Sci-Fried Theater: JOHN DIES AT THE END (2012)

I realize that this is probably not what you are going to want to hear. You want me to squeal with delight and shout "duuuuuuude! this movie is fucking siiiiick duuuuuuuude fuuuuuuuuck duuuuuude fuuuuuuuuck!" If that is what you want you want to hear, just so you know... I'm sorry for everything that's about to happen.

Actually, I liked the movie. Didn't love it, but I enjoyed it well enough. I really, really wanted to love it, if that counts for anything.

A couple of too-cool-for-school college drop-outs (from what I understand), Dave (Chase Williamson) and John (Rob Mayes), sort of run some kind of paranormal investigation service that we are told pretty much nothing about, but consists of them cracking one-liners at apparitions that they are blithely unimpressed by. One night, at a party (at which John's neo-punk band play a song called "Cannibal Holocaust"), a Jamaican guy named Robert Marley (Tai Bennett), hooks up John with some potent shit called "soy sauce" that allows the user heightened perception. Heightened to the point where you can see events happening through time and space, parallel universes and even other people's dreams... and it's not from around here. "I'll try to explain this without cursing," says Dave. "but the black shit from Planet X that came out from that motherfucker looked like it had grown hair. Did I mention that the stuff was moving? Twitching?"

Told in flashback by Dave at a Chinese restaurant to a reporter (Paul Giamatti desperately trying to steal scenes from Williamson), the film is a series of vignettes through various points in time over the span of what seems to be a couple of days. Starting with a phone call from John who has apparently lost his shit completely, trashed his apartment and is running around in his boxers, Dave finds himself in a police station being interrogated over the deaths of several of the party-goers from the previous night including Marley, who is found disemboweled with all of his flesh torn off. After John is pronounced dead at the station (yes, the title lies), John calls Dave up on his cell phone to help him escape the police station so that he can grab more sauce from the crime scene, so that they can continue to communicate and together (sort of) find out what happened. Of course there is a larger conspiracy at work here and I don't think it's much of a spoiler to say that the sauce is a self-aware tool to repel an alien invasion from another parallel dimension. Eh... sort of.

I'm pretty sure this movie is one of those sort of films that is really only made for people who have already read the book, basically hitting the highlights without going through the rigors of actually having to set up characters and plot or really tell much of a story. I felt like I was watching a four hour epic that some suit in a studio office cut down to 90 minutes after having a fight with the director about theater bookings and how many a 240 minute movie screenings could be had on opening weekend. To say that it's episodic and thinly plotted is putting it mildly. Even Tony Jaa can feel like friggin' Tolstoy after watching this. That is not to say that it isn't well written at all. There is a lot of word-play going on, occasionally feeling a bit like someone read Douglas Adams and Kurt Vonnegut and wanted to do something younger and hipper that would get people, who wouldn't normally be bothered, to pick up and read while waiting for their cell phone to be delivered after accidentally dropping the old one in the toilet. Often it's very clever, but sometimes it feels a bit forced, such as when John (via broken cell phone) instructs Dave to buy a bratwurst from a street vendor. He does and it's a fat, red sausage on a hot dog bun with a piece of lettuce on it. First off, that's not a brat, second who serves a brat with a piece of lettuce (in Illinois no less!)? The answer to that is a punchline; John tells Dave to look inside the bun and he will find a $100 bill. Dave looks and says it's only a piece of lettuce. That's the joke (a swerve on an old time-travel cliche), but it is really straining to get to that punchline and when you get there, it's a lot of effort for little reward.

Coscarelli's movie feels like a group of English majors had a spitballing session fueled by jello-shot sidecars laced with drops of untested lysergic acid diethylamide, watched NAKED LUNCH, GHOSTBUSTERS, SLAUGHTERHOUSE FIVE and BILL AND TED'S BOGUS JOURNEY, and then decided to wrap all four in a crispy won-ton wrapper with plenty of cell phones and penis gags for dipping. Yes, my friends, if you are a fan of phallus based humor, this is your movie. Just like THE NUTTY PROFESSOR (1996) was a gift of flatulent love to fans of the mighty fart joke, JOHN DIES AT THE END will be loved by penis punsters everywhere. This means that fans of the book can rest assured that the penis door handle has not been, uuhhh... manipulated, in any way. Watching JOHN DIES made me feel the exact same way as I did when I was 20 and decided to read a Goosebumps book to see what people were ranting about back in the day. This movie is aimed at a demographic that I am no longer part of. I don't have a bong on my coffee table, which is what I think this movie would be best viewed over in the wee hours of the morning. Mainly, though, the relentless smirking and mugging from the leads wears really thin, really fast. After all, that should be the audience's job.

