- Published on
In the past, we here at SciFiHistory.Net – meaning me – have received a bit of scorn from readers and content creators within the paranormal, supernatural, and UFO community.
In short, this has happened because I, as a critic, choose to review properties – even fact-based docudramas and straight documentaries – that explore themes consistent with those groups. As this remains my blog, I invest time, effort, and thought into those things that tickle my fancy, not necessarily yours. While I reserve the right to make my own mind up on the efficacy of such stories, I strongly believe these projects deserve to both be made and discussed at length. Still, the assessment of those complaints is that I do a disservice to abductees and/or eyewitnesses to such phenomenon by including my thoughts alongside such rather obvious works of fiction. But whenever I am asked, I always explain that it’s my policy – as a writer – to cover just about anything that interests me and the fans of Science Fiction, Fantasy, and Horror: as I’ve found that enthusiasts of such genre entertainment to be entirely accepting of the subject matter, I choose to include it in this space. In no way should such inclusions imply that I found them fabricated; I’ll always leave that up to the individual consumers.
After all, alien invasions couldn’t happen without flying saucers delivering their occupants to our planet. Eerie mansions couldn’t be haunted without ghosts and spirits infecting those spaces with their presences. Exorcisms wouldn’t be needed were there no demonic entities to seize mortal souls. As all of these elements tend to fall within the auspices of films, television shows, and books of SciFi, Fantasy, and Horror, I choose to shine a bit of light on them when I can. Such is my policy, and such it will so long as I’m calling the shots.
Today’s fascination?
1989’s Communion – a biographical exploration of contactee Whitley Strieber – has long been regarded as one of the benchmark theatrical experiences that delved into the alien abduction phenomenon. Directed by Philippe Mora and adapted for the screen (from his novel) by Strieber himself, the drama starred Christopher Walken, Lindsay Crouse, Frances Sternhagen, Andreas Katsulas, and Terri Hanauer in key roles. Originally released in 1989, the film mostly failed to inspire audiences, never even earning back its reported $5M production costs. I’ve read that even Strieber wasn’t all that enamored with the end result, a curious assessment since it’s been said that he produced the script and worked with Mora during the shoot.
(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 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 page citation:
“On December 26th Whitley Strieber has a strange nightmare. In the following days, plagued by painful headaches, his behavior becomes increasingly erratic. Later, under hypnosis, he realizes that his dream was not a dream at all.”
Having not read the original source novel, I can’t speak for how factually Communion might represent this dark moment from the life of Whitley Strieber.
In short, this has happened because I, as a critic, choose to review properties – even fact-based docudramas and straight documentaries – that explore themes consistent with those groups. As this remains my blog, I invest time, effort, and thought into those things that tickle my fancy, not necessarily yours. While I reserve the right to make my own mind up on the efficacy of such stories, I strongly believe these projects deserve to both be made and discussed at length. Still, the assessment of those complaints is that I do a disservice to abductees and/or eyewitnesses to such phenomenon by including my thoughts alongside such rather obvious works of fiction. But whenever I am asked, I always explain that it’s my policy – as a writer – to cover just about anything that interests me and the fans of Science Fiction, Fantasy, and Horror: as I’ve found that enthusiasts of such genre entertainment to be entirely accepting of the subject matter, I choose to include it in this space. In no way should such inclusions imply that I found them fabricated; I’ll always leave that up to the individual consumers.
After all, alien invasions couldn’t happen without flying saucers delivering their occupants to our planet. Eerie mansions couldn’t be haunted without ghosts and spirits infecting those spaces with their presences. Exorcisms wouldn’t be needed were there no demonic entities to seize mortal souls. As all of these elements tend to fall within the auspices of films, television shows, and books of SciFi, Fantasy, and Horror, I choose to shine a bit of light on them when I can. Such is my policy, and such it will so long as I’m calling the shots.
Today’s fascination?
1989’s Communion – a biographical exploration of contactee Whitley Strieber – has long been regarded as one of the benchmark theatrical experiences that delved into the alien abduction phenomenon. Directed by Philippe Mora and adapted for the screen (from his novel) by Strieber himself, the drama starred Christopher Walken, Lindsay Crouse, Frances Sternhagen, Andreas Katsulas, and Terri Hanauer in key roles. Originally released in 1989, the film mostly failed to inspire audiences, never even earning back its reported $5M production costs. I’ve read that even Strieber wasn’t all that enamored with the end result, a curious assessment since it’s been said that he produced the script and worked with Mora during the shoot.
(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 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 page citation:
“On December 26th Whitley Strieber has a strange nightmare. In the following days, plagued by painful headaches, his behavior becomes increasingly erratic. Later, under hypnosis, he realizes that his dream was not a dream at all.”
Having not read the original source novel, I can’t speak for how factually Communion might represent this dark moment from the life of Whitley Strieber.
However, I have read several other tomes that have gone into some great depths with the alien abduction phenomenon, one that has interested me for many decades. I say that as one who has no reason to discount any of the experiences in any way, and yet I’ve always wanted to know more about what these individuals have endured. I’m of the belief that something is happening to them; while it may not exactly be entirely what they perceive it to be in those moments and in the subsequent recollections, it must be something. Furthermore, I have questions about how and why so many unconnected contactees can have so many similarities to what may have happened miles if not years apart; to me, this underscores that there must be deep-rooted cultural links that tie different races together far more than it separates us. I find that thought alone somewhat comforting.
Even though Strieber may not be considered a household name – well, certainly not in mainstream homes – he’s emerged as a credible force within the UFO community, someone who has stayed at the forefront of discussions about aliens, first contact, disclosure, and just about anything else that might align with such interests. As an author, he continued to recount his experiences across multiple books as well as branching out and crafting fictional novels – largely Horrors, I believe – and even dabbled in motion pictures and television screenwriting. Also, I believe he still hosts a weekly podcast – Dreamland – via his own website, Unknown Country.
Viewing the film as an introduction to the man’s wider story, I’m not convinced that audiences would be all that interested in following along, much less digging deeper into what might be one of the paranormal’s best documented tales. Mora’s direction of Strieber’s account never really gives any answers as to why it all began except to suggest in conclusion that the author earned a successful career and maybe even a cottage industry out of it: his original book – Communion: A True Story – was published in 1987 to some acclaim, and it stayed on the nonfiction best seller list for an impressive six months.
The picture opens by recounting Strieber (played by Christopher Walken) was struggling to come to terms with a severe bout of writing’s block that kept him from achieving any meaningful success. In fact, his ups and downs were strongly suggested to put some occasional strain on his marriage to Anne (Lindsay Crouse) and even hindered him from being the perfect dad to son Andrew (Joel Carlson). Hoping to get away from it all at their cabin in rural New York, the trio along with family friends Alex (Andreas Kasulas) and Sarah (Terri Hanauer) escape the big city only to find their night interrupted by bright lights and – possibly – first contact. Distraught and no longer able to relax in the peace and quite of the countryside, they all head back home.
However, Strieber’s troubles persist. A return visit to their family retreat only seems to exacerbate the man’s inability to connect with his wife and child, so much so that Anne eventually insists he seek out a medical solution. When his personal physician can find no explanation for Strieber’s growing disaffection, he refers his patient to Dr. Janet Duffy (Frances Sternhagen), a psychologist who inadvertently taps into a somewhat dark and sinister secret wrapped up behind some hidden memories. It would seem that there’s far more to Whitley’s experiences than what first meets the eye, a diagnosis that’s seemingly confirmed when Anne, too, recounts under hypnosis what her subconscious has recorded.
Even though Strieber may not be considered a household name – well, certainly not in mainstream homes – he’s emerged as a credible force within the UFO community, someone who has stayed at the forefront of discussions about aliens, first contact, disclosure, and just about anything else that might align with such interests. As an author, he continued to recount his experiences across multiple books as well as branching out and crafting fictional novels – largely Horrors, I believe – and even dabbled in motion pictures and television screenwriting. Also, I believe he still hosts a weekly podcast – Dreamland – via his own website, Unknown Country.
Viewing the film as an introduction to the man’s wider story, I’m not convinced that audiences would be all that interested in following along, much less digging deeper into what might be one of the paranormal’s best documented tales. Mora’s direction of Strieber’s account never really gives any answers as to why it all began except to suggest in conclusion that the author earned a successful career and maybe even a cottage industry out of it: his original book – Communion: A True Story – was published in 1987 to some acclaim, and it stayed on the nonfiction best seller list for an impressive six months.
The picture opens by recounting Strieber (played by Christopher Walken) was struggling to come to terms with a severe bout of writing’s block that kept him from achieving any meaningful success. In fact, his ups and downs were strongly suggested to put some occasional strain on his marriage to Anne (Lindsay Crouse) and even hindered him from being the perfect dad to son Andrew (Joel Carlson). Hoping to get away from it all at their cabin in rural New York, the trio along with family friends Alex (Andreas Kasulas) and Sarah (Terri Hanauer) escape the big city only to find their night interrupted by bright lights and – possibly – first contact. Distraught and no longer able to relax in the peace and quite of the countryside, they all head back home.
However, Strieber’s troubles persist. A return visit to their family retreat only seems to exacerbate the man’s inability to connect with his wife and child, so much so that Anne eventually insists he seek out a medical solution. When his personal physician can find no explanation for Strieber’s growing disaffection, he refers his patient to Dr. Janet Duffy (Frances Sternhagen), a psychologist who inadvertently taps into a somewhat dark and sinister secret wrapped up behind some hidden memories. It would seem that there’s far more to Whitley’s experiences than what first meets the eye, a diagnosis that’s seemingly confirmed when Anne, too, recounts under hypnosis what her subconscious has recorded.
This being the late 1980’s, the visual trickery used to detail Strieber’s contact experiences is quite good. All of it was handled via practical effects and staging – CGI was really only coming into being, at this point – and the resulting sequences – while probably equally confusing at times to viewers as they were to the author – still hold up significantly decades later as I’m viewing them. There’s an ambiguity to all of it – the probing and the purported dialogue – that rarely points watchers in any substantive direction, leaving all of us to make up our minds about what is real and what might be misinterpreted. Granted, a few of the non-human entities – there’s more than a single species encountered here – have very little facial distinctiveness, but I think that helps amplify the indefinable core of what really happened that still surrounds the account.
Still, the lack of closure arguably keeps Communion from becoming anything greater than the sum of its limited parts, and that’s likely the reality for any contactee’s involvement. While Strieber and Mora might drop a hint here and there, audiences are never pushed in any specific direction – do these beings want peace, or are they pranksters merely screwing with one man’s existence – and the absence of a moral foundation truly leaves everything hanging in those last scenes. What does work effectively is Walken and Crouse’s portrayal of a husband-and-wife team who find themselves entirely in uncharted waters. Their commitment to one another – while obviously taxed to their emotional limits – does tie everything together here; but I suspect most will find fault (if not downright confusion) with Strieber in the last reel where he seemingly funs off happily with the notion that he’s finally found a subject worth writing about again.
Erm … was he not just anally probed?
Communion (1989) was produced by Allied Vision, Morgan Creek Entertainment, Pheasantry Films, and The Picture Property Company. A quick Google.com search indicates that the flick is widely available via digital streaming for those who like that sort of thing. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I found the provided sights-and-sounds to be mostly solid: a great deal of the sequences uses practical effects, and – despite a few minor quibbles here and there – I thought the multiple aliens were credibly captured. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? As I viewed this one via streaming, there were no special features under consideration.
Recommended.
Rather than provide answers, Communion (1989) tries to cover in dramatic bullet-point fashion the ordeal that put author and contactee Whitley Strieber on the map (as they say). While the picture is well made and boasts solid performances from Walken and Crouse, the script – much like all of us – never quite knows what to make of the central story. Without some narrative hints as to what could be the motivation behind these entities, the tale feels as if its groundless, and the scenes – while sometimes horrific and sometimes comic – could’ve used a bit more suggestion as to what we – as a species – are to make of such encounters if and when they’re taking place. Realizing we’re not alone is only the beginning, and someone involved really should’ve stepped up to even mildly intimate an agenda … even only if it were a single possibility.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that I’m beholden to no one for this review of Communion (1989) as I viewed the motion picture as part of my very own subscription to Amazon Prime Video.
-- EZ
Still, the lack of closure arguably keeps Communion from becoming anything greater than the sum of its limited parts, and that’s likely the reality for any contactee’s involvement. While Strieber and Mora might drop a hint here and there, audiences are never pushed in any specific direction – do these beings want peace, or are they pranksters merely screwing with one man’s existence – and the absence of a moral foundation truly leaves everything hanging in those last scenes. What does work effectively is Walken and Crouse’s portrayal of a husband-and-wife team who find themselves entirely in uncharted waters. Their commitment to one another – while obviously taxed to their emotional limits – does tie everything together here; but I suspect most will find fault (if not downright confusion) with Strieber in the last reel where he seemingly funs off happily with the notion that he’s finally found a subject worth writing about again.
Erm … was he not just anally probed?
Communion (1989) was produced by Allied Vision, Morgan Creek Entertainment, Pheasantry Films, and The Picture Property Company. A quick Google.com search indicates that the flick is widely available via digital streaming for those who like that sort of thing. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I found the provided sights-and-sounds to be mostly solid: a great deal of the sequences uses practical effects, and – despite a few minor quibbles here and there – I thought the multiple aliens were credibly captured. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? As I viewed this one via streaming, there were no special features under consideration.
Recommended.
Rather than provide answers, Communion (1989) tries to cover in dramatic bullet-point fashion the ordeal that put author and contactee Whitley Strieber on the map (as they say). While the picture is well made and boasts solid performances from Walken and Crouse, the script – much like all of us – never quite knows what to make of the central story. Without some narrative hints as to what could be the motivation behind these entities, the tale feels as if its groundless, and the scenes – while sometimes horrific and sometimes comic – could’ve used a bit more suggestion as to what we – as a species – are to make of such encounters if and when they’re taking place. Realizing we’re not alone is only the beginning, and someone involved really should’ve stepped up to even mildly intimate an agenda … even only if it were a single possibility.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that I’m beholden to no one for this review of Communion (1989) as I viewed the motion picture as part of my very own subscription to Amazon Prime Video.
-- EZ
- Published on
As I’ve always said, what connects me with a good Ghost Story are a few key elements.
First, I have to care about the players. It’s like in sport: you have a team you want to root for. Horror films are the same: you have to connect with the potential victims or else. For the purposes of this story (and this story alone), these people have to mean something to me. I should attach to them not necessarily to care about them, but yet I should minimally be invested in their survival.
Second, I have to care about the setting. Old houses have always been solid foundations upon which to erect damn near anything connected to the paranormal, so that should be reasonably easy pickings, as they say. Their design alone is often times half the fun. Yeah, it might be formulaic, but that doesn’t mean it won’t achieve the necessary results.
Lastly, I have to understand the mythology. This isn’t to say that I agree with it because, frankly, I rarely do. My point here is that if I can’t grasp clearly and cleanly how all of these pieces are intended to fit together, then the core adventure always risks leaving me on an island, stranded in the middle of this spooky ocean, not knowing what’s next. Characters can feel this way, but I – as the viewer – shouldn’t. Ever.
While these might sound like easy steps toward modest storytelling success, I suspect that writer/director Nicholas Bain would still support them. Again, this isn’t to say that his Voice Of Shadows (2023) reaches this respectably low bar, but the effort was obviously there. This independent chiller musters up some of the right stuff in a few spots, using an old but not-quite-gothic mansion as the centerpiece for an affordable look at spirits – both living and dead – in transition. Still, it’s a pretty far cry from what I’ve seen accomplished elsewhere with even less capital being invested, and the flick ends without effectively meeting, perhaps, two out of three of my above requirements.
As such, I was disappointed … but I still respect the effort.
(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 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 page citation:
“A young working-class woman stands to inherit an estate if she and her boyfriend abide by a set of bizarre stipulations.”
One needn’t go to great lengths to fashion a good Horror flick.
Granted, all productions need some hook – some creative device that entices the audience to pay closer attention – and this isn’t as easy as it sounds. What titillates you may not be what titillates me; and yet Horror – unlike other genres – truly operates economically by employing the leanest and meanest of structures to start the proverbial ball rolling. It has to, otherwise it risks failing right out of the opening frames.
On that level, Voice Of Shadows excels. Well … mostly.
