Sorceress (1982)

The Corsican Brothers is a story by Alexandre Dumas which first saw print in 1844.  In it, the brothers de Franchi, Louis and Lucien, are former conjoined twins who still share a bond that allows (you could argue suffers) them to feel each other’s pain.  If this sounds familiar, it should.  The idea has been adapted to numerous ends over the years.  Of course, there is the eponymous 1941 film starring Douglas Fairbanks Jr (and it should be stated, cinematic adaptations of the novella go back as far as 1898 according to my research), as well as the comedic reworking from Cheech & Chong (of these two, this is the one I’ve watched, for better or worse).  Then there are the maleficent twins Tomax and Xamot from the G.I. Joe cartoons, comics, et cetera.  Even the classic children’s educational show The Electric Company got into the act, though the brothers were renamed Miguel and Ramon and taught us how to form words using sounds like “ow.”  Outside of the obvious comic appeal of the concept, the conceit is intriguing.  It shows us, quite dramatically, that the bonds of family, of blood, are stronger than anything else, and this connection can never be severed, despite our possible desire to do so.  Jack Hill’s (aka Brian Stuart, a pseudonym used after a falling out between the director and Roger Corman, the film’s producer; if memory serves, it’s the name of Corman’s nephew, but don’t quote me on that) Sorceress also deals with the core of The Corsican Brothers, though one would be hard-pressed to say that it handles it even half as carefully or intelligently as Messrs. Chong and Marin.

On a sultry, fog-shrouded night, Traigon (Roberto Ballesteros) and his cronies hunt down Traigon’s wife, who has fled with their newborn twin daughters.  Unable to tell which of the two is the first born (this is crucial for Traigon’s sacrificial plans, though not nearly as crucial as you’d think, as we will learn later), the nefarious sorcerer is thwarted by aged magician and martial artist Krona (Martin LaSalle), who spirits the girls away, gives them some ill-defined superpowers, and spouts some prophetic gunk about them being “the two who are one.”  Fast forward to Mara and Mira’s (Lynette and Leigh Harris, respectively) voluptuous young adulthood, where they inevitably find themselves on the path to slay Traigon and stop his plan along with a small group of disparate allies (Baldar, a Viking [Bruno Rey], Pando, a satyr [David Millbern], and Erlick, a barbarian [Roberto Nelson]).

I know I made a big deal about the Corsican Brothers angle, but aside from the constant reference to “the two who are one” (a phrase which characters spout as if it had been drilled into their heads from birth but without any other context than that it’s important; it’s not), there is only one allusion to the psychic/sensual bond that the sisters share.  Of course, it takes place when one of the twins is having sex, and it gives the filmmakers the impetus to have the other sibling writhe on the ground in orgasmic ecstasy (it should be stated that screenwriter Jim Wynorski’s fingerprints are all over this film, this being one of the larger marks left on it).  So, why make the girls be cosmically/mystically conjoined?  Outside of the standard prophecy angle of the Sword and Sorcery genre, the answer is novelty.  More precisely, it’s the novelty of having two beautiful twins who aren’t afraid to doff their clothes in this milieu.  There is nothing going on in this story that in any way expands on this idea of bonding (at least not that I could see).  Fair play, since the film was a financial hit for Corman and New World Pictures, so the absolute minimum you can say is that one, it is distinguished from other efforts in this genre in this regard, and two, the producers certainly knew their target demographic.