While the leads are disappointing, Giamatti ferociously chews the scenery in his typically over-the-top fashion, which actually works well at the end when you find out what fate has in store for his character. Clancy Brown's underdeveloped televangelist-style paranormal TV personality Marconi truly does steal every scene he's in (which is sadly very few), and Angus Scrimm makes a meal of the appetizer plate he is given as a priest who gives some unexpected advice over the phone, with some great dialogue contemplating the nature of insanity and the inability to self-diagnose. These latter two, and maybe Giamatti if I'm feeling generous, boldly underscore the weakness of the rest of the cast. That said, Glynn Turman who has made a career out of playing cops, doctors, lawyers and elected officials does a really fine job playing a police detective that doesn't know what the fuck is going on, but will damn sure make it stop, even if it means shooting innocent people and setting mobile homes on fire.

Where the film falters in plot and construction, it definitely makes up for in visuals. David Wong's book (which I haven't read), clearly is interested in throwing as much wacky imagery at the reader as possible (always in a comic book way) and Don Coscarelli is more than up to the task. Better still, he uses a deft hand to inject his own signature visuals without reducing the film to tiresome overkill. His use of lighting, color saturation, lens distortions, color temperature and the like are all carefully handled, painting the screen with atmosphere, and setting an interesting tone for the scenes. There are several scenes that very subtly create the queasy sensation of things being... not quite right, which could have been handled in a flat, ineffective way in other hands. Also effective are both the practical and CGI effects, the former used liberally and the latter sparingly, which is exactly what we like to see. From toothy alien slugs and torn-up corpses, to exploding heads and flying mustaches, there is nothing really to nitpick here. Well, except for the climactic scene at the end with the dog and the bomb. What the hell happened there? Did the production run out of money all of a sudden?

Smirky teens and tweens will love love the bits of the film they see between text messages, and will no doubt bond with our bed-head buddies. Others may feel a bit like they've ridden an E-ticket ride that is a lot of fun, but is quickly forgotten. Your mileage may vary.

(no bloggers where harmed in the writing of this review)

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Obscure Oddities: THE GRUESOME DEATH OF TOMMY PISTOL (2010)

The world is filled with dangerous jobs – firefighter, oil rig worker, coal miner, bomb disposal officer.  But perhaps the world’s most treacherous job is independent film watcher. I’m not talking “independent” cinema like a Miramax flick where they proudly pat themselves on the back for somehow managing to make their film with “only” $5 million dollars.  I’m talking about watching films that were made for less than the cost of a Buick where the filmmakers had to beg, borrow and steal in order to get their film done.  9 times out of 10 you are going to suffer through some poor aping of a superior source (see Tom’s hazard duty with the makers of THANKSKILLING 3 trying to do their best South Park impersonation). Most times you will end up depressed as hell, wondering just what you are doing with your life.

However, there are those rare times you see something that is truly bizarre and original that it reinvigorates your desire for “outsider” cinema.  THE GRUESOME DEATH OF TOMMY PISTOL is one of those films.  Essentially a splatter-comedy anthology, this film is actually a surprising take on the struggles of one trying to stay afloat in even the lowest part of Hollywood’s underbelly.  Even more surprising, it is a sharp commentary on the desire for fame and the absurd lengths one will go to achieve it. And, in the biggest shocker, it is a film that actually has heart.  Oh, and blood, lots of blood to match that heart on display.

As Forrest Gump always said, "Life is like a 7-11 hotdog..."

The film opens with Tommy Pistol (writer-director Aramis Sartorio) running late for an audition.  When he arrives and pleads for a chance, the producer (Mia Tyler) bitches him out. To add insult to injury, the next scene has Tommy fired from his job at a bookstore after he insults the owner’s mom.  Arriving home with the bad news, Tommy is given a lecture from his wife (Karen Sartorio).  She laughs about his “dreams of being an actor” and splits with their son.  12 months later Tommy is still in a depressed funk and decides to quell his misery – as we all do – by microwaving a hotdog and masturbating with a penis pump.  With perhaps too much blood going to the wrong head, Tommy slips into a hallucinatory dream state and the audience goes right along with him.

The first segment shows a wide-eyed Tommy arriving in Los Angeles via train to live his dream of becoming an actor.  He tells the train conductor his plans and – in a fitting metaphor for the city – the guy spits on him.  Tommy checks into a fleapit motel with a horny Arab owner and jumps onto the bed, only to get up with a dozen syringes sticking out of his back. Coming off the unwanted high, Tommy gets a call to be on set that day.  He arrives at a warehouse and meets the Snuff Boss (Caleb Emerson, last seen harassing people on a bus in Damon Packard’s FOXFUR).  Yup, naïve ol’ Tommy’s first gig is to be in a snuff film.  Luckily, he is not “the star” but only the executioner.  Wide-eyed Tommy couldn’t tell the difference though as he marvels at the “set” and “props” for this lavish production.  He dives into his role with vigor as he kills his first victim (Mia Tyler again) with a cheese grater. This kid is a natural and the crew is all impressed (“Tommy, you’re a fucking artist,” screams the boss).  However, things get messy when one of the captive girls (Kimberly Kane) escapes and starts offing her captors.  Star-struck Tommy won’t have someone cutting in on his action, so he straps her down and uses her bloodstream to make a bloody Slip ‘n Slide.

