HAPPY DEATH DAY (2017) *

Happy Death Day is a slasher version of Groundhog Day.  That premise is so idiotic and yet so simple that you can imagine a creatively bankrupt Hollywood exec hearing the pitch and then greenlighting it immediately.  The problem is, it’s all pitch and no movie.  

A thoroughly annoying college student (Jessica Rothe) wakes up on her birthday and is killed by a stalker wearing a baby mask.  She then wakes up on the same day and is forced to relive her murder again and again.  Each time she tries to outrun her destiny, the jackass baby face is still is somehow able to kill her.

I can’t believe this became a big hit and spawned a sequel.  Like I said, it’s so idiotic and simple that it just stands to reason that it would clean up with the teenage bubblegum crowd that wouldn’t know a real horror movie if it bit them.  I guess the premise could’ve been tolerated if the gore factor was jacked up or there was a bunch of nudity.  As it is, it’s another one of those watered-down PG-13 deals, so the kills (which almost always revolve around Rothe) are bloodless and weak, and the only nude scene is shown from the back.  

Much of the problem is due to Rothe, who kind of resembles an off-brand Bella Thorne.  Her character is so unlikeable, you’re actually rooting for her to get offed.  Unfortunately, the movie can’t even deliver on that because the kills are like something out of a CW show.  

I mean, her character’s name is “Tree” for fuck’s sake.  At first, I thought it was a nickname.  Like she was an ecology nut.  Or perhaps it was short for something, but no.  Her name is fucking Tree.  I think the moment that cemented my hatred of her came when the characters discuss Groundhog Day and she has no clue what they’re talking about.  She deserved a gruesome death just for that.  

I’m not saying ripping off Groundhog Day is the worst idea in the world.  Remember when Edge of Tomorrow did the same thing?  In that instance, it was all good because that movie took the inspiration and did something novel with it.  No such luck with Happy Death Day.  The filmmakers take an already slim idea and then do absolutely jack shit with it.  There’s even a scene where the filmmakers try to redeem Tree by having her do good deeds for the people she sees every single day, but it comes off less as a moment of character redemption and more like, “Hey, what part of Groundhog Day haven’t we ripped off yet?  Oh yeah, that part where Bill Murray starts doing good deeds.”  The ending is also painfully predictable, which only adds to the feeling of interminable agitation.

AKA:  Happy Birthdead.  AKA:  Half to Death.

CROCODILE (1981) *

I’ve seen a lot of bad Jaws rip-offs in my day, but Crocodile just may be the worst one of them all.  It was produced by Dick (Pieces) Randall, who re-edited and rereleased a Thai killer crocodile flick called Crocodile Fangs on an unsuspecting public.  Somehow, he managed to make it even more incomprehensible.

A hurricane caused by atomic testing ravages a seaside resort.  The storm awakens a giant crocodile that begins gobbling up tourists left and right.  A doctor quits practicing medicine when his entire family is wiped out by the killer croc.  Eventually, he and his buddy get help from a local fisherman to finally stop the crocodile’s reign of terror.

The editing in this movie ranks among the worst in film history.  The attack scenes are especially inept.  First, we see a swimmer or a duck or something splashing in the water.  Then, the editor cuts to a crocodile blinking.  Next, we see the same bather or what have you frolicking around before they are promptly killed by a jump cut.  

The disaster movie-inspired hurricane scenes are even worse.  The shots of piss-poor grass hut models being overran by cascading water are a complete joke.  I did get a laugh though when the locals get killed by the ensuing typhoon, which is to say they just open their front door and get hit in the face with a bucket of water.  

Then there’s the ending.  It features incongruous shots of men in a boat, a toy boat in a bathtub, a fake rubber crocodile, and nature footage of a croc swimming around somewhere.  Finally, there’s a big explosion (READ:  There is a moderate splash in the water), and the movie slowly winds down trying in vain to gaslight us into thinking something actually happened.  

The whole movie is like that.  There are long scenes where nothing happens (the nighttime scenes are so dark you can’t make anything out), and when it finally does, the editing is so schizoid that your brain can’t even process it.  This is especially true whenever the filmmakers try to make the crocodile look enormous by having a regular crocodile walk through a shitty model set.  Then, the next time we see it, it’s nothing but nature footage of a croc, so it just looks regular size.  It’s as if each successive shot makes less sense than the one that came before it.