To no one’s surprise, I’m about to labor a point, so bear with me.  There is a heavy religious angle at work in Sorceress, and it all starts at the opening.  The twins are being spirited away from religious zealots who would kill them, shades of the story of Moses (no floating them off down a river, however).  Krona is a Judeo-Christian God parallel with his long beard and mane of hair, his simple attire, and his invulnerability to things like fire.  Krona gives the twins to a couple of lowly goat herders to raise, and these two form a correlation to Joseph and Mary, the lowly carpenter and his wife who reared Jesus to adulthood at the request of God.  Naturally, this being a Sword and Sorcery film, Traigon’s religion is considered evil, calling as it does for the sacrifice of a human being in order to attain some nefarious end.  This also circles back around to more Christian references (are you tired of them yet?).  The face of Kalghara (Germaine Simiens), Traigon’s bad deity, is half serpentine, a Satan reference.  The good deity, Vital (Vitara?  I couldn’t tell completely), is a winged, lion-esque creature.  In combination with the sacrificial element of the film, he and the twins symbolize the duology of Jesus, who was referred to at one point as both the “conquering Lion” and “the Lamb who was slain.”  These are not exactly straight lines I’m drawing between this picture and its biblical references (and I would be shocked as all hell if they were overtly intended, but I believe this is likely one of those times when themes and motifs appear unconsciously in a piece of work for any number of reasons).  After all, the film has to satisfy its generic requirements.  But they seemed pretty obvious to me (and I haven’t opened a Bible in decades).  Nevertheless, I don’t recall horny satyrs or horny ape creatures in the Bible, so I could be wrong about all of it.    

Sorceress has enough interesting things going on, at least from a visual angle to make it worth seeing.  Unfortunately, it’s also pretty slapdash in a lot of ways, and there are dollops of broad humor that make a pie in the face look like a Lenny Bruce monologue (an ape gets shot in the ass with an arrow, a troop of zombies molest a gaggle of vestal virgins to a “what can you do?” aside from Baldar).  This is the type of film wherein every character will believe absolutely anything they’re told.  Mara and Mira believe they are boys, despite the obvious physical differences (even if they had never seen a man in their entire lives, did they never notice or question the differences between their parents?), and don’t know quite what to make of Pando’s engorged penis (okay, that was actually kind of funny).  Worse, the other characters believe the twins are boys up until they disrobe in front of them.  No one is that naïve.  No one.  Traigon’s whole scheme calls for the virginal sacrifice of the first born of the twins but after she’s been impregnated (huh?!).  One of Traigon’s soldiers commands the girls be taken alive and then commands their deaths not even a minute later.  

Still and all, there are things to enjoy, as well (one could argue that the things I just mentioned are some of them).  You get a medieval set of nunchucks.  You get a decent amount of female nudity (and even some male butt).  But more than that, you get a movie that feels like a rollicking, carefree adventure, not so much because you’re glued to your seat following its progression in peaks and valleys, but because you can enjoy the gleefully madcap, thrown-in-a-blender nuttiness that occurs constantly throughout it.  Yes, Sorceress is a mud puddle of a film, but it’s a mud puddle that’s kind of fun to slop around in from time to time.

MVT:  John Carl Buechler’s creature and makeup effects are imaginative and skillfully done.

Make or Break:  Honestly, for this film I have to go with the skinnydipping scene.  It has a little nudity, a little creature effects work, and a little juvenile humor that just about works.  Something for everyone.

Score: 6/10

Full Eclipse (1993)

“The Wolfman.” “The Howling.” “An American Werewolf in London.” “Dog Soldiers.” “Ginger Snaps.” These are but a few classic werewolf films to grace the silver screen since the dawn of film. All of them had style, mood, atmosphere, intrigue, and finesse that catapulted them into the stratosphere. All of them were missing one key ingredient, however, to put them on the map as the greatest of all time. They were all missing Mario Van Peebles.

“Full Eclipse” has Mario Van Peebles, in the lead role no less, yet it surprisingly isn’t the greatest film of all time. It even has a premise that seemingly can’t be flubbed. A select group of Los Angeles police officers are injected with a serum that gives them the abilities of a werewolf. It brings them back from the dead, makes them nearly invincible, and skyrockets razor sales in the community. This makes the officers the ultimate defense in wiping out crime in the city.

And yet, “Full Eclipse” is lackluster. Not terrible, mind you, just very vanilla. It’s a run-of-the-mill crime actioner with werewolves thrown into the mix. Except that the werewolves aren’t as impactful as one would expect. Rarely do the cops transform completely, either growling (like a cheetah for some reason) and leaping tall bounds in their human form and occasionally sprouting fangs and claws to dice through criminals with. This does make sense, as a majority of the action takes place during the day and/or not during a full moon, so a full transformation wouldn’t suffice. The writers, Richard Christian Matheson & Michael Reaves, could’ve gotten around this by having the serum give the officers the ability to transform at will. It wouldn’t have been too tacky seeing how it gives them immediate healing factors and the ability to don claws and fangs at will.