She's having Gov. Schwarzenegger flashbacks

After a brief sojourn back to sleeping Tommy, we dive right into the second segment as Tommy moves up the Hollywood ranks as he sneaks onto the set of a big budget Arnold Schwarzenegger movie.  He poses as a Production Assistant for Ahhh-nold so that he can deliver the man his one-of-a-kind protein pies.  Tommy has ulterior motives though as he has drugged the pie.  Why?  Because he wants to skin him alive and wear his flesh.  “I just want to be you,” he says.  Think about that for a second.  That is some pretty damn awesome symbolism.  His plans, however, immediately go astray when he emerges from Arnold’s tent in his new flesh-suit and a P.A. yells, “Hey, that guy killed Arnold Schwarzenegger and he’s wearing his skin!”  Tommy then finds himself in a fight for his life as he must battle an army of rampaging P.A.s in typical Schwarzenegger film fashion and confronts an Asian girl P.A. who suddenly realizes she has amazing martial arts prowess after talking with her spiritual animal (a talking dog).  Seriously!

The third and final segment has a fat Tommy living at the top of his game as he is directing a bottom-of-the-barrel porno flick.  The greasy-haired helmer has to deal with his leading lady Daisy (Daisy Sparks) getting bitten on the ass by some spider and having a staph infection.  As the day wears on, she gets sicker and sicker after bursting the boil on her ass cheek.  As if directing a porno wasn’t hard enough, Tommy finds his leading lady missing so he conscripts a chubby P.A. (John Karyus, also last seen harassing people on a bus in Damon Packard’s FOXFUR) for the sex scene.  This doesn’t seem to bother male talent Grungy (“Anything with a pulse!” he exclaims).  But soon everyone on the set outside of Tommy becomes walking pus zombies and they squirt their sores all over the director.  Back in the real world, Tommy’s hot dog in the microwave explodes at the same time as his penis. This is bad news as he stumbles out of his house and tries to drive to the hospital, but doesn’t appear to make it.

The more you know about director Aramis Sartorio, the more THE GRUESOME DEATH OF TOMMY PISTOL makes sense.  The name Tommy Pistol is his porn pseudonym (nom de penis?) in real life, so it is fair to say he’s been exposed to some sleazy characters in his life. The film originally started out as the short called “Attack of the Staph Spider” (the final segment) and he was encouraged by friends to expand it into a feature length film.  As he started writing the screenplay, Sartorio conceived a story that follows his character from innocent dreamer to jaded cynic.  The old adage is “write what you know” and Sartorio seems to have taken the bitter disappointment of Hollywood familiar to so many folks and turned it into an absurd parody of climbing the Hollywood ladder.  I mean, you have a guy who literally will kill to be famous; who will wear someone’s skin in order to be famous.  It is actually serious stuff amidst the puke and pratfalls.

Despite being filled with gore and guffaws, the film works best in the quieter moments. The opening confrontation with his wife definitely hits home.  However, there is one scene in this that absolutely knocked me on my ass.  In the moments before his first kill in the opening segment, Tommy climbs a ladder and directly addresses the audience.  This Brechtian breaking of the fourth wall is a stunner and is legitimately one of the most heartfelt monologues I’ve seen in the past year.  It instantly reminded me of the bit Van Damme did in JCVD (2008) where he talks about the ups and downs of his career (much to my surprise, Sartorio mentions this bit specifically on the audio commentary as his inspiration).  When you go into a film with a poster featuring a guy holding a bloody cheese grater, you usually know what you are going to get.  I was not expecting a commentary on the struggles of trying to make it in Hollywood, let alone a scene that almost brought me to tears.  Maybe I was just really drunk?  Oh, damn, I don’t drink.

My only complaint with GRUESOME DEATH is one I can’t really hold against the filmmakers since they were working on such a small budget.  It is shot on video and that aesthetic really betrays the film sometimes. I completely understand why it was done that way, but had this been shot on film, it would have really opened up the film to bigger audiences. Also, the ick factor is so off the charts that it limits its exposure.  It would make Roger Ebert wish he had his jaw back so he could puke.  Not that he’d ever watch anything like this.  I say that because the film really does have a message to it and it deserves to be heard. Thankfully, I’m one of those hazardous duty types and don’t have an aversion to movies that let the emotions flow as freely as the bodily fluids.  THE GRUESOME DEATH OF TOMMY PISTOL is one of those rewards for years of having bombs blow up in my face – a film that stands on its own and is unlike anything you’ve ever seen before.

