The District Attorney starts a war on the gambling rackets and arrests a small time casino owner.  He agrees to be a stool pigeon for the DA but is killed while talking on the telephone before he can spill the beans.  The DA’s reporter fiancé does some digging and learns that the murderer is sending soundwaves over telephone lines to bump off the people that stand in his way of controlling the gambling rackets.

This mundane murder mystery from “Poverty Row” studio PRC is derivative as Hell and boring as shit.  It’s also a bit of a cheat since the “Invisible Killer” is just deadly soundwaves; so don’t go into this thinking this is an Invisible Man movie or something.  On top of that, too much of the flick focuses on the annoying female reporter and her greasy detective fiancé.  Their idiotic banter will grate on your nerves PDQ.

Sam (The Terror of Tiny Town) Newfield films everything without a shred of style.  He does give us an OK car chase (for the time that is) but that’s about it.  I’ll cut him some slack because this is one of THIRTEEN movies he directed in 1939.  I guess when you churn out more than a movie a month; quality is probably the least of your concerns.

The dumb reporter chick gets the best line of the movie when she is nearly shot and quips, “That’s the first time I’ve been serenaded with lead!”

While on his way to the electric chair, a death row murderer attempts to blow the whistle on the man who framed him.  Just as he’s about to open his trap though, he gets killed by a poison blow dart.  The District Attorney then locks the door and forces everyone in the room to strip so he can find the murder weapon.  He doesn't find dick and without concrete evidence, he lets the killer go free.  When more people wind up dead, the DA enlists the help of a snooping reporter to trap the master criminal.

I Killed That Man starts off with a bang.  The scene of the inmate getting whacked in plain view of several people unnoticed was cool but the flick grinds to a halt once the DA stupidly lets the murderer roam free.  Why did he do this?  Because if he didn’t, we wouldn’t have a movie, that’s why.  There’s also a dumb subplot about the reporter not being able to cash a check that slows the action down considerably.

As far as these cheapie Monogram murder mysteries go, I Killed That Man pretty middle of the road.  It’s got all the characters (chatty reporters, dapper detectives, well-dressed thugs, etc.) you’d expect from the genre and the short running time (69 minutes) is definitely a plus.  I Killed That Man is innocuous and forgettable but if you’re a fiend for this sort of thing I won’t stop you from checking it out.

Director Phil Rosen later helmed several Charlie Chan mysteries. 

Tom Tryon gets his body taken over by an alien being on the eve of his wedding.  Soon after he gets married, his wife Gloria Talbott starts noticing that he isn’t quite the same.  He becomes distant, has the ability to see in the dark, and dogs and cats suddenly hate his guts.  She eventually realizes that her husband is not of this earth.  Pretty soon, more aliens start inhabiting the bodies of all the males in town and it’s up to the neurotic newlywed to find someone who will believe her about the imminent invasion.

What makes I Married a Monster from Outer Space work is that director Gene (I Was a Teenage Werewolf) Fowler, Jr. doesn’t treat the material as if it’s a cheesy 50’s Sci-Fi flick.  The film looks classy as the camera moves around a lot and the cinematography is excellent.  The script by Louis (The Rebel Set) Vittes is nicely layered and doesn’t descend into melodrama, which is refreshing.  Like Attack of the 50 Foot Woman from the same year, I Married a Monster from Outer Space has an interesting feminist slant that raises it a notch or two above the usual genre standards.  The script even goes into the otherwise taboo area of the aliens mating with humans to produce “our” children.

The effects are top notch.  The cool looking aliens resemble Man-Thing on acid and can shoot disintegrating rays out of their hands.  There’s also a great scene when the glowing aliens get shot and their skin immediately heals over the wound.  I also dug the part where the human host melted into bubbly goo after the connection to their mother ship was broken.

The performances are engaging and add a lot of depth to the film.  Gloria (The Leech Woman) Talbot is quite memorable as the suspicious wife and Tryon is pretty good as the aloof alien.  My only real complaint with the flick was that we never really get a chance to know what his character was like before he became an alien.  In movies like Invasion of the Body Snatchers of Invaders from Mars, we get a real sense of what the characters were like before they were possessed by aliens.  Here, we basically just have to take the wife’s word that her hubby’s acting bizarre.

Another thing that I thought was weird about the film was that Tryon actually STOPS drinking once he gets married.  I think the filmmakers really missed a bet here.  I mean wouldn’t it be cooler if it was the other way around and he started drinking MORE once he got married?  I think they call that “social commentary” or something.

I really like Kevin Sorbo.  I thought after Hercules went off the air, he’d be able to have a big screen career.  After the failure of Kull the Conqueror, that never came to fruition.  He now stars in about seven hundred SyFy Channel Originals a year.  Tonight, SyFy had a triple feature of the man’s recent films and while none of them are nowhere near as much fun as Never Cry Werewolf (the Citizen Kane of Kevin Sorbo SyFy Channel Originals), they nevertheless are a good showcase for the man’s considerable acting chops.

LIGHTNING STRIKES  (2009)  **

A small town is plagued by an ominous electrical storm.  The sheriff (Kevin Sorbo) and a group of storm chasers investigate a death of a young boy by a lightning strike; much to the chagrin of the metrosexual mayor who doesn’t want any bad publicity for the town’s upcoming pumpkin festival.  With some help from a creepy drifter (David Schofield from An American Werewolf in London), our heroes learn that there is actually life form inside of the lightning that singles out people and kills them. 

It’s not as stupid as it sounds; mostly because the actors play it very realistically.  (Well, except the sissy mayor.)  Sorbo does a fine job in the lead and his “Aw shucks” persona is a perfect fit for the material.  Schofield also brings his A-Game to the Captain Ahab role who holds a major grudge against the Lightning Monster.

You know things are going to be bad though when you start praising the performances in a SyFy Channel Original.  The thing that ultimately sinks the flick is that the kills are pretty weak and interchangeable (the creature’s victims just get a little crispy).  Plus, there isn’t too much action until the almost the very end.  

Another thing that irked me about the movie was the fact that nothing was ever really done with the creature.  The idea of a monster hiding in lighting is intriguing enough (“intriguing” for a SyFy Channel Original anyway) but we never learn anything about it except it kinda looks like Syngenor.  The “rules” of the creature are pretty lame (it can vanquish people into a white void that resembles The Matrix) and the reasoning why it can’t “strike twice” is stupid.

Director Gary (Boogeyman 3) Jones films things in a straightforward manner but every now and then he will toss out a hilarious slice of WTF.  My favorite scene was when Sorbo opened up a body bag of a charred corpse in the middle of the festival in plain view of several onlookers.  Why wouldn’t he wait until he got to the morgue to do that?  The answer:  Because then we wouldn’t have the priceless reaction shot of the only black guy in the town looking over Sorbo’s shoulder at the corpse and hollering, “DAAAAAAMMN!”, that’s why.