Since this is a Jaws rip-off, there are all the scenes that you’d expect to see from the subgenre.  (POV shots of the beast slowly inching toward unsuspecting swimmers, a crotchety fisherman agreeing to help catch the beast, shots of the water turning red whenever someone is eaten, etc.)  However, when it’s trying to do its own thing, the film is usually pretty funny.  I admit, I got a big laugh from the part when some divers tried to catch the croc by using a giant bear trap that looked like something out of a Wile E. Coyote cartoon.  

Those silly moments are few and far between though.  Most of Crocodile is a senseless, depressing, and inexcusable bore.  Put in another way, it’s a giant croc of shit. 

AKA:  Bloody Destroyer.  AKA:  Giant Crocodile.    

THE MARK OF ZORRO (1920) ****

When I was a kid, I was weaned on Zorro reruns on The Disney Channel.  (Remember when The Disney Channel played cool shit like that and not the hot garbage they show now?)  As I grew up, I enjoyed the Antonio Banderas movies just as much, if not more.  Somehow, I never saw Douglas Fairbanks as the original Zorro.  I mean, I saw Zorro, the Gay Blade and even The Erotic Adventures of Zorro, but not the original.  Since I enjoyed Fairbanks in The Thief of Bagdad a few months ago, I figured to give this one a shot.  

This is about the purest hit of swashbuckling action you could hope for.  It moves like lightning and the swordfights, feats of derring-do, and stunt work are jaw-dropping.  Never mind the fact this movie is a hundred years old.  It rocks and it rocks hard.  

Captain Ramon (Robert McKim) is obsessed with capturing the masked man Zorro who goes around avenging wronged Native Americans who have been abused at the hand of the Captain’s men.  He tells of his inability to best Zorro to the rich bachelor Don Diego (Fairbanks) blissfully unaware that Diego is in fact Zorro.  Meanwhile, Diego’s father pushes him into an arranged marriage with Lolita (Marguerite De La Motte) who finds him to be a cold fish.  Zorro on the other hand, she has the hots for.  When Lolita and her family are imprisoned by the Captain, Zorro springs into action to save them.

There is no fat on this thing whatsoever.  It is wall to wall action with the barest minimum of plot development.  That works in the movie’s favor.  Because of that, we learn about the characters not through dialogue or plot devices, but through their deeds.  The action itself is breathtaking, funny, and rousing, and the romance comes naturally from the two leads’ chemistry.  

You can see how this movie inspired everything from Batman to The Lone Ranger to The Dread Pirate Roberts.  Fairbanks cuts such a dashing figure that his Zorro deserves mention alongside those iconic characters.  You can also imagine the creators of Superman taking a page from Zorro’s secret identity here as Don Diego is a bit of a dork.  He’s always fatigued, doing magic tricks, or making shadow puppets, which easily makes him more like Clark Kent than Bruce Wayne.  

Also, we have to talk about how progressive this movie is.  Nearly every single western at the time and for decades to come portrayed Native Americans as villains or stereotypes.  Zorro sticks up for them, which is refreshing.  He also protects victims of sexual harassment and teaches their attackers a lesson.  Heck, when he rescues the damsel in distress he even lets HER give him a kiss, which tells us he knows a thing or two about consent.  Dude, Zorro is woke as fuck.  And this was a hundred freaking years ago.  

What elevates Fairbanks’ Zorro into the upper echelon of movie heroes is the way he inspires the people around him to take action against the villains.  He doesn’t just do good.  He inspires others to greatness.  That right there is the true mark of a hero.

BATTLESHIP POTEMKIN (1925) *** ½

During quarantine, I’ve devoted most of my movie-watching time to lightweight, disposable entertainment.  (Aside from the occasional downbeat and depressing flick like Tetro and The Nightingale, that is.)  Looking back, I should’ve spent that time on films I SHOULD have seen by now, but somehow haven’t.  I’m not going to make a fulltime column about it or anything, but going forward, I will try to try and catch up on some of the all-time cinema classics that have somehow escaped me all these years.  