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Gotterdammerung Epics: THE RING OF THE NIBELUNG (2004)

Chances are, when you think of the word "opera" a portly woman in a ridiculous quasi-Viking armor making glasses shatter while belting out something tragic about love. Everybody knows the image, taken from early productions of one specific opera, "Der Ring des Nibelungen."

Written over the span of 26 years (twenty six!) in the mid-1800s, German composer Richard Wagner used the epic 13th century poem "Nibelungenlied" as well as some Scandinavian and Greek mythology as a springboard to create an, at that time, unparalleled entertainment spectacle that originally ran for 15 hours over one night and three days. It has been performed lavish and impoverished, and like the myths that it's based on, it inspired a wealth of modern material from modern authors such as Robert E. Howard, George R. Martin, and even Gary Gygax. Oh, and of course, J.R.R. Tolkien, who famously wrote that his epic, four-part trilogy "The Lord of the Rings," centering around the concept that death and misery are the only things that come out of greed, had absolutely no basis in Wagner's epic quadrilogy. "Both rings are round, and there the resemblance ceases," said Tolkien, and since Wagner was busy decomposing at the time, he really couldn't argue the point. This is a shame because I feel opera has a lot to offer, if you can get past all of the singing.

Appreciated by such luminaries as Chuck Jones and Adolf Hitler, Wagner's magnum opus is so firmly embedded in global pop culture that even King Arthur wouldn't be able to separate the two. Interestingly, it (or its source) appears to have only been made into cinematic form only twice before. The celebrated Fritz Lang filmed a massive, lavish two-part, five-hour version in 1924, titled DIE NIBELUNGEN, that altered some of the themes and concepts to fall in line with Lang's own philosophies about fate and destiny. It is this version of the story, that has permeated all subsequent adaptations. The infamous Harald Reinl directed a  remake in 1966 clocking in at over three hours, with an export title of WHOM THE GODS WISH TO KILL. It played around the world, but it is his follow up to the success of this huge-scale epic THE TORTURE CHAMBER OF DR. SADISM (1976) that seems better remembered. There are also couple of send-ups. One of which, Dave Friedman's soft-core THE LONG SWIFT SWORD OF SIEGFRIED (1971), might be the only exposure to the story that most Americans have ever had, unless you count the Bugs Bunny cartoon "What's Opera, Doc?" The other is a 2005 German spoof, SIEGFRIED,  seemingly in the Farrelly / Wayans brothers style in which, among other things, Siegfried learns how to kiss via a flatulent swine. Seriously, only the Germans would make a low-brow comedy out of a 6th century legend.

A six year-old Siegfried wanders the castle ramparts, watching with calm wonder as an invading hoard floods into the castle, claiming the lives of his parents. Having been set adrift on the river, Siegfried ends up in the care of a humble blacksmith Eyvind (Max Von Sydow), who works for King Gunther (Samuel West) of Bergund (basically where Austria and Southern Germany are now). Now, apparently the oldest 18 year-old in cinematic history, Siegfried (32 year-old Benno Fürmann in a wig that would make Ator jealous) witnesses a meteor falling from the sky. Upon investigation he discovers that it's a strange metal of the likes of which he has never seen. Also falling into the category of things Siggy has never seen, he fights off a bandit who turns out to be the queen of Iceland, Brunnhild (Kristanna Løken, fresh off of TERMINATOR 3 and preparing to descend into the Boll's of hell for BLOODRAYNE). Because the runes had foretold Brunnhild's affair with the one man who could best her in combat, she and Siegfried hit it off under the stars, right next to the crater. Say, where did those blankets come from? She tells him that she will wait for him in Iceland to rule by her side. Seems simple enough. What could go wrong?

Meanwhile the dwarf Albrecht (Sean Higgs), gives the King's adviser Hagen (Julian Sands) the idea of raiding the dragon's lair for the vast treasure of the Nibelung. As soon as Siegfried picks up the meteor the next morning, the dragon awakens and sets about trashing villages as dragons are want to do. After the king is wounded and his best men killed while raiding the dragon's lair, Siegfried decides to use the metal from the meteor to fashion a sword with which he will slay the dragon and avenge the king's disgrace. After a fierce battle with the dragon, Siegfried discovers that in addition to an awesome peyote trip, the dragon's blood makes him invulnerable to weapons. The only hitch is that when he bathed in the blood of the dragon, there was a spot where a leaf had fallen from a tree onto his shoulder.