The real reason for the lack of werewolf makeup is a minimal budget. “Full Eclipse” was made for HBO and, while boasting slick production values, it had to scrimp on the special effects. When we finally do see a full-blown transformation, it’s rather chintzy. Therefore, we’re left with adequately framed action set pieces. There are shootouts in night clubs and on the streets, as well as an intense drive-by. Said drive-by is the only unique action set piece, as it has one of the newly minted werecops hopping on the back of a perp’s motorcycle and crashing them both into a brick wall, causing a massive explosion (naturally). The werecop emerges from the flames unscathed and the denizens of Los Angeles are too smug to even notice. I initially questioned why the werecops weren’t acting subtly, but I guess there’s no need to.

That werecop is Jim Sheldon (Anthony John Denison), partner to our hero, Max Dire (Mario Van Peebles). And yes, Max Dire is his actual name. My friend grew tired of my constant dire puns throughout the film, but can you blame me? I’m surprised his partner wasn’t called Jim Grim, and even more surprised nobody in the film made the lousy puns that I did. For shame! Anyhow, Jim is gearing up for marriage and retirement, which means he’s going to die. And die he does, only to be brought back to life via the werewolf serum. He celebrates by performing the aforementioned motorcycle stunt, then puts a silver bullet through his brains later that night. When you vow to retire in a cop thriller, you will die one way or another.

Max is understandably confused by all of this, though Mario Van Peebles doesn’t quite show that in his performance. He always comes across as mildly perturbed no matter the situation. Partner dies, comes back to life, acts superhuman, and then shoots himself? Act mildly perturbed. You get shot through the heart and then are forcefully given the werewolf serum you’ve been protesting? Act mildly perturbed. Receive your check for starring in a made-for-TV werewolf flick? Laugh all the way to the bank. Mario does a fine job of dispensing charm into his role, but he’s given no direction by Anthony Hickox in how to handle the more dramatic elements. He’s simply here to snarl, shoot guns, look good in a suit, and charm the pants off of everyone.

Not helping “Full Eclipse” is the lack of a strong villain. There’s a dispensable mobster who acts as a target for the werecops. He’s so disposable that his name escapes me, so I’ll just refer to him as Mobster McGee. And that’s the only time I’ll refer to him, as he takes a backseat to the true villain, Adam Garou (Bruce Payne). He is the one responsible for recruiting the werecops and in orchestrating their attacks. It comes as no surprise that he’s corrupt as Payne’s performance spells it out for us. No good man gets into the fetal position on a chair whilst listening to his headphones unless that man is pining for his long-lost love. Garou does this randomly, which means he’s evil.

I wouldn’t call “Full Eclipse” boring, but it’s certainly underwhelming. It presents a tremendous premise, only to barely do anything with it. It’s a decent at best crime actioner and a lame werewolf flick. At least Mario Van Peebles looks good in a suit.

MVT: The action sequences. They’re framed well and, while rudimentary, fulfill their purpose and are slightly entertaining. That motorcycle stunt was fascinating.

Make or Break: The concept as a whole. It’s unique enough to keep one’s interest, but also not explored enough to be of great interest. Mileage may vary on how long it’ll keep your interest.

Final Score: 5.25/10

Fatal Games (1984)

The students at the Falcon Academy of Athletics in Massachusetts strive their little hearts out to be the very best in their chosen disciplines.  However, once they all make it to “The Nationals” (because, hey, they’re each the very best in their chosen disciplines), they start dropping like flies when a mad javelin thrower starts picking them off, one by one.