We’re introduced to a slim cast of characters: Gabriel (played by Guillermo Blanco) has come to America in pursuit of a better life, bringing his sister Celeste (María José Vargas Agudelo) along for the ride. He’s found love in the arms of the fetching Emma (Corrinne Mica), a free spirit who stays close to her aging Aunt Milda (Jane Hammill), a somewhat bitter woman who harbors some bad opinions of the young man. But when Milda passes suddenly, all their lives are about to change as Emma stands to inherit her aunt’s old house on the condition that she lives there while Gabriel cannot.
First, I have to care about the players. It’s like in sport: you have a team you want to root for. Horror films are the same: you have to connect with the potential victims or else. For the purposes of this story (and this story alone), these people have to mean something to me. I should attach to them not necessarily to care about them, but yet I should minimally be invested in their survival.
Second, I have to care about the setting. Old houses have always been solid foundations upon which to erect damn near anything connected to the paranormal, so that should be reasonably easy pickings, as they say. Their design alone is often times half the fun. Yeah, it might be formulaic, but that doesn’t mean it won’t achieve the necessary results.
Lastly, I have to understand the mythology. This isn’t to say that I agree with it because, frankly, I rarely do. My point here is that if I can’t grasp clearly and cleanly how all of these pieces are intended to fit together, then the core adventure always risks leaving me on an island, stranded in the middle of this spooky ocean, not knowing what’s next. Characters can feel this way, but I – as the viewer – shouldn’t. Ever.
While these might sound like easy steps toward modest storytelling success, I suspect that writer/director Nicholas Bain would still support them. Again, this isn’t to say that his Voice Of Shadows (2023) reaches this respectably low bar, but the effort was obviously there. This independent chiller musters up some of the right stuff in a few spots, using an old but not-quite-gothic mansion as the centerpiece for an affordable look at spirits – both living and dead – in transition. Still, it’s a pretty far cry from what I’ve seen accomplished elsewhere with even less capital being invested, and the flick ends without effectively meeting, perhaps, two out of three of my above requirements.
As such, I was disappointed … but I still respect the effort.
(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 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 page citation:
“A young working-class woman stands to inherit an estate if she and her boyfriend abide by a set of bizarre stipulations.”
One needn’t go to great lengths to fashion a good Horror flick.
Granted, all productions need some hook – some creative device that entices the audience to pay closer attention – and this isn’t as easy as it sounds. What titillates you may not be what titillates me; and yet Horror – unlike other genres – truly operates economically by employing the leanest and meanest of structures to start the proverbial ball rolling. It has to, otherwise it risks failing right out of the opening frames.
On that level, Voice Of Shadows excels. Well … mostly.
We’re introduced to a slim cast of characters: Gabriel (played by Guillermo Blanco) has come to America in pursuit of a better life, bringing his sister Celeste (María José Vargas Agudelo) along for the ride. He’s found love in the arms of the fetching Emma (Corrinne Mica), a free spirit who stays close to her aging Aunt Milda (Jane Hammill), a somewhat bitter woman who harbors some bad opinions of the young man. But when Milda passes suddenly, all their lives are about to change as Emma stands to inherit her aunt’s old house on the condition that she lives there while Gabriel cannot.
While that is an interesting hook, indeed, my issues with it start to grow when there’s just not a significant enough explanation behind it for me to suspend all disbelief. Clearly, Milda showed behaviors of disliking the young man; and, yet, Bain’s script never quite nails a relevant enough reason for such life-altering disdain. Granted, we do come to learn that the old crone’s embrace of dark magic puts her at odds with Gabriel’s faith; but my problem with it is that the film never really invested much time or effort in showing Gabriel as a man of spiritual faith. He wears a cross. He blesses himself accordingly when entering a church or sanctuary. He even goes to confessional in a curious set-up that ultimately feels a bit disassociated from Voice’s wider story. However, that’s it … and I found it far too little.
Similarly, Celeste and Emma serve more like cardboard cut-outs who act a certain way more because that’s how they were written than how authentic women behave. Without greater substance or scenes to define their respective personalities, the two never quite shake that feeling of being characters in search of a story; thank God an evil presence inevitably shows up because otherwise they’d really have nothing else to do but sleep and thumb through Milda’s book of evil! A bit more dialogue or a bit more casual exploration of who they are and what they stood for might’ve alleviated a good portion of this blandness, but – as is – the duo remain paper thin.
Complicating matters a bit further, I never quite grasped what Milda’s end goal to all of this was.
In a general sense, there are enough suggestions in place to lead me to accept that the woman wanted to transcend death itself. The film’s best device – a rotary phone that magically seems to stay in contact with both the living and the deceased – implies that she’d already kinda/sorta achieved a level of transcendence as things were; so – ahem – did she just want a fresh young body with her coopting of Emma? The discussions of possession and the like strongly denote that a rebirth was sought, but there’s a last seen showing her spirit still kinda/sorta being embraced by an evil priest anyway – Father John (Michael Paul Levin) – which led me to conclude that she lives on even without a body … so what was all of the fuss really about?
Without being sufficiently drawn into this world with these specific players and understanding fully what the stakes were, I’m left pondering what it was all trying to say about life, the universe, and the thereafter. Bain’s visuals aren’t enough to answer these fundamentals, and a vastly better script with far more characterization would be required to make this thing anything more than just a casual 90-minute experience. Ghosts with little dimension are one thing, and living people with even less definition kill the mood whenever tried.
Voice Of Shadows (2023) was produced by Ark Entertainment and TheGseven. According to a quick Google.com search, the film is presently available for digital purchase via Amazon Prime and Apple TV+. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I found the provided sights-and-sounds to be pretty exceptional from start-to-finish: there are some mild Special Effects in the last reel that are a bit obvious, but they don’t distract from the overall experience. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? As I viewed this one via streaming, there were no special features under consideration.
Alas … only Mildly Recommended.
In fairness, Voice Of Shadows (2023) isn’t a bad film. In fact, writer/director Bain occasionally manages to create enough supernatural mystery to make some of the smaller moments work just fine. The problem I had with it is that – as a whole – it’s far too opaque in far too many ways – i.e. undefined (if not unnecessary) characters, insufficient character development, unexplained scenes, and inadequate tension – so I wind up not really caring about any of its protagonists. When I’m not swept up away with any attachment to them, then their respective plights just don’t matter; and this uncentered procedural feels a bit too ‘color by numbers’ as a consequence. Sure, it’s expertly made … but in the grand scheme of things I’m still left feeling as empty as was this big haunted house.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Ark Entertainment provided me with complimentary streaming access to Voice Of Shadows (2023) by request for the expressed purpose of completing this review. Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
Similarly, Celeste and Emma serve more like cardboard cut-outs who act a certain way more because that’s how they were written than how authentic women behave. Without greater substance or scenes to define their respective personalities, the two never quite shake that feeling of being characters in search of a story; thank God an evil presence inevitably shows up because otherwise they’d really have nothing else to do but sleep and thumb through Milda’s book of evil! A bit more dialogue or a bit more casual exploration of who they are and what they stood for might’ve alleviated a good portion of this blandness, but – as is – the duo remain paper thin.
Complicating matters a bit further, I never quite grasped what Milda’s end goal to all of this was.
In a general sense, there are enough suggestions in place to lead me to accept that the woman wanted to transcend death itself. The film’s best device – a rotary phone that magically seems to stay in contact with both the living and the deceased – implies that she’d already kinda/sorta achieved a level of transcendence as things were; so – ahem – did she just want a fresh young body with her coopting of Emma? The discussions of possession and the like strongly denote that a rebirth was sought, but there’s a last seen showing her spirit still kinda/sorta being embraced by an evil priest anyway – Father John (Michael Paul Levin) – which led me to conclude that she lives on even without a body … so what was all of the fuss really about?
Without being sufficiently drawn into this world with these specific players and understanding fully what the stakes were, I’m left pondering what it was all trying to say about life, the universe, and the thereafter. Bain’s visuals aren’t enough to answer these fundamentals, and a vastly better script with far more characterization would be required to make this thing anything more than just a casual 90-minute experience. Ghosts with little dimension are one thing, and living people with even less definition kill the mood whenever tried.
Voice Of Shadows (2023) was produced by Ark Entertainment and TheGseven. According to a quick Google.com search, the film is presently available for digital purchase via Amazon Prime and Apple TV+. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I found the provided sights-and-sounds to be pretty exceptional from start-to-finish: there are some mild Special Effects in the last reel that are a bit obvious, but they don’t distract from the overall experience. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? As I viewed this one via streaming, there were no special features under consideration.
Alas … only Mildly Recommended.
In fairness, Voice Of Shadows (2023) isn’t a bad film. In fact, writer/director Bain occasionally manages to create enough supernatural mystery to make some of the smaller moments work just fine. The problem I had with it is that – as a whole – it’s far too opaque in far too many ways – i.e. undefined (if not unnecessary) characters, insufficient character development, unexplained scenes, and inadequate tension – so I wind up not really caring about any of its protagonists. When I’m not swept up away with any attachment to them, then their respective plights just don’t matter; and this uncentered procedural feels a bit too ‘color by numbers’ as a consequence. Sure, it’s expertly made … but in the grand scheme of things I’m still left feeling as empty as was this big haunted house.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Ark Entertainment provided me with complimentary streaming access to Voice Of Shadows (2023) by request for the expressed purpose of completing this review. Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
- Published on
(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 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 page citation:
“Based on the hit interactive play (premiered in 2015). The first-ever wedding between a Human Bride and a Zombie Groom. The human guests need to learn how to behave. WWN reporters cover the wedding - while trying to get out alive.”
The beauty of the Great American Comedy is that – when it’s done right – everything is considered fair game. No topic is taboo, and the cast and crew can even collaboratively put together something that takes swipes at just about anything that comes to mind. Stories rarely end up being adapted verbatim to film, so some very good yarns experience a bit of reinvention as the talented actors and actresses get put through their pacing and maybe ad lib some stuff here and there worthy of addition. Granted, this probably doesn’t always happen, but I’ve often both heard and read that some of the best Comedy evolves from what we all call ‘happy accidents.’
Well … The Zombie Wedding – from what I’ve learned – began its life of delivering laughs as a stage play, one of those interactive-style shindigs wherein the live audience gets to take a loose yet active part of the proceedings. While they showed up for the exchange of nuptials between the bride and the groom – here embodied by Ashley Morgan (played by Deepti Menon) and the recently-departed-yet-now-zombified Zack Porter (Donald Chang) – the true ceremony is one fraught with a bit of madness and mayhem when the Walking Dead work up a bit of appetite while waiting for the festivities to begin. Naturally, chaos results, and the laughs are an expression of how out-of-sorts everything appears when those reanimated corpses try to maintain a modicum of good behavior in spite of their new state of existential being.
The greatest single difference between this Wedding and other zombie features is that here the Undead aren’t all those other productions have them cracked up to be. In fact, with the exception of any hankering for brains and flesh along with some skin discoloration, these dearly departed are still reasonably like you and me. They’re trying hard to control these new urges; and with the help of the U.S. government being on hand to supply newfangled brain substitutes as a diet a good many of them are adjusting just fine. Still, the claustrophobia of being wrapped up in a church and the painstaking delays of any reception is enough to drive the living to the edge of their wits, so you can imagine that these zombies aren’t exactly going to make the best night of Ashley’s life any easier.
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“Based on the hit interactive play (premiered in 2015). The first-ever wedding between a Human Bride and a Zombie Groom. The human guests need to learn how to behave. WWN reporters cover the wedding - while trying to get out alive.”
The beauty of the Great American Comedy is that – when it’s done right – everything is considered fair game. No topic is taboo, and the cast and crew can even collaboratively put together something that takes swipes at just about anything that comes to mind. Stories rarely end up being adapted verbatim to film, so some very good yarns experience a bit of reinvention as the talented actors and actresses get put through their pacing and maybe ad lib some stuff here and there worthy of addition. Granted, this probably doesn’t always happen, but I’ve often both heard and read that some of the best Comedy evolves from what we all call ‘happy accidents.’
Well … The Zombie Wedding – from what I’ve learned – began its life of delivering laughs as a stage play, one of those interactive-style shindigs wherein the live audience gets to take a loose yet active part of the proceedings. While they showed up for the exchange of nuptials between the bride and the groom – here embodied by Ashley Morgan (played by Deepti Menon) and the recently-departed-yet-now-zombified Zack Porter (Donald Chang) – the true ceremony is one fraught with a bit of madness and mayhem when the Walking Dead work up a bit of appetite while waiting for the festivities to begin. Naturally, chaos results, and the laughs are an expression of how out-of-sorts everything appears when those reanimated corpses try to maintain a modicum of good behavior in spite of their new state of existential being.
The greatest single difference between this Wedding and other zombie features is that here the Undead aren’t all those other productions have them cracked up to be. In fact, with the exception of any hankering for brains and flesh along with some skin discoloration, these dearly departed are still reasonably like you and me. They’re trying hard to control these new urges; and with the help of the U.S. government being on hand to supply newfangled brain substitutes as a diet a good many of them are adjusting just fine. Still, the claustrophobia of being wrapped up in a church and the painstaking delays of any reception is enough to drive the living to the edge of their wits, so you can imagine that these zombies aren’t exactly going to make the best night of Ashley’s life any easier.
Because this is Farce – and rather broadly applied, at that – Wedding bobs and weaves around a wealth of topics. Zach and his friends – all of them also crossed over – do their best to make both the ceremony and party into an affair to end all affairs. Ashley’s family struggles to put aside their – snicker snicker – somewhat bigoted notions of what a good husband for their daughter should be – namely: alive! – and it’s this coming together of differing value systems that makes for the bulk of the film’s best laughs. Nothing in here is what I’d christen ‘but-gusting’ humor, but the jokes are applied often and consistently enough that it works well enough to be accepted.
Wherein I struggled a bit with the script from Greg D’Alessandro is that it occasionally grows a bit too broad, straying liberally from the central idea of families in conflict over these crazy nuptials and, instead, just throws spaghetti at the wall to keep the parade going. For example, Reverend Harry Crump (Seth Gilliam) is not your humble man of God but gets portrayed as this ridiculously flamboyant urban hipster who only looks and acts like the worst Hollywood caricature of the black preacher. (Hell, some might even find the characterization outdated and/or offensive for all I know.) That along with some unnecessary side characters – Ashley’s boss and a few of her co-workers – add nothing but a few stock moments to the picture; and I think a shooting script could’ve been better with a bit more restraint.
I’m all for lunacy, mind you. But unnecessary lunacy? Well, that’s what I consider walking dead.
The Zombie Wedding (2023) was produced by Weekly World New Studios and Notorious Prods. A quick Google.com search indicates the film is available for digital rental or purchase via the streaming platforms of Fandango At Home, Prime Video, and Apple TV. As for the technical specifications? Though I’m no trained video expert, I found the provided sights-and-sounds to be exceptional: the flick never quite escapes looking like it was shot on HD video, and I think that kinda/sorta killed the effect for me here and there. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? As I viewed this one via streaming, there were no special features under consideration.
Alas … only Mildly Recommended.
With a premise like The Zombie Wedding (2023) – the first marital union between woman and monster – I thought I’d be a bit more entertained than I was. The script is fairly broad Farce at times – there are some lazy and unnecessary jabs at organized religion and entirely unrelated social norms that kinda/sorta cheapen the potential – and it hits an awful lot of the same comical beats far too often for my tastes. It’s inspired in spots, though, and I didn’t dislike it in any way. I guess I just expected a bit more than your usual stage-play-adapted to screen than what it delivered. As a live property, I suspect it would be vastly more entertaining than these filmed bits are.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Weekly World News Studios for providing me with complimentary streaming access to The Zombie Wedding (2023) by request for the expressed purpose of completing this review. Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
Wherein I struggled a bit with the script from Greg D’Alessandro is that it occasionally grows a bit too broad, straying liberally from the central idea of families in conflict over these crazy nuptials and, instead, just throws spaghetti at the wall to keep the parade going. For example, Reverend Harry Crump (Seth Gilliam) is not your humble man of God but gets portrayed as this ridiculously flamboyant urban hipster who only looks and acts like the worst Hollywood caricature of the black preacher. (Hell, some might even find the characterization outdated and/or offensive for all I know.) That along with some unnecessary side characters – Ashley’s boss and a few of her co-workers – add nothing but a few stock moments to the picture; and I think a shooting script could’ve been better with a bit more restraint.
I’m all for lunacy, mind you. But unnecessary lunacy? Well, that’s what I consider walking dead.
