Showing posts with label Daniel Steinmann. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Daniel Steinmann. Show all posts

Tuesday, December 4, 2012

The Unseen (1980)

I don’t really get sick.  Oh, I get a nice head cold once or twice a year, and I have hay fever that would debilitate a lesser man, but it’s rare for me to contract something akin to the flu (and bear in mind, I’m in and out of multiple people’s houses everyday in the course of my job).  I don’t chalk this up to having an iron constitution or anything of the sort.  As a matter of fact, I’d probably just call it dumb luck.  However, when I do get the flu, I get it bad.  I don’t just get a fever, headache, and nausea.  I get a high fever, migraines, and a stomach so twisted it’s nothing short of crippling.  Often, this also leads to fever dreams which, for as bizarre and interesting as they are, I could frankly do without on the whole.  What I’m getting at is even at my worst, even when I’m vomiting so much and so hard that it feels like the only thing I have left to bring up is my own anus (if it were someone else’s, I’d really be worried), I have never coughed during the act.  This is one of those cinema tropes which has always bugged me, that people will spit up a bit and then erupt in a coughing jag that would make a “lunger” green with envy.  I get that it’s called “acting,” but to my mind, this is the kind of thing that’s simply not true to life.  Even in Horror movies.

Television reporter Jennifer Fast (Barbara Bach) walks out (ironically enough) on beau Tony (Doug Barr, who you may recall as Howie Munson on TV’s The Fall Guy), who has recently undergone knee surgery.  Traveling with sister Karen (Karen Lamm) and assistant Vicki (Lois Young) to the hamlet of Solvang (an anagram for Vanglos, in case you were wondering), the three find the local hotel completely booked up.  Coming upon the Union Hotel and its not-at-all-creepy proprietor Ernest (Sydney Lassick) they ask for a room, but are informed that it’s just a museum.  However, he can let them stay at his house, where fragile wife Virginia (Lelia Goldoni) takes care of things.  But the horrors to come are still (wait for it) unseen.

If my synopsis for Danny Steinmann’s (director of the Linda Blair vehicle Savage Streets, here credited as Peter Foleg) The Unseen seems a bit slight and not all that scary, that’s because the film is a bit slight and not all that scary.  It has all the elements for a Horror film, and it puts them mostly in the right order.  Nonetheless, the filmmakers don’t seem to want to focus on the people ostensibly set up as the heroines of the piece.  If anything, this is more the story of the twisted Keller family, and had they played up the skeezy, gothic elements associated with them, this could very well have been a decent little Psychodrama.  Instead, they tried to force a standard Slasher structure onto the film, and I feel that it suffers greatly as a result.  It also doesn’t help that the acting seesaws between wooden and manic (with Lassick earning the coveted BEM Award for overdoing it this time out).  Sure, the viewers’ fingernails will dig rivulets into their arm rests, but it’s strictly a reaction to the thespian skills on display and the film’s lumbering plot, not due to any tension constructed by Steinmann and company.

It’s impossible to discuss this film in any detail without some form of SPOILERS, although it could also be argued that this is an unspoilable film, since one of the big twists (out of two) is only a twist in its appearance and has probably been discussed more than Rosebud (okay, not really).  Ready?  Here we go.  So, former Flounder Stephen Furst plays Junior Keller (aka the titular Unseen), the large mongoloid offspring of Ernest and Virginia who have kept him locked in the basement, assumedly since he could walk (and not in the attic where this sort of familial black eye is normally secreted away).  He is the murderer of two of the female characters, but it is Ernest who is the true villain of this flick, and we get that simply upon first sight.  Why else would you cast Lassick, unless you were looking for an unctuous yet somewhat effete character that is instantly untrustworthy and unlikable?  Regardless, it is Ernest’s relationship with not only Junior but also Virginia which underpins the major themes in the movie.  That the filmmakers tried to have these same themes mirrored by Jennifer and her relationship with Tony is admirable but also ineffective (I can only assume they couldn’t afford Bach’s salary to keep her onscreen longer).