After slaying the dragon, Siegfried finds the fabled Treasure of the Nibelung; a vast hoard of gold that can only be owned by the one who possesses the Ring of the Nibelung. Just as Siegfried is about to hit the "loot" button, ghosts appear before him and they regret to inform him that he cannot have the treasure because it isn't his and it's cursed. If he would like to see what the curse does, he should look no further than Albrecht, who was banished from the ranks of the Nibelung and cursed to shrivel and turn ugly. Of course Siegfried ain't afraid of no ghosts and quickly grabs the preciou - err, the ring and cheerfully skips out of the cave. After being attacked by Albrecht, Siegfried agrees to spare his life in exchange for the Tarn Helm, a mask that will make him, not turn invisible as in the other adaptations, but change shape in order to look like someone else.

Siegfried, now considered a hero of the kingdom, is given a magic potion that will make him fall in love with the king's sister Kriemhild (Alicia Witt, looking much like Jennifer Jason Leigh in FLESH + BLOOD). In addition to that, King Gunther talks Siegfried into using the mask to best Brunnhild (remember her?) in combat since he is a complete wuss and she will only marry someone who can wrestle her to the ground. I imagine it gets very cold in Iceland and they have to come up with some way to keep warm. Of course all of these lies and treachery lead to a more and more tangled web of deceit that can't help but fall into a death spiral.

German TV director Uli Edel, who previously gave us the Shakespeare reworking, THE KING OF TEXAS (2002) with Patrick Stewart, does a serviceable job remaking Lang's seminal silent film. Clocking in at just over three hours long, this sucker moves like a downhill freight train, frantically trying to stuff ten pounds of epic into a five pound bag of holding. This is with the script only adapting what is essentially only one part of Wagner's opera, "Gotterdammerung". Edel directs the film with a solemnity that almost makes it feel like a '60 period epic in its earnestness. This is a double edged sword because on the one hand, the production believes in its telling of a great, centuries old masterpiece, unlike say CLASH OF THE TITANS (2010), in which it felt like those involved with the production just wanted to get it over with so they could go home. On the other hand, that sort of intentness of purpose is undermined by egregious miscasting of Benno Fürmann, who, to be fair, does have a sign of life, unfortunately that sign reads "out to lunch". Not only does he look a little creepy, but his reading of certain scenes are bordering on juvenile. Perhaps it's due to the fact that he is supposed to be playing a part that is half his age, but it comes off like he is a mentally disabled side of beefcake and it's hard to see why these beautiful women are throwing themselves at him. Actually, come to think of it, that is pretty much true to life.

The three credited screenwriters Diane Duane, Peter Morwood and Uli Edel, seem to want to say a lot of things about some heady subjects such as the conflict between the still relatively new-ish Catholicism and the pagan gods, who are here identified strangely by their Greek names. After a voice-over narrator tells us of this clash is continuing in the last place on earth where Christianity hasn't dominated, there really isn't much made of it after that. At one point Siegfried's adopted father Eyvind off-handedly remarks "the Christians... they're a strange lot." In another scene, during the celebration of the dragon's killing, Eyvind puts the moves on a Christian woman, who likes the way he swings his hammer and tells him that she will be a pagan that night. Forget the whole "my Maserati is parked out back" routine, the "Thor is my god" line works like a charm! Other than that, the profound statements seem to have gone missing somewhere along the line. The other thing that seems to have been lost along the way is Siegfried's complicity in his own downfall. Here Siegfried is a pretty nice guy who may let things go to his head a bit, but when it comes to all the dirty work, Siegfried is persuaded by others instead of coming up with the ideas himself. It heightens the tragic aspect, I guess, but it also hobbles the morality play. It's also interesting that the details are fudged a little bit to make it more like LORD OF THE RINGS. The golden circle is complete.

Released in a variety of markets under other interesting titles such as CURSE OF THE RING and SWORD OF XANTEN, surprisingly, the film did get a Stateside DVD release via Sony Pictures under the most interesting title of all, DARK KINGDOM: THE DRAGON KING (huh?). Not surprisingly this version is cut by over fifty minutes of footage. Yes, that is almost one third of the movie that hit the cutting room floor. I actually considered watching this version so that I could discuss what was cut out here, but considering my synopsis above really covers only the first half of the movie, I think it's pretty obvious that the cut version would be an incomprehensible mess and I'll leave it at that.

The first Brünnhilde and the latest.

The cast, Fürmann not withstanding, is actually reasonably solid. Julian Sands (in what appears to be a modified '50s era wig) actually underplays a role that is normally fodder for extreme scenery chewing, leaving that to Higgs' Albrecht. I'm actually really surprised that Kristanna Løken hasn't been snatched up by HBO for GAME OF THRONES, as she shows some real talent whenever given anything remotely physical to do, whether it is hogtying the king on their wedding night or furiously battling Siegfried in the middle of a feast. Also, I guess it should be noted that Robert Pattinson has a supporting role as the Prince of Bergund, and in spite of what I thought the releases titled KINGDOM IN TWILIGHT are purely coincidental  The fight scenes are surprisingly well staged for a TV movie, even though it appears that many are staged in front of a rear-projection screen (damn, I thought those went out with button shoes) and while some of the CGI are a bit archaic, others, such as the dragon, are quite well done. In spite of its shortcomings and occasional cheeseballery (such as an aging Max Von Sydow dual-wielding broadswords to fend off two Saxon soldiers) I enjoyed this adaptation quite a bit and hope that it will help get another, bigger adaptation in front of the cameras in the future.

