- Published on
Because I can, I spend a reasonable amount of cyber-ink talking about films beyond the usual Science Fiction, Fantasy, and Horror.
Simply put, that’s the beauty of running my own shop. While I spend clearly the lion’s share of my time amping up the Daily Citation Pages, penning columns about the nature of fandom and its films, and reviewing a great share of flicks associated with the realms of the Fantastic, I – like so many of you – prefer having a bit of variety in my entertainment diet. As such, I’ll venture outside those lines into occasional critiques of Thrillers, Westerns, Film-Noir and Neo-Noir, and more. It’s good to do not only because it widens my perspective but also because it challenges me to remain fresh in the ways I evaluate storytelling. Not everything need have a droid, you know, and I’m glad you’re all still sharing this wild ride with me.
Today’s delight: an early 1970’s Crime Thriller titled The Mad Bomber.
“Why?” you ask.
Now, a good number of you regulars will likely recognize the name of Bert I. Gordon, aka Mr B.I.G. This uniquely talented screenwriter, director, and producer truly got his start in the early days of Science Fiction and Fantasy, perhaps even putting his stamp on 1950’s genre moviemaking that helped push doors open for so many more. As a writer, he crafted such yarns as King Dinosaur (1955), Beginning Of The End (1957), The Cyclops (1957), The Amazing Colossal Man (1957), War Of The Colossal Beast (1958), Attack Of The Puppet People (1958), The Spider (1958), and Village Of The Giants (1965). Somewhere along the way, he turned his sights toward directing and producing as well, continuing to mine territory that stayed reasonably close to such genre visions … and, yet, he still found time to explore something markedly different with Bomber.
As you can imagine, this piqued my interest, and I had to see it.
I’m glad I did. While I’d argue it both is and isn’t something one might recognize in Gordon’s catalogue of efforts, what struck me most is the fact that it’s just so damn good. No, it isn’t great. It isn’t astonishing. It broke no barriers, certainly not like the auteur is regarded with SciFi, Fantasy, and Horror. But as arguably his only legitimate work outside what he did so well, Bomber succeeds as much as it kinda/sorta stumbles with a smidge of predictability and scene chewing by some of best from the bygone era.
Simply put, that’s the beauty of running my own shop. While I spend clearly the lion’s share of my time amping up the Daily Citation Pages, penning columns about the nature of fandom and its films, and reviewing a great share of flicks associated with the realms of the Fantastic, I – like so many of you – prefer having a bit of variety in my entertainment diet. As such, I’ll venture outside those lines into occasional critiques of Thrillers, Westerns, Film-Noir and Neo-Noir, and more. It’s good to do not only because it widens my perspective but also because it challenges me to remain fresh in the ways I evaluate storytelling. Not everything need have a droid, you know, and I’m glad you’re all still sharing this wild ride with me.
Today’s delight: an early 1970’s Crime Thriller titled The Mad Bomber.
“Why?” you ask.
- Because I can.
- Because this nifty little procedural sprang from the imagination of one Bert I. Gordon.
Now, a good number of you regulars will likely recognize the name of Bert I. Gordon, aka Mr B.I.G. This uniquely talented screenwriter, director, and producer truly got his start in the early days of Science Fiction and Fantasy, perhaps even putting his stamp on 1950’s genre moviemaking that helped push doors open for so many more. As a writer, he crafted such yarns as King Dinosaur (1955), Beginning Of The End (1957), The Cyclops (1957), The Amazing Colossal Man (1957), War Of The Colossal Beast (1958), Attack Of The Puppet People (1958), The Spider (1958), and Village Of The Giants (1965). Somewhere along the way, he turned his sights toward directing and producing as well, continuing to mine territory that stayed reasonably close to such genre visions … and, yet, he still found time to explore something markedly different with Bomber.
As you can imagine, this piqued my interest, and I had to see it.
I’m glad I did. While I’d argue it both is and isn’t something one might recognize in Gordon’s catalogue of efforts, what struck me most is the fact that it’s just so damn good. No, it isn’t great. It isn’t astonishing. It broke no barriers, certainly not like the auteur is regarded with SciFi, Fantasy, and Horror. But as arguably his only legitimate work outside what he did so well, Bomber succeeds as much as it kinda/sorta stumbles with a smidge of predictability and scene chewing by some of best from the bygone era.
(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:
“Los Angeles detectives Minelli and Blake must track down a serial rapist who may know the identity of a mentally disturbed bomber.”
