Q / Winged Serpent, The (1982)

Q / Winged Serpent, The (1982)

“This thing has been prayed back into existence.”

Synopsis:
While a pair of detectives (David Carradine and Richard Roundtree) try to solve a series of gory murders around New York City, a petty crook (Michael Moriarty) stumbles upon a mysterious giant egg on top of the Chrysler Building, and attempts to use his knowledge as leverage against the police.

Genres, Themes, Actors, and Directors:

  • Candy Clark Films
  • David Carradine Films
  • Detectives and Private Eyes
  • Larry Cohen Films
  • Michael Moriarty Films
  • Mutant Monsters
  • New York City
  • Thieves and Criminals

Response to Peary’s Review:
In his review of this “cult picture” by writer-director Larry Cohen, Peary describes the bizarre plot as focusing on “an Aztec deity, the giant flying serpent Quetzalcoatl,” which “mysteriously appears above the Manhattan skyscrapers”:

… “descending only long enough to bite off the heads of sunbathers and construction workers” and “has built a secret nest at the top of the Chrysler Building” — all while “a series of ritualistic murders… are taking place all over the city.” When “former junkie Michael Moriarty flees a botched hold-up and somehow winds up at the nest,” “this born loser becomes an opportunist: he will divulge the location of the nest for $1 million plus amnesty.”

Peary argues that the “preposterous, totally confusing story is bolstered somewhat by the offbeat humor in director Larry Cohen’s script, some good location footage and his depiction of the city as character; and by a memorable, weirdly conceived performance by Moriarty” — although Peary believes “he should have saved his interesting neurotic for another picture.”

Peary notes that although the film is “fun for awhile”, it’s “done in by unforgivingly sloppy editing, mediocre special effects, and too many loose ends.” I agree on all counts.

In interviews, Cohen apparently noted that he:

“… once looked at the Chrysler Building and said: ‘That’d be the coolest place to have a nest.’ This single thought was the idea which began the creation of this movie.”

Unfortunately, this isn’t enough of an idea to sustain the film. Fans of Cohen will of course be curious to check it out, but it’s not must-see viewing for all fanatics.

Notable Performances, Qualities, and Moments:

  • Michael Moriarty as Jimmy Quinn
  • David Carradine as Detective Shepard
  • Good use of location shooting in NYC

Must See?
No, though it’s worth a one-time look for its cult status.

Links:

Simon of the Desert (1965)

Simon of the Desert (1965)

“Let a just man pray in peace!”

Synopsis:
In the 5th century Syrian desert, an ascetic “stylite” named Simon (Claudio Brook) stands on top of a pillar while people come to make requests of him or distract him, and he is repeatedly tempted by the devil (Silvia Pinal) in various guises.

Genres, Themes, Actors, and Directors:

  • Black Comedy
  • Christianity
  • Luis Buñuel Films
  • Surrealism

Response to Peary’s Review:
Peary writes that this “bizarre, laugh-out-loud Luis Buñuel comedy” — the final film made during Buñuel’s extensive “Mexico period” — features a protagonist (“wild-bearded Simon”) who at times “comes across as a fool,” given that “he blesses everything, even the food in his teeth”:

… and whose “belief in God is so masochistic that at one point he decides to stand on one foot until God gives him a sign.” However, he points out that “Buñuel does not really mock him; rather… he pities him for being so loyal to a God who doesn’t seem to care he exists.” While “the devious devil repeatedly turns up to test and tempt him”:

… “God is off on vacation, leaving Simon vulnerable.” He asserts that “equally sad is [the] fact that the people he helps — all typically weird Buñuel characters — don’t appreciate what he does for them; it’s a common Buñuel theme” — as in Viridiana (1961), for instance — “that good, even saintly works, are wasted on ignorant, self-interested, self-professed Christians.”

Peary concludes his review by noting that this “brief film” (just 43 minutes long) “ends with [an] unsatisfactory jolt,” but he argues that “until then, [the] parable is great fun and thought-provoking.” (The film’s truncated running time was due to financial constraints.)

I’ll admit that I’m not quite sure what to make of this shorter-than-typical-length feature, which may have been better suited as part of an omnibus. (Pinal — whose husband Gustavo Alatriste was the film’s producer — has noted this was under consideration.) Peary’s assertion that God “doesn’t seem to care [Simon] exists” may be true, but to what end? Are we meant to reflect on how religiosity serves its own functions, separate and apart from any kind of “evidence” from a higher power or gratitude from the world? If Simon himself is satisfied with his life of martyrdom, should that be sufficient, regardless of what he actually accomplishes? Personally, I’d rather watch movies about real-life heroes who seemed to legitimately deserve their sainthood, though Buñuel’s take on the topic is an intriguing satire that’s worth a one-time look.