So, that’s basically Michael Elliott’s Fatal Games (aka Olympic Nightmare aka The Killing Touch), and it’s a film about drive and obsession.  The kids in the film are compelled to push themselves further every day, and while they don’t choose the augmentation of their regimens, they go along with it to the point that they become taken over by the desires of the adults in their lives.  The students begin to reflect the “winning is everything” mentality of guys like Coach Webber (Christopher Mankiewicz).  Before they made “The Nationals,” the kids behaved like just that: kids.  At the celebration dinner which opens the film, the students surreptitiously throw food at each other, and wind up playing tug of war with the tablecloth while some moneyed windbag drones on about how proud of them he is.  After this celebration, the kids become much more focused on exceeding their limits.  For example, Nancy (Melissa Prophet) turns down an offer to go out and party in order to pump iron.  Joe (Nicholas Love), also turns them down, at least in part because he is essentially a self-loathing rage-o-holic, and the film allows us to believe that he became this way through his compulsion to do better at javelin tossing.  He remains out on the field, throwing pointed sticks and visibly berating himself for his deficiencies.  Even Frank (Michael O’Leary), the class quasi-clown, develops this neurosis.  After injuring his leg, he tells the others to keep practicing in a scene reminiscent of the classic, clichéd War film scenario where the injured soldier implores his brothers-in-arms to “go on without me.”  The yearning to be number one is toxic for these young adults, something which rings very true, considering that there are far too many real life stories of this ilk out there.

Likewise, in the quest for physical/athletic perfection, there is the notion of “the dream” (as in “living…”).  That said, these dreams appear more than anything else to be those of the adults who live vicariously through the kids who may achieve the goals they themselves couldn’t reach.  Coach Webber is the Type A guy who barks at the students for their flaws and then comforts them quickly afterward, like a pimp working one of his girls.  In private, he pisses and moans about “the kids today” lacking the passion that they had back when he was a little nipper, et cetera, et cetera.  Dr. Jordine (played by the director) essentially believes in juicing in order “to push [the students’] athletic potential to their limits.”  The kids gather for their regularly scheduled medical appointments to not only get check-ups but also to receive their new experimental drug diets (is it any wonder, then, that Joe is so tense?).  Sweet girl-next-door Annie (Lynn Banashek) is put on drugs in order to stop her breasts from growing.  They physically retard a natural process for the sake of gymnastics, but she goes along with it because adults know best, and she wants to make them happy.  And while Nurse Diane (Sally Kirkland) voices her disapproval (kind of quietly, all things considered) of Jordine’s approach, she goes along with it, as well.  Phil’s (Sean Masterson) dad gets Phil a tryout with a professional baseball club (Phil is a Track and Field guy).  This isn’t about Phil’s dream to play for the Yankees or any other team.  It’s about his father’s desire to fit Phil into the mold he has carved out for his son.  The adults in Fatal Games are, it could be argued, more dangerous to the kids than the mad javelin chucker.  At least with a javelin through your torso, it’s all over; you’re dead.  It’s the long, slow, painful process of the adults eroding these youths’ wills and self-esteem that is infinitely more damaging than the killer.

To call this a Slasher film is a bit misleading.  Yes, there is an unknown killer taking out the students in mildly interesting sequences.  Yes, there is a final girl who refuses to have sex with her beau before marriage (after going over to his place, he does push-ups, which is funny since, one, it reinforces the idea that these youngsters are more obsessed with their physiques than with the normal drives of young adults, and two, he seems perfectly okay with not getting laid even though that was the whole point of his relentless push to get this girl over to his pad [I would argue this ties in with the first point, as well]).  Yes, there is a deep red herring, who you know isn’t the killer because that would be entirely too obvious (go on and guess who it is).  Yes, everyone in this film wanders around dark buildings without even thinking of turning on a fucking light, positively begging to get speared.  Yes, it has characters too stupid to call the police when students go missing.  Yes, it has a climactic reveal as dumb and confusing as it is intriguing.  But the kills are almost afterthoughts in this film.  They just pop up every now and then in order to fill their quota and then go away.  The film is much more interested in the lives of the kids and the abusive, masochistic relationship they have with the adults in their lives.  But even this plays like flat, bad soap opera-esque melodrama.  It’s all superficial character sketches and attempts at tension in order to build sympathy for the victims which, sadly, just don’t work.  The film plays largely like an episode of Kids, Incorporated in terms of how these are rote scenarios for rote characters in between mini-set pieces that still don’t fully satisfy as they should, because, with the exception of one, the kill scenes are filmed in the most unimaginative ways possible.  The filmmakers also could have improved Fatal Games greatly with a stronger commitment to the story they were telling and developing their characters beyond being merely snapshots from a high school yearbook.  Fatal Games is a film that should have profited (ironically) from the boundary-pushing attitude of its characters.  It just doesn’t have the Eye of the Tiger.

