BLACK CHRISTMAS (2019) * ½

When is Black Christmas not Black Christmas?  When it’s Black Christmas!  

The genius of Bob Clark’s 1974 horror classic, Black Christmas was in its simplicity.  A crazy dude makes crank calls to some sorority sisters who are stuck at school over Christmas break before picking them off.  The 2006 remake overcomplicated things by giving the killer a gratuitous back story, but hey, at least it gave us a wicked scene where he used cookie cutters on someone’s back to make flesh cookies.  

This is the second remake and it pretty much jettisons anything having to do with the killer.  The premise is still the same.  A group of sorority sisters stuck at school are menaced by a killer.  Only this time the filmmakers infuse the film with a lot of feminist touches, commentary on the Me Too movement, and white male privilege.  Which is fine.  I don’t mind a movie that wears its passion on its sleeve.  

However, once the big reveal of the killer occurs, it undermines the message the filmmakers were trying to send.  I know the film was neutered by the studio to gain a PG-13 rating, and there are several moments where the would-be gore is awkwardly edited out or the ADR is obviously replacing harsher dialogue.  (It feels like you’re watching the TV version in the theater.)  I don’t know if these edits also altered the finale and somehow accidentally stripped the first hour of its potential power, or if the ending just wasn’t thought through to begin with.  Whatever the case may be, when Black Christmas shits the bed, it goes clear through the mattress and down into the box springs.

Lest I sound like I’m carving the flick up, let me state upfront I was with it from the get-go.  The opening sequence where a victim’s death rattle results in a snow angel gone horribly wrong sets the tone nicely.  There were also several instances where the cinematography was pitch perfect.  (I think my favorite use of lighting was the scene in which the sorority sister looked for her cat.)  I also liked that the filmmakers hired actresses that physically resembled Olivia Hussy from the original and Mary Elizabeth Winstead from the remake.  

To really get to the problem of the movie, I have to head to spoiler city, so anyone who doesn’t want the film spoiled for them, make a U-Turn now.  

Okay, so in the middle of the movie, the killers are revealed to be frat boys in black cloaks who wear Dr. Doom rip-off masks.  That would’ve been fine, I guess.  The problem is that they are all mind-controlled by this black goop that emanates from the founder of the school’s bust.  During a black mass/hazing ritual, pledges are smeared with his stuff and it “brings out their alpha” and causes them to be overly misogynistic and even homicidal toward women.  

Sure, this Tommyknockers bullshit is dumb, but it causes the film to shoot itself in the foot.  By attributing the boys’ criminal behavior to the onyx ooze, you’re essentially letting them off the hook.  Like the goo made them do it.  Wouldn’t the satire cut deeper if the fraternity brothers only had themselves to blame for their own toxic masculinity rather than this Stepford Skulls malarkey?  

Maybe I’m just overthinking the implications of the big reveal.  Maybe you’re not supposed to think when it comes to this movie.  If you ask me, it was better when the sorority sisters had to fend off one crazy psycho and not a bunch of Lovecraftian frat boys.  Maybe if they had called it anything but Black Christmas, I could’ve overlooked the shitty third act, because there truly is some decent stuff in the early going.

But let’s face it, “I’ve been getting some weird DM’s” is nothing compared to “THE CALLS ARE COMING FROM INSIDE THE HOUSE!”

TRA-LA-LA-LA-LA LA-VOLTA: SPEED KILLS (2018) *

Ben Aronoff leaves his lucrative New Jersey construction business under mysterious circumstances to go and sell speedboats in Miami.  He quickly falls in love with the sport and becomes a champion speedboat racer almost overnight.  Before long, his former employer, gangster Meyer Lansky (James Remar) comes calling.  He wants Ben to use his boats to run drugs, and because they are friends, he doesn’t mind so much when Ben pushes back.  Things change rapidly once Lansky dies and his hotheaded nephew (Kellan Lutz), who hates Ben with a passion, takes over.