Schofield gets the best line of the film when he says, “The only way to save Billy is to send me straight to Hell!”

FIRE FROM BELOW  (2009)  * ½

Miners unearth some Lithium for a wealthy jackass industrialist.  When the element gets wet, it turns into a deadly fireball with a mind of it’s own.  Kevin Sorbo (who also executive produced) stars as a seismologist who along with his wife tries to figure out a way to stop it before it completely destroys a small town.

While Lightning Strikes was consistently mediocre all the way through, Fire From Below (not to be confused with the Steven Seagal flick, Fire Down Below) is non-stop shittiness punctuated with moments of laugh out loud insanity.  The “plot” sucks more than a two dollar hooker on half-price night.  When it comes to the kills though, it’s downright hilarious.  See huge ass fireballs torch miners, flambé water skiers, barbeque rednecks in their outhouse, and cause horny teens to explode while taking a leak.  Most of the flick unfortunately is devoted to lame-o action sequences where Sorbo and company narrowly outrun giant balls of fire.  Then there are the intensely stupid scenes of a news anchor reporting on stuff we’ve already seen that only helps to pad out the running time to fit a two hour time slot.

Sorbo skates by on his easygoing charisma and does what he can with the sorry script he was given.  Needless to say, that isn’t much.  No one else in the cast comes close to delivering as good a performance as old Kev.  Maybe that’s what you get when Andrew (The Terror Within 2) Stevens and Jim (Extreme Limits) Wynorksi are in the directors’ chairs.

SOMETHING BENEATH  (2007)  * ½

Kevin Sorbo stars as a kindhearted preacher attending an ecological conference in a fancy hotel.  Unbeknownst to anyone, the hotel’s foundation was built on a fountain of hallucinogenic black goop.  When this onyx ooze gets on people it causes it’s victims to have bizarre visions until they eventually die.

Something Beneath takes a potentially interesting Lovecraftian premise and squanders it.  Most of the “scary” scenes mandate that the actors walk around aimlessly with the black gunk on them for what seems like forever until their hallucination finally kicks in.  Unfortunately, the majority of their freakouts end up being pretty crappy.  (The opening severed head scene being the lone exception.)  The final confrontation with the goo beast (it looks like a multi-tentacled turd) is a major letdown as well.

Sorbo nearly salvages this mess.  He gives the hunky priest a lot of depth and manages to make his character three-dimensional.  Anyone who thinks Sorbo is just a pretty boy should check him out here.  His performance is easily the best thing about this middling movie.  All the other characters, from the bratty socialite (clearly modeled on Paris Hilton) to the crazed scientist who lives in the basement are thoroughly annoying and cancel out Sorbo’s admirable acting abilities. 

The crooked cop gets the best line of the movie when he tells Sorbo, “Preacher, get the flock out of here!”

The Hollywood Knights is basically a rehash of American Graffiti.  Except the acting and directing isn’t as good.  It does have a bunch of titties in it though so that makes it watchable.

Just like American Graffiti, there isn’t any plot; just a bunch of nostalgic interconnected incidents revolving around a group of teens over the course of a single night.  We get drag racing, mooning, and a lot of excessive loitering at a drive-in restaurant.  We also get pissing in the punchbowl and nerdy band leader hazing.  All of this happens while the soundtrack blares the requisite wall-to-wall oldies.

The characters are basically the same too.  There’s the guy who’s going away to Vietnam, the prankster, the gearhead, the cool DJ, and the nerd.  As in American Graffiti, most of the actors playing these roles went on to bigger and better things.  Among them are Tony Danza, Michelle Pfeiffer, Robert Wuhl, and Fran Dresher.

A lot of the humor is sophomoric and although nothing in the flick comes close to matching American Graffiti, it’s sorta funny.  The highlight comes when some pledges are made to walk through Watts buck ass naked in the middle of the night.  They grab a couple sheets off a clothesline and wrap themselves up.  Predictably, they are mistaken for the KKK.  Hilarity ensues.

Danza is the “star” of the movie but he isn’t really given a whole lot to do besides whine at Pfeiffer a lot.  Wuhl comes off best as the jokester of the group who pulls off a lot of pranks.  He gets the most screen time of anyone and says all the funniest lines like, “Did you hear about the guy with five penises?  His pants fit like a glove!”

Peter O’Toole stars as an English lord who tries to assassinate Adolf Hitler after the Nazis kill his wife.  He is promptly caught and gets roughed up by the Gestapo who rips out his fingernails and toss him over a cliff.  Left for dead, Pete eventually escapes to England and is relentlessly pursued by the nasty Nazis.  When no one will help him, O’Toole goes into hiding by digging a hole in the side of a mountain.  While living with his cat inside of his manmade cave, Pete gets a visit by the main Gestapo jerkoff and has to think on his feet if he wants to avoid capture.

Rogue Male gets off to a promising start.  Although nothing is ever really shown, the torture scenes are pretty effective and O’Toole’s escape is sorta tense.  However, much of the tension drains out of the film once he arrives in England and the third act is especially lifeless.  I mean I was ready to pull my hair out of my scalp by the fifth scene of O’Toole bargaining for his life from inside of his underground hideout.

O’Toole gives a stellar performance and always commands the audience’s attention.  He’s particularly great when the Nazis are kicking the shit out of him.  O’Toole has a brazenness about him that’s likable in these scenes and he really makes you root for him.  Alastair (A Christmas Carol) Sim also does a fine job in a cameo as O’Toole’s uncaring uncle.  Ultimately, their efforts are not enough to save the flick.

I meant to check this out as part of my extended Horror Franchise Marathon but shit got a little hectic when my daughter got born and it kinda slipped through the cracks.  Now I make no bones about my contempt for the Candyman series.  I never “got” them I guess.  Everyone talks about how atmospheric they are.  To me though, they’ve always been pretty weak.  This is the best one of the trilogy.  Candyman fans may think I’m being sacrilegious but that’s just how I feel.  It probably had something to do with my lowered expectations more than anything.

Donna D’Errico plays the great granddaughter of Candyman (Tony Todd).  As a promotion for an art exhibit featuring the Candyman’s paintings, she says his name five times in front of a mirror and resurrects the hook-handed madman.  Predictably, he goes around murdering a bunch of people while offering his descendant a chance to become a card-carrying Candywoman.

While the first two Candyman flicks where all about being pompous and slow-moving, this Direct to Video sequel is a bit more down and dirty.  It actually tries to give the audience what they want; namely titties and blood.  The other films tried too hard to be “legitimate” movies and consequently got bogged down in a hurry.  Part 3 is refreshingly content with just being a lowbrow Direct to Video horror sequel.  For that and little else, I admired it.

