Wednesday, April 3, 2013

Matchless (1966)

The opening credits of Alberto Lattuada’s Matchless (aka Mission Top Secret) consist of shots (mostly closeups) of various beakers, flasks, and so forth churning with all manner of colored “chemicals.”  It’s a setup straight out of the Mad Scientists’ Playbook, though at the time this film was made, it would probably be more familiar from Jerry Lewis’s The Nutty Professor to the younger viewers in the audience (and Lattuada would most likely be more familiar to cinephiles of the time for something like his adaptation of Nikolai Gogol’s The Overcoat).  But I thought of neither of those during the film’s start.  My first thought was of Professor Julius Sumner Miller.  In my youth, our local PBS station, WVIA, would show a program called Science Demonstrations, and it was hosted by Miller.  On the program, he would wander around his low-rent lab set and give short lectures and demonstrations on physics (one of the first things he would say on each episode was, “…and physics is my business”).  The shows were informal and fairly crude, and most people who remember Miller at all probably do so because he had a distinctive look about him which was topped (quite literally) by a scraggly head of hair that would have made Mark Blankfield in Jekyll And Hyde…Together Again weep. 
However, my fondness for Miller goes a bit beyond the real-world trappings which most people view with a sense of kitsch or irony.  I truly admire Miller, because he was enthusiastic.  Here was a man who thrilled at the concepts of Newton’s Third Law of Physics, who delighted in the idea that water behaves as much like a lens as it does a hydrating element (The Professor appeared on the Canadian program Hilarious House Of Frightenstein, as well).  More than that, he was delighted to share his insights with people.  His desire was to inspire learning, to actively engage young minds and stimulate them to see the world through a new set of eyes, and he dismayed at the failures of our educational system.  “We are approaching a darkness in the land. Boys and girls are emerging from every level of school with certificates and degrees, but they can't read, write or calculate. We don't have academic honesty or intellectual rigor. Schools have abandoned integrity and rigor."  Now, I’m sure there those who would take the preceding statement as corny or archaic, but as Euripides wrote in The Bacchae, “Talk sense to a fool, and he calls you foolish.”   Frankly, I think Miller was right back then and even more so today.  But I also think that, if there were more teachers like Julius Sumner Miller, this would likely not be the case.  There is a difference between hearing and listening, and Miller was one of those people who got you to listen and thus to learn.
Journalist Perry Liston (Patrick O’Neal) is being tortured by the Communist Chinese for information as to why he is in their country (evidently not much).  Liston proves resilient, and the Reds chuck him back into his cell, which he shares with actual spy Hank (Henry Silva) and an elderly, moribund Chinese peasant who Hank wishes would die more quietly.  Perry shows the old man compassion, and in return the peasant gifts Perry with a very ugly ring.  However, the ring has the unique ability of making its wearer (but not his/her clothes) completely invisible for twenty minutes once every ten hours.  Perry effects his escape back to America (kind of involuntarily) and is enlisted by the military (including Boss Hogg himself, Sorrell Booke as Colonel Coolpepper) to steal a vial-stuffed briefcase from one Gregori Andreanu (Donald Pleasance).  But even with the help of artist-cum-spy Arabella (Ira von Fürstenberg) and his own distinct advantages, the job may not be as easy as it seems.
There is an interesting juxtaposition going on in Matchless, and it is one of sides; not sides as in planes which make up an object but sides as in “whose side are you on?”  We are introduced to the Red Menace villains of the piece as they torture Perry on a centrifugal motion device.  We then see they have given four soldiers plastic surgery to appear as WASPs for a Battle of the Bulge sort of infiltration of America.  After Perry is drugged by O-Lan (the gorgeous Elisabetta Wu), the film cuts to the same opening shot from Perry’s POV, and we assume he is on the same centrifugal motion device, about to be interrogated again by the Chinese.  Well, he is on the same device, but he is now in America, and he is being tortured and interrogated by the American military.  Coincidentally, the Americans also have four soldiers who have been given plastic surgery and are ready to be sent to infiltrate China.  This equation of the Chinese and Americans sets up a question of trust (and of brains, since neither side can come up with any ideas better than their enemy’s).  Both sides think and act exactly the same, and they distrust anything outside their basic purview. 
