Kate violated the terms of her and Sonny's deal and chose to have her helicopter flown over his property as it was delivering a garden statue. So Sonny did the reasonable, logical thing, and had Jason come over and shoot the cable holding the crate, allowing it to drop through her roof and three floors of her house. In the aftermath, Jason was treated to the knowledge that Kate and Sonny share a past. Kate shared with Sonny the sentimental value of the sculpture which sent him guilt-ridden to Carly asking her to find a replacement.
I recognize that gleam in Carly's eye. She's going to use the incident to get back at Kate for their argument over the kids. Carly is also beginning to see Kate pushed Sonny's buttons. So, with Jax soon heading out of town, I'm sure we will see Carly turning about ten different shades of green.
Ric unsuccessfully threatened to charge Jax as an accessory if he didn't come clean about Jerry. In the meantime, Jerry caused more of his havoc, threatening Skye and Cooper to get what he wanted. He also unsuccessfully executed an attempt in the police lab to switch up DNA samples. The pressure is closing in, and I'm beginning to think the PCPD may actually successfully solve a crime, as unlikely as that may seem.
Armed with his arrest warrant — based solely on the digital recording — Ric, a very busy DA this week, ordered Lucky to pick up Jason. He first refused, saying he couldn't arrest him after he had saved Liz and his baby several times. Ric countered saying it made him the perfect man for the job, because Jason would cooperate with Lucky and come in peacefully. Unaware her husband was about to arrest him, Liz allowed Jason to hold Jake when she ran into him in the coffee shop. Lucky arrived, asked Jason to give the baby back to Liz and began reading him his rights.
Liz looked very upset. Will she be angry enough to come clean with Lucky?
Warning! News and Spoilers Ahead!
Tyler Christopher recently signed a three year contract with the show, which means we will be treated to Nikolas for some time to come.
Sam's determined to have a biological child with Jason, with the help of a surrogate. His incarceration and her past may get in the way.
Lady Jane advises Jerry to leave town, but the way he does it sends Jax to his rescue. (Cue Ingo Rademacher's vacation.)
Luke gets a heads-up from hacker Spinelli that Baldwin is being awarded guardianship of Laura; together they scheme to beat him to intervene. (Cue Geary's vacation.)
Wife, mother, aspiring novelist, and music editor at BC Magazine, Connie Phillips spends most of her time in a fantasy land of her own creating. In reality, she writes about music, television, and the process of writing, when she’s not cheering on her kids at equestrian events. Contact: Phillips.connie@gmail.com
“The Earth’s a garden, and we’re the pest. Well, someone finally called in the exterminator.”
For those unfamiliar, Masters of Horror is a Showtime TV series that consists of thirteen one-hour films per season. Following each picture’s television debut, the made-for-TV movie is released on DVD. Each film is unique in terms of director, star, and subject matter.
In the case of the seventh “episode” of the second season entitled The Screwfly Solution, the director is Joe Dante (Gremlins and The Howling); the topic is the apocalypse via bioterrorism; and, the star is Jason Priestley. Viewers beware: if Screwfly is any indication of the Masters of Horror series, shun these trashy featurettes at all cost.
The Screwfly Solution begins with 1,100 homicides in Jacksonville, Florida; in every case, the victim was female and the murderer male. Typical male sexual urges have mutated into vicious attacks, and this violent rage begins to spread to other cities like an infectious disease. From July to December, the extermination of the female race results in the genocide of humankind.
Out to stop this parasitic mindset is a pair of scientists named Alan (Jason Priestley) and Barney (Elliot Gould). The only known cure is castration, and when Alan returns home thinking that he can suppress his urges, he endangers his wife Anne (Kerry Norton) and daughter Amy (Brenna O’Brien).
With its static screen transitions and unnecessary ending, The Screwfly Solution is executed poorly. The static is reminiscent of White Noise, and the abrupt alien finale is as detrimental and uncalled-for as the spider conclusion in It. Furthermore, with a one-hour running time, it is difficult to decipher whether the production is an attempt at a romance, a scare, a thriller, or a political piece.
Speaking of politics, no other film presses its misogynous tendencies to such a max. Characters are quoted as believing “rag heads hate all women,” ordering “woman, fetch me my slippers,” and calling females names like “stupid bitch(es).” Not to mention, the women in the film are depicted either dancing naked for men or getting stabbed, shot, or having their necks snapped. In Screwfly, women are literally hunted like deer, and in one case, a breast becomes a trophy in the form of a bullet bag. What’s most distasteful is that all of the female killings are justified by the “Spirit of God.”
To correct The Screwfly Solution’s main premise, the dying breed is not the female species, but rather the horror genre itself. By prefacing the insect-inspired title with “Masters of Horror,” Screwfly proves that “masterful” horror is a dwindling species. Trust me, The Screwfly Solution is far from masterful; it’s master crap. It’s as productive as a larva and as tasteful as a maggot. Get out the swatter, and smear this one into the wall.
Brandon Valentine is a film critic and freelance writer residing in Hershey, PA. Aside from possessing the last name “Valentine” and living in “the Sweetest Place on Earth,” Brandon was also born on Valentine’s Day. That’s right, a Valentine born on Valentine’s Day. His “sweet” work can be viewed at Blogcritics, IMDb, and his own site, Valentine on Film.
