Showing posts with label Stacy Keach. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Stacy Keach. Show all posts

Monday, January 27, 2014

Television Review: BODY BAGS (1993, John Carpenter & Tobe Hooper)

Stars: 4.2 of 5.
Running Time: 95 minutes.
Tag-line: "Zip yourself in tight!"
Notable Cast or Crew:  Stacy Keach (FAT CITY, NEBRASKA), Robert Carradine (REVENGE OF THE NERDS, THE LONG RIDERS), Mark Hamill (STAR WARS, CORVETTE SUMMER), David Warner (WAXWORK, TRON), Alex Datcher (PASSENGER 57, NETHERWORLD), Twiggy (THE BOYFRIEND),  Deborah Harry (of Blondie and TALES FROM THE DARKSIDE: THE MOVIE), Tom Arnold (TRUE LIES, SONS OF ANARCHY), Peter Jason (DEADWOOD, PRINCE OF DARKNESS), David Naughton (AN AMERICAN WEREWOLF IN LONDON, MIDNIGHT MADNESS), George "Buck" Flower (THEY LIVE, THE FOG, BACK TO THE FUTURE), John Agar (TARANTULA, MIRACLE MILE), Charles Napier (THE BLUES BROTHERS, THE SILENCE OF THE LAMBS).  With cameos by Tobe Hooper, Wes Craven, Sam Raimi, Greg Nicotero, Roger Corman.  Written by Billy Brown and Dan Angel (GOOSEBUMPS the TV series).  Special effects by Rick Baker, Greg Nicotero, Howard Berger  Produced by Carpy, his missus Sandy King, and Dan Angel.  Music by Carpy and Jim Lang (IN THE MOUTH OF MADNESS, RANSOM).  Cinematography by Gary Kibbe (A FEW GOOD MEN, THEY LIVE).
Best One-liner:  "Natural causes, natural causes, natural causes...  I hate natural causes!  Give me a big stab wound to poke at and then I'm happy."  –John Carpenter as "The Coroner"

[Note that this is not intended as a continuation of "Poor Man's Carpy," as though that series will live to see the light of day again, BODY BAGS is in no way indicative of a poor man's anything– this is vintage "Forgotten Carpy."]

In a familiar, darkened alley, two Thunderbird-swilling cineastes make small-talk:

"Watcha got there?"
–"BODY BAGS."
"What's that?"
–"Only the best omnibus horror movie you've never seen."
"That's a bold claim.  Put it in terms I can understand."
–"Not as good as CREEPSHOW.  Better than CREEPSHOW 2.  Slightly better than TRILOGY OF TERROR.  About on par with TALES FROM THE DARKSIDE: THE MOVIE."
"Why have I never heard of this?"
–"Well, back when HBO was on the rise and TALES FROM THE CRYPT was enjoying widespread popularity, Showtime decided it was time to get into the horror anthology game and enlisted the likes of John Carpenter and Tobe Hooper.  Carpenter ultimately decided that he couldn't make the work he wanted to for the budget they were offering, so Showtime called it even and made a three-part anthology TV movie."
"Who hosts it?  A rip-off Cryptkeeper?"
–"Funny you should ask.  Why don't you sit down for a spell?"
"Why?"
–"Trust me, you're gonna want to be sitting down for this."
"Okay, so who's their Cryptkeeper?"
–"He's called 'The Coroner,' and it's none other than.... John Carpenter himself! 

Wearing scrubs, ghoulish makeup, and a sort of Beetlejuice-ish demeanor, Carpy does not disappoint as he mugs about, dropping one-liners, handling disembodied heads, and the like.  He's no actor, but it doesn't matter, because he's having fun."

He's also their MGM lion!

"Nice!"
–"Yeah, right?  Check it out– here he's making himself a martini out of formaldehyde."

