For me, 1990’s incredible SciFi/Comedy Tremors remains one of the benchmarks of creatures emerging from beneath the ground to terrorize local residents.
 
Naturally, some of the magic is owed to a fabulous ensemble (Kevin Bacon, Fred Ward, Michael Gross, Finn Carter, Reba McEntire, etc.) as well as it is a winning script from S.S. Wilson, Brent Maddock, and director Ron Underwood.  But the big win – as should be the case in any Horror feature – is that the effects team crafted a veritable screen monster capable of delivering the level of screen menace required to spin the yarn.  Yes, it was a practical physical monstrosity – this was the days before CGI – so audiences were both gifted with its visual pursuits as well as imaging just what it could be doing as it lurked beneath the ground.
 
Indeed, viewers were obviously swept up with the tale of these subterranean ‘grabbers,’ and a franchise was born.  To date, it’s produced an incredible handful of direct-to-DVD sequels as well as a short-lived television series.  It would seem that life in the dirt ain’t so bad after all, and who knows when we’ll see yet one more installment in that saga that seems one without end.
 
Well, in 2022, another contender has risen up in an attempt to steal the dirty crown from Tremors: They Crawl Beneath features a markedly smaller (but no less hungry) beast – one apparently evolving from worms – and it’s set its sights on unearthing gold in home video receipts.  Is it up to the task?
 
Let’s dig in …
 
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters.  If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for my final assessment.  If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
 
From the product packaging:
“After an earthquake leaves Danny trapped and alone, his claustrophobic nightmare only gets worse when something truly horrifying emerges from the fissures in the ground, forcing him to engage in a brutal fight for his life – and his sanity.”

​Monster movies – even when they’re poorly made – still manage to eek out an audience, and that’s largely because audiences have always appreciated the vicarious aspect of them.  None of us wish to be chased down by a man-eating anything, but we’ll happily watch it devour someone else.  If that isn’t the testament to a depraved civilization, then I don’t know what is!  Still, it’s precisely why I’ve always had a fondness for monster movies.
 
Despite some obvious weaknesses of a small budget, They Crawl Beneath both presents and sticks to its efficiency: it’s essentially one of those ‘locked room’ premises wherein our narrator – rookie cop-with-a-heart-of-gold Danny (Joseph Almani) – finds himself both trapped in his uncle’s garage and hunted by a series of predators emerging from the hole in the ground opened up by the same earthquake that locked him inside.  It’s a race against time for survival – both physically and mentally – as he must somehow overcome the fallen car that’s trapped him on the floor as well as face the hallucinations resulting from the creature’s venom (he’s been bitten) racing through his veins.
 
How’s your day going?
 
Sometimes the greatest strength of any effort is that it knows what it wants and sticks true to achieving that goal.  In that regard, Dale Fabrigar capably directs Tricia Aurand’s script, and neither were all that worried about developing these peoples, places, and things any greater than what was needed in this time and place.  In fact, you could probably watch Beneath with a checklist and tick off every development as it goes; that’s how desperately all involved cling to familiarity here.  Where they could’ve taken a serious narrative left turn – Danny’s increasing hallucinations causing him to question both his predicament as well as his family’s “secrets” – Fabrigar and all stick faithfully to the plan.  Me?  I think the diversions questioning one’s sanity might’ve made for a more compelling story.
 
Because I grew up when I did (the 1970’s), I have a lasting fondness for practical effects, and Beneath’s overgrown wormlike creatures are a delight.  While their bodies could’ve used a bit more polish, their gaping teeth-filled maws – what matter most – are the stuff of nightmares.  Fangs.  Bug spit.  Screeches.  The whole nine yards.  If they weren’t practical, they sure looked the part, and the time up in the limelight should be given the respect they’ve earned … or else they’ll bite it off anyway because that’s what screen monsters do.  (Hat tip: there’s even the hint of a follow-up if this little film finds an audience, though I’m not sure that’s in the cards.)
 
As for its cast of players?
 
Well …
​

Shouldering the bulk of the effort, Joseph Almani does a very capable job when the script calls for a bit more edge.  In some respects, it’s really not all that unusual for actors to hit the high notes – i.e. dealing with stress, making the most of the fear-inducing panic – and Almani does the same here.  When he’s in dire straits, you feel for him, and he works well in elevating the palpable tension of his circumstance.  Where I think he struggled (quite a bit) were with the quieter times.  There’s no real passion between him and his disgruntled wife – their scenes play out like bad melodrama – and the moments between him and “Uncle Bill” are far too formulaic male-bonding stereotypes to be anything more.  Better stewards can elevate inferior writing, but that doesn’t quite happen here.
 
In contrast, actress Karlee Eldridge seems almost gobsmackingly out of her element here, some of which could be owed to the fact that she’s a fairly stock creation.  (Haven’t we seen enough estranged wives of cops, Hollywood?  Can’t we try something different?  Anything different?  Anything at all?)  Her delivery is almost robotic, and there’s a nebulousness to what she does for a living that doesn’t quite support her being in here other than the fact that’s how it was written.  Her looks are entirely plastic – even after the apparent throws of bedroom passion, she’s Maybelline fresh – so the inherent weakness of “I’m just playing a character in a film” is obvious with each passing scene.  I guess it’s nice that she showed up and looked good, but Beneath gives her absolutely zero nuance to work with.  A wasted effort all around.
 
Screen veteran Michael Pare – honestly, a longtime favorite of mine – turns in a serviceable performance as the script’s “Uncle Bill.”  Sadly, he’s dismissed from the bulk of the action – sidelined mostly by two key plot points I’ll not divulge for fear of spoiling it – and that’s a miss.  When you have a name talent like him in the cast, I’d hope you’d put them to good use, even if it meant a rewrite to beef up his presence; and Pare – while convincing – gives a look that could’ve easily been filled by someone without his pedigree.
 
They Crawl Beneath (2022) (aka It Crawls Beneath) was produced by Suzanne DeLaurentiis Productions.  DVD distribution (for this particular release) is being coordinated by the reliable Well Go USA.  As for the technical specifications?  While I’m no trained video expert, I thought much of the sights and sounds featured were pretty solid, though I’ll admit that a few sequences photographed in the dark could’ve used a bit more light.  Also, the few CGI effects featured in the film are quite inferior, one laughably so.  (I know, I know: it happens in the world of small budgets.)  As for the special features?  Meh.  Outside of the theatrical trailer, there’s nothing to look at … and that’s always a disappointment so far as this critic is concerned.
 
Mildly Recommended.
 
It isn’t that They Crawl Beneath (2022) is a bad film.  It’s just too routine.  Too safe.  Too reserved.  It’s an entirely predictable affair that adheres faithfully closely to the safest possible narrative choices – even when trying to ramp up the claustrophobia or the whole affair – more comfortable in preserving the middle ground instead of truly doing anything new, different, or innovative.  Had its script or actors been pushed into fertile territory, then who knows?  It could’ve been something special, but – as is – it’s a tale that’s older than dirt.  Still, I do love practical effects, so kudos to the O.G. presentation of things that go bump in the night.
 
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Well Go USA provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of They Crawl Beneath (2022) by request for the expressed purposes of completing this review; and their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.

​-- EZ

One of my chief complaints with the undying onslaught of zombie movies – as well as undead-flavored TV shows – is that no storyteller is legitimately doing anything decidedly different with the subgenre.
 