Although Day of the Dead is an improvement over the previous installments, it still isn’t very good.  The “plot” just basically calls for Candyman to harass D’Errico while forcing her to watch as he guts her friends.  This is OK for the first 45 minutes or so but it gets a bit tiresome after awhile.  You also have to deal with some annoying Candyman worshipping punks/art critics, a bunch of stupid dream sequences, and an ending that pretty much sucks too.

Todd once again gives a menacing performance as Candyman.  You know, it’s a shame that time and again, he gives 100% in these movies and each time the filmmakers let him down.  I mean they have a great looking psycho and all they do with him is make him say inane shit like, “Join me in death!” over and over again in a voice that sounds like a cross between Barry White and Darth Vader.  

Nick (A Nightmare on Elm Street) Corri also does a good job in the hero role who tries to protect D’Errico from Candyman.  Speaking of D’Errico, she looks amazingly hot in the flick and what she lacks in the acting department, she more than makes up for in yummy-ness.  Maybe if her Baywatch co-star David Hasselhoff showed up, the movie might’ve rocked.

Suggested Drinking Game:  Take a shot every time Candyman says, “Be my victim!”

The Falcon (Tom Conway) returns for his ninth murder mystery.  In this one, he tries to help a pretty senorita in distress and winds up being blamed for the murder of an art dealer.  In order to clear his name, the super sleuth heads down to Mexico where he teams up with the daughter of a missing artist to solve the mystery.

The Falcon in Mexico is a pretty tepid entry in the franchise.  Although it features an interesting location (scenes of the local color were taken from Orson Welles’ unfinished film, It’s All True) and some supernatural elements (the chick sees the “ghost” of her dead father), The Falcon’s south of the border adventure is about as appealing as a three day old burrito.  Much of the action is slow moving and the dapper detective basically just chases his own tail for the better half of the film’s running time.  The lame musical numbers are particularly gratuitious.

While this installment is a bit of a letdown, the performances certainly help.  Conway does some fine work as the silver-tongued sleuth.  His air of regality helps to elevate the ho-hum material.  Nestor (The Creature from the Black Lagoon) Paiva also gets some pretty funny lines as The Falcon’s loyal comic relief Mexican chauffeur. 

Screenwriter George Worthing Yates also wrote The Amazing Colossal Man.

The third Falcon adventure was based on Raymond Chandler’s Farewell, My Lovely with The Falcon filling in for Phillip Marlowe.  While in the midst of investigating the murder of a nightclub owner, The Falcon (George Sanders) agrees to help track down a stolen jade necklace.  The Falcon eventually uncovers an elaborate blackmail scheme and is nearly killed by an alluring femme fatale (Helen Gilbert).  Luckily for him, her jealous musclebound psycho boyfriend Moose Malloy (Ward Bond) gets to her first.

The Falcon Takes Over is considerably darker in tone than the other films in the series.  The mashing up of the gritty Raymond Chandler and the lightweight Falcon is an odd one to say the least.  Unfortunately, the flick shifts unevenly from comedy and film noir and never really gathers the steam necessary to become wholly involving.

Again, Sanders is a complete badass and nearly succeeds in saving the film.  Ward Bond also does a good job as the hulking killer Moose Malloy.  His constant run-ins with The Falcon’s sidekick Goldy are the highlights of the film.  I also liked Gilbert’s sultry turn as the deadly blonde.  It’s Inspector O’Hara who gets the best line of the film when he says, “It’s either sing or Sing Sing!”

George Sanders returns as the cool as a cucumber crime solver The Falcon in the second film of the series.  This time around, The Falcon must rescue a kidnapped scientist who has perfected a formula to create a flawless imitation diamond.  This naturally pisses off his perpetually put-upon fiancé who wants him to give up sleuthing and settle down with her.

A Date with the Falcon suffers from a weak plotline but it has it’s share of moments.  There’s a funny scene where The Falcon gets captured by the bad guys and foils the kidnapping by making goofy faces at a passing cop.  Also amusing is the part where The Falcon hides on the ledge of a tall building from a killer and his annoying fiancé gives him away by yelling and screaming at him.

What kinda knocks this installment down a notch is the fact that The Falcon gets a little sloppy.  I mean the bad guys get the drop on him no less than THREE times in this one.  (Once was intentional, but still.)  The ending was also wrapped up a little too conveniently for my tastes too.

The story maybe second rate, but Sanders’ great performance will keep you entertained.  Allen Jenkins yet again delivers a funny turn as The Falcon’s dim-witted right hand man Goldy.  Hans Conreid also has a memorable bit part as a slimy hotel desk clerk.

After portraying the sleuthing Saint, George Sanders moved to RKO to take on the similar role of The Falcon.  This one is the first in the series.  And FYI, the title refers to his first name, “Gay” and not his sexual preference because he’s definitely a ladies man. 

The Falcon is engaged to be married and promises his bride-to-be to give up his crime-solving ways.  He takes a job as a Wall Street broker but is lured out of retirement to investigate a rash of jewelry thefts centering around a wealthy socialite.  When the jewel thieves frame The Falcon’s bumbling sidekick for multiple murders, Gay tries to clear his name and bring the villains to justice.

I’ve always been a fan of these 40’s B Movie Detective Programmers.  While The Falcon series lacks the panache of The Saint films, they nevertheless get the job done.  What really makes this one work is the charisma of Sanders as the smooth-talking, suave-ass, spinach juice-drinking Falcon.  He’s pretty much a pimp in this movie.  He has a flair for romantic comedy and is actually very funny when juggling his fiancé and a giddy groupie.

The plot leaves something to be desired.  There are no clever plot twists or anything, just The Falcon trying to get the goods on the bad guys.  That’s okay because you’ll be too busy relishing Sanders’ performance to notice the lack of surprises.

Sanders returned the next year in A Date with the Falcon.

A team of psychics go to the titular haunted house to prove to some wealthy millionaire that there is life after death.  Luckily for us, there is.  Otherwise, we wouldn’t have a movie.  The ghost goes around making the chicks horny while the one sciency guy tries to “cleanse” the house by starting up a big doodad that looks like a computerized washer-dryer combo.  It does not go well. 

The Legend of Hell House is kinda like The Haunting with a libido.  One chick gets possessed and tries to sex up Roddy McDowall and says, “If you don’t touch me I’ll find somebody who will!”  The other mousy broad offers herself up to the spirit “freely” and the ghost goes all kinds of Marv Albert on her.  These scenes are cool for the most part but far too much of the flick is taken up by a bunch of stiff lipped Brits wandering aimlessly around the house.

Director John (Dirty Mary, Crazy Larry) Hough films everything with a capable hand.  He gives us all the stuff we’d expect from a haunted house picture (flying bed sheets, slamming doors, shattering China, dropping chandeliers, etc.) but also tosses in one or two expected surprises.  The highlight is a pretty great possessed cat attack scene; complete with Pussy POV. 