"You said there's ghoul makeup on him?"
–"Yes..."
"Isn't that what Carpy looks like all the time?"
–"Why don't you just shut it."
"Hey, I'm just telling it like it is."
–"Drop it."
"But–"
 –"Annnyway, there are three segments and a frame story.  'The Gas Station,'  'Hair,' and the morgue frame are all directed by Carpenter.  The third segment, 'Eye,' is directed by Tobe Hooper.  All the segments are written by Dan Angel and Billy Brown, whose careers as R.L. Stine TV-adapters should give you a pretty good idea of their strengths and their weaknesses.  Angel, Carpy, and Sandy King (Carpy's missus) produced everything, though, so it has a very uniform feel."
"What about the music?  Those TV people didn't clip Carpy's wings, did they?"
–"It's Carpenter and Jim Lang (his collaborator on IN THE MOUTH OF MADNESS), so it's definitely a more rockin' soundtrack, as opposed to one of pulsing dread like PRINCE OF DARKNESS.  They keep it light for the most part (I'd compare it to the high-reverb drums and roaming bass of BIG TROUBLE IN LITTLE CHINA), dipping into TWIN PEAKS-ish jazz for the comedic moments.  But it's certainly capable of conveying a darker atmosphere when necessary, sometimes veering into CHRISTINE-ish territory or something similar to Mike Oldfield's 'Tubular Bells' from THE EXORCIST."
"So it feels cinematic?"
–"Oh yes.  And Gary Kibbe (Carpenter's cinematographer in his post-Dean Cundey era, from 1987-2001) provides very workmanlike, evocative visuals, using wide-angle lenses and dolly set-ups to great effect.  It doesn't feel like something intended for the small screen, not by a long shot."
"Sounds pretty good.  Why don't ya tell me about the segments?"
–"Alrighty.  So the first one is called 'The Gas Station,' and yep, it takes place entirely at a gas station.  In tone, it feels a lot like a condensed version of HALLOWEEN (Haddonfield, Illinois even gets a mention!), but it's not too shocking, just a straightforward, well-made suspense piece with those two key elements: a slasher and an unsuspecting lassie.  Alex Datcher is our likable heroine, a college gal who's first time pulling the night-shift solo proves to be a memorable one.
 
The Carradine named Robert shows her the ropes (it's got that nice blue-collar cred that you see in everything from THE THING to VAMPIRES), and Carpenter uses a great economy of storytelling to
introduce the characters, the rules, and the spatial relationships. 
As her shift begins, we're treated to a rogue's gallery of horror cameos and familiar faces, and it almost begins to develop a quirky, Jim Jarmusch-style flavor of 'late nite slice-of-life,' like NIGHT ON EARTH or MYSTERY TRAIN.  There's 'Buck' Flower, playing (predictably) a scary hobo:
a sleazy Peter Jason wearing a brilliantly awful tie (just as bad as Chris Sarandon's in BORDELLO OF BLOOD, for sure) and urging our heroine to party:
AN AMERICAN WEREWOLF IN LONDON's David Naughton as what seems to be an unassuming, decent guy:
and Wes Craven
as a creepy fellow buying himself some cigarettes."
"Oooh, Wes Craven is sooo scary.  I'm afraid he's gonna teach me some liberal arts or something."
–"Oh, hush.  Then it kicks into high gear, and Sam Raimi gets a cameo as a corpse tumbling out of a locker:
 "Aieee!"
–"I must make an aside to mention that in the special features, Carpenter speaks at length about the production, saying 'I thought Wes was especially smooth in his part,' for instance, and of course, he knows everyone's name– except Sam Raimi, whom he refers to as 'Uh...Spider-Man.'  I find this for some reason to be fantastic."
–"Ha!"
"Anywho, then the shit hits the fan and doesn't let up.  I won't spoil how it ends, but it has a nice visceral payoff while remaining entirely uncomplicated."
–"Sounds pretty good.  What's next?"
"Probably my favorite segment of the three:  'Hair.'  It's played more for laughs than the others, but it's got some freakier elements to it, too.  One of my favorite actors, Stacy Keach, plays a man undergoing a midlife crisis:  he's losing his hair and letting it ruin his life.
 
For what is ostensibly a 'comedy' segment, Keach infuses his role with an incredible pathos– his misplaced anger, helpless frustration, and existential sadness play effortlessly across his face.
(Keach and Carpenter got along quite well, with Keach comparing Carpenter in the special features to John Huston.  They'd work together again on ESCAPE FROM L.A., with Keach taking on the Lee Van Cleef role.)
Keach tries everything– hairpieces, posh stylists, painted on hair– until he sees genre legend David Warner in an infomercial, promising the results that Keach has found elusive:
 
 
He makes an appointment and meets with Dr. Warner and his lovely nurse, Debbie Harry (of Blondie!) who, in an apparent in-joke, does not have her trademark blonde locks.  Coupled with VIDEODROME and her TALES FROM THE DARKSIDE appearances, I think we have to refer to Debbie as a bona fide genre actress!

Warner's having a blast, too– you get the sense that they were on set for a day or so, and just went for it."

"I do loves me some David Warner."
–"Yeah.  I wish he'd get more high-profile work.  I thought for sure TITANIC would have opened some doors for him.  Eh.  Annnyway, Keach receives the hair transplant,

and his childlike glee could move mountains.  Keach is simply phenomenal.  I'd like to take a moment to plug FAT CITY, too, a Huston film that he's masterful in.
"Stay on topic!  So what happens?"
–"As if I'd tell ya.  Let's just say that the hair may have a mind of its own..."