In this regard, I’m talking about the treatment of the actual zombie players, you see.  Instead of presenting the usual carbon copy of the lumbering walkers vs. the rabid animal variety, what are they actually doing with the dead?  Are we, the audience, going to spend yet another entry of running and hiding from them, or are these still living and breathing characters actually going to do anything with these sufferers?  Simply following the typical and preferred Hollywood formula of ‘zombies on a train’ or ‘zombies on a plane’ isn’t quite enough for this old soul.  Call me old-fashioned, if you will, but I do like to see something different every now and then.
 
For example, AMC’s recent The Walking Dead spin-off – Tales Of The Walking Dead – had what I felt was a single good entry in an otherwise tepid six-episode run: it’s fourth installment – titled “Amy / Dr. Everett” – spent some time with a scientist who was largely hell bent on treating these walkers like their own evolved species.  He tracked and recorded their activities.  He tried to make sense of their developing patterns.  He suggested – like other of Earth’s indigenous creatures – they might be developed migration patterns and social class structures.  Granted, Ahmadu Garba’s script never dealt all that deeply with the good doctor’s theorizing, but it was a somewhat refreshing change of pace for a franchise that’s largely left the dead for dead, treating them as little more than insects that needed extermination.  After so much time in the limelight, perhaps even zombies grow dreary.
 
Truth be told, “Amy / Dr. Everett” harkened me back to the days of old when the original dead enthusiast himself – writer/director George A. Romero – started toying with many of the same notions about zombiehood in his Day Of The Dead (1985).  Fans of the Romero library have in many cases kinda/sorta dismissed the film as one of the lesser entries in the auteur’s ongoing exploration of the afterlife; having streamed it recently on my DVR from an airing on the Turner Classic Movies channel, I’d beg to differ with its detractors.  While imperfect, it still tried to inject its dead with a bit of life, and that’s never a bad thing.
 
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters.  If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment.  If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
 
From the film’s IMDB.com citation:
“As the world is overrun by zombies, a small group of scientists and military personnel dwelling in an underground bunker in Florida must determine whether they should educate, eliminate or escape the undead horde.”
​

When faced with the end of the world as we know it, storytellers essentially position their characters in one of three modes.  Either they’re on the run from the circumstances of our collective doom and gloom; or they’re focused on securing or hiding out at all costs from whatever brought about our demise; or (lastly) they’re best positioned to finally fight back, often times against all odds, in some attempt to set things right for themselves or future generations.  Outside of these three prospective approaches, there’s very little wiggle room.  When fight or flight have proven unprofitable, it’s time to rebuild.  What that future may be might remain unclear, but either humanity is a wrap or we’ve starting over fresh.
 
I think, minimally, that’s precisely where Romero’s Day Of The Dead positions mankind best: in its closing scenes, our three surviving principal players are shown soaking up the sun on an expansive beach.  As a group, they’ve opted to pack up their troubles and leave it all behind.  The race of men has proven itself unreliable on the mainland, so they’re leaving them alone and opting to live out the remainder of their days in isolation.  It isn’t exactly surrender, but it also isn’t quite beginning again anew.  It’s more of a draw: a narrative ceasefire in the history of our planet.  In the meantime, they’ll eat all the fish they can, get some great tans, and not worry so much about working on their cardio.
 
That being the case, I don’t feel the need to critique so much the human players of Day Of The Dead, other than an obligatory remark or two about the onscreen talent.
 
Actress Lori Cardille makes for a capable lead here: her portrayal of Sarah – the sometimes scientist, sometimes action hero – never quite rises to the level of fame granted other fictional heroines of her era (i.e. The Terminator’s Sarah Connor or Aliens’ Ellen Ripley).  She’s certainly given a scene or two to demonstrate the toughness of her moral resolve, but Romero’s script never quite gives her any standout performance showing she can go toe-to-toe with the soldiers or the lumbering dead, making her a bit too incapable of defending herself physically when the chips are down.  Who knows?  Romero is the product of a different generation; although he stops short of making her a full-blown damsel in distress, I’ll agree with anyone who claims she could’ve used a bit more moxie here and there.
 
Actor Richard Liberty fills in the shoes of Dead’s resident mad scientist.  Dr. Logan is of the chatty variety of masterminds, using what some might dub as snobbish, flowery speech not necessarily meant to insult his intellectual inferiors so much as it is to reinforce his mastery of science.  Willing to even talk his zombies to death, Logan waxes on whenever given the chance, and Liberty fills out narrative space nicely when the script might otherwise experience a lull in the action.  Thankfully, the actor never quite wallows in his Frankenstein-level conceit, always appearing authentically fascinated with even the smallest discovery.  Again, I can understand why – as a character – he might wear thin with some in the audience; I’m simply saying I found him effective though perhaps a bit overused in the film’s 100-minute run time.
 
Lastly, Joseph Pilato gets good screen mileage out of Romero’s most stock character.  As representing the evil of both authority and government, his Captain Rhodes grows increasingly distressed with both the circumstances of his assignment and the level of respect (or lack thereof) he gets from the scientists.  Though his character arc is probably even predicted by the resident zombies, it’s still easy to see Pilato could chew the scenery with the best of them, barking orders at those under his command all while losing just enough grip on control to be a greater threat than he ever was safeguard.  Yes, yes, and yes: we know he’s destined to be zombie meat before the credits roll … but the actor capably earned his place on the table instead of ‘at’ it.
 
Perhaps it’s the significant absence of zombie menace throughout Day Of The Dead that both irked and continues to irk fandom today, but I’d argue its Frankenstein story might’ve been one of its undiagnosed strengths.
​

Being the third film in any trilogy – especially one centered on the end of civilization – usually means that all elements will be tied up in a bow; and those expecting such a finale probably should get schooled in more zombie films.  (Many of them – even the very best of them – end on sour notes.  Sometimes, truth hurts.  Sometimes, it bites.)  So instead of drawing out that suspense, Romera opted to shine a bit of light on zombiehood: Logan has discovered that there’s still some level of consciousness at work in the corners of the undead’s brain, and he’s managed to bring a walker named ‘Bub’ back to a measure of sanity.
 
In the lab, Bub has shown small signs of recognition.  Though he’s little more than a lab rat responding to stimuli, he’s still demonstrated some hidden understanding of telephones, razors, and books.  He’s even somehow managed to calm the need for human flesh at least accepting it at the point of reward for good deeds, and it’s these meager accomplishments that fuel both Logan’s work and inevitable demise: like any closeted madman, he’s bound to resort to some very dark deeds in order to keep moving forward.  Again, where this takes this Day might be a bit predictable, but I thought it handled quite nicely by all involved.
 
In fact, I’d be remiss if I failed to mention that actor Sherman Howard gives a pretty interesting performance as Bub.  Never did I sense when looking into his eyes that he wasn’t still a card-carrying member of the flesh-eating clan, but he still manages to create a measure of curiosity in his work.  You’re never quite sure – when Bub’s reaching for an object – is he going to grasp it or is he instead going to finally turn on Dr. Logan and chomp on the man’s extended finger.  It never looked like he would … but would he?  It’s that delicious ambiguity (a curious phrase, considered he’s a zombie) that brought something special to this third act … and it’s something I’ve rarely seen matched since.
 
