THE MAN WHO KILLED DON QUIXOTE (2019) ** ½

Terry Gilliam’s obsession has finally paid off.  It took over twenty years, several false starts, cataclysms, natural disasters, and multiple deaths, but The Man Who Killed Don Quixote is at long last here.  It’s telling that Gilliam and Orson Welles both tried to make Don Quixote movies that were allegedly cursed.  It just goes to show you have to be some sort of mad genius to even attempt it.  

Adam Driver stars as Toby, a director who walks off the set of his latest commercial and goes sightseeing.  He returns to the town where he shot his first student film in which he cast a little old shoemaker (Jonathan Pryce) as Don Quixote.  Much to his surprise, the man still lives in town, and fully convinced he is actually Don Quixote (complete with armor).  Thinking Toby is his trusty sidekick Sancho, they ride off together looking for adventure.

If you’re familiar with Gilliam’s quest to make this movie, and have seen the documentary Lost in La Mancha, you will get a kick out of seeing scenes from that film finally being realized.  Not only that, it’s fun hearing little bits from Lost in La Mancha creeping into the narrative.  It’s as if the lines between Gilliam’s pursuit of completing the picture and the picture itself have blurred over time.  

Is the movie good?  It’s kind of a moot point by now.  It exists.  For that, we should be grateful.  

It’s a Gilliam movie.  It carries his distinct style.  It’s similar in many regards to The Fisher King.  There are even some nods to his Monty Python days.  The script is kind of sloppy, and the film goes on far too long.  It particularly threatens to spin out of control in the third act, although the finale is quite appropriate.  Even through its clunkiest passages, you get the sense that because Gilliam went through such hell to complete it, every bit of footage is going to be up on screen, by god.  It’s a testament to true grit and determination that we’re even able to lay eyes on it.

It all mostly works because of Driver’s performance.  He’s constantly making quips and muttering one-liners to himself.  He’s often quite funny playing the straight man to Pryce’s bombastic theatrics; stealing whole scenes with a single line or even a look.

While not the classic we might’ve been hoping for, The Man Who Killed Don Quixote lives.  

24 HOURS TO LIVE (2017) **

Ethan Hawke stars as a grieving husband and father.  He also happens to be an unemployed hitman struggling with addiction issues.  He gets killed while trying to pull one last job and is brought back to life temporarily by his employer to finish the hit.  One catch:  He’s only given 24 hours to live, but at least they fit him with a handy countdown clock embedded in his wrist so he can keep track of how much time he has left.  Instead of going after his target, Hawke joins forces with them to bring down the corpse rejuvenation program.

I’m a sucker for a good Hawkesploitation movie.  (Violent, sci-fi, and/or pulpy flicks Ethan Hawke makes when he isn’t busy doing indie films.)  Most of them are a cut above the rest.  They look like B pictures, but they have more depth or heart to them than what lies on the surface.  Take a look at Predestination, Assault on Precinct 13, or In a Valley of Violence.  This is one of the rare missteps for the genre.  

24 Hours to Live wastes a good idea, which is kind of what makes it frustrating.  It sort of plays like a more dramatic, less imaginative version of Dead Heat.  After a decent set-up, it shits the bed in short order and the Spray n’ Wash is nowhere to be found.  

I liked the nonchalant way Hawke dispatched a couple of goons in a strip club.  That little touch is more memorable and compelling than the generic car chases, shoot outs, and various action bits that populate the rest of the film.  (Some of which contain far too much slow motion.)  The final raid on the villain’s lair has some coldblooded moments, but it’s ultimately too little too late.

Hawke is fun to watch as usual.  Even when the funky plot is stumbling over itself, he keeps you marginally involved.  There’s also a nice turn by Rutger Hauer as Hawke’s beach bum dad.  He isn’t in it very much, and you’ll wish he had more to do, but he does get one great moment dispatching some mofos with a shotgun.

AKA:  24H Limit.

THE STRAP-ON ADVENTURE (1997) ***

Julie K. Smith and Lorissa McComas are two of my favorite Scream Queens of the ‘90s.  If you feel the same way, you’ll definitely want to check out this half-hour porno the two ladies filmed for a private collector.  As far as porn goes, you’ve seen much better.  The camerawork is shitty, the lighting is bad, and the editing is shoddy.  However, since it features Julie humping Lorissa with multiple vibrators, it’s something of a must-see.  

Lorissa lays on the bed talking to the cameraman, Ben, saying she just ordered a dominatrix.  Julie then strolls into the bedroom wearing a leather harness and a black latex mask.  The two fool around for a bit before the cameraman tells them that a guy named “Vinnie” wants to see Lorissa fucked good.  Julie then uses a vibrator on Lorissa before shoving an enormous strap-on inside her.  Later, she makes Lorissa cum by using a contraption that can only be described as nunchuck dildos.

The big debit here is the constant intrusions by the cameraman, Ben.  His running commentary doesn’t help anyone who isn’t named “Vinnie”.  (“Vinnie wants to see you get fucked.”)  Still, there’s no denying the chemistry between the two performers.  While the film takes a little while to get going, the final few minutes are really something to see.