"Well, now I'm intrigued."
–"Good.  So that brings us to our final segment, 'Eye,' the Tobe Hooper one.  It's by far the weakest, but I don't think that's entirely Hooper's fault.  Mark Hamill plays a baseball player with a mustache and a Southern accent who gets into a car wreck and loses his eye.

 Luckily, his doctors (including Roger Corman, pictured center)

have developed a technique for eye transplants, and they think he's a candidate for a new and exciting transplant surgery."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa.  Mark Hamill plays a guy who gets in a car accident and needs reconstructive surgery to save his career?  Don't you think that hits a little close to home?"
–"Yeah, I suppose so.  But Hamill's a trouper.  He even shows his balls in this movie."
"WHAT?  Why are you telling me this?"
–"I don't know.  It seems like it'd be a trivia question.  'What movie does Luke Skywalker show his balls in?'"
"Correct me if I'm wrong, this segment is called 'Eye,' not 'Eyeballs.'  Right?"
–"Yep.  It's just that thing where if you see something traumatizing, you have to tell someone else to lessen your own trauma.  It's this damn HD era, really."
"Well, thanks a lot.  Moving on..."
–"Well, after the eye transplant, he starts wearing sweatpants and having eerie visions and mistreating his wife Twiggy."

"Twiggy?  There's some pretty weird casting in this movie."
–"Yeah, there really is.  In the special features, Sandy King says that some of the Carpenter stable came from her connection to Walter Hill's THE LONG RIDERS, where she was script supervisor.  This includes Stacy Keach, Peter Jason, and Robert Carradine.  As for the others, I have no idea."
"Wow, so Peter Jason is in six John Carpenter movies, just because of a random connection on THE LONG RIDERS.  Pretty cool."
 –"Yeah.  Anyway, Hamill tries to uncover where the unholy eye came from, and..."
 
"Well, where did it come from?  Lemme guess.  A convict that was executed?  Right?  Am I right?"
–"Oh, hush.  I'm not saying.  Also, his eye surgeon has the vanity plate, 'I BALL,' which I thought was worth mentioning."
 
"Fascinating." 
–"Yeah.  Then we round things out with the frame story, which closes with morgue attendant cameos by Tom Arnold and Tobe Hooper and delivers one final twist."
 
"Nice.  This all sounds up my alley."
–"I highly recommend it.  It's out on a new(ish) DVD/Blu-ray release from Scream Factory, and I gotta say, it looks great.  So let me leave ya with one last sentiment, courtesy of The Coroner:
 
NIGHTY-NIGHT!"

 -Sean Gill

Wednesday, January 13, 2010

Film Review: NOT QUITE HOLLYWOOD (2009, Mark Hartley)

Stars: 3.9 of 5.
Running Time: 103 minutes.
Notable Cast or Crew: Interviews or archive footage with everyone from Richard Franklin (ROADGAMES), Jamie Lee Curtis, Stacy Keach, Dennis Hopper, George Miller (MAD MAX), Russell Mulcahy (HIGHLANDER), Ted Kotcheff (RAMBO, WEEKEND AT BERNIE'S), George Lazenby (ON HER MAJESTY'S SECRET SERVICE), Steve Railsback, Jeremy Thomas, Quentin Tarantino, Rod Taylor, Bruce Beresford (BREAKER MORANT), Alan Arkin, Henry Silva, Broderick Crawford, David Hemmings, Christopher Lee, Olivia Hussey, James Mason, George Peppard, Donald Pleasence, and Lesley Ann Warren.
Tag-line: "Finally an Aussie film packed full of boobs, pubes, tubes ... and a bit of kung fu."

Grab a "thick, crunchy hamburger," sit back, relax, and enjoy a measured overview of that oft-forgotten, oft-maligned genre: 'Ozploitation.' Now, there's not much depth to this film, the reality-TV style (different, generic, upbeat music cues every 25 seconds; the inability to hold a shot for more than 2 seconds) is frequently obnoxious, and a lot of your enjoyment will hinge on your ability to tolerate Quentin Tarantino, but the absurd clips, psychotic personalities, and colorful anecdotes go a long way.

If you can't even stomach this photograph, you'd do best to stay away.