Granted, some may dismiss what I find refreshing as small potatoes, especially given fandom’s demand that Horror films shouldn’t be so (damn) cerebral.  Still, I disagree.  I’ve always found the exploration of ideas much more inviting – much more captivating – and I find myself going back time-and-time-again to flicks that make me think about an idea because I’m drawn into the experience.  Those who prefer shock frights and jump scares are bound to dismiss Day Of The Dead as a lesser chapter, but what can I say?  I guess I like more to chew on that just blood and brains.
 
Day Of The Dead (1985) was produced by United Film Distribution Company and Laurel Entertainment Inc.
 
Highly recommended.
 
Franchise entries are, perhaps, one of the hardest sells in all of filmdom.  Fans of the original are expected for the antes to be upped while newcomers to the property might wonder what all of the fuss is about.  Day Of The Dead tries to balance those liabilities by mining the middleground as much as it can; and the end result appears to have somewhat disenfranchised both sides of the potential audience.  So sue me for enjoying its ‘Dr. Frankenstein’ angle a bit more than most, but I found it interesting and original in just the right balance.  If anything, I’d argue it could’ve used a bit less predictability in a few key places … but, then again, those brains weren’t going to eat themselves.

​-- EZ

Ok, ok, ok.  Take it easy, folks.

This will not be a full review of any individual episode of Walt Disney's great 'Star Wars' experiment Andor.  I understand that everyone is clamoring to know what the scuttlebutt is on the show.  While I've watched the first three episodes and have formulated a few thoughts on them (that I'll share in just a moment) I'm not entirely certain I want to review them independently.  Taken as a whole, the three installments kinda/sorta blend together into a mini-movie within the greater galaxy far, far away; and I'm just not convinced that there's much value in breaking them apart for dissection and discussion.  But because I keep getting asked, I thought I'd pony up a few random thoughts on the show.

First off, I'll say that I believe Disney+ plus did the right thing in releasing these three episodes together because -- as I said -- they really flow like they're one longer story.  Separately, I honestly found them a bit clunky in areas that probably could've been cleaned up with a tighter edit, but it's kinda/sorta clear they're not so much trying to draw in the same kid-centric audience that The Mandalorian and The Book Of Boba Fett have drawn.  Yes, it's a more mature storyline, and there are some among us who'd say "more mature" is a polite way of saying "slower."

Second, if I had been subject to viewing these three episodes individually instead of the way they were released (as a unit), then I'm not so sure I'd even hang on with the show.  Episodes One and Two are exceedingly underwhelming for a lot of reasons, most of which ties to the fact that I just don't find Diego Luna's character all that interesting on his own.  Rogue One -- his big screen introduction to the Star Wars universe -- had (simply) a kick-ass ensemble, of which he was the least interesting character in my humble opinion.  Staking out his own territory with this show is a curious choice, one that may or may not pay off the way the Mouse House intended.

Third, yes, yes, yes.  This really isn't targeted at children any longer ... which is an odd switch because -- if I remember correctly -- wasn't I told over and over again that the reason I didn't like The Force Awakens, The Last Jedi, and The Rise Of Skywalker was because I'm old and "Star Wars is meant for kids"?  It seems to me I heard that on more than a single occasion, and it may very well have even come from JJ Abrams and Kathleen Kennedy at some point.  Now here we are developing a politically-charged series for adults in the same universe, so what are they gonna say when adults don't like it this time?

Fourth: taking three episodes to, authentically, develop a story is a stretch for a series but not so much for an engaging movie.  Andor is going to have to dramatically tighten up the reins and show audiences a direction worth going in pretty quickly.  Unlike kids, adults have a tendency to turn it off or (gasp!) change the channel if something isn't moving along all that quickly; so crafting something meant to corner the market on what any advertiser will tell you isn't a worthwhile demographic is not a great business model.  More likely, Kennedy and her minions are hoping for awards with Andor, so we'll have to see if they win any.

Lastly: does Andor's backstory really have to be all that complex?  Go back and look at the original Star Wars movie, and you might get the grasp of how excellent and concise character introductions can be accomplished visually and textually in short snippets, one building upon the next.  In this regard, Andor feels more like a personality info-dump at times -- here's who he knew early in his career, here's what he experienced early in his career, here's his personal motivation at this point in his life ...  That's an awful lot to digest, and -- think what you will -- I'm not all that convinced adults are looking for this many layers in a Star Wars property.

If you want to do Battlestar Galactica yet again, then why not just go off and do that?

Of course, I'm not saying that's the trajectory Andor is on, but I'm also not digging its desire to give me a seven-course meal when I'm just looking for fries and a burger.  Episode Three -- the best so far -- damn near could've been retooled to work almost entirely on its own (sans the first two), and I might've had more fun with it.  Still, it's early -- and this is not a full review -- so I'll keep my fingers crossed that it's finally going somewhere with the next chapter.

​-- EZ

Well, well, well …
 
Just about the time that audiences were finally getting used to seeing the faces of Milly Alcock and Emily Carey as Princess Rhaenyra Targaryn and Queen Alicent Hightower respectively, HBO’s House Of The Dragon showrunners have decided to leap ever further ahead in time, a move they felt (creatively) necessitated recasting both roles with two more age-appropriate actresses.
 
What a tangled web they’ve woven!
 
In one way, it’s almost as if the creative movers and shakers behind-the-scenes of the Dragon drama are less interested in having their prequel series make any sense.  Instead, they’ve flung audiences about hither and thither in their somewhat reckless quest to find a story to tell in Westeros; and it’s thus far been a journey without so much as a villain – which, honestly, every good program needs at some point – or any relatable character arcs.  Yes, they’ve given us some interesting creations – some with more flexible morality than we’ve seen this side of a David Mamet production – but I can’t help but underscore that this is a show still seeking a central unifying story … and none seems to be appearing on the CGI-enhanced horizons.
 
In fact, “The Princess And The Queen” pretty much continued their delight in mashing together a series of loosely-related scenes into a single hour of TV broadcast, one that opened with a birth quite possibly as difficult to experience as has been this incarnation of the Game Of Thrones’ franchise.  Before you know it, we learn that ten years and multiple births have passed; the heir to the throne is still her usual contemptible self; the queen has grown into a bit of a shrew; and somehow – defying all of the Biblical odds – King Viserys Targaryen is still alive!  He’s missing an arm.  Still got that nasty cough.  He’s lost the respect of his brother, the love of his wife, the adulation of his daughter, and much of his hair.  Think what you will about the stewards of Westeros, but it only took Ned Stark losing his head to know where he wasn’t wanted.
 
Along with the introduction of some new faces, the challenges of ruling from the Iron Throne continue to be much of what we’ve seen in the first five episodes: minor fiefdoms continue to plague the Seven Kingdoms with their lesser alliances, and somehow Viserys has managed to do absolutely nothing about them.  If there’s been a king who’s appeared less qualified in any program, then I’ve yet to encounter him.  It’s almost as if he’d rather do nothing, have sex with a woman young enough to be his granddaughter, and cough a lot.  That amounts to the sum total of his leadership philosophy as ascribed by George RR Martin.
​

On another front, Daemon Targaryen has found marital bliss – or, at least, six and children – in his time away from the big city.  Apparently, he’s taken to touring the hinterlands like an aging rockstar in search of material for his next album, one that’ll likely never get made.  In lieu of legitimately setting down stakes and raising a family, he’s using his fame, fortune, and reputation to sponge off the little people; and his wife has begun growing weary of his celebrity trappings.  Because births, kings, and weddings never quite go as planned in the universe, the Lady Laena Velaryon’s impending labor goes horribly, horribly wrong … and we’ve met and left another character well before we got to know them.
 