The Zombie Wedding (2023) was produced by Weekly World New Studios and Notorious Prods. A quick Google.com search indicates the film is available for digital rental or purchase via the streaming platforms of Fandango At Home, Prime Video, and Apple TV. As for the technical specifications? Though I’m no trained video expert, I found the provided sights-and-sounds to be exceptional: the flick never quite escapes looking like it was shot on HD video, and I think that kinda/sorta killed the effect for me here and there. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? As I viewed this one via streaming, there were no special features under consideration.
Alas … only Mildly Recommended.
With a premise like The Zombie Wedding (2023) – the first marital union between woman and monster – I thought I’d be a bit more entertained than I was. The script is fairly broad Farce at times – there are some lazy and unnecessary jabs at organized religion and entirely unrelated social norms that kinda/sorta cheapen the potential – and it hits an awful lot of the same comical beats far too often for my tastes. It’s inspired in spots, though, and I didn’t dislike it in any way. I guess I just expected a bit more than your usual stage-play-adapted to screen than what it delivered. As a live property, I suspect it would be vastly more entertaining than these filmed bits are.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Weekly World News Studios for providing me with complimentary streaming access to The Zombie Wedding (2023) by request for the expressed purpose of completing this review. Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
- Published on
There’s an art to watching bad films that, in all honesty, escapes me.
For example, a number of years back – when I was one of Amazon.com’s Top 1,000 Reviewers – I was frequently contacted by distributors who wished me to take a gander at their latest and greatest with the intent that I’d give them a positive word or two on the consumer giant. A great deal of requests I turned down, mostly because these were newer releases, rarely (if ever) screened, and were obviously so poorly produced that I felt I’d have little to nothing constructive to say about them. However, there was one auteur who was very insistent, and he kept coming back to me, asking more politely. Eventually, I agreed to watch his little opus, a very low-budget docudrama that explored the life and times of a former celebrity. (I’m specifically avoiding spoiling anything because I know this fellow occasionally still checks out SciFiHistory.Net, and I’m really not looking for another throwdown.)
Ahem.
As you might guess, the picture was a disaster; and that’s really putting it mildly. On top of a poorly written story, he had cast talents who couldn’t quite carry the scenes with any emotional impact. While I’ve no problem with substandard production work (I really show up for characters and story to most dramatic pictures anyway), the entire feature was hobbled by poor lighting, even poorer sound work, and a score that sounded tinny in much the same way ancient player pianos ‘ping’ out notes a bit too shrilly. The saving grace was that it only clocked in at little over an hour’s running time, so it wasn’t as if I felt I had invested a good amount of time with the exception of penning a review … which I did and then prepared to post.
Because I like to think of myself fundamentally as a nice guy, I reached out to this producer and warned him that it wasn’t as grand an experience as he had promised. I told him that if he wanted me to post my thoughts – the good, the bad, and the ugly – that I was willing to do so, but I cautioned him that I didn’t want to appear unkind in any way, that his project just wasn’t to my liking, and I had a professional duty to say so. Ever the optimist, he wanted me to go ahead and post my remarks mostly as he felt having the ‘input’ from one of Amazon.com’s reviewers would help his exposure.
Well, it wasn’t but a few days later he reached back out to me demanding that I remove my review. When I asked him why, he insisted that – based on what I wrote – his film clearly wasn’t intended for me as an audience; and he only wanted reviewers involved in his efforts who both understood and appreciated the “unique subculture” he sought to develop with his “brand” of “storytelling.” Over and over again, he stated that it wasn’t because it was a negative review but rather it was that I didn’t grasp what he was trying to accomplish as a viewer, so he felt it best that I take my thoughts down.
I didn’t, and here we are today … with yours truly talking about another really, really, really bad movie. Its name: The Million Eyes Of Sumuru (1967), a production I’ve long been told is a “cult fascination” that deserves to be rediscovered because it “demonstrated peak camp” at a time when watchers just didn’t understand “peak camp.” Directed by Lindsay Shonteff, this Action/Adventure stars Shirley Eaton, George Nader, Frankie Avalon, Klaus Kinski, and Wilfrid Hyde-White in key roles in a story about an egomaniacal woman named Sumuru is hell bent on global domination by the fairer sex.
Buckle up, kids. This might get controversial.
For example, a number of years back – when I was one of Amazon.com’s Top 1,000 Reviewers – I was frequently contacted by distributors who wished me to take a gander at their latest and greatest with the intent that I’d give them a positive word or two on the consumer giant. A great deal of requests I turned down, mostly because these were newer releases, rarely (if ever) screened, and were obviously so poorly produced that I felt I’d have little to nothing constructive to say about them. However, there was one auteur who was very insistent, and he kept coming back to me, asking more politely. Eventually, I agreed to watch his little opus, a very low-budget docudrama that explored the life and times of a former celebrity. (I’m specifically avoiding spoiling anything because I know this fellow occasionally still checks out SciFiHistory.Net, and I’m really not looking for another throwdown.)
Ahem.
As you might guess, the picture was a disaster; and that’s really putting it mildly. On top of a poorly written story, he had cast talents who couldn’t quite carry the scenes with any emotional impact. While I’ve no problem with substandard production work (I really show up for characters and story to most dramatic pictures anyway), the entire feature was hobbled by poor lighting, even poorer sound work, and a score that sounded tinny in much the same way ancient player pianos ‘ping’ out notes a bit too shrilly. The saving grace was that it only clocked in at little over an hour’s running time, so it wasn’t as if I felt I had invested a good amount of time with the exception of penning a review … which I did and then prepared to post.
Because I like to think of myself fundamentally as a nice guy, I reached out to this producer and warned him that it wasn’t as grand an experience as he had promised. I told him that if he wanted me to post my thoughts – the good, the bad, and the ugly – that I was willing to do so, but I cautioned him that I didn’t want to appear unkind in any way, that his project just wasn’t to my liking, and I had a professional duty to say so. Ever the optimist, he wanted me to go ahead and post my remarks mostly as he felt having the ‘input’ from one of Amazon.com’s reviewers would help his exposure.
Well, it wasn’t but a few days later he reached back out to me demanding that I remove my review. When I asked him why, he insisted that – based on what I wrote – his film clearly wasn’t intended for me as an audience; and he only wanted reviewers involved in his efforts who both understood and appreciated the “unique subculture” he sought to develop with his “brand” of “storytelling.” Over and over again, he stated that it wasn’t because it was a negative review but rather it was that I didn’t grasp what he was trying to accomplish as a viewer, so he felt it best that I take my thoughts down.
I didn’t, and here we are today … with yours truly talking about another really, really, really bad movie. Its name: The Million Eyes Of Sumuru (1967), a production I’ve long been told is a “cult fascination” that deserves to be rediscovered because it “demonstrated peak camp” at a time when watchers just didn’t understand “peak camp.” Directed by Lindsay Shonteff, this Action/Adventure stars Shirley Eaton, George Nader, Frankie Avalon, Klaus Kinski, and Wilfrid Hyde-White in key roles in a story about an egomaniacal woman named Sumuru is hell bent on global domination by the fairer sex.
Buckle up, kids. This might get controversial.
(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 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 page citation:
“Sumuru, a megalomaniacal femme fatale, makes a bid for world domination by eliminating male leaders and replacing them with her sexy female agents.”
Make no mistake: The Million Eyes Of Sumuru is a bad movie.
Despite what you might think, I take no pleasure in pronouncing Sumuru as a bad movie. Longtime readers of SciFiHistory.Net know that I go to great lengths – if not great pains – to find something positive or constructive to focus on in my attempt to have something substantive to say about any film. This isn’t always easy, but because it’s always been part of my core philosophy – that even the worst production out there has something good, noble, and kind to say about the art form – I stick to it. I go with it. I aim for the true north.
But Sumuru? You made this one tough, milady.
As a caper set against the backdrop of international intrigue, the story has about everything audiences had come to expect: marquee names, exotic settings, colorful imagery, unusual costumes, secret weapons, hidden agendas, double-crosses, and derring-do. The chief skullduggery focuses on Sumuru (played Shirley Eaton) plotting to seize control of global politics by putting a devious woman behind or in place of every elected male, thus ensuring that her power remains unmatched around the world. Naturally, the wider intelligence community – MI6 and the CIA, at least – uncover this secret campaign of subjugation and put wheels in motion to see Sumuru’s quest squashed before it can take root.
Director Shonteff deserves a great deal of the credit for – minimally – staging this thing so that it effectively looks like the Spy/Thrillers it was intended to mock. The sets and locations used might not have a great deal of character – they certainly don’t hold a candle to what the more popular Bond pictures were doing back then – but the minimalism works pleasantly here and there. In fact, Sumuru’s operational headquarters – this Eastern compound that feels like it was borrowing liberally from Japanese, Chinese, and other influences is respectable grand. Its dungeon(esque) quarters certainly look the part, albeit I swear I saw a wall or two move when the stones should’ve been solid. And the somewhat glitzy costumes make for reasonable diversions, especially when they’re worn by so many fetching specimens of the female form. (No, I’m not being sexist, haters, because this is a spy organization whose agents, scientists, and leaders are all female … and good-looking ones, at that.)
It's when you get beyond those elements that Sumuru just doesn’t work for me.
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“Sumuru, a megalomaniacal femme fatale, makes a bid for world domination by eliminating male leaders and replacing them with her sexy female agents.”
Make no mistake: The Million Eyes Of Sumuru is a bad movie.
Despite what you might think, I take no pleasure in pronouncing Sumuru as a bad movie. Longtime readers of SciFiHistory.Net know that I go to great lengths – if not great pains – to find something positive or constructive to focus on in my attempt to have something substantive to say about any film. This isn’t always easy, but because it’s always been part of my core philosophy – that even the worst production out there has something good, noble, and kind to say about the art form – I stick to it. I go with it. I aim for the true north.
But Sumuru? You made this one tough, milady.
As a caper set against the backdrop of international intrigue, the story has about everything audiences had come to expect: marquee names, exotic settings, colorful imagery, unusual costumes, secret weapons, hidden agendas, double-crosses, and derring-do. The chief skullduggery focuses on Sumuru (played Shirley Eaton) plotting to seize control of global politics by putting a devious woman behind or in place of every elected male, thus ensuring that her power remains unmatched around the world. Naturally, the wider intelligence community – MI6 and the CIA, at least – uncover this secret campaign of subjugation and put wheels in motion to see Sumuru’s quest squashed before it can take root.
Director Shonteff deserves a great deal of the credit for – minimally – staging this thing so that it effectively looks like the Spy/Thrillers it was intended to mock. The sets and locations used might not have a great deal of character – they certainly don’t hold a candle to what the more popular Bond pictures were doing back then – but the minimalism works pleasantly here and there. In fact, Sumuru’s operational headquarters – this Eastern compound that feels like it was borrowing liberally from Japanese, Chinese, and other influences is respectable grand. Its dungeon(esque) quarters certainly look the part, albeit I swear I saw a wall or two move when the stones should’ve been solid. And the somewhat glitzy costumes make for reasonable diversions, especially when they’re worn by so many fetching specimens of the female form. (No, I’m not being sexist, haters, because this is a spy organization whose agents, scientists, and leaders are all female … and good-looking ones, at that.)
It's when you get beyond those elements that Sumuru just doesn’t work for me.
Oh, fine, if you put a gun to my head, then I’ll admit that I have no problem with the core story of American espionage agents being drawn into service on behalf of Great Britain because apparently the CIA owes them a couple of favors. While it arguably feels like all of this schlock was intended to lampoon the growing trend of spy films from its day, Sumuru never really embraces its lunacy. Instead, it slow walks from one sequence to the next – albeit with a bit of style – giving its supposedly charismatic two leads – Nick West (George Nader) and Tommy Carter (Frankie Avalon) – some of the worst one-liners ever conceived for a ‘Comedy’ feature. I realize that humor is a difficult concept, but is it really all that funny to center a script around an all-female terrorist organization requiring unconditional celibacy from its member when those very same operative behave like leg-humping canines in heat when the boss isn’t looking?
In fact, the only one in here who – rather unsurprisingly – gets that it’s all farce is the reliable Klaus Kinski. With a somewhat disheveled appearance, he steals his every scene he’s in as the somewhat off-his-rocker President Boong of Sinonesia, a leader of questionable ethics, insatiable appetites, and flexible sexuality. In the meantime, practically everyone else delivers their lines of dialogue as if they’re bored or ashamed … which I grew as a result.
The Million Eyes Of Sumuru (1967) was produced by Sumuru Films. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at Blue Underground. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I found the provided sights-and-sounds mostly impressive: there are a few shots which may not have much benefitted from this upgrade, though I suspect fans of this cult prospect will be happy as clams. As for the special features? Well, Blue Underground has spared no expense, loading up this two-disc set with two brand-spanking-new audio commentaries, a new feature-length documentary, the RiffTrax Edition of Sumuru, and a few other interesting extras. It’s a solid collection worth a glance.
Alas … only Mildly Recommended.
As I said in my opening, I’ve never been a fan of just plain bad films, never quite grasped their lasting appeal with some … of which I’d have to chalk up The Million Eyes Of Sumuru as a solid prospect, at least. While I understand that none of it was intended to be swallowed whole (or without the requisite salt), I still expect my farces to be delivered with maximum panache, and this tired and disinterested cast – with the exception of Kinski – just didn’t seem to get it. The performances are largely hollow, leaving the story with a great deal of ho-hum instead of the expected hokum. Sure, I’ll appreciate the style, but ultimately, I expect greater substance especially when I’m expected to laugh. I didn’t, and I think few will.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Blue Underground provided me with a complimentary 4K UltraHD Blu-ray of The Million Eyes Of Sumuru (1967) by request for the expressed purpose of completing this review. Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
In fact, the only one in here who – rather unsurprisingly – gets that it’s all farce is the reliable Klaus Kinski. With a somewhat disheveled appearance, he steals his every scene he’s in as the somewhat off-his-rocker President Boong of Sinonesia, a leader of questionable ethics, insatiable appetites, and flexible sexuality. In the meantime, practically everyone else delivers their lines of dialogue as if they’re bored or ashamed … which I grew as a result.
The Million Eyes Of Sumuru (1967) was produced by Sumuru Films. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at Blue Underground. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I found the provided sights-and-sounds mostly impressive: there are a few shots which may not have much benefitted from this upgrade, though I suspect fans of this cult prospect will be happy as clams. As for the special features? Well, Blue Underground has spared no expense, loading up this two-disc set with two brand-spanking-new audio commentaries, a new feature-length documentary, the RiffTrax Edition of Sumuru, and a few other interesting extras. It’s a solid collection worth a glance.
Alas … only Mildly Recommended.
As I said in my opening, I’ve never been a fan of just plain bad films, never quite grasped their lasting appeal with some … of which I’d have to chalk up The Million Eyes Of Sumuru as a solid prospect, at least. While I understand that none of it was intended to be swallowed whole (or without the requisite salt), I still expect my farces to be delivered with maximum panache, and this tired and disinterested cast – with the exception of Kinski – just didn’t seem to get it. The performances are largely hollow, leaving the story with a great deal of ho-hum instead of the expected hokum. Sure, I’ll appreciate the style, but ultimately, I expect greater substance especially when I’m expected to laugh. I didn’t, and I think few will.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Blue Underground provided me with a complimentary 4K UltraHD Blu-ray of The Million Eyes Of Sumuru (1967) by request for the expressed purpose of completing this review. Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
- Published on
(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 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 page citation:
“A group of young adults visit a boarded-up campsite named Crystal Lake where they soon encounter the mysterious Jason Voorhees and his deadly intentions.”
What’s important in critiquing any Horror franchise is to – first and foremost – realize that logic must be left on the doorstep.
You see, things happen in Horror films that defy logic; and generally speaking, they happen because they’re ritualistic, exploitative, or just damn fun. 1+1 doesn’t always equal 2, and this structure is exactly what allows both the protagonist and the antagonist to function in such a way that they craft their own means of the respective existences. The killer defies death – sometimes over multiple occasions – and even the basic laws of physics, if necessary to complete a task; and the victims – while certainly far from squeaky clean – have to be guilty of some major or minor atrocity if their deaths are to have any narrative significance. They don’t just die; on some level, they must deserve it.
That’s why thinking about a decades old intellectual oddity like Friday The 13th – a franchise that some suggest grew out of global disenfranchisement with ‘the system’ or the ‘status quo’ that doesn’t hold guilty parties responsible any longer for the crime they commit – there is a mythological foundation. According to the legend as crafted by Victor Miller and Ron Kurz in the 1980 original, young Jason Voorhees drowned at Camp Crystal Lake when the counselors who should’ve been guaranteeing his safety were off engaging in behaviors that consume folks of that age such as drinking, drugging, and necking. While Jason does make an appearance in that first film, a good deal of the revenge killing is accomplished by his emotionally scarred mother (as played by Betsy Palmer). Thus, it’s clearly established that these irresponsible youngsters are paying the price for what grievances those of their generation have inflicted upon the rest of us.