Whenever my childhood Etch-A-Sketch decided to leave me a horribly cryptic message regarding bleak future events, I would immediately dismiss its crude, illegible warning with a snort, pop another Risperdal, and order my squadron of GI Joe figures to guard my spooky closet door with their insignificant lives. Had I known this seemingly useless time-wasting device could accurately predict the untimely demise of my immature, pot-smoking friends, I would have promptly sold this amazing contraption at the local flea market and used the proceeds to purchase a poorly-dubbed cassette of the B-52's Rock Lobster album. Opportunistic? With bells on, buddy.
After witnessing a similar series of events within directors Brendan Cowles and Shane Kuhn's goofy clown-oriented slasher Drive-Thru, I was left dumbstruck and drooling. Were my freak childhood memories somehow being channeled by a pair of up-and-coming horror filmmakers, or are the satanic powers found lurking deep inside my own Etch-A-Sketch slowly contaminating the entire world? Should I rush home to confront this evil creation armed with only a Zippo lighter and a generic pack of smokes, or should I consult with my ambulance-chasing lawyers about seeking financial retribution from a pair of guys who have raped and pillaged my deep-rooted childhood terrors?
Maybe I'll just pop another Risperdal and take a long nap, instead.
Unless you've accidentally misplaced your own lump of squishy gray matter, you shouldn't need a fortune-telling doodling device to uncover the fact that Drive-Thru is the latest LionsGate release that attempts to snatch a little green from the Velcro wallets of the horror-loving public without providing a high-quality product in exchange. While it never really succeeds at splitting your sides and dumping your steaming innards all over your brand new Disney-colored carpeting, this high-calorie 90-minute excursion into the dreaded horror/comedy universe should provide you and your illiterate friends with plenty of nifty late-night entertainment. As long as you don't expect too much from it, of course.
If Drive-Thru were a delicious all-beef hamburger value meal found only at participating locations, it would probably be listed as the Ho-Hum combo with no onions and extra cheese. Here's what's under the bun: Some axe-wielding nutjob in a pimped-out Horny the Clown outfit is slowly carving his way through the local teen population, starting with a group of white suburban thugs who make the deadly decision to stop at the local Hella Burger for a quick bite to eat. Soon he's moving onto sluts, stoners, and various other high school cliches we've seen way too many times to count. I'm getting gas just thinking about it.
Are these murders completely unrelated, or is there some mysterious underlying connection our heroes don't know about yet? Why is some random seventeen year-old rocker chick receiving psychic messages from the man responsible for these savage slayings? Does all of this nonsense have something to do with the Hella Burger president's dead son, or are these murders just the gory artistic expressions of a madman with a fast food fetish? More importantly, will you really care about anything you see in this movie once its finished inserting its greasy fingers into your easily amused ocular sockets?
Drive-Thru is essentially an off-brand pot of mystery meat constructed from a bevy of tasty genre livestock. The supposed story is supported with rusty plot devices borrowed from Craven's original A Nightmare on Elm Street entry, Cunningham's Friday the 13th franchise, a few loose boards from Halloween's house of horrors, and a several dozen useless one-liners discarded by various filmmakers who know better than to stick these groan-inducing clips and phrases into their actors' willing mouths. To say this flick is completely unoriginal and totally uninspired would be an understatement, a fact which is compounded tenfold when you consider all of the missed opportunities for fast food-related mayhem.
However, despite Cowles and Kuhn's obvious creative deficiencies, Drive-Thru still manages to provide an evening's worth of mildly engaging entertainment. It's stupid enough to operate as your prototypical brainless slasher, incorporating just enough humor to give you the feeling that nobody is taking this mess too seriously. If you still need further proof of the film's light-hearted nature, behold filmmaker Morgan Spurlock's strangely hilarious cameo as a befuddled Hella Burger employee faced with the daunting task of removing unruly teenagers from the restaurant's colorful play area. Still, the fast food motif isn't explored as deeply as its garish DVD artwork suggests, leaving this farcical film fiend craving seconds.
Did I enjoy watching Drive-Thru? You bet. Would I classify it as a good movie? Not on your best friend's baby's momma's life, dear readers. This is just another run-of-the-mill comedic slasher that borrows heavily from the films that influenced its dodgy creators. While the performances are decent, the gore is effective, and the production values are unusually high for this sort of picture, it still doesn't rise above its station as a throwaway slice of fast food entertainment. Furthermore, Drive-Thru never handles the material in a way that separates it from the forty-four other like-minded flicks currently clogging retail arteries as we speak.
And it doesn't even come with a cheap plastic toy.
T. Rigney was specifically designed for the mass consumption of B-grade cinema from around the world. His roughly translated thoughts and feelings can be found lurking suspiciously at The Film Fiend, Fatally Yours, and Film Threat. According to legend, his chaotic, child-like scribblings have cured cancer on fourteen different life-supporting planets.
What an odd movie. I went in thinking there was an interesting concept at work, I was hoping for an interesting movie, but my hopes were kept in check by the cast. Honestly, in my opinion Kevin Costner's filmography is spotty, I have never been a big fan of Demi Moore, and Dane Cook in a thriller? Pretty early in his movie career to be trying his hand at drama, methinks he needs to work on his comedy first.
