Rat Man (1988)

I was not a huge fan of the show Friends, even when it was at its most popular.  Maybe it’s because I was severely inebriated much of the time it was first being shown.  Maybe it’s because these characters and their lifestyle were so alien to me.  Maybe it’s because the show isn’t very good.  Maybe it’s a combination of a multiplicity of factors.  Regardless, there was one bit they did on the show that has always stuck with me, and I still refer to it to this day.  Ditzy blonde Phoebe is talking with smarmy Chandler, and she inquires why Spider-Man isn’t pronounced like Goldman, Silverman, etcetera.  Chandler, astonished by this (more or less his permanent state of being throughout the series), explains that it’s “because it isn’t his last name, like Phil Spiderman.  He’s a Spider…Man.”  I catch myself far too often pronouncing the names of superheroes like Phoebe would, and, even though it’s not laugh out loud funny, I do find it endlessly amusing.  This is possibly the elitist comic book fan in me taking a poke at people who “aren’t in the know” or maybe just taking a poke at elitist comic book fans themselves.  That said, even though Peter Parker is not, in fact, part spider (I’m not as up on the character as I once was, so this may have changed), the little fella dubbed Mousey (Nelson de la Rosa, whom most people know, ironically enough, from the John Frankenheimer/Richard Stanley version of The Island of Dr. Moreau) in Giuliano Carnimeo’s (under the genius pseudonym Anthony Ascot) Rat Man (aka Quella Villa in fondo al Parco, which translates roughly to That Villa at the Bottom of the Park, which may very well be a better title or may simply be the film’s producers desperately trying to cash in on The Last House on the Left sixteen years later; leave it to the Italians to beat a dead horse into glue) most definitely is part rat.  The problem is, he’s also part monkey, so, if anything, the film should have been called Rat Monkey, but I guess that just sounded more like a nature documentary than a horror film.  I would rather watch that fictional documentary than either Friends or Rat Man ever again.

Crusty, sweaty Dr. Olman (Pepito Guerra) is set to unveil Mousey to the world at the next scientician conference when the little rascal makes good his escape.  Next thing you know, bikini models like Marilyn (Eva Grimaldi) are being spied on and chased around, and her sister Terry (the divine Janet Agren) has to team up with perpetually-open-shirted crime writer Fred (David Warbeck) to track her down and save her.  

Rat Man owes the entirety of its existence to two sources.  One is the Slasher film.  On top of Mousey’s natural predilection for murdering people thither and yon accompanied by copious amounts of blood, Carnimeo delights in two types of Slasher-esque shot whenever Mousey is around (which is constantly; this little fucker is more ubiquitous than air).  The first is the classic point of view shot, and, of course, it’s from Mousey’s perspective.  The thing of it is, these POV shots are overused, so they are not nearly as effective as they could be.  Every now and then, it might be nice to build a little tension by not signaling to the audience that the tiny terror is lurking just out of sight.  The second type of shot which is repeated early and often is the extreme closeup.  There are multiple cutaways to a detail of Mousey’s dark, little eyeball.  Later, there are closeups of his fangs and claws as he attacks.  These shots, in my opinion, work better than the flood of POV shots, but even these wear out their welcome and detract from what the audience wants to see, namely, the “critter from the shitter” (that’s part of one of the film’s taglines, and he does, indeed, crawl out of a toilet at one point in the movie) gnawing away at young, pink flesh and innards for minutes on end.

The other major influence on this movie, as you may have guessed, is H.G. Wells’ The Island of Dr. Moreau.  To be more precise, Carnimeo and company ignored the anti-vivisection angle of the novel, focusing on the juicier aspects.  For example, Mousey is a combination of animals in humanoid form.  Dr. Olman walks around in a Panama suit, was shunned by the scientific community for his activities, and cares more about proving the value of his work (the purpose of his experiments is never explained to us) than he does for any living thing.  Olman has a loyal assistant, Tonio, who fills the Montgomery role, though far more incompetently.  Marilyn and skanky photographer Mark (Werner Pochath) come to be at Olman’s villa because of a car wreck instead of a shipwreck, but the effect is the same.  Mousey revolts against Olman and causes havoc on the villa and its occupants, and this is the heart of what the film is in its entirety.  It’s little more than a drawn out, constant stream of “animal” attacks, none of which are suspenseful, and none of which are all that satisfying in the gore department, either.  Why Fred and Terry are in the film at all is mindboggling, since all they do is tool around looking vaguely inquisitive, are flat as a pancake character-wise, and serve no narrative function whatsoever other than to facilitate the indifferently obvious “twist” ending (though, I’ll be honest, I could stare at Agren all day, every day).