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Cine M.I.A. #6: Roberta Findlay's BANNED (1989)

Roberta Findlay has certainly had an interesting career.  Born and raised in New York, she started her film career in the 1960s helping her husband Michael Findlay direct/produce/write/film their debut, TAKE ME NAKED (1966).  They then produced the vaunted FLESH trilogy, where she again served as the producer, cinematographer and co-writer.  The 1970s proved no less exciting as the Findlays attached themselves to one of the most controversial films of the decade, SNUFF (1976).  The rest of the decade saw Roberta abandoning the world of softcore for the fertile fields of hardcore pornography, where she produced and directed over a twenty XXX films.  Sadly, the decade ended with the death of Michael (by then her ex-husband) during the infamous Pan Am helicopter accident in New York City.

Roberta continued kicking out adult films under various pseudonyms into the 1980s before journeying into the R-rated exploitation field with an action picture (TENEMENT [1985]) and several horror pictures (THE ORACLE [1985], BLOOD SISTERS [1987], LURKERS [1988], and PRIME EVIL [1989]). She had one final cinematic trick up her sleeve though as she ended her eccentric career with something she had never done before – a flat out comedy in BANNED.  And this may have been a bad thing as the film has still not been released.

BANNED opens with a “10 years ago” scene as the band Rotting Filth is recording their latest album.  Guitarist Teddy Homicide (Neville Wells) is frustrating the hell out of everyone as he can’t hit a lick.  When a pizza delivery guy accidentally interrupts the recording session, Homicide loses it.  He lives up to his name and whips out a machine gun and mows down the pizza guy, his band mates and the engineer.  Feeling somewhat remorseful, he then heads into the bathroom and commits suicide by sticking his head in the toilet and drowning himself.  Cut to the “present day” and we see the band Banned (haha, get it?) toiling away for change down in Times Square.  Barely making enough to cover their rental fees, the band – consisting of lead singer/guitarist Kent (Dan Erickson), keyboardist Chelsea (Brent Trish Whitney), gun nut bassist Willie (Roger Coleman) and sex hound drummer Serge (Fred Cabral) – opt to spend it wisely by drowning their own sorrows at the local dive bar.  It is here that Willie reveals his uncle Rod (Glenn Mitchell) has recently purchased the studio where the massacre occurred and they can record there cheap.  “Provided Impulse studios doesn’t turn out to be the recording studio from hell,” says Kent.  Gee, can you see where this is going?

Your reviewer at this point

We then get a bunch of stuff regarding Kent and his domestic life.  He visits his girlfriend Rachel (Amy Brentano) and they talk about her crazy brother who was a “plumber who wants to be a priest.”  Jeez, I feel like I have Google Maps in my head because I know exactly where that is heading.  They go to see a one-woman stage show by Chelsea where Rachel gets pissed at Kent for yelling “Show your tits!” She dumps a plate of nachos on him, which somehow causes him to tumble out the back door, down some stairs and into an alley where a bum eats the nachos off his head.  On the way home he apologizes profusely to Rachel but falls down an open manhole.  Then we get a scene of him being berated by his rich, alcoholic father (played for laughs as alcoholism is funny).  Man, will he get possessed by the ghost of Teddy Homicide or what?  C’mon, let’s get this show on the road, Roberta!

Back in the studio, the kids get ready to record some badass jazz rock (can jazz rock be badass?).  Sid Wiesenthal, the boss of their label Broken Records (haha), shows up to make sure things are okay.  In one of the film’s odder moments, Sid offers Rod what looks to be cocaine, but he explains it is finely ground beef adrenal tissue from Austria (do what?). Sid does a couple of lines and it turns him from an old Jewish guy into a hulking black guy.  Do whaaaaaaaaaaaaaat? Seriously! Anyway, the group gets into a fight regarding time changes in Kent’s song (“People be boppin’ around trying to get into the rhythm then we hit them with these triple breaks,” says jazz rock visionary Kent) and he heads into the bathroom to cool down.  While taking a piss he hears a voice coming from the toilet and leans closer to investigate, getting sprayed in the face with demon toilet water.  Now we’re looking at ALL OF ME (1984) minus the stuff like laughs.

