Mudhoney

Directed by Russ Meyer.

1962. Not Rated, 92 minutes.

Cast:

Hal Hopper

Antoinette Cristiani

John Furlong

Frank Bolger

Lorna Maitland

Rena Horten

Princess Livingston

Sam Hanna

Stuart Lancaster

Nick Wolcuff

Lee Ballard

Often, a movie is only as good as its villain. Mudhoney has a very good villain. His name is Sidney (Hopper). He’s a mean drunk that gets into fights at the local whorehouse whenever they refuse to give him freebies. After all, he is a loyal customer. Eventually, he staggers home, smacks around his wife, Hannah (Cristiani), and even rapes her. Against her father’s wishes, she stays with him, clinging to memories from when he was a better man. Sidney, on the other hand, is only hanging around because he, through Hannah, will inherit the farm they live on once his sickly father-in-law, Lute (Lancaster), kicks the bucket. He intends to sell it for all he can as soon as the old man’s body goes cold.

Since Sidney is no help with the upkeep, Hannah and her dad hire Calif (Furlong) as a live-in farmhand. Lute doesn’t want to hire him, mostly because of possible friction with Sidney. However, he likes Calif even though he’s picked up on the fact that the young man is fresh out of prison. It also becomes clear pretty quickly that Calif and Hannah have the hots for one another. They both respect her vows, but Sidney senses their obvious attraction. He takes every opportunity to antagonize Calif and remind him that Hanna is his woman.

Knowing this is a Russ Meyer film, I was ill-prepared for what I saw. I thought I was going to see a campy exploitation flick with outlandish scenes played for laughs and filled with large-breasted women badly reading sexually suggestive dialogue. That’s the director’s M.O. as I’ve encountered it. Instead, I saw a thoughtful, solidly directed morality tale that may have been ahead of its time. In other words, this is a genuinely intriguing movie.

I have to be completely honest, though. Mudhoney does have plenty of the elements I expected to get. Almost all of them involve the whorehouse, run by Maggie Marie (Livingston). Her only two workers are her daughters Clara Belle (Maitland), who talks a lot and Eula (Horten), who is ridiculously gorgeous but literally can’t talk at all. They don’t really add anything to the story. Their main function is to kick Sidney out when he gets too rowdy, provide us with a physical embodiment of his evil side and give us gratuitous nudity. Princess Livingston’s performance as Maggie Marie is akin to chalk screeching across a blackboard. Youngsters, if you’ve never experienced this youtube it, or something, with the sound up. It’s something that can’t (yet) be replicated on a dry-erase or smartboard. Aside from her, the acting as a whole leaves something to be desired. The dialogue is hammy at times, always lacking subtlety.

Flaws aside, perhaps even because of them, Meyer has crafted an entertaining, slyly poignant film. I’m certainly not suggesting this is among the era’s great movies. However, I will say it’s a step above the B-movie madness much of his canon gives us. He establishes characters we can root for and against. While each is merely a type and not a fully realized being there is some depth to our main players, some gravity to their situations. Whether by accident of him being prolific or somehow on purpose, Meyer has crafted a pretty solid flick.

The Man with the Iron Fists

Directed by RZA.

2012. Rated R, 95 minutes.

Cast:

RZA

Russell Crowe

Lucy Liu

Rick Yune

Jamie Chung

Dave Bautista

Cung Le

Byron Mann

Daniel Wu

Zhu Zhu

Pam Grier

Gordon Liu

Andrew Ng

Zen Yi (Yune) is away getting married when he gets word that his father has been killed. Right away, he decides to head home to Jungle Village and exact his revenge against the Lion clan. Ah yes, the most tried and true plot of martial arts flicks. Englishman Jack Knife (Crowe) is in the area in hopes of finding gold. All of the warring clans get their rather heinous weapons from the local blacksmith known only as...um…Blacksmith (RZA). Okay, fine. Whether it’s time for lovin’ or fightin’ everyone congregates at the local house of ill repute run by Madam Blossom (Liu). Bad narration, cheesy dialogue and gory martial arts goodness ensues.

If you know anything about the brains behind this operation, it makes perfect sense for this movie to turn out precisely as it does. The Man with the Iron Fists formed in the mind of its writer and director the RZA (pronounced Riz-uh for the uninitiated). He’s also one of the people most responsible for giving us one of the greatest groups in hip hop history, The Wu-Tang Clan. They built a mythology surrounding themselves in which 70s and 80s martial arts movies play a huge role influencing both the music they created and philosophies they espoused. This movie is nothing short of an unabashed homage to those films. Though RZA struggles in his acting role, as director he gives us a visual treat chock full of Shaw Brothers inspired madness.