For those unaware, the decade of the 1970’s produced some of the very best crime thrillers to have graced the silver screen ever. From what I’ve read, scholars attribute this trend to the fact that a whole new breed of filmmaker had entered the scene; and such events as political assassinations, the Vietnam conflict, and social distrust of long-established institutions brought an increasing reliance on realism and authenticity to these newfound points of view. This era of storytellers largely set aside the good versus evil mentality that had persisted for so long in filmdom; and, instead, they embraced the complexities of having good guys with bad attitudes – and vice versa – providing a layer of richness to characters that had been so easily delineated previously.
For these reasons, it’s easy to see a character like Police Lieutenant Geronimo Minelli (played by Vince Edwards) and see a somewhat watered-down version of Clint Eastwood’s Dirty Harry (1971) – the screen’s seminal cop as anti-hero – who had just lit up imaginations only a few years early. Like Harry, Minelli both tries to respect the wishes of authority while giving himself enough room to push back with methods that have proven effective time-and-time-again on the streets out in the real world. Though his unorthodox and violent ways might always catch the ire of his partner Blake (Hank Brandt) or his precinct captain, there’s no denying that Minelli knows how that crack a suspect … in many more ways than one!
So when mad bomber William Dorn (Chuck Connors) starts his one-man war against society with the bombing of an area high school, the police are put on high alert. The problem is that the best criminal psychologists insist that these lunatics don’t have established behavior patterns that make them susceptible to being accurately profiled; and this leaves Minelli and Blake with few options with which to round up the usual suspects. But when Dorn is accidentally witnessed setting his next explosive in an area hospital by closeted rapist George Fromley (Neville Brand), the cops realize that if they can find their elusive criminal if they can first catch the predator, a tactic that puts them at odds with their higher ups. Eventually, City Hall agrees, narrowing the distance between the hunters and the hunted considerably.
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“Los Angeles detectives Minelli and Blake must track down a serial rapist who may know the identity of a mentally disturbed bomber.”
For those unaware, the decade of the 1970’s produced some of the very best crime thrillers to have graced the silver screen ever. From what I’ve read, scholars attribute this trend to the fact that a whole new breed of filmmaker had entered the scene; and such events as political assassinations, the Vietnam conflict, and social distrust of long-established institutions brought an increasing reliance on realism and authenticity to these newfound points of view. This era of storytellers largely set aside the good versus evil mentality that had persisted for so long in filmdom; and, instead, they embraced the complexities of having good guys with bad attitudes – and vice versa – providing a layer of richness to characters that had been so easily delineated previously.
For these reasons, it’s easy to see a character like Police Lieutenant Geronimo Minelli (played by Vince Edwards) and see a somewhat watered-down version of Clint Eastwood’s Dirty Harry (1971) – the screen’s seminal cop as anti-hero – who had just lit up imaginations only a few years early. Like Harry, Minelli both tries to respect the wishes of authority while giving himself enough room to push back with methods that have proven effective time-and-time-again on the streets out in the real world. Though his unorthodox and violent ways might always catch the ire of his partner Blake (Hank Brandt) or his precinct captain, there’s no denying that Minelli knows how that crack a suspect … in many more ways than one!
So when mad bomber William Dorn (Chuck Connors) starts his one-man war against society with the bombing of an area high school, the police are put on high alert. The problem is that the best criminal psychologists insist that these lunatics don’t have established behavior patterns that make them susceptible to being accurately profiled; and this leaves Minelli and Blake with few options with which to round up the usual suspects. But when Dorn is accidentally witnessed setting his next explosive in an area hospital by closeted rapist George Fromley (Neville Brand), the cops realize that if they can find their elusive criminal if they can first catch the predator, a tactic that puts them at odds with their higher ups. Eventually, City Hall agrees, narrowing the distance between the hunters and the hunted considerably.
As a police procedural, Bomber works. Though Gordon might be guilty of glorifying the kinds of resources available to police officers back in the day (it is a movie, after all), there’s an understandable progression between gathering of clues, clarifying what is and isn’t proper evidence, and even concocting their scheme to use one criminal against the other in the mad dash to bring Dorn’s reign of terror to an end. There are even some great little character moments for both Connors and Brand respectively to show how their minds process the world around them, giving hints to the psychosis that fuels the sexual attacker and the aggrieved individual who wants to turn buildings into rubble. Neither actor gets short-changed in the script, though some in the audience might suggest that Brand’s Fromley feels a bit more of a cinematic creation than he does a violator of women. It’s a bit exploitative, yes, but I thought it worked just fine.