Notable Performances, Qualities, and Moments:

  • Gabriel Figueroa’s cinematography

Must See?
No, though it’s recommended.

Links:

Billy Jack (1971)

Billy Jack (1971)

“On this reservation, I am the law.”

Synopsis:
A half-Indian Green Beret vet named Billy Jack (Tom Laughlin) — who runs a progressive boarding school with his pacifist wife (Delores Taylor) — provides safe haven for a pregnant runaway teen (Julie Webb) abused by her father (Kenneth Tobey), and protects wild horses from slaughter by the town’s bullying head honcho (Bert Freed) and equally toxic son (David Roya).

Genres, Themes, Actors, and Directors:

  • Boarding Schools
  • Counterculture
  • Native Americans
  • Racism and Race Relations
  • Tom Laughlin Films
  • Veterans

Response to Peary’s Review:
As Peary writes, “Tom Laughlin introduced us to his title character… in 1967’s successful ‘biker’ film, Born Losers,” and then went on to make this lucrative cult film — a “phenomenon at the box office” “designed to entice the enormous alienated-youth audience.” He points out that this “uncontroversial film is for justice and equality, yoga, the creative arts, meditation, role-play therapy, wild horses, and gun control; it is against bigotry, bullies, childbeaters and formal education.”

But he notes that “the eerie part” about this film’s success “is that its nonviolent audience most enjoyed the violence perpetrated by Billy Jack on the conservative types who are threatening the children at pacifist Taylor’s school,” and he points out that “it’s particularly disturbing when the kids in the film give Billy Jack a ‘power’ salute, signifying that he is their savior.”

Peary adds that “it’s clear that Laughlin wanted viewers to think of him and his character as one and the same.”

He concedes that the “picture isn’t badly made: [the] hapkido scenes are exciting, Taylor gives a very moving account of what it feels like to be raped”:

… “and Laughlin makes a good, charismatic action hero.” However, it is also “pretentious and badly flawed” in many ways.

Peary elaborates upon the film’s success and challenges in his Cult Movies book, where he notes that the husband-wife filmmaking team of Laughlin and Taylor themselves referred to the production as “one of the weirdest success stories in modern cinema history.” In a nutshell, the couple amicably withdrew from their initial contract with AIP, eventually getting 20th Century Fox to provide financial backing — but when Laughlin found out that Richard “Zanuck had taken the print of the film from the studio vault before Laughlin finished editing it and was planning to cut it on his own,” “Laughlin sneaked the soundtrack out of the lab and left Zanuck with an expensive film that had no sound,” eventually resulting in Zanuck agreeing “to sell Laughlin his picture.” (To be honest, I think a film about all these shenanigans sounds more interesting than the movie in its current form.)

Eventually, “the Laughlins took their $650,000 completed film to Warners, which bought it for 1.8 million” and released it “almost three years after production began” — at which point “it quickly became known as the sleeper of the year, with people (mostly juveniles and college students) going back to see it four and five times”, and the film eventually earning “a phenomenal $30 million.” However, “the Laughlins were not satisfied” and after bringing a “suit against Warners for improperly publicizing the film,” it was re-released in 1973 through a “four-walling” distribution scheme and “went on to rake in another fortune.” Two sequels were then made (both listed in GFTFF) but the phenomenon eventually blew over.

I’m not a fan of this film, which may have been well-intentioned but comes across as extremely muddled and pretentious — and very much a product of its times. There is one powerful scene, in which anti-Indian racism is enacted explicitly (in the ice cream store):

… but this leads to — violence. It’s also nice seeing Kenneth Tobey on screen, serving as a bridge to earlier cinematic history.

However, Taylor’s non-acting skills (in spite of her obvious earnestness) is a major detriment to the film, and it’s infuriating seeing a lack of any “real” Indians with grit or nuance. As Peary writes, “Most Indians are kept in the film’s background — except for the nebbish Martin [Stan Rice], who carries around a saying by St. Francis of Assisi and allows the girl he loves to learn to ride a horse while she’s pregnant.”

(Speaking of Rice and the other presumably Indigenous actors in the cast, one wonders how much money they made from its success — if anything.)

Notable Performances, Qualities, and Moments:

Must See?
No, but it’s worth a one-time look simply for its historical significance.

Links:

Cutter’s Way / Cutter and Bone (1981)

Cutter’s Way / Cutter and Bone (1981)

“Sooner or later, you’re going to have to make a decision about something.”