Still, she cooked up quite well under dragon’s fire.
 
While I don’t want to get my hopes up with House Of The Dragon – a domicile one would think would have its affairs well in order by over midway through its inaugural season – there was the suggestion of yet one more clandestine and nefarious force at work within the Seven Kingdoms: one Larys Strong has positioned himself as a private confidant to Queen Hightower, one who is apparently willing to sacrifice his own family if it gets him a chance at bat.  It’s all handled a bit clumsily – honestly, I wasn’t even sure what was happening when it went down, but it appears Larys strongly “believes” the series of unfortunate events he set in motion were Lady Alicent’s deepest desires … and I’m hoping we’ll get some resolution on that front in the next episode.
 
For clarity’s sake, I don’t wish to imply that I’m not enjoyed some elements of Dragon.
 
Like anything in the HBO pantheon of programming, it’s well-produced, well-acted, and – maybe even in some ways – well intentioned.  My issues with it are the delivery: it’s seemingly going nowhere, almost like an ouroboros – that snake rather famously feasting on its own tail.  These scripts are mired in attempts to reinforce over and over again the high treachery surrounding this family, even well after we’ve come to understand that’s all there is.  While some characters have had a few nice moments and their underlying motivations are quite clear, it’s almost as if the screenwriters feel the need to emphasis them over and over again, killing the pace of even what good scenes there are.  About the time the viewers suspect the journey is nothing more than circular, they throw in “an all-new enemy” to keep them distracted with the hope they’ll simply keep tuning in.
 
Eventually, that magic will wear out, folks.
 
As “The Princess And The Queen” shows us in its most touching moment, even dragons get old.

​-- EZ

I hate to say it, but I suspect many of us are thinking it: “Won’t you just die already?”
 
I know, I know, I know.  Those sentiments may be harsh, and yet writing and performances have been suggesting that King Viserys Targaryen (played by Paddy Considine) isn’t long for this world.  Since the show’s launch, he’s grown grayer and grayer, sicker and sicker, and less and less plausible as a believable patriarch to the Seven Kingdoms with each passing hour.  At this juncture, isn’t it just masochism on the part of these storytellers to keep him around?  Or is it sadism?  I sometimes confuse the two.  I hope that never happens at the wrong moment.
 
In any event …
 
King Viserys spent a wealth of time coughing, puking, and spitting blood – looking regal all the time – throughout much of the darkly-tinged “We Light The Way,” the fifth installment to the underwhelming first season of House Of The Dragon.  And, yes, I say “underwhelming” mostly because that’s how I’ve found it … a bit of a mess as the narrative keeps jerking forward a year (if not more) at a time with each passing episode.  Speaking of mess, is it just me or has the CGI grown increasingly less convincing as well?
 
Occasionally, it’s hard not to nitpick a scene here and there, especially where special effects are included.  Seemingly, HBO spared no expense when it came to elevating the general look of Game Of Thrones – this show’s inspiration and predecessor – but House is looking less and less like a narrative prequel and more and more like a novice’s knock-off.  Perhaps for me it’s just that these events seem to be only meandering from point to point with no clear progression, or perhaps it’s owed to the fact that the conflict seems tied only to one family – one kingdom – but it’s all a bit too nebulous at this point.
 
Now – and again, folks, you know that it isn’t in my nature to hate any program – I think it’s fair to suggest that a lot of this can be chalked up to ‘first season’ jitters.  House offers a vastly smaller cast than did Thrones.  The advantage here is that we, as an audience, have been able to spend a bit more time getting to know each of them; but it’s those returns I’m finding a bit questionable.  Matt Smith – an actor I thought superb in Doctor Who – feels a bit out of sync here – is he a villain or is he just misunderstood – and I’m hoping he evolves into suffering something greater than ‘throne envy,’ though I’m holding out little hope.
​

Also, relative newcomer Milly Alcock seems like a robotic shrew stuck on duplicitous mode.  (Tip: I’m not faulting the actress here, as she can only use what she’s given.  Rather, this is a reflection on the writing.)  Yes, yes, and yes.  I get that she has designs on the principal seat of power, and I’m reasonably certain I understand why.  But her interactions with those around her prove that – like her uncle – she’s only been fleshed out as a scheming woman, and I guess I’m hoping there’s a bit more depth coming soon.
 
On the plus side, I have enjoyed most of what I’ve seen from young Emily Carey.  She’s been an inspiration, and her arc as a character has been both relatable and well-plotted out for any in the audience to follow.  She’s tried to be the dutiful daughter.  She’s tried to be the good queen.  Life and circumstances have conspired against her, so it’s perfectly plausible to see precisely how she’s arrived at this point in her journey.  Her anger has grown more and more palpable, and the actress has done great work in conveying this creation’s angst and growing desire to move against those she’s long supported.
 
Still …
 
“We Light The Way,” however, ended up playing out more like a reminder of the lessons we learned already from Thrones, namely that weddings and unions never quite go off the way they should in this universe.  Whereas they’re meant to be a union of souls destined to find peace and happiness, this universe as conceived by George RR Martin they’re the absolute antithesis of that.  They’re filled with violence, hints of violence, or the promise of violence.  Sometimes, there’s madness!  Sometimes, there’ rape.  In this world, marriage is coupled with as much bloodshed as they are social ritual (always an interesting visual combination), and someone’s definitely going to lose an eye over all of this.
 
(Someone did … and then some!)
 
So I guess the whole ‘more of the same’ could aptly be applied to House at this point.
 
I guess my hope with House Of The Dragon was that it would be both a journey through some familiar trails as well as the promise of something more.  Thrones always managed to look up from time-to-time, even when the scripts kept promising that ‘Winter was coming.’  At this point, it looks like HBO and these storytellers are really only fascinated with the darkness of human nature, as I see no players in the wings waiting to show up and give audiences hope for a better existence.  Jon Snow did that – even in the darkest times – but House offers slim pickings at best in that regard.

​-- EZ

​In most cases, dramas bore me.
 
I know, I know: that’s a pretty controversial statement for one who both dabbles in penning his own stories as well as makes it his day job to talk about both filmed and written stories.  Perhaps it’s more accurate for me to say that I find ‘too much of the same thing’ to be a bit tedious; and that’s why I’m always striving – both as a critic and as an author – to spin something in a different light.  There’s an inherent freshness to looking at the conventional unconventionally, and others far more insightful than I learned that lesson long ago.
 
In fact, I’ve long argued that’s why I do love foreign films so much.

​Having grown up in the United States, I learned fairly early that so very much of what gets produced here runs through the mill that is the American studio system.  Rather than foster creative potential and encourage it to find greater expression, studios tend to tamp it down, to force even square pegs into round holes, and – as a consequence – some truly original premises end up being smashed into something that resembles something else entirely.  This is why Die Hard (1988) begat ‘Die Hard On A Bus’ (aka 1994’s Speed) or ‘Die Hard On A Plane’ (aka 1997’s Air Force One).
 
It isn’t so much that we copy so much as it is that the movers and the shakers only think it terms of what both worked before and made buckets of money.
 