I’m sure neither lady is especially proud of her work here.  (Lorissa looks uncomfortable most of the time and Julie never takes her mask off.)  I don’t know the level of regret involved in making this video.  All I know is, I don’t regret watching it.  If you’re a fan of either lady, you’ll want to check it out, if only for the curiosity factor.  

McComas (who died in 2009 at the age of 38) also starred in private hardcore videos alongside another Scream Queen, Nikki Fritz. 

BUCKY’S ‘70S TRIPLE XXX MOVIE HOUSE TRAILERS VOL. 3 (1995) ***

This was my first brush with Something Weird’s compilation series of ‘70s porn trailers.  I can honestly say they give you your money’s worth.  I’ve never even heard of most of the movies featured, so it’s fun to watch just to see the many obscure titles.  Some of the prints are terrible.  Many of them look ragged, and constantly skip, pop, and jump, but who cares?  Especially when it adds to the scummy atmosphere of the overall experience.  

The trailers include:  Woman in Love (featuring Ron Jeremy sucking himself off), Nasty Lady, China Girl (starring James Hong!), The Joy of Letting Go, A Little More Than Love, Baby Face 2, Oriental Baby Sitter, Kate and the Indians, Hot Pursuit (featuring Annette Haven), Summer Session, Angel on Fire, Sounds of Sex, Oh Fanny, Tapestry of Passion (a John Holmes Johnny Wadd picture), Bangkok Connection, Pandora’s Mirror, Sensational Janine, Coming Together, A Portrait of Seduction, L’Amour (starring Ginger Lynn), Little Girls Lost…,  M*A*S*H’D, Never Enough, Beyond Fulfillment, Perverse, Alice in Wonderland (probably the most famous film featured here), Sex World, Lollipop Palace, Champagne for Breakfast, French Finishing School, Scheherazade:  One Thousand and One Erotic Nights, Inside Marilyn, Bad Company, Scandalous Simone, The Psychiatrist, Josephine, and Prison Babies.

It would’ve been nice if the trailers had been curated in some way.  Perhaps grouped by star, theme, or studio.  (Many of them were Essex productions.)  Also, some of them are clearly from the ‘80s, which I’m only pointing out because I’m a stickler for such things.  Even with those qualms in mind, Bucky’s ‘70s Triple XXX Movie House Trailers Vol. 3 gives you nearly two non-stop hours of vintage smut, so I can’t complain too much.  If you’re a fan of vintage porn and trailer compilations (like me), this collection will pretty much be review-proof as it is.    

THE LEGEND OF TARZAN (2016) * ½

The Legend of Tarzan takes an inordinate amount of time getting going.  We start off with a laborious scene setting up Christoph Waltz’s villainy, turgid sequences of Samuel L. Jackson trying to convince Tarzan (Alexander Skarsgard) to return to Africa, and Tarzan’s flashbacks to his childhood growing up in the jungle.  By the time the adult Tarzan finally returns home with his wife Jane (Margot Robbie) in tow, I was already nodding off.  Unfortunately, it doesn’t improve much from there.

Part of the problem is Skarsgard makes for a dull Tarzan.  While he certainly looks the part with his scraggily hair and chiseled physique, he acts much too civilized to really sell the character.  Even when he starts swinging from vines and shit, you never once believe it. 

 Robbie, who you would think is ideally cast as Jane, is shrill.  Like Skarsgard, she looks great in the role, but comes up way short.  Waltz is stuck playing his umpteenth twist on his stock villain role and Djmon Honsou is, of course, around to play yet another villain.  Jackson is the only spark of life, although he just seems shoehorned in there to give Tarzan a sidekick that modern-day audiences can relate to.  

Another problem is that the filmmakers try to make Tarzan a reluctant hero.  They spend a lot of time having Tarzan hemming and hawing about coming back to Africa.  It would’ve worked better had Tarzan been more assertive.  As it is, it takes him a good hour or so before he starts doing his thing, which is far too long if you ask me.

Another issue is that director David Yates (the director of the last 47 Harry Wizard movies) should’ve just assumed everyone knows the story of Tarzan and Jane.  The flashback scenes are incongruous to the action and are totally superfluous.  The scene of Tarzan and Jane’s first meeting (complete with bad de-aging CGI) falls flat.  At one point, Waltz forgoes getting into a big speech and simply says, “He’s Tarzan, you’re Jane.  He’ll come for you.”  The rest of the movie should’ve taken its cue from this bit of dialogue and just trusted the audience to know who the fuck Tarzan and Jane are.

Also, the ape CGI is pretty bad.  They don’t look terrible when they’re standing still, but once they get moving, it looks quite phony.  The big scene where Tarzan swings from his trusty vine suffers from terrible FX too.  I mean they can make Spider-Man swinging through the air look great with no problem.  How come when Tarzan does it, it looks so shitty?  It’s bad enough we have to wait nearly an hour before he swings on the vine to begin with, and even then, the CGI is so shitty it looks like something out of Pitfall.  

Like the main character, the movie spends too much time being civilized.  Once it finally loosens up a little, all we get is a few generic fight scenes that use way too much slow motion.  The humor (like when Skarsgard and Jackson joke about licking monkey nuts) feels out of place, but at least it’s memorable, unlike everything else in this bland, boring mess.