Where I struggled a bit with the story as designed is with Edwards’ work. His high-strung and borderline bombastic speeches come off a bit too much like those also delivered by the criminally minded. (Connors gets a few fabulous scenes telling off society’s bullies, and they’re high points to the flick.) Knowing that Bomber also enjoyed distribution at some point under the alternate title of Confessions Of A Dirty Cop suggests that perhaps this is what Gordon intended all along – that this script featured a holy trinity of sorts of baddies with the only distinction between the lieutenant was the fact that he carried a badge. Certainly, Minelli doesn’t simmer onscreen – not anywhere in the same fashion that Eastwood did as Detective Harry Callahan – so I’m generally inclined to imagine that his cop likely bent a few more rules than Harry ever did. Minelli could’ve dialed back the anger just a bit, and nothing would’ve been lost in this equation; to me, that suggests a bit of overacting, but what do I know?
Gordon also rather deftly employs visuals to suggest both causality and linkages between good and less-than-stellar behavior throughout Bomber. He peppers Connors’ reflections with images of his wife and daughter, never quite nailing down those particulars until later in the action, an effect which does keep one guessing until that point. Additionally, Minelli’s – ahem – unlawful search of Fromley’s mancave (well before mancaves were in style) gives another fantastic suggestion of just how off the deep-end Georgie-boy may’ve dipped, splashing poster-sized pornographic prints of his lovely wife (Ilona Wilson) in Playmate poses increasingly more risqué than the last. Was she a lesser spouse for having succumbed to and participated an exploration of his appetites, or could her displays have stimulated a more depraved mind? Only you can decide … but it’s pretty clear that Minelli didn’t exactly approve.
For these reasons, The Mad Bomber both is and isn’t a paradigm shifting procedural like so many of the others that emerged from the 1970’s; but it’s clearly drawn up from the same narrative stock. It is and both isn’t a typical effort in the interesting catalogue of Mr. B.I.G.’s works. It also both is and isn’t emblematic of exploitation fare that was continuing to give drive-in theaters some of the more compelling schlock from that era. Still, it’s this elusiveness to be any one thing that makes it quite possibly one of the writer’s, director’s, and producer’s most worthwhile additions to all of cinema; and that’s definitely saying something if not something special.
Where I struggled a bit with the story as designed is with Edwards’ work. His high-strung and borderline bombastic speeches come off a bit too much like those also delivered by the criminally minded. (Connors gets a few fabulous scenes telling off society’s bullies, and they’re high points to the flick.) Knowing that Bomber also enjoyed distribution at some point under the alternate title of Confessions Of A Dirty Cop suggests that perhaps this is what Gordon intended all along – that this script featured a holy trinity of sorts of baddies with the only distinction between the lieutenant was the fact that he carried a badge. Certainly, Minelli doesn’t simmer onscreen – not anywhere in the same fashion that Eastwood did as Detective Harry Callahan – so I’m generally inclined to imagine that his cop likely bent a few more rules than Harry ever did. Minelli could’ve dialed back the anger just a bit, and nothing would’ve been lost in this equation; to me, that suggests a bit of overacting, but what do I know?
Gordon also rather deftly employs visuals to suggest both causality and linkages between good and less-than-stellar behavior throughout Bomber. He peppers Connors’ reflections with images of his wife and daughter, never quite nailing down those particulars until later in the action, an effect which does keep one guessing until that point. Additionally, Minelli’s – ahem – unlawful search of Fromley’s mancave (well before mancaves were in style) gives another fantastic suggestion of just how off the deep-end Georgie-boy may’ve dipped, splashing poster-sized pornographic prints of his lovely wife (Ilona Wilson) in Playmate poses increasingly more risqué than the last. Was she a lesser spouse for having succumbed to and participated an exploration of his appetites, or could her displays have stimulated a more depraved mind? Only you can decide … but it’s pretty clear that Minelli didn’t exactly approve.
For these reasons, The Mad Bomber both is and isn’t a paradigm shifting procedural like so many of the others that emerged from the 1970’s; but it’s clearly drawn up from the same narrative stock. It is and both isn’t a typical effort in the interesting catalogue of Mr. B.I.G.’s works. It also both is and isn’t emblematic of exploitation fare that was continuing to give drive-in theaters some of the more compelling schlock from that era. Still, it’s this elusiveness to be any one thing that makes it quite possibly one of the writer’s, director’s, and producer’s most worthwhile additions to all of cinema; and that’s definitely saying something if not something special.
The Mad Bomber (aka The Police Connection) (aka Confessions Of A Dirty Cop) (1973) was produced by College Productions. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at Severin Films. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, this brand new 4K scan from the internegative looks pretty solid from start-to-finish: given its age, there’s a bit of grain that has worked in in places, but it’s really in great shape, all things considered. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? There are a few interviews and some of the usual whatnot – including an audio interview with director Gordon that’s plastered like a commentary track for those interested – but what I found amazingly refreshing was the audio commentary from author Kier-La Janisse and retired bomb squad detective Mike Digby. Mind you: I didn’t quite learn as much about the production itself as other commentaries, but the two manage to give this one a spectacular examination from so many different angles it truly keeps drawing listeners in. Though it might not be for everyone, I thought it was a pure winner … a rarity especially considering this isn’t exactly a well-known picture by any estimation.