But foreign films – at least, the ones I’ve spent time exploring to some degree – have more often than not been a breath of fresh air.  I don’t doubt that they might suffer from their own worst derivative impulses, but my experiences with them have shown that these storytellers tend to have a greater track record of seeking out something a bit different, a bit more unique.  It could be a subject matter or it could be just a whole different milieu than that to which I’m accustomed.
 
It's why I’m always thrilled to introduce a picture like Tomu Uchida’s A Fugitive From The Past to readers.  It’s both familiar and unfamiliar to so much of what I’ve seen, crafted against the backdrop of history I’m completely unaware of.  I may leave it a bit uncertain as to its killer’s true motivation, but I’ll likely spend a lifetime pondering if I would’ve done the same if such circumstances befell me.

​(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters.  If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for my final assessment.  If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
 
From the product packaging:
“In 1947, a freak typhoon sends a passenger ferry running between Hokkaido and mainland Japan plunging to the ocean depths, with hundreds of lives lost.  During the chaos, three men are witnessed fleeing a burning pawnshop in the Hokkaido port town of Iwanai.  The police suspect theft and arson, and when Detective Yumisaka discovers the burned remains of a boat and the corpses of two men, he sets about tracking down the shadowy third figure …”
 
There’s a bit more, but if even that sounds a bit long let me assure you: A Fugitive From The Past is a three-hour crime epic that deserves your attention.
 
I know that many folks don’t like long films.  I also know that many aren’t fond of subtitled pictures.  While there are several exceptions I could point out that certainly show that both longer, subtitled flicks have been embraced, I’ll forego most of my arguments suggesting that this one may fall nicely into such good graces and leave it simply this way: if you like good characters in smartly constructed dramas, then this one is for you.
 
Naturally, this isn’t to say that Fugitive doesn’t feel a bit bloated in a few places.  Director Tomu Uchida pads a few sequences in here with takes that are probably longer than necessary.  In some cases, I think I got to the crux of what he was trying to accomplish in doing so; in a few others, I think the point was made and, yes, he could’ve moved on and along.  So much of his tale is about how these intersecting characters deal with developments, and – think what you may – occasionally such characterization cannot be organically substantiated quickly.  It’s both a procedural and a finely-tuned character study – fairly evenly divided between those two halves – and it necessarily stretches longer than most films. 
 
Still, the structure of the film’s central mystery alone is greatest trick.

Without spoiling all of it, Fugitive clings to both the conventional and unconventional in what ends up feeling to be a tug of war.  Crimes are committed – several of them – and, in a few cases, we’re shown competing accounts of them.  Granted, acts of violence can be linked to multiple causes; but Uchida’s visual trickery here ties back directly to a character’s point-of-view, so it’s meant to be more artistic than (perhaps) authentic.  Come the film’s conclusion, we may or may not have a clear picture of the feature’s central murders … but – in one respect – that’s okay.  We’re left to put those pieces together any way we choose as what matters at this point is the perpetrator’s insurmountable guilt; the motivating factor is pointless.
 
Like life, Fugitive shifts its main point-of-focus several times, so much so that it’s easy to question just who the story is and isn’t about.  The truth there is that it’s more about the depicted history: events are seen differently by the various characters, and the true drama here is both how they react to it as well as how they choose to live their respective lives as a consequence of being changed by it.  Each of us is never ‘one thing’ for life.  We bob and change through the waves thrown at us.  Uchida’s film does the same, proving that we’re equal parts effectors and effected by these movements … and a truer idea never existed.
 
That’s the thing about life: it’s never truly predictable … other than the whole we’re born, we die, and – in between – we pay taxes.  Like the ocean (that’s seen throughout so much of the picture and rarely is it truly serene), there are high tides and there are low ones.  There are turbulent waves and there are calm seas.  We never can quite tell what we’d do until we find ourselves in the thick of it to truly know who we are, just how far we’ll go to both keep a secret and maintain our status quo, and in many ways that’s really all there is at the heart of Fugitive – folks who make fateful, life-altering decisions ‘in the moment’ and then have to figure out how to live with the aftermath.  We’re always riding those waves … and some of us are better swimmers, sailors and – ahem – sinkers than others.
 
In this respect, Fugitive makes the most of three grand performances.  Rentarô Mikuni shines as the man hellbent on starting over but yet can’t quite shake the curse of his secret past, no matter how hard he tries.  Junzaburo Ban mystifies as the stalwart small-town police detective who can’t let the past go – the case that got away – so much so that it nearly destroys not only him but also his faithful, loving family.  And Sachiko Hidari excels as the simple-minded prostitute so overcome with gratitude to the man who changed her life that it very well may inevitably cost her her own.  Good drama makes the most of the collision of their varied trajectories, and Uchida’s film deliciously delivers the goods in heartbreaking fashion.
​

Lastly, I’d be a fool if I failed to relay the following: from what I’ve read and learned from the supplemental materials on the disc, this Fugitive has never (ever) been released for home video purchase outside of its native Japan – an incredible, incredible oversight that Arrow Video has now corrected.  It’s a flick that’s been dubbed by experts as, arguably, considered one of the country’s top ten – many put it inside the top five – and that alone makes it worth a viewing.  Feel free to disagree – regular readers here know that I’m not always in agreement with the film intelligentsia – but methinks this one – though a bit long – is worth a single viewing.  It’s a compelling drama populated with great characters, and it deserves to be discovered and studied.
 
A Fugitive From The Past (1965) was produced by Toei Company and Toei Tokyo.  DVD distribution (for this particular release) is being coordinated via the very reliable Arrow Video.  As for the technical specifications?  Though I’m no trained video expert, I thought the sights and sounds here were exceedingly well done: there are some sequences involving camera trickery that are meant to be part of the overall ‘experience,’ so don’t be alarmed.  As for the special features?  The disc comes with a wealth of interesting ‘professorial’ discussions that are billed as ‘scene specific commentaries,’ which is a bit inaccurate as each of these academics (for the most part) really discuss various theories involving the film as a whole (with an exception here and there).  There is also an introduction to the film by writer and curator Jasper Sharp that delves a bit more (than necessary, I felt) into director Uchida’s library of pictures.  Lastly, the disc boasts many of the usual extra – images, trailer, etc. – along with a collector’s booklet with associated essay.  A very nice collection … as all of us should come to expect with the name of Arrow attached to this.
 
Highly Recommended.
 
Make no mistake: A Fugitive From The Past is a mystery, but it’s one with perhaps one of the more unconventional constructions ever.  There’s no doubt who the guilty party is, but – come the ending – you’re left with one than a single ‘interpretation’ of just how some of the crimes were committed, leaving you to, perhaps, make up your own mind about just what went down when it did.  Otherwise, the viewer is left with a pretty interesting police procedural surrounding the intersection of these relatable characters with each twist and turn proving (yet again) that no good deed goes unpunished.
 
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Arrow Video provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of A Fugitive From The Past (1965) by request for the expressed purposes of completing this review; and their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.

​-- EZ

Yes, yes, and yes: I did see that Louise Fletcher's passing made the news over the weekend, folks, and thanks to everyone who dropped me a quick note to make sure I was in-the-loop.  Even a few of you regular readers remembered that I'd penned a piece about the actress' work in Star Trek: Deep Space Nine (right here), so that you for keeping me on my toes.  I wanted to try to get up an 'In Memoriam' post on Sunday, but the time simply got away from me.

