in ten Egoyan films) appears here as a disapproving teacher.

Now I can't find any interviews with Flynn which reference BRAINSCAN, but I still feel as if I can say with certainty that he had Egoyan on his mind.

But what the hell is BRAINSCAN, exactly?, the uninitiated are likely wondering. Well, I'll tell you. It's "the ultimate experience in interactive terror."

Edward Furlong plays Michael, a horror flick-obsessed, denim-clad lad who operates a film club at his school (where they screen movies like DEATH DEATH DEATH- PART II). He's one of those 80's and early 90's movie teens who has a bedroom tricked out with all sorts of ridiculous gadgets, sculptures, bizarre props, and a creepy virtual butler- a rich tradition embraced by everyone from Ferris Bueller to Pee-Wee Herman to Slater in PUMP UP THE VOLUME. Furlong's a rich kid, his dad is out of town, and, curious about this new 'Brainscan' CD-ROM game that's the talk of the town, he decides to give it a whirl. His absent father exists only as a disembodied voice on a non-responsive machine (voicemail), whereas Brainscan is immediate, immersive, and personal. He calls the 1-800 number (more on this in a bit) and talks to a human who calls him by name! Is there really any choice? Bring on Brainscan!

Now, it's basically Dario Argento meets Virtual Reality, and you play as a black-gloved malfeasant who murders people in their sleep. Sounds like a great game, right? Well, morbid little Furlong seems to like it just fine.

Oh yeah, and before I forget: the game is hosted by THE TRICKSTER, a freak-dancing CD-ROMMY "Freddy Krueger meets Drop Dead Fred"-type who wears a nose ring, eye-liner, long pimp fingernails, a fiery red mohawk skullet, and is, in short, the greatest thing to happen to the movies since the advent of sound.

THE TRICKSTER LIVES INSIDE YOUR TV

He's played with incomparable élan by the Drama Desk Award-winning T. Ryder Smith, who maybe you recognize from the American theater, perhaps from Sarah Ruhl's acclaimed PASSION PLAY where he played such figures as Queen Elizabeth, Adolf Hitler, and Ronald Reagan.

Yeah, this guy is amazing. He leaps and bounds and gesticulates with a Shakespearian panache and animal intensity.

I'm reminded of Scott Cohen's astounding performance as 'Wolf' in THE 10TH KINGDOM. Why the hell don't these theater guys get more work?! Would I rather watch some pretty-boy WB douche brood around in a stagnant movie with bad blue 'indie' filters, or would I rather watch the Trickster surge through a film like a flash flood, exuding psychotic magnetism and tearin' the hell outta the joint? 100% of the time, I am choosing The Trickster. So there.

Anyway, this is all well and good until Mr. Furlong discovers that Brainscan is not actually a game– there's some sort of ALTERED STATES-esque warp and these people are dying for real. And to make matters worse, their feet are turning up in his fridge. (Well, only one foot, to be exact, but you get the idea. And his attempts to dispose of said foot end quite comically with an overeager canine and a nod to YOJIMBO.) Before you know it, a no-nonsense cop- played by the one and only Frank Langella- starts sniffing around, and it's only a matter of time before Furlong's found out...

But then up pops THE TRICKSTER– and, you think you can just give it up and quit like that, Sonny?! Well, not when there's all these CD-ROM discs for you to play before all this is over!

Whew!

Now, John Flynn's vision of suburbia is singular and quite striking. It's the lushest depiction of suburbia I've ever seen– every scene looks as if it was filmed immediately after a light shower. As such, overcast skies and a vague wetness permeate the mise-en-scene- it almost feels like a dreamlike Midwestern rainforest. Furlong is kept pretty sweaty, too- nightmares, hair-raising situations, and the constant taunting of the Trickster can be fairly stressful. It lends the film a certain, tactile aura; all this humidity is almost something you can feel... can place your hands on.

Well, a pool of blood transforms into a CD-ROM, The Trickster engages in trickery, and all manner of mind-bending events occur. There's even a nod to Fritz Lang's THE TESTAMENT OF DR. MABUSE, with some ominous crosscuts of leering African masks during a murder.

Then The Trickster torments our hero with a video camera in what seems to have later been mirrored by David Lynch in LOST HIGHWAY, when Robert Blake eerily brandishes a camcorder.

If David Lynch is a fan of BRAINSCAN... Well, I'm not sure why, but that would make me very happy. (The man's always been exceptionally tight-lipped about his contemporary influences, though, preferring to focus on Tati, Wilder, Hitchcock, or Buñuel.) Annnnyway, the film ends. You think you're safe. And then- I shit you not- THE TRICKSTER HIJACKS THE END CREDITS. So help me God, I love this movie. A little over four stars.