We start by going all the way back nearly a hundred years with Sergei Eisenstein’s highly influential Battleship Potemkin.  This is one of those movies that’s been copied so many times over the years that I’ve seen not only the movies that have ripped it off, but also the movies that ripped off the rip-off.  (For example, I’ve seen The Untouchables, which rips off the iconic Odessa Steps sequence from this flick AND Naked Gun 33 1/3, which parodies the scene in The Untouchables, but I’ve never seen the original.)  How did it stack up?  Let’s see!

First, a quick plot rundown.  Russian sailors grow increasingly dissatisfied with their untenable work environment aboard the titular vessel.  Things come to a boiling point when they’re expected to eat maggot-ridden meat.  When the captain threatens to shoot the men for not eating their inedible food, the sailors stage a revolt.  One sailor dies during the mutiny and the incident sparks the people of Odessa to call for a revolution.

The first thing we notice about Battleship Potemkin is that if you strip away the black and white and subtitles, it’s a very modern looking film.  The editing is much tighter and refined than most of the silent films of the era.  There’s a rhythm to the editing that most pictures of the time lacked which helps makes the mutiny scene quite suspenseful.    

The vast crowd sequences are also impressive.  There was no CGI back then.  Nope, Eisenstein had to corral hundreds of extras and capture it all on film, which gives these scenes an added dimension of awe. 

Then there’s the Odessa Steps sequence.  It’s as every bit as good as its reputation.  Not only is it surprisingly suspenseful (even if you are already familiar with the basic beats of the scene), it’s surprisingly bloody (for the time) too.  

The problem is, after that scene, the movie continues on for a good fifteen minutes or so.  While the conclusion is fitting, it’s nowhere near as suspenseful or memorable as the Odessa Steps sequence.  There’s a reason why filmmakers rip that scene off and not the finale.  Still, despite the lukewarm climax, Battleship Potemkin remains a quintessential building block in the foundation of the language of cinema.  For that alone, movie buffs are sure to enjoy it.

AKA:  Potemkin.  AKA:  The Armored Cruiser Potemkin.  

ALL DOLLED UP: A NEW YORK DOLLS STORY (2005) ** ½

In the mid-‘70s, rock photographer Bob Gruen and his wife Nadya bought a (then) state-of-the-art video camera and used it to capture one of the greatest rock bands of the era, The New York Dolls as they approached their zenith.  He was able to gain nearly unrestricted access to the band as they toured the west coast, interviewing them, filming their backstage antics, and recording them playing to packed houses as they belt out such classics as “Looking for a Kiss”, “Personality Crisis”, and “Human Being”.  

I’m genuinely a fan of Gruen’s work.  As a noted rock photographer, he captured some of the most iconic photos of some of the most iconic bands of the ‘70s.  I just feel that maybe video wasn’t his forte.  Thanks to his photographer’s eye, much of the footage looks great, it’s just a shame the sound quality is often poor (which is a pretty big deal when you’re making a documentary about music).  The interview segments aren’t all that enlightening either.  I know the Dolls aren’t exactly the deepest band in the world, but the questions Gruen asks are superficial, and the backstage day-in-the-life minutia he captures is mostly inconsequential too.  

There are some nice moments to be sure.  I dug the scene where the Dolls are hanging around an airport waiting for their flight.  The expressions on the squares and little old ladies who gawk at them are priceless.  I also liked seeing the Dolls shopping for lingerie at Fredrick’s of Hollywood.  These segments are fun.  It’s just that there’s not a whole lot here to hang an entire documentary on.

Even die-hard fans of the band (like me) might be left a little cold by this one.  Many performances are cut to ribbons, or just shown in snippets.  Sometimes, we even hear the same snippets of songs, just sung at different venues.  It would’ve worked better had Gruen allowed the performances to play out in their entirety.  Whenever the numbers start to gain momentum, Gruen just cuts back to more ho-hum backstage shenanigans, which is frustrating.  I did like the addition of news footage about the band playing Max’s Kansas City though (featuring a none-too impressed Joel Siegel).  