In short, I think it goes without saying that few reach the level of acclaim that did Ms. Fletcher in her career.  To play a memorable role or two is certainly laudable, but her Nurse Ratched from 1975's One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest transcended the pictures of the day so much that it grew into its very own pop culture meme at a time when no one even knew what memes were (yet).  Folks who were around in the day can certainly attest to that singular legacy, and I think she's a talent that genuinely deserves to be discovered and re-discovered in the pantheon of screen actresses.

Brief sidebar: I once was keenly misunderstood for my take on Nurse Ratched by a group of film nuts when I said that Fletcher's work in that film had an undercurrrent of sexiness.  They thought I stated categorically that I thought Ratched was sexy, to which I had to explain further.  Nurses are a sexual stereotype of heterosexual males (sorry, can't speak for the other persuasion), an archetype that's produced 'sexy nurse costumes' to perpetuate the fantasy even further.  My point was -- much like the ladies of a certain era fell head-over-heels for Star Trek's Mr. Spock, thinking they could break through his sexless Vulcan exterior -- there were a contingent of males who concluded the same with Nurse Ratched.  It didn't have anything to do with sex deliberately; it was that undercurrent of sexiness associated to nurses that I was trying to elaborate on, and I was misunderstood.

But, yes, Ratched -- in Fletcher's delicate hands -- was a phenomenon; and I think in many ways those lingering memories of such an incredible performance elevated the woman's status when she stepped into the shoes of Kai Winn on Star Trek: Deep Space Nine.  For those who would claim otherwise, I'd tell you to ask your older Trek enthusiasts such as myself if the association went by unnoticed, and I trust you'll earn an earful.

​This immeasurably talented lady was no stranger to genre projects.  One of her earliest screen roles was a guest appearance aboard One Step Beyond (1959) ... and the opportunities only grow richer from that point forward.

In 1980, she headlined Mama Dracula, a rather obvious vampire comedy about bloodsuckers needing the blood of virgins to survive: since the Sexual Revolution, you can imagine those have been in short supply.

In 1981, she joined the cast of Strange Behavior for South Street Films.  The dark SciFi/Fantasy explored one scientist's efforts of turning one town's teenagers into vicious murderers.

In 1983, she enjoyed two meaty appearances in genre films, one a bit campy and one a bit cerebral: Michael Laughlin's Strange Invaders saw aliens taking over a small midwestern town while Douglas Trumbull's Brainstorm had a team of specialists tapping into the human mind's potential.

​And -- for what it's worth -- the list goes on and on.  While some of the roles may've been small, they were certainly awarded a level of depth by the lady's gift at characterization.  In fact, go back and watch any of her appearances aboard Deep Space Nine, and you can marvel at the way she almost effortlessly conveys both meaning and any number of possible subtexts to each and every scene she's in.  I've always thought it the mark of a greater player who can make you think about the motivation ... and Fletcher always made me think.

Thoughts and prayers are extended to the friends, family and fans of Louise Fletcher.  May she rest in eternal peace.

​-- EZ

NBC’s Quantum Leap first premiered on March 26, 1989.
 
Almost immediately, audiences fell in love with not only the character of Dr. Sam Beckett (played by Scott Bakula) – the scientist who curiously found himself a man lost in time with the mission of setting things right that once went wrong – but also his slightly eccentric sidekick Admiral Al Calavicci (Dean Stockwell) – the colleague who appeared holographically in the past usually with information required to both set the plot in motion as well as clarify what Sam’s task was in order to leap to his next adventure.  Imbuing what could’ve been two cerebral characters with an almost ‘Abbott and Costello’ sensibility, the program was first-and-foremost about human beings and the choices they make that propel both the good and bad trajectories of their individual and shared existences.  These were people who met people for the purposes of saving people, and Leap – unlike other shows – stayed true to its formula because it worked each and every time it was tried.
 
The SciFi/Fantasy show was the mastermind of veteran TV producer Donald P. Bellisario, who also credits work in such franchises as Battlestar Galactica, Tales Of The Gold Monkey, Magnum PI, Airwolf, and JAG on his impressive resume.  Under the man’s stewardship, Leap went on to garner an incredible six Primetime Emmy Awards wins as well as attention from such organizations as the Academy Of Science Fiction, Fantasy, And Horror Films; the American Society Of Cinematographers; the Directors Guild Of America; the Golden Globes; and the Writers Guild Of America.  It was that rarity of rarities – an intelligently-written televised adventures serial that was almost universally cherished by any and all who discovered it.
 
In its original run, Leap came to its conclusion with the airing of “Mirror Image” on May 5, 1993, loosely bringing the saga of Sam Beckett and Al Calavicci to its close with some controversy: as fate would have it, the episode gave our faithful leaper the chance to go back and correct Al’s first romance, thereby setting in motion a series of temporal changes to the present.  Depending upon one’s interpretation of these events, the Quantum Leap Project may or may not even exist in what would’ve been Sam’s present (think “audience time”), and viewers learned that the good doctor was apparently in control of his leaps all along.  The episode ended with the reveal that Sam, in fact, never returned home.
 
Any bit of research will tell you that the ending as aired was likely not as originally intended by Bellisario and his team.  There’s been a healthy bit of suggestion that the hour was retooled somewhat due to the fact that NBC was dragging its feet over giving the program what would’ve been a sixth season renewal, likely to have been its last.  Recent reportage online even goes so far as to clarify that the original premise for a sixth season would’ve seen a happily married Al Calavicci stepped into the Imaging Chamber to pursue Sam finally physically into the past with the mission of finally bringing him back home … but, alas, it wasn’t meant to be.  “Mirror Image” was changed to serve as a series finale.
​

Well, it would appear that some of those elements have resurfaced as NBC has dropped back into the world of Quantum Leap with a not so much an all-new incarnation as it is a continuation of the original project.  Under the same name – but with much new ownership as well as creative management – the Imaging Chamber is up and running once more.  “July 13th, 1985” premiered on the Peacock Network on September 19th, 2022 … and – dare I say – this makeover was downright tepid.
 
Seriously: how do you screw up something so fondly assembled as was the original?
 
Well, it would appear that – first – you cast as assortment of actors almost market-tested to appeal to the widest demographic possible while leaving out any possible straight while males or any remotely normal people.  (I’m guessing there’s an episode about one characters’ preferred pronouns in the offing, by the looks of things.)  Next, you ignore the fact that what propelled so much audience interest from the original was the lovable friendship and chemistry displayed between the two leads and, instead, insert a heart-tugging dynamic between two lost lovers.  Oh, will they get together again … or won’t they?  (Why should I really care this early in the broadcast?)  Lastly, you open the show with a caper that gives the lead the chance to show his ’smarts’ when what audiences tuned in for was his ‘heart.’
 
Sigh.
 
Good grief.
 
It goes without saying that I found “July 13th” an incredible disappoint.  Actor Raymond Lee as Dr. Ben Song – arguably filling the biggest shoes in the entire Leap franchise – is so horribly out of his element here I can’t begin to imagine what producers saw in his audition … except, well, maybe his ethnicity?  His deadpan, uninterested delivery even suggests that even he may have no idea why he’s in this role, so maybe he’s underplaying everything in hopes that it’ll catch his agent’s attention?  While I’ll go so far as to agree that he and actress Caitlin Bassett (her character’s name is Addison Augustine, one that practically reeks of a scriptwriter’s invention) shared a nice moment before her beau leapt without explanation into the past, it was just that – a nice moment – and far too much weight was put into establishing a relationship that needed a bit more time fleshing out.
 