Kent’s Teddy Homicide side doesn’t make his first appearance until that night’s gig.  Kent screams “Fuck you, you assholes” into the mic, rips off his shirt and smashes his guitar.  Hey, it worked for Sid Vicious.  Inexplicably, this drives da kidz wild and the band Banned becomes a smashing success.  Well, a lot of people crowd into their dressing room.  Of course, Teddy Homicide wants more than just fame as he starts putting the moves on Chelsea.  He takes her to an outdoor restaurant, but his rough courtship skills are interrupted by some Libyan terrorists who shoot the place up.  Yes, really. Kent/Teddy’s response is to give the terrorists tips and tell them to go rob Tavern on the Green. Ha?  Back on the home front, Kent/Teddy shows he is a wild man by jumping on the bed and knocking picture frames off shelves.  Such insane rock ‘n roller behavior would earn him a place in the band Sorcery!  He has a wild sex session with Rachel and then they hit a disco where he hits on all the women.  Heading home, Kent tries to apologize for his unwitting actions…but falls down an open manhole.  Okay, let’s wrap this up – Kent/Teddy continues his wild ways until Willie and Serge chase him across Central Park while firing machine guns and rocket launchers at him.  Meanwhile, Rachel has her plumber/priest brother Perciville exorcize the toilet and Teddy Homicide is sent down the toilet for good.  Got to be some symbolism regarding Findlay's career there.

"Ashes to ashes, flush to flush."

So BANNED is unreleased?  Ya don’t say!  I can’t ever imagine why.  Actually, I can because it is really bad.  It is a shame Findlay capped off her three decades long career with this as it is rough, rough stuff.  Now her films have featured comedy before (both intentional and unintentional), but she’s never gone full blown comedy and I can see why. Sadly, she seems to have all the comic timing of a broken clock with Dane Cook’s picture on it.  The film’s one major running gag is that the drummer Serge is always late because he is busy having sex with girls and he always throws his clock against the wall when he finds out he is late, resulting in a pile of broken clocks on his floor.  Another example is when Serge starts going into some born again rant and doesn’t snap out of it until someone holds a surge suppressor (haha, get it?) against his chest. *slaps forehead*  It is a shame as screenwriter Jim Cirile’s screenplay does have promise.  Who doesn’t want to see a body switch movie involving a rock musician and a Sid Vicious-wannabe?  That is actually ripe for funny scenarios (at least in the late 80s it was), but not in the hands of Findlay.

So does BANNED do anything right? Well, Roberta does fill it with some nudity to keep me awake.  Also, the cast is probably one of the better assembled by Findlay.  Lead Dan Erickson – who previously worked for Findlay on BLOOD SISTERS – has a William Ragsdale sort of appeal to him and he is actually funny in some bits when he switches back and forth between his two personalities.  His British accent is a bit over-the-top (homicide is pronounced “Home-eeee-side”), but the film only benefits from going in that direction.  The film is also rife with late 80s NYC locales (look quickly for a THEY LIVE poster plastered on a street wall) and it is captured in Findlay’s trademark style.  She also inexplicably stages one bit on the deck of the U.S.S. Intrepid.  I’m guessing someone got access for that and Findlay wasn’t going to give it up no matter what the project.  And, believe it or not, this film features the only blue screen work Findlay has ever done in her career (maybe that drove her to hang it up?).  The finale with folks running all over Central Park actually echoes back to the FLESH trilogy days too, so you kind of get see Roberta’s career come full circle.  It is too bad the rest of the film couldn’t match her earlier standards.

As of today, BANNED is still unavailable anywhere.  I can’t really say the world is missing too much.  Here is the film’s trailer, which is about as close as you can get (and would ever want to get) to the film.

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Gotterdammerung Epics: IMMORTALS (2011)

Do you like movies about gladiators? Actually, I don't. What I do like are crazy reworkings of the Greek legends into a testosterone-driven sword n' sorcery outings with plenty of myth-inspired monsters. Basically my ideal movie would be JASON AND THE ARGONAUTS (1963) with the production design of FLASH GORDON (1980) and the bloody action of CONAN THE BARBARIAN (1982), written and directed by John Milius. Oh, and 99% practical effects (I'm leaving that 1% in for stuff like erasing the cables that are hoisting up the massive kraken on Pinewood's 007 soundstage). This movie almost delivers that. Almost.

Essentially a rip-off / mash-up of CLASH OF THE TITANS (2010) and 300 (2006), director Tarsem Singh (who went on to direct MIRROR MIRROR in 2012), takes a rather routinely scripted, very loose retelling of the legends of Theseus, and turns it into a surprisingly operatic spectacle on what is clearly a limited budget. Well, if you can call $75 million a limited budget. In this movie Theseus (the vapid Henry Cavill) is a peasant who is being trained for greatness by Zeus, disguised as an old man (John Hurt). King Hyperion (Mickey Rourke) is royally pissed (sorry) about losing his wife and son to disease after he begged the gods for help. So as any loving husband and father would, he decides he's going to amass a giant army to crush the entirety of Greece, ensuring that every pregnant woman is put to death so that one way or another his legacy will live on. To aid Hyperion in this subtle plan, Hyperion hunts for the Epirus Bow, the one thing that can release the Titans from their cage in a volcano near the city of Helena and ensure his victory.

