THE COLLECTOR (2009) **

A thief named Arkin (Josh Stewart) must crack his employers’ safe to get the dough necessary to pay off his ex-wife’s debt.  Once he breaks in, he finds the place isn’t what it appears to be.  Someone else is in there and has set deadly booby traps throughout the home.  He then must try to save the family before they fall prey to a black-masked killer (Juan Fernandez) who “collects” his victims.  

The Collector was the brainchild of Feast and Saw sequel writers Marcus Dunstan and Patrick Melton.  It’s a grisly, yet generic mix of Saw, Don’t Breathe, and (checks notes) Home Alone.  It’s certainly has some grisly moments (there’s a gnarly bear trap scene) and touches of surprising atmosphere in the early scenes.  (There are shots that evoke both Argento and De Palma.)  

Once the action switches to the house, it becomes yet another darkened, dreary, unimaginative torture porn-type of horror flick.  The solid set-up eventually gives way to ho-hum execution and the doldrums set in well before the finale.  Dunstan shows enough promise as a director in the early scenes though to make you want to see something else from him down the road.  

The script however leaves a little something to be desired.  Dunstan and Melton originally conceived it to be a prequel to Saw, but they reworked it to be its own thing.  I guess if you could excuse the rampant lapses in logic (like how the hell the Collector could rig up all those elaborate traps on such short notice) and eye-rolling clichés in the third act, you might find this one worthy of your collection.

DUMBO (2019) *** ½

Ever since I was a kid, Dumbo has been my favorite Disney movie.  As a teenager, it resonated even more.  Dumbo was relentlessly teased and bullied by his peers and the only way he dealt with it was to get drunk and wake up the next morning in a tree.  I can relate.  (I never quite got to the point where I was able to rise above the bullies and reign down a hail of fire-roasted peanuts on my tormentors though.)

The good news is, I can relate to this new Dumbo just as much.  It’s quite an inspirational tale.  It’s the film that shows us that if you try your best to overcome the obstacles life throws at you, one day Eva Green will climb on top of you and ride you like there’s no tomorrow.  I think there’s a message there for all of us.  

Tim Burton’s take on the Disney classic hits the familiar beats from the original.  The big difference is that the human characters are split 50-50 in the good and evil department.  In the original, they were pretty much bastards all around.  

Instead of Timothy (who at least has a cameo) as Dumbo’s best pal and champion, we have Colin Farrell and his kids.  Farrell comes home from the war missing an arm, with his career in the circus uncertain.  He gets put in charge of the elephants, and it’s up to him and his kids to make sure the big-eared elephant Dumbo is their next star attraction.  

The first half sticks fairly close to the original.  (There were no singing crows, though.)  I especially loved the way the old songs creeped into Danny Elfman’s score (especially “Casey Jr.”).  The second half, in which the circus gets bought out by a big corporation who wants to exploit Dumbo isn’t nearly as good, but it’s not without its charms.  I guess Burton’s message is that even if a major conglomerate owns your ass, you can still be an edgy outcast who is able to flourish and (literally) rise above your confines.    

As much as I love the original, I was glad this wasn’t a shot-for-shot remake, like what that newfangled Aladdin looks to be.  This is Tim Burton’s take on the classic tale.  There is one sequence in particular (the escape from “Devil’s Island”) that is one of the most Tim Burton-y things Tim Burton has ever done.  

The big emotional beats are taken from the original.  The new stuff is sweet and all, but not a patch on the original.  That said, those heart-tugging moments still work (mostly because the CGI Dumbo is freaking adorable), and the “Baby Mine” sequence has the power to get the waterworks going with minimum effort.  

The human cast, superfluous as they are, are still quite good.  Green is great as the trapeze artist who goes from corporate arm candy to carny mother hen.  Farrell is strong as the family man hesitant to step up and become a leader.  Danny DeVito is fun as the crotchety ringleader who’s tempted by the almighty dollar.  

Michael Keaton is probably the most interesting as the evil sleazebag.  If you notice, his accent slightly changes from scene to scene.  Sometimes he sounds French, other times, English.  Heck, there are times when you don’t know where his accent is from.  It sort of clues you in that this guy is a phony from the get-go.  

The best scene though is a cameo (which I will not spoil) that is so gratuitous, outlandish, and out of place that it almost feels like it came out of an episode of The Simpsons.  It’s so crazy that it almost takes you out of the movie.  However, it is quite hilarious (one of the biggest I’ve had at the movies in some time), so I’ll allow it.

CECILIA (1983) ** ½

The titles say Cecilia is “Jesus Franco’s Film”, but there’s also a card earlier that reads “Directed by Olivier Mathot”.  It definitely has all the pointless zooms (including one into the crotch of a cherub statue) and rampant nudity Franco is known for.  Mathot (who also appears in a supporting role) also helped Franco direct Diamonds of Kilimanjaro, so I guess it’s legit.  I’m not sure how much Mathot brought to the table, but Cecilia is a decent enough Franco/Mathot outing.  