The Legend of Hell House is slightly better than most of it’s ilk.  The heightened sex drive adds a little something-something to the proceedings (heck, even the shadows hump each other) and helps to set it apart from the rest of the pack.  Despite being a tad kinkier than most haunted house spook shows, it still falls into the same pitfalls inherent in the genre; namely the fact that  flying bed sheets, slamming doors, shattering China, dropping chandeliers, etc. just aren’t very scary.

Anthology horror movies have been pretty scarce nowadays but director Michael (the guy who wrote X-Men 2) Dougherty tries to shake things up with Trick ‘R Treat.  Since Hollywood won’t touch anthology horror flicks (the fact that this had to go straight to DVD reinforces that), Dougherty tried to disguise it by having all the stories interlock a la Pulp Fiction.  The results are some of the best horror anthologizing you’ve seen since Night Train to Terror.

Basically what we have is a whole bunch of weirdness happening in a small town over the course of Halloween night.  One psycho principal (Dylan Baker) poisons a kid’s candy and makes a jack o’ lantern out of his decapitated head.  Later, he becomes a vampire and drinks some chick’s blood before getting turned into Lycanthrope Chow by a virgin werewolf (Anna Paquin).  Meanwhile, a bunch of surly trick or treaters get terrorized by some zombie Shortbusers and a crazy old man (Brian Cox) is attacked by a murderous pumpkin-headed munchkin named Sam (Quinn Lord).

I think what separates Trick ‘R Treat from the usual crop of horror films is it’s willingness to be nasty and mean.  More kids get mutilated and killed in this movie than any in horror history.  All of this could’ve been disastrous, but Dougherty imbues the flick with a mischievous black humor that is perfectly befitting of All Hallow’s Eve.  Dougherty effectively walks the line between horror and humor and in turn, creates one of the most original fright flicks in some time.

Trick ‘R Treat is not without it’s faults.  Since the film features interlocking characters and storylines, a couple of scenes are repeated.  This works to the flick’s disadvantage because some of the scares are telegraphed in advance.  Ultimately, this is a minor quibble because there are still enough surprises here to make it worthwhile.  In the era of pointless remakes and gratuitous sequels, Trick ‘R Treat is definitely a breath of fresh air.

A gruff cop gets assigned a new partner and he grudgingly shows him the ropes of being an undercover policeman.  The wet-behind-the-ears rookie is shocked to see the slightly shady cop shaking down a bunch of criminals in order to pay for his wife’s increasing gambling debts, but they still become friends.  When the town kingpin tries to have the rookie cop killed, he barely escapes with his life.  After getting healed up, he goes out for revenge. 

The opening scenes kinda play out like an Old School Kung Fu version of Training Day.  This part of the film is pretty funny, but things begin to unravel once the plot takes a serious turn.  After that, the film focuses less on the interplay between the crooked cop and the green rookie and becomes just your basic run of the mill Kung Fu flick. 

The final bloody brawl between the two cops and the killer in white pajamas is appropriately intense and there is a handful of decent fight scenes sprinkled in here and there throughout the film.  I especially dug the scene where the rookie got stabbed in the heart and BOTH calves and still kept fighting.  As good as the action is; a lot of the goofy humor is ill-fitting.  All the stuff involving the gambling wife is pretty excruciating and the less said about the henchman with an unbelievable set of buck teeth the better. 

If Shadow Ninja was either a tough as nails revenge picture or a tongue in cheek buddy cop movie; it would’ve worked.  Since it tries to be a bit of both, it fails in both departments.  Still, it’s not the worst movie with the word “Ninja” in the title I’ve ever seen.

AKA:  The Killer in White.  AKA:  The Killer Wears White.

The Alamo was John Wayne’s dream directing project, a sprawling big budget epic about Davy Crockett and Jim Bowie’s heroic last stand.  The fact that he had no experience behind the camera didn’t stop him from making the film.  Even the studios were unsure about the massive undertaking and wouldn’t allow him a sufficient budget, so The Duke had to reach into his own pockets and finance part of the film.  He needn’t had bothered.  This Alamo isn’t worth remembering. 

Colonel Travis (Laurence Harvey) gets orders from General Houston (Richard Boone) to defend the Alamo at all costs from the Mexican army.  Living legends Davy Crockett (John Wayne) and Jim Bowie (Richard Widmark) volunteer their services and turn the rundown mission into a fortress.  Severely outnumbered (185 to 7000), they nevertheless put up a gallant fight that lasts for thirteen days before they reach their inevitable demise.

Wayne’s overwhelming need to make this an epic ultimately works against the movie.  Wayne seems to be under the impression that Epic Length = Epic Movie, but that’s not always necessarily the case.  At 203 minutes, it’s one tough slog.  Bloated and overlong, The Alamo’s biggest crime is that it takes forever to get going.  I mean Davy Crockett doesn’t even show up until a half an hour into the movie and he’s the main character for Pete’s sake. 

Things may have went a whole lot smoother if the running time been a bit more reasonable; say two hours.  However, Wayne tosses in so many superfluous scenes of inconsequential supporting characters spouting incessant verbal diarrhea that it ruins the flow of the whole movie.  If Wayne had forgotten about the dozen or so bit players and concentrated more on the interaction between Crockett, Bowie, and Travis; it would’ve resulted in a much tighter film.

Wayne’s inexperience behind the camera further hamstrings things.  His directing style basically consists of him sitting the camera down and letting his actors recite their dialogue flatly.  In front of the camera, The Duke doesn’t fare much better.  I can’t exactly say he gives a “bad” performance but when John F’ing Wayne is playing Davy F’ing Crockett, you expect better.  Although Widmark puts in a solid turn as the hotheaded Jim Bowie, it’s Harvey that gives the best performance in the film.  At one point, Bowie calls him a “prissy jackass” and while that’s pretty accurate, Travis also has another prideful side to him that makes him interesting.  He’s the only three-dimensional character in the whole flick.

The final siege is quite exciting and features lots of mofo’s getting bayoneted, stabbed, and shot.  This 40 minute sequence shows that The Duke (or his second unit director at least) could film action.  After about 163 minutes of talk, talk, talk though; it’s the very definition of too little too late.  The stirring score by Dimitri Tiomkin helps but not much.

Wayne’s next film as director was The Green Berets. 

Valentina (Isabelle de Funes) is a sultry fashion photographer who has a run-in with the mysterious Baba Yaga (Carroll Baker), a MILFy witch.  Baba Yaga immediately becomes obsessed with the delectable photog and pretty soon, she’s sending Valentina bizarre gifts (like a kinky S & M Barbie doll) and playing odd pranks on her (she turns her camera into a death magnet).  As Valentina falls deeper under Baba Yaga’s spell, it’s up to her smug cartoonist boyfriend (George Eastman, the Grim Reaper himself) to save her from the clutches of the bitchy witch.