Like Travolta’s Gotti, this is another crummy gangster picture with insipid aspirations of being a Martin Scorsese movie.  Like Scorsese’s Mob films, there are freeze frames of important Mob figures (Travolta lets you know who they are via voiceover), montages set to songs by Italian crooners, and of course, gangland violence.  It’s unfair to keep comparing Speed Kills to Scorsese’s body of work because it can’t compete.  Heck, even compared to Gotti, it’s pretty much a mess.

Like Gotti, both films span decades.  Whereas that flick at least had an array of wigs, period costumes, and old age make-up to show the march of time, here, Travolta always looks like his usual self, albeit at times with a slightly different haircut.  Even though Speed Kills takes place from 1962 to 1987, it always looks like it’s set in present day!  (The only period detail seems to be a pay phone that’s featured in the early going.)

Although the plot may be a bit more coherent than Gotti, the film as a whole is even worse, if you can believe it.  Like Gotti, it’s incompetent on many levels (don’t get me started on the horrible CGI during the hurricane sequence), but it lacks the jaw-dropping badness that may give that flick a shelf life as a camp classic for future generations.  This one is just plain bad.  

Travolta does what he can, but this one is pretty much DOA from the start.  The supporting cast are equally at odds with the weak material.  Katheryn Winnick and Jennifer Esposito are wasted as the women in Travolta’s life and Tom Sizemore is underutilized as a hitman.  It was nice seeing Michael Weston, Travolta’s co-star from Lucky Numbers popping up in a sizable role.  The most bizarre bit though came from Matthew Modine in an extended cameo as George H.W. Bush!  

Director John Lussenhop of Texas Chainsaw 3-D fame had his name removed from the final product.  I can’t say I blame him.  He still retains a screenwriting credit though. 

I hope he was responsible for the only good line of dialogue, which comes when Travolta begins his meteoric ascension in the racing business and tells Esposito, “You’re swinging with Tarzan now.  Hang on.”

SANTO VS. CAPULINA (1969) * ½

Capulina (Gaspar Henaine) was a famous Mexican comedian who starred in over eighty comedies.  He was so popular it’s not surprising he would eventually meet El Santo.  I’ve never seen a Capulina movie before, and this one didn’t exactly make me want to see another one any time soon. 

El Santo is on the trail on some diamond thieves.  Naturally, his investigation causes him to cross paths with the irritating Capulina.  Santo brushes him off, but Capulina takes it upon himself to help nab the bad guys.  (He even buys himself an El Santo mask.)  Things get more complicated when the villain creates a robot double of Capulina, with predictable results.

The obvious problem with Santo vs. Capulina is that it’s more of a Capulina comedy than an El Santo movie.  His shtick just isn’t funny and mostly revolves around him accidentally knocking shit over.  The annoying comedic musical score that accompanies his routines is repeated ad nauseum and is liable to give you a migraine before the flick is over. 

This was especially disappointing considering the great Rene (Night of the Bloody Apes) Cardona directed it.  Even if you could dismiss Capulina’s unfunny shenanigans, Cardona drops the ball when it comes to the action.  Take for instance the fight in the warehouse.  It’s very cheap looking (El Santo is obviously knocking the bad guys into empty boxes) and the camera placement is awkward, which makes for a lackluster brawl.

The El Santo scenes work up to a point.  My favorite moment came when the villain sends a sexy robot babe after him and he pushes her into a swimming pool, and she explodes!  He also fights a robot wrestler, but it doesn’t count as a true wrestling match as it occurs during practice in an empty arena.  I mean what can you say about an El Santo movie that doesn’t even feature him wrestling?  There are also no musical sequences in the film, which would’ve preferable to Capulina’s unfunny comedy bits. 

Overall, I can’t say this is the worst El Santo movie I’ve ever seen.  It’s just the one that strays furthest from my sensibilities.  There’s always been an element of humor in these films, although it’s mostly unintentional due to the shoddy special effects and low budget.  This one is proof that when they try to be funny on purpose, the results are often painful.  