Even the agents working for America cannot be trusted by Perry as is setup in his encounter with O-Lan, and this will shade the relationship with Arabella to some degree (though her being an artist separates her in the viewer’s mind from the regulation-oriented military somewhat).  Hank is a venal opportunist who will betray his sworn allegiance for some money and a chance to save his own skin.  The Americans refuse to tell Perry what’s in the vials he is supposed to snatch (turning the case into a MacGuffin a la Kiss Me Deadly, Repo Man, etcetera, though we do see the vials rather than just an enigmatic glow), baldly displaying their distrust of a man they are entrusting to carry out an extraordinarily important mission.  Unlike so many other films in the Superspy genre, there is a cynical, antiauthoritarian streak going on in the film.  There is no beneficent government looking out for “the good side’s” best interest, just the same as there is no evil empire intent on dominating the world.  The two are one and the same; the only real difference being their map coordinates.  Essentially, all governments are bent, and the only person Perry (read: common folk) can truly trust is Perry. 
Perry’s invisibility schtick is also meaningful outside of its narrative function.  Whenever he uses the ring, he must be completely unclothed.  Thus, he is both well-defended as well as completely defenseless.  He is literally stripped bare, and this fits with O’Neal’s casual attitude toward everything that happens in the film, funny enough.  The invisibility also provides a counterpoint to the villainous Gregori’s outlook on the world.  Andreanu believes “in science and accuracy,” his estate populated by serving robots with clocks for heads (a play both on the idea of clockwork men and Gregori’s obsession with precision).  Also, when Gregori gets upset (despite his deep belief that he leads a “Zen” lifestyle), he insists on putting on a pair of sunglasses to make his eyes invisible to anyone who happens to be looking.  Perry, by contrast, takes everything off and goes with the flow of things, embodying more of the Zen philosophy than Gregori could ever buy or build.  The two symbolize the opposites of everything versus nothing, technology versus primitive, intellect versus instinct.  Perry wants to blend in, Gregori wants to stand out.
The film’s sense of humor is broad but never egregiously so (Hank watches The Man From AUNTIE on television, just to give you a taste).  Lattuada’s direction is solid, and his shot choices provide for interesting viewing, by and large (and there are healthy doses of tastefully enticing T&A throughout).  The Superspy elements are handled rather well, and the action elements (with the exception of a dull-as-shit car chase at the end) are tense and exciting (especially the central set piece at the bank).  At times, the film dips from the realm of Superspy/Super-Science into almost pure fantasy, but it never feels disconcerting.  In fact, I would argue that the film would have benefited by going just a step or two further down that road.  The visual effects, especially those involving invisibility, are surprisingly accomplished, and there are only a few times when an object appears to be just suspended on fishing line.  Matchless is a light adventure, nonetheless.  No one’s life will be changed by watching it for either good or ill, and as an entertainment I wouldn’t necessarily agree with the film’s title, but I would go so far as to say it isn’t joyless.
MVT:  Superspy films of this era have a certain flavor, whether they like it or not, and that Swingin’ 60s aesthetic is the thing I liked most about this movie.  The “Space Age” technology, the hiphugger fashions, the “everything’s a happening” attitude all add up into a decent little ambience package that fits the film nicely.
Make Or Break:  The Make for me was the first scene with Silva in the Chinese prison.  Here’s a guy who is so self-centered, he cannot bear having to listen to another man quietly drawing his final breaths because they’re keeping him awake.  It’s pure Silva doing what Silva does best, and it fits the odd-yet-blithe timbre of the picture.
Score:  6.25/10 