Synopsis:
A disabled Vietnam vet named Cutter (John Heard) collaborates with his reluctant friend Bone (Jeff Bridges) to investigate a murder potentially committed by a local tycoon (Stephen Elliott).

Genres, Themes, Actors, and Directors:

  • Amateur Sleuths
  • Blackmail
  • Friendship
  • Jeff Bridges Films
  • John Heard Films
  • Veterans

Response to Peary’s Review:
As Peary writes, “this fascinating adaptation of Newton Thornburg’s riveting novel” was “directed by Ivan Passer, a Czech emigre who [had] the knack to zero in on distinct American types ignored by American directors, from the elite to the nobodies.” His “main characters” in this case are “nobodies: three children of the sixties whose optimism was smothered by the dark reality of Vietnam and who refuse to take their places as adults in the present, poisonous America — symbol of their defeat.”

He adds, “These three thrive on martyrdom, feed off each other’s infirmities, and find security in each other’s inability to accomplish anything,” which manifests differently for each. Richard Bone (Jeff Bridges), for instance, “is a handsome, overage beach bum who picks up a few bucks by sleeping with middle-aged married women” (like Nina van Pallandt below).

Meanwhile, “his best friend is Alexander Cutter (John Heard), who spends his time drinking, complaining, philosophizing, and, in his hard-to-take raspy voice, insulting anyone he sees — while his depressed, worn-out wife, Mo (Lisa Eichhorn), stays in their filthy home and drinks.”

Part of this trio’s internal drama — in addition to Bone’s crush on Mo — is that “Cutter, who lost an eye, an arm, and a leg in Vietnam, resents Bone because while Cutter was away fighting, Bone had… avoided danger and commitment.” However, “Cutter feels more animosity toward rich men of the type who sent him to war to protect their concerns.”

The storyline itself centers on an accidental sighting of a crime: “When Bone thinks he saw tycoon J.J. Cord (Stephen Elliott) dispose of the body of a murdered woman, Cutter convinces Bone to act for the first time in his life.”

We then follow “Cutter, Bone and Valerie (Ann Dusenberry)” — sister of the murdered woman — as they “embark on a scheme to blackmail Cord” (to say more would spoil, so I won’t).

Peary ends his review by noting that “this whodunit in which the mystery isn’t that important is uncompromisingly written [by Jeffrey Alan Fiskin], erotic, sinister, disarmingly emotional, and eerily photographed by Jordan Cronenweth. And the acting is great.”

Indeed, in Alternate Oscars, Peary names Heard Best Actor of the Year, conceding that as hard as it was for audiences to “put up with [Henry] Fonda’s constantly sniping character in On Golden Pond” (for which he finally won an overdue Oscar), “Heard’s antihero… really tests one’s tolerance.” He points out that “in the late seventies and early eighties there was no one better than John Heard at playing young misfits, be it hipster icon Jack Kerouac in Heart Beat, or sixties survivors in Between the Lines, Head Over Heels / Chilly Scenes of Winter, and Cutter’s Way, three major cult films of the Woodstock generation.” In all of these films, Heard “played his real characters with intelligence, fury, and the correct dose of past-their-eras confusion,” men who “feel frustration because while they remain young the world is aging around them and changing in ways antithetical to what they had striven for” — yet they hold “on to their values” and want “to make a last stand.”

In Alternate Oscars, Peary elaborates upon his no-holds-barred description of Heard’s Cutter — “a brilliantly conceived and played character” — as someone who “has worse manners than the one-legged, one-armed, one-eyed pirates he resembles,” “drinks far too much, dresses sloppily and is ill-groomed and hostile, has suicidal tendencies, is full of self-pity, and puts himself on public display.” Moreover, “he always reminds everyone that he’s crippled,” and is “so irritating” that “you’ll likely want to trip him.” He points out that “it took guts for Heard to play such a character and have to win audience sympathy for the film to succeed.”

In Cult Movies 2, Peary discusses other elements of the movie, including its rocky release under its original title (Cutter and Bone), and its re-emergence as a cult neo-noir favorite (which it has retained to this day). He admits that he was “slightly disappointed” in the film when he “first saw it,” and “agreed with those who complained it was boring in spots, confusing, and had three of the most infuriating lead characters in cinema history.” (I agree; I really struggled to watch this for the first time years ago — in part because I was groggy from health issues and not really awake enough to focus on it — and will admit I had no real interest in a revisit until it was time to finally write this review.)