The first of the major themes is one of children and parents, specifically mothers.  Virginia is a mother in a very traditional sense.  She stays at home and takes care of the house and cooks and cleans.  She is also abused mentally and physically.  Jennifer, by contrast, is an independent woman and doesn’t want a child at this point in her career.  She has repressed her mothering instinct (though it can just as easily be argued that she has none as portrayed in Bach’s icy performance), and this is conveyed in the first scenes of the film.  Jennifer walks out on Tony as he struggles to lift weights with his repaired knees (and Steinmann’s insistence on showing a closeup of his scar drives home the point that Tony is an incomplete man and in need of someone who can care for him, though not to the point an infant would).  Naturally then, when Jennifer is confronted with Junior, she must essentially face “the return of the repressed.”  What she has attempted to kill in her own life now threatens that life in a much larger (and terminal) fashion.  What’s interesting (or at least befuddling) is that we are given no indication as to how any of this will affect her life in the future.  We see the actions that she takes, but it is difficult to believe that her ordeals will strengthen her maternal impulses and change her mind about having a child of her own.  In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if she had her tubes tied after the film fades out.  Again, the film’s focus is rooted in the Kellers (not the outsiders), and it is how Virginia and Ernest act which depicts any character growth.

The second theme I’d like to touch on deals with forgetting and burying the past (which can also be read as guilt).  Here, we should be paying attention to Jennifer and Tony in this regard, but pretty much everything which the filmmakers have to say about the two is put out in the first scene and then all but hung out to dry.  No, it is the Kellers who encompass this theme almost in its entirety.  Virginia has been scarred by the past actions which have formed her present situation.  Junior is a living embodiment of the malignant past which birthed him (though he acts merely within his severe limitations and without malice).  Ernest, who is the catalyst for everything bad in the Kellers’ lives, is himself a victim of the past.  Yet in the past, when Ernest acted out to escape from the cycle of abuse which defined his young life, he only made things worse and progressed (some would argue regressed) from there, thus further perpetuating the cycle.  He owns a hotel which was turned into a museum, a place and livelihood literally trapped in the past.  To be fair, there is a certain richness in this material.  The filmmakers just didn’t dig into it past a surface level, and consequently The Unseen is a film which should resonate but ultimately doesn’t.

MVT:  Furst’s Junior is the standout of the film.  For the first few minutes he’s onscreen, he is moderately impressive and not a little creepy.  Unfortunately, when he starts doing things which are a bit on the ridiculous side (in Furst’s defense, a preoperational child would very likely behave in the same fashion), any sense of unease quickly turns to comedy.  It’s a shame, really.

Make Or Break:  The Break is the scene where Ernest gets drunk and has a conversation with a family member.  Not only is it leaden with hamfisted exposition, but it also gives us some truly overwrought acting which just crushes any expectations you might have for the film’s remainder.

Score:  5/10

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Wednesday, June 6, 2012

Savage Streets (1984)


When the name Linda Blair is mentioned, the first thing people think of is The Exorcist (Admit it. You do). It doesn't matter if they are fans of horror movies or of bodice-ripping melodramas. It doesn't matter if they've seen a photo of the woman out of the Regan MacNeil possession makeup or in the past almost-forty years. It doesn't matter whether they've even seen the movie or not. The film and its imagery are embedded in our cultural psyche like a wood tick. Unfortunately, this means that Ms. Blair's career has also been overshadowed by the success of her early role. So, achievements like the Linda Blair WorldHeart Foundation, which rescues abused animals, don't spring to mind immediately (and, no, I have no affiliation with the organization, though I believe they're doing good work). I would wager that, if she had made more movies like Daniel Steinmann's Savage Streets (aka Zombie Brigade [?!]) or Roller Boogie and had skipped William Friedkin's horror classic, she would be remembered in a far different light. Whether that's good or bad (or indifferent) depends entirely on what you like to watch.

Brenda (Blair) struts the…um…wild streets of Los Angeles with her gang of female hellraisers (The Satins) and her über-innocent sister, Heather (Linnea Quigley). Meanwhile, Jake (Robert Dryer) and his gang of toughs (The Scars) cruise the same…er…untamed streets in Fargo's (Sal Landi) vintage convertible. After taking said car for a joyride, the boys have it in for the girls in a bad way. The bad boys (who are also drug dealers, just so you know) escalate things to the point of no return, and Brenda arms herself with a crossbow and various implements, taking her vengeance out onto the…uh…vicious streets.

