Wilder Napalm (1993)

I used to frequent a pizza place that, to this day, has never been topped, and no one I ever talk to is even aware of its existence.  The place is called Mama’s Pizzeria, and it is located on Belmont Avenue in Philadelphia.  It’s in an inconspicuous building with limited parking.  The hours of operation are also odd (hey, maybe the joint is a front; Considering the quality of the eats, who am I to judge?).  Inside, there is a small room for takeout orders and a couple of tables for people to dine.  Up a narrow stairway is the main dining room.  I never once ordered a pizza from Mama’s, but I also never needed to.  Rather, they make what is, in my opinion, the single best cheesesteak in the universe.  This delicacy was a little over a foot long, and for around ten dollars, it had more meat and cheese than you can comfortably fit into a human stomach (and colon).  I used to order these things, and it was all I would eat for a weekend.  I don’t know if the caliber of their cheesesteaks has held up some twenty-odd years later, but just the thought of one of those things makes me hungry even now (and I just ate).  The reason I’m promoting cheesesteaks from Mama’s in a review of Glenn Gordon Caron’s Wilder Napalm is because the restaurant had nothing but clown art decorating its walls, and in this film, one of the characters is a clown by profession (a thin connection, sure, but that’s expected from me).  That, and I miss Mama’s cheesesteaks and wanted to extoll their virtues.

Wilder and Wallace Foudroyant (adjective – Striking as with lightning; sudden and overwhelming in effect; stunning; dazzling) haven’t seen each other in five years.  Wilder (Arliss Howard) has a crummy job, but he is also a volunteer firefighter.  His wife Vida (Debra Winger) is a firebug who is due up for release from her house arrest in a few days.  Brother Wallace (Dennis Quaid) is a circus clown who rolls into town on his way to The Big Time and stirs up old resentments and tensions.  And both brothers are pyrokinetic.

Aside from the basic idea of sibling rivalry, the film deals with the dueling desires for normality and notoriety.  Wilder craves a quiet life.  He wears a tie and jacket to work at a Fotomat knockoff in an empty parking lot (guess where the circus sets up shop).  He volunteers to call BINGO at the local rec center (the film is set in Midlothian, and I assume it’s the one in Virginia, not Scotland).  When he is paged to a fire, he stops to hang his jacket on a hanger and lock the work booth door behind him.  To lose control is unacceptable because it irresponsible.  The exception to that rule is when he has sex with Vida, which can get pretty wild, apparently.  Wallace, of course, is the antithesis of Wilder.  He uses his power freely, zapping flies, melting air conditioners, and so forth.  He wants to be famous, to be “somebody.”  His big dream is to appear on Late Night with David Letterman and get rich.  Wallace likes to have fun.  When Vida’s house arrest is over, it’s Wallace who takes her out on the town.  Vida, being the tether between the two, responds to both positively.  She has genuine affection for Wilder and appreciates that he’s a solid guy (he lost a decent job because of her but never resented her for it), though she also feels constrained in their relationship to some degree.  By that same token, she’s attracted to the wild side of Wallace, who knows what she likes.  She is a musician (a cellist, not a rock ‘n roller), and she loves hanging out on top of her and Wilder’s trailer home.  She sets fires just to get the fire crew to come to her house, so she can see Wilder (she’s also an arsonist, thus explaining why she’s enthralled by the Brothers Foudroyant).  The thing about the brothers’ antagonism is that neither is one hundred percent wrong.  Wilder thinks that exposing their powers will only bring harm to them both (“You read Firestarter, didn’t ya?!”) on top of the physical dangers of it (there is a very good reason for this).  Wallace realizes that he and his brother are unique, and, if done correctly, his gift can be used to benefit himself.  The two are so dug in on their positions, that they can’t see the value of the other’s perspective.