The bright spot going in had to be William Hurt, who has had a couple of great roles in recent years in A History of Violence and the "Battleground" episode of Nightmares & Dreamscapes. Anyway, I went in with low expectations and I walked out with rather conflicting feelings. On one hand the movie has some serious flaws, but on the other, I found myself being entertained to no end. It was a weird experience.
I am sure all of you have had that experience at one time or another. You go into a movie, you recognize it as being pretty bad, but you find yourself enjoying every moment. Usually, they are the kind of movies that you find on late at night on some random cable station. You watch it and are amazed that you are smiling at it, enjoying every odd minute of it. You marvel at the concept, which may be interesting, watch as scenes whither and die no matter how hard they try. When it ends, you think, "Wow, that was kind of bad, but damn if it wasn't enjoyable." Mr. Brooks is that kind of movie.
The story follows Earl Brooks (Costner), a successful businessman and loving family man. On the surface, Earl seems like a great guy, but this great guy has a dark side that he has successfully hid from his loved ones, and everyone else. You see, Brooks has a voice in his head who loves to kill. The voice, embodied by William Hurt, is named Marshall. He and Earl will go out and kill every once in awhile. However, Earl doesn't want to do it anymore; he even goes to AA meetings to help control himself. Marshall isn't quite ready to give up, and the two head out on one final kill. Things go a bit sideways as Earl is photographed on his latest evening of fun. A man who calls himself Mr. Smith (Dane Cook) approaches Mr. Brooks with an offer. In return for not going to the police, he wants to go with him on his next kill — he wants to get a taste of the blood rush of murdering another human being. An odd request to be sure, but one that seems to work out for our killer of the title.
Now, that sounds like it would be a pretty cool movie on its own, but that is not all that we get. We get the added bonus of a detective (played by Demi Moore) hot on the trail of our killer. Okay, that doesn't sound so bad, but that isn't all. The detective is also going through a nasty divorce and is being pursued herself, by another serial killer. If that isn't enough, Mr. Brooks' daughter, Jane (Danielle Panabaker, who I thought was Amber Tamblyn for the whole movie), is back from college, and she has a secret of her own.
Okay, now I really like the Jekyll and Hyde elements of the story. Costner and Hurt work wonderfully together, Hurt being the bloodthirsty heavy of the relationship, not to mention the brains. Watching them go to work together is a thing of beauty. Hurt goads Costner, Costner tries to resist, repeat. Another good thing about the movie is, believe it or not, Dane Cook. He is not great, and I am still a little surprised at how early he is trying the whole drama thing. Still, his role as the wannabe killer is pretty good, I was convinced by his earnestness.
I like how it plays out — however, that falls under the guilty pleasure type of like. The story goes through so many convenient coincidences and acrobatic moves to make everything work. Everything is made to tie together with a nice little bow, but it felt so manufactured, instead of feeling organic. The other killer is tied into the plot, indirectly, the divorce is tied into the plot. That brings up another point; the world of Mr. Brooks is not unlike the comic book world of a superhero, what with Costner called the Thumbprint Killer and the other guy called Hangman; all we need now is a Super-something to do battle with them.
As for the bad, there are issues with day turning into night, and vice versa, without rhyme or reason, and forget about scene continuity. The very beginning is a little awkward as the opening text indicates that the "hunger has returned to Mr. Brooks." It is inadequate shorthand exposition for the Brooks character. It seems to me that there could be some very interesting exposition for the character and his "head" person, far and beyond what is offered here.
Then there is pretty much every scene with Demi Moore. Each one grinds the story to a halt. I was amazed at how bad she was in this film, it was like she wasn't even trying. Pacing is also an issue, partially due to Moore's scenes, but also due to the Costner/Hurt interactions. Now they worked great together, but the way they play out, as if the other characters are unaware of these conversations, the method that is used is essentially no method at all, therefore the pacing just gets all out of whack. Finally, there is the ending. No, I won't give it away, I just wish it had the courage of its convictions and didn't bail out at the last moment — that would have been great.
As unlikely as it is that I was actually entertained by this, I was, yet I also could not help but think that this could have been so much better. The whole voice/person in the head thing was great. I would have loved a deeper examination of how that came to be, where he came from, what led him to give birth to this monstrosity. There are also threads that hint at bigger things in his family that would have been great psychological horror/thriller fodder. If only they had cut down Demi Moore's role, not eliminate the detective on the prowl, but all of this other killer and divorce stuff, it was unnecessary and forced the screenplay through hoops to make everything fit.
Bottom line. It is a seriously flawed thriller that is not a good movie, but still entertained me to no end. It is a strange feeling, but that is how it is. The critic in me wants to trash it and give it a poor rating, but the movie fan in me wants to give it a good rating. I am reminded of Roger Ebert's review of the awful Basic Instinct 2:
I cannot recommend the movie, but … why the hell can't I? Just because it's godawful? What kind of reason is that for staying away from a movie? Godawful and boring, that would be a reason.
So, here is my compromised rating:
Mildly Recommended.
Christopher Beaumont spends much of his time writing about entertainment when he isn’t sitting in a movie theater. He is known around the office as the “Movie Guy” and is always ready to talk about his favorite form of entertainment and offer up recommendations. Interests include science fiction, horror, and metal music. His writings can be found at Draven99’s Musings, as well as Film School Rejects.