MVT:  The primary conceit of the destructive influence of adults and the cult of physique/perfection on young athletes is a rich vein to mine.  The film only digs down a few inches, unfortunately.

Make or Break:  The swimming pool scene is actually pretty good, and is even vaguely reminiscent of the “white bathing suit” scene from The Creature from the Black Lagoon.  None of the film’s remainder lives up to this.

Score:  4/10     

Curve (2015)

“Curve” is “The Hitcher” meets “127 Hours.” “The Hitcher” aspect comes from Mallory Rutledge (Julianne Hough) being stalked by a hitchhiker, Christian Laughton (Teddy Sears). He seems sweet and innocent at first, helping her fix her broken-down jeep and giving her therapy in regard to her flailing relationship with her fiancé. Then he turns on a dime, making wildly inappropriate sexual remarks and pulls a knife on her. He demands she drive to an abandoned motel where she will eventually meet her demise. Instead, she drives the jeep off a cliff in the hopes of maiming her captor.

Mallory winds up maiming herself, entrapped in her overturned jeep. This is where the “127 Hours” aspect comes into play. Mallory’s leg is trapped between the car door and the tree branch keeping it shut. Her only way of escape is to saw off her leg, which Christian finds wickedly amusing. He made it out of the crash unscathed and is enjoying his target’s anguish. He gets off on his victims’ misery, which is why he’d rather leave her hanging rather than kill her.

I was watching this movie with a friend and we both joked that she should’ve driven off the cliff. This is one of those cases where the movie responds to your request accordingly, and, in Mallory’s case, one of those times when it shouldn’t have. Of course, we suggested she jump out of the car as she drove it off the cliff, so the movie didn’t completely listen to us. Though if it did, it would’ve been over rather quickly. That or it would’ve been a run-of-the-mill cat and mouse thriller in which the hitchhiker would stalk Mallory through the desert.

It’s because of the unique angle the film takes that it works. The arrival to Mallory’s deadly predicament may have been rocky, but it was worth the ride for the destination. Suspense is built wonderfully over whether or not she’ll saw her leg off. If and when she does, there’s still the issue of where she’s going to go for help. The film relies on claustrophobia for its thrills, and Iain Softley’s tight direction reinforces that.

Then there’s the looming Christian, who comes and goes to taunt Mallory. While this could come across as a cheap tactic, it’s written in a way that’s cleverly suspenseful. Kimberly Lofstrom Johnson & Lee Patterson write Christian as unhinged, making sure his unpredictability is always in question. We know the only reason he doesn’t just kill Mallory is because of his affinity for torment, yet we also know that he can snap at any moment. We question how long until he grows tired of playing with Mallory and just offs her.

The film is incredibly well-paced! Softley rightfully slows things down in the middle to highlight Mallory’s plodding agony. He knows just when to speed things up, with a finale that is slightly over-the-top yet satisfying. The only snag he runs into is a scene in which Christian creepily asks Mallory about her first sexual experience. It’s meant to be unsettling, showcasing Christian’s uncomfortable proclivities and Mallory’s willingness to conform to the situation in order to survive, yet it comes off as too corny. It probably read better than it played out on screen.

“Curve” is a taut little thriller! A bumpy one at times, but never without intrigue. A smart script and compact direction guides the suspense suitably.

MVT: Johnson & Lee’s script. While Softley’s direction is strong, he wouldn’t have had a good grip without a smart script to back him up.

Make or Break: The scene in which Christian abandons the entrapped Mallory. It sets the mood and perfectly captures Christian’s lunacy and Mallory’s plight.

Final Score: 7.75/10