So, in this odd switcheroo, it’s Jason Voorhees who becomes the continuing hero of the ongoing film saga. (Yes, yes, yes: I realize some cast him as an antihero, but that’s an argument for a different day.) Like Jesus Christ himself, Jason transcends death; and he returns to the mortal plane intent upon balancing the scales that have been tilted in favor of evildoers no matter where he finds himself, be it Crystal Lake, Manhattan, or even Outer Space. Much like the Nietzschean idea of the Ubermensch, the seminal Voorhees has created his own way of life based entirely on what lessons he’s learned from his past. As this unstoppable righter of wrongs, he’ll stop at nothing to carry out any sentence as the judge, jury, and executioner; and audiences have celebrated his methods from the beginning.
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“A group of young adults visit a boarded-up campsite named Crystal Lake where they soon encounter the mysterious Jason Voorhees and his deadly intentions.”
What’s important in critiquing any Horror franchise is to – first and foremost – realize that logic must be left on the doorstep.
You see, things happen in Horror films that defy logic; and generally speaking, they happen because they’re ritualistic, exploitative, or just damn fun. 1+1 doesn’t always equal 2, and this structure is exactly what allows both the protagonist and the antagonist to function in such a way that they craft their own means of the respective existences. The killer defies death – sometimes over multiple occasions – and even the basic laws of physics, if necessary to complete a task; and the victims – while certainly far from squeaky clean – have to be guilty of some major or minor atrocity if their deaths are to have any narrative significance. They don’t just die; on some level, they must deserve it.
That’s why thinking about a decades old intellectual oddity like Friday The 13th – a franchise that some suggest grew out of global disenfranchisement with ‘the system’ or the ‘status quo’ that doesn’t hold guilty parties responsible any longer for the crime they commit – there is a mythological foundation. According to the legend as crafted by Victor Miller and Ron Kurz in the 1980 original, young Jason Voorhees drowned at Camp Crystal Lake when the counselors who should’ve been guaranteeing his safety were off engaging in behaviors that consume folks of that age such as drinking, drugging, and necking. While Jason does make an appearance in that first film, a good deal of the revenge killing is accomplished by his emotionally scarred mother (as played by Betsy Palmer). Thus, it’s clearly established that these irresponsible youngsters are paying the price for what grievances those of their generation have inflicted upon the rest of us.
So, in this odd switcheroo, it’s Jason Voorhees who becomes the continuing hero of the ongoing film saga. (Yes, yes, yes: I realize some cast him as an antihero, but that’s an argument for a different day.) Like Jesus Christ himself, Jason transcends death; and he returns to the mortal plane intent upon balancing the scales that have been tilted in favor of evildoers no matter where he finds himself, be it Crystal Lake, Manhattan, or even Outer Space. Much like the Nietzschean idea of the Ubermensch, the seminal Voorhees has created his own way of life based entirely on what lessons he’s learned from his past. As this unstoppable righter of wrongs, he’ll stop at nothing to carry out any sentence as the judge, jury, and executioner; and audiences have celebrated his methods from the beginning.
Still, it can’t be easy for any crusader to evolve as the times are always a’changin’. As I suggested, Jason’s invention – whether we agree on precisely why he was created or not – remains a cultural event, an instinctual reaction to the signs of the times; but – in 2009 with the release of Friday The 13th, a loose reboot if ever there were – we are not the same folks we were back in 1980. There’s been a lot of water under that bridge, and we’ve evolved (to some degree) as a society. How might those differences be accounted for? What alterations might be required in order the horrific champion to still fit in as naturally as possible? Thus, the task for screenwriters Damian Shannon, Mark Swift, and Mark Wheaton might not have been as monumental as re-envisioning, say, Citizen Kane (1941), but it still came with challenges.
The result, thankfully, is to remain mostly true to the bones of the original body: this Voorhees isn’t all that different from the ones who came before, and he still finds himself surrounded by young’uns(ish) who can’t quite behave as responsibly as perhaps they should. Kids still trespass. They still do things they’ve been specifically told not to. They swear, and they reject authority, and they flash their middle finger to ‘the man.’ They drink and smoke and rebel because they can, not because they should. They don’t look twice before crossing the street. It’s a wonder they ever make it to adulthood, but – in the universe where Jason Voorhees exists – not all of them do.
The inescapable problem, though, in pushing any story forward is that sometimes – as is the case in this Friday the 13th installment – Jason just kills because he can, and that’s just not proper nor respectful of the established mythology.
The film opens with a twenty-minute vignette essentially meant to underscore that the Crystal Lake legend lives on: a group of five expendables are hiking in search of the famed summer spot which has also been rumored to now grow some of the best marijuana available. As was the case in those days of old, these trespassers engage in the usual lascivious behavior that catches the attention of the original watcher in the woods; and it isn’t long before the estimable Mr. Voorhees shows up – with a slightly different appearance than remembered (but I won’t spoil it) – and dispenses his bloody brand of justice. Afterwards, there’s a quick fade-to-black, the requisite title card, and – when the lights come up – the audience is introduced to another group of wandering rebel rousers, all headed for – ahem – the same vacation destination.
At a roadside minimart, this group encounters Clay Miller (Jared Padalecki), a young man in search of his missing sister Whitney (Amanda Righetti) whom was one of the apparently victims of the film’s opening chapter. Because he’s a bit too virtuous and responsible, Clay doesn’t fit in with this bunch, so he’s automatically ostracized and belittled by the assembly’s Alpha Male, Trent (Travis Van Winkle). Respectfully, Clay sticks to his business and parts ways with them, but anyone who’s seen any Horror film of this type knows full well that these two will inevitably come together later in the picture where sparks will fly yet again.
The result, thankfully, is to remain mostly true to the bones of the original body: this Voorhees isn’t all that different from the ones who came before, and he still finds himself surrounded by young’uns(ish) who can’t quite behave as responsibly as perhaps they should. Kids still trespass. They still do things they’ve been specifically told not to. They swear, and they reject authority, and they flash their middle finger to ‘the man.’ They drink and smoke and rebel because they can, not because they should. They don’t look twice before crossing the street. It’s a wonder they ever make it to adulthood, but – in the universe where Jason Voorhees exists – not all of them do.
The inescapable problem, though, in pushing any story forward is that sometimes – as is the case in this Friday the 13th installment – Jason just kills because he can, and that’s just not proper nor respectful of the established mythology.
The film opens with a twenty-minute vignette essentially meant to underscore that the Crystal Lake legend lives on: a group of five expendables are hiking in search of the famed summer spot which has also been rumored to now grow some of the best marijuana available. As was the case in those days of old, these trespassers engage in the usual lascivious behavior that catches the attention of the original watcher in the woods; and it isn’t long before the estimable Mr. Voorhees shows up – with a slightly different appearance than remembered (but I won’t spoil it) – and dispenses his bloody brand of justice. Afterwards, there’s a quick fade-to-black, the requisite title card, and – when the lights come up – the audience is introduced to another group of wandering rebel rousers, all headed for – ahem – the same vacation destination.
At a roadside minimart, this group encounters Clay Miller (Jared Padalecki), a young man in search of his missing sister Whitney (Amanda Righetti) whom was one of the apparently victims of the film’s opening chapter. Because he’s a bit too virtuous and responsible, Clay doesn’t fit in with this bunch, so he’s automatically ostracized and belittled by the assembly’s Alpha Male, Trent (Travis Van Winkle). Respectfully, Clay sticks to his business and parts ways with them, but anyone who’s seen any Horror film of this type knows full well that these two will inevitably come together later in the picture where sparks will fly yet again.
From here, the plot of this Friday pretty much devolves into the usual nonsense, the kind of antics where the conscripted young people go about showing how irresponsible they can be – all necessary acts in order to justify Jason’s forthcoming death sentences – so there’s little sense in making much ado about any of it. Yes, they drink, they smoke, they fornicate, and it’s handled with the usual glorification one expects when attending the cinema. (FYI: Julianna Guill’s lovemaking prowess is particular effective – it might make some blush – though I suspect it was overplayed a bit for minor comic effect.) The earnest Clay gets deeper and deeper into the local scene, and he slowly learns that something is most definitely amiss in this mostly backwoods rural township.
Beyond the mechanics of the plot, however, Friday starts to devolve into little more than a slasher project with some modest upgrades.
Clearly, director Marcus Nispel and the screenwriters wanted a bit more structure to the world of Jason Voorhees, and they flesh it out, first, by giving the Crystal Lake legend more depth with the locals and, second, by treating the character as more than the sum of just a glorified killer. In this context, Jason becomes a modestly skilled hunter – someone far more in touch with his surroundings and the associated terrain. Underground tunnels are introduced as the explanation for how he’s always able to outpace his fleeing victims; and the mythology is given almost superhero association by giving our hero/antihero his own – ahem – Batcave, a place from which he can coordinate his vast, crime-fighting enterprise.
While much of this substance never really gets in the way of Friday inevitably doing its thing – meaning dispatching these young knuckleheads in the prime of their short-lived and otherwise insignificant lives – the script violates the long-established moral code Jason had somewhat lived by: in a few instances, he just kills for killing’s sake, even though the victim has done nothing wrong.
As an example, early in the picture Clay stumbles across a local barn where he wants to post a flyer regarding his missing sister. Inside, he finds Donnie (Kyle Davis) at work feeding tree trimmings into the obligatory woodchipper. (Yes, rest assured you’re going to see this thing again … but with less wood!) Eventually, Clay leaves, but it isn’t much later when Jason shows up to kill Donnie for, alas, no apparent reason other than he could accomplish the dark deed. Whereas the previous film installments (to varying degrees) had suggested Jason’s wrath was reserved for those who had either wronged him or wider society in some way, Donnie comes off a simpleton who was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Though there’s a loose hint at something more, it’s never explained enough to make much sense; and his murder, sadly, is little more than pure exploitation.
Furthermore, Shannon and Swift’s script never quite clarifies why a few locals seem to be very aware of Jason’s legendary exploits whilst the police – represented by Officer Bracke (the great Richard Burgi) – seem almost blissfully ignorant of it. How could he not know? I realize that there’s been a passage of time since the original incidents, but if the townies are still talking it up then wouldn’t the authorities minimally reference it from time to time? You’d think – what with all of the missing persons reports tied to the area – someone with a badge might take significant notice of even what remains to an urban/rural legend, but such attention would stretch beyond the bounds of what’s usually part and parcel of the finished product. (Never forget: logic is the great Achilles’ Heel of this whole damn genre.)
None of these complaints are meant to suggest that Friday doesn’t fit within the greater cinematic universe of Jason Voorhees because, meh, that’s inaccurate. It does, but it just doesn’t make this reviewer all that pleased with the reinvention. The film is full of efficiently shot sequences – along with a few very solid jump scares – and the cinematography, settings, lighting, and performances are respectfully stylish, maybe occasionally even a bit too much for Horror. At times, the picture tries to suggest that it’s as much a remake as it is a continuation, so much so that initially I struggled with figuring out exactly what all involved wanted me to make of this adventure. Ultimately, treating it as a continuation – ignoring a good deal of the silliness that was Friday The 13th: Jason Takes Manhattan (1989), Jason Goes To Hell: The Final Friday (1993), and Jason X (2001) – of the earlier entries work just fine. In fact, methinks that’s the only way any of it makes as perfect sense as is humanly possible.
Beyond the mechanics of the plot, however, Friday starts to devolve into little more than a slasher project with some modest upgrades.
Clearly, director Marcus Nispel and the screenwriters wanted a bit more structure to the world of Jason Voorhees, and they flesh it out, first, by giving the Crystal Lake legend more depth with the locals and, second, by treating the character as more than the sum of just a glorified killer. In this context, Jason becomes a modestly skilled hunter – someone far more in touch with his surroundings and the associated terrain. Underground tunnels are introduced as the explanation for how he’s always able to outpace his fleeing victims; and the mythology is given almost superhero association by giving our hero/antihero his own – ahem – Batcave, a place from which he can coordinate his vast, crime-fighting enterprise.
While much of this substance never really gets in the way of Friday inevitably doing its thing – meaning dispatching these young knuckleheads in the prime of their short-lived and otherwise insignificant lives – the script violates the long-established moral code Jason had somewhat lived by: in a few instances, he just kills for killing’s sake, even though the victim has done nothing wrong.
As an example, early in the picture Clay stumbles across a local barn where he wants to post a flyer regarding his missing sister. Inside, he finds Donnie (Kyle Davis) at work feeding tree trimmings into the obligatory woodchipper. (Yes, rest assured you’re going to see this thing again … but with less wood!) Eventually, Clay leaves, but it isn’t much later when Jason shows up to kill Donnie for, alas, no apparent reason other than he could accomplish the dark deed. Whereas the previous film installments (to varying degrees) had suggested Jason’s wrath was reserved for those who had either wronged him or wider society in some way, Donnie comes off a simpleton who was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Though there’s a loose hint at something more, it’s never explained enough to make much sense; and his murder, sadly, is little more than pure exploitation.
Furthermore, Shannon and Swift’s script never quite clarifies why a few locals seem to be very aware of Jason’s legendary exploits whilst the police – represented by Officer Bracke (the great Richard Burgi) – seem almost blissfully ignorant of it. How could he not know? I realize that there’s been a passage of time since the original incidents, but if the townies are still talking it up then wouldn’t the authorities minimally reference it from time to time? You’d think – what with all of the missing persons reports tied to the area – someone with a badge might take significant notice of even what remains to an urban/rural legend, but such attention would stretch beyond the bounds of what’s usually part and parcel of the finished product. (Never forget: logic is the great Achilles’ Heel of this whole damn genre.)
None of these complaints are meant to suggest that Friday doesn’t fit within the greater cinematic universe of Jason Voorhees because, meh, that’s inaccurate. It does, but it just doesn’t make this reviewer all that pleased with the reinvention. The film is full of efficiently shot sequences – along with a few very solid jump scares – and the cinematography, settings, lighting, and performances are respectfully stylish, maybe occasionally even a bit too much for Horror. At times, the picture tries to suggest that it’s as much a remake as it is a continuation, so much so that initially I struggled with figuring out exactly what all involved wanted me to make of this adventure. Ultimately, treating it as a continuation – ignoring a good deal of the silliness that was Friday The 13th: Jason Takes Manhattan (1989), Jason Goes To Hell: The Final Friday (1993), and Jason X (2001) – of the earlier entries work just fine. In fact, methinks that’s the only way any of it makes as perfect sense as is humanly possible.
Sticking true to one of Horror’s biggest conventions, this Friday delivers a solid turn for Righetti to be ‘Final Girl,’ and in some ways it feels like a respectable progression for where this franchise began. (There’s some footage early that is intended to lightly reshape the first film, and it’s quite good.) Mothers love their sons and vice versa … or that’s the way it was all intended. The last reel functions the way it should, dishing out one last twist that mirrors thematically what this franchise’s storytellers first began all those years back in 1980.
Friday The 13th (2009) was produced by New Line Cinema, Paramount Pictures, Platinum Dunes, Crystal Lake Entertainment, and Sean S. Cunningham Films. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at Arrow Films. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I thought that the provided sights-and-sounds were nothing short of fantastic. Dare I say? This might be the best Jason has ever looked, and that’s impressive. Lastly, as for the special features? This limited edition two-disc set includes two different cuts of the flick along with new audio commentaries and a wealth of behind-the-scenes extras that should make long-time fans happy for a revisit even if you found the story a bit underwhelming. Still, it might be ‘the release’ for completists, though I’d be hard-pressed to encourage casual viewers and buyers to make the investment.
Mildly recommended.
Look, there’s something to the whole idea of a young boy losing his life getting resurrected to fight for his own justice, and yet a good deal of Friday The 13th (2009) leans differently. In here, the inestimable Jason Voorhees doesn’t have much stake in these killings; and, instead, there’s only loose and predictable associations tied to why he felt it necessary to come out of these woods and enact a whole new campaign of terror. Maybe I was expecting him to be a bit older and wiser – it has been a few decades, you know – but it still seemed like he’d lost some of his luster and was murdering this cast because they were, mostly, so frivolous and unlikable. At this point, wouldn’t some real estate mogul scarfed up such prime real estate as Camp Crystal Lake and turn it into a resort destination, thus driving our hero/antihero out of the slashing business? Who in the hell holds the lease, for Pete’s sake?