A lot of Baba Yaga is pointlessly artsy-fartsy for the sake of being artsy-fartsy.  There’s a sex scene that’s almost entirely comprised of still photographs as well as a bunch of completely random dream sequences that help pad the running time.  While the film is uneven and disjointed, I still dug it for it’s everything-but-the-kitchen-sink attitude.  I mean how can you go wrong when your movie features mature lesbian witches, sexy fashion photographers, nude modeling, cameras that kill, Nazi dream sequences, and dolls that come to life and become S & M sex slaves?

Carroll Baker does an OK job as the title character.  She looks alright I guess but she doesn’t really radiate the air of sexuality the character needed.  De Funes is the reason to check the flick out.  Her sexy wide-eyed stare and absolute willingness to disrobe at the drop of a hat totally endeared her to me. 

AKA:  Baby Yaga, Devil Witch.  AKA:  The Devil Witch.  AKA:  Kiss Me Kill Me.  AKA:  Black Magic.

Supergator is exactly the sort of thing you would expect from a Sci-Fi Ch… err… Sy Fy Channel Original Movie produced by Roger Corman.  This time instead of say, a giant mutant snake terrorizing a carnival or something, it’s an enormous genetically-engineered prehistoric alligator attacking an island luau.  Everything else is practically the same; including the characters.  There’s the stern faced scientist, the great white hunter, the stupid teens, and of course, the extremely shitty looking CGI monster. 

The film is no better or worse than it should be.  The gore is better than average though.  Supergator bites off heads, arms, and legs; leaving lots of CGI blood in it’s wake.  Most of the film is kinda ho-hum but things do get quite lively during the finale when Supergator starts chowing down on hula girls, tourists, and chicks in bikinis.  There are even attempts at humor (a gay fashion photographer gets eaten), which is always appreciated.  (I emphasize the word “attempts”.) 

The acting is crappy but you probably knew that already.  Giving the worst performance of probably her career; Kelly McGillis looks almost as bad as she acts.  She has aged about as well as a turd in the sun.  With her craggily face and closely cropped gray hair, she looks like Judi Dench’s stunt double.  Top Gun wasn’t THAT long ago, was it?  Brad (Always) Johnson fares slightly better and he sorta looks like Tom Berenger’s disinterested brother or something.

The great white hunter dude gets the best line of the movie when he says, “She called it a Supergator.  I just didn’t realize how super it was!”

John Wayne stars as a Union colonel who gets a job corralling horses after the end of the Civil War.  While on the trail, he runs into his Rebel counterpart (Rock Hudson) who is taking a wagon train of people to start a new life in Mexico.  Despite their obvious differences, the two men earn each other’s respect before going their separate ways.  When Rock’s people get kidnapped by some greasy Mexican revolutionaries, The Duke steps in to help out his new pal and kick a little ass.

The pairing of the machoest man in film history, John Wayne with gay icon Rock Hudson is a strange one indeed.  The good news is that they make a solid team.  The bad news is that the story is pretty flat and overlong.

The film does have a terrific opening scene.  Wayne leads his troops into battle and they quickly massacre a bunch of Rebel soldiers.  Then a messenger comes onto the battlefield and announces that the war was over three days ago.  The look of disgust that Wayne gives to the fallen soldiers on both sides is memorable and only goes to show that The Duke was a much better actor than many gave him credit for.

What takes The Undefeated down a notch is the ungodly amount filler in the middle section.  (The subplot about Wayne’s adopted Indian son romancing a Southern Belle is particularly gratuitous.)  Once The Duke and Hudson join forces, things pick up considerably.  Director Andrew V. McLaglen’s pacing is uneven to be sure, but he does give us a pretty good Yankees vs. Confederates fight scene.  It’s not as good as the immortal mud pit brawl from McClintock, but it’s still tight.  McLaglen re-teamed with Wayne the next year for Chisum.

An R & B singing sensation named Liz (Leslie Uggams) goes on vacation to get away from it all.  Her car breaks down in a small redneck town and she winds up staying in a crappy motel ran by the mentally imbalanced Eddie (Michael Christian) who immediately gets a crush on her.  This predictably makes his fat and ugly ex-stripper girlfriend (Shelley Winters) jealous.  Despite her protestations, Eddie sets out to woo Liz.  And by woo I mean kidnap and rape her.  Since everyone in the town is an A-1 nutbar, the sheriff (Slim Pickens) doesn’t see a problem with that and even gets the whole town together for their “wedding”.  Luckily, the one decent guy in town (Ted Cassidy) decides to break up the nuptials with a shotgun.

Poor Pretty Eddie is marinated in a grimy grindhouse atmosphere that sorta worked.  Much of the film is muddy looking but that kinda enhances the overall mood.  Unfortunately, it’s all pretty tasteless; even for my usually low standards.  There is a buffet of loathsomeness here.  While the scene where Liz gets molested in front of the entire VFW was bad, I say the film hit the bottom of the barrel during the first rape scene.  Director Chris Robinson (not the guy from The Black Crowes) crossed the line when he edited a pair of humping dogs in with the attack.  I mean there’s poor taste and there’s no taste.  This scene is a case of the latter.  It gives new meaning to the term, Doggystyle.

Although the film isn’t a whole heck of a lot of fun, the great supporting cast keeps you watching.  In addition to Shelley Winters’ over-acting, you can enjoy western veterans Dub Taylor and Slim Pickens (playing yet another slow-witted sheriff) as two of the viler community members.  I also dug the understated work of Cassidy.  I had no idea that Lurch from The Addams Family was such a good actor.

Taylor gets the best line of the movie when he says, “I don’t care if she farts Channel No. 5!”

AKA:  Heartbreak Motel.  AKA:  Redneck County.  AKA:  Redneck County Rape.  AKA:  Black Vengeance. 

The bride’s family in this movie has an awfully bizarre wedding custom.  When she and her husband leave the reception, her relatives chase them down the highway and if they catch up to her, they are allowed to heckle the couple while they consummate the marriage.  Strangely enough, this isn’t the “Nightmare” part of the Honeymoon. 

The honeymooning couple successfully eludes the bride’s weirdo family and decides that the woods are the best place to consummate the marriage.  Now normal newlyweds like to consummate their marriage while in the comfort of a hotel room but these idiots stupidly try to play Hide the Salami out in the woods.  (I guess when you have a family of Peeping Toms; you take what you can get.)  While in the woods, the couple witnesses a murder and when they try to run, the killers knock the husband unconscious and rape the wife.  After an excessive amount of whining, the husband finally nuts up and decides to track down the rapists and kill them.