Tuesday, April 2, 2013

Episode #229: Berberian Prison

Welcome to our episode sponsored by diabolikdvd.com, the place to get all your hard to find releases!!!

This week it was Sammy's turn to pick and he chose Berberian Sound Studio (2012) directed by Peter Strickland and Prison (1988) directed by Renny Harlin!!! Sit back and enjoy the conversation, we had a blast discussing these two very different films and much more!!

Direct download: Berberian_Prison.mp3

Emails to midnitecinema@gmail.com

Voicemails to 206-666-5207

Adios!!!



Saturday, March 30, 2013

Episode #228: Iron Samurai Cops

Welcome to another girthy episode of the GGtMC!!!

This week the Gents are joined by Chris B. for his Kickstarter selections and Chris really knew what the listeners and the hosts really enjoy from the GGtMC!! Chris selected Samurai Cop (1989) directed by Amir Shervan and Pumping Iron (1977) starring Arnold Scwarzenegger and lou Ferrigno amonst others.....it made for some very interesting conversation.

Direct download: Iron_Samurai_Cops.mp3 
 
Emails to midnitecinema@gmail.com

Voicemails to 206-666-5207

Adios!!!



Wednesday, March 27, 2013

The Asphyx (1973)



Gather around, kiddies, methinks it’s time for yet another in my seemingly neverending line of supernatural stories.  Let’s see if I can get through this one without mangling it, shall we?  I have a friend who has a friend (don’t they all start this way?), and when my friend’s friend (we’ll call him “Teddy”) was young (double digits but not voting age, as far as I know), he was awoken one night to the sight of a ghost walking down the hall outside his room.  The ghost was only discernible from the waist up, but here comes the kicker: It was the ghost of Abraham Lincoln.  Teddy followed after the spectre, and when he caught up to it, Lincoln was sitting (kind of tough with no lower torso, I assume) and reading a book.  After a few stunned moments, the President looked up and said, “Are you enjoying the book, Teddy?”  Needless to say, Teddy was freaked, no one believed him, and certain mental dispositions were investigated to no avail.  Some time later, my friend was staying at Teddy’s, and in the middle of the night, the two of them both saw Lincoln’s ghost.  They kept it to themselves.  I suppose we could turn this into a debate on perceptions and states of consciousness or the existence of the human spirit outside of the human body or any number of paranormal tangents, but I think that misses the point of the story.  These two men believe that what they saw was true.  If you’re a disbelieving sort, you can dismiss it any way you want.  But Teddy and my friend would dismiss your dismissal, and I guess the world would go on spinning, regardless.

One sunny day in then-modern England, a couple of cars collide violently.  Unfortunately, there is a man who stepped out between the two, and when the cops pull his body from the wreckage, they are astonished to find he’s still alive.  Cut to the year 1870.  Sir Hugo Cunningham (Robert Stephens) arrives home at his manor with new bride Anna (Fiona Walker) in tow.  Life proceeds apace, and Hugo whiles away the time taking photographs and sharing his theories with the local parapsychological society.  Quite by accident, however, Hugo observes an apparition looming near a man fated to die.  What’s more, he can trap this Asphyx (a play on “asphyxiate,” I assume), but his experiments begin to prove more dangerous than their rewards.

Peter Newbrook’s The Asphyx (aka The Horror Of Death aka Spirit Of The Dead) is not a Horror film in a conventional sense.  There is a supernatural presence, and it does take the form of a malformed, creature with a gaping, screeching maw, but it is not harmful in any expected way.  Much like William Castles’ The Tingler, the Asphyx is a being nobody would ever even know was in their presence, behaving as a sort of emotional parasite and departing when its host does.  With that in mind, the Asphyx also becomes a representation of the human soul, in a sense.  It transforms the ethereal into a quantifiable, secular, corporeal element.  It causes fear and pain in a physical manner (more like feeds on it, though its lingering prolongs the agonies of a violent death), but it mirrors the idea of man’s tortured soul.  That its appearance is so ugsome says a bit about not only humanity but also about every living creature (even guinea pigs can have them).  The beings feed on the least attractive things in us all, perhaps making them what they eat (?).  This poses a problem for the film’s narrative.  The Asphyx is not actually the human soul (Hugo believes it to be Egyptian Death Spirit, though the only thing I could find that came even remotely close is the concept that a person’s Sheut [shadow] could be depicted as a figure of death), but its capture enables the separation of the human spirit from the physical body.  The obvious question is “why?”  That’s like putting a lion which ate a convict in prison to serve out the con’s sentence (kinda, sorta).  Perhaps I do not fully understand the concept.  Could it be that the Asphyx is like a valkyrie, ushering spirits into the afterlife, so that by capturing the carrier, you capture the spirit?  Either way, it works in a cinematic sense, providing a visually striking focus for the film’s more intellectual conceit.

I mentioned that this isn’t a traditional Horror film, but there are horrifying things going on throughout.  Essentially, these events revolve around the film’s basic premise.  In order to capture the Asphyx, a person must be close to death and aware of the fact, thus generating an inescapable fear.  Nonetheless, the process of capturing the Death Spirit prolongs the victim’s experience, making for some quite tense (and even slightly disturbing) sequences.  Needless to say, the process doesn’t always go correctly, turning horror into despair.  Once Hugo has become immortal, he becomes not only more fixated on his experiments but also more willful in the lengths to which he will go to carry them out and procure subjects.  Ostensibly, this makes Hugo the active monster of the piece (he even gets scarred by acid at one point), and it indicates the idea that our soul is what makes us what we are.  Newbrook (no stranger to a film camera) almost never has Hugo onscreen alone.  He is quite often filmed in the same frame with whomever he is speaking.  The dual purpose served is that the film makes good use of the Todd-AO 35 (no relation) widescreen format, and it juxtaposes the physical representations of innocence and corruption, life and death for the audience to differentiate.  Conversely, it can be argued that Hugo acts the way he does out of concern for those he loves, and this transforms him into a more sympathetic monster.  But a monster, all the same.