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Arrow Films provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray copy of Friday The 13th (2009) by request for the expressed purpose of completing this review. Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
Friday The 13th (2009) was produced by New Line Cinema, Paramount Pictures, Platinum Dunes, Crystal Lake Entertainment, and Sean S. Cunningham Films. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at Arrow Films. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I thought that the provided sights-and-sounds were nothing short of fantastic. Dare I say? This might be the best Jason has ever looked, and that’s impressive. Lastly, as for the special features? This limited edition two-disc set includes two different cuts of the flick along with new audio commentaries and a wealth of behind-the-scenes extras that should make long-time fans happy for a revisit even if you found the story a bit underwhelming. Still, it might be ‘the release’ for completists, though I’d be hard-pressed to encourage casual viewers and buyers to make the investment.
Mildly recommended.
Look, there’s something to the whole idea of a young boy losing his life getting resurrected to fight for his own justice, and yet a good deal of Friday The 13th (2009) leans differently. In here, the inestimable Jason Voorhees doesn’t have much stake in these killings; and, instead, there’s only loose and predictable associations tied to why he felt it necessary to come out of these woods and enact a whole new campaign of terror. Maybe I was expecting him to be a bit older and wiser – it has been a few decades, you know – but it still seemed like he’d lost some of his luster and was murdering this cast because they were, mostly, so frivolous and unlikable. At this point, wouldn’t some real estate mogul scarfed up such prime real estate as Camp Crystal Lake and turn it into a resort destination, thus driving our hero/antihero out of the slashing business? Who in the hell holds the lease, for Pete’s sake?
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Arrow Films provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray copy of Friday The 13th (2009) by request for the expressed purpose of completing this review. Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
- Published on
It isn’t uncommon for purveyors of entertainment to experience a level of frustration with the occasional book, novel, or television program.
Often times, audiences are expected to sift through a great deal of set-up, not all of it entirely necessary. There are characters to be introduced. There are places to be set. There are circumstances and/or relationships that need to be clarified and/or set into motion. Along this treacherous path, breadcrumbs are typically laid as a kinda/sorta latent foreshadowing of things to come; so we’re additionally tasked with both catching and retaining such nuggets of information that we alone feel might be relevant for something that’s going to transpire later in the journey. Granted, we don’t always know what those developments might be, and yet that can be the ultimate reward: that measure of ambiguity often leads to some of the screen’s best and biggest surprises, and I think each of us treasures a good reveal as much as the next person.
Regardless, the quality of the formula varies widely based on the skills of the storyteller. In fact, I think a great many writers and directors get a bit bogged down in trying to stick too closely to administering what they feel is required of the respective genre they’re working in. Attached perhaps too closely to a particular script or their own reputations, they go to great lengths to ensure that A, B, C, and D are properly laid out or at least laid out so well that E, F, G, and H make perfect sense when they occur. I’ve been told that there are a great many bodies in motion in the making of any production, so I believe that all of these levers are sometimes a bit too much for even the most accomplished professional.
Perhaps that’s why a film like Torso (1973) – a very, very, very good feature once it inevitably finds its central story – might come across as a bit confusing or downright uninteresting with its somewhat extensive set-up. Audiences are given a number of faces and a small parade of circumstances that suggest they’re in store for a basic criminal procedural when the truth is that director Sergio Martino had something a bit more waiting in the wings for them. Once he gets there, Torso is a wild experience, indeed … but I thought the first half was a bit of a slog for reasons that’ll become clear shortly.
(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 the final assessment. If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
Often times, audiences are expected to sift through a great deal of set-up, not all of it entirely necessary. There are characters to be introduced. There are places to be set. There are circumstances and/or relationships that need to be clarified and/or set into motion. Along this treacherous path, breadcrumbs are typically laid as a kinda/sorta latent foreshadowing of things to come; so we’re additionally tasked with both catching and retaining such nuggets of information that we alone feel might be relevant for something that’s going to transpire later in the journey. Granted, we don’t always know what those developments might be, and yet that can be the ultimate reward: that measure of ambiguity often leads to some of the screen’s best and biggest surprises, and I think each of us treasures a good reveal as much as the next person.
Regardless, the quality of the formula varies widely based on the skills of the storyteller. In fact, I think a great many writers and directors get a bit bogged down in trying to stick too closely to administering what they feel is required of the respective genre they’re working in. Attached perhaps too closely to a particular script or their own reputations, they go to great lengths to ensure that A, B, C, and D are properly laid out or at least laid out so well that E, F, G, and H make perfect sense when they occur. I’ve been told that there are a great many bodies in motion in the making of any production, so I believe that all of these levers are sometimes a bit too much for even the most accomplished professional.
Perhaps that’s why a film like Torso (1973) – a very, very, very good feature once it inevitably finds its central story – might come across as a bit confusing or downright uninteresting with its somewhat extensive set-up. Audiences are given a number of faces and a small parade of circumstances that suggest they’re in store for a basic criminal procedural when the truth is that director Sergio Martino had something a bit more waiting in the wings for them. Once he gets there, Torso is a wild experience, indeed … but I thought the first half was a bit of a slog for reasons that’ll become clear shortly.
(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 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 page citation:
“Someone is strangling coeds in Perugia. The only clue is that the killer owns a red and black scarf, and police are stumped. American exchange student Jane and her friends decide to take a break from classes by going up to Danielle's uncle's villa in the country. Unfortunately, the killer decides to follow, and the women begin suffering a rapid attrition problem.”
Any film emerging under the name Torso and known to be a Giallo – that subgenre dedicated to spinning murder mysteries usually with buckets of blood to spare – might seem like a scary prospect to some. Generally speaking, I’d agree. Though I’m a fan of Horror as a species all of its own, I’ve had mixed feelings about a lot of the Giallos I’ve watched: some have been a bit confusing, some have been disappointing, and some have been not worth their respective hype. The promise and the delivery vary widely, so I tend to stick with just the big names with known histories when seeking out something entirely on my own.
Yet, Torso was a wonderful surprise, mostly because writer/director Martino clearly had an idea for a story he wanted to tell. The problem, however, is that you have to wait quite a bit before you get to it.
In the film’s first half, we’re introduced to a bevy of good-looking young(ish) art students who are a bunch of those post-1960’s free love beatniks who live their lives without seemingly a care in the world except for where their next ‘good time’ is coming from. Dani (Tina Aumont) can’t seem to shake the unwanted affections of a lifelong admirer Stefano (Roberto Bisacco) even though she seems perfect accepting of her amorous uncle’s somewhat aged charms. Flo (Patrizia Adiutori) justs wants to be wonderfully felt-up by her young male lover. Carol (Conchita Airoldi) can’t choose between the various men coming on to her, making her surprisingly aloof to carnal passions in the slightest. Then there’s Jane (Suzy Kendall), the American girl studying abroad who is developing affections for her art teacher Franz (John Richardson).
All of this struggle for attention falls apart once Flo and Carol (and a few minor others) fall prey to the machinations of a serial killer who seems curiously focused on this special group of friends. Why, if only the police were any good at their jobs, then perhaps it could all of this deviousness could come to an end!
“Someone is strangling coeds in Perugia. The only clue is that the killer owns a red and black scarf, and police are stumped. American exchange student Jane and her friends decide to take a break from classes by going up to Danielle's uncle's villa in the country. Unfortunately, the killer decides to follow, and the women begin suffering a rapid attrition problem.”
Any film emerging under the name Torso and known to be a Giallo – that subgenre dedicated to spinning murder mysteries usually with buckets of blood to spare – might seem like a scary prospect to some. Generally speaking, I’d agree. Though I’m a fan of Horror as a species all of its own, I’ve had mixed feelings about a lot of the Giallos I’ve watched: some have been a bit confusing, some have been disappointing, and some have been not worth their respective hype. The promise and the delivery vary widely, so I tend to stick with just the big names with known histories when seeking out something entirely on my own.
Yet, Torso was a wonderful surprise, mostly because writer/director Martino clearly had an idea for a story he wanted to tell. The problem, however, is that you have to wait quite a bit before you get to it.
In the film’s first half, we’re introduced to a bevy of good-looking young(ish) art students who are a bunch of those post-1960’s free love beatniks who live their lives without seemingly a care in the world except for where their next ‘good time’ is coming from. Dani (Tina Aumont) can’t seem to shake the unwanted affections of a lifelong admirer Stefano (Roberto Bisacco) even though she seems perfect accepting of her amorous uncle’s somewhat aged charms. Flo (Patrizia Adiutori) justs wants to be wonderfully felt-up by her young male lover. Carol (Conchita Airoldi) can’t choose between the various men coming on to her, making her surprisingly aloof to carnal passions in the slightest. Then there’s Jane (Suzy Kendall), the American girl studying abroad who is developing affections for her art teacher Franz (John Richardson).
All of this struggle for attention falls apart once Flo and Carol (and a few minor others) fall prey to the machinations of a serial killer who seems curiously focused on this special group of friends. Why, if only the police were any good at their jobs, then perhaps it could all of this deviousness could come to an end!
Despite some mild interest here and there, this protracted set-up for Torso is a bit tiring. It isn’t that it Martino and Ernesto Gastaldi’s script is poorly or predictably written; rather it’s that it’s all delivered with far too much feigned melodrama for it to seem authentic. I’ve read that Italian cinema in general suffered through some spells here and there wherein dialogue and characterization were a bit of a throwback to simply storytelling – much the conventional theatrical dramas of the U.S. in the 1940’s and 1950’s – and that seems to be the case here. Even though all of this is meant to make me care a bit more about this rather bland assortment of players, it just doesn’t work, almost to the point wherein I wished the killer would step-up and get busy with expressing his various psychoses sooner.
What slowly develops, though, is the fact that all of this slumming in the big Italian city was little more than some prolonged set-up, making me feel that what Martino really wanted to apply his skills as a director was to the second half.
Distraught over the loss of two of their cliché, these young coeds with their perfectly sculpted bodies are beside themselves with grief. Eventually, Uncle Nino (Carlo Alighiero) suggests that the ladies go away for a few days to his mountain villa to blow off a bit of steam on his dime … and this is where Torso shifts into a gear worth the delay. Mind you, there’s a little additional set-up required once the transition takes place; but –once it does – audiences find themselves suddenly in the midst of what might be one of the quintessential slasher films worthy of academic study.
Longtime readers of SciFiHistory.Net might know that I’m not all that enamored with conventional Horror of this variety; and I’ve often stated that the reason is that far too many basic slasher entries spend too much time in both lazy writing, God-awful characterization, and too much bloodletting. Frankly, there’s so little story in them that I find myself zoning out, wondering pointless things like ‘I wonder why costuming thought that would be a good look for something who basically looses her head in the second scene?’ If the project is unfocused, then I tend to follow suit. So I always give props to those of you who champion these films because they are their own unique animal.
Still, Torso excels winningly.
Granted, Martino’s pacing could’ve been sped up a bit here and there – he gets rather involved with long, intricate sequences but thankfully makes the wait worthwhile with solid payoffs – but under his stewardship the nubile Jane becomes one of filmdom’s first ‘Last Girls,’ those relentlessly spirited females who face some of Horror’s darkest, dimmest odds and manage to survive where others perished. Kendall gives a great and grounded performance in this second half, equal parts grim and gutsy, and I’m surprised I haven’t heard more of her career as a consequence. Was she too plucky for the screen? Was she not plucky enough? Granted, I think it’s an understated sexuality here that makes her work so appealing – Torso never takes the easy way out with its sex and violence, and that’s honestly to be commended – but I’m still a bit astonished that this didn’t lead to her being in increased demand.
What slowly develops, though, is the fact that all of this slumming in the big Italian city was little more than some prolonged set-up, making me feel that what Martino really wanted to apply his skills as a director was to the second half.
Distraught over the loss of two of their cliché, these young coeds with their perfectly sculpted bodies are beside themselves with grief. Eventually, Uncle Nino (Carlo Alighiero) suggests that the ladies go away for a few days to his mountain villa to blow off a bit of steam on his dime … and this is where Torso shifts into a gear worth the delay. Mind you, there’s a little additional set-up required once the transition takes place; but –once it does – audiences find themselves suddenly in the midst of what might be one of the quintessential slasher films worthy of academic study.
Longtime readers of SciFiHistory.Net might know that I’m not all that enamored with conventional Horror of this variety; and I’ve often stated that the reason is that far too many basic slasher entries spend too much time in both lazy writing, God-awful characterization, and too much bloodletting. Frankly, there’s so little story in them that I find myself zoning out, wondering pointless things like ‘I wonder why costuming thought that would be a good look for something who basically looses her head in the second scene?’ If the project is unfocused, then I tend to follow suit. So I always give props to those of you who champion these films because they are their own unique animal.
Still, Torso excels winningly.
Granted, Martino’s pacing could’ve been sped up a bit here and there – he gets rather involved with long, intricate sequences but thankfully makes the wait worthwhile with solid payoffs – but under his stewardship the nubile Jane becomes one of filmdom’s first ‘Last Girls,’ those relentlessly spirited females who face some of Horror’s darkest, dimmest odds and manage to survive where others perished. Kendall gives a great and grounded performance in this second half, equal parts grim and gutsy, and I’m surprised I haven’t heard more of her career as a consequence. Was she too plucky for the screen? Was she not plucky enough? Granted, I think it’s an understated sexuality here that makes her work so appealing – Torso never takes the easy way out with its sex and violence, and that’s honestly to be commended – but I’m still a bit astonished that this didn’t lead to her being in increased demand.
Ah, well …
Perhaps the lady aspired to other heights, as her IMDB.com profile suggests she all but disappeared in the late 1970’s.
Otherwise, Torso never quite shrugged off feeling very much like it was two different films trying to come together as one whole. Though I like whodunnits, there’s not nearly the amount of clues or enough connective tissue left to make this one worth the attempt. (The guilty culprit is known, and there are still enough strategically placed alternatives to keep his identity concealed.) The melodrama of its players – a lukewarm grounding in forced human drama played a bit too overwrought to be taken seriously – might have some struggling with where it all begins, but I encourage those of you who exist in an orbit where Horror and Slasher projects are still worthwhile to hang with it. That second half is exceptional.
Torso (1973) was produced by Compagnia Cinematografica Champion. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been handled by the fine folks at Arrow Films. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I found the provided sights-and-sounds to be exceptional. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? Arrow never disappoints, and the disc is loaded with some solid shorts, interviews, an audio commentary, and a few more little bits. It’s a fabulous collection, one any fan should be thrilled to explore.
Strongly recommended.
While I’m not one of Giallo’s biggest cheerleaders, Torso (1973) – in its second half – truly won me over. I still have some minor quibbles with the rather slim story and maybe even a few of the slightly wooden performances, but once this flick establishes the story writer/director Martino probably wanted to tell it’s a well-constructed Hitchcockian or De Palma-style thriller. Furthermore, that second half is, arguably, propelled by some fabulous cinematography. Like most Giallos, don’t try to figure it out or guess the whodunnit as far too many of the backstories are obscured; just sit back and let the later reels sizzle the way only a master storyteller could deliver.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Arrow Films provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray copy of Torso (1973) by request for the expressed purpose of completing this review. Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
Perhaps the lady aspired to other heights, as her IMDB.com profile suggests she all but disappeared in the late 1970’s.
Otherwise, Torso never quite shrugged off feeling very much like it was two different films trying to come together as one whole. Though I like whodunnits, there’s not nearly the amount of clues or enough connective tissue left to make this one worth the attempt. (The guilty culprit is known, and there are still enough strategically placed alternatives to keep his identity concealed.) The melodrama of its players – a lukewarm grounding in forced human drama played a bit too overwrought to be taken seriously – might have some struggling with where it all begins, but I encourage those of you who exist in an orbit where Horror and Slasher projects are still worthwhile to hang with it. That second half is exceptional.
Torso (1973) was produced by Compagnia Cinematografica Champion. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been handled by the fine folks at Arrow Films. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I found the provided sights-and-sounds to be exceptional. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? Arrow never disappoints, and the disc is loaded with some solid shorts, interviews, an audio commentary, and a few more little bits. It’s a fabulous collection, one any fan should be thrilled to explore.
Strongly recommended.