Nightmare Honeymoon sounds like a grand old time but it’s way too tame to be any good.  Director Eliot Silverstein did such a great job with all the gore in A Man Called Horse, so it’s actually kinda depressing to see him totally wimp out here by keeping the rape off screen.  Now I don’t mean to sound like a misogynist or anything but when you’re doing a Rape n’ Revenge Movie, you have to actually SHOW the rape to make the revenge part worthwhile.  Take I Spit on Your Grave, Last House on the Left, or Ms. 45 for example.  They are the Holy Trinity of Rape n’ Revenge Flicks and all three of them show us the rape in excruciating detail.  That way, the audience really wants to see the rapists get their comeuppance in the end.  In Nightmare Honeymoon, the husband blacks out so we don’t get to see the rape and the wife doesn’t tell him about it until later in the film.  (For all we know, she could just be making the whole thing up just to get attention.) 

Silverstein probably thinks he’s doing one of those “What you don’t see is scarier than what you do see” numbers here.  With a genre like this one though, you really need to be explicit in order to be effective.  Because of this, Nightmare Honeymoon is completely neutered of any tension and feels about as edgy as an episode of Kojack.

The final confrontation with the rapists is also pathetic.  In the end the husband just shoves a pole through the main scumbag’s chest.  After about 90 minutes of lame-o melodrama and non-existent tension, the villain’s demise leaves a lot to be desired.  Heck, even the wife screams, “It’s not enough!” over and over again.  Talk about a gyp.

AKA:  Deadly Honeymoon.

Before she danced with Fred Astaire, Ginger Rogers starred in this innocuous murder mystery. A guy falls out of a tall building and the police try to determine if it was an accident or if it was murder. (SPOILER: It was murder!) Ginger plays a spunky reporter who tries to get the story. Lyle (Plan 9 from Outer Space) Talbot plays her boyfriend (and rival) who steals her scoop. She gets pissed at him but he redeems himself when he saves her from the clutches of the killer.

A Shriek in the Night is pretty weak and forgettable. Despite being creaky and slow moving, there was at least one cool shot of the gas mask wearing killer creeping around that was sorta effective. I think what really sinks the film is the fact that the plot is so dang convoluted. I mean the last five minutes of the flick is devoted to Talbot explaining the killer’s motive. The thing that keeps the film from being a complete waste of time is the chemistry between Rogers and Talbot. They actually delivered their snappy reporter banter with gusto and their performances are better than the material deserves.

Although this movie was on one of my many 50 horror movie packs, A Shriek in the Night isn’t really a horror movie. I will say one thing for it; it features a lot of people shrieking in the night. In addition to the victims; old ladies, maids, and even Rogers herself all get chances to give their lungs a workout. In that respect, it lives up to it’s title.

Jon Voight co-wrote and stars in this sloppy, stillborn, and unfocused mess of a movie.  He plays an annoying gambler who along with his buddy (Burt Young) head to Las Vegas to avoid some angry loan sharks.  Once there, they scheme and connive to make some quick cash and Voight ends up re-connecting with an old flame (Ann-Margaret) who bore him a child (Angelina Jolie in her film debut).

Lookin’ to Get Out was a big dud in it’s time and never got a proper release.  I can see why.  Voight’s performance is thoroughly irritating and since he’s such a lout; it’s hard to really give a shit about him.  Also, the movie has a lot of long, boring stretches where next to nothing happens.  Because of that, all we can concentrate on is how grating Voight is.  And let me tell ya; it’s not a heck of a lot of fun.

The thing that really pissed me off about this movie was the ending, where Voight and Young get away Scot free.  Are we supposed to believe that the bumbling duo would be allowed to fleece the casino and the owner would let them walk out the door?  And what about the security guards?  They were about as competent as the Keystone Kops.  The day you let the tubby Burt Young get the best of you is the day you turn in your Rent-A-Cop diploma.

The film was directed by Hal Ashby, a guy that’s used to directing good movies like Being There and Harold and Maude.  I don’t really blame him though.  This was Voight’s baby all the way.  He was responsible for the listless script and his overindulgent performance is hard to take.  I guess we do have to give him some props for putting his daughter, Angelina Jolie in the movie. 

The daughter of the Boogeyman obsessed doctor from Part 2 finds daddy’s diaries and when she reads from the book, it reawakens the Boogeyman.  The spectral beastie comes out of the closet (no pun intended) and kills her and then makes it look like a suicide.  Her psychology major roommate also reads the book and pretty soon, the Boogeyman murders her friends one by one before finally setting his sights on our heroine.

The first Boogeyman was a terrible PG-13 horror movie.  Part 2 was OK, but at least it was smart enough to chuck the supernatural shenanigans and give us a gory slasher flick.  This one unfortunately is more in line with the first film because it revives the ghostly murderer (although it’s mostly a guy wearing white make-up and greasy long hair rather than the CGI turd monster from the original).  On the bright side, the kills are juicy (my favorite was when the stoner gets impaled on his bong), we get to see a few titties, and the ending is marginally clever. 

Other than that, Boogeyman 3 is just another interchangeable crappy Direct to DVD horror sequel.  Gary (Mosquito) Jones directs the film with little style, which doesn’t do the flick any favors and the script suffers from way too much padding.  It also takes FOREVER to get going.  Ultimately, the flick actually feels more like a Grudge rip-off (the ghost attacks people who live in the same room over a period of time) than a Boogeyman movie.  It’s a smidgeon better than the original but that’s not exactly a ringing endorsement.   

Tom (Newhart) Poston plays a college professor who obtains a magical coin that gives him the power to hurt people whenever he points at them. It also allows him to slow down time when he says “Zotz”! And when he points at someone AND says “Zotz”, they die. Since this is a family friendly movie, he doesn’t do that. (Although he does wantonly murder a lizard to prove that he can do it.) Naturally, some Russian spies learn of his power and try to get their hands on the coin for their own devious purposes.

Even though this flick was directed by horror movie gimmick guru William (House on Haunted Hill) Castle, Zotz! is more of a comedy with some fantastical elements thrown in. (It’s basically like a slightly better version of one of those Flubber movies.) While Castle was the master when it came to movie gimmicks, the gimmick for Zotz! was kinda weak (patrons were given Zotz coins). Likewise, the movie itself is not up to the usual Castle standards.

Things get started off on the right foot as the flick has a couple laughs early on. The spy subplot is quite pathetic and involves a lot of dumb shit where bumbling Russkies have to pretend to run in slow motion whenever Poston says "Zotz". I did like the part when the spy fired a pistol at Poston and he slowed down the bullet by yelling the title. This guy was dodging bullets in slow motion long before Keanu Reeves made it hip.

Poston is likeable and makes for a goofy lead. His charm can only carry the flick so far though. The great supporting cast, which includes Jim Backus and Margaret Dumont certainly helps.

Castle’s next was 13 Frightened Girls!

This really should’ve been called I Was a Teenage Vampire. Unfortunately, the folks at AIP chickened out. It’s the third in the series, and while it isn’t quite in the same league as I Was a Teenage Werewolf or I Was a Teenage Frankenstein; it still has it’s moments.