However, Peary adds that he’s since “come to learn” this “is a picture that demands several viewings to be judged fairly,” and “can be enjoyed only by those willing to accept certain facts: a movie with a whodunit needn’t be about the mystery…; lead characters needn’t be crowd pleasers; [and] ambiguity can be intentional, and also profound.” He now believes that “Cutter’s Way is an original, endlessly fascinating work,” a “picture that shifts directions at every turn” — beginning “in classic noir style, with its darkness, rain-soaked streets, and violent murder,” yet “thereafter we’re in bright California sunshine” where “the sensation of menace is even more pervasive.”

Peary describes the protagonists as individuals who “have not made the dramatic transition from young people to adult,” noting, “They are too irresponsible to even take care of themselves; none has a real job, there’s no food in the refrigerator, Cutter’s driver’s license has expired and his insurance has lapsed, they choose to live in permanent squalor, and [he] wouldn’t be surprised if each has some uncontrolled infection or social disease” (!!!). Finally, he describes Eichhorn’s Mo as someone who is “still beautiful, but the beauty in her life has been lost.”

He adds, “She is worn out, and like Dorothy Malone in The Tarnished Angels (1957), who is also committed to staying with a broken man, is too weak to fight the fates or accept responsibility for not improving either her man’s or her own lot.” She comes across in stark contrast with the lurking, quiet, savvy wife (Patricia Donohue) of tycoon Cord, who will do whatever it takes to keep her life of privilege uninterrupted.

Finally, in Cult Movies 2, Peary comments on the friendship between Cutter and Bone, noting that “they need each other” and “Bone sticks by Cutter because he truly hopes Cutter will goad him into making that genuine commitment to something worthwhile — the same reason Humphrey Bogart accepts Claude Rains’s persistent jibes in Casablanca (1942).” Viewers will ultimately have to decide for themselves if this film merits comparison with such a lauded cinematic classic, but it’s certainly worth at least a one-time visit to find out.

Notable Performances, Qualities, and Moments:

  • John Heard as Alex Cutter
  • Jeff Bridges as Richard Bone
  • Lisa Eichhorn as Mo Cutter
  • Jordan Cronenweth’s cinematography
  • Jack Nitzsche’s unusual score

Must See?
Yes — though it’s not a personal favorite. Nominated as one of the Best Pictures of the Year in Peary’s Alternate Oscars.

Categories

  • Cult Movie
  • Noteworthy Performance(s)

Links:

Trash (1970)

Trash (1970)

“You’re starting to look like a bum — a big, juicy bum.”

Synopsis:
An impotent heroin addict (Joe Dallesandro) and his girlfriend (Holly Woodlawn) attempt to score dope, sex, and welfare funds in New York City.

Genres, Themes, Actors, and Directors:

  • Alcoholism and Drug Addiction
  • Paul Morrissey Films
  • Prostitutes and Gigolos

Response to Peary’s Review:
Peary writes that this “first genuine commercial film by Andy Warhol” as “executive producer” is — “like Flesh, in which Joe Dallesandro plays a male hustler” — also “directed and photographed by Paul Morrissey, only this time he utilized a more coherent storyline, and there is sharper editing and faster pacing.” However, “it is still intended as another Warhol ‘documentary’ that explores the lives of real people” — and to that end, “we are taken to a squalid basement dwelling on New York’s lower East Side” with “two unmarried lowlifes: Joe, a muscular, handsome, but pimply 18-year-old former stud whose heroin addiction makes it hard for him to talk clearly, much less… satisfy all the women he turns on; and girlfriend Holly (female impersonator Holly Woodlawn), a nympho who picks up teenage boys for sex because Joe can no longer satisfy her, collects furniture from trash piles, and orders Joe to shape up so they can qualify for welfare and become respectable.”

Peary writes that “the intention of the film was to elicit audience responses to unusual images,” with “Warhol and Morrissey giv[ing] viewers the expected nudity, sex, and drug-taking, but not in the expected kinky, sensual, turn-on manner… The film’s importance is that it is an attempt to raise the moviegoer’s level of tolerance to accommodate what had traditionally seemed too ‘strong’ or offensive for the cinema.” He adds that the “film is full of hilarious characters and scenes” — such as “Holly’s conversation with a welfare examiner (Michael Sklar)”:

… and he notes that “the acting by the two leads, who improvise a lot, is at times brilliant.” Moreover, “What’s most surprising is that this weird film manages moments of poignancy, when real pain and concern are revealed in the characters”; indeed, “it’s touching when ‘macho’ Joe reforms and becomes compassionate toward Holly.”