While I’m not one of Giallo’s biggest cheerleaders, Torso (1973) – in its second half – truly won me over. I still have some minor quibbles with the rather slim story and maybe even a few of the slightly wooden performances, but once this flick establishes the story writer/director Martino probably wanted to tell it’s a well-constructed Hitchcockian or De Palma-style thriller. Furthermore, that second half is, arguably, propelled by some fabulous cinematography. Like most Giallos, don’t try to figure it out or guess the whodunnit as far too many of the backstories are obscured; just sit back and let the later reels sizzle the way only a master storyteller could deliver.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Arrow Films provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray copy of Torso (1973) by request for the expressed purpose of completing this review. Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
- Published on
On one level – and this may be a bit controversial – I contend that the character of Riddick (played by action star Vin Diesel) is one of Science Fiction’s least understood players.
Yes, yes, and yes: he’s obviously an antihero, which is largely only meant to say that he’s the central character in his own cinematic universe and that he operates on wildly unconventional wavelengths. I think that there are some on the Information Superhighway who talk about films and TV without knowing the true definition of the classical antihero, thinking it’s only about being negative, cynical, and/or sarcastic. I think the truth is that even antiheroes have a code of ethics they operate from; it’s just that they often incorporate a fair amount of wiggle room to allow for them to reach a different conclusion that might best serve whatever agenda is in place at the time.
No, my central point is that Riddick – as crafted by creators David Twohy, Jim Wheat, and Ken Wheat in 2000’s B-Movie opus Pitch Black – doesn’t quite resemble the same ex-convict who shows up in the vastly more complex and dynamic follow-up The Chronicles Of Riddick (2004). Oh, make no mistake that Diesel still looks the part, but somewhere between 2000 and 2004 the screenwriters got together – allegedly with the actor – and drew up a blueprint for an entire theatrical universe to revolve around this curious lead. Antiheroes – as great as they are – don’t typically have whole galaxies revolve around them; rather, they tend to exist in the places caught between the dark and the light. While they might inevitably do something heroic to serve the wider existence of mankind, I think they usually do so begrudgingly, in spite of what the cost might be to them personally. They don’t stumble into, say, godhood: they shrug it off because the emperor’s new clothes never fit.
If you haven’t figured it out by now, then let me state it this way: my biggest bone of contention with Chronicles is that its makers delivered a version of the character that defied the expectations of its already earned audience. Half of the movie felt right, and half of it felt like it was conceived and written for a different character. As a consequence, the box office went awry; and the promised follow-ups never materialized … or never materialized in the manner in which they were originally plotted. That’s my suspicion, at least, and I’m sticking with it.
(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 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 page citation:
“Richard Bruno Riddick, now a hunted man, finds himself in the middle of two opposing forces in a major crusade. Lord Marshal is a warrior priest who is the leader of a sect that is waging the tenth and perhaps final crusade five hundred years in the future. Aereon is an ambassador from the Elemental race. She is an ethereal being who helps Riddick unearth his origins.”
Yes, yes, and yes: he’s obviously an antihero, which is largely only meant to say that he’s the central character in his own cinematic universe and that he operates on wildly unconventional wavelengths. I think that there are some on the Information Superhighway who talk about films and TV without knowing the true definition of the classical antihero, thinking it’s only about being negative, cynical, and/or sarcastic. I think the truth is that even antiheroes have a code of ethics they operate from; it’s just that they often incorporate a fair amount of wiggle room to allow for them to reach a different conclusion that might best serve whatever agenda is in place at the time.
No, my central point is that Riddick – as crafted by creators David Twohy, Jim Wheat, and Ken Wheat in 2000’s B-Movie opus Pitch Black – doesn’t quite resemble the same ex-convict who shows up in the vastly more complex and dynamic follow-up The Chronicles Of Riddick (2004). Oh, make no mistake that Diesel still looks the part, but somewhere between 2000 and 2004 the screenwriters got together – allegedly with the actor – and drew up a blueprint for an entire theatrical universe to revolve around this curious lead. Antiheroes – as great as they are – don’t typically have whole galaxies revolve around them; rather, they tend to exist in the places caught between the dark and the light. While they might inevitably do something heroic to serve the wider existence of mankind, I think they usually do so begrudgingly, in spite of what the cost might be to them personally. They don’t stumble into, say, godhood: they shrug it off because the emperor’s new clothes never fit.
If you haven’t figured it out by now, then let me state it this way: my biggest bone of contention with Chronicles is that its makers delivered a version of the character that defied the expectations of its already earned audience. Half of the movie felt right, and half of it felt like it was conceived and written for a different character. As a consequence, the box office went awry; and the promised follow-ups never materialized … or never materialized in the manner in which they were originally plotted. That’s my suspicion, at least, and I’m sticking with it.
(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 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 page citation:
“Richard Bruno Riddick, now a hunted man, finds himself in the middle of two opposing forces in a major crusade. Lord Marshal is a warrior priest who is the leader of a sect that is waging the tenth and perhaps final crusade five hundred years in the future. Aereon is an ambassador from the Elemental race. She is an ethereal being who helps Riddick unearth his origins.”
Succinctly, you probably couldn’t have two films in the same franchise be as fundamentally different as Pitch Black and The Chronicles Of Riddick.
The first one is a bare bones knuckle-brawler of a movie, one that operates entirely by putting streamlined players through functional premise: trapped on a distant world where creatures rule the darkness, good people have to rely on a very bad man for their salvation. As you can guess, the bad man is Riddick, a captured convict on the run, and he rather capably sets aside his own personal interests in order to guarantee his own freedom by helping these crash survivors escape. Granted, not every gets out alive, but you get the idea. Pitch Black had no more noble aspirations than to be an escape movie with Science Fiction, Fantasy, and Horror overtones; and it worked superbly on that level.
By comparison, The Chronicles Of Riddick feels more like it is intended to be an opening installment of Peter Jackson’s The Lord Of The Rings trilogy.
Yes, Riddick is back on-the-lam, and he capably escapes the bounty hunters on his tail with the kind of signature flourish one might expect of a screen antihero; but it’s the outside universe that’s grown incredibly more complex in the time since we first met the man who can see in darkness. An aggressive species – the Necromongers – have apparently set their sights on galactic conquest, and only a decades old prophecy involving our beloved criminal is standing in their way. Naturally, the Lord Marshal (Colm Feore) desires to have any and all obstacles removed from the path of his ascendency; and this development understandably puts these two screen titans on a collision course with destiny itself if the men and women of this galaxy far, far away are to even know true peace ever again.
Writer/Director Twohy bridges the gap between the films by bringing back a few creations from Pitch Black to help set the stage. Veteran character actor Keith David returns as Imam – a space Muslim whose duty it is to draw Riddick back into action and perhaps see him elevated to the status of galactic hero – and young Jack (now Kyra) comes back though recast as the excellent but underused Alexa Davalos. Their respective contributions to the plot are a bit formulaic – Imam’s death at the hands of the Necromongers is the catalyst to push the man from passive to active, and Jack/Kyra’s ultimate involvement gives our ex-con the chance to dabble in surrogate fatherhood and theatrical redemption – but it all hangs together somewhat capably while only hinting at something Twohy likely believed to be Tolkienesque, softly Shakespearean, or maybe even something resembling Frank Herbert’s Dune.
Therein lies part of the problem: Chronicles never quite becomes what I think it was meant to be.
The first one is a bare bones knuckle-brawler of a movie, one that operates entirely by putting streamlined players through functional premise: trapped on a distant world where creatures rule the darkness, good people have to rely on a very bad man for their salvation. As you can guess, the bad man is Riddick, a captured convict on the run, and he rather capably sets aside his own personal interests in order to guarantee his own freedom by helping these crash survivors escape. Granted, not every gets out alive, but you get the idea. Pitch Black had no more noble aspirations than to be an escape movie with Science Fiction, Fantasy, and Horror overtones; and it worked superbly on that level.
By comparison, The Chronicles Of Riddick feels more like it is intended to be an opening installment of Peter Jackson’s The Lord Of The Rings trilogy.
Yes, Riddick is back on-the-lam, and he capably escapes the bounty hunters on his tail with the kind of signature flourish one might expect of a screen antihero; but it’s the outside universe that’s grown incredibly more complex in the time since we first met the man who can see in darkness. An aggressive species – the Necromongers – have apparently set their sights on galactic conquest, and only a decades old prophecy involving our beloved criminal is standing in their way. Naturally, the Lord Marshal (Colm Feore) desires to have any and all obstacles removed from the path of his ascendency; and this development understandably puts these two screen titans on a collision course with destiny itself if the men and women of this galaxy far, far away are to even know true peace ever again.
Writer/Director Twohy bridges the gap between the films by bringing back a few creations from Pitch Black to help set the stage. Veteran character actor Keith David returns as Imam – a space Muslim whose duty it is to draw Riddick back into action and perhaps see him elevated to the status of galactic hero – and young Jack (now Kyra) comes back though recast as the excellent but underused Alexa Davalos. Their respective contributions to the plot are a bit formulaic – Imam’s death at the hands of the Necromongers is the catalyst to push the man from passive to active, and Jack/Kyra’s ultimate involvement gives our ex-con the chance to dabble in surrogate fatherhood and theatrical redemption – but it all hangs together somewhat capably while only hinting at something Twohy likely believed to be Tolkienesque, softly Shakespearean, or maybe even something resembling Frank Herbert’s Dune.
Therein lies part of the problem: Chronicles never quite becomes what I think it was meant to be.
The complexity of the fleshed-out universe is a more than a bit daunting, even more so when compared to the minimalism of Pitch Black. In it, people mattered – not entire races of people – and Chronicles never makes a believer out of me that Riddick would, in fact, behave in the way the script required him. There was a gruffness to him in the original – a man who’d only use words when he absolutely had to – and the sequel – while still light on dialogue – winds up being built around Riddick’s Schwarzenegger-esque quips and asides. They might be good lines here and there, but a two-hour opus revolving around galactic shenanigans feels out of step with reliance on such remarks. The moments of Riddick’s various flights from justice? They work. The scenes of interacting with governance? Well, not so much. It’s a failure … but a glorious one.
Also, Chronicles suffers from a good degree of logical failures, that dubious phenomenon of ‘overthinking the plumbing’ which plagues a good number of genre releases. (Some people call them plotholes, but I disagree.) As the Lord Marshal’s stated goal would be to – ahem – grow his following, why does he expend so much effort in wiping them out? If your sworn duty is to see your military ranks swell, then how are you accomplishing that by destroying whole worlds and the people who reside on them? And just what does this conversion process look like? Initially, it sounds like what Star Trek’s The Borg do in genetically coopting species for their own Collective, but here the survivors look, act, and speak no different (they get better clothes), except they’re allegedly in lockstep with the political elite (though we see dissenters here and there). So how’s that work exactly? We’re delivered scenes that initially suggest it’s a personal choice of the captured individual only then – seconds later – we see crucified captives being injected via assembly line with chemicals into their brains. Erm … which is it, Twohy? Why would ‘choice’ be required if captives are transformed medically? And what’s with this whole business of stealing souls? There’s a sequence wherein one conscientious objector goes toe-to-toe with the Lord Marshal only to see a ghost-like essence of himself viciously ripped out against his will. Hey, Lord Marshal, I thought you just said you needed these souls? What gives? Frankly, the ‘science’ here is all a bit confusing if not downright tiring.
Despite some really annoying visual trickery of slanted villain shots that were en vogue back in the day of TV’s Batman (1966-1968), Twohy’s feature has some wonderful production details. The Necromonger sets are incredibly stylish as the metal visage of their Lord Marshal shows up practically everywhere, and there’s an expansive to their ships and temples that breath a good deal of life into scenes that are otherwise played fairly flat. Stylistically, Twohy even manages to balance the two halves of the film – the gritty, subterranean underbelly of crime versus the dark, marble gloss of the ruling elite – giving each its relative uniqueness; and, yet I wonder if it was all meant as distractions from the fact that – for an action movie – the action’s just too predictable.
As for the performances? Well, that, too, is a bit of a mixed bag. Diesel capably handles the physicality required of his Riddick, but he needed a bit more edge for me to accept his bid for a heart of gold in keeping Jack/Kyra safe. In a few sequences, Twohy even shackles the actor with providing some voiceover narration, and it all seems horribly out-of-place and completely unnecessary. The renowned Dame Judi Dench classes up the joint here and there, playing something called an ‘Elemental’ that feels more like an idea hatched yet never completed. Occasionally, Feore is allowed to chew this elaborate scenery as the chief baddie – the guy really is one of Hollywood’s most underused talents – and actress Thandiwe Newton has never looked hungrily sexier than she does here as Dame Vaako, the wife of the ruler-in-waiting Vaako (Karl Urban). Sadly, the scenes of this couple in crisis have no true substance – we’ve never given evidence that they’re these private movers and shakers they contend to be – and they wind up as little more than stock adversaries when both Newton and Urban are capably of vastly more.
Also, Chronicles suffers from a good degree of logical failures, that dubious phenomenon of ‘overthinking the plumbing’ which plagues a good number of genre releases. (Some people call them plotholes, but I disagree.) As the Lord Marshal’s stated goal would be to – ahem – grow his following, why does he expend so much effort in wiping them out? If your sworn duty is to see your military ranks swell, then how are you accomplishing that by destroying whole worlds and the people who reside on them? And just what does this conversion process look like? Initially, it sounds like what Star Trek’s The Borg do in genetically coopting species for their own Collective, but here the survivors look, act, and speak no different (they get better clothes), except they’re allegedly in lockstep with the political elite (though we see dissenters here and there). So how’s that work exactly? We’re delivered scenes that initially suggest it’s a personal choice of the captured individual only then – seconds later – we see crucified captives being injected via assembly line with chemicals into their brains. Erm … which is it, Twohy? Why would ‘choice’ be required if captives are transformed medically? And what’s with this whole business of stealing souls? There’s a sequence wherein one conscientious objector goes toe-to-toe with the Lord Marshal only to see a ghost-like essence of himself viciously ripped out against his will. Hey, Lord Marshal, I thought you just said you needed these souls? What gives? Frankly, the ‘science’ here is all a bit confusing if not downright tiring.
Despite some really annoying visual trickery of slanted villain shots that were en vogue back in the day of TV’s Batman (1966-1968), Twohy’s feature has some wonderful production details. The Necromonger sets are incredibly stylish as the metal visage of their Lord Marshal shows up practically everywhere, and there’s an expansive to their ships and temples that breath a good deal of life into scenes that are otherwise played fairly flat. Stylistically, Twohy even manages to balance the two halves of the film – the gritty, subterranean underbelly of crime versus the dark, marble gloss of the ruling elite – giving each its relative uniqueness; and, yet I wonder if it was all meant as distractions from the fact that – for an action movie – the action’s just too predictable.
As for the performances? Well, that, too, is a bit of a mixed bag. Diesel capably handles the physicality required of his Riddick, but he needed a bit more edge for me to accept his bid for a heart of gold in keeping Jack/Kyra safe. In a few sequences, Twohy even shackles the actor with providing some voiceover narration, and it all seems horribly out-of-place and completely unnecessary. The renowned Dame Judi Dench classes up the joint here and there, playing something called an ‘Elemental’ that feels more like an idea hatched yet never completed. Occasionally, Feore is allowed to chew this elaborate scenery as the chief baddie – the guy really is one of Hollywood’s most underused talents – and actress Thandiwe Newton has never looked hungrily sexier than she does here as Dame Vaako, the wife of the ruler-in-waiting Vaako (Karl Urban). Sadly, the scenes of this couple in crisis have no true substance – we’ve never given evidence that they’re these private movers and shakers they contend to be – and they wind up as little more than stock adversaries when both Newton and Urban are capably of vastly more.
Sadly, Chronicles just never quite congeals into anything other than a unique attempt at crafting something bigger than life. All too often, its bits and pieces feel derivative of other motion pictures – David Lynch’s Dune (1984), Ridley Scott’s Blade Runner (1982), Paul Verhoeven’s Starship Troopers (1997), and even George Lucas’s Star Wars: Episode I – The Phantom Menace (1999) – but the characters of those worlds fit somewhat seamlessly together while Chronicles drift. It toys with religious themes, and it flirts with the Life/Death conundrum but never effectively defines what its mythical UnderVerse is, why it’s so appealing to some and not others, and why I – as the viewer – should really give a damn about any of it. Also, there’s no denying the fact that a character like Riddick would authentically be a danger to any supernaturally-powering superbeing in this universe except for some conveniently created prophecy. Talk about your delusions of grandeur!