I’ve read in several places how this film is supposed to be a sleazy piece of trash.  I can verify the latter half of that statement, but the sleazy part has me confused.  There’s some nudity from Grimaldi, there’s some shitty gore (including a skull sitting in a puddle of what looks like Ragu spaghetti sauce), and Mousey himself certainly appears greasy as all hell.  But outside of that, Rat Man is tame stuff.  Worse than that, it is hardly a movie, as it doesn’t attempt to develop a story in any way.  It’s a very simple idea that, instead of doing anything interesting with, the filmmakers simply padded out with somnolent sequences that don’t go anywhere.  Mousey may be a critter, but perhaps he and this film would have been better off left in the shitter.            

MVT:  I want to give it to Janet Agren, just for being Janet Agren, but I’m going to have to go full-pig and give it to Grimaldi for stripping down and showing off her appreciable assets.

Make or Break:  Probably around the third or fourth time Carnimeo cut back to Terry and Fred driving around in the dark, as if they’re going to find anything remotely interesting in what is the ultimate in cinematic blue balls.

Score:  4.5/10

Exterminators Of The Year 3000 (1983)

The end is nigh. Always has been. Prophets, scientists, and madmen have been prophesizing the end of the world for years, centuries even. An Italian prophet, Savonarola, convinced artist Alessandro Botticelli and thousands of others that the Apocalypse would occur in the 16^th Century. Savonarola was eventually excommunicated and executed, Apocalypse-less. The Large Hadron Collider in Europe was feared for its potential to create a black hole big enough to swallow the Earth. It hasn't. Yet. Now they're using the machine to search for the hypothetical Higgs boson or "God Particle," and while there have been some murky results so far (at least from a lay perspective), it has also been speculated that the machine itself will not produce such a particle, because it knows that the consequences would very likely be catastrophic. That's like your car refusing to turn down a particular street, because it knows that a horrific accident awaits if you do. Super-chiseler-at-large Harold Camping predicted the Rapture would occur three separate times in three separate decades. Every time it didn't come to pass, a different, glib explanation was proffered as to why not.

Regardless of your personal religious/spiritual beliefs, the end of the world (and what will come after) has been big box office for decades. In the 1950s, movies like Arch Oboler's Five concentrated on the shakeup of American norms and mores. Would we maintain our stalwart values or devolve into animals in the face of civilization's destruction? In the anti-establishment, increasingly cynical 1960s, Earth-changing events took on a more fantastic element. From Day Of The Triffids to The Last Man On Earth, Armageddon was less likely to be caused by commie nukes than by viruses or aliens (of course, nuclear proliferation was still a consideration). Then in the 1970s, we were shown that not only had the much-feared nuclear holocaust already happened, but also the car stunts got about a million times better. 1979's Mad Max showcased a civilization holding on by its fingernails, where ultra-violent justice was meted out by leather-clad cops in super-charged cars. It was a game-changing film, and I would argue that every post-apocalyptic film since has borne a heavy influence from it and (at the very least) its first sequel, The Road Warrior.

Certainly, this is the case with Giuliano Carnimeo's (aka Jules Harrison) Exterminators Of The Year 3000. After the ozone belt portion of the stratosphere is destroyed by nuclear bombs, water becomes a scarcity. A small group of people hide out in caves, nurturing plants they plan to use to reinvigorate the planet's eco-system. The problem is plants need water, and the last person they sent out to get some still hasn't returned. Young Tommy (Luca Venantini) is more concerned than most, because it's his father that's missing. He stows away on the next tanker that is sent out to get water, but their convoy is attacked by Crazy Bull (Fernando Bilbao) and his dune-buggy-riding minions, who are lured by the sight of the tanker and the prospect of an easy target. Tommy escapes death along with the map to the secret water reservoir. Eventually, he comes upon thief, murderer, and all-around scumbag, Alien (Robert Iannucci). Tommy tries to convince Alien to help his people restore the planet, but Alien is only looking out for Alien. Will Alien finally become an altruist and discover true friendship and a purpose to life? Eh. Not really.