Peary’s entire review in GFTFF is excerpted from his longer essay in Cult Movies, where he elaborates on these key points and writes, “Chances are you will like Trash if you like the weird characters the filmmakers have brought together.” (I wouldn’t say I like them, but they crack me up.) Among the motley cast are a “go-go dancer [Geri Miller] who does a strip and sings in a baby voice hoping to turn Joe on, and when that fails tries to stimulate him by discussing politics (although nothing could bore Joe more)”:

… “the rich girl [Andrea Feldman]… who has an indescribable, affected voice and mentions LSD in every sentence”:

… “Jane [Jane Forth], the rich young bride from Grosse Point who wants to fix Joe’s hair like her own and do something about his complexion”:

… “her snobbish husband Bruce [Bruce Pecheur] who asks Joe condescendingly, ‘Can you eat or do you have to get strung out all the time?'”:

… “the high school kid from Yonkers [John Putnam] Holly brings home to seduce, who has come to the apartment wanting uppers”:

… “Holly’s amoral pregnant sister [Diane Podel] who is willing to lend Holly and Joe her baby to fool the welfare department”:

… and “the welfare man who is willing to put Joe and Holly on welfare (‘You look like two decent, respectable hippies’) if Holly will sell him her shoes so he can make them into a lamp.”

As Peary writes, “They’re a weird conglomeration, but never” (unlike in a John Waters film, for instance) “do we think them too outrageous to be believable.” Finally, Peary notes that while “some critics have complained that Joe comes across as too passive,” he thinks “his passivity through heroin addiction is our one indication of how ‘dead’ one must become to survive in the terribly degrading environment in which he is trapped.”

I agree with Peary that Joe’s “character [is] used quite interestingly by Morrissey,” but with a slightly different take: Dallesandro doesn’t epitomize survival in a “degrading environment” so much as he embodies a hard core drug addict. He is someone who cares about almost nothing but getting his next fix; he’s not passive, but instead laser-focused on (and hence distracted by) that. Everything else is superfluous, and Dallesandro conveys this expertly: you can practically hear his inner dialogue as he looks at everything going on around him and is just waiting until the nonsense is over so he can shoot up in peace.

Notable Performances, Qualities, and Moments:

  • Holly Woodlawn as Holly
  • Joe Dallesandro as Joe
  • Fine vérité shooting on the streets of New York

Must See?
No, but it’s recommended as a quirky cult favorite — and I’ll go ahead and give it my own Personal Recommendation stamp (with the understanding that it won’t appeal to many/most). Be forewarned there is a ton of full-frontal nudity in this one.

Links:

Walkabout (1971)

Walkabout (1971)

“You must understand — anyone can understand that! We want to drink.”

Synopsis:
After her deeply troubled father (John Meillon) commits suicide in the desert, a teenager (Jenny Agutter) and her brother (Luc Roeg) survive with help from an Aboriginal teenager (David Gulpilil) engaged in a coming-of-age ritual known as a “walkabout”.

Genres, Themes, Actors, and Directors:

  • Australian Films (not really, but shot there)
  • Coming-of-Age
  • Cross-Cultural Romance
  • Deserts
  • Jenny Agutter Films
  • Native Peoples
  • Nicolas Roeg Films
  • Survival

Response to Peary’s Review:
In his review of this “wondrously photographed, haunting film by Nicolas Roeg” — a “fascinating, original movie [that] will stay with you” — Peary focuses primarily on “the boundary that separates two cultures,” writing that “neither Gumpilil nor Agutter can understand the other” and “the tragedy is that until it is too late, Agutter” — who is “young and sexually repressed” — “does not attempt to understand either him or herself.”

He points out the “unbelievably gorgeous photography… of the outback, its creatures, its desert sands, its stump trees”:

… and the fact that “Roeg intercuts sensual images (naked skin, water, connecting tree branches) with others that are unexpectedly harsh (such as animals being killed)”:

… as well as “shots of the outback with those of impersonal [Western] civilization.”

Peary elaborates extensively upon his review and analysis of this film in his Cult Movies 3 book, where he begins by noting how many “celebrated” films Roeg worked on as a DP before turning to directing — including Roger Corman’s Masque of the Red Death (1964), Francois Truffaut’s Fahrenheit 451 (1967), John Schlesinger’s Far From the Madding Crowd (1967), and Richard Lester’s A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum (1966) and Petulia (1968), which used the fragmentary narrative style that would later characterize his own films.” Roeg had clearly begun to develop a strong sense of personal visual style, which is manifested throughout Walkabout.