Cecilia (Muriel Montosse) is a bored, wealthy woman who gets her kicks from stripping in the back of her limo and letting her chauffeur watch in the rear-view mirror while droning organ music plays on the soundtrack.  He gets tired of her endless teasing, so he picks up his brothers (who were fired by Cecilia for spying on her while undressing) for an unscheduled gangbang.  When she returns home, Cecilia confides to her husband (Antonio Mayans) about the attack.  He’s at first appalled by her casualness in enjoying the encounter, but she assures him, she’s more than happy to allow him to go off on his own sexual misadventures.  Eventually, all their promiscuousness threatens to pull them apart.

The opening sequence immediately gets your attention.  As with Diary of a Nymphomaniac, the rest of the movie has a hard time keeping up that level of excellence.  In fact, it’s all sort of a formless mishmash of half-assed flashbacks and sex scenes.  Some are good, like when Cecilia catches her husband making love to a woman and eventually joins in.  Others never really work up any rhythm or intensity.

Still, there’s enough Franco weirdness here to make it memorable.  There’s an orgy scene where a swami (who has eyeballs painted on his eyelids) sits crisscross-applesauce and meditates while getting a blowjob from Lina Romay.  We learn after the fact they’re a mother-son act (!) which adds to the overall oddness of the scene.  

Montosse’s willingness to parade around naked is appreciated.  Whether she’s getting into gangbangs, wandering around nude, or riding naked horseback on the beach, she’s quite a sight to behold.  Romay is equally fun to watch, although her role is rather small.

Cecilia is overlong to a fault.  It gets particularly rambling and unfocused in the third act.  The music often sounds like it came out of a skating rink, which does the sex scenes no favors.  Regardless, folks frenzying for a Franco fix will find fleeting fun from it.  

AKA:  Diary of a Desperate Housewife.  AKA:  Sexual Aberrations of a Housewife.

DIARY OF A NYMPHOMANIAC (1973) ***

Cortez (Manuel Pereiro) watches a girl on girl show in a nightclub.  A sexy prostitute named Linda (Montserrat Prous) picks him and they go back to her hotel for some drunken sex.  Things get complicated when she calls the police to report her own murder!  

People can say what they will about Jess Franco, but this set-up is worthy of Hitchcock.  I’m not saying Franco executes it as well as The Master.  However, the opening has an undeniable kick to it.  

The rest of the plot revolves around Cortez’s wife Rosa (Jacqueline Lauret) searching for Linda’s diary, which might just prove her husband’s innocence.  When Rosa reads the diary, she learns of the poor girl’s descent into the seamy world of prostitutes and strippers.  Meanwhile, we see flashbacks of Linda’s checkered past and learn how she came into her profession.  

This all sort of threatens to spin out of control, especially during the last act where Prous begins to get caught up in drugs.  Despite that, there’s enough Franco goodness here for fans to gravitate to.  The opening lesbian club scene is classic Franco (who also appears as a police captain who sits in an office that is nothing more than a poorly disguised hotel room).  Women roll around in ecstasy under red lights for a static camera until it all achieves an almost Zen quality.  Sure, there are moments where he uses unnecessary zooms and weird camera placements, but there’s at least one Ferris wheel shot that feels right out of The Third Man.

So far, I’ve compared Franco’s work in this movie to Alfred Hitchcock and Carrol Reed.  Make of that what you will.  Those hoping for a typical Franco sleaze-fest may be disappointed.  Those hoping for evidence that Franco was capable of more than a typical sleaze-fest will not.  (Although, to be sure, there is plenty of sleaze here.)  I’m not saying it all works.  The narrative is choppy, and the film never quite tops that doozy of an opening sequence.  Warts and all, Diary of a Nymphomaniac has enough eye-popping moments for Francophiles to enjoy.

Franco vet Howard Vernon appears late in the game as a doctor who gets the best line of the movie.  He tries to help our poor little nymphomaniac, and when she doesn’t respond to the treatment, he says, “Since you’re nothing more than a prostitute, you’re going to pay my bill like a prostitute!”  

AKA:  Sinner.  AKA:  Sinner:  The Secret Diary of a Nymphomaniac.  

AROUND THE WORLD WITH FANNY HILL (1974) ** ½

In director Mac Ahlberg’s sequel to 1968’s Fanny Hill, Fanny (Shirley Corrigan, taking over for Diana Kjaer) becomes unhappy in her marriage and wants a divorce from her commercial director husband Roger (Peter Bonke).  She gets her girlfriend Monica (Gaby Fuchs) to seduce Roger, so she can catch him in the act.  Together, they take the alimony and fund a trip to Hollywood.  They visit the Chinese Theater (playing The Long Goodbye) and Fanny sets her sights on getting it on with a famous actor.  She winds up being discovered, gets a big acting role, and goes from Hong Kong to Venice with the movie crew.  Along the way, Fanny wonders if she didn’t make a mistake by dumping Roger.