Just about every conventionally narrative film needs to have a protagonist and an antagonist in order to work. When they're well-made, the characters on either side of this equation have some depth to them (not that they are as real as you or I, but they are more rounded than a cardboard cutout). Sometimes, filmmakers use shorthand signifiers to show us whether the characters are good or bad and to what extent. Jake has a razor blade earring, is not classically attractive, and laughs (with his whole mouth) a lot at everything (and especially if they're things we know people shouldn't laugh at). He is evil. Heather is wide-eyed, blond, and cute as a button, and she dresses in long, almost Cleaver-esque skirts. Plus, she likes to dance by herself and is deaf. She is good (too good, in fact). Vince (Johnny Venocur) changes from "normal" teenaged clothing into his gang clothes and smiles uncomfortably at all of Jake and the gang's antics. He is right in the middle, but he thinks he wants to be bad. So, what's wrong with these things, that they ring hollow? Nothing, in and of themselves, but their depictions on screen are so bluntly on the nose and in your face, you can't help but feel just a twinge of resentment while still enjoying it.

The film carries heavy family undercurrents but not strictly in a traditional sense. Even though she's a hardass from the very beginning of the film, Brenda is intensely protective and mothering to Heather. We find out later on that their mother is struggling to keep their family together, working multiple jobs. She even has to leave a situation we wouldn't expect a mother to ever leave, because she has to work. But Brenda doesn't really blame her mother for leaving the girls to essentially raise themselves. She recognizes that her mother is doing everything she can to support her family. Nonetheless, Brenda doesn't go to her mother for any sort of comfort, either. Instead, she turns to Charlene (Paula Shaw), who apparently owns the club The Satins frequent. Added to that is the gang's support of their leader, forming an ad hoc, gynocentric family unit, but this one actually works somewhat. Naturally, there are men allowed but only on the outskirts and in an ancillary fashion. The Satins all wear the same style jacket, linking them together visually as well as in a sisterly fashion. On the other side of that coin, Vince goes from a (assumed) more stable home life to the ultra-macho Scars. We never find out if Vince is accepted within his natural family, but he wants more than anything for Jake and his crew to recognize his worth. These starkly drawn gender lines mark the film's conflict primarily as male versus female.

Speaking of gender issues, there is a profoundly homoerotic vibe in almost every scene involving The Scars. While the women regularly get naked and shower in front of each other (at least it sure feels that way), there are no sexual undertones (except, of course, for the obvious ones aimed at the viewer) between them. In fact, when the women are unclothed together, a catfight usually breaks out, and if they aren't unclothed when a catfight lets loose, one of them most assuredly is by the time it finishes. The men, on the other hand, are focused on sex constantly (consensual or non) and in relation to each other. Jake kisses Fargo full on the mouth after threatening him. Red (Scott Mayer) moans that he wants to watch Jake going after someone ("do it," I believe is the expression he uses), and that there's nothing wrong with him wanting to watch, right? They also constantly have their hands on each other in a non-platonic sort of way. And let's not even get into the outfits these guys wear (with Fargo being the most Village-People-ian). So, not only are The Scars the ultra-violent villains of the piece, they're also semi-closeted homosexuals. 

At its heart, though, Savage Streets is a revenge flick, so everything should be geared up to propel us forcefully into the harrowing third and final act. What we get outside of the main action are subplots which barely tie into the main plot at all. The most glaring is the one involving cheerleader Cindy (Rebecca Perle) and her feud with Brenda over Cindy's beau Wes (Brian Frishman, credited as Brian Mann), who Brenda doesn't care for in the least. Aside from one plot point, this subplot develops nothing, goes on entirely too long (if all it is intended as is a catalyst for bad things to happen), and barely resolves itself. However, it does give the ever-haggard Principal Underwood (the late, great John Vernon) the opportunity to ogle Brenda and pass appallingly creepy comments about her looks. Of course, all this melodrama gives absolutely everyone involved in this movie the chance to overact and grimace (and earn the entire cast the golden BEM Award). Nevertheless, we do eventually get to the big showdown (replete with heroic montage and hot licks), but with the exception of the final few minutes, the whole event feels matter-of-fact. And the one area a revenge film cannot fail is in the revenge portion. So, does this one ultimately satisfy? It's certainly sleazy, and there's enough pulchritude on display to mollify some. But to fumble on the goal line like this film does after all the anticipation turns what could have been a classic of the subgenre into a banausic proceeding.

MVT: The level of scenery chewing from start to finish leads me to believe that the entire cast and crew ripped out the dictionary page containing the word "subtle" and used it to snort mountains of blow.

Make Or Break: The revenge scene only gets it about half right. Ergo, I feel compelled to call it a half-Make and half-Break, simultaneously. The entirety of this sequence should have been a succession of "punch the air" moments. Instead, you kind of feel like punching yourself in the face. 

Score: 6.5/10

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