See the one-armed censor; endless vomit; a Mondo-style film called AUSTRALIA AFTER DARK; Henry Silva dangling 70 feet above the ground without a safety net; clips from Russell Mulcahy's early 'giant warthog' flick RAZORBACK; and endless, marauding biker gangs, scouring the Outback for people to fuck with! You hear about a washed-up David Hemmings' drunken directorial style, Richard Franklin’s big break with the coma-horror flick PATRICK (immediately ripped-off by Italians, and later by KILL BILL), the xenophobia faced by Jamie Lee Curtis and Stacy Keach while starring in Franklin's ROADGAMES, Steve Railsback delivering semi-coherent rants, and Dennis Hopper pronounced dead while filming MAD DOG MORGAN.

Hopper, in fact, survived.

Witness the miracle of marsupial werewolf birth in HOWLING 3:

live ammo fired at Railsback in TURKEY SHOOT (a.k.a. ESCAPE 2000 on DVD):

Railsback shot at FOR REAL.

George Lazenby on fire for real in THE MAN FROM HONG KONG; a possessed game of Chinese Checkers in HARLEQUIN (a.k.a. DARK FORCES on DVD); and majestic, SHINING-style, bone-chilling cinematography in NEXT OF KIN. You’re forced to respect these filmmakers’ ingenuity, their commitment to trash cinema, and their nonchalance about risking life and limb for movies about giant alligators, killer bikers, or naked ladies who take lots of showers. It’s almost like if a dozen quasi-Herzogs were unleashed upon the heyday of American International. So if you can stomach the periodically inane presentation, NOT QUITE HOLLYWOOD is well worth a watch.

-Sean Gill

Monday, November 30, 2009

Film Review: FAT CITY (1972, John Huston)

Stars: 5 of 5.
Running Time: 100 minutes.
Notable Cast or Crew:  Stacy Keach (ROADGAMES, ESCAPE FROM L.A., W., LUTHER), Jeff Bridges (TRON, CUTTER'S WAY), Candy Clark (THE MAN WHO FELL TO EARTH, AMERICAN GRAFFITI), Susan Tyrrell (BIG-TOP PEE WEE, FLESH + BLOOD, ROCKULA).  Based on the novel by Leonard Gardner.  Featuring the song "Help Me Make It Through the Night," by Kris Kristofferson.  Directed by John Huston (THE MALTESE FALCON, THE MISFITS, THE TREASURE OF THE SIERRA MADRE).
Tag-line: "The surprise hit of this year's Cannes Film Festival!"
Best one-liner:  "You can count on me!  You...can...count....on me!"

Once again I have been floored by the venerable Mr. Huston. FAT CITY doesn't present fights between formidable competitors; it presents wearied, battered husks of men who stumble and swipe at each other haphazardly...
I guess there was a dream at the end of the line once, but it now it's all so hazy they can't quite remember. And to say that it's better when they're not in the ring is to delude yourself: if it's not swigging hooch out of a brown paper bag while doing migrant work or (literally) beating your brains out on a jukebox, it's passing out at a dingy rat-trap in your tighty-whities, debating whether or not it's worth it to get out of bed. 

Stacy Keach is a washed-up fighter in a world without meaning. Huston strips him down to nothing- a tragic loser with a hare-lip- and from the nothingness, Keach creates a hopeful, vital man eternally numbed by booze and misfortune. This film is probably the most brilliant illustration of broken dreams and the "I'll do great things...tomorrow" mentality that I've ever seen. But this is not an exercise in building up characters just to bring them down- Huston languidly lays it out with nothing but humanity and pathos.

And I don't believe anyone has ever directed 'drunk' better than Huston (UNDER THE VOLCANO, THE MISFITS). None of this 'over the top' shit. 
These people seem LOADED for real, and they clash with the loudmouthed desperation and mutual self-destructiveness of flailing, blinded junkyard dogs.
 Susan Tyrrell delivers, without exaggeration, one of the finest performances in film. She's a sloppy drunk, a sad puppy, and a raving lunatic wrapped in one, trying to find the meaning of her wrecked life at the bottom of a bottle. 

Jeff Bridges and Candy Clark play the youngsters, about to take an unfortunate trip through the same meat-grinder.
 It's a vicious circle with no solution, short of a reinvention of what it means to be human. Bleak, grimy, and shockingly REAL.  One of the great films.
Five stars.

-Sean Gill

Side note:  It must be said that Aronofsky's THE WRESTLER would not and could not exist without FAT CITY.

Friday, July 17, 2009

Film Review: ROADGAMES (1981, Richard Franklin)

Stars: 4 of 5.
Running Time: 101 minutes.
Notable Cast or Crew: Stacy Keach and Jamie Lee Curtis (both John Carpenter favorites, with the former in BODY BAGS and ESCAPE FROM L.A. and the latter in HALLOWEEN and THE FOG).
Tag-lines: "The truck driver plays games... The hitchhiker plays games. And the killer is playing the deadliest game of all!"
Best one-liner: "Hors d'ouevre, Boswell?"