Another major influence is the work of producer Quentin Tarantino’s Kill Bill, for which the RZA provided the score along with QT pals Robert Rodriguez and Eli Roth. As a result “…Iron Fists” achieves a look and tongue-in-cheek feel of movies by all three. It lacks the depth and quality of their work but its apparent reverence for the genre that inspired it at least puts it in the same vein. Roth was even brought in as a co-writer on the screenplay. He’s been credited mostly with chopping the movie down from a four hour, two part behemoth down to its fighting weight of just over 90 minutes. Thank goodness.

Russell Crowe and Lucy Liu seem to be having great fun hamming it up. Crowe does everything except twirl his moustache between his index finger and thumb. Meanwhile, Liu revisits her Kill Bill days. Big, bad wrestler Bautista effectively stomps around the set knocking over things and people alike while grunting his lines. His character is heavily influenced by both Toad from the genre classic Five Deadly Venoms and Colossal of the X-Men. This is a perfect blend of old school kung fu flick and comic book sensibilities. This lends authenticity to the hokeyness that is Iron Fists. It would have been perfectly at home in either of the two places where the RZA saw most of those martial arts pictures during his formative years, either in a grindhouse theater on Manhattan’s 42nd Street or at 3 o’clock every Saturday afternoon on Channel 5 (WNEW, back then). At least, that’s where me and all my friends saw them. The plots were always simple, the acting and dialogue was almost always bad and the fighting was always exhilarating.

If you go into …Iron Fists expecting anything other than a zany kung fu flick you’ll be sorely disappointed. A sharply written plot and Oscar-worthy performances are not found her. To be honest, don’t even expect it all to make sense within its own context. Things get convoluted, at times. All of these together normally add up to a very bad movie. However, the blood splattering action makes it a package just too cheesy to resist. If you’re like me, a heavy nostalgia takes over. Before you know it, you’re having a grand time watching a rotten movie. That’s right, it’s so bad it’s awesome!

MY SCORE: -10/10

Ghost Rider: Spirit of Vengeance

Directed by Mark Neveldine and Brian Taylor.

2012. Rate PG-13, 95 minutes.

Cast:

Nicolas Cage

Violante Placido

Idris Elba

Ciarán Hinds

Johnny Whitworth

Fergus Riordan

Christopher Lambert

Anthony Head

Like a lot of single moms, Nadya (Placido) is having major trouble with her baby daddy. Unlike those other women, despite whatever they say, her baby daddy really is the Devil, or Roarke (Hinds), as he likes to be called. He suddenly wants custody of their son Danny (Riordan), but doesn’t trust the courts will support him (my speculation). He sends the mercenary Carrigan (Whitworth) and his goons after her. French wino priest Moreau (Elba) heard how it’s going down and wants to help out. Unsure whether the grubby looking clergyman is really a good guy, she shoots at him and the actual bad guys alike. This leads to the coolest looking scene in the movie about two minutes in. Figuring he’s in over his head, Moreau then enlists the help of Johnny Blaze AKA the Ghost Rider (Cage) to bring mom and the boy safely back to the local monastery. Blaze only agrees because the priest promises that once the task is done, he’ll rid him of the curse of the Rider.

The first Ghost Rider movie is definitely an “also ran” in the comic book flick genre. It was panned by critics and audiences were lukewarm to it. Even its biggest supporters were merely saying “It’s not that bad.” Still, it made enough money that someone felt a sequel was warranted. So here we are watching Nicolas Cage go Nicolas Cage, while wearing a bunch of leather, in yet another bad movie. How many awful films has he starred in? I suppose I can’t really blame him since the checks keep clearing. I’m so jealous. Oh well. At least the title character looks really cool with a skull and motorcycle engulfed in flames, so there’s that.

“That” is pretty much all there is. The Rider and just about everything he does looks great. He’s got fire and chains whirling about. He’s absorbing gunshots and spitting back flaming bullets. There’s all sorts of stunts with the bike and other machinery. The same could be said of Carrigan once he gets "the power of decay." Watching things fall apart in his hands is just awesome. By the way, one thing that doesn’t fall apart provides us with the only moment in the film that’s actually funny on purpose.