This is an example of what is sometimes referred to as "Pasta-pocalypse Cinema." Seeing as how it was an Italian/Spanish co-production, you can guess why. It has the "futuristic" fashions we've come to expect: Lots of leather and exposed skin (odd considering the lack of ozone in this future), motocross and football pads, studs, spikes, and chains wherever they can be added. And let's not forget the eyeliner/face makeup. All the vehicles are re-purposed from "the past." Apparently, every car in the future needs bars and grates across the windows and the front grill (and often over the wheel wells). Basically, they're "hoopties." Villains are required to ride in open-air autos. There are lots of dune buggies (though nothing as eye-catching as the one in Alabama's Ghost), dirt bikes, and pickups with the roofs removed. Settings are comprised of deserts and rock quarries, anything that can be done with a minimum of set dressing or permits. All of these requirements are met by this film. Unfortunately, it doesn't do much more than meet the basics. Even Alien/Crazy Bull's car, "The Exterminator," fails to impress as "the most powerful car in all the forbidden lands" (and if anarchy reigns, who declares areas "forbidden," anyway?). The interior consists of some flashing lights and a TV monitor for driving with the venetian blinds closed (yes, really). Absolutely nothing out of the ordinary is done with this vehicle. It doesn't talk, have flamethrowers or missiles, or even seem to handle all that well. The last of the V-8 Interceptors has nothing to fear from the Exterminator.

On the subject of Mad Max influences, the largest of them must be addressed. That would be car stunts. Miller's film, as it's been said dozens, if not hundreds, of times, captured the high adrenaline feel of super-fast car chases. The use of undercranked cameras and low-angle shots turned scenes of cars speeding around the roads of Australia into virtual car pornography. Carnimeo's film, by contrast, does not. Oh, there are enough car chases, and some of the stuntwork is even impressive. The problem is twofold. One, the style of shooting and editing these sequences together is flat. They're mostly shot from a good distance away and the shots hold for so long (probably for padding reasons), they lose any dynamism they may have had. Two, the sequences themselves overstay their welcome. Hard to believe in a film where they're the main attraction, but when the action is so lackluster, you'd prefer them not to stick around. There are some nice, slow motion shots, but they're rare and simply not enough to sustain prolonged interest.

Generally speaking, these films are thematically concerned with two ideas. One is how we got here. This is typically an anti-war/anti-nuke sentiment and is used more as exposition than having anything intrinsically to do with the story. In Max's world, gas becomes a rare commodity, in Alien's world, it's water. This reflects the second theme – how we get to tomorrow. Funnily, Carnimeo's movie has the more interesting variation on this idea. After all, you can't live without water, but you can get from place to place without a car. The mistake the filmmakers make is in giving this aspect short shrift. The quest for water is nothing more than a McGuffin to string together action scenes (and is presented as such). This apathy pervades the film and only helps drag it down, in my opinion, particularly once we get to the end.

This movie is not done any favors by the writers or actors either. The dialogue is in the realm of "So Bad It's Good." Witness: "Once more into the breach, you mother-grabbers. Let's purloin that water." "A snakebite's better than a kiss from you." "Even a son of a bitch has a soul." And many more. Tragically, it just doesn't help to elevate the movie, even on a kitsch level. The thespian antics are spastic and po-faced simultaneously, but they're nothing more nor less than what you would expect from the time and place of the film's production.

The only scene that I found truly engaging was in the warehouse with the underground reservoir. There are a bunch of great, pulp-style deathtraps, including a spiked, whirling log on chains and light-triggered arrows. Plus, the place is guarded by fire-and-brimstone-shouting mutants dressed like members of A.I.M. But it's just too little, too late to bring this movie out of the morass of mediocrity. When all's said and done, Exterminators Of The Year 3000 is strictly middle-of-the-road.

MVT: The car stuntwork is plentiful, and there are some decent enough gags. It's their monotonous handling that drains the excitement from them.

Make or Break: The "Break" for me was the final scene, where a Deus Ex Machina of the highest order negates everything that came before. In a film that's not about much to begin with, somehow they managed to make it about even less.

Score: 5/10