In describing the evolution and production of this film — based on a 1959 novel by “James Vance Marshall” (actually Donald G. Payne) and turned into a 14-page outline by British playwright Edward Bond — Peary notes that Roeg “didn’t want the journey in the film to actually be possible,” and thus “crisscrossed 14,000 miles of the outback, filming such awesome locales as the Flinders mountain range, the red desert surrounding Alice Springs, and areas never traveled by white people.” He also apparently found “one of only 14” (at the time) rare quandong trees.

In Cult Movies 3, Peary writes that this film is “fascinating because it contains enough familiar material (including lead characters) to be coherent (at least on one level) yet also contains intriguing mysteries we can ponder but never solve… Walkabout is about as ‘deep’, profound, and complex as the individual viewer cares to make it, for each time you come up with an interpretation, several unanswerable… questions arise.”

I appreciate that about this film, too; it clearly lends itself to multiple viewings and analyses if one is so inclined — though it contains enough heartbreaking material to make it a serious downer. Within the first 12 minutes of the storyline, for instance, we see a father who “drives his kids to the desert for a picnic,” and, “crazed — probably from the dullness of his work and home life — he tries to kill them, then sets fire to the car and commits suicide.”

(Yes, that is a picture of a dad aiming a gun at his own child. It’s simply brutal.) Agutter’s response is one of pure pragmatism; we never see her responding with overt emotional depth, making it clear that this film really is (in part) about suppression and repression, even at life’s extremes. This scene is bookended near the end with another tragic death — when, once again, Agutter barely responds, and instead simply keeps heading to “civilization”. By the final moments of the movie, we see her reflecting back on a possible path she could have chosen, but didn’t; it’s all truly bleak. Be forewarned — but also be sure to watch this unique classic at least once.

Notable Performances, Qualities, and Moments:

  • Beautiful cinematography
  • Jenny Agutter as Girl (nominated by Peary as one of the Best Actresses of the Year in Alternate Oscars)
  • David Gulpilil as Black Boy
  • Many starkly unforgettable scenes

Must See?
Yes, as an intriguing classic. Nominated as one of the Best Pictures of the Year in Peary’s Alternate Oscars.

Categories

  • Genuine Classic
  • Important Director

(Listed in 1001 Movies You Must See Before You Die)

Links:

Wanderers, The (1979)

Wanderers, The (1979)

“Sometimes all you got is pride. You gotta hold your head up high.”

Synopsis:
In the early ’60s, a member (Ken Wahl) of the Wanderers gang in the Bronx hangs out with his girlfriend (Toni Kalem) and fellow Italian-American Wanderers Joey (John Friedrich), Turkey (Alan Rosenberg), Buddy (Jim Youngs), and Perry (Tony Ganios) while they negotiate tensions with other gangs, including the skinhead Fordham Baldies, the African-American Del Bombers, the Asian-American Wongs, and the menacing Irish-American Duckys; meanwhile, Wahl falls for a beautiful non-Italian girl (Karen Allen) he sees while walking down the street, which leads to tensions with his girlfriend.

Genres, Themes, Actors, and Directors:

  • Coming-of-Age
  • Gangs
  • Karen Allen Films
  • Rivalry
  • Teenagers

Response to Peary’s Review:
As Peary writes, “Philip Kaufman directed this cult favorite” — based on a “fine novel by Richard Price” — which “has individual scenes that flirt with greatness,” but also includes “changes in tone… so drastic that it lacks cohesion.” He notes that the movie “deals with gang rivalries, copping feels, Italian brotherhood (which has good and bad points), macho fathers, how music reflects the energy and rebellious spirit of youth, loyalty, and growing up.”

He points out that while “there is much brutality,” “this past is shown to be a time of innocence because it doesn’t compare to the Vietnam years ahead” — though we do also see the “end of innocence [as] reflected by Kennedy’s assassination, the recruitment of the Fordham Baldies into the military, graduation, [and] boys running away to California.” Peary writes that the “picture has drive, humor, much nostalgia, erotic moments (e.g., Allen suggests a strip-poker game)”:

… “an epic battle of the gangs, and terrifying scenes in which our heroes wander into a weird gang’s section of town.”

Peary elaborates on his assessment of this film in his Cult Movies 3 book, where he points out that it “had the misfortune to be released after violence at theaters showing The Warriors (1979) and [the non-GFTFF-listed] Boulevard Nights (1979) made theater owners afraid to book gang pictures and patrons reluctant to attend them.” He argues that it’s “a shame” this flick “was pigeonholed as nothing more than a ‘gang picture’ when in fact it touches on the universal experiences of the average American teenager,” and “might easily have been promoted as an American Graffiti with slick pompadours and teased hairdos, tight sweaters and push-up bras, and gold-on-maroon satin jackets.”