Of course, the major theme of the film is one of immortality and its exploration.  It deals with the cost of eternal life, that it is no panacea for the emotional wounds we acquire through our (normally) short lives.  It also deals with forms of immortality, and I’m thinking here of two specific areas.  The idea that we (or our bloodlines and family names) become immortal by being carried on via our progeny.  Anna wants to give Hugo children, and Hugo couldn’t be happier.  Hugo’s son Clive (Ralph Arliss) and his wife are expected to carry on the Cunningham name, and later adopted son Giles (Robert Powell) and Hugo’s daughter Christina (Jane Lapotaire) are to carry this torch (hey, it was the nineteenth century).  But more interesting to me than this aspect is the one of immortality on film.  Hugo has created an early version of a film camera, his own film to use in it, and a means to project it onto a screen.  Moreover, the Asphyx itself is first suggested by smudges on images (possibly symbolizing a stain on the soul?), initially on static photos and later on moving film.  The spirit is ensnared by a special light used in Hugo’s filming process and held in perpetuity by same.  The ability to be seen by cameras and/or be seen by the means which allow cameras to “see” effects immortality.  It’s the same as when cinephiles talk about people like Marlon Brando or Orson Welles as being “immortalized on film.”  Only in The Asphyx, it’s a literal statement.

MVT:  The performances in the film go a long way in selling the story, and they also do a marvelous job generating sympathy and pathos.  The film could have been made with lesser executions in the acting department, but the ones here truly elevate some fascinating and entertaining material.

Make Or Break:  The Make is the scene where Giles and Hugo try to capture the Asphyx of an indigent man (Terry Scully) who suffers from tuberculosis.  It is gripping and powerful, and it focuses how the remainder of the film will proceed with its depictions of the price to be paid for immortality and whether or not it is worth the agony.

Score:  7.25/10

Saturday, March 23, 2013

Bonus #51: Stoker

Welcome to a special bonus episode of the GGtMC!!!

This week the Maple Warriors, Large William and Uncool Cat Chris, bring you a review of Park Chan-Wook's Stoker (2013) starring Nicole Kidman and Mia Wasikowska. 

Direct download: Stoker_Bonus_episode.mp3 
 
Emails to midnitecinema@gmail.com

Voicemails to 206-666-5207

Adios!!!




Wednesday, March 20, 2013

The Arrogant (1987)



Out of all the implements of death any character can have at their disposal, I think that the axe is perhaps the least well-used (just hear me out).  Since this is one of those things that can be debated ad nauseum, and since we’re not actually speaking (I know, my writing is so good that sometimes it feels like we are, but we’re not), I’ll just give you some of my reasoning on the matter.  The axe is a cleaving weapon.  Aside from having a spear point at the top end of the haft, the weapon can’t really be used for stabbing.  Add to that the fact that, typically, an axe (okay, maybe just a battleaxe) is not only heavy but top-heavy at that.  Almost any blow that can be delivered with an axe will usually be done by hauling off with both hands on the axe handle, thus  telegraphing your shot, so to speak, and giving the user no free hand to block any incoming attack.  Much like the three-section staff, the axe is a weapon which must be mastered to be used effectively.  Oh, sure, slashers have used axes to mount up a nice body count, but rarely are they used with any true finesse.  To my mind, only one fictional character (beside Paul Bunyan, but he had other advantages, a giant blue bull notwithstanding) has truly belonged with an axe in his hand, and that would be Conan of Cimmeria, by Crom.  Search your conscience.  You know I’m right on this one.

Giovanni (Gary Graham) is a bit of a spoiled prick.  At dinner with his Senator father-in-law (Joe Condon) and apparently his entire extended family, Giovanni and the old man basically tell each other how much they want each other dead.  Giovanni sneaks off, ostensibly to get some wine from the garage wine cellar but actually to bang his wife Elvira’s (Kimberly Baucum) sister Laticia (Leigh Wood).  Having picked up a black cat during all this (read: foreshadowing), Giovanni is confronted by the Senator on his way back to the dinner.  Wielding an axe, the Senator only succeeds in splitting the cat in twain (see?) and sending Giovanni through a window, a shard of which Giovanni uses to stab and kill the Senator.  Feeling suddenly unwelcome and wanting to continue his journey of bald-faced debauchery, Giovanni takes off on his motorcycle (and for the purposes of this review, I would suggest pronouncing it “motor-sickle” in your head as you read this) and makes for the desert.  There he picks up hitchhiking waitress Julie (the late, great Sylvia Kristel), and the pair travel around for the rest of the film.

