TOP GUN: MAVERICK (2022) ****

Top Gun:  Maverick is as good as a thirty-six-years later sequel to an ‘80s classic could be.  There were so many ways this could’ve gone south, but what’s amazing about the movie is how it honors the past while still pushing the story and characters forward.  There have been a lot of so-called “legacy” sequels here lately that have been in such a hurry to pass the baton onto the new generation that they forget what made the baton special in the first place.  What’s great about Top Gun:  Maverick is that while Maverick (Tom Cruise) is now a flight instructor teaching the new crop of hot shot Navy pilots, he is very much still the heart of the film.  Yes, the young cast all have their moments to shine, but Cruise commands the screen so fiercely that you just know he is gonna hold onto that proverbial baton as long as he can.  

Yes, there are callbacks and/or updates to nearly all the beloved moments in the original.  Only a few of them feel gratuitously shoehorned in there (like the beach football game that is reminiscent of the iconic beach volleyball game in the first movie), but then again, if they weren’t there, it wouldn’t feel like Top Gun.  Everything you’d want to see in a Top Gun sequel is here.  Tom Cruise acting cocky and insubordinate, awesome aerial photography and dogfights, and pitch perfect masculine soap opera theatrics/male bonding scenes.  In fact, there is at least one scene that is genuinely moving.  It occurs when Val Kilmer shows up for his cameo.  If you’re a fan of Kilmer and are familiar with his recent battle with cancer, this scene will have an even bigger emotional impact.  His interactions with Cruise are just wonderful as the script plays upon their rivalry and respect for one another.  

It’s also aces in the action department.  The opening test pilot scene is a lot of fun, and the finale, which owes as much to Star Wars as it does Top Gun, is a pure adrenaline rush.  Top Gun:  Maverick not only flies high right from the get-go, but it manages to soar higher than it has any right to.  Not only that, but it also manages to stick the landing too.  

I think I better stop the review here before I work in any more flying puns, but before I do, just know that Top Gun:  Maverick is just as good, if not better than the original, which is about the highest praise I can bestow upon a movie.

AMERICAN BOY: A PROFILE OF – STEVEN PRINCE (1978) **

Director Martin Scorsese was friends with actor Steven Prince and cast him in the small but memorable role of the gun salesman in Taxi Driver.  A year later, he caught back up with Prince for this short documentary about his life.  At a mutual friend’s house, they sit on a couch as Prince spins yarns about his family, work, and (mostly) drug use while Scorsese’s camera rolls.

This must’ve been fun for Scorsese as the movie is essentially a filmed get together with friends shooting the shit and telling stories.  The audience, however, may be underwhelmed as Prince’s anecdotes are hit-and-miss to say the least.  They run the gamut of funny, to sad, to just plain bizarre.  He’s a gifted storyteller to be sure, but it’s ultimately more satisfying for Scorsese and his buddies than for the audience.  

The fact that many of his stories eventually circle back around to his drug use is what kind makes it a chore to sit through.  If you were at a party with Prince, one or two of these tales would probably be about all you could take before you had to excuse yourself to get a drink.  Since this is a movie, you’re pretty much forced to sit there and listen to him yammer on and on.  Even though the picture clocks in at a scant fifty-five minutes, it often feels much longer thanks to its repetitive nature.

I’m a die-hard Scorsese fan, but for me, American Boy:  A Profile of – Steven Prince is one of his slightest and least interesting works.  However, it’s still of note, if only because one of Prince’s stories about administering an adrenaline shot to an overdosed junkie was later dramatized by Quentin Tarantino in Pulp Fiction.  Other than that, it’s not very memorable.  

Scorsese caught up with Prince thirty years later for the sequel, American Prince.

AKA:  American Boy.

QUEEN OF THE DESERT (2017) ** ½

Werner Herzog’s Queen of the Desert tells the true-life story of Gertrude Bell (Nicole Kidman), writer, explorer, and adventurer.  After the tragic death of her fiancé (James Franco), Gertrude travels to the Middle East to find herself.  Upon returning home, the naturally restless and curious Bell time and again returns to the desert for more misadventures.  