As Peary notes, the film’s “appeal is based less on violence than early-sixties nostalgia for friends, foes, make-out parties, romance, copping feels, great rock ‘n’ roll, bowling, football, school, hairstyles, [and] clothes.” As such, its appeal to film fanatics these days may be more limited than when it was released, though it remains a solidly filmed period piece.

Peary also discusses some of the film’s shortcomings in his Cult Movies 3 review — noting, for instance, that “surely the film would have benefited from a scene or two in which Richie and Joey, or Joey and Perry, open up to each other, so we can get more insight into their fears, their goals, [and] their dreams” (I agree). He points out that “there is room for such quiet moments, because there are superfluous scenes that should have been discarded.” While Peary happens to “like the classroom scene in which the liberal Mr. Sharp (Val Avery) attempts to be Glenn Ford in The Blackboard Jungle (1955) and teach ‘brotherhood’ to his class, only to have tensions increase between the Italians and blacks,” I find it cringeworthy. (Was it really a good pedagogical idea to have the kids throw out all the slurs they could think of for the other primary ethnic group in the room?)

Meanwhile, Peary refers to the culminating football game, though “based on a real event,” as “an awkwardly filmed cliche, not as funny as the Marx Brothers’ football romp in Horse Feathers (1932), [and] not as raucous as the game in M*A*S*H (1970)” — and he argues that the attack sequence “is quite ludicrous.”

With all that said, I agree with Peary that “the earlier, equally surreal scenes with the Ducky Boys” are “among the best moments in the film, and” — contrary to much critical opinion — “quite appropriate” given that “they properly convey the terror every gang member must have felt back then when he found himself stranded in strange, hostile territory” with “anyone who emerged from the shadows [taking] on monstrous proportions.”

This film has quite a few subplots to follow, and those who are interested in the time period and topic should give it a look — but it’s no longer must-see viewing for all film fanatics.

Notable Performances, Qualities, and Moments:

  • Ken Wahl as Richie
  • Karen Allen as Nina
  • Dolph Sweet as Mr. Galasso
  • Michael Chapman’s cinematography

Must See?
No, though it’s worth a look for its cult status.

Links:

Black Stallion, The (1979)

Black Stallion, The (1979)

“Alec, that Black is a desert horse. He’s fast, alright.”

Synopsis:
After his father (Hoyt Axton) is killed during a shipwreck fire, a young boy (Kelly Reno) and a black stallion survive on a deserted island together. Once Alec (Reno) returns home to his widowed mother (Teri Garr), he befriends a retired horse trainer (Mickey Rooney) who agrees to help Alec prepare “The Black” for a race.

Genres, Themes, Actors, and Directors:

  • Deserted Island
  • Friendship
  • Horses
  • Mickey Rooney Films
  • Pets
  • Teri Garr Films

Response to Peary’s Review:
As Peary writes, this “Carroll Ballard film, co-produced by Francis Ford Coppola,” is “actually two stories: the first is magical and mystical and the second is familiar but lyrical.” He notes that the first “deals with the boy’s courtship of the stallion, beginning on the ship and continuing on the island,” with the boy having “gained the horse’s trust and affection” by “the time they are rescued.”

He adds, “In Story Two, which is filmed entirely differently, the boy returns to small-town America, and, with the help of trainer Mickey Rooney” — giving “a sincere, offbeat performance” — “prepares the black stallion for a long race in which he’ll be the jockey.”

Peary notes that he “much prefer[s] the island scenes,” though he concedes “the slow pace may put some kids to sleep.” He concludes his review by writing that this movie “has some of the most beautiful outdoor photography in film history,” with “scenes of the boy learning to ride the horse on sand and on water linger[ing] in [one’s] memory.”

I’m in agreement with Peary’s assessment. This film is indeed gorgeously shot (by DP Caleb Deschanel) and contains some truly memorable imagery; and while the second half isn’t quite as engaging, it does provide a happy “resolution” of sorts. Viewers of all ages — and especially horse lovers — will find something to enjoy in this classic flick, which was selected for preservation in the United States National Film Registry by the Library of Congress in 2002 as being “culturally, historically, or aesthetically significant”.

Note: As Peary points out, the “horse is gorgeous.”

Notable Performances, Qualities, and Moments:

  • Caleb Deschanel’s cinematography
  • Mickey Rooney as Henry Dailey
  • Reno’s natural performance as Alec
  • Fine period detail
  • Carmine Coppola’s score

Must See?
Yes, as a beloved classic.