Recommended.
In all honesty, The Mad Bomber (1973) surprised me, turning out to be a very well-crafted Crime Thriller regardless of emerging from the mind of Science Fiction and Fantasy (schlock) auteur Bert I. Gordon. Now, don’t misunderstand me: it certainly isn’t anywhere near the peak of 1970’s crime stories – of which there are plenty of authentic Classics – but even a few decades later it’s still an exceedingly watchable and relevant production. Though it dabbles heavily in B-Movie sensibilities as well, Bomber pushes forward with a lean efficiency – much like the ticking down of a timebomb – only stopping here and there to exploit the dark habits of its twin villains whose paths crossed and intertwined in spite of their differences.
And, yes, it fades to black with an impressive boom, as well.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Severin Films provided me with a complimentary 4K UltraHD Blu-ray of The Mad Bomber (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
Recommended.
In all honesty, The Mad Bomber (1973) surprised me, turning out to be a very well-crafted Crime Thriller regardless of emerging from the mind of Science Fiction and Fantasy (schlock) auteur Bert I. Gordon. Now, don’t misunderstand me: it certainly isn’t anywhere near the peak of 1970’s crime stories – of which there are plenty of authentic Classics – but even a few decades later it’s still an exceedingly watchable and relevant production. Though it dabbles heavily in B-Movie sensibilities as well, Bomber pushes forward with a lean efficiency – much like the ticking down of a timebomb – only stopping here and there to exploit the dark habits of its twin villains whose paths crossed and intertwined in spite of their differences.
And, yes, it fades to black with an impressive boom, as well.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Severin Films provided me with a complimentary 4K UltraHD Blu-ray of The Mad Bomber (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
Whether on television or the silver screen, Science Fiction and Fantasy of the bygone eras has some best standards that are always worth reconsidering.
For example, it’s pretty easy to take a gander at the era of the 1950’s and come up with a list of the finest flicks that demonstrate what an adventure from those days looked like. While the stories themselves might vary significantly, there isn’t a great deal of visual difference between such entries as 1951’s The Day The Earth Stood Still, 1954’s The Creature From The Black Lagoon, or 1956’s Invasion Of The Body Snatchers. Aesthetically, they’re all drawn from the same palate, and – special effects being what they were – they all achieve roughly the same results. 1954’s Godzilla goes big and tall as efficiently as 1957’s The Incredible Shrinking Man goes tiny, tiny, and tinier. While one might argue that 1953’s The War Of The Worlds or 1956’s Forbidden Planet blew a bit more on their respective bells and whistles, there’s still a basic thread that one might see running through all of that decade’s very best, making them feel like they belong standing shoulder-to-shoulder in the history books as works deserving the places they’ve earned.
Things started to look up just a bit in the late 1960’s when Stanley Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey truly introduced audiences to a level of cinematic reinvention that wouldn’t quite become the norm for a few more years, mostly because not every studio could afford to invest so much money in this all-new level of visual trickery. Still, such entries as 1971’s The Andromeda Strain, 1972’s Silent Running, and 1976’s Logan’s Run showed that the trend was definitely worth exploring, even though these pictures might’ve been a bit darker or a bit more thought-provoking than mainstream audiences usually embrace on the silver screen. It wasn’t until George Lucas’s immortal Star Wars (1977) merged mainstream desires for stories about heroes with such cutting-edge special effects work that an all-new aesthetic came into being, and – to some degree – that continues to ebb and flow with what Hollywood and beyond tries to produce even today.
Storyteller Glen A. Larson – a producer and screenwriter whose career was still relatively young (in TV terms, anyway) – also contributed to this legacy in a noticeable way when he sought to bring such epic mythology that Lucas reintroduced to a generation to serialized television. Sadly, his groundbreaking and expensive Battlestar Galactica is overlooked by today’s viewers in large part owed to a politically significant recreation running on the SciFi (now Syfy) Channel gave it an mature makeover from 2003 through 2009, so much so that it barely resembled the somewhat juvenile but more wholesome original. This has always surprised me if for no other reason that the earlier Galactica had a great, great, great deal in common with Star Wars’ Original Trilogy, and – for better or worse – those flicks still resonate with modern audiences today. Why these same viewers turn their noses up and scoff at such heroes of Commander Adama, Captain Apollo, and Lieutenant Starbuck befuddles me to no end; and I say this even though I’ll happily concede that the mechanics of weekly TV production probably did the show no favors. In short, you can’t destroy the Death Star every seven days across a television season and have it mean as much each and every time: so perhaps there’s something to be said for reserving some spectacles for the cineplexes.