Interestingly enough, Arrow Films recently released of The Chronicles Of Riddick contains both the theatrical cut and the director’s cut; and some of these shortcomings do get a bit more screen time in Twohy’s preferred incarnation of the story. Some of what was excised probably to get a more comfortable running time includes snippets of Riddick’s dream sequences wherein viewers are shown of his personal struggle with his past on the planet Furya. One vignette links his past to that of Lord Marshal; and, frankly, it probably should’ve been included in the theatrical cut if for no reason that it gives a stronger foundation to Riddick’s character in this film. Still, there’s another bit that (gasp!) pretty much gives the antihero superpower abilities; and that little extra really felt like it had no business being anywhere near this franchise whatsoever.
The Chronicles Of Riddick (2004) was produced by Universal Pictures, Radar Pictures, One Race Productions, and Primal Foe Productions. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at Arrow Films. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I found the provided sights-and-sounds to be pretty damn exceptional from start-to-finish: some Special Effects trickery might not hold up as well in today’s climate, but – for its time – Chronicles both looked and sounded pretty fine. As for the special features? Hoo boy! This is a three-disc set, so it comes fully loaded with a wealth of extras including commentaries, interviews, trailers, a documentary, and much, much more. It’s exactly the reason why Arrow Films continues to outshine the competition.
Recommended.
It’s rare for me to admit this, but The Chronicles Of Riddick (2004) has actually grown on me in the two decades since I first saw it on the silver screen and thereafter once or twice on home video. While I didn’t think much of its story back then, I’ve always – always – loved the richness of its visuals, even though a few sequences are a bit dated, looking more like a video game adaptation than actual cinematography. Though I stick by my complaints with how this wasn’t quite the Riddick audiences came to know and respect from Pitch Black (2000) nor quite wanted to see in a follow-up, creator Twohy clearly wanted to explore a more complex universe in this set-up for a mythology that never quite materializes. It was indeed grand … but perhaps not what audiences wanted from the character.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Arrow Films provided me with a complimentary 4K UltraHD Blu-ray copy of The Chronicles Of Riddick (2004) by request for the expressed purpose of creating this review. Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
Interestingly enough, Arrow Films recently released of The Chronicles Of Riddick contains both the theatrical cut and the director’s cut; and some of these shortcomings do get a bit more screen time in Twohy’s preferred incarnation of the story. Some of what was excised probably to get a more comfortable running time includes snippets of Riddick’s dream sequences wherein viewers are shown of his personal struggle with his past on the planet Furya. One vignette links his past to that of Lord Marshal; and, frankly, it probably should’ve been included in the theatrical cut if for no reason that it gives a stronger foundation to Riddick’s character in this film. Still, there’s another bit that (gasp!) pretty much gives the antihero superpower abilities; and that little extra really felt like it had no business being anywhere near this franchise whatsoever.
The Chronicles Of Riddick (2004) was produced by Universal Pictures, Radar Pictures, One Race Productions, and Primal Foe Productions. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at Arrow Films. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I found the provided sights-and-sounds to be pretty damn exceptional from start-to-finish: some Special Effects trickery might not hold up as well in today’s climate, but – for its time – Chronicles both looked and sounded pretty fine. As for the special features? Hoo boy! This is a three-disc set, so it comes fully loaded with a wealth of extras including commentaries, interviews, trailers, a documentary, and much, much more. It’s exactly the reason why Arrow Films continues to outshine the competition.
Recommended.
It’s rare for me to admit this, but The Chronicles Of Riddick (2004) has actually grown on me in the two decades since I first saw it on the silver screen and thereafter once or twice on home video. While I didn’t think much of its story back then, I’ve always – always – loved the richness of its visuals, even though a few sequences are a bit dated, looking more like a video game adaptation than actual cinematography. Though I stick by my complaints with how this wasn’t quite the Riddick audiences came to know and respect from Pitch Black (2000) nor quite wanted to see in a follow-up, creator Twohy clearly wanted to explore a more complex universe in this set-up for a mythology that never quite materializes. It was indeed grand … but perhaps not what audiences wanted from the character.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Arrow Films provided me with a complimentary 4K UltraHD Blu-ray copy of The Chronicles Of Riddick (2004) by request for the expressed purpose of creating this review. Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.
-- EZ
- Published on
Some celebrity deaths hurt more than others because some talents have touched us in ways too deep to sometimes put into words.
Of course, I'm of that mindset that believes every death diminishes us -- with some exceptions, honestly -- and I hate to be in the business of reporting and lightly commenting on these life and death issues. I never wish my words of praise or reflection to harm any reader; it's just that having grown to the age that I am and having to sit and watch as yet one more dynamic presence passes into whatever lies beyond can be a bit debilitating at times. No, I don't worship at the trough of Hollywood, and yet that doesn't mean I can't be moved by a loss like that of James Earl Jones.
For without Mr. Jones there would quite probably be no Star Wars. (Yes, I realize that's a pretty big statement.) His voice brought to life the Dark Lord of the Sith, Darth Vader, in ways that perhaps no other talent could have. For the record, Vader has been over and over again voted as one of the silver screens signature portrayals of evil; and this happens again and again despite the fact that his fall from grace is given a bit of redemption in the closing of Star Wars: Return Of The Jedi. While Jones may not have been physically on screen, his very words nonetheless moved all of us to care about the plight of Anakin Skywalker from start to finish.
Thankfully, the actor had quite a life beyond the galaxy far, far away even though that's likely what he'll be best remembered for. I remember first seeing him in a broadcast television airing of 1964's groundbreaking SciFi/Satire Dr. Strangelove Or: How I Learned To Stop Worrying And Love The Bomb. (For those of you who haven't seen it -- maybe it never quite interested you or you suspected it was high drama coming from Stanley Kubrick -- I encourage you to give it a spin. Jones' part isn't big, but it's a film that endures decades later.) I also remember catching him in 1975's The UFO Incident, a telefilm that explored the mystery of Betty and Barney Hill. I remember the time he suited up as another screen villain -- the mighty and mysterious Thulsa Doom -- aboard the wonderful 1982 theatrical adaptation of Conan The Barbarian. I remember him tugging at my heartstrings with his work in the exceptional Field Of Dreams (1989) playing an aging cultural rebel who just might land the writing gig of a lifetime. Lastly, I think I'll always remember him for his work in 1996's underrated A Family Thing where he plays a black man somewhat shocked to learn that he has a white and somewhat prejudiced long-lost brother (played by Robert Duvall).
There are so many great roles to know one actor from; and -- as I always do -- I encourage those of you who read these few words to seek out and explore some of the actor's catalogue. He was a master at his craft; and we don't get to see one of the greats so consistently turn in career-defining performances across multiple decades. His is a voice that'll stay with us forever, and I'm privileged to realize I've enjoyed what he did in so many features.
Our prayers are extended to the family, friends, and fans of James Earl Jones.
May he rest in peace.
-- EZ
Of course, I'm of that mindset that believes every death diminishes us -- with some exceptions, honestly -- and I hate to be in the business of reporting and lightly commenting on these life and death issues. I never wish my words of praise or reflection to harm any reader; it's just that having grown to the age that I am and having to sit and watch as yet one more dynamic presence passes into whatever lies beyond can be a bit debilitating at times. No, I don't worship at the trough of Hollywood, and yet that doesn't mean I can't be moved by a loss like that of James Earl Jones.
For without Mr. Jones there would quite probably be no Star Wars. (Yes, I realize that's a pretty big statement.) His voice brought to life the Dark Lord of the Sith, Darth Vader, in ways that perhaps no other talent could have. For the record, Vader has been over and over again voted as one of the silver screens signature portrayals of evil; and this happens again and again despite the fact that his fall from grace is given a bit of redemption in the closing of Star Wars: Return Of The Jedi. While Jones may not have been physically on screen, his very words nonetheless moved all of us to care about the plight of Anakin Skywalker from start to finish.
Thankfully, the actor had quite a life beyond the galaxy far, far away even though that's likely what he'll be best remembered for. I remember first seeing him in a broadcast television airing of 1964's groundbreaking SciFi/Satire Dr. Strangelove Or: How I Learned To Stop Worrying And Love The Bomb. (For those of you who haven't seen it -- maybe it never quite interested you or you suspected it was high drama coming from Stanley Kubrick -- I encourage you to give it a spin. Jones' part isn't big, but it's a film that endures decades later.) I also remember catching him in 1975's The UFO Incident, a telefilm that explored the mystery of Betty and Barney Hill. I remember the time he suited up as another screen villain -- the mighty and mysterious Thulsa Doom -- aboard the wonderful 1982 theatrical adaptation of Conan The Barbarian. I remember him tugging at my heartstrings with his work in the exceptional Field Of Dreams (1989) playing an aging cultural rebel who just might land the writing gig of a lifetime. Lastly, I think I'll always remember him for his work in 1996's underrated A Family Thing where he plays a black man somewhat shocked to learn that he has a white and somewhat prejudiced long-lost brother (played by Robert Duvall).
There are so many great roles to know one actor from; and -- as I always do -- I encourage those of you who read these few words to seek out and explore some of the actor's catalogue. He was a master at his craft; and we don't get to see one of the greats so consistently turn in career-defining performances across multiple decades. His is a voice that'll stay with us forever, and I'm privileged to realize I've enjoyed what he did in so many features.
Our prayers are extended to the family, friends, and fans of James Earl Jones.
May he rest in peace.
-- EZ
- Published on
In 1979, no one could hear you scream in space; and what that meant to a lot of people was that the first installment in the wider Alien franchise was released to the masses-at-large.
Directed by the critically acclaimed Ridley Scott from a script by Dan O’Bannon and Ronald Shusett, the cold and calculating space adventure was – in all honesty – nothing more than a monster movie set in the Final Frontier. The cast included such names as Sigourney Weaver, Tom Skerritt, Ian Holm, John Hurt, and Harry Dean Stanton, all playing blue-collar workers sequestered aboard a huge spacecraft – the Nostromo – who get pulled out of suspended animation when their ship’s sensors detect the signal from a downed vehicle in proximity. After inspection, the crew finds themselves back aboard with an aggressive and unstoppable extraterrestrial biological entity that will stop at nothing to see each of them dead.
Without getting too deep ‘into the weeds,’ I recall being a bit unimpressed with this original film. Its story – while well delivered – was a bit too formulaic for my tastes; and I never got enough information to fully understand just what this seminal alien – the Xenomorph – was, why it behaved the way it did, and what its goal might’ve been. Granted, some of these open-ended questions is why the production works as well as it does – the mythology laid was only a foundation that would somewhat radically be expanded upon almost a decade later in James Cameron’s Aliens (1986) – but I, for one, prefer tales have a bit more narrative closure beyond just Ripley’s big win in the last reel. I like having my questions answered, and I’ve always seen ambiguity as a curse of inferior writing. (Again, sorry, folks, but I’m just being honest.)
So as a ‘haunted house in space,’ Alien achieves probably everything it set out to do and a bit more: the project definitely paved the way for successive entries, and audiences have returned to the multiplexes to see what more was in store for the dark view of our creature-infested tomorrow, though I’m starting to wonder how far producers are willing to go with such diminishing returns. Aliens (1986) rather fabulously re-examined what we knew and took it in surprising directions by making the sequel more of a war movie. Huge box office receipts followed. Alien3 (1992) was, largely, dismissed by fandom as a missed opportunity; and many have purposefully forgotten the existence of Alien: Resurrection (1997). (FYI: I can’t say that I blame them.) Other entries have paired up the Xenomorphs alongside another 20th Century Fox property – the Predator – to even more tragic box office disasters, and that pretty much takes us to where we are today as Alien: Prometheus (2012) and Alien: Covenant (2017) tried to stake out new territory but mostly failed because (I think) there just wasn’t enough ‘alien’ in it, along with lackluster cast additions who tried to make the franchise more about them and less about the influential monster.
Directed by the critically acclaimed Ridley Scott from a script by Dan O’Bannon and Ronald Shusett, the cold and calculating space adventure was – in all honesty – nothing more than a monster movie set in the Final Frontier. The cast included such names as Sigourney Weaver, Tom Skerritt, Ian Holm, John Hurt, and Harry Dean Stanton, all playing blue-collar workers sequestered aboard a huge spacecraft – the Nostromo – who get pulled out of suspended animation when their ship’s sensors detect the signal from a downed vehicle in proximity. After inspection, the crew finds themselves back aboard with an aggressive and unstoppable extraterrestrial biological entity that will stop at nothing to see each of them dead.
Without getting too deep ‘into the weeds,’ I recall being a bit unimpressed with this original film. Its story – while well delivered – was a bit too formulaic for my tastes; and I never got enough information to fully understand just what this seminal alien – the Xenomorph – was, why it behaved the way it did, and what its goal might’ve been. Granted, some of these open-ended questions is why the production works as well as it does – the mythology laid was only a foundation that would somewhat radically be expanded upon almost a decade later in James Cameron’s Aliens (1986) – but I, for one, prefer tales have a bit more narrative closure beyond just Ripley’s big win in the last reel. I like having my questions answered, and I’ve always seen ambiguity as a curse of inferior writing. (Again, sorry, folks, but I’m just being honest.)
So as a ‘haunted house in space,’ Alien achieves probably everything it set out to do and a bit more: the project definitely paved the way for successive entries, and audiences have returned to the multiplexes to see what more was in store for the dark view of our creature-infested tomorrow, though I’m starting to wonder how far producers are willing to go with such diminishing returns. Aliens (1986) rather fabulously re-examined what we knew and took it in surprising directions by making the sequel more of a war movie. Huge box office receipts followed. Alien3 (1992) was, largely, dismissed by fandom as a missed opportunity; and many have purposefully forgotten the existence of Alien: Resurrection (1997). (FYI: I can’t say that I blame them.) Other entries have paired up the Xenomorphs alongside another 20th Century Fox property – the Predator – to even more tragic box office disasters, and that pretty much takes us to where we are today as Alien: Prometheus (2012) and Alien: Covenant (2017) tried to stake out new territory but mostly failed because (I think) there just wasn’t enough ‘alien’ in it, along with lackluster cast additions who tried to make the franchise more about them and less about the influential monster.
Now … I didn’t dislike Alien: Romulus (2024). As a visual thrill ride, the Fede Alvarez written and directed feature hums like a carnival attraction should, though I fear it never quite figured out what it wanted to be except for a carnival attraction. Even at that, it sacrifices what originality it brings to the intellectual property in favor of mustering up bits and pieces that the Alien universe has already done before. Its best moments are, sadly, derivative, and that doesn’t bode well for giving this space saga the legs it needs to march headlong into its fifth decade in existence. In fact, in many ways I thought Romulus felt like a significant lurch backward to where it all started … and I couldn’t help but wonder why.
(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 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 page citation:
“While scavenging the deep ends of a derelict space station, a group of young space colonists come face to face with the most terrifying life form in the universe.”
It’s been said that every now and then a saga needs to reinvent itself in order to bring in an all-new generation of fans to sustain it for the next decade or so.
I suppose such a reality is, mostly, accurate. Star Trek: The Next Generation – while being a descendant of the Gene Roddenberry original Star Trek – is probably the entertainment industry’s preferred example. In the process of stepping boldly into the future with a new ship and a new crew, TNG’s writers and producers were able to distance themselves somewhat from the days of cowboy diplomacy Kirk and company demonstrated by having Captain Jean-Luc Picard and friends picking up the mantle of managing outer space. Phasers were more often set for stun, and it seemed as if every episode sacrificed doing something in favor of talking about precisely what to do in committee. While I’m not sure it always worked as well as it could have, the show still rather effectively painted a picture of how progress in this next generation was the result of many hands working in unison as opposed to one captain dragging society kicking and screaming into the proper, moral course of action.
(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 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 page citation:
“While scavenging the deep ends of a derelict space station, a group of young space colonists come face to face with the most terrifying life form in the universe.”
It’s been said that every now and then a saga needs to reinvent itself in order to bring in an all-new generation of fans to sustain it for the next decade or so.
I suppose such a reality is, mostly, accurate. Star Trek: The Next Generation – while being a descendant of the Gene Roddenberry original Star Trek – is probably the entertainment industry’s preferred example. In the process of stepping boldly into the future with a new ship and a new crew, TNG’s writers and producers were able to distance themselves somewhat from the days of cowboy diplomacy Kirk and company demonstrated by having Captain Jean-Luc Picard and friends picking up the mantle of managing outer space. Phasers were more often set for stun, and it seemed as if every episode sacrificed doing something in favor of talking about precisely what to do in committee. While I’m not sure it always worked as well as it could have, the show still rather effectively painted a picture of how progress in this next generation was the result of many hands working in unison as opposed to one captain dragging society kicking and screaming into the proper, moral course of action.