Unfortunately, everything else is horribly botched. Cage’s performance is bizarre. The super shaky cam, sped up film and quick cutting employed during his most over the top moments provide a number of unintentionally hilarious happenings. Whitworth, as Carrigan, chews scenery in a similar fashion. Mom is bland, the kid is annoying and Ciarán Hinds looks like a bored devil. Only Idris Elba shines, but he might have been downing real wine to make himself forget he actually signed up for this.

Spirit of Vengeance delivers precisely what the first one did: a fancy looking mess. The action scenes are silly, but fun. The rest of it is silly in a bad way, a very bad way. It is paced pretty briskly so it passes quickly. Thank goodness. The kids will like it so it’s got some use as a popcorn flick. However, this isn’t that fresh, piping hot and buttery popcorn we go crazy for. This is that slightly burned, a second from being stale poporn we eat because it happens to be sitting on the table in front of us.

MY SCORE: 4.5/10

Flight

Directed by Robert Zemeckis.

2012. Rated R, 139 minutes.

Cast:

Denzel Washington

Don Cheadle

Bruce Greenwood

John Goodman

Kelly Reilly

Tamara Tunie

Brian Geraghty

Melissa Leo

Nadine Velazquez

James Badge Dale

Airline pilot Captain Will Whitaker (Washington) parties hard. He drinks until he can no longer lift the bottle to his lips, snorts coke and bangs stewardesses. He’s also an unbelievably talented flyer. When his plane full of passengers starts falling apart, he pulls off a miraculous landing. Six people lose their lives. However, subsequent tests show that everyone on board should’ve been killed. Will is hailed as a hero when he wakes up in a hospital. Luckily for him, he suffers no major injuries. Unluckily, but not surprising, both alcohol and cocaine are found in his system immediately after the crash. An attempt to keep him out of jail ensues.

Riding to Will’s rescue are his long-time buddy Charlie (Greenwood) and a lawyer named Hugh (Cheadle). Their task is made incredibly tough by the realization that Will didn’t just have a wild night. He’s a raging alcoholic. As such, Denzel Washington gives a performance worthy of his lofty status. For the first time since American Gangster, the star turns in truly compelling work. He’s not alone, either. Don Cheadle is his usual excellent self. Kelly Reilly is also good as Nicole, the girlfriend he picks up at the hospital. Perhaps, the best performance belongs to John Goodman as Harlan, Will’s buddy/coke dealer. His screen time is severely limited, but he steals every scene in which he shows up.

Director Rob Zemeckis keeps things moving along at a very nice pace. It’s actually a pretty big feat considering the only action scene is right at the beginning. Such movies can feel like the air has been sucked out of the balloon. Here, the adrenaline-packed opening smoothly transitions into character study without alienating us. That study is conducted in a manner that makes us care for this man and his predicament.

However, Flight is not without its faults. Mainly, it’s just in-your-face preachy. It eventually gets to a point where it feels less like a movie and more like a public service announcement. We get the message because we’re hit in the head with it repeatedly. Other things that would’ve served the film better aren’t explored nearly as much as they should. For starters, how and why did Will become a drunk? How did he and Harlan become friends and what impact does that have on the situation? Without these and other answers, Flight has no more depth than a thirty second commercial for Alcoholics Anonymous.

Due to an outstanding cast and expert pacing Flight mostly overcomes its flaws to be an enjoyable experience. These combine to make Will Whitaker a person in which we really become vested. We see the shards of his life littering the ground beneath his feet. We hope he can pick them up and glue them back together in order to save himself.

MY SCORE: 7/10

Shame

Directed by Steve McQueen.

2011. Rated NC-17, 101 minutes.
Cast:
Michael Fassbender
Carey Mulligan
James Badge Dale
Nicole Beharie
Lucy Walters
Hannah Ware
Elizabeth Masucci

Like a lot of bachelors, Brandon (Fassbender) sleeps and walks around his apartment in the nude and uses the bathroom with the door open. This is the opening scene and serves as your warning Shame is a movie that doesn’t pull any punches. We learn shortly hat he has a well-paying job, watches lots of porn and has hookers over from time to time. He also spends a few nights a week at bars with his boss David (Dale) who is constantly trying to pick up chicks. A little after that, we find out the woman pleading with Brandon on his answering machine is not some jilted lover, but his estranged sister Sissy (Mulligan). She suddenly re-enters his life without permission. Against his better judgment, he decides to let Sissy stay with him a while. From there we watch his life, and eventually hers, fall apart.

