Showing posts with label Rob Bottin. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Rob Bottin. Show all posts

Tuesday, October 5, 2010

John Carpenter Fanfiction: CARPY & THE CAP'N- PART 2: RETURN TO POINT REYES (2010, Sean Gill)

CARPY & THE CAP'N:
A NEW WORK OF JOHN CARPENTER FAN-FICTION
BY SEAN GILL


Author's Note: If you missed Part I: Los Angeles Prelude, may I suggest that you read it before proceeding.


PART II.
RETURN TO POINT REYES.

6.
6:35 P.M. June 21, 1992. The Old Western Saloon. Point Reyes, California.

The fifth day of the shoot had just come to a close, and John ruminated upon on the previous week's events while sitting by a pot-bellied stove and sipping on a bourbon. The film had been beset by a number of problems, but the cast and crew were still keeping their heads above water- so to speak. When he'd arrived on the 15th, though the actors' call wasn't for two days, Dennis Dun was already there, getting the lay of the land and doing some research on his character.
He'd be playing 'Captain Kwon,' and John didn't have the heart to tell him that any preparation might be too much, considering the level of dignity (or lack thereof) which the part entailed.

On the 17th, the rest of the actors arrived- familiar faces like Buck Flower, Peter Jason, Tom Atkins. Unfortunately, a few of the former principals were unavailable- Jamie Lee Curtis was off shooting pick-ups for FOREVER YOUNG, and Adrienne Barbeau was caught up in a miniseries called THE BURDEN OF PROOF, but on such short notice, John considered that it was to be expected. The most notable newcomer was the actor playing 'Blake.' The original Blake, of course, had been obscured by makeup and shadow and was played by special effects artist Rob Bottin. (When John had called to tell him he'd been 'replaced,' Rob had feigned indignation, and they'd joked around for a bit- but Rob was in the thick of it on a third ROBOCOP movie, so they didn't have a chance to adequately catch up.) The new guy was a fearsome gent whose performance as Philip Marlowe had really struck a chord for John- his name was Powers Boothe, and John was confident that he'd get on famously with the ensemble.

Kurt rolled in a bit late ("Captain Ron time" and all that), but John couldn't grouse too much because another actor was even later than he– "Rowdy" Roddy Piper.
Roddy, who would be playing Captain Ron's brother "Nardo," blew in on the afternoon of the 18th, but then insisted so sincerely that he'd misplaced his daily organizer in the wrong kilt and misremembered the date, that John felt strangely guilty for his premature annoyance.

The first scene they shot was a flashback between Captain Ron and Nardo, and John was immediately unsettled by the odd vocal affectation that Kurt was employing.
"What's with the voice, Kurt?"
"AHHHAAA! What, you don't like it, Johnny? It's Cap'n Ron's voice! Gotta keep it for continuity!"
John looked to Sandy, who shrugged her shoulders. "Continuity," she conceded.
John made something of a half-scowl which slowly transformed into a bemused smile. "This is CAPTAIN RON VERSUS THE FOG, after all," he told himself.
"I love the voice!" gushed 'Rowdy' Roddy Piper. "Can I do one, too?"
"Sure, sure," John consented. "Do whatever you want."

John overcame this dangerous initial detachment, and some of the best work thus far had occurred on the second day. It was full of action scenes, and John could settle straight in to the 'pure cinema' aspect of it.
Dennis Dun swished swords and swashed buckles, Powers Boothe looked scary as hell putting 'Rowdy' Roddy into a headlock, and Kurt swung across a deck on a rope like Tarzan. While it wasn't exactly Hawks, he was finding himself embracing the sort of filmmaking that hadn't really been seen since the days of Errol Flynn and Basil Rathbone. But he was finding the horror aspect to be somewhat lacking. Attempts at forcing Kurt and Rowdy Roddy to embrace the spirit of the picture and read H.P. Lovecraft's THE SHADOW OVER INNSMOUTH or THE DUNWICH HORROR ended in failure; but he finally convinced them to read THE TERRIBLE OLD MAN, which was only four pages long. The problem was not illiteracy, per sé– it was Kurt's Malibu n' margarita obsession that had now spilled over onto Roddy. These kitschy hi-jinks were not affecting the quality of their performances, John surmised, but they certainly had to be affecting the quality of their leisure time.


7.
8:19 P.M. June 21, 1992. Near Tomales Bay, California.

John left the bar and, lighting up a cigarette, walked down a dirt road toward the marshes at Tomales Bay. Captain Ron's ship, The Wanderer (a Formosa 51 yacht weathered and painted for a vintage look) was docked by the shore.