A good biography will make you regret never meeting the subject. A great biography will make you fall in love. This documentary about author Hubert Selby Jr. falls into the latter category. Cubby, as he called himself, was a warm man who transcended a great deal of pain to create beautiful and lasting art.
This compelling film is a well-edited mix of interviews with the author and his friends and associates, historical background, and feature film clips. It is narrated by Robert Downey Jr. and features interviews with artists such as poet Amiri Baraka, writer/performers Henry Rollins and Lou Reed, authors Richard Price and Jerry Stahl, actors Jared Leto and Ellen Burstyn, directors Matt Polish, Darren Aronofsky, and Jem Cohen, literary critic Michael Silverblatt, and writer/publisher Gilbert Sorrentino.
The story of Cubby's life is linear and well-told. Period stock photography is used, as well as actual photos of the author and his family. An only child who grew up in Brooklyn, Cubby dropped out of school in the eighth grade and joined the Merchant Marine. There, he developed alcoholism and contracted tuberculosis. He spent the next several years of his life in the TB ward, systematically losing pieces of his lungs and rib cage, and the rest of his life battling lung problems. He began writing because he didn't have training to do anything else. His first novel, Last Exit to Brooklyn, was a critical success and an international bestseller. The proceeds from that book, however, went into his arm: in his early 30s, his alcoholism had flowered into heroin addiction, and he didn't become clean until he turned 40.
Cubby's earlier books reflect the ravages and pain of addiction, but his later ones the hope of recovery. His life and art demonstrate that the difficult experiences of life can be transmuted into beauty. Although many people took offense at his depictions of addiction, the underlying theme of his work is the destruction "wreaked by the American dream" and, in later books and also in his life, that love can help us transcend pain and darkness. In fact, several interviewees, as well as the author himself, spoke of the necessity to say "yes" to life, whatever it is that life offers.
Cubby was also known for his unique style of writing, as evidenced by the slash in this movie's title. He wrote in a colorful vernacular, shocking some readers. He also felt that the author was taking dictation, that "…the responsibility of the artist is to transcend the human ego." Cubby was, and is, more popular in Europe than in his own United States.
The film itself is well-crafted and was an Official Selection in the Deauville Film Festival 2005. It was co-directed by Michael W. Dean, another entry into Dean's body of work that inspires artists to, like Hubert Selby Jr., step outside the commercial mainstream, and create strong and honest art.
Georgette Nicolaides is a writer, violinist, and visual artist. She tapes hardcore and metal bands for Underground Video Television. She also serves on the board of Syracuse’s Alternative Movies and Events, sponsor of such high weirdness as visits from Crispin Glover, Michael Berryman, and Bruce Campbell, and the yearly B-Movie Film Festival. She is currently pondering her next tattoo.
The Pang Brothers. I'm thinking Danny and Oxide should change their names to Hit and Miss. Why, you ask? Because that is the perfect description of their work. Best known for their Eye trilogy, the Brothers have been pumping out ghost stories with mixed results for the better part of the last ten years. While The Eye was a great film and even The Eye 2 served its purpose, it was the laughably bad The Eye 10 that nearly made me write the duo off completely.
Here in the States J-Horror has just about run its course. Even Sirand, our resident foreign freak, is fed up with the twitchy chicks with long black hair. What was once a breath of fresh air from the Far East has now become soured by the stench of cliché. So what's a pair of filmmakers looking to cash in on a passing craze to do? Simple! Head to America and make their latest spook-fest specifically for Western audiences. Enter The Messengers. A film that is — you guessed it — hit and miss.
Sixteen-year-old Jess (Kristen Stewart) is a bit of a problem child. After a couple of rough years in Chi-town, her family packs up and heads to North Dakota to become — hold on to your asses — sunflower farmers(!). Well, I guess someone's gotta do it, right?
Upon reaching their new dwelling place, Jess discovers that they are not alone. Living with her parents and her little brother are some pretty nasty spirits and a murder of crows. Of course her folks assume that she's just acting out again so they dismiss her rantings as a cry for attention. Luckily for Jess, her brother can see the ghosties too, but the poor kid can't speak so she can't even get her story corroborated. Hell, at least she knows she's not crazy. Things quickly get out of hand, and before you know it, the entire family is taking on the evil in the home as one unit while screaming their heads off on the road to a twist ending, which, I must admit, I didn't see coming.
All in all, aside from some strange plot choices (read: sunflower farming(!) being the profession of choice) The Messengers does just fine in the story department. More importantly the ghosts do their jobs well enough when it comes to delivering the creeps. There were more than a couple of "that's messed-up" moments that had me grinning with goosebumps.
So where did this little film go wrong aside from the ghosts being damned near completely absent during the movie's finale? The answer is simple. With the influx of Asian horror hitting these shores at a truly fast and furious pace, we've seen all these gags before. The floating spectres, the twitching bodies, the stuttering crawling type movements, the discolored clutching hands reaching out to hold their victims at bay — talk about déjà vu. Still, even with all these familiarities, The Messengers does have a few inspired moments. At least this time no one was farting to keep away the spirits (a less than inspired scene from The Eye 10). Thanks for leaving that gag out, Pangs! Go you!
On the supplemental side of the sunflower farm(!), we have a pretty standard package. All that's here is a cast and crew commentary that, just like the film itself, feels very hit or… I'm not gonna say it a third time. You know what I mean. From there we have a series of seven featurettes entitled Examining The Messengers that doles out the standard making-of stuff we've all come to expect. Again, nothing to write home about.