But no …
 
Based on the set-up of the episode, it’s pretty clear that this creative crew is playing the long game with their incarnation of Quantum Leap: Dr. Song has a secret as to why he went into the Imaging Chamber in the first place, and now that his mind has been customarily scrambled with a launch backward into history the team in his future will have to piece together a mystery that’ll likely be strung out over several episodes (if not seasons).  Instead of giving audiences a traditional serial, it looks like this one is leaning more toward the telenovel; and even the premiere’s closing moment suggests we have more cast to meet in the future than we do in the past.
 
Fans have long held out hope that a new incarnation of Leap would finally both bring Sam home – at minimum – and perhaps fix those developments somewhat displaced in the original’s finale.
 
I’ll admit that I didn’t have as many quibbles with how it all came to an end – I thought it right poetic – but I realize as is almost always my case I’m in the minority.  “July 13th” does suggest that there may be some tie-ins to the Al Calavicci character’s offspring (actor Dean Stockwell recently passed, so he’ll not be involved in this show).  I’d also read online that NBC has allegedly asked for Scott Bakula to not appear in the show (the actor recently stated on Instagram he was not involved), so once again the powers that be aren’t interested in giving the faithful what they want.
 
Bad move, NBC.
 
But we’ll see what history has in store for your new Leap.

​-- EZ

Despite what some in the industry may tell you, there really is no tried-and-true formula for crafting a film that will inevitably enjoy ‘cult status.’
 
Certainly, there are some pictures whose graphic sensibilities alone might cause a film to require a bit more time to be appreciated, thus going on to celebrity as it ages gracefully.  Also, there are subjects that resonate both in their time as well as find lives of their own with subsequent generations of moviegoers.  Of course, there are even talents – both at the beginning and ends of their respective careers – whose contributions to memorable characters or quotable scenes that tend to take on new meanings with folks who might find them years if not a decade or two later.  All of these factors could very well play into one picture being elevated to cult status … or honestly?  It could be none of the above.
 
That’s why I’ve always encountered my own challenge in explaining precisely why I think it is a particular motion picture may’ve gone on to a great afterlife; and such is the case with 1976’s Massacre At Central High.  At best, it’s a curious oddity – not necessarily topical for its day, though some might suggest its exploration of violence in school is better suited for today.  As a film, it isn’t all that good nor all the bad.  It certainly doesn’t boast any impressive or subversive performances, nor any cavalry of oddball characters.  But maybe – just maybe – it’s the respectable workmanship coupled with the fact that something like this could happen Anywhere, USA that compels those who seek out both forgotten and bygones products to sample its wares.
 
Like it or not, we’ve got a cult film on our hands!  So let’s consider school is in session!
 
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters.  If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for my final assessment.  If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
​

From the film’s product packaging:
“When new student David arrives at Central High, he discovers that it is lorded over by a gang of bullies who rule the school through intimidation and violence.  David’s friend Mark encourages him to join this dominant clique, but instead David stands up for their victims, and the gang cripples him in retaliation.  Soon David begins taking steps to end their reign of terror permanently, setting in motion an explosive cycle of killing that may not end until no one is left to graduate!”
 
Writer/director Rene Daalder didn’t have much of a film pedigree when he was tasked by producer Harold Sobel to bring the silver screen nightmare to life.  Essentially, the superficial ideas at the heart of Massacre’s premise suggests that Sobel thought he was getting in the exploitation business: this cast of young and good-looking prospects would be put through their paces, and the script suggested that one-by-one they’d suffer some grisly endings once the school’s social structure went to hell in a handbasket … but therein lies the rub, as they say.  As conceived by Daalder, Massacre was clearly about more than just some customary bloodletting; and anyone involved should’ve seen from a mile away that this was going to explore more than just one lunatic’s growing bloodlust.
 
Indeed, Daalder’s script strongly suggests that this particular high school world lives in a vacuum.  Absolutely no time of any consequence is spent with any adult; while there may be a few seen here and there, those characters are little more than screen filler to give an air of authenticity to the captured proceedings.  What story there is remains an almost clinical exercise in securing authority: who has it, how can it be lost, and what happens in that vacuum when no one appears to be in charge.  Suffice it to say, this is a far cry from the usual teen-set high school melodramas – murders or not – and the director strived for something more to say about these journeys from adolescence to maturity.
 
David (as played by Derrel Maury) is a closet sociopath.  While we’re given no origin story for where his tendencies toward violence originated, it’s pretty clear that he’s been feeling his oats for quite some time now.  (There is a strong hint that he’s done this kind of thing before, as his pal Mark attests that he’s “helped him out” in the past.)  With each successive murder, we’re shown that he’s grown almost emotionless about his actions – in his eyes, they’re just a means to an end, and there’s nothing personal about it – but somehow he’s managed to keep it all together by running.
​

But with Massacre, David is introduced to something that stirs him to action: Mark and his gang of high school pals have been kinda/sorta terrorizing their classmates as just another part of their daily rituals.  They set the rules for the school parking lot: if you break them, then your car gets ‘marked’ or (worse) wrecked.  They call the shots in gym class, even if it means snapping towels or pulling a switchblade.  And if they return their library books late, they’re not going to pay any late fees.  You with me on this?  In educational terms, these are some real bad dudes.
 
While it’s not perfectly clear, I suspect these public displays of arrogance is what serves as the catalyst for David to become this secret ‘White Knight’ to the student body.  One by one, he carefully extracts a measure of lethal justice on these bullies; and, one by one, they go down, each a bit more painfully than the last.  Before you know it, Central High is free of oppression … but this is where Daalder’s script truly hits its stride.
 
In the absence of any totalitarianism, the oppressed now rise up and become the oppressors.  Each of these victims suddenly finds himself or herself wanting a piece of that power, and they’re willing to team-up and collaborate against their former friends in order to fill that hole in the pecking order created with David’s handiwork.  The former wallflowers, the pot crowd, the chubby loser, and the volunteer student librarian are all suddenly at odds with one another – instead of aligned against a common enemy – and, as one might guess, David’s none too happy with their newfound expression.  In fact, he’s about to turn the tables on them yet again, this time with an eye for eliminating anyone and everyone who gets in his way.
 
Unlike other films set in school, Massacre is unforgiving in its portrayal of the potential recklessness of these American youth.  Daalder creates a microcosm within our society, structures it with its own rules of conduct, and then shows the possible consequences of allowing a harmful status quo to propagate in ways unimagined.  It’s sometimes dark and sometimes chilling, but it never shirks away from the formula as prescribed.  Whether or not it’s an entirely accurate picture is unimportant as it’s these ideas that propel the narrative from the start to its closing scene.  On that front, it stays true to the school.
 
As to why the film has grown legs of its own?
 
As I suggested above, that’s a hard egg to crack.
 
While some might read my review and feel that Massacre revels in its own excesses, I don’t think that’s the case here.  The violence – while prevalent after the story’s set-up – never rises to the level of gratuitousness as is all-too-common in most exploitation features, especially ones featuring teens.  Sure, there’s a smattering of blood here and there – and there’s more than a single pair of breasts – but it’s all rendered with what I’d call an almost tasteful restraint.  Furthermore, there’s really no singular performance that stands out amongst the cast.  Though there are a few recognizable faces in there, they certainly don’t call attention to themselves.  Robert Carradine is so exceptional here as the ‘loner with a possible art fetish’ that it’s hard to believe he'd steal the show in Revenge Of The Nerds just a few years later; and Andrew Stevens makes for a great-looking bad boy in typical teenage fashion.
 