On deck, he could see Kurt gyrating and boogieing about for an audience comprised of Buck Flower and Roddy Piper. Buck shook dollar bills about in the air and pumped his fists, apparently believing himself to be in attendance at a dogfight. John felt the brisk sea breeze blowing against his face and through his hair. He heard the silly debaucheries in the distance and gentle waters lapping against the smooth hull of the Wanderer. "This," he thought, "is why I do what I do." He stood there for a long time, eyes closed, his idyll uninterrupted... until a booming voice emerged from the empty space beside him.
"Hell of a sunset, isn't it, Carpenter."
John opened his eyes and turned to see Powers Boothe regarding the seascape with reverence.
"Sure is."
"Blake would see it as an invitation. The cold, beckoning finger which wrenches him nightly from a watery grave."
"What do you see it as, Powers?"
"What I see it as isn't worth a tin shit. While I'm here, I'll look like Blake, I'll talk like Blake. I'll think like Blake."
"Maybe you and Blake just have a lot in common."
Powers stared into his eyes with a coldness and precision which chilled him, and then chuckled, smiling.
"I'll see you around, Carpenter."
"Twelve noon, Captain Ron time."
"No..." Powers focused his eyes on a point in the distance. "I'll see you on 'Blake time.'"
"Oh yeah, when's that?"
"ANYTIME...." Powers winked. "Every time... All time..." Powers continued to mutter as he walked off.
John continued to watch the sunset, but with vague trepidation. "It's good," he thought to himself, "to be on one's toes while shooting a horror picture."



8.
10:45 P.M. July 20, 1992. The Lighthouse at Drake's Bay.

The final day of shooting. It had been a real doozy. They'd managed to pack so much into one day already, and yet they still had one final scene to shoot. John reflected on the day's events and the Herculean accomplishments of the cast and crew:

At 11:00 AM, they'd shot Tom Atkins' nude scene. It was a closed set, but Kurt and Roddy had managed to sneak in, and they made noises approximating flatulence throughout by pumping their cupped hands in their armpits, much to John's chagrin. Gary Kibbe, being a pro of the highest degree, got the shots he needed anyway.

At 2:00, they'd shot Buck Flower's big death scene. In the first FOG movie, Buck played a character named 'Tommy Wallace' who had met a grisly, watery end. In the second, he played a character named 'Lee Wallace ('Tommy's' brother) who met a grisly, watery end. "How come you play such a good hobo?" asked Sandy, a few days into the shoot. Buck grinned a terrible grin from behind his unkempt, fleecy whiskers, and suddenly any answer whatsoever would have been entirely redundant.At 5:00, they shot Blake's monologue, which was one of the centerpieces of the script. There'd been a lot of argument about whether or not Blake should actually speak, but as soon as Powers had been cast, the decision was unanimous: to not let him speak would be a crime. Powers nailed it in one take. When John had congratulated him on his excellent work, Powers curiously closed his eyes and inhaled and exhaled with great purpose. Much later, nearly everyone present would claim they had felt an icy chill and seen a green mist curling under the door, despite the fact that all of the fog machines had been safely powered down...

At 7:00, they did the close-ups for the chase scene. The stunt driving was long in the can (shot in late June), but to finish the scene was something special- you see, it involved a 1958 Plymouth Fury (a car quite familiar to fans of CHRISTINE) being driven by Kurt Russell.
Dennis Dun was riding shotgun, and slinging verbal barbs to and fro with Kurt. John figured that Kurt would heartily enjoy getting behind the wheel of a '58 Fury, but he only razzed him for all the ones he'd needlessly destroyed during CHRISTINE. "It wasn't needless," protested John, but Kurt loudly unleashed some witty jeer about "hot roddin' sonsawbitches" which drew the applause of the crew. John couldn't decide whether it was the sheer number of scenes to stage or Kurt's charming insolence which was making the day dawdle so.

At 9:30, they shot a pick-up of buddy-bonding involving Tom, Dennis, Kurt, and a few local volunteers. The scene was pure Hawks, and it was terrific to finally shoot it.
He'd briefed the boys two days earlier at a screening of RIO BRAVO in his hotel room– "He showed us ourselves, the way we area, the way we should be... that's why you gents are pulling together to engage Blake– he already got his revenge, but still he wants more. All you want to do is live self-determining lives. Blake, conversely, is self-obsessed. Blake is chaos. The title may be CAPTAIN RON VERSUS THE FOG, but that's not how Hawks would've looked at it. It's not the HIGH NOON model: GARY COOPER VERSUS THE GUNSLINGERS. It's the communal model. The RIO BRAVO model. JOHN WAYNE AND DEAN MARTIN AND RICKY NELSON AND WALTER BRENNAN VERSUS THE OUTLAWS. There's just not room for that on the marquee."