For example, it’s pretty easy to take a gander at the era of the 1950’s and come up with a list of the finest flicks that demonstrate what an adventure from those days looked like. While the stories themselves might vary significantly, there isn’t a great deal of visual difference between such entries as 1951’s The Day The Earth Stood Still, 1954’s The Creature From The Black Lagoon, or 1956’s Invasion Of The Body Snatchers. Aesthetically, they’re all drawn from the same palate, and – special effects being what they were – they all achieve roughly the same results. 1954’s Godzilla goes big and tall as efficiently as 1957’s The Incredible Shrinking Man goes tiny, tiny, and tinier. While one might argue that 1953’s The War Of The Worlds or 1956’s Forbidden Planet blew a bit more on their respective bells and whistles, there’s still a basic thread that one might see running through all of that decade’s very best, making them feel like they belong standing shoulder-to-shoulder in the history books as works deserving the places they’ve earned.
Things started to look up just a bit in the late 1960’s when Stanley Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey truly introduced audiences to a level of cinematic reinvention that wouldn’t quite become the norm for a few more years, mostly because not every studio could afford to invest so much money in this all-new level of visual trickery. Still, such entries as 1971’s The Andromeda Strain, 1972’s Silent Running, and 1976’s Logan’s Run showed that the trend was definitely worth exploring, even though these pictures might’ve been a bit darker or a bit more thought-provoking than mainstream audiences usually embrace on the silver screen. It wasn’t until George Lucas’s immortal Star Wars (1977) merged mainstream desires for stories about heroes with such cutting-edge special effects work that an all-new aesthetic came into being, and – to some degree – that continues to ebb and flow with what Hollywood and beyond tries to produce even today.
Storyteller Glen A. Larson – a producer and screenwriter whose career was still relatively young (in TV terms, anyway) – also contributed to this legacy in a noticeable way when he sought to bring such epic mythology that Lucas reintroduced to a generation to serialized television. Sadly, his groundbreaking and expensive Battlestar Galactica is overlooked by today’s viewers in large part owed to a politically significant recreation running on the SciFi (now Syfy) Channel gave it an mature makeover from 2003 through 2009, so much so that it barely resembled the somewhat juvenile but more wholesome original. This has always surprised me if for no other reason that the earlier Galactica had a great, great, great deal in common with Star Wars’ Original Trilogy, and – for better or worse – those flicks still resonate with modern audiences today. Why these same viewers turn their noses up and scoff at such heroes of Commander Adama, Captain Apollo, and Lieutenant Starbuck befuddles me to no end; and I say this even though I’ll happily concede that the mechanics of weekly TV production probably did the show no favors. In short, you can’t destroy the Death Star every seven days across a television season and have it mean as much each and every time: so perhaps there’s something to be said for reserving some spectacles for the cineplexes.
In any event, I wanted to take a few moments to reflect on the franchise because it’s always been one of my favorites, so I screened the theatrical cut of the ‘Saga Of A Star World’ last night for good measure. This likely won’t be a full critical review – not the likes of which I usually do – but I’ll still have something to say about this version that may not exactly apply to the whole series run as a few bits and pieces were arranged differently for the purposes of putting that fateful Battlestar up on the big screen the way Larson conceived. In it, the villainous Baltar may not have lived – he’s executed about halfway through the action – and perhaps that’s the only cut that makes perfect sense. I’ll leave that up to you to decide.
(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:
“After the destruction of the Twelve Colonies of Mankind, the last major fighter carrier leads a makeshift fugitive fleet on a desperate search for the legendary planet Earth.”
Even having lived through it, I’ve still found it difficult to convey to readers just how deeply the success of Star Wars changed the entertainment landscape.
This little Space Western caught Hollywood by surprise. Literally, few people saw potential in the production; and many expected it would come and go with little impact. Hell, there are even stories out there wherein other prominent directors recommended to their pal George Lucas to either avoid releasing it or tinkering with it to make it “better,” and, yes, I encourage readers to do a bit of research to learn just how many believed this now revered tale of good versus evil was destined for the ash heap of film history when the exact opposite came true. Once it was in theaters and it – factually – was held over for weeks and months at a time, every studio rushed anything similar they could into production pipeline, hoping to fool viewers to show up for more of the same when what they delivered was vastly forgettable by comparison.
