STEAMBOAT BILL, JR. (1928) ***

Steamboat Bill (Ernest Torrence) is a crusty steamboat captain who receives word his long-lost son will come visit him during college break.  He is disappointed to learn that Steamboat Bill, Jr. (Buster Keaton) is a meek, scrawny, and bookish lad.  Complicating matters is the fact that Junior’s college sweetheart (Marion Bryon) just so happens to be the daughter of J.J. King (Tom McGuire), Steamboat Bill’s chief rival on the river.  Despite their differences, Junior proves himself to his old man, who eventually takes a shine to his son. 

The first forty-five minutes or so is kind of slow, but it does offer some cute moments and a handful of chuckles.  Some of the highlights include Buster getting a shave, buying a hat, and trying to break his dad out of jail.  While the story is predictable, it’s all held together by the great performance by “The Great Stone Face”, Keaton.  There’s something sweet about him impressing his stubborn father by just being himself and doing things his own way.  Their interactions are genuine too and there is considerable chemistry between Keaton and Torrence. 

There’s also a touching humanity to Keaton’s pratfalls.  These scenes aren’t just meant to get a laugh.  They’re very much a part of the character. 

Of course, the iconic scene is when a house falls on top of Keaton, but he just so happens to be standing where the open window is, and it never touches him.  This scene has been copied so many times over the years that it’s amazing that the original version still holds up so well.  Equally impressive, though not nearly talked about, is the part where Keaton is clinging to a tree for dear life when it’s uprooted and goes flying through the air with him still attached.  The scenes of hurricane devastation with buildings being blown away are extremely well done and the part where he tries to run against the wind is funny too.  These sequences make up for some of the hiccups that occur in the first two acts.   

In short, I can’t say Steamboat Bill, Jr. is quite as good as The General, but it’s still worth checking out. 

DEADLINE (1984) *** ½

Stephen Lessey (Stephen Young) is a popular horror writer who is constantly pressured to top himself, so he comes up with wilder and sicker stories to scare his readers.  Many object to his tasteless material, but he is steadfast that he is providing his readers a public service.  Meanwhile, his marriage is crumbling, his kids are becoming a handful, and he is possibly having a breakdown.  When tragedy strikes his family, his world further spirals out of control.    

The choppy narrative is the only real stumbling block to this otherwise dark, depressing, and deranged horror thriller.  The vignettes that represent Lessey’s stories intrude (sometimes violently) on the scenes of his work, family, and marital strife.  The continuous shifting focus is meant to throw the audience off guard and keep them on their toes, but it sometimes makes for a frustrating viewing experience.

The bottom line is that these sequences are often insane, bizarre, and deeply disturbing.  A woman is killed by a shower that shoots blood, a pregnant mother is murdered by her own fetus in the delivery room, and kids tie up and set fire to their clueless old grandmother.  The best sequence is when an evil Nazi scientist uses punk rock music to blow up homeless people. 

Deadline is uneven to be sure.  Nevertheless, it’s sort of fascinating.  The film is obviously an anti-horror statement, as it blames real-life tragedy squarely on horror movies and the people who make them.  Because of that, they use every sick trick in the book to prove their point and shock you, and I have to admit, it works. 

This is one ugly and mean-spirited movie.  The senseless depictions of children dying are especially a bit much.  However, the way director Mario Azzopardi pulls out all the stops is really something to behold.  While depraved and reprehensible, Deadline has a number of shocking moments.  They are low blows to be sure, but they’re effective, nevertheless.  The final act is a depressing headlong plunge into despair and degeneracy, the depths of which few films plumb. 

It’s been a while since a movie made me jump.  It’s been even longer since one actually shocked me.  Deadline did both.  Because of that, I just have to tip my hat to it, even if it does play dirty. 

DOC SAVAGE: THE MAN OF BRONZE (1975) ****

You know, even in 1975, Doc Savage:  The Man of Bronze probably felt dated and cheesy.  It’s an unabashed throwback to the pulp adventures of the ‘30s.  It was not a hit when it was released, but looking at it now, it’s a refreshing change of pace next to the dreary, self-important, and “dark” superhero movies of the modern era. 

Speaking of superheroes, it’s hard to imagine what they would be like today if it hadn’t been for Doc Savage.  You see, Doc lived in a fortress of solitude before Superman, had a swanky secret hideout that I’m sure Batman modeled his Batcave on, and picked up on bad vibrations long before Spider-Man and his “Spider-Sense”.  He even has some pretty cool gadgets that I’m sure would make James Bond envious.  (There are some cheesy ones too, like the “Extinguisher Globes” that are nothing more that high-powered snowballs.) 

Doc Savage (Ron Ely) learns his father has been murdered in a jungle.  Along with his team of multi-talented war buddies, “The Fabulous Five”, he sets out to find his father’s killer.  He winds up tangling with the evil Captain Seas (Paul Wexler) and finds himself on a path to a lost city of gold.    

This is the kind of flick that I enjoy.  It’s square but sincere.  Cheesy but straight-faced.  Action sequences involve a Red Baron-style dogfight, glowing snake attacks, and a Kung Fu battle in which all the names of the fighting styles appear at the bottom of the screen.  I had a big grin on my face the whole damn time. 