That's actually the nicer side of Hyperion whose idea of a passtime is putting people in a Brazen Bull and listening to their screams of torment... I guess if you want to be technical, the Brazen Bull hasn't been invented during the time period this is supposed to have taken place in, but whatever, a minor detail. Of course Theseus is determined to bring down Hyperion, not necessarily because Hyperion wants to destroy heaven and earth, but moreso because Hyperion personally slits Theseus' mother's throat right in front of him. So classic hero he is not. Aiding him in this adventure is the virgin oracle Phaedra (Freida Pinto), who decides at one point that orgasms beat out oracles any day and hops in bed with Theseus. Then there is Stavros the thief (Stephen Dorff), who attempts some pointless comic relief in a modern vernacular. Ummm... yeah. Fortunately he barely has any screen time and mostly just stands around with his shirt off.

The script runs pretty much like writers Charley and Vlas Parlapanides (now working on Shane Black's American remake of the Shusuke Kaneko's 2006 film DEATH NOTE) took a Cliff's Notes on Greek Legends and threw it in a blender and then poured it into a script, filling in parts that went missing out of their hip pocket. Wait, in Greek legend wasn't Hyperion a Titan? And weren't Titans a giant race that were the intellectual equals of the Olympians and - oh, never mind. Actually, I really don't have a beef with that except for the fact that they decided to leave out almost all of the monster/creature stuff from the legends, except for the battle with the Minotaur. This is even more annoying because Singh lets his production team run wild with concepts for costumes and sets (even if the sets are mostly digital) and the Minotaur is something that I thought was an interesting twist. A CG bullhead on some random dude would have not only been pretty lame, but out of character with Singh's creative streak. Here the Minotaur is a giant feral man with a bull-head helmet seemingly made out of barbed wire. It sounds a bit odd, but I thought it worked and would have liked to have seen more in that vein. Speaking of costumes, I realize some folks are pretty miffed at the fantasy take on ancient Greek armor, but who cares, it looks fantastic. Like they were lifted from some gaudy ultra-modern opera. Hyperion's forces look suitably evil in a variety of strange almost Italian post-apocalyptic masks and armor, and Hyperion's own bizarre armor actually reminds me of something from Japan... hmmm... what could that be?

Mickey Rourke is Baltan!

Mt. Olympus:
You don't have to be gay to work here, but it helps.

When I saw 300, I felt a bit like I had accidentally walked into the wrong bar and had to back out mumbling apologies. This is similar, but not quite as over-the-top. There is so much hairless, bare manflesh on display that it becomes absurdly hilarious. I mean, it's gotta be frickin' cold up in that mountain village right next to the ocean, Mediterranean climate or not! It would be nice if equal time were given to the ladies, but ancient Greece is a man's world baby... or rather, in this case, a hairless pretty boy's world. Even the Olympian's are all waifish twinks. What happened to Sir Lawrence Oliver as Zeus? Oh yeah, he was old. Can't have that. Here Zeus is played by Luke Evans, who instead of sporting the familiar bushy white beard, is going with the Scooby and Shaggy look.

Another contentious issue is the bloodletting. First off, don't believe all the crying on NetFlix where people of a fragile disposition are losing their minds decrying this film as a wall-to-wall orgy of torture and gore. Ok, so it ain't MARY POPPINS (1964), but it sure ain't HOSTEL (2005) either. Let's face it, ancient myths, legends, (*cough* bibles *cough*)... they are horrifically violent and gruesome, this doesn't even come close to the bloody atrocities of the original stories of old. Sure it is a pretty bloody affair, but the gore is mainly CG and let's be honest, most of it looks like a video game. During the climactic battle where the Gods fight the hyper-active zombie-creature Titans (don't ask, I don't know) it is so over-the-top that it's impossible to take seriously.

In the end we have a mixed bag that was almost great, but still enjoyable. Singh's visuals are, in my opinion, far superior to Zach Snyder's, and I enjoyed this substantially more than 300, which felt like a 20 minute tech demo padded to feature length. Mickey Rourke is flawlessly cast and completely owned the role of Hyperion taking it to levels that almost rival James Earl Jones in CONAN. Plus it is great having people like Stephen McHattie and John Hurt pop in for smaller parts. Granted it misses the longship several times over, but it still manages to be a good time if you are in an undemanding frame of mind. Sadly, this movie's quick demise to the bargain bin probably means it will not see a sequel. It's too bad; a trashy sequel is just what this flick needs: fewer pretensions and more monsters.

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