But the Alien franchise has never really been one to structure its stories around morality tales. Yes, the universe has a discernable sense of right-and-wrong – in fact, most of the wrongs are committed by the evil capitalists exploiting the various worlds of the galaxy on behalf of the Weyland-Yutani Corporation – and yet its existence in the films really only serves the purpose of giving our heroes a chance to hate their fellow man as much as they fear the Xenomorphs. Audiences never get a ‘deep dive’ into the company or any of the possible good deeds it may’ve done, so Weyland-Yutani becomes this faceless villain who – like the aliens – are present only to make life infinitely more dangerous. Because of this, I just don’t expend a lot of thought on it. It’s the usual Hollywood hypocrisy: hate capitalism at all costs … but buy our stuff.
Indeed, Alvarez opens his journey with yet one more example of the Weyland Corporation’s malfeasance, showing us a world where men and women are essentially enslaved to the whims and wishes of the company’s dirtiest business. Just about the time that Rain Carradine (played by Cailee Spaeny) thinks she’s fulfilled her employment contract and can request a transfer off world, she learns that her hourly requirements was instantly doubled because workers are in short supply owed to such inconveniences as fatigue, disease, and death. With no means to appeal the decision, the lady fears that she, too, will wind up eventually in a grave site on the distant planet.
However, this is generally the point wherein a good scriptwriter inserts an event that poses a cause for hope as well as the catalyst for the real story to unfold: lo and behold, Rain’s friends recently stumbled across the signal for what they believe is a derelict spacecraft floating high above the planet LV-410. As they suspect it to be a decommissioned Weyland ship, Tyler (Archie Renaux) insists it’ll have cryostasis tubes that they can steal and use to abandon this world in favor of an outpost on the distant Yvaga. In order to enter this seemingly quarantined craft, they need the assistance of Andy (David Jonsson), Rain’s synthetic ‘brother’ whose innate company programming will allow them to unseal all automated locks.
It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that – you guessed it – this allegedly empty space vehicle is going to be far from empty. What this young and inexperienced crew discovers is that this floating space laboratory was previously engaged in reengineering the original Xenomorph that Ripley herself blew out her shuttlecraft’s airlock in the conclusion of 1979’s Alien. (I know, I know, I know. You thought that monster was dead because that film showed it kinda/sorta burning up when the engines fired, and here we are anyway. Don’t blame me: I just review here.) To make matters worse, these now deceased scientists had somehow reengineered those dreaded facehuggers (the precursors to the Xenomorphs) and were storing them cryogenically; and Andy’s restarting the ship’s systems ends up thawing them out. So, Hell is about to rain down on Rain and her friends, and that’s basically what follows.
Indeed, Alvarez opens his journey with yet one more example of the Weyland Corporation’s malfeasance, showing us a world where men and women are essentially enslaved to the whims and wishes of the company’s dirtiest business. Just about the time that Rain Carradine (played by Cailee Spaeny) thinks she’s fulfilled her employment contract and can request a transfer off world, she learns that her hourly requirements was instantly doubled because workers are in short supply owed to such inconveniences as fatigue, disease, and death. With no means to appeal the decision, the lady fears that she, too, will wind up eventually in a grave site on the distant planet.
However, this is generally the point wherein a good scriptwriter inserts an event that poses a cause for hope as well as the catalyst for the real story to unfold: lo and behold, Rain’s friends recently stumbled across the signal for what they believe is a derelict spacecraft floating high above the planet LV-410. As they suspect it to be a decommissioned Weyland ship, Tyler (Archie Renaux) insists it’ll have cryostasis tubes that they can steal and use to abandon this world in favor of an outpost on the distant Yvaga. In order to enter this seemingly quarantined craft, they need the assistance of Andy (David Jonsson), Rain’s synthetic ‘brother’ whose innate company programming will allow them to unseal all automated locks.
It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that – you guessed it – this allegedly empty space vehicle is going to be far from empty. What this young and inexperienced crew discovers is that this floating space laboratory was previously engaged in reengineering the original Xenomorph that Ripley herself blew out her shuttlecraft’s airlock in the conclusion of 1979’s Alien. (I know, I know, I know. You thought that monster was dead because that film showed it kinda/sorta burning up when the engines fired, and here we are anyway. Don’t blame me: I just review here.) To make matters worse, these now deceased scientists had somehow reengineered those dreaded facehuggers (the precursors to the Xenomorphs) and were storing them cryogenically; and Andy’s restarting the ship’s systems ends up thawing them out. So, Hell is about to rain down on Rain and her friends, and that’s basically what follows.
Alvarez structures his film as this big race-against-time, in no way unlike how director Ridley Scott delivered the last reel of the franchise’s first outing. There, Ripley was engaged in a run against the countdown of the Nostromo’s self-destruct sequence; Romulus gives its young crew much more time to work with, but, yes, it’s still the same formula. In Aliens, director Cameron fashioned his last act mostly around Ripley’s journey both into and out of the Alien Queen’s lair; and, likewise, Alvarez has Rain and Andy needing to get in and out of a similar hive with their lives and limbs intact in the build-up to the final reel. While I wished that the parallels stopped there, the sad, sad truth is that far too much of Romulus has been seen before; the fact that its writer/director even felt it necessary to pick up lines of dialogue from previous entries and use them as callbacks here questions whom he thought he was trying to fool.
To a degree, I’ve no problem with such throwbacks. Some of the practical sets of Romulus resemble a good deal of what was pictured in Alien and Aliens, and the resulting nostalgia works occasionally. In some ways, it’s comforting to be reminded of where and when we are. This being one big cinematic destination, it’s perfectly natural and acceptable to find that some likenesses might exist despite the significant passage of time. Think of it like coming home: you know what you’re going to get once you arrive, and that’s foundationally why you’re going in the first place. Finally, it’s nice when mom tries to cook something new because not every meatloaf tastes the same, but Alvarez can’t seem to help himself. These retrogressions start to get in the way of his film’s forward progress, and I don’t think he even stopped to notice he was smothering his own ingenuity.
There’s no denying – at least, not to this SciFi fan – that Romulus looks wonderful.
While there are some sequences shot with far too much darkness and perhaps a bit too much energy, the end product still works viscerally with sequences that raise tension and perhaps get the audience’s hearts pumping as fast as that of the doomed crew. Though I could be wrong, I think all of these sets were practically built – if not, then color me surprised – and it’s damned refreshing to see that the skilled technicians in a major studio can still churn out real rooms despite the industry’s desire to see everything rendered via CGI. In fact, the only thing that’s rather obviously and embarrassingly fake in all of it is the appearance of deceased actor Ian Holm (formerly the synthetic Ash in 1979’s Alien) playing the synthetic Rook here. Sorry, folks, but while the idea might’ve been good on the drawing board, the final execution here is so God awful and pasty it might bring about the end to this whole campaign of ‘bringing back the dead digitally’ on celluloid.
To a degree, I’ve no problem with such throwbacks. Some of the practical sets of Romulus resemble a good deal of what was pictured in Alien and Aliens, and the resulting nostalgia works occasionally. In some ways, it’s comforting to be reminded of where and when we are. This being one big cinematic destination, it’s perfectly natural and acceptable to find that some likenesses might exist despite the significant passage of time. Think of it like coming home: you know what you’re going to get once you arrive, and that’s foundationally why you’re going in the first place. Finally, it’s nice when mom tries to cook something new because not every meatloaf tastes the same, but Alvarez can’t seem to help himself. These retrogressions start to get in the way of his film’s forward progress, and I don’t think he even stopped to notice he was smothering his own ingenuity.
There’s no denying – at least, not to this SciFi fan – that Romulus looks wonderful.
While there are some sequences shot with far too much darkness and perhaps a bit too much energy, the end product still works viscerally with sequences that raise tension and perhaps get the audience’s hearts pumping as fast as that of the doomed crew. Though I could be wrong, I think all of these sets were practically built – if not, then color me surprised – and it’s damned refreshing to see that the skilled technicians in a major studio can still churn out real rooms despite the industry’s desire to see everything rendered via CGI. In fact, the only thing that’s rather obviously and embarrassingly fake in all of it is the appearance of deceased actor Ian Holm (formerly the synthetic Ash in 1979’s Alien) playing the synthetic Rook here. Sorry, folks, but while the idea might’ve been good on the drawing board, the final execution here is so God awful and pasty it might bring about the end to this whole campaign of ‘bringing back the dead digitally’ on celluloid.
Ultimately, where I struggle with an adventure like Romulus is that I kept asking who is this product for? With so many obvious recalls to vastly superior films, was it intended to convince old fans – such as myself – that there’s still acid blood flowing in them there veins? As the other flicks focused on – ahem – more learned actors and actresses (meaning older), was Romulus meant to introduce only certain bits and pieces of the wider franchise to a new audience? It never feels quite original – certainly not in any way that Alien or Aliens did – but was that Alvarez’s core intent? Did he think it would rise above the noise of lesser entries and maybe reestablish the franchise with the prominence it once had? If so … then how? How would that happen by being so obviously copied?
Alien: Romulus (2024) was produced by 20th Century Studios, Scott Free Productions, Brandywine Productions, Quebec Production Services Tax Credit, New Zealand Film Commission, and a few other partners. (A full accounting can be found on IMDB.com.) The film is presently available theatrically in countries around the world. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I found the vast majority of the sights-and-sounds to be exceptional: there are some sub-par Special Effects in the second half – along with a wealth of action shot in extreme dark – that could’ve been better, but it is what it is at this point. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? There were no special features under consideration.
Alas … only Mildly Recommended.
As a one-off experience, I can’t help but think that Alvarez and his talented cast and crew might’ve been better served by taking almost everything in Alien: Romulus and morphing it into an entirely original story. Remove any and all of the associations back to the 20th Century Fox franchise and, instead, march out in some bold, new direction. In that universe, this story serves no purpose. We’ve seen it. We’ve been here. We’ve done that. Occasionally, it feels like it might’ve had the legs to do that – to go on its own road – and maybe even been something interesting if not entirely special. This young crew, their hip vibe, and their young problems just didn’t quite work the way those working-class men and women of past Alien films did; and wasting the Xenomorphs on the trials and tribulations of the 90210 club seems beneath the dignity of an IP that deserved better than what gets delivered. Again … didn’t hate it … but I’ve no reason to ever rewatch it. Ever.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that I’m beholden to no one for my review of Alien: Romulus (2024) as I went to the theater to see it on my own dime.
-- EZ
Alien: Romulus (2024) was produced by 20th Century Studios, Scott Free Productions, Brandywine Productions, Quebec Production Services Tax Credit, New Zealand Film Commission, and a few other partners. (A full accounting can be found on IMDB.com.) The film is presently available theatrically in countries around the world. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I found the vast majority of the sights-and-sounds to be exceptional: there are some sub-par Special Effects in the second half – along with a wealth of action shot in extreme dark – that could’ve been better, but it is what it is at this point. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? There were no special features under consideration.
Alas … only Mildly Recommended.
As a one-off experience, I can’t help but think that Alvarez and his talented cast and crew might’ve been better served by taking almost everything in Alien: Romulus and morphing it into an entirely original story. Remove any and all of the associations back to the 20th Century Fox franchise and, instead, march out in some bold, new direction. In that universe, this story serves no purpose. We’ve seen it. We’ve been here. We’ve done that. Occasionally, it feels like it might’ve had the legs to do that – to go on its own road – and maybe even been something interesting if not entirely special. This young crew, their hip vibe, and their young problems just didn’t quite work the way those working-class men and women of past Alien films did; and wasting the Xenomorphs on the trials and tribulations of the 90210 club seems beneath the dignity of an IP that deserved better than what gets delivered. Again … didn’t hate it … but I’ve no reason to ever rewatch it. Ever.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that I’m beholden to no one for my review of Alien: Romulus (2024) as I went to the theater to see it on my own dime.
-- EZ
- Published on
When I show up in this space to celebrate a film's anniversary, I do try -- whenever possible -- to add anything critical to the commentary.
Now, this doesn't mean I won't be 'negative.' By the use of 'critical,' I mean that I try to avoid critiquing any film this way because I do try and save those thoughts for longer, more reflective pieces. My hope in celebrating these little anniversaries is really to just shine a bit of light on genre film history, so if I make a disparaging or complimentary observation or two just take it all with a grain of salt.
That said, I don't think the 1976 version of King Kong was a bad film; I just think it's one of those flicks that gets brushed over mostly because it feels a bit too dated for its age. Essentially, it fairly respectfully retells the Kong legend -- remaining extremely similar to the 1933 -- but brings it into the mid 1970's both in look and overall visual quality. Hell, even it's theatrical one-sheet poster above looks and feels like something that can out of that era; while I'm certainly no expert on artistic styles, I know what I see ... and that looks like it was crafted in the mid 1970's.
Now, this doesn't mean I won't be 'negative.' By the use of 'critical,' I mean that I try to avoid critiquing any film this way because I do try and save those thoughts for longer, more reflective pieces. My hope in celebrating these little anniversaries is really to just shine a bit of light on genre film history, so if I make a disparaging or complimentary observation or two just take it all with a grain of salt.
That said, I don't think the 1976 version of King Kong was a bad film; I just think it's one of those flicks that gets brushed over mostly because it feels a bit too dated for its age. Essentially, it fairly respectfully retells the Kong legend -- remaining extremely similar to the 1933 -- but brings it into the mid 1970's both in look and overall visual quality. Hell, even it's theatrical one-sheet poster above looks and feels like something that can out of that era; while I'm certainly no expert on artistic styles, I know what I see ... and that looks like it was crafted in the mid 1970's.
Kong is a flick that I vividly remember seeing on screens of the day, and I do recall my young self being reasonably smitten with it. It was the kind of thing that a little genre junkie like myself could and would sit through more than once (in my small town, that was fairly common for us kiddies and kiddos), and I do specifically remember being emotionally torn with the big ape's final scene. Alas, it shouldn't have happened that way, but this is what happens when mankind gets afraid at beasts: they kill them, and thus Kong came to his end.
The big screen update shows directed by John Guillermin, a director whose reputation has taken some sizable hits over the years from some pretty big names. Allegedly, he was not an easy person to work with, but I'm only passing on that impression based on things I've both read and heard, and we all know that memories can be a bit fuzzy with the passage of time. The production did bring some heavyweight names to the forefront, casting such talent as Jeff Bridges, Charles Grodin, Jessica Lange, Star Trek's Rene Auberjonois, and John Randolph in significant roles. Here's the plot summary as provided by IMDB.com:
"When a research ship is sent to explore an island thought to be rich in oil, paleontologist Jack Prescott sneaks aboard, having heard strange rumors about the island. En route, the crew rescues Dwan, the sole survivor of a shipwreck. When they arrive, they find native people living in fear of a monster called Kong. The natives kidnap Dwan and sacrifice her to what turns out to be an enormous ape. Dwan is eventually rescued, and the ape captured for a gala exhibit."
The big screen update shows directed by John Guillermin, a director whose reputation has taken some sizable hits over the years from some pretty big names. Allegedly, he was not an easy person to work with, but I'm only passing on that impression based on things I've both read and heard, and we all know that memories can be a bit fuzzy with the passage of time. The production did bring some heavyweight names to the forefront, casting such talent as Jeff Bridges, Charles Grodin, Jessica Lange, Star Trek's Rene Auberjonois, and John Randolph in significant roles. Here's the plot summary as provided by IMDB.com:
"When a research ship is sent to explore an island thought to be rich in oil, paleontologist Jack Prescott sneaks aboard, having heard strange rumors about the island. En route, the crew rescues Dwan, the sole survivor of a shipwreck. When they arrive, they find native people living in fear of a monster called Kong. The natives kidnap Dwan and sacrifice her to what turns out to be an enormous ape. Dwan is eventually rescued, and the ape captured for a gala exhibit."
If I remember correctly, I believe this version had a pretty big home video re-release earlier this year (in 2024), so maybe it's due for a rewatch by yours truly. I probably haven't seen it in years -- mostly because I'm such a fan of the original Kong -- and maybe I'll hunt it out for posterity's sake and offer up some currently thoughts on the entire production.
Still, Happy anniversary, Mr. Kong. The 70's brought you back to life -- started a small trend of giant-ape movies even -- and that's certainly never a disappointment for fandom.
-- EZ
Still, Happy anniversary, Mr. Kong. The 70's brought you back to life -- started a small trend of giant-ape movies even -- and that's certainly never a disappointment for fandom.
-- EZ