You pretty much know what you’re in for during the opening credits when Ely looks at the camera and winks with a twinkle in his eye.  Not many people could pull that feat off:  Simultaneously winking at the camera and playing it with complete sincerity.  Ely is certainly one of them.  I guess it was all those years wearing a loincloth as Tarzan that prepared him for it.

The supporting cast is good too.  We have Paul Gleason as Doc’s right-hand man, Michael Berryman (making his film debut) as a coroner, William Katt as an assassin, and Robert Tessier as a henchman.  It’s the ladies in the cast who are the most memorable.  Robyn Hilton, who was just in Blazing Saddles as Mel Brooks’ secretary the year before, looks amazing as the bad guy’s arm candy, and Buck Rogers’ Pamela Hensley (a childhood crush of mine) is stunning as Doc’s sexy jungle guide.

To some, Doc may be a square hero as he doesn’t drink or smoke (and is apparently celibate), but I for one appreciated his old-fashioned value system.  The themes by John Phillip Sousa on the soundtrack highlights not only the throwback nature of the film, but also the rah-rah jingoism of the old timey adventure novels and movies.  I guess people in the ‘70s were just too jaded to have a fucking good time.

Another way it was a forerunner to modern-day comic book movies:  It sets itself up for a sequel at the end.  Sadly, we never got another Doc Savage adventure.  Shane Black has been talking up a new version for years starring The Rock, which would be spot-on casting if you ask me.  Whether or not we get a 21^st Doc Savage adaptation I can’t say.  Until then, this awesome adventure should tide us over.

THE TAKING OF BEVERLY HILLS (1991) *** ½

Director Sidney J. Furie’s The Taking of Beverly Hills sat on the shelf for over two years, but even when it was finally released, it still emerged as one of the earliest examples of a Die Hard in a _______ movie.  This time, instead of Die Hard in a building, we have Die Hard in a… Beverly Hills.  That means when it comes time for the big car chase, the hero drives a Rolls Royce instead of the typical muscle car.  If you can’t already tell, this thing is fucking classy.

Ken (The Soldier) Wahl stars as a football player named Boomer.  When a tanker truck overturns and causes a major chemical spill, Beverly Hills is evacuated.  Boomer didn’t get the memo because he was locked in his luxurious mansion soaking in his hot tub.  The chemical spill is just a cover so a bunch of dirty cops can loot and pillage Beverly Hills.  Naturally, this leads to the typical “Wrong Guy at the Wrong Place at the Wrong Time” scenario, and Boomer must team up with a bumbling cop (Matt Frewer) to bring down the bad guys. 

The Taking of Beverly Hills is enormously entertaining as far as this sort of thing goes.  The direction is capable, the action is non-stop, the pacing is brisk, and lots of stuff blows up real good.  The thing that puts it over the top is the incredible cast.  We have Robert Davi as the villain, Lee Ving as his henchman, and Harley Jane Kozak as the love interest.  Wahl is in his element as the hero who utilizes his football skills to combat the bad guys.  (“I’m a master at moving downfield… and they don’t know I’m in the game!”)  He uses tackling dummies to toss bad guys out of windows, runs down Rodeo Drive past gunmen like he’s avoiding the opposing team’s defense, and tosses bombs into speeding cars like he’s throwing Hail Mary passes.  He also has a spectacular mullet. 

In short, Boomer is a Video Vacuum kind of guy.

The big stumbling block is Frewer as the comic relief tagalong sidekick.  I’m usually a big Frewer fan, but he’s pretty annoying and his quips aren’t very funny.  He should’ve been relegated to the sidelines (to keep the football theme going) and Wahl should’ve flown solo on this one.  I think it would’ve made for a tighter picture. 

Frewer’s annoying character aside, The Taking of Beverly Hills is a gloriously dumb, ridiculously entertaining good time.  It may be derivative, but it’s just so goofy that it’s hard not to enjoy it.  Look, you’re either the kind of person who wants to see Ken Wahl carrying Ninja stars around in a designer handbag and tossing them into bad guys while Faith No More’s “Epic” blares on the soundtrack, or you aren’t.

Wahl only made one more picture before retiring from acting in the late ‘90s.  Shortly thereafter, he went on to marry one of the Barbi Twins and devoted much of his time to charity work.  I wish he was still making movies like this, but it seems like he is busy living his best life, and I can respect that.  I wish him all the best.    

IDENTITY THIEF (2013) * ½

I’m sure buried somewhere down deep is a fine actress, but for the most part, Melissa McCarthy is often typecast as abrasive, annoying, and obnoxious loudmouth characters.  The box office receipts prove that there is an audience for her brand of humor, but I find her usual screen persona to be off-putting and unfunny.  Identity Thief did not make me a convert. 

Jason Bateman stars as a family man whose credit, job, and life is ruined by an identity thief (McCarthy).  When the cops prove to be ineffectual, he travels to Florida to find her and bring her before the authorities.  Naturally, she’s also wanted by a gang of criminals, which puts a definite crimp in their road trip. 