Annnnnnd one last side note:

But back to that 1-800 number. The film flashes the number "1-800-555-FEAR," which is awesome, and could've even been an acceptable title for the film. I thought about what happened when we called the Encyclopedia Britannica Kid, and impulsively, as the film was running, I decided to give it a go. I was pretty excited as I dialed 1-800-555-FEAR. I had it all figured out. "Oh, hello. May I speak to The Trickster? ... No, it's just 'The Trickster.' Big guy. Long nails. Red mohawk skullet. Yes, yes, it's regarding the uh, CD-ROM he sent me? Yes, the Brainscan. Yes, that's correct. Yes, I'll hold." Unfortunately, I was unable to say any of those things- it went straight to a recording which told me to call a 1-900 number, which suspiciously sounded as if it had more to do with talking to sexy singles than Brainscanning. So that's enough of that. But I have to wonder- at one time, was the Trickster's number live? Could unsuspecting kiddies call it up and have the shit scared out of them by a live, mocking T. Ryder Smith? I sure hope so.

-Sean Gill

Film Review: BODY OF EVIDENCE (1993, Uli Edel)

Stars: 2 of 5.
Running Time: 101 minutes.
Notable Cast or Crew: Willem Dafoe, Madonna (DICK TRACY), Joe Mantegna (HOUSE OF GAMES, HOMICIDE), Frank Langella (MASTERS OF THE UNIVERSE, FROST/NIXON), Julianne Moore (SAFE, TALES FROM THE DARKSIDE: THE MOVIE), Anne Archer (FATAL ATTRACTION, SHORT CUTS), Jürgen Prochnow (TWIN PEAKS: FIRE WALK WITH ME, DAS BOOT), Charles Hallahan (THE THING, VISION QUEST). Written by Brad Mirman (HIGHLANDER III, THE GOOD SHEPHERD). Music by Graeme Revell (SIN CITY, CHILD'S PLAY 2).
Tag-line: "An act of love, or an act of murder?"
Best one-liner: "It's not a crime to be a beautiful woman." ALSO: "It's not a crime to be a great lay!"

As promised, BODY OF EVIDENCE is amazingly bad. And it's the sort of bad movie that I don't realllly ever need to see again, not ever. That's not to say that there's no gold here. There is definitely some gold. Joe Mantegna discussing nipple clamps. Frank Langella somberly elucidating how Madonna fingering herself drove him wild.

Langella hangs his head in shame. Mantegna closes his eyes and pretends it's a Mamet picture.

Willem Dafoe declaring the self-evident truth, "It's not a crime to be a great lay." Julianne Moore doing that whole 'anguished wife' routine.

"How did you get those candle wax burns? TELLL ME!!!"

There are a lot of great actors here who were happy to collect a paycheck and then head for the fuckin' hills. Then there's Madonna. Madonna is not a 'great actor.' She's probably at her best in DESPERATELY SEEKING SUSAN, where the role cleverly called for her to only ‘look cool’ and keep the talking to a minimum. Here, she's talking a LOT, and she's trying real hard to be ‘sexy.’


Welcome to Sexytown, U.S.A. Population: Madonna. And why is a heavenly choir playing? Well, in my opinion, that unanswered question finds resolution nearly 20 years later with 'ANTICHRIST.'

And the forced sexiness is utterly macabre. The pacing is EXCRUCIATING. How long can we watch Madonna alternatingly pour hot wax and champagne on Dafoe's nipples as stock, steamy Spanish guitar plays? Well, watch the movie and find out.

WAXXX–

Dafoe is a goddamned trouper.

DAMN this movie is so KINKY and FORBIDDEN. It depicts scenes involving HANDCUFFS, CLOTHES-RIPPING, and other such HANKY-PANKERIES!

Sometimes a mere picture is worth one thousand words.


Madonna cops a feel. Dafoe's look says it all.

Wait one minute! Whose manly hand is whose?


Madonna prepares to smash a light bulb and then have sex on top of it. I think BODY OF EVIDENCE was hoping to instill a Pavlovian reaction within the viewer where broken glass = arousal. If that's the case, you probably shouldn't watch TOTAL RECALL right afterward.

Anyway, I forgot to mention that all of this accompanies a legal thriller. The trial is overseen by an incredibly sassy judge who is always insisting that "I will not allow this trial to become a circus!," but it always does anyway.

"I WILL NOT ALLOW THIS TRIAL TO BECOME A CIRCUS!!!"

The spectators are those same eternally muttering, easily shocked people from every courtroom drama who mumble "Rhubarb, rhubarb, rhubarb" into their cupped hands every few minutes. Whew.

There's an awesome vintage featurette on the DVD which has all manner of trite sound bites like Madonna saying "She's a complicated woman- I can relate to that" and a sold-out Mantegna remarking that "we only have phenomenons like [Madonna] at certain intervals in history." However, Dafoe stands fast when asked about the Material Girl: "She's always investigating, uh, new things." Ha!

Madonna tries new things, the likes of which we haven't seen since at least DICK TRACY.

Two stars.

-Sean Gill

P.S.

Mantegna informs Dafoe of the forthcoming sequel: BODY OF EVIDENCE II: HARDBODIES.


P.P.S. And don't worry, Willem, this sort of thing happens to the best of 'em.