The film is essentially a remake of I Was a Teenage Werewolf. Instead of Michael Landon getting hypnotized by a deranged doctor into becoming a werewolf, we get a mousy chick (Sandra Harrison) getting hypnotized by a deranged doctor (Louise Lewis) into becoming a vampire. Other than that, it’s the same damn thing. There’s even a funny rock song (called “Puppy Love”) in there for no good reason whatsoever.

The first act is great. I particularly liked the scenes with the bitchy sorority girls hazing our heroine and saying shit like, “Cool it, Old Horse Face is on a warpath!” The problem is that it takes her forever to turn into the vampire. Sure, the goofy ass make-up is hilarious, but Harrison’s transformation doesn’t occur until the movie is more than halfway over.

Also, the evil doctor’s plan doesn’t make a lick of damn sense. I mean she is trying to unleash a power within her that’s “greater than the atom bomb”. I had no idea that vampires with teased hair, oversized Halloween fangs, and extremely bushy eyebrows were more powerful than an A-Bomb.

Still, Blood of Dracula is plenty of fun. It’s got a silly looking monster, cheesy transformation scenes, and dumb rock songs. Plus, the running time is barely over an hour long. What more can you ask for in a 50’s horror flick?

AKA: Blood is My Heritage. AKA: Blood of the Demon.

Take one part Karate Kid. Add a dash of Rocky 4. Throw in a splash of Bruce Lee Fights Back from the Grave. Toss in an insane amount of Breakin’ 2: Electric Bugaloo. Add the ingredients in a blender and puree at Ludicrous Speed. And what you get is No Retreat, No Surrender; which happens to be one of…

THE GREATEST MOVIES IN THE HISTORY OF THE HUMAN RACE

Jason (Kurt McKinney) is a hotheaded karate student whose dad (Timothy D. Baker) gets hassled by the Mob who wants him to hand over his dojo. When he says no way Jose, the gangsters get “Ivan, the Russian” (Jean Claude Van Damme) to break his leg. Daddy turns into mental Jell-O and packs up and heads to Seattle to become a wimpy bartender. While Jason gets accustomed to his new surroundings, he befriends a rapping, breakdancing Jheri Curled guy named R.J. (J.W. Fails) who gets bullied by a big fat dude who likes to stand in the middle of the street eating cake. One day Jason tries to join a Seattle dojo but Fat Kid cockblocks him. Later, at Jason’s girlfriend’s birthday party, Fat Kid and his cronies beat him up and make him look like a complete wuss in front of his gal. Jason finally reaches his breaking point when his dad has a meltdown and rips up his Bruce Lee poster. Distraught, Jason goes to Bruce’s grave and asks for his help. Much to Jason’s surprise, Bruce Lee’s ghost (Kim Tai Chong) appears and whips him into fighting shape. In the end, the gangsters try to move in on the Seattle dojo and hold a karate tournament where Ivan kicks everyone’s ass in the ring. Finally Jason hops in the ring and shows the Russian what’s what.

No Retreat, No Surrender is one of The Greatest Movies in the History of the Human Race mostly because it’s a bad movie. I make no bones about it. Much of this movie reeks of useless clichés and idiotic dance sequences. What makes it all work is that the film is a rainbow of awfulness. It runs the gamut of So Bad It’s Good (like the overacting gangster villain who seemingly channels Snidely Whiplash during the final fight), to So Bad It’s Awesome (like the lame banter between R.J. and Jason), to So Bad It’s Genius (the breakdancing scenes), to Hey, You Know What Folks, This Movie Kinda Rocks (the Bruce Lee training sequences), to Wait a Goddamn Minute, This Movie is Da Bomb (the excellent final showdown between Jason and the Russian).

Let’s talk about the bad first. Let’s talk about acting; or lack thereof. Never before has a movie featured performances so wooden and dialogue so stilted that it ends up being kickass in spite of itself. (Although Attack of the Clones comes close.) Kurt McKinney is a bland lead but he is at least proficient enough with his karate skills to make up for that. As the dumbass dad, Timothy D. Baker displays some of the worst acting by an alleged parent on the silver screen. The scenes between him and McKinney play out like a shitty After School Special and all of their dialogue seems phony and forced. But nothing and I mean nothing can prepare you for the hilarious ineptitude of J.W. Fails as R.J. Good God man, this guy says all of his lines in the same upbeat fake jive manner that will drive you bat shit insane. I don’t know what is funnier, seeing him desperately try to breakdance (his stunt dancer is haphazardly edited in) or the scenes where he “raps”. I dare you not to crack up whenever he overenthusiastically says the title. At least Van Damme exudes a sense of menace and essays his villainous role with a lot of authority.

Speaking of Van Damme, his final brawl is quite exciting and is the only legitimate thing that is intentionally good about the whole deal. He kickboxes the Hell out of three competitors before taking on McKinney one on one. The choreography is excellent in this scene (despite a couple of obvious jump cuts) and is a great showcase for JCVD’s skills.

Looking at this scene, I can’t help but note that Van Damme got a raw deal in this flick. I know we’re supposed to root for Kurt and everything but Jean Claude was fighting with a severe disadvantage. I mean he fought not one but THREE guys in the ring, gets bitten on the leg by a fat dude, and is almost hit with a chair by a girl all before going toe to toe with the hero. Also, Kurt was receiving supernatural tutelage from beyond the grave by the greatest martial artist of all time, which ain’t exactly fair if you ask me.

And let’s face it, this Kurt guy is a straight-up wimp. Despite the title, he actually retreats AND surrenders at least FOUR times by my count. Once during his initial run-in with JCVD, then when he squares off against the fat guy and his gang in front of the burger stand, then against the same guys at his girlfriend’s birthday party, and finally when his dad tears up his Bruce Lee posters. Granted, he doesn’t retreat or surrender by the end of the film, so I have to give him a little credit.

Corey (The Transporter) Yuen directs the action solidly enough. He films the dance sequences in a tongue in cheek manner and really gets to strut his stuff during the end match. He also displays a softer side in the scene when the two breakdancers help to reunite Jason and his girlfriend.

In 1986, the year No Retreat, No Surrender was released; Crocodile Dundee was the highest grossing comedy. This flick is a hundred times funnier and should’ve been just as big. Sure, the laughs are all unintended, but to me, an unintended laugh is just as good as an intended one. You know, it’s kinda a shame that No Retreat, No Surrender never won any Oscars. It’s sad to know that this flick will make it’s way on the AFI 100 Best Films List. Heck, I think I’m the only reviewer who has ever given it a positive review (let alone Four Stars). Hopefully, it’s inclusion into The Greatest Movies in the History of the Human Race will inspire readers to seek out this unadulterated camp classic. Do not retreat or surrender an opportunity to check it out.