Finally, it was 10:45. Time for the final take of the final scene of the final day. The lighthouse shone ominously in the moonlight. A brisk ocean breeze was blowing into shore.
Kurt, Powers, and Roddy were ready and set. John looked through the camera's eyepiece and nodded to Gary Kibbe. He turned and smiled at Sandy. "This is the martini," Sandy declared to the crew.
"Action!"
Captain Ron dashed up the grated metal steps of the lighthouse, Blake's shadowy presence on his heels. Out of nowhere, Nardo leapt on Blake's back and the beach bum wrestled the wraith quite skillfully, allowing Captain Ron to escape to the lighthouse's roof. Enraged, Blake battled, gained the upper hand, and tossed Nardo down a flight of spiraling stairs, incapacitating him and allowing Blake to proceed to the roof where he could settle his affairs with Captain Ron. Blake glided up to the staircase's end and tore the metal portal from its hinges. Slavering like a wild beast, Blake approached Ron and the camera tracked across to a pair of feet, standing their ground quite stoically. Only they weren't the familiar sand-encrusted flip-flops we'd seen moments before– it was a pair of combat boots tightly tucked with gray camouflage pants. The camera tilted upward to reveal...


Wednesday, April 14, 2010

Film Review: THE THING (1982, John Carpenter)

Stars: 6+ of 5.
Running Time: 109 minutes.
Tag-line: "Man is The Warmest Place to Hide."
Notable Cast or Crew: Kurt Russell. Wilford Brimley (EWOKS: THE BATTLE FOR ENDOR, THE FIRM, BORDERLINE), Keith David (THEY LIVE, MEN AT WORK, MISTER ROGERS' NEIGHBORHOOD), Donald Moffat (CLEAR & PRESENT DANGER, TALES OF THE CITY, ALAMO BAY), Richard Masur (MY SCIENCE PROJECT, RENT-A-COP, LICENSE TO DRIVE, STEPHEN KING'S IT), Richard Dysart (PALE RIDER, THE HOSPITAL), Charles Hallahan (FATAL BEAUTY, BODY OF EVIDENCE, VISION QUEST), Peter Maloney (MANHUNTER, JFK), Joel Polis (FATAL VISION, CHEERS), David Clennon (STAR 80, THE FABULOUS STAINS), T.K. Carter (RUNAWAY TRAIN, DOCTOR DETROIT, JEM AND THE HOLOGRAMS), Thomas G. Waites (THE WARRIORS, MCBAIN). Music by Ennio Morricone. Special effects by Rob Bottin (ROBOCOP, TOTAL RECALL), dog creature by Stan Winston. Cinematography by Dean Cundey (WHO FRAMED ROGER RABBIT?, ESCAPE FROM NEW YORK, JURASSIC PARK, BACK TO THE FUTURE, ROAD HOUSE, D.C. CAB)- Sven Nykvist, eat your heart out. Screenplay by Bill Lancaster, son of Burt.
Best one-liner: "I know you gentlemen have been through a lot, but when you find the time, I'd rather not spend the rest of this winter TIED TO THIS FUCKING COUCH!"

Well, apparently, this is the 500th post here at Junta Juleil. Since we've been discussing effective horror remakes versus the muttonheaded ones this week, I wouldn't want to use it to discuss anything besides... THE THING.

Now, if you're one of those unfortunate souls who has never seen THE THING (I'm continually surprised by how many people, even self-proclaimed cinephiles, haven't seen it), stop reading immediately. And don't resume doing whatever you were doing before you started reading this- put on some shoes. Leave your work/school/home behind. Tell them you're going to lunch, or have a medical emergency. Head to the nearest liquor store. You're going to need some J&B. It's not the best scotch on the planet, in fact, it's not even really a scotch (it's a blend), but Kurt Russell seems to like it just fine, so just shut it.

Now you'll need to procure a copy of THE THING. It shouldn't be that hard. It should be easier than getting copies of THE LETTER PEOPLE or HEAVENLY BODIES or BLACK ICE, starring Michael Ironside and Michael Nouri. Also, it's not essential, but if you could get one of these hats before you watch it:

that'd be great, too. Now, watch THE THING, and report back to me immediately. But just in case you're the sort of pantywaist who won't abide by my instructions, I'm not going to give away any major plot developments in this review. Onto the THE THING:

A breakthrough film for John Carpenter. The son finally tops the father––Carpy breaks through and outdoes the Howard Hawks original with this inimitable paranoid masterpiece. It's horror/sci-fi/thriller perfection. It's so evocative you can taste the stinging J&B tempered by Mac's frosty breath, sense the icy dread of the desolate, labyrinthine corridors, 'hear' the resonance of the overpowering silences, and feel the foreboding throb of the Morricone score.