For my money, the only thing that evolved out of this period that even casually stood up to the test was Larson’s Battlestar Galactica, an IP so thematically close to Star Wars that George Lucas and Universal Pictures had to come together and make some agreements so as to avoid significant and costly litigation. While the courts initially sided with 20th Century Fox and I believe some money was exchanged, there never was any huge trial investigating the accusations of plagiarism; and so-called experts who claim otherwise should probably do a bit more research. Of course, I’m not arguing that there weren’t artistic similarities because those are rather obvious: what I’ve always insisted is that if you spend a bit of time with each franchise separately then you can see that there are two unique universes that overlap in ways that might’ve been impossible to avoid, mythmaking being what it is.
(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:
“After the destruction of the Twelve Colonies of Mankind, the last major fighter carrier leads a makeshift fugitive fleet on a desperate search for the legendary planet Earth.”
Even having lived through it, I’ve still found it difficult to convey to readers just how deeply the success of Star Wars changed the entertainment landscape.
This little Space Western caught Hollywood by surprise. Literally, few people saw potential in the production; and many expected it would come and go with little impact. Hell, there are even stories out there wherein other prominent directors recommended to their pal George Lucas to either avoid releasing it or tinkering with it to make it “better,” and, yes, I encourage readers to do a bit of research to learn just how many believed this now revered tale of good versus evil was destined for the ash heap of film history when the exact opposite came true. Once it was in theaters and it – factually – was held over for weeks and months at a time, every studio rushed anything similar they could into production pipeline, hoping to fool viewers to show up for more of the same when what they delivered was vastly forgettable by comparison.
For my money, the only thing that evolved out of this period that even casually stood up to the test was Larson’s Battlestar Galactica, an IP so thematically close to Star Wars that George Lucas and Universal Pictures had to come together and make some agreements so as to avoid significant and costly litigation. While the courts initially sided with 20th Century Fox and I believe some money was exchanged, there never was any huge trial investigating the accusations of plagiarism; and so-called experts who claim otherwise should probably do a bit more research. Of course, I’m not arguing that there weren’t artistic similarities because those are rather obvious: what I’ve always insisted is that if you spend a bit of time with each franchise separately then you can see that there are two unique universes that overlap in ways that might’ve been impossible to avoid, mythmaking being what it is.
There are those who believe that Galactica’s theatrical life needn’t be discussed critically because – for authenticity’s sake – what matters more are the original episodes that were more widely viewed than were the stand-alone movies. Well, the dirty little secret here from what I’ve read is that Universal conceived of the property firstly as a series of three telefilms, ones that could also find life on movie screens around the world, generating profits that might offset the cost of TV production; and it wasn’t until they saw what they had with the first adventure that they realized they had something special that just might make for good television. At this point, they went in a different creative direction, giving birth to the show which lasted a glorious twenty-one episodes. So, yes, I think this cut has always deserved a bit of reflection as a consequence.
The Twelve Colonies of Man are at a crossroads. Their mortal enemy – the Cylon Alliance – has sued for peace after a war that lasted 1,000 years; and the worlds have begun celebrating an armistice they’ve long believed impossible. Yet what they believe is a new beginning might very well turn out to be an ending of galactic proportions when the Cylons instead attack a largely reserved fleet and their disarmed planets, bringing mankind to the brink of extinction. As fate would have it, one single Battlestar – the Galactica – and its Commander Adama (played by Lorne Greene) defied military orders and the odds in a brave gambit to save itself and their people from this new onslaught. In the process, a new struggle begins, not so much centered on aggression as it is over survival.
So, thematically, it’s reasonably easy to see the similarities between the separate properties. Of course, there’s a big war taking place that harkens to that seminal conflict between the Galactic Empire and the Rebel Alliance, but – in the original A New Hope – we’re honestly not treated to all that much space-based warfare, except for the big ending. Yes, there are ships flying about blasting one another with their laser cannons, but – as a war story – the Republic has fallen, and the Empire has clearly won. What remains is a story about rebels – a ragtag group of survivors – and their bid to throw off tyranny. Whereas Luke Skywalker, Han Solo, and Princess Leia are trying to put themselves back on the map, so are Apollo (Richard Hatch), Starbuck (Dirk Benedict), and Boomer (Herbert Jefferson Jr.).
Where I think Galactica veers off in a slightly different direction is that – much like Gene Roddenberry’s Star Trek – this gang sets off on a pilgrimage into the stars. As a people, they’re well past standing and fighting for a piece of the galaxy; instead, they’re on the run, hoping to find a new parcel of land somewhere out there – amongst the cosmos – always heading in the direction of that shining planet called Earth. The Rebellion was about retaking their universe from the political heavyweights who’d seized power and control; the crew of the Galactica would encounter more enemies than just the Cylon Empire – even in this first movie, the insect-like Ovions had their own agenda against humans – so I’ve always seen these differences and celebrated them on their merits.