For my money, Wilder Napalm could easily have been one of the first Marvel Comics theatrical releases (you know, if it had anything whatsoever to do with Marvel).  Screenwriter Vince Gilligan (who would write quite a few episodes of The X-Files but is far better known for creating and executive producing Breaking Bad and Better Call Saul) and director Caron (also a television alumnus, having created Moonlighting and Medium) understand what makes Marvel’s characters work so well, even if they don’t refer directly to them.  That is, they are people who have real problems to deal with on a daily basis who also just so happen to be superheroes (Wallace has a costume for his Dr. Napalm alter ego, and Wilder sort of gets one by the end).  The most interesting things in Marvel comic books are usually not the obligatory slugfests but the interactions between the characters as they wend their way through their melodramatic lives (true to fashion, this movie contains both).  Borrowing heavily from the famous Stan Lee wisdom of “…in this world, with great power there must also come - - great responsibility,” the filmmakers use the brothers as foils to illustrate this point.  Further, their powers are secondary to their interrelationships while also representing the core of what is between all three of them (when the brothers get worked up, things tend to melt and boil). 

The film is quirky in both good and bad ways.  Four firemen are also an acapella group who provide a chorus for Wilder (they sing a nice version of The Ink Spots’ “I Don’t Want to Set the World on Fire”). Character actors Stuart Varney and M Emmett Walsh both turn up in small but effective roles as the circus owner and the fire chief, respectively.    There is the dry humor of Wilder’s character as he paces through his days (Arliss Howard has always excelled at this).  Winger is genuinely charming as the earnest free spirit.  Wallace, while in his clown persona of Biff, is both unsettling and a tad menacing.  That said, the fighting between the boys turns a little too slapstick at times (there is not only a bonk on the head from a pipe but also a fire extinguisher to the face).  Further, Quaid really overdoes the histrionics most of the time in an attempt to act funny, something which never works.  He even jumps up and down like Yosemite Sam at one point.  Still, the film is breezy, the pyrotechnics are truly impressive, and overall, it’s a very satisfying experience when it’s firing on all cylinders.

MVT:  The originality going on in the script (remember, this was 1993) is admirable.

Make or Break:  The finale cuts loose emotionally and physically, and even though, we know how it will turn out, it still works a treat.

Score:  7.25/10

Invincible Space Streaker (1977)

I have never been skinny-dipping.  I never fully understood some people’s fascination with it, but different strokes and all that.  I have, however, streaked.  Let me set the scene for you.  I was young (I’m guessing less than ten years old), and I was taking my nightly bath.  If I remember correctly, my parents had some friends over, and my calls to my parents were going unheeded (why, I don’t recall).  For some inexplicable reason, I got it into my head that the best way to fix my parents’ wagon was to leap out of the tub and hustle my bare ass down the street.  Which I did.  At that time, we lived on 11^th Street.  I made it to 15^th Street before I was finally nabbed by a couple of my siblings.  I’m surprised I didn’t incur any injuries like slicing my foot open (even more surprising since I used to walk around barefooted a lot back then).  At any rate, I didn’t do it because of any sort of exhibitionism on my part, no desire to show off the goods, such as they were.  It was just an impulse borne of a child’s frustration (one that was repeated once more to much less fanfare a short time later).  But the boys in Chi-Lien Yu’s Invincible Space Streaker (aka Fei Tian Dun Di Jin Gang Ren) love to skinny-dip.  In fact, I could imagine these kids being perfectly at home in a Turkish bath house.  You could notch it up to simply being a cultural difference, but seeing a bunch of naked boys on film is a bit jarring to me and more than a little creepy, considering this film’s plot and despite its innocent attitude.

Dr. Mou appears from a frothing lake in his golden-helmeted, supervillain persona and quickly transforms into his human form, which comes with a snazzy black dressing gown.  He conjures up two red-shirted henchmen, one of whom I believe was supposed to be Scottish.  Why?  Why not?  Meanwhile, pre-teen Hsiao Po is almost singlehandedly losing his team’s soccer match by being the world’s worst, most distractible goalie (primarily centered on reining in his brother/cousin/something-or-other Hsiao Wen who has a penchant for pissing in public [seriously, this kid has one of the weakest and/or smallest bladders in the world]).  Post-game, the boys frolic in the aforementioned skinny-dipping hole, where Dr. Mou finds them and lures them to his secret lair with the promise of turning them into superheroes (but actually just turns them into monkeys, pigs, and more henchmen).  Nevertheless, the joke’s on Mou, because he does actually manage to change Po into his nemesis, the titular Streaker.  Fights and things ensue.