THE CHAMPAGNE GANG (2006) *

Four surfer girls make a killing stealing booze and cigarettes from liquor stores and selling them on the black market for a big mark up.  In the process, they wind up accidentally ripping off the local kingpin.  Instead of being angry, he is impressed by their tenacity and proposes a partnership.  He’ll bankroll their gang and help train them properly so they can knock off a bunch of drug stores (in exchange for a percentage of course).  Predictably, it doesn’t take long before the girls get in over their heads and get the attention of the local law.

The Champagne Gang is allegedly based on a true story.  Even if it was a complete fabrication, the idea of scantily clad girls becoming hardened criminals is certainly appealing.  The ladies in the cast look great and all, but unfortunately, there isn’t a real actress among them.  They recite their dialogue rather saying it with emotion, which prevents their characters from really clicking with the audience.

Look, I’m a sucker for a heist flick, especially one that feature hot girls in the cast.  Too bad this always feels like bare bones treatment in search of a movie.  It’s one thing to have a low budget with inexperienced actresses, but even master thespians would have trouble overcoming the threadbare script and the thin characters.

Plus, the heists themselves aren’t expertly executed either.  I mean, if it’s one activity that cinema can make into a thrilling experience, it’s a well-executed heist.  In this flick, there’s a robbery that merely involves one of the girls endlessly banging on a safe with a pickaxe. 

Since we never care about the characters and there’s no fun or suspense during the heists, what are we left with?  Sure, the girls are easy on the eyes, but that can only carry the movie so far.  We do get an inexplicable cameo by 3000 Miles to Graceland’s Bokeem Woodbine as a rock star though. 

Director Daniel Zirilli went on to direct movies starring Steven Seagal and Dolph Lundgren. 

BARON BRAKOLA (1967) ** ½

The vampire Baron Brakola (Fernando Oses) rises from the grave searching for the reincarnation of his lost love Rebeca (Susana Robles).  Naturally, El Santo handily defeats the Baron.  Afterwards, El Santo’s professor friend tells him about the Baron’s past where centuries ago, he vied for the affections of the beautiful Rebeca with El Santo’s ancestor, The Silver-Masked Caballero.  

Seeing El Santo (though it might’ve been another actor entirely) wearing a Zorro-inspired outfit in the flashback scenes is enough to make this one memorable.  The sword fight scenes are kind of cool, although I much prefer the Mexican wrestling to the swordplay if I’m being perfectly honest.  I’m more about turnbuckles than swashbuckles, you know what I mean?  Generally, this wouldn’t have been so bad if the flashback didn’t take up half the dang running time.

Meanwhile, back in the present, Brakola returns and disguises himself as El Santo’s next opponent.  He almost bites El Santo in the ring, but luckily, the professor is there to scare him off with a cross.  El Santo then follows Brakola back to his mansion for the final showdown.

The cool opening scene set in a decrepit mansion where the undead Baron rises from his crypt sets the mood nicely.  It almost looks like they reused the set from Santo vs. the Vampire Women.  There’s even the same painting of Rebeca hanging on the wall! 

In addition to his big match with the Baron, El Santo’s other wrestling scene is a real slobberknocker.  It’s a tag team match where the fists fly furiously, and the body slams occur at a steady clip.  El Santo also has a great brawl with the Baron in an empty auditorium as the vampiric villain frantically trades lefts and rights with our masked hero.  There’s even a brawl during the flashback that goes on for quite some time.  (We get an obligatory dance number during the flashback too.)

There’s a good amount of action here, even if the fights that occur outside of the ring get a bit repetitive.  That’s mostly because El Santo is always battling Brakola.  Maybe if he had an army of henchmen for El Santo to go up against, it would’ve added some variety.  Still, for all its faults (the draggy middle section being chief among them), Baron Brakola contains all the rubber bats, lap-dissolve transformation scenes, cobwebbed crypts, and neck biting you’d expect from a Mexican vampire movie, and for that, I can’t completely write it off.  