AKA: Karate Tiger.

When the CEO of an advertising firm dies, Putney Swope (Arnold Johnson), the only African-American board member is put in charge. He quickly fires all the white help and hires a bunch of black militants as advisers and renames the company, Truth and Soul. Swope intends to run the company into the ground and produces some really crazy commercials that feature nudity and cussing. Ironically, his clients end up loving them.

Putney Swope is one of those underground 60’s movies that really needs to be seen during the time of it’s original release to get the intended impact. I’m sure it must’ve really wowed people back then but for me, it felt more than a tad dated. That said, the film still holds up a lot better than a lot of similar movies from that era.

Director Robert (Up the Academy) Downey, Sr. films the flick in black and white and only uses color during Swope’s outrageous commercials. These short ads are easily the best part of the film and deliver the biggest chuckles. (My favorite was the one for the pimple cream.) The problem is that the scenes of Putney and his underlings are scattershot at best and lack the zing of the commercials. While the movie gets off to a promising start, the laughs become increasingly erratic as it goes along.

Putney gets the best line of the movie when he meets “The Arab” (played by Antonio “Huggy Bear” Fargas) and asks, “Who are you supposed to be, Lawrence of Nigeria?”

Okay, so I know you’ve all been wondering where the heck I’ve been for the past week or so.  Truth is I’ve been spending lots of quality time with my brand spanking new baby daughter and kinda forgot about reviewing movies for a bit.  To me, just watching the little faces she makes is like a hundred times cooler than any movie.  (Yes, even Star Wars.)  The other night while she was particularly fussy, I decided to pop on Dolph Lundgren’s new movie, Command Performance.  This thing can be summed up in six words:  Die Hard at a Rock Concert.  For most people out there, Command Performance will be pretty forgettable, but me; I’ll always remember it as the first movie I ever watched as a proud papa. 

Let me start off by saying that I admire Lundgren.  You can tell he really likes making movies.  It doesn’t matter to him that the studios don’t give him much of a budget and he has to shoot his films overseas on a tight schedule.  This guy just keeps his head down and continues to make better-than-mediocre low budget Direct-to-DVD action movies for his loyal fans. 

Command Performance is not quite what I would call “good”, but it’s got a high watchability factor going for it.  While there are better Direct-to-DVD Die Hard rip-offs out there (in fact, Dolph also made the superior Detention, which was Die Hard in a School), Command Performance is exactly what you would expect from the subgenre.  Nothing more, nothing less.  In addition, the film hits all it’s marks competently and moves along at a steady clip. 

Dolph does a great job in front of the camera.  His usual charisma shines through and keeps you watching; even when shit gets extremely derivative and predictable.  I do have a major criticism of his directing style though.  He goes hog wild for the Law and Order type shaky-cam shit and it gets rather annoying after awhile.

If anything, Command Performance delivers on the gore.  First off, there is plenty of arterial spray whenever someone gets their throat slashed.  We also get a gnarly scene where Dolph impales someone on a broken guitar neck.  The piece de resistance though comes when Lundgren shoves a drumstick into a guy’s head and it goes through his chin and comes out of his eyeball.  Great stuff.  Dolph also gave himself a bunch of cheesy/dumb/hey-it-made-me-laugh-because-I’m-seriously-sleep-deprived-from-being-up-all-night-with-a-crying-baby lines like “Dying is easy, Rock n’ Roll is hard!”

Sometimes a sequel comes along that outshines the original. Road Warrior, Bride of Chucky, and Friday the 13^th Part 3-D are all great examples.  Sometimes a sequel comes along that’s just as confusing and convoluted as it’s predecessor.  Such is the case with Day Watch.

This time around, Anton (Konstantin Khabenskiy) is training his girlfriend Sveta (Mariya Poroshina) to be a Night Watcher when they run into his son Yegor (Dima Martynov), who has become a serial killer.  The villain frames Anton for murder and instigates a war between Good and Evil that will bring about the apocalypse.  The only way to stop the end of the world is to find the Chalk of Fate; which gives it’s user the ability to literally rewrite history.

Day Watch starts out fairly well.  The scenes of Anton training Sveta are fun; as is the amusing subplot where Anton’s brain is switched with a sexy female operative.  (This leads up to a near-lesbian scene with Sveta.)  I also dug the cool flashback showing the insane Chinese warlord fucking up Iran in order to get the Chalk of Fate.

Unfortunately, the flick kinda falls apart after the brain-switching thing.  While the first 45 minutes or so are rather enjoyable, director Timur Bekmambetov eventually starts in with a lot of brainless incomprehensibly edited action sequences.  There are a few fun moments sprinkled here and there (like when a chick drives up a wall of a building or when the bad guy gets hit by a bus) but mostly it’s just a bunch of overkill for overkill’s sake.  Wanted showed that Bekmambetov can make a great action movie.  Night Watch and Day Watch both show that he needs a script that actually makes sense to do so.

Sveta gets the best line of the movie when she tells Anton (while he’s inside the chick’s body):  “If you give her a fat ass, she’ll give you a fat lip!”

Medieval knights locked in an ongoing battle.  Witches that perform spells for a price.  Toys that turn into spiders.  Psychics that can track down vampires by drinking pig’s blood.  People that can change into tigers, bears, and owls at will.  A cursed virgin that will bring about the downfall of mankind.  A vortex that threatens to destroy humanity.  The powers of good and evil fighting over a young boy that will decide the fate of the human race.  All of these premises just by themselves could make for a compelling movie.  When all of them are blended together and jam-packed into a bloated, overlong, and meandering mess, it gets on your nerves after awhile.

Basically what we got here is the powers of good protecting the world against the powers of evil.  The good guys are a bunch of psychics and were-tigers who look depressed and hungover all the time.  The bad guys are represented by vampires and ugly Euro-Trash.  Our hero is annoying and gets beat up a lot and generally fucks everything up.  No wonder the ending is such a bummer.

Night Watch was directed by Timur Bekmambetov, the guy who made Wanted.  If you remember the overly caffeinated quick-cutting and hyperactive action scenes from that movie, you may know what to expect.  While Night Watch is visually impressive and has some truly wicked camerawork, Bekmambetov’s idea of storytelling is hopelessly muddled at best and totally schizophrenic at worst.  He does give us one great vampire brawl in an abandoned barbershop though.

I think the thing I liked most about the movie was the subtitles.  Everybody speaks Russian in this flick but the subtitles are not just mere translations.  They actually get involved in the action.  Sometimes they pause for dramatic effect, other times they hide behind objects, and on occasion they will hurtle at the screen when someone screams.  That was really cool.  Then again if the coolest thing about your Medieval knights/witches/psychics/vampires/Ani-Morphs/cursed virgin/ultimate battle against good and evil movie is the subtitles; then you got serious problems.

A sequel, Day Watch followed.