Maybe it's time to just hang up the old long-haired black wig. We're ready for and need something new. Something that can spark the imagination and make the mind's floorboards creak with the type of dread that we crave in a good ghost story.
Sorry, guys, but this is just a case of the message getting here too damned late.
Special Features
Cast and crew commentary
Examining The Messengers seven-part behind-the-scenes featurette(s)
Film
2 1/2 out of 5
Special Features 2 1/2 out of 5
Dread Central is the premier website for breaking news, original content and active community in the world of horror, covering movies, DVDs, games, collectibles, live events and music. If it’s got something to do with the dark and horrific, you’ll find it on Dread Central.
Back in March, I was a panelist on a Writers Guild Foundation forum about publicity — specifically, how film and television writers should approach promoting themselves and their work through the media. As I wrote at the time, it seemed to go pretty well.
This afternoon, I was ego-Googling and discovered that clips from the seminar are available on YouTube:
The audio’s not terrific, and so you’ll probably need to turn your speakers up. This is the main section with me; there are two otherparts focusing on other panelists, which you can find if you click through to the main YouTube site.
Chris Day, the head of publicity for UTA, references a memo I wrote around the time of Big Fish. You can find a .pdf of that here.
Zzzz … zzzz … zzzz … Huh?! What's that?! There's a Hannibal Lecter movie going on? THE HELL YOU SAY! I haven't seen hide nor hair of Anthony Hopkins and I've been sitting here watching … well okay, napping, for over two hours! Surely someone didn't make a Hannibal film without him! How could they?
Well I'll be.
Let's face it, folks — we live in a world in which everything is over-explained. There's just no mystery anymore. We have to know everything. At least that was Thomas Harris' take when he wrote the novel on which this film is based. Yep, our good Dr. Lecter's early years have been dissected, analyzed, and finally put to celluloid. So does it work? In a word — no.
Hannibal Rising has all of the stunning beauty of the other films in this franchise; yet, even that cannot save it from its own mediocrity. Let's start at the beginning …
After his parents are killed, young Hannibal and his sister, Mischa, are held prisoner by a roving pack of would-be Nazis. Things get desperate for the men and their captives. So desperate in fact, that the group has to resort to cannibalism as a means to stay alive. Of course this not only develops Hannibal's taste for flesh but also drives him a bit mad. Fast forward a few years. Hannibal (played with much scenery chewing goodness by Gaspard Ulliel) sets out on his own to find the men who held him and his sister hostage way back when. What follows is your standard revenge tale which — dare I say it — lacks any real bite.
Part of the magic behind the character we all know and love was Hopkins' deliciously ghoulish portrayal. Ulliel isn't bad for what he has to work with, but Sir Anthony he is not. Bottom line — this leaves a huge void not only in the film but within the hearts of fans that cannot be filled.
Now let's talk about the word. You see it there in those enticing red letters. Unrated. Could there have been a bit more meat to pick at that the MPAA wisely shielded us from? Maybe the presence of a little more grue could make this predominantly boring and flaccid piece of unnecessary fiction go down a bit easier. Guess what? We get nothing. Not a single extra drop of blood. Just a few more minutes of exposition. Thanks. Appreciate that. Why not just include a coupon for sleeping pills as a DVD extra?
Speaking of which …
Don't expect too much from the supplemental material. We get a feature commentary with director Peter Webber and producer Martha De Laurentiis that amounts to little more than pretentious back-patting. Seven minutes of deleted scenes with optional ass-kissing commentary. A seven-minute featurette hosted by production designer Allan Starski (who is nothing without Hutch) entitled Designing Horror and Elegance (can't you just smell the snobbery?). And then things are capped off with a sixteen-minute featurette that at least sounds promising, Hannibal Lecter: The Origin of Evil. The operative word there being sounds. Instead of a concise look at the fava bean-eating madman, we just get a bit more musing by the culprits behind this snooze-fest.
Yay.
In closing … aw, screw it. I'm going back to sleep. Someone wake me when Hopkins returns from making shitty courtroom thrillers with a whole new recipe for evil.
Special Features
Commentary with director Peter Webber and producer Martha De Laurentiis
Deleted scenes with optional commentary
Designing Horror and Elegance featurette
Hannibal Lecter: The Origin of Evil featurette
Trailers
Film
2 1/2 out of 5
Special Features 2 1/2 out of 5
Dread Central is the premier website for breaking news, original content and active community in the world of horror, covering movies, DVDs, games, collectibles, live events and music. If it’s got something to do with the dark and horrific, you’ll find it on Dread Central.
John Wayne capitalised on the success of Stagecoach in the '40s, making a string of formulaic films that, while unexceptional, cemented him as a box office draw. Most featured Wayne as one corner of a love triangle, vying with the likes of Walter Pidgeon, Ray Milland, and Randolph Scott (for Claire Trevor, Paulette Goddard, and Marlene Dietrich respectively).
Such roles ill suited him and it wasn’t until the end of the decade that he got the chance to show what he was really capable of, starring in four classics in the space of two years.
Fort Apache (1948)
The first film in John Ford’s famous cavalry trilogy saw Wayne in a secondary role with Henry Fonda playing Lt. Col. Owen Thursday, the film's central character. The story was inspired by the massacre at the Little Big Horn with Thursday based on George Armstrong Custer.