Still, I’m inclined to think that those who’ve both found and praised/promoted the picture have seen the value in its subversive message about high school culture.
​

As has been said, it is its own world.  Yes, your days in high school may one day be looked back on as ‘the best days of your life,’ but there’s also a darkness to living and learning amongst close quarters that’s occasionally compared to Hell itself.  There are cliques, jocks, bullies, prom queens, class clowns, and plastic people aplenty; and – for a time – they’re all wrapped up in their own measures of self-importance (and sometimes arrogance), but good intentions are missed.  It isn’t all good report cards and prom dances.  And there’s a true uncovering of social rituals that takes place in these years.  That and the hormones, the puberty, and the boys and girls blossoming in the way they do at that time …
 
Is it too much to suggest that maybe it drives you so mad you just wanna kill someone?
 
That’s precisely how massacres are started.
 
Massacre At Central High (1976) was produced by Evan.  DVD distribution (for this particular release) is being coordinated by the impressive Synapse Films.  As for the technical specifications?  Holy Moses!  Bear in mind that – while I’m not trained video expert – I thought that this High-definition 1090p remaster looks and sounds absolutely incredible.  Dare I say that independent films this old have never looked this good?!  Very nicely done.  As for the special features?  Besides the new mastering, the disk boasts some audio interviews with the cast and crew; an all-new ‘making of’ documentary titled Hell In The Hallways; theatrical trailers as well as TV and radio spots; and the usual stills gallery.  It’s a very good collection but I give my highest marks to the all-new documentary: the reflections are mostly fun, and their observations are definitely spirited, implying that a fun time was had to all.
 
Mildly Recommended.
 
At best, Massacre At Central High is at mid-1970’s oddity – a little film that could.  Somehow this curious little destructive version of Peyton Place has defied the odds, found an audience, and achieved cult status.  While some might suggest that it’s because the flick perfectly encapsulates the – snicker snicker – American high school experience (which is does not) – it’s success is likely owed to the fact that writer/director Daalder never lets any moss grow.  He keeps chucking event after event after event – with an idea after idea after idea – at a pretty relentless pace, never taking a breath to acknowledge the growing pile of bodies in the plot’s wake.  If he did – or if the audience did – little of this would make much narrative sense.
 
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Synapse Films provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of Massacre At Central High (1976) by request for the expressed purposes of completing this review; and their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.

​-- EZ

Circle jerk = a situation in which a group of people engage in self-indulgent or self-gratifying behavior, especially by enforcing or reinforcing each other’s views or attitudes.
 
A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away (snicker snicker) I attended a small private college in Anytown, USA.  In one of my several classes talking about film, a professor (who shall be nameless) took the occasion one day to wax on eloquently about “mankind’s claim” that Stanley Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey was not only the greatest Science Fiction film ever made but very well was considered the best film ever made.
 
Now, at this juncture in my cognitive development, I was a firm supporter of Citizen Kane’s rightful claim to that title.  Not one to keep silent, I spoke up, asking where it was written that 2001 was ever considered a greater accomplishment than Kane was … to which I got an earful.  Pushing back as politely as I could, I argued that I’d never heard of anyone making such an assessment, and – while I didn’t doubt the instructor had read or perhaps thought such a ranking possible – I wanted to know which experts felt that way so that I could go out and read their analysis.  Essentially what I was told was that 2001 was, clearly, the superior film because of its central message.
 
Get ready, folks.
 
I asked, “What is 2001’s central message?"
 
As you might guess, my professor laughed at me, and he did stop short of encouraging others to laugh.  (FYI: seriously, no one did.)  When he perhaps perceived he was a bit on an intellectual island at this point, he attempted to turn the class loose on me, instead asking them to tell me what they thought 2001’s central tenet was.  Fate can be cruel; and, alas, only a few had even seen the picture, but someone ventured a soft statement something like, “I think it’s about man’s place in the universe.”
 
To which I asked: “Which is what?  Go anywhere you want but don’t go to Europa?”
 
Again, my long-established standing on 2001: A Space Odyssey isn’t that it’s a bad film, as I’d be a fool to argue anything remotely close to that.  But when thinking about a story one has to begin from a point of shared understanding, the single greatest example of which is comprehending what the story is saying about its subject matter.  It shouldn’t just talk about an idea (or a series of ideas); it should definitively say something about it.  On some level, I think, every film must be relatable in that way.  Its message should be universal, otherwise its arguments appear like more time spent “in the weeds” than anything else.
 
This is where I’d argue that the Kubrick film heartily flirts with a wealth of great ideas – some big, some small – but never definitely hits the nail on anything particularly significant.  It’s a mental exercise meant to make its audience think about man, evolution, space, perhaps our existence, and maybe even our place in the universe; and, yes, maybe on some superficial level it might preach we should all exercise a bit more caution in what we do … but I’d still argue that its true meaning as intended by both Kubrick and co-scripter Arthur C. Clarke might be elusive and perhaps best left that way.  In the final estimation, it’s a film that can say practically anything you want it to say about its ideas, kinda/sorta leaving you – the audience – to cast the defining vote.
 
Any amount of reading will demonstrate that a great deal has been written about the film.  In fact, stop right now and do a Google search under the topic of ‘What does the film 2001’s ending mean?’, and you’ll get a flurry of results, many of which might explore any number of pet theories extrapolating the significance behind each and every frame of film Kubrick shot for the ground-breaking feature.  This is what I mean when I say that it can be about anything you want … and some would argue that’s the picture’s greatest strength.  While I won’t proclaim it a weakness, I will suggest that it’s led to more confusion than it should.
 
2001 came at the height of the counterculture movement in the U.S.  (I’m told this was a global phenomenon, but I still see it tied to America more than anywhere else.)  This was a period in history when “the greatest brains among us” were telling us that the long-established social norms were no longer good enough, that society needed to be upended and a new world order founded on – ahem – peace, love, and drugs should be established.  Well, how perfectly fitting that a film kinda/sorta loosely about overthrowing ‘the norms’ and ending with cinema’s longest drug trip sequence ever would be embraced by these revolutionary anarchists!
 
Supreme Caveat:
 
I said what I said; and, no, I’m not sorry.  No, I won’t take it back.  I don’t find 2001 accessible, and I see it more as an exercise for those who wish to undertake mental gymnastics than anything else.  And you know what?  There’s absolutely nothing wrong with that.  I realize my opinion is controversial, but that’s why I’ve created a little something-something called ‘Warp Core Breach’ – it’s meant to blow things up, especially the status quo.
 
Keep in mind that just because I perhaps don’t find 2001 the best Science Fiction thing since sliced Soylent Green shouldn’t even imply for one nanosecond that I don’t believe you (or anyone) should see it.  As I’ve tried to be perfectly clear, the bulk of my hang-ups with it is that the journey ultimately means nothing to me on a personally level; so my failure to connect is my business and mine alone.  What I’m talking about here is that a film experience requiring crib notes is not my idea of entertainment: that’s education … and there’s a time and a place for that in life, too.  I simply prefer it in the classroom.

​-- EZ