Otherwise, sure, one might also suggest some structural comparisons between Galactica and Star Wars’ gamut of characters.
The Twelve Colonies of Man are at a crossroads. Their mortal enemy – the Cylon Alliance – has sued for peace after a war that lasted 1,000 years; and the worlds have begun celebrating an armistice they’ve long believed impossible. Yet what they believe is a new beginning might very well turn out to be an ending of galactic proportions when the Cylons instead attack a largely reserved fleet and their disarmed planets, bringing mankind to the brink of extinction. As fate would have it, one single Battlestar – the Galactica – and its Commander Adama (played by Lorne Greene) defied military orders and the odds in a brave gambit to save itself and their people from this new onslaught. In the process, a new struggle begins, not so much centered on aggression as it is over survival.
So, thematically, it’s reasonably easy to see the similarities between the separate properties. Of course, there’s a big war taking place that harkens to that seminal conflict between the Galactic Empire and the Rebel Alliance, but – in the original A New Hope – we’re honestly not treated to all that much space-based warfare, except for the big ending. Yes, there are ships flying about blasting one another with their laser cannons, but – as a war story – the Republic has fallen, and the Empire has clearly won. What remains is a story about rebels – a ragtag group of survivors – and their bid to throw off tyranny. Whereas Luke Skywalker, Han Solo, and Princess Leia are trying to put themselves back on the map, so are Apollo (Richard Hatch), Starbuck (Dirk Benedict), and Boomer (Herbert Jefferson Jr.).
Where I think Galactica veers off in a slightly different direction is that – much like Gene Roddenberry’s Star Trek – this gang sets off on a pilgrimage into the stars. As a people, they’re well past standing and fighting for a piece of the galaxy; instead, they’re on the run, hoping to find a new parcel of land somewhere out there – amongst the cosmos – always heading in the direction of that shining planet called Earth. The Rebellion was about retaking their universe from the political heavyweights who’d seized power and control; the crew of the Galactica would encounter more enemies than just the Cylon Empire – even in this first movie, the insect-like Ovions had their own agenda against humans – so I’ve always seen these differences and celebrated them on their merits.
Otherwise, sure, one might also suggest some structural comparisons between Galactica and Star Wars’ gamut of characters.
Commander Adama delivers a veteran and fatherly influence in much the same way that Obi-Wan Kenobi does in that galaxy far, far away. At first blush, Starbuck and Han Solo might seem cut from the same cloth, but there are differences in that Solo thinks like a mechanic and Starbuck needs assistance in bringing his damaged craft home safely as a result of its battle damage. Apollo and Luke Skywalker both appear as impressionable inheritors of all that’s good and gracious in their respective galaxies; and a close watcher might even draw comparisons between their corresponding issues with absent or present father figures. However, Galactica has no associated Princess Leia amongst its castmates; there are women present, one might have a degree of Leia’s moxie, but they’re clearly no where near the center of the action in this pilot movie, nor are they possess much mythic potential to stand alongside the men in the heat of action. (I’m aware that changes to some degree as the show develops, but – as I said – this reflection applies entirely to this first chapter.)
Where I’d argue that Galactica takes a distant back seat to Star Wars is in the villain department.
In A New Hope, Darth Vader (David Prowse and James Earl Jones) clearly stands head-and-shoulders above any other adversary in the film. While Grand Moff Tarkin (Peter Cushing) is shown to mildly be holding the Dark Lord of the Sith in check, it’s still very clear that Vader serves as the black-hooded embodiment of evil across these various worlds. Nothing – and no one – really comes in as a close second. By comparison, Galactica’s Imperious Leader (voiced by Patrick Macnee) is a figure so shrouded in secrecy that he’s never even given a full screen reveal, seated instead in a throne high above the Cylon Centurions who show up to do his bidding. Clearly, there is a modest attempt to ramp up Count Baltar (John Colicos) as some galactic baddie; and yet aside from aiding the Cylons in the double cross of humanity he just has no relative teeth as a significant scene chewer. In the theatrical cut, he’s even beheaded for all of his trouble around the midpoint, so – again – where’s the true evil personae? Why, even the Imperious Leader doesn’t make it out of this first film alive – at least, that audiences know of – and this does loosely cheapen the experience even though it’s still a pure ‘good triumphs over evil’ that viewers expect in space operas.