Fonda is terrific as the by-the-book officer who’s unwilling to take advice from those who have more experience in dealing with Indians. We’re used to seeing Fonda as the good guy, although Sergio Leone famously cast him against type as the villain in Once Upon a Time in the West. Here though he’s neither hero nor villain, just a man, one who lets his ego cloud his judgment at the cost of his men’s lives.
As the seasoned Captain Kirby York, Wayne is the antithesis of Thursday. A true professional soldier, he finds himself forced to follow orders he knows are wrong. It’s a faultless performance but one that is overshadowed by Fonda, just as York in the film is overshadowed by Thursday.
Many of John Ford’s "repertory company" make appearances, with Ward Bond as the fort’s Sergeant Major particularly outstanding. Comic relief is provided by Victor McLaglen as Sergeant Festus Mulcahy and it’s the sort of role he filled so well in Ford’s films of the period.
The love interest is provided by Shirley Temple and John Agar and while their story adds nothing to the film (and could easily have been cut out) it certainly doesn’t spoil things.
Apart from Fonda’s performance, the film's greatest achievement is the cinematography by Archie Stout. Some years ago I was lucky enough to see Fort Apache at a cinema screening and until you’ve seen the epic vistas of monument valley on the big screen you haven’t truly seen the film; you get a sense of the immensity of it that is lost on television.
Just as he did with Stagecoach, Ford created the perfect balance of character and spectacle and in so doing made a film that is as involving today as it ever was.
Red River (1948)
An epic western that gave Wayne a chance to stretch himself as an actor, Red River tells the story of a cattle drive from Texas to Kansas. Wayne is Thomas Dunson, a cattle baron who faces ruin unless he can make the cross-country journey to get his cattle to market. Along for the ride are his adopted son Matt Garth (Montgomery Clift) and long-time friend 'Groot' Nadine (Walter Brennan) and an assortment of hired hands, including notorious gunman Cherry Valance (John Ireland).
Wayne starts the film playing his real age, as Dunson picks the land on which he’ll build his ranch and takes in Garth, the only survivor of a wagon train massacre. We then jump forward fourteen years with Dunson making preparations for the cattle drive. Duke was so convincing as the aging rancher that John Ford allegedly remarked "I never knew the big son of a bitch could act.” There is much more to Dunson than just his age though, and Wayne conveys the man’s single-minded obsession so well it’s almost scary. It foreshadowed the equally obsessive Ethan Edwards in The Searchers, with the two characters having more of an edge than any of the actor's other roles.
Wayne first worked with Walter Brennan in two of the quickie westerns he made in the '30s and the pair had a great on-screen chemistry. It’s easy to write off 'Groot' Nadine as mere comic relief but such would be a disservice to Brennan. Yes, he provides the film with some light relief but he’s also the middleman caught between the tyrannical Dunson and Garth.
Of the three leads, it’s Clift who lets the side down, not through lack of ability but simply from miscasting. My Dad was no fan of Clift as an actor and consequently Red River was not one of his favourite Wayne films and growing up I think I inherited some of his prejudices but it’s something I’ve striven to conquer in later years.
Yet a recent reviewing of the film still left me unconvinced by Clift; he lacks the physical presence to stand alongside Wayne. He’s so small in fact that had he been a steer, Dunson would doubtless have taken him behind the barn and shot him. Maybe it’s because Wayne’s character is such a strong presence, both physically and mentally, that it’s hard to accept Garth standing against him. I’m always left wondering if Dunson gets shot prior to the final fistfight with Garth because Hawks realised that an audience wouldn’t accept Clift putting up much of a fight against Wayne (even wounded it’s a stretch).
The film's weakest performance though comes from Joanne Dru as a love interest for Garth that the story really doesn’t need. Until watching Dru’s performance I’d always assumed that getting shot by an arrow would be painful, so it came as a surprise to discover that one's reaction should be the equivalent of stubbing one's toe. The rest of her performance is equally emotionless but thankfully fairly brief.
Howard Hawks was a great director but some of his casting decisions are questionable. I’ve already mentioned Clift and there’s Ricky Nelson as a gunfighter in Rio Bravo. Equally outlandish was his original choice for the part of Cherry Valance — Cary Grant. Thankfully Grant turned him down, probably realising he was ill-suited to the role, and instead it went to John Ireland. The part was cut down from what was offered to Grant but Ireland still manages to make something of it. Valance isn’t a bad guy although there is certainly a sinister side to him and Ireland makes him likeable enough but also someone you don’t trust and wouldn’t want to turn your back on.
The film loses momentum during its final half hour with Wayne off-screen for much of it, his presence felt rather than seen as he hunts down Garth and company after they take the herd and head down the Chisholm Trail to Abilene. When he catches them it’s something of an anticlimax with everything reconciled after the previously mentioned bout of fisticuffs with Clift and a stiff talking to from Joanne Dru.
For the most part though this is a magnificent film and it allowed Wayne to create one of the best and most complex characters ever seen in a western.
She Wore a Yellow Ribbon (1949)
Captain Nathan Brittles (Wayne) is just days away from retirement but in that time he must do his best to stop an all-out war with the Indians not to mention ensure that young officers Flint Cohill (John Agar) and Ross Penell (Harry Carey Jr.) are ready to assume command when he steps down.