Remember as a kid when all those old Johnny Weissmuller movies used to be on TV non-stop and you could kill a lazy afternoon watching them?  I can’t imagine anyone doing that with this version.  Heck, even the Disney version is head and shoulders better than this tripe.  

AKA:  Tarzan.  AKA:  Tarzan:  Reborn.  

ROLLS ROYCE BABY (1975) ****

Any movie that starts with Lina Romay shaving her pussy immediately gets my attention.  Having her practically orgasm by merely applying the shaving lather is a plus.  Never mind the fact that she was clearly shaved before filming.  That in no way detracts from the intensity of the scene, especially when she’s given narration like:  “My body will be smooth and hairless as an infant!”, “Men will desire me as they would a virgin!”, and “They will all lust after my virgin territory!”

This naturally leads to a scene where Lina fingers her freshly shorn fun button until she humps herself into nirvana.    

We eventually find out her character, Lisa is a nude model/actress.  She doesn’t pose for her photographer for five minutes before he’s banging her under the hot lights.  Later, she watches a guy doing Kung Fu and imagines him karate-chopping naked before giving him a demonstration of nude yoga.  She tells him about her past when she was picked up hitchhiking by a trucker.  She strips down in the passenger seat and the trucker and his buddy bang her in the back of the cab.  (“I’ll teach you how to fuck in a truck!”)

Then, something of a plot emerges.  She gets her Kung Fu friend to dress up as a chauffeur and drive her around in her Rolls Royce.  They then pick up random hitchhikers who are more than happy to get it on with her in the backseat.  If it takes them a while to find someone, she’s content to mess around with herself (again) until a prospective stud shows up.  She even mistakes one woman (Ursula Shaefer) for a man, but luckily, she’s more than willing to do the backseat boogie with Lisa.  

Rolls Royce Baby is one of the best Lina Romay vehicles ever made (no pun intended).  It’s not quite as good as Jess Franco’s Female Vampire, but it certainly comes close, just in terms of pure skin alone. Director Erwin C. (Frauleins in Uniform) Dietrich gives us lots of lingering close-ups of Romay’s… shall we say, femininity.  There’s hardly any part of Lina that goes unexplored.  Dietrich also gives us a hint of hardcore footage (which is tastefully done).

Lina gives a terrific performance.  She’s surprisingly tender in the scene where she sits alone in the car using a tissue to wipe herself clean after an anonymous fuck.  She looks absolutely lonely and miserable.  It’s a great moment that shows her ultimately empty existence.  Little touches like these highlight the fact that Dietrich and Romay wanted to make something more than just a simple skin flick (but not too much).  

Take for example the ending.  At first, you think a relationship is going to form with Lisa and the woman she picks up as she is the only hitchhiker who is invited back to the house and goes for multiple rounds in the sack with her.  Eventually, she moves on, leaving Lisa and her chauffeur alone once again.  The film ends with them getting into the car and going on the prowl for more sex.  Nothing is learned.  No message is hammered home.  Nothing is gained.  Nothing is lost.  We’re left with the impression her sexual appetites probably will never be sated, and she will go on repeating her behavior again and again.  There is no judgment here.  No slut shaming.  Although there is no celebrating her sexual liberation either.  Dietrich is merely presenting the desperate act of a lonely woman with the means of living out her fantasies and fetishes.  Because of that, Rolls Royce Baby is a premium import.

DEFENDOR (2010) **

Defendor, like Super, is about a man who takes it upon himself to become a vigilante superhero.  While somewhat humorous, it is much more serious about its subject matter and whether or no the hero’s delusions of grandeur are a product of mental illness.  I think there’s room for a good movie here, but writer/director Peter Stebbings never quite finds it.  

Arthur (Woody Harrelson) dons a black outfit, helmet, and painted-on mask to fight his archnemesis, Captain Industry.  He also does battle with a crooked cop (Elias Koteas) who has a thing for a junkie hooker (Kat Dennings).  She then uses Arthur to get more drugs by claiming to know all about his fictional villain’s operation.  

There was a good idea here.  The early scenes set a nice tone that the rest of the movie struggles to recapture.  Super and Kick-Ass did a good job portraying its characters as off-kilter, but still incompetent and believable as a makeshift superhero.  Here, it never seems like Harrelson’s in any real danger, not because he’s adept at kicking butt, but because the screenplay seems much too convenient.  At all times, it feels like a first draft of a script as the predicaments arise and are resolved without much consequence or emotional impact.  (Even the tragic ending falls flat.)  The action is flatly filmed too, what little of it there is, anyway.  

Harrelson almost singlehandedly holds the picture together.  He does a fine job as the vigilante crimefighter and as his possibly unstable alter ego.  Dennings, one of the more winsome and enchanting actresses around, is stuck playing a thoroughly repellent junkie who grates on the nerves more than tugs at your heart.  Koteas is well-cast as the slimy cop, but the script lets him down.  Sandra Oh is also around as Defendor’s therapist, although her intrusions on the narrative (most of it is told in flashback from her office) become annoying quickly.