In the grand tradition of the Japanese Tokusatsu genre and the insanity of films like The Super Inframan, Invincible Space Streaker is aimed squarely at children and their desire to see shit blow up and monsters fight each other (who doesn’t?).  This, then, is why the film focuses so strongly on a threat from a child predator.  Dr. Mou is absolutely shudder-inducing in the way he entices these kids.  He’s the Pied Piper, but instead of a flute, he uses a poster of a superhero to lead the kids into danger.  Of course, there’s no actual sexual molestation involved (but, man, is it heavily suggested as a strong possibility), and I do believe that the filmmakers approached the story earnestly (plus, I’m sure there are culture gaps shading my impressions).  Instead, the children are tortured and transformed into animals.  The children all get along with each other, more or less.  It’s adults who are threats and/or just incompetent (including, but not limited to, Mrs. Lin, the school teacher who barely keeps track of her wards and gets a slingshot to the ass for her trouble [don’t worry, she returns the favor]).  In films like this, children are front and center, and what’s more worrisome to children than adults who intend them harm or can’t properly protect them?  

Naturally, since the kids are the focal point of the story, they are the ones who are empowered in this world.  Even while in the clutches of Dr. Mou, the children do just about as they please.  Wen even gets to take a whiz over Mou’s shoulder due to a breakdown in communication (a classic metaphor for the disparity between the ways adults and children view the world as well as another excuse to have a kid flash his bird at the camera).  The Space Streaker (I don’t recall if they ever call him anything other than “superman” in the film, and he never makes it into space, anyway) is the ultimate encapsulation of child empowerment.  That the superhero in this movie is actually a child is interesting, unlike in other shows and films of this ilk where they’re teens or young adults.  In costume, the Streaker is actually the height of a young boy (though for the more dangerous/experience-required stunts, he’s played quite obviously by an adult).  His costume most resembles one of the famous Kamen Rider characters from Japan, just much, much cheaper and less colorful.  Many a young boy dreams of being a superhero, and in this film, Po gets his wish without being matured into adulthood.  In this way, it’s somehow more satisfying from the perspective of youth, because the superhero is still a kid.  In other words, you don’t have to be a grownup to be powerful.

Why, then, is this film so incredibly dull?  Well, several reasons.  First and foremost is the fact that, even for all of the lunacy packed into this thing, it’s still extraordinarily incoherent.  Even if you view the film as a childhood fantasy/nightmare, it just makes no sense.  None of this is assisted in any way by the camerawork and editing.  The shots are always uncomfortably close to characters, jittery, and cut together like they were just thrown into a blender.  It’s what was once dubbed “MTV style” before MTV.  I’m a fan of camera zooms, something for which Asian cinema is known (and sometimes ridiculed). Nevertheless, not only are there simply way too many of them in Invincible Space Streaker (if you made a drinking game out of their frequency, you would be obliterated within five minutes), but they’re also almost completely unmotivated.  They’re zooms for the sake of zooms, and they make an already bizarre film into a muddled one.  Most egregious of all, the action scenes, the one thing we hope will actually gratify in a film like this, are boring.  They are one note repeated constantly, and like everything else in the movie, they leave the viewer scratching his head rather than grinning.  All things considered, I suppose that the final (recycled) shot of the boys skinny-dipping with the title “Thank you for coming” rather than “The End” just about says it all.

MVT:  The costumes are fun in a goofy, threadbare way (including a wolfman who looks like an escapee from a grade school production of Little Red Riding Hood), but they’re underutilized to the point of frustration.

Make or Break:  The opening soccer game outlines the tenor of the film, for better or worse.  Mostly worse.

Score:  4/10         

Black Scorpion II: Aftershock (1997)

Directed by: Jonathan Winfrey
Runtime: 86 minutes

This is the last of the Black Scorpion movies. It is cheesy, the hero has a tendency to kill villains, has nudity to encourage rental sales, and it is low budget. Despite this it is fun, feels like a comic book hero movie, and does not require antidepressants after viewing.