Overall, All Dolled Up:  A New York Dolls Story feels less like a snapshot of the band as they reach the crest of their wave, and more like an assemblage of home movies.  Some fans won’t mind that approach.  In fact, it almost (but not quite) skates by from just featuring the band immortalized in all their glam glory.  Too bad Gruen barely scratches the surface as to what made The New York Dolls so great.  

SO YOUNG, SO LOVELY, SO VICIOUS… (1975) **

Angela (Gloria Guida) becomes upset when she learns her dad is about to marry Irene (Dagmar Lassander from Werewolf Woman).  She sets out to break the pair up by getting her boyfriend Sandro (Fred Robsahm) to seduce her.  Turns out, Irene fancies women more.  Angela then takes it upon herself to get her would-be stepmom in bed and get it all on film in order to break up the upcoming marriage. 

Directed by Sylvio (Amuck) Amadio, So Young, So Lovely, So Vicious… starts off great.  He gets a lot of mileage out of just letting the camera focus on Guida.  She has an undeniably sexy screen presence.  There are many scenes where she is just sitting there half-naked that are almost hypnotic to watch, thanks to her immeasurable beauty.  Lassander is equally hot as the older, more mature, but ever-so sultry stepmother. 

The film is at its best when it’s building up the sexual tension between the two women.  Unfortunately, all this build-up winds up being a big bust.  Not only does it take forever for the two ladies to consummate their burning desire, but by the time they finally get it on, we’re denied the big love scene between them!  Instead, all we get to see is nothing more than a handful of black and white photos!  What a rip-off! 

To make matters worse, the final act is soggy, soap opera-y, and predictable.  The long chase scene eats up a lot of screen time, and the conclusion tries for a big tragic finish, which is an awkward fit considering all the smut that came before.  Whenever Amadio is concentrating on the interactions between his two leading ladies, So Young, So Lovely, So Vicious… is scintillating stuff.  Too bad it’s ultimately all tease and no please. 

Amadio and Guida teamed up once again the following year with That Malicious Age. 

AKA:  Sins of Youth.

NORTHVILLE CEMETERY MASSACRE (1976) **

Watching Northville Cemetery Massacre, it’s apparent directors William Dear and Thomas L. Dyke walked out of Easy Rider and said to each other, “Hey!  That movie’s a success and they only killed two bikers in slow motion at the very end.  Let’s make a flick in which fifteen times that many bikers get shot up in slow motion throughout the entire film!  It’s bound to do fifteen times the amount of business!”  

That of course, was not the case.  As far as the biker genre goes, you can do a lot worse, that’s for sure.  However, Northville Cemetery Massacre is far from a good movie.  If it’s one thing this flick does well, it’s shoot up bikers in slow motion, so it does have that going for it.  Imagine if Sam Peckinpah had directed Hell’s Angels on Wheels and that might clue you in on what to expect.

A hippie hitches a ride with a biker gang and attends a wild biker wedding.  While the gang are hooting and hollering, he sneaks off to bang his girlfriend in a barn.  That’s when the cops show up and chase away the bikers.  The asshole cop in charge then takes it upon himself to rape the hippie’s girlfriend.  The cops blames the crime on the bikers and teams up with the girl’s grieving father to shoot a bunch of bikers in slow motion, mostly to cover his ass, but also because shooting bikers in slow motion takes up about a third of the running time.

Northville Cemetery Massacre is mostly notable for being the first collaboration between Dear and The Monkees’ Michael Nesmith.  The two later worked together on Elephant Parts, and another motorcycle-themed movie, Time Rider.  Even though Nesmith is my second favorite Monkee, the music in this isn’t particularly great and sounds about what you’d expect from your average biker flick.

Dear and Dyke don’t do much to keep the story progressing.  It pretty much plays its cards too soon and quickly gets repetitive from there.  By the time the big Massacre does happen, we’ve already grown numb to the sight of seeing bikers gushing blood and guts in slow-mo.  The open-ended ending is a bit of a cop out too, which is kind of a letdown considering all the carnage that came before.

Oh, and if the leading man’s voice sounds familiar, it’s because he was dubbed by none other than Nick Nolte!  

AKA:  Harley’s Angels.  AKA:  Freedom:  R.I.P.