It’s Brittles' interaction with the other occupants of the cavalry fort that give the film its heart. Having fun at the expense of Cohill and Penell, both of whom are infatuated with Joanne Dru’s Olivia Dandridge, or broader comic moments with Sergeant Quincannon (Victor McLaglen) are some of the more obvious ones but there are smaller touches as well, like the gentle pat on the head he gives Mildred Natwick after she helps the doctor save a wounded trooper's life.
The film focuses a little too much on the love triangle with Dru’s spoilt brat hard to like and Carey and Agar both unexceptional. It’s Ben Johnson who makes the biggest impression in only his second major role (his first was in Mighty Joe Young the same year). He plays Sergeant Tyree and, as well as some magnificent riding, he gets to do some real acting. The death scene of a fellow ex-confederate soldier is a particularly poignant moment and for such an inexperienced actor he does a remarkable job.
One of the most striking elements of the film is its look. Winton C. Hoch’s cinematography is as beautiful as any painting of the west. It captures the spirit of the film perfectly; this is the west of myth, a romantic vision that only existed in movies. It’s Ford’s love letter to the US Cavalry.
When I was a kid watching westerns with my dad this was always my least favourite of Ford’s cavalry trilogy; it seemed overly sentimental and lacking the action of Fort Apache or Rio Grande and what kid wants to see John Wayne playing an old fart? Yet it’s a film that I’ve come to love as I’ve grown older; in fact the closer I get to being an “old fart” the more it seems to move me. Yes, it is overly sentimental but so what? It’s also a beautiful piece of filmmaking, visually stunning, and featuring a majestic performance from Wayne that ranks as his best of the '40s and one of his best ever.
The Sands of Iwo Jima (1949)
Most of Wayne’s war movies were flag waiving gung-ho affairs and there’s certainly an element of that here but it’s tempered by a more realistic depiction of combat. Characters we’ve come to know and like are killed with brutal suddenness and not from an act of derring-do, but merely because they failed to keep their heads down. It’s the film's focus on survival as much as heroics that sets it apart.
Telling the story of Sergeant Stryker and the squad of recruits he trains and takes into combat, the film culminates with the famous battle for Iwo Jima (seen recently in Clint Eastwood’s Flags of Our Fathers and Letters from Iwo Jima). The film may lack the pyrotechnics of modern war films, but for the period it does a fine job of recreating the beach landing. Many of Wayne’s war films relied on stock footage for their action sequences and there is some used here but there isn’t the over-reliance on them that mars many of the other films.
As the tough-as-nails sergeant, Wayne is in fine form, barking out orders and making the recruits jump. Yet there is more to him than that; he's bitter at his wife for leaving him and taking his son with her, seeking solace in a bottle whenever the squad are granted leave. He's not heartless though; there's a touching scene with a mother and child that leads to him laying his demons to rest. And then there’s the dance scene where he teaches one of the squad how to use his bayonet by dancing a jig with him; it’s the films lightest moment by far.
He gets great support from Forrest Tucker as the squad’s troublemaker and Wally Cassell as the obligatory schemer. John Agar is on hand as well and this marked the third Wayne classic he’d appeared in. The film’s classic status has little to do with Agar though; in fact, as with Fort Apache and She Wore a Yellow Ribbon, it would be fair to say the films are great in spite of his presence and certainly not because of it. Once again the film is burdened with a love interest for the actor, with his marriage and impending fatherhood used to mirror the failed relationship of Wayne’s Stryker. Unfortunately it doesn’t really work, with Agar lacking the range as an actor to pull it off. It’s little surprise that Agar descended to B-movie hell and films like The Brain from Planet Arous (1957) within a few years.
Wayne’s performance is the glue that holds the film together and despite some clichéd characters (and Agar), the film stands as one of the best war films of the period. If you only watch one John Wayne war movie, this should be it.
Ian Woolstencroft was brought up on a diet of John Wayne movies and Marvel Comics and still has a passion for both. Now as a blogcritic he finally understands what Spider-Man’s Uncle Ben meant when he said ‘With great power comes great responsibility.’
Robert T. Ironside was the Chief of Detectives for the San Francisco Police Department until a sniper’s bullet paralyzed the lower half of his body. Though he lost the use of his legs, his mind remained as strong and sharp as ever, which combined with his dogged determination allowed him to stay on the force as a special department consultant. He lived at the police station and used a modified police van to get around town. He was assisted by Sgt. Ed Brown, Officer Eve Whitfield, and on a more personal level by ex-con Mark Sanger, whose two incarcerations Ironside was involved.
The pilot, created by Colin Young, aired as an NBC television movie in March 1966. The series ran from September 14, 1967 to January 16, 1975. Young served as executive producer for the first five episodes and was replaced by Frank Price. A few scenes of the pilot are cut at an extremely rapid pace, causing unintentional humor. Thankfully, that editing style doesn’t transfer to the series. Quincy Jones created the theme song and music for some of the episodes.
When we first meet Ironside, he is man’s man. He drinks bourbon, eats chili, and talks tough, using “flaming” to get around the censors. His drinking and swearing lose their prominence over the season. Ironside provides a lot of the story’s exposition to the viewers as he solves the crimes from his wheelchair, which limited the plot’s action.