The opening title sequence also doubles as a montage to show what happened in the last film. Which leads into the movie proper with villains dressed as newly weds in a car chase with police. So of course the Black Scorpion shows up right after the only marked police car crashes and she goes after the newly wed bandits. Once she catches up to the bandits she promptly blows up the car because the villains just ran out of plot immunity.

This movie has three plots running at the same time. Plot A involves the Gangster Prankster. A low budget version of the Joker that has half of his face damaged and uses clown makeup to cover the scaring. He and his gang are out to cause as much mayhem as possible and destroy the Black Scorpion. Plot B involves Darcy and her relationship with her alter ego the Black Scorpion. Darcy is wanting to be cop less and being the Black Scorpion more. This is leads to all kinds of problems at work and in her personal life. At work her partner is not sure if he can trust her as she seems to be unwilling to go into dangerous situations. Her personal life is just as complicated as she wants her partner in bed without the aid of a costume and a taser. Finally Plot C deals with the fact that Angel City is broke due to the mayor stealing money from city and is hoping for earthquakes and federal disaster funds will help hide his crimes. However a scientist has found a way to stop earthquakes and the mayor can't have that. So he send some yes men to destroy the scientist machine and end up turn the scientist in the villain Aftershock.

In short that is the whole movie. There is not much else to talk about plot wise. A few scenes of female nudity at the beginning to sucker anyone who rented back when movie rental was a thing. There is no rape in this movie unlike the first movie. Also the villains suck in this movie the Gangster Prankster is an insufferable tool that is annoying in every scene he is in. Aftershock is just boring, she was created by a lab accident and mcguffin radiation and doesn't do much other than to advance Plot A.

Unless you are a hardcore Black Scorpion fan or suffer from clinical completion syndrome I can't really recommend owning this movie. This is a great movie if it happens to show up on one of the movie streaming sites or randomly on cable. Also if you are trapped inside due to heavy rain, snow, or a media circus has  taken up camp on your front lawn.

MVT: They use the 67 Stingray in this movie as well.

Make or Break: Every scene that has the Gangster Prankster is annoying and painful. Best way to put how annoying he is into words, a twelve year old high on sugar and adderall screaming fifty year old jokes and hitting you about the head with the book he got them from. 

Score: 4.3 out of 10

Batwoman (1967)

It’s been said, often and (I believe) correctly, that an Action film’s most important feature is its villain’s plot.  Belloq and the Nazis in Raiders of the Lost Ark want to use the titular artifact to defeat the Allies (and by extension, rule the world).  Megalon and Gigan want to conquer the world in the name of Seatopia in Godzilla Versus Megalon.  The Duke of New York wants to use the President of the United States in order to break himself and his followers out of Manhattan in Escape from New York (whether he wants to rule the world of not is debatable).   The more devious, intricate, and large-scale the scheme, the more heightened the stakes and the more defined the conflict between protagonist and antagonist.  Just look at almost any of the James Bond films for further evidence.  This is one reason why I enjoyed the recent Avengers: Age of Ultron, though the film has problems aplenty.  James Spader’s portrayal of the robot is spot on, menacing enough for a superhero film with enough of the actor’s affectations to make this viewer crave more screen time with his cinematic avatar, and his plan is something straight out of a comic book.  

Whether or not a villain is colorful or believes that what he/she is doing is right, how they go about doing it is a bit more important, in my opinion.  This is part of the reason why the Batman television series, which aired from 1966 to 1968, is so beloved.  It was completely removed from reality, focusing on and augmenting the camp aspects of its comic book origins (themselves at an apex of nuttiness at that time; witness the frequency of primate-centric stories at DC Comics, if you doubt me).  Further, the plots were usually just batshit (pun intended) insane.  Where else could you see a giant clam trying to eat a couple of guys in tight, brightly colored spandex (nothing Freudian there, I’m sure)?  And the histrionics of the villains were on a level of theatricality and farce so high, its nosebleeds got nosebleeds (especially as contrasted against the controlled, über-stoicism of the Dynamic Duo).  But people remember and love it to this day.  Naturally, then, imitators sprang out of the woodwork to cash in on this popularity, and Rene Cardona’s Batwoman (aka La Mujer Murcielago) is a prime example of a film’s reach exceeding its grasp in this regard.