Queen of the Desert will never be mistaken for one of Herzog’s best.  Although it follows the same themes as a lot of his work (namely a prim and proper person traipsing through a harsh landscape), it’s just too laid back and prosaic to really knock your socks off.  Most of Herzog’s lead characters are obsessed, mad, or obsessed to the point of madness.  Bell is basically just a headstrong woman following her own star.  Because of that, the film doesn’t cast the same spell as Herzog’s most memorable work.  

That said, even when he’s having an off day, Herzog is still pretty good.  The film remains watchable, even if it stops short of being completely captivating.  Part of that has to do with the pacing, which is episodic to a fault.  Bell will have some kind of personal setback, go out into the desert, find herself, return home, and then head on back out into the desert again.  Luckily, these passages are entertaining more often than not.

It helps that the performances are solid.  Kidman makes an ideal leading lady for this sort of thing.  The character is equal parts high society debutante and well-traveled explorer, and Kidman does a fine job essaying both aspects of the character.  Robert Pattinson is particularly amusing as Lawrence of Arabia, who lends Bell a hand on one of her adventures.  Damien Lewis is also quite good as the reserved married man who carries a torch for Bell.  Only Franco feels out of place playing the downtrodden, doomed fiancé.   

IMPULSE (1984) *** ½

After her mother’s attempted suicide, dancer Meg Tilly returns to her small hometown with her doctor boyfriend (Tim Matheson) in tow.  It doesn’t take long for them to discover that something is seriously wrong with the townsfolk.  It seems they are suffering from a severe impulse control problem, which leads to public fornication, extreme cases of road rage, and eventually, murder.  

Impulse is a simple, tense, and taut variation on George Romero’s The Crazies, and to a lesser extent, David Cronenberg’s They Came from Within.  There is also a little touch of various Stephen King books in there as well as the idea of a small town slowly becoming unglued was a common theme in his work.  Even though the film utilizes elements from those masters of horror, it still finds a way to be unique and most importantly, effective.  In fact, it might work even better now than it did at the time of its original release thanks to COVID.  (There’s also a scene where a cop mows down a kid in cold blood, and the citizens are more outraged at the destruction of their property than his death that certainly registers harder now than when it was made.)

Director Graham (The Final Conflict) Baker delivers a number of unnerving scenes that are usually punctuated with unexpected violence, mutilation, or just plain weirdness.  While Baker uses restraint for a lot of these sequences, the way he stages the set-ups and the payoffs work rather well.  

Baker’s direction, coupled with the fine performances make Impulse well-worth checking out.  The two leads are ideally cast.  Tilly is excellent as the waifish city girl returning home to her roots and Matheson is equally great as her boyfriend who may or may not have a touch of the sickness himself.  The always great Bill Paxton also pops up in the smallish role of Tilly’s brother, and it’s especially fun to see a folksy nice guy like Hume Cronyn succumbing to the madness.  

THE LAST SENTINEL (2009) * ½

The Last Sentinel is a cruddy mash-up of Soldier, The Terminator, and The Last Man on Earth.  Don “The Dragon” Wilson stars as the Kurt Russell/Michael Biehn/Vincent Price stand-in, a genetically engineered soldier who wanders the post-apocalyptic wasteland foraging for supplies and avoiding detection by the bands of robot soldiers that patrol the streets.  Sometimes, to break up the monotony, he’ll have a flashback to Keith David yelling at him or Bokeem Woodbine dying.  Oh yeah, and his gun talks to him.  

Directed by Jesse V. Johnson, The Last Sentinel is a mess.  It’s choppy, sloppy, and not a whole lot of fun.  The action is pretty generic too, which is fitting since the villains are equally generic.  (The robots all look like dudes in black leather and motorcycle helmets.)  That would be okay if it was just generic, but since this was a mid-‘00s action flick, that means the camera shakes unnecessarily during the action (especially in the flashbacks), which is supposed to lend some kind of urgency to the proceedings, but all it does it give the viewer a headache. 

It doesn’t help that Wilson is miscast as the stone-faced super soldier.  He’s usually entertaining whenever he’s playing the affable kickboxing leading man.  He’s noticeably less effective here playing a morose, monotone, world-weary type.  Further adding to the movie’s woes is its repetitive nature.  Wilson will meditate in his library lair, go out looking for supplies, get into a gunfight with robots in a boiler room, and then head back home.  