To give you more of the “plot” of Philippe Blot’s The Arrogant (aka Sylvia Kristel’s Desires) would only wind up being an exercise in futility.  On that same note, if what I’ve written above entices you in any way to see this film, you have my sincerest apologies.  This can best be described as an Art film, though it’s not very artfully done.  The plot is set up like a series of vignettes punctuated by extended scenes (let’s call them diatribes) of Giovanni and Julie having “deep” philosophical debates.  In my opinion, Art films, like Science Fiction films should give you its points, raise questions, and give the viewer something on which to ponder.  The much-parodied dialogue style of this type of film is usually intentionally oblique (“You impede me.  I excrete you.” – thank you to Saturday Night Live’s “Sprockets” for that one).  It is meant to generate ideas, to engage the viewer and force (for lack of a better term) an active thought process in order to digest the work (though sometimes the intent is to confound, as well).  This is why Art films are so notoriously difficult to do well and why they are so easy to parody.  Blot’s film posits itself as an Art film, so we expect a bit of pretension to go with his ideas.  

Unfortunately, what we get is a lot of pretension and some seriously self-serious dialogue that could be called purple-nosed, since that is its style and placement.  Witness:  “There is nothing worse than virtue and those who speak of it.”  “You confuse rage with vengeance.”  “I am my king!  My master!  My fate and my god!”  “I don’t know anything about God, but you drive me into Hell.”  The list goes on.  It feels as if Blot took a few first year college philosophy classes and tried to do his best at aping what he thought he learned.  His visual style is no different.  A black limo follows Giovanni around, a symbol for his past following him as well as an angel of death biding its time for the right moment.  At one point, Giovanni seduces a young woman (Teresa Gilmore), and the scene is shot almost entirely from his perspective.  The few cut-aways in the scene are almost always of Giovanni’s eyes in extreme closeup, frozen in a lupine stare.  The obvious meaning is not just of the control of the male gaze but also that Giovanni is a wolf who takes what he wants.  All well and good, but the mashing together of the closeups with the POV camera work draws attention to itself and not in a good way.  Rather than permitting us to think about the film, Blot tells us what to think at almost every turn while managing to remain befuddling.  It is ham-fisted metaphoric filmmaking, and it all amounts to a lecture being delivered to the audience, something which most intelligent viewers will resist and resent (I’m not saying I’m oh-so-smart, but how much do you enjoy receiving a talking-to?).

The Arrogant is also very much a religious film, and calling it heavy-handed is like saying the McGuire Twins were kind of stocky.  Regardless of your own personal views on religion, it is blindingly obvious that Blot does believe in a higher power, and he goes out of his way to pound the audience over the head with his views on it.  Giovanni is a bad man, but he is also arrogant (hence the title) in thinking that he can continue to defy God without consequence.  He’s supposed to be an anti-hero, but he actually comes off as being extremely unsavory.   As a counterpoint (and the only way the film is made even remotely palatable), Julie tries to convince Giovanni that he’s wrong and headed for disaster.  That she puts up with Giovanni’s antics at all is mind-boggling, but more headache-inducing is how their relationship ultimately resolves itself.  The entire film is a series of encounters with Giovanni basically being a massive douche and then challenging Julie to prove that he’s wrong, when he does it himself.  On a moral rather than religious scale, any viewer can still recognize that Giovanni does evil simply for the sake of evil, but he couches it as an act of defiance toward God, as if that makes it okay.  When the final “twist” is revealed, though, it is not only conspicuously predictable but illogical by the film’s own logic.  Even an Art film needs to follow some of the rules it establishes for itself (including the rule that “there are no rules”).  When it doesn’t, as it doesn’t here, it reeks of laziness trying to disguise itself as avant-garde filmmaking, and to my mind, that’s more offensive than any sinning our main character can get up to.

MVT:  The best thing about this film is the desert setting.  I love films shot in the desert, and there’s so much that can be done with it, visually and thematically.  Blot does manage to wring some nice images from the backdrop.  Though outside of that and seeing a few naked/semi-naked women, there’s really no reason anyone should ever watch this film.

Make Or Break:  The Break is the philosophical debate scenes between Giovanni and Julie.  These circular dialectics (wow, that’s giving them a hell of a lot of credit) are over-emphasized in the film, and by about the third one, they have not only made their point, but also worn out their welcome, crapped on your favorite throw rug, and lit your aquarium on fire.  They are pure garbage, and that they are the seeming center point of the film speaks volumes.

Score:  3/10