AKA:  Santo vs. Baron Brakola.  

THE CURIOUS FEMALE (1970) **

The great earthquake of 1969 turns Los Angeles into an island.  In the year 2427, the world is ran by a “Master Computer” that outlaws sexual morality.  The swinging rebels of the future gather to watch underground sex films from the 20th century and have orgies.  First, they watch a faux-silent movie called The Vacuum Salesman. 

The rest of The Curious Female is devoted to the second smut film the futuristic people watch called The Three Virgins.  It’s about a man who uses a college computer dating service to find a virgin.  Pearl (Charlene Jones) is an African American with an abusive home life.  Joan (Bunny Allister) is engaged to a med student who’s sexually frustrated because she wants to wait for marriage.  Susan (Angelique Pettyjohn) is a stacked tease.  Occasionally, we cut back to the future where the perplexed moviegoers ask questions about the characters’ antiquated sexual views.

It almost feels like the futuristic wraparound footage was added to pad out the running time. Either that or it was unfinished, and the filmmakers just cobbled something together at the last minute to create a releasable product.  It’s probably the later because one of the futuristic women comments that there’s a reel missing from the film because “the producers ran out of money”!

It’s ironic that the slapdash, silly sci-fi framing device is more entertaining than the swinging ‘60s scenes of computer dating and sexual misadventures.  These sequences just aren’t funny or sexy.  At least the futuristic stuff has a certain cheese factor to help make it watchable.  It also doesn’t help that the film gets progressively worse as it goes along.  It especially turns sour once the girls begin losing their virginity, which is the exact opposite of what you think should’ve happened.  The opening credits sequence in which the groovy title track plays over pastel colored images of pussycats and nude women is a lot of fun though. 

Joan’s mother gets the best line of the movie when she tells her daughter, “I want you to be a virgin, but I don’t want you to be a hermit!” 

AKA:  Curious Females.

TRA-LA-LA-LA-LA LA-VOLTA: GOTTI (2018) * ½

Gotti was directed and co-written by actors, which tracks because it’s filled with scenes in which the performers are given showy, blustery set pieces that allow them to wear an assortment of period clothes, a variety of old age make-ups, and silly wigs.  Some individual scenes work, but there’s no dramatic through line connecting them.  It’s all scenery-chewing, would-be Oscar clips in search of a movie.

Gotti wants to show us the rise and fall of notorious crime boss John Gotti.  Gotti is played by John Travolta, who is clearly invested, just underserved by the slapdash screenplay.  Major incidents in his life are shown (like the death of his son), but are quickly forgotten almost as soon as they are introduced.  The narrative hops back and time through the years, seemingly at random.  It feels more like a collection of deleted scenes than an honest to goodness plot.  The framing device, with his son visiting the cancer ridden Gotti in prison is also forgotten at random in favor of more Mob movie clichés and made for TV level theatrics.  

Travolta’s performance alone makes it watchable.  He singlehandedly prevents the film from being as bad as its reputation, but even he can’t keep it afloat.  His real-life wife, Kelly Preston plays Gotti’s wife, and it’s an extremely underwritten role.  She probably only took the role because she wanted to work with her husband once again, or more likely, because no one else would.  Stacy Keach has some good moments as an elder Mob statesman and Gotti’s mentor, and old pros Pruitt Taylor Vince, Chris Mulkey, and Leo Rossi (who also co-wrote the script) appear as assorted Mafioso.  

Some amusement can be had from the horrible usage of pop songs that play over certain sequences.  Many of the needle drops are bizarre and they seldom fit the action onscreen.  (Like the inexplicable use of the theme from Shaft.)  I did like the Christmastime Mob hit set to Elvis’ rendition of “Silent Night”, which means only one thing… Guys, Gotti is a Christmas movie!