Directed by Seth Gordon (who also worked with Bateman in the much better Horrible Bosses), Identity Thief gets off to a decent start.  There is something sort of satisfying about turning the tables on someone who did you wrong, and that idea could’ve made for a pretty funny movie.  Sadly, after about a half-hour, that plotline is dropped as the film turns into a road movie with Bateman and McCarthy dodging bad guys, bounty hunters, and the police.

Most of the time, we are subjected to McCarthy’s painfully unfunny antics, which is the major dealbreaker.  The long scenes of she and Bateman driving are unbearable (especially when she sings along with the radio).  Bateman gets one or two laughs from his exasperated looks and/or throwaway insults, but he’s basically more of an audience surrogate than a real character.  It’s also a shame to see the always lovely Amanda Peet being wasted in the typical wife role.

Things really fall apart when the movie tries to make you feel sorry for McCarthy’s character.  She’s a thief and a fraud who ruined our hero’s life and all of a sudden, they expect us to sympathize with her?  There’s no way I could possibly identify with this thief.  Ha.  See what I did there?

HUNTER’S BLOOD (1986) ***

Sam Bottoms, Clu Gulager, and his hunting buddies take city boy Joey Travolta out into the woods on a deer hunting trip in this entertaining Deliverance clone.  Along the way, they anger some local rednecks in a bar and get into a brawl.  Once in the woods, they are attacked by a tribe of inbred hillbillies who use the woods as their private poaching ground.  They try to pick the hunting party off one by one until Sam digs deep and turns the tables on those backwoods loonies.

Hunter’s Blood suffers from some erratic pacing and deliberate stalling tactics.  However, the cast is so great that you can easily savor their presence even when the movie is spinning its wheels.  The villains are especially well-cast.  Any inbred crew that contains Billy Drago, Bruce Glover, and Mickey Jones is one to watch out for.  We also have the great Charles Cyphers as the ringleader who works at a meat packing plant, and there’s even Billy Bob Thornton making his film debut in a blink-and-you-miss-it appearance. 

I’ve always had a soft spot in my heart for Joey Travolta.  He should’ve been at least half as huge as his brother John.  He delivers a great performance as the clueless city putz who’s in way over his head. 

Sure, it may be a tad overlong, but the deaths are pretty gruesome.  Some moments resemble an Italian cannibal movie are there are severed heads, skinned bodies, and a great exploded head gag.  The scenes of Sam Bottoms going all kinds of Rambo on a bunch of character actors in the wilderness are enormously crowd-pleasing too.

Besides, how many times do you get to see Clu Gulager defending Joey Travolta’s honor from the likes of a horny Billy Drago?

Also noteworthy:  The soundtrack, which is composed by Hamilton, Joe Frank, and… uh… Weber?  Remember Hamilton, Joe Frank, and Reynolds of “Don’t Pull Your Love” fame?  Well, Reynolds must’ve pulled his love out on the band by this time in their career as he’s nowhere to be found.  Let me tell you something:  Weber is no Reynolds.  I guess Hamilton and Joe Frank COULD’VE gone on as a duo, but they realized they were nothing without that third name on the marquee.

Although the cast is packed with lots of big names, it is Ken Swofford who has the best line of the movie.  While pontificating on the importance of hunting and masculinity, he says, “A man’s gotta feel his balls!” 

WOLFMAN (1979) * ½

Colin (Earl Owensby, who also produced) receives word his long-estranged father has died.  He returns home to get his deceased dad’s affairs in order.  While staying in the house, a Satanic priest (Ed Grady) curses him to become a werewolf.  The poor dope then goes around during the full moon, changing into a wolf and killing people before eventually he and the sinister priest tangle mano y wolf-o. 

Wolfman seems like a low budget, regional, American attempt to do the same thing Paul Naschy was doing with his Waldemar Daninsky werewolf movies.  It’s a period piece with old school werewolf make-up and transformation scenes.  This wouldn’t be the worst idea if it wasn’t so fucking dull. 

The make-up design is decent.  It resembles Naschy’s werewolf, except the hair is a bit more trimmed and slicked back.  The transformation scenes aren’t bad either, but they do feel a bit rushed, so you can’t really savor them.  The attack scenes are OK too. 

So, what’s the problem?  It’s extremely slow moving.  While the wolfman shenanigans are kinda fun, they are a long time coming.  The droning soundtrack and the long-winded dialogue scenes will probably put your ass to sleep long before Owensby starts sprouting hair. 

In the meantime, you have to deal with a lot of amateurish acting.  Owensby is particularly bad in the lead.  He seems more like a slow-witted county bumpkin than a lycanthropic leading man.

Not only are the transformation scenes rushed, but so is the climax.  The big confrontation takes place in an attic where the werewolf and evil priest square off.  Naturally, the idiot chose to go toe to back paw with the guy just as the moon is on the rise.  Adding insult to injury is the fact that the moon is played by a spotlight in this scene.  You know a werewolf movie is cheap when they can’t even afford to put the actual moon in there.

Writer/director Worth Keeter (who collaborated with Owensby several more times) later went on to direct erotic thrillers like Illicit Behavior and Snapdragon.

AKA:  Wolfman:  A Lycanthrope.