The less the uninitiated knows, the better. This is the 'Red Scare' paranoia film taken through a post-modern meat grinder. Rob Bottin's special effects are so pre-CGI brilliant that it becomes a completely visceral experience.



We are there. Every manifestation of the The Thing is tangible, tactile, viscous, gloppy––it's really there. That tightening in your stomach? That flutter in your heart? That's movie magic. It's real men doing real things, assailed by real monsters (well, almost). There is no disconnect, no cartoonish nonsense, no frills. These are desperate men fighting for survival.

Donald Moffat is an old-school cold warrior wholly unprepared for Lovecraftian foes.

Also, pretty tired of this fucking couch.

Richard Masur is the bewhiskered head of the kennel who toes that fine line between dog-lover and terrifying lumberjack (a major contrast from the 'Dad'-type roles he was confined to, later in the 80's).

RICHARD MASUR IS GOING TO TOUCH YOU THERE

Keith David is the gritty, unwavering, ice-cold survivor, Childs. Keith David does 'pissed off' like nobody else. In fact, somewhere, as we speak, he's probably glowering at someone and doesn't know why.

He's one of those rare actors who can serve as the cornerstone for 'suspension of disbelief' in an action picture. I mean, if you don't, he'll will probably show up on your doorstep to twist you into a pretzel like Sarge always does to Beetle Bailey. (He'll do that to you if you call him David Keith by mistake, too.)

Wilford "AH KIL YEW" Brimley is Blair, who possesses a stout, astounding severity.

AH KIL YEW

The way he grimaces and groans while doing the autopsy-


or the way he stares at the computer readout which says the entire population of Earth could be infected in the next 27,000 hours, then nonchalantly reaches for his gun...


(A scene almost exactly duplicated in LEVIATHAN.)

I guess on my scores of previous viewings, I was too caught up in the gravity, the horror of the situation to realize- as I did in the presence of other audience members while seeing THE THING on the big screen––that Brimley is not only brilliant, he is absolutely hilarious. And you are not laughing at Wilford, ohh no. Nor are you laughing at the fact that his reactions to these given scenarios are so stoically over-the-top. You're laughing because- no matter how ridiculous he gets––you believe every second of it. These are merely the ways that the very real 'Dr. Blair' happens to react when faced with The Thing.

I'm all better now

Kurt Russell really comes into his own in this film. Even the era-defining Snake Plissken (a year prior) is a little too Eastwood-derivative (but can you blame him?- he was hanging out with Lee van Cleef!), but MacReady is all Russell. He can pull off that ridiculous Antarctic winter sombrero, which just might be the most awesome hat in the history of film. He can swig the J&B like no other (watch him make sure he doesn't spill a drop when the Norwegians barrel into camp).

He can fly a chopper through the eye of a needle, brandish a flamethrower with élan, and tell that electronic 8-bit chessmaster (the uncredited voice of Adrienne Barbeau) what's what.

He's a character written by Bill Lancaster, Burt's son- and if you squint a little and clench your jaw, you can almost see the sturdy, benevolent shadow of Burt looming over Mac, like a hardass guardian angel-

In short, he's just the kind of man you hope is on the front lines when the heavy stuff starts to go down.

Six stars. Maybe seven.

-Sean Gill

Wednesday, November 25, 2009

Film Review: THE FOG (1980, John Carpenter)

Stars: 5 of 5.
Running Time: 89 minutes.
Notable Cast or Crew: Tom Atkins (NIGHT OF THE CREEPS, HALLOWEEN III), Adrienne Barbeau (SWAMP THING, ESCAPE FROM NEW YORK), Jamie Lee Curtis (PERFECT, HALLOWEEN), Janet Leigh (PSYCHO, TOUCH OF EVIL), Hal Holbrook (MAGNUM FORCE, THE FIRM), George 'Buck' Flower (THEY LIVE, COUNTRY CUZZINS), Charles Cyphers (BORDERLINE, HALLOWEEN), John Houseman (SEVEN DAYS IN MAY, ST. IVES).
Tag-line: "What you can't see won't hurt you... it'll kill you!"
Best one-liner: "There's something in the fog!"