Around the World with Fanny Hill is a typically uneven Swedish sex comedy.  It has the same basic set-ups as most bedroom farces.  (Like the scene where Fanny tries to catch Roger in bed with Monica, unaware he’s already in bed with someone else.)  Even though the locations change, Fanny’s shenanigans get repetitive after a while.  Many of her sexual misadventures stop short of being laugh-out-loud funny, but the scene where Fanny poses as a man to seduce a bisexual marquis is quite amusing.  Too bad it ends abruptly just when it was picking up steam.

The third act kicks off with a big swinging orgy that offers up plenty of free love and nudity, although it’s not exactly hot or anything.  This is followed by a fast-motion comedy scene of Fanny trying to catch various officials in compromising positions that’s not very funny.  In fact, this the whole sequence probably could’ve been cut altogether and saved us all about ten minutes.  

Corrigan is fun to watch.  She spends a lot of time winding up naked and being found in compromising positions.  Her efforts keep you involved even when the tired comedy sputters out.  We also get to see the ever-enchanting Christina (Thriller:  A Cruel Picture) Lindberg popping up in a bit part as one of Bonke’s models.

Ahlberg went on to be the cinematographer for everyone from Charles Band to John Landis.  

AKA:  Around the World with Sex.

THE PRINCE (2014) ** ½

Jason Patric stars as a seemingly ordinary mechanic whose daughter (Gina Mantegna) disappears without a trace.  He gets her friend (Jessica Lowndes) to help him look for her down in New Orleans.  He quickly stirs up a shitstorm of attention from beating up pushers left and right, which catches the eye of mobster Bruce Willis.  Because of the Seemingly Unrelated but Very Important Opening Scene, we know the two have unfinished business together, and it’s only a matter of time before they’re on a collision course.  

The very appearance of Bruce Willis and John Cusack in a DTV movie often will be the subject of derision.  Both men have been accused of not giving a shit recently.  I can’t say it’s the best work of either of them, but they look like they’re trying a bit harder than they’ve been given credit for.  

Willis seems more engaged than he’s been in a while, especially in the early scenes with his young daughter.  He reverts to Scowling Bruce later in the film, but he stops short of going into cruise control.  Likewise, Cusack (who plays one of Patric’s old street cronies) tries a smidge harder than his recent output would suggest.  In most of his newer movies, he shows up wearing either a ballcap, sunglasses, or hoodie.  In The Prince, he sports a hoodie, but it stays down throughout the course of the picture.  That’s a metaphor for his effort or some shit.

Is it sad that I just spent an entire paragraph assuring you that two-thirds of the leading men are trying?  Probably.  To DTV devotees like myself, it’s a signpost of sorts to let you know the level of quality we’re dealing with.  As such, The Prince is better than expected  

Oh.  Would it surprise you that Jonathon Schaech and 50 Cent are also in this movie?  Probably not.

I haven’t even mentioned Patric, who is excellent.  He particularly excels in the first act where he goes all kinds of Taken on a bunch of hoods.  Some could accuse Willis and Cusack of phoning it in, but Patric came to fucking play.  He’s intense, brooding, and is quite credible in his ass-kicking scenes.

Director Brian A. Miller handles the various shootouts and fight scenes competently enough.  Only a rough looking car chase suffers from the typical DTV ADD over-editing and herky-jerky camerawork.  However, the second act doesn’t have the fire of the early scenes, and Patric’s final siege on Willis’ headquarters feels like a retread of the ending of ‘04’s The Punisher.  

Willis and Miller later reteamed for Vice and Reprisal.

  

AKA:  The Prince:  Only God Forgives.

GODZILLA: THE PLANET EATER (2019) * ½

The third (and thankfully, final) in the series of Godzilla animated adventures for Netflix is one of the worst Godzilla movies on record.  It’s certainly nowhere near as good as the old cartoons, that’s for sure.  I mean, would it have hurt the animators to toss in Godzooky?

The explorers of a doomed space mission are stranded on Earth.  Still smarting from not being able to defeat Godzilla in the previous installment, they set out to find a way to stop him once and for all.  They turn to a cult of religious fanatics for help, whose “Golden God” winds up being none other than Ghidrah himself.  Naturally, it turns out to be a big mistake for all involved.

The Planet Eater starts slowly as it spends a lot of time playing catch-up with various exposition dumps and arguments about what to do with Godzilla.  Godzilla lies dormant for most of the movie, which means, like the other films in the series, we’re stuck sitting through a lot of talk.  This one is particularly heavy on boring religious discussions that clumsily try to equate Godzilla as some sort of God substitute.  

The new design on Ghidrah is… uh… different.  While it sort of retains the same golden dragon look we all know and love, it has this new ability to transform itself into this snakelike entity made of energy… or something.  The big confrontation between the two titans of terror is a letdown too as Ghidrah spends much of the fight leeching energy out of Godzilla.  The final fight is also abrupt and anticlimactic.  Even after it’s over, the movie continues on mercilessly for another ten minutes.

While it’s not quite as bad as the last entry, City on the Edge of Battle, The Planet Eater is definitely one of the lowlights of Godzilla’s long and illustrious career.  The filmmakers never give him anything worthwhile to do and he spends too much of the movie in a goddamned coma.  I wouldn’t blame you if you did too.  

AKA:  Godzilla:  Eater of Stars.