Raymond Burr played Ironside after a successful eight seasons as Perry Mason from the show of the same name that ran on CBS from 1957-66. The shows were slightly similar; Mason solves mysteries in a courtroom and Ironside solves mysteries on the streets. Both were excellent at their jobs and almost always prevailed. These factors may have helped viewers accept Burr’s transition, which has always been a notorious one as many actors have failed to have lightening strike twice.
One of the more enjoyable aspects in watching old television dramas is that you’ll never know who is going to show up. Over this first season, some of the more recognizable talent and future television stars are Tiny Tim, Jack Lord, John Saxon, Bruce Lee, Robert Carradine, Norman Fell, Robert Reed, Edward Asner, and Susan St James, appearing as two different characters only a couple of months apart.
Unfortunately, as with many of the Universal Television DVD releases, there are no extras. For those that want to see the series in the order the episodes were produced rather than aired, which will make more sense for those who notice hair and character development, the list is as follows:
Ironside Pilot Leaf In The Forrest Eat, Drink, And Be Buried The Monster Of Comus Towers Something For Nothing Tagged For Murder Message From Beyond Dead Man's Tale The Man Who Believed An Inside Job The Taker Let My Brother Go Light At The End Of The Journey A Very Cool Hot Car The Past Is Prologue Girl In The Night The Fourteenth Runner Force Of Arms Memory Of An Ice Cream Stick To Kill A Cop The Lonely Hostage The Challenge All In A Day's Work Barbara Who Perfect Crime Officer Bobby Trip To Hashbury Due Process Of The Law Return Of The Hero
This writer is a member of The Masked Movie Snobs, a collective that fights a never-ending battle against bad entertainment. El Bicho is an active contributing editor for BC Magazine.
I am sure all of you have had that experience at one time or another. You go into a movie, you recognize it as being pretty bad, but you find yourself enjoying every moment. Usually, they are the kind of movies that you find on late at night on some random cable station. You watch it and are amazed that you are smiling at it, enjoying every odd minute of it. You marvel at the concept, which may be interesting, watch as scenes whither and die no matter how hard they try. When it ends, you think, "Wow, that was kind of bad, but damn if it wasn't enjoyable." Mr. Brooks is that kind of movie.
Now, that sounds like it would be a pretty cool movie on its own, but that is not all that we get. We get the added bonus of a detective (played by Demi Moore) hot on the trail of our killer. Okay, that doesn't sound so bad, but that isn't all. The detective is also going through a nasty divorce and is being pursued herself, by another serial killer. If that isn't enough, Mr. Brooks' daughter, Jane (Danielle Panabaker, who I thought was Amber Tamblyn for the whole movie), is back from college, and she has a secret of her own.
I like how it plays out — however, that falls under the guilty pleasure type of like. The story goes through so many convenient coincidences and acrobatic moves to make everything work. Everything is made to tie together with a nice little bow, but it felt so manufactured, instead of feeling organic. The other killer is tied into the plot, indirectly, the divorce is tied into the plot. That brings up another point; the world of Mr. Brooks is not unlike the comic book world of a superhero, what with Costner called the Thumbprint Killer and the other guy called Hangman; all we need now is a Super-something to do battle with them.
As for the bad, there are issues with day turning into night, and vice versa, without rhyme or reason, and forget about scene continuity. The very beginning is a little awkward as the opening text indicates that the "hunger has returned to Mr. Brooks." It is inadequate shorthand exposition for the Brooks character. It seems to me that there could be some very interesting exposition for the character and his "head" person, far and beyond what is offered here. 
Christopher Beaumont spends much of his time writing about entertainment when he isn’t sitting in a movie theater. He is known around the office as the “Movie Guy” and is always ready to talk about his favorite form of entertainment and offer up recommendations. Interests include science fiction, horror, and metal music. His writings can be found at 
Fonda is terrific as the by-the-book officer who’s unwilling to take advice from those who have more experience in dealing with Indians. We’re used to seeing Fonda as the good guy, although Sergio Leone famously cast him against type as the villain in Once Upon a Time in the West. Here though he’s neither hero nor villain, just a man, one who lets his ego cloud his judgment at the cost of his men’s lives. 
Wayne first worked with Walter Brennan in two of the quickie westerns he made in the '30s and the pair had a great on-screen chemistry. It’s easy to write off 'Groot' Nadine as mere comic relief but such would be a disservice to Brennan. Yes, he provides the film with some light relief but he’s also the middleman caught between the tyrannical Dunson and Garth. 
It’s Brittles' interaction with the other occupants of the cavalry fort that give the film its heart. Having fun at the expense of Cohill and Penell, both of whom are infatuated with Joanne Dru’s Olivia Dandridge, or broader comic moments with Sergeant Quincannon (Victor McLaglen) are some of the more obvious ones but there are smaller touches as well, like the gentle pat on the head he gives Mildred Natwick after she helps the doctor save a wounded trooper's life. 
Telling the story of Sergeant Stryker and the squad of recruits he trains and takes into combat, the film culminates with the famous battle for Iwo Jima (seen recently in Clint Eastwood’s Flags of Our Fathers and Letters from Iwo Jima). The film may lack the pyrotechnics of modern war films, but for the period it does a fine job of recreating the beach landing. Many of Wayne’s war films relied on stock footage for their action sequences and there is some used here but there isn’t the over-reliance on them that mars many of the other films. 