An untested viewer might even leave the theatrical cut of Battlestar Galactica thinking that for all intents and purposes this story has effectively concluded, much in the same way the Throne Room softly signals that a new day has come to the Star Wars universe at the end of A New Hope. Both sets of heroes emerge as triumphant over the forces that would oppress them, and the only major difference is that Galactica includes a voiceover suggesting that more is to come. Indeed, as I said above more was planned to come – two additional telefilms – which would expand on the show’s core wartime mythology – you knew you hadn’t seen the last of those Cylons. Unlike Star Wars – Lucas and company spaced out those adventures by three years apiece – the Galaticans marched headlong into their next challenge only weeks later, making television history yet again.
Where I’d argue that Galactica takes a distant back seat to Star Wars is in the villain department.
In A New Hope, Darth Vader (David Prowse and James Earl Jones) clearly stands head-and-shoulders above any other adversary in the film. While Grand Moff Tarkin (Peter Cushing) is shown to mildly be holding the Dark Lord of the Sith in check, it’s still very clear that Vader serves as the black-hooded embodiment of evil across these various worlds. Nothing – and no one – really comes in as a close second. By comparison, Galactica’s Imperious Leader (voiced by Patrick Macnee) is a figure so shrouded in secrecy that he’s never even given a full screen reveal, seated instead in a throne high above the Cylon Centurions who show up to do his bidding. Clearly, there is a modest attempt to ramp up Count Baltar (John Colicos) as some galactic baddie; and yet aside from aiding the Cylons in the double cross of humanity he just has no relative teeth as a significant scene chewer. In the theatrical cut, he’s even beheaded for all of his trouble around the midpoint, so – again – where’s the true evil personae? Why, even the Imperious Leader doesn’t make it out of this first film alive – at least, that audiences know of – and this does loosely cheapen the experience even though it’s still a pure ‘good triumphs over evil’ that viewers expect in space operas.
An untested viewer might even leave the theatrical cut of Battlestar Galactica thinking that for all intents and purposes this story has effectively concluded, much in the same way the Throne Room softly signals that a new day has come to the Star Wars universe at the end of A New Hope. Both sets of heroes emerge as triumphant over the forces that would oppress them, and the only major difference is that Galactica includes a voiceover suggesting that more is to come. Indeed, as I said above more was planned to come – two additional telefilms – which would expand on the show’s core wartime mythology – you knew you hadn’t seen the last of those Cylons. Unlike Star Wars – Lucas and company spaced out those adventures by three years apiece – the Galaticans marched headlong into their next challenge only weeks later, making television history yet again.
Along with solid acting performances and winning special effects, Galactica delivered audiences with another bold franchise set out there in the Final Frontier. It may not have exactly been a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away but nor was it entirely where no man had gone before. The pilot movie only dabbled in the mythology it developed in the episodes ahead, and that’s likely because Larson knew to not bite off more than any group of viewers could chew. The emphasis was on adventure, one dominated by males who swaggered much like any space cowboys would; and all of this definitely made an impression on my young mind. While it wasn’t as perfectly conceived as its big screen counterpart, it was still a sight to behold; and I’m convinced I’m a better consumer for having lived through it than having never seen it. Just like Star Wars, it’ll always be a part of me; and if these humble words encourage any of you to give it another whirl – as opposed to that murky Syfy re-imaging – than more power to the both of us.
Battlestar Galactica (1978) was produced by Glen A. Larson Productions and Universal Television. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at Universal Entertainment. (For clarity’s sake – in case anyone’s wondering – that version was the complete BSG collection set issued on the franchise’s thirty-fifth anniversary.) As for the technical specifications? Wow. While I’m no trained video expert, I found the provided sights-and-sounds exception from start-to-finish: it all just looks excellent. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? Alas, there isn’t a one on the disc, but the packaging indicates that there was some linkage to online extras back in the original release window: if those are still active, I didn’t check them out.
Highly Recommended.
I know, I know, I know … “but the Syfy version was more politically relevant!” Sorry, folks, but that’s precisely why I’ll likely never rewatch the Syfy incarnation of Battlestar Galactica. For my money, the original series’ pilot which was edited into this theatrical release way back then and actually played in select theaters around the world just continues to resonate with the 13-year-old young’un still living in the basement of my soul. It probably always will. Granted, it suffers from a kind of bombastic storytelling that was the soup du jour when it came to late 1970’s storytelling sensibilities; so modern viewers should be forewarned. Back then, men could be men, women could be women, and you could easily tell the difference between heroes and villains, making this two-hour-plus opus about as good nostalgia-bait that has ever been.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that I’m beholden to no one for this review of Battlestar Galactica (1978) – the theatrical cut – as I viewed it from my very own home video collection.
-- EZ
Battlestar Galactica (1978) was produced by Glen A. Larson Productions and Universal Television. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at Universal Entertainment. (For clarity’s sake – in case anyone’s wondering – that version was the complete BSG collection set issued on the franchise’