At least Katee Sackhoff infuses the movie with a little spark once she finally shows up as the leader of the human resistance.  She doesn’t come close to saving the film, but at the very least, she makes it watchable.  (It’s no wonder they put her on the DVD cover rather than Wilson.)

AKA:  Robo Terminators.  AKA:  Last Soldier.  

THE BLACK HOLE (2006) **

This has nothing to do with Walt Disney’s 1979 The Black Hole.  It’s actually a cheesy ‘00s SyFy Channel Original produced by Nu Image.  As far as these things go, it’s not bad.  

Judd Nelson is a scientist who drank his way out of a quantum physics thinktank.  Naturally, when the lab creates a black hole that threatens St. Louis, his former flame and fellow scientist (Kristy Swanson) calls him in to find a way to stop it.  Complicating matters is the appearance of an electricity monster that periodically escapes the black hole and vaporizes random security guards and other expendable personnel.  Naturally, the military want to drop a nuclear bomb into the black hole (that’s their solution for everything), and it’s up to Judd and Kristy to save the day.

This has all the earmarks to be plodding junk, but director Tibor (The Gate) Takacs is able to inject a little momentum into the proceedings.  I’m not saying he set the world on fire with this one, but it’s about what you would expect from the SyFy Channel at two in the afternoon on a lazy Sunday afternoon.  Anyone expecting anything more from it should probably get their head examined.  Then again, you should already know what you’re signing yourself up for when you see Kristy Swanson playing a quantum physicist.  

The problems really rest at the script level.  It’s almost as if the producers didn’t think the whole disaster movie idea of a black hole threatening a major city would sustain a two-hour time slot, so they penciled in the monster from another dimension just to hedge their bets.  The creature is OK, I guess?  He kind of looks like a cross between an invisible Predator and the electricity Gremlin from Gremlins 2, but he’s not exactly a worthy villain if Judd freakin’ Nelson can take him down.  I did like the way he vaporized his victims a la Mars Attacks though. 

In short, The Black Hole does suck, but not nearly as much as it might have. 

GOLDILOCKS AND THE THREE BARES (1963) * ½

William Kerwin and Rex Marlow star as two nightclub performers who wonder why their respective girlfriends are always busy on weekends.  They do some snooping and eventually discover their gal pals are nudists.  Outraged, the two doofuses dumbly dump their dames.  However, the lovely ladies give their finicky fellas a shot at redemption and offer them a chance to spend the weekend at the camp to see how the other (naked) half lives.  

From the title, you’d think this is gonna be a nudist version of the old storybook favorite.  In actuality, it’s the first (or advertised as the first, anyway) nudie musical.  The problem, of course, is there’s way too much musical and not enough nudie.  

That’s right, before you even get a glimpse of skin, you have to sit through a lot of long, dumb nightclub acts.  Kerwin was great in Blood Feast and all, but a comedian he’s not.  His painfully unfunny stand-up act is a chore to get through and Marlow’s crooner numbers are even worse.  If that nonsense wasn’t already enough, director Herschell Gordon Lewis uses even more pointless stalling tactics that get in the way of the good stuff including long driving scenes, silent comedy sequences, and domestic squabbling that is sure to get on anyone’s nerves.  

In fact, you have to wait till the movie’s halfway over before you get to the nudism stuff.  As far as nudist camp movies go, the nudism scenes are OK.  We get:  Skinny-dipping, nude photography, nude swinging (no, not that kind), sunbathing, horseback riding (what, no Lady Godiva jokes?), water basketball (called “splash-ket ball”), boating, and a nude talent show.  At the very least, leading lady Louise Downe (who also wrote Blood Feast) does look great nude (especially while jiggling around on horseback), so that does help somewhat.  

Then again, it’s just a shame that the title is so misleading.  I mean the idea of a nudie Goldilocks movie could’ve really been something.  Imagine, she sneaks into the bears’ house and walks in on Mama Bare and Papa Bare making love in the bedroom and says, “Oh that bed’s just right!” before joining in for a three-way.  Unfortunately, Lewis and company didn’t follow through on the promise of the title and gave us this crap instead.  

Marlow gets the best line when he tells his girlfriend, “E-X-I-T!  That spells, ‘OUT’!”

AKA:  Goldilocks’ Three Chicks.