In the wake of Carpenter's HALLOWEEN, a wave of dumbed-down, trashier, gorier slashers- led by FRIDAY THE 13TH- careened headlong into theaters. But in 1980, before it became basically 'unfashionable,' three of the most atmospheric, minimalist, and genuinely scary ghost stories were able to creep in: THE SHINING, THE CHANGELING, and...THE FOG. From its "old sea dog telling tales 'round the campfire" prologue (with the flawless theatricality of John Houseman):

to its ever-present, soothingly sultry D.J. voiceover (Adrienne Barbeau’s finest hour):

to the majestic, sumptuous seaside photography (worthy of RYAN'S DAUGHTER):

to its Carpy meets Bach soundtrack, THE FOG's scares seem grounded in simpler comforts and nostalgia. But Carpy's film (unlike something actually meant for children, like THE GOONIES) takes its spooky fireside frights very seriously: it's an ornately crafted tale with a genuinely troubling mystique. Released a mere 4 years after America’s bicentennial, THE FOG raises uncomfortable questions of what exactly we celebrate when we memorialize our ancestors- Will nature afford us our selective memories? Our buried secrets? Let us wash our hands of the things we’d rather forget? Well, the residents of Antonio Bay are about to find out.


We have George ‘Buck’ Flower as the same old sleazy drunk he always is, Hal Holbrook as a wino priest (and the only resident burdened by the weight of the past),

Janet Leigh embodying the ‘show must go on’ mentality, her daughter Jamie Lee as a hitchhikin’ non-objectified babe, and Tom Atkins as the magnet for said babe (yeah, I’m as confused as the rest of you).

There are a couple of in-jokes (characters named Dan O’Bannon and Dr. Phibes) and silly exchanges (Atkins is talking about fishing and drinking, Jamie Lee says “What’s it like?”- in regard to fishing- and Atkins replies, “It’s always the same. The room starts spinning…”), but, on the whole this thing is grim, pensive, and, most importantly, smart. Five stars.

-Sean Gill


Friday, May 29, 2009

Film Review: TOTAL RECALL (1990, Paul Verhoeven)

Stars: 5 of 5.
Running Time: 113 minutes.
Notable Cast or Crew: Arnold Schwarzenegger, Michael Ironside, Ronny Cox, Sharon Stone, co-writer Dan O'Bannon (ALIEN, DEAD & BURIED), loose adaptation of Philip K. Dick short story ""We Can Remember It For You Wholesale."
Tag-lines: "They stole his mind, now he wants it back."
Best one-liner: "Who gives a shit what you believe? In thirty seconds you'll be dead, and I'll blow this place up and be home in time for Corn Flakes." or maybe just "See you at the pahhhh-ty, Richter!"

"If I am not me, den who da hell am I?" TOTAL RECALL boldly dares to ask (and answer) the fateful questions, A. "What kind of films would Hitchcock be making if he was alive in 1990?" and B. "What would those films be like if he was taking a dangerous mix of uppers and downers?" Make no mistake, however, this candy-colored insanity is a bona fide masterpiece on a number of levels and a true example (like ROBOCOP) of Verhoeven at the peak of his powers. The special effects are immaculate. There's true cinematic wonder on display, with a real attention to detail and craftsmanship that disappeared with the advent of CGI-only FX. Schwarzenegger has rarely been more likable, and he truly exudes pathos in "the wrong man" (or maybe "wrong mind?") role.

It's a larger-than-life film that calls for larger-than-life acting, and Schwarzenegger's rubbery mug (which is frequently indistinguishable from the wacky prosthetics) is the perfect template upon which to unfold such a tale.


Like the best of Euro-action cinema, this is a movie of over-the-top violence, intense staredowns that defy reality, and a parade of extraordinarily memorable moments (from the Johnnycab inferno to the three-breasted hooker to Arnold's redunkulous muu-muu'd housewife disguise) which stuck in the craws of impressionable kids for decades to come.


Michael Ironside seems to have eaten crazy for breakfast before filming his scenes here, and, as always, he's a vein-bustin' delight to watch.

And like the best of Lynch and Cronenberg, Verhoeven reserves for his villains the most graphic, jaw-dropping fates imaginable- viscerally cathartic to the MAX.

And if you'd like to try a TOTAL RECALL drinking game, try a drink every time someone's eyes are literally bulging outside of their head AND every time someone must hang onto to something, lest they be blown into the vacuum of space.

Of course if you do that, you just might end up with an identity crisis on par with Quaid and Hauser. Five lunatic stars.

-Sean Gill