Categories

  • Genuine Classic

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Local Hero (1983)

Local Hero (1983)

“I could grow to love this place.”

Synopsis:
When an American oil company representative (Peter Riegert) is sent by his astronomy-loving boss (Burt Lancaster) to negotiate the sale of coastal land in Ferness, Scotland, he is surprised to find that most of the villagers — with the exception of a beach-owning hermit (Fulton MacKay) — are eager to sell; meanwhile, he quickly finds himself enchanted by their quirky way of life.

Genres, Themes, Actors, and Directors:

  • Burt Lancaster Films
  • Comedy
  • Scottish Films
  • Village Life

Response to Peary’s Review:
As Peary writes, this “whimsical, enchanting comedy by Bill Forsyth” is thematically comparable to “Frank Capra’s films” in that “innocence is restored to corrupted city-dwellers through contact with small-town folk” as “money, power, and work suddenly seem unimportant.” Indeed, protagonist “Riegert finds peace and happiness among the relaxed, friendly oddballs who inhabit this town”, and “is soon under the warm spell of the glorious, magical night sky.”

Peary notes that “it is as much a joy for us as it is for Riegert to meet the villagers, especially Denis Lawson, who wears numerous hats — including innkeeper, philosophical bartender, unofficial mayor, accountant — yet always has time for a roll in the sack with his wife (Jennifer Black).”

Peary adds that “then there’s the pretty marine biologist (Jenny Seagrove) with webbed toes” who “may live in the sea”, who Riegert’s business companion (Peter Capaldi) instantly falls for.

Peary points out that “the characters [in this film] are never predictable”, and the fact that “Riegert also soon acts out of character is [an] indication of their ingratiating charm.” He concludes his review by noting that he finds “it hard to believe that this town with these people doesn’t exist.”

I agree with Peary’s positive assessment of this film, and will simply add that also of note (though unmentioned by Peary) is Burt Lancaster giving a solid performance in one of his quirky later-life roles.

Note: Watch for John Gordon Sinclair — star of Forsyth’s Gregory’s Girl (1980) — in a cameo as the boyfriend of a punk rocker.

Notable Performances, Qualities, and Moments:

  • Chris Menges’ cinematography

Must See?
Yes, as an enjoyable slice-of-life comedy.

Categories

  • Foreign Gem

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Sinbad and the Eye of the Tiger (1977)

Sinbad and the Eye of the Tiger (1977)

“You talked of a spell — or has he fallen victim to the plague?”

Synopsis:
Just as Prince Kassim (Damien Thomas) is about to be crowned caliph in the kingdom of Charak, his evil stepmother Zenobia (Margaret Whiting) — wanting her son (Kurt Christian) to be ruler instead — casts a spell on him, turning him into a baboon. When the sailor Sinbad (Patrick Wayne) arrives in Charak hoping to request the hand of Kassim’s sister (Jane Seymour) in marriage, he becomes involved in a quest to seek help from a wise alchemist (Patrick Troughton) and his daughter (Taryn Power), who may be able to reverse Zenobia’s spell.

Genres, Themes, Actors, and Directors:

  • Fantasy
  • Ray Harryhausen Films
  • Royalty and Nobility
  • Witches and Wizards

Response to Peary’s Review:
Peary writes that this “third installment of special-effects expert Ray Harryhausen’s Sinbad series” — following The 7th Voyage of Sinbad (1958) and The Golden Voyage of Sinbad (1973) — is a “disappointing fantasy-adventure, lacking the imagination of the two earlier Sinbad films.” He notes that “Harryhausen’s creatures are derivative of his earlier work”:

… “or are just plain dull (basketball-sized bee, a giant walrus).”


He adds that “the script is too long and lacks excitement,” with “Sinbad himself spend[ing] most of the film as a bystander.”

With that said, there’s plenty of eye candy here for those interested in seeing beautiful Seymour in one of her earlier films, and Tyrone Power, Jr.’s daughter Taryn in one of her few leading roles — and Harryhausen’s animation of the baboon is impressively realistic.

Unfortunately, British theatrical actress Margaret Whiting (who Peary weirdly asserts “sounds like a foreigner!”) is over-the-top as wicked Zenobia.

I couldn’t stop thinking about the 1939 film starring an elephant with her name (alongside Oliver Hardy and Harry Langdon) — though apparently Zenobia was an actual female leader in 3rd-century Syria.

Notable Performances, Qualities, and Moments:

  • Colorful sets and costumes
  • Harryhausen’s effects

Must See?
No; this one is only must see if you’re a Harryhausen or Sinbad completist.

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