A lot of people like to blather on about how Brian de Palma is the most noteworthy Hitchcock disciple, but I gotta say that the Aussie Richard Franklin (PSYCHO II, CLOAK & DAGGER) seriously deserves his due. I find myself increasingly impressed by his engaging stories (which exquisitely blur the line between paranoid fantasy and reality), his obsessive attention to aesthetic and aural detail, and his ability to duplicate that elusive Hitchcock atmosphere with such confidence that he doesn't need to pour in gratuitous heapings of sex and violence to mask his own insecurities (like de Palma).

But on to ROADGAMES: Stacy Keach is brilliant as our jocular, overeducated truck driver, or, I should say, a man who at the moment happens to drive a truck. He lives only to share his internal monologue with his dingo, Boswell, and to dazzle the unsuspecting hitchhiker with his encyclopedic knowledge of Bronte and Pope, his rapier wit, his stylish innuendo.

He is a man with boundless imagination, capable of transforming his cab into Madame Geoffrin's salon, his harmonica noodlings into 'Eine kleine Nachtmusik,' and a fellow traveler into Jack the Ripper- or maybe he's not imagining things at all...

Teaming up with hitchhiking runaway heiress Jamie Lee Curtis, Keach becomes an amateur sleuth par excellence- he just needs some sleep, or perhaps a few more pills, to avoid the frame and unravel the enigma.

Franklin tautly and gleefully imparts his tale with little slices of pure cinema: the killer lurks behind a victim as she tunes a guitar- the pitch rising with each step- this diegetic sound cleverly replacing what could have involved a cliched musical score.


A 360-degree pan in a roadhouse (as Keach tries to call the cops) is a mini-master's course in filmmaking- a natural rhythm is established by the inviting noises of a pinball machine, the reactions of the patrons are gradual and believable, and a macabre mural is revealed at the perfect moment. Bravo! I know Hitch would be proud. Four stars.

-Sean Gill

Friday, April 10, 2009

Film Review: ESCAPE FROM L.A. (1996, John Carpenter)


Stars: 4 of 5.
Running Time: 101 minutes.
Notable Cast or Crew: Kurt Russell (who not only stars, but got his sole screenplay credit for this film), Peter Fonda, Pam Grier, Steve Buscemi, Stacy Keach, Cliff Robertson (here, as the President, previously as the Oscar-winning "Charley," Hugh Hefner in STAR 80, and the unlucky ventriloquist in THE TWILIGHT ZONE's "The Dummy"), Peter Jason, Bruce Campbell.
Tag-lines: "Plan your escape!" AND "Snake is back."
Best one-liner: "Welcome to the human race."

So basically this is a remake of ESCAPE FROM NEW YORK. And that's not a problem. As long as John Carpenter is doing the remaking, that's totally cool. I wish he'd do more. Almost every element from the first installment is reprised here: Kurt is still Snake. There's a con perpetrated by the establishment to get Snake to work for the man. He has to go into a major American city that's been separated from the populace for moral reasons to accomplish a goal.

(And early in the '08 primary season, when Mike Huckabee was doing well, I could have sworn that the events of this film were going to come true.

Eh, they probably still will.) He's put up to it by a hardass (Stacy Keach here almost succeeding in the impossible task of filling Lee Van Cleef's Herculean shoes).

He meets a wacky guy who will help (Buscemi here kind of replacing Borgnine AND Harry Dean Stanton). There's an expendable female (A.J. Langer is no Barbeau). A sporting contest (a deadly basketball game replacing the ball-bat cage match), the titular escaping, and a finale where Snake turns the tables on those D-bags who put him up to this. Oh, wait, I left out one detail. Georges Corraface, as the Che Guevera-esque villain, is no Isaac Hayes.

Let me say that again. GEORGES CORRAFACE IS NO ISAAC HAYES. And I'm a little sick of the whole 'villain you thought was a revolutionary is really just a common thief' plot point that it feels like has been in every single action movie since Alan Rickman did it in DIE HARD. Alright, now that we got that out of the way, this is a damn fun movie. A lot of the shortcomings are nullified by the fact that Pam Grier plays a badass post-op (?) trans woman.

Like most Carpenters, it's got an awesome, mostly self-composed soundtrack, and an existential ending that sure has got balls. It's a bold ending, and I think that we'd all be better off if Snake actually were to do what he does in the film, which I shan't reveal here. "Welcome to the human race," indeed. Damn.

Alright, Snake, here are four stars to wedge and ram into various orifices of "the Man." John and Kurt, let's get it together and ESCAPE FROM EARTH.

-Sean Gill