It becomes pretty clear that Brandon is a sex addict. This is eroding his ability to function as a normal member of society and carry on meaningful relationships. However, we wonder why all the disdain for his sister. He seems to see her as a free-loader who bounces in and out of his life, wreaking havoc as she does. However, there also appears to be more to it than that. The movie moves steadily down that path, intriguing us all along the way.

Unfortunately, the seams burst during the third act. It happens when Brandon suddenly isn’t able to perform. Why isn’t readily clear. Perhaps the lady he's with is too nice a girl. Maybe it’s because his attraction to her isn’t based on sex. Or maybe it’s because she’s a co-worker, or because she’s black, or because he doesn’t like her choice of underwear. Whatever it is, it needs further explanation because none of those ideas hold much water based on what follows. We immediately see Brandon go on a serious binge involving a bit of everything. I guess it brings us back to the meaningful relationship/nice girl line of reasoning. However, their encounter isn’t something that takes place while they appear to be falling in love or even considering each other as serious potential mates. It’s a spontaneous, mid-day, ‘let’s go do it’, type of thing a day or two after they’d only had their first date, a moderately successful but decidedly asexual event which didn’t even result in a goodnight kiss. The problem is compounded by what Sissy does. It’s something that positions itself as an impetus for something, but for what? I’ve said too much. I’ll stop before I get into serious spoilers.

Michael Fassbender is ceaselessly fascinating in the lead role. His work is nothing short of courageous as he exposes himself both physically and emotionally throughout. He ably conveys the fragile mind state of an addict. He doesn’t have to go it alone, either. Carey Mulligan is nearly as good in her role. Her portrayal is not quite as in your face as Fassbender’s but it’s even closer to the breaking point right from the start. She teeters the edge very well.

Shame is an interesting movie dealing with an addiction not often depicted on screen. Director Steve McQueen tells his story without flinching and manages to hold our attention even when everyone has their clothes on. The problem comes with the pivotal scene I mention above. It triggers a serious binge by Brandon but doesn’t make much sense within the context of the movie. It just hangs there, a giant loose end we can’t quite tie. We get a similar feeling about how Brandon escapes even the slightest consequences for his behavior and of the ending itself. I’m all for ambiguous conclusions but when the credits roll on this one the questions raised aren’t compelling, leaving us with a dissatisfied feeling even after we enjoy so much of it.

MY SCORE: 8/10

Men in Black 3

Directed by Barry Sonnenfeld.
2012. Rated PG-13, 106 minutes.
Cast:
Will Smith
Tommy Lee Jones
Josh Brolin
Jemaine Clement
Emma Thompson
Michael Stuhlbarg
Bill Hader
Nicole Scherzinger

Agent J (Smith) and Agent K (Jones) are still chasing intergalactic baddies that commit their crimes here on Earth. Boris the Animal (Clement), just Boris if you ask him, is one such villain that K locked up way back in 1969, costing Boris his arm in the process. He’s so bad, a special prison was built for him on the moon. After all these years, Boris escapes. Of course, he wants revenge on the man who put him away. However, he doesn’t want just regular old retribution. In Terminator fashion, he decides to go back in time and kill K before the arrest or loss of his arm. Obviously, a different outcome in that situation will drastically alter the course of human history. After Boris’ apparent success, it’s up to Agent J to also travel back in time and rescue his partner.

All the familiar tenets of the franchise are present. We have the exotic creatures, though fewer than in the previous films, and the special fx that come with that. We also have the save the world urgency. Most prevalent is the foundation the franchise is built upon: the funny banter between our two main characters. It is based on their differences and has proven to be a winning (i.e., profitable) formula.

This time around there is a twist in that formula. When J goes back in time, he encounters a younger and happier version of Agent K played by Josh Brolin. Brolin is a fine actor in his own right. Here, he apes Jones perfectly and the powers that be were wise enough to use Jones’ voice to help create a fun performance.

Honestly, there’s not much else to Men in Black 3. It is the result of the director faithfully following a recipe. Nothing is done that might alter the dish. The one major wrinkle is the involvement of Brolin, but even that’s about as safe a choice as possible. If there is another it’s advancing the idea of multiple dimensions co-existent as alternates of one another, but even that’s not terribly revolutionary. The important thing is that it’s an enjoyable entrée. Every frame is indeed lightweight, but it is fun. Suffice it to say if you like the first two movies in the series, you’ll probably like this one.

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