The authorities are stymied by a string of murders worldwide, the most recent of which is wrestler El Rayo whose body is dragged out of the sea in Acapulco.  At the behest of Captain Mario Robles (Hector Godoy), the Batwoman (Maura Monti) is called in to assist by going undercover (but still in costume) at a local gym where many wrestlers train.  It’s soon discovered that the flagitious Dr. Eric Williams (Roberto Cañedo) is killing these men and extracting their pineal glands in order to create an army of Fish-Men!  Our intrepid heroes set about to foil Williams’ diabolical plan.  But first, some cocktails at the outdoor lounge.

One of the things this film does is illustrates the specific differences between movies produced in Hollywood and movies produced in other countries to cash in on them.  In Hollywood, this type of film is driven by its narrative, with each scene typically building on each previous scene until it reaches its climax.  In Batwoman, each scene is almost self-contained, and whether or not they actually relate to the film’s plot is almost an afterthought.  Thus, any scenes featuring interaction between the protagonists and the antagonists is as equally weighted as any other scene, importance notwithstanding.  This narrative isn’t built on escalating action but rather a constant, set level of involvement.  There is also a casual aspect to the scenes between action scenes, evidenced by the amount of time the main characters are shown nonchalantly discussing how fruitless their investigation is while slurping down drinks at a bar, or in some character’s den, or at a beach party where you almost think you can spot Eric Von Zipper in the background.  Some would call this lazy writing, and they would be right.  However, this easygoing attitude is part of the movie’s charm.  The travelogue-esque footage, the non-propulsive approach to the story, the informal exposition/happy hour scenes, the insertion of some luchadora wrestling, it all adds up to a relaxed perspective on itself, a flurry of fantasies for the viewer to behold, though they know they will likely never partake (sort of like the “White Telephone” films of the 1930s [white telephones being something most poor people could nary afford at the time], which were depictions of idealized societies and wish fulfillment for the lower classes).           

In the same way of the television phenomenon on which this film is patterned, there is a meta/self-reflexive edge to the filmmaking in Batwoman.  Many transitions are done via whip pan, a cheaper version of the swirling blur underneath the Bat symbol’s approach and retreat from the American Batman series.  Williams’ assistant (Jorge Mandragón), named Igor of course, places a gas mask over the camera lens, even though the person he is actually anesthetizing is about a foot and a half to his right.  Divers swim directly at the camera, menacing our heroine.  POV shots from Batwoman’s perspective show her swimming toward Williams’ boat (The Reptilicus, in case you were wondering).  When Batwoman peeks through a keyhole, we’re shown what she sees through a keyhole-shaped matte (an effect reportedly going all the way back to 1902’s What Happened to the Inquisitive Janitor).  This self-awareness of itself and of its production highlights an emphasis on performance in the film and particularly how its female heroine sees and is seen.  We’re meant to be in on it with the filmmakers, erasing any inclination we may have to treat the goings on seriously (difficult enough to do with a film titled Batwoman).  All of this is set to the hep, lounge stylings of Leo Acosta and his jazz combo, a surefire way to cement a film’s nonchalant coolness.  Like the Luchador movies featuring personalities like El Santo and Demonio Azul, it must be taken for granted that this is simply the world inhabited by these characters, and it is a world that disregards the whole for its parts.  After all, if you can’t put off the end of the world for a little rum and coke action every now and then, what’s the point?

MVT:  I’m just going to embrace my inner pig and give it to Maura Monti and her Batwoman character (maybe more her costumes, since her character is wafer thin).  She draws the eye to her no matter what she’s wearing (including some rather unflattering sweats and some very flattering swimwear), and the filmmakers knew enough to allow the camera to leer at her body at every available opportunity.  Which is a lot.

Make or Break:  The introduction to Batwoman is the Make.  It’s a nice, little montage showing off Monti being glamorous (and in direct address to the camera at some points), practicing her shooting skills (even though this never comes up again in the film, although it does give us Monti togged out like a cowgirl in a black leather vest), and even showing off her wrestling chops (I’m fairly confident that was a stunt double).  It’s pretty much everything you can expect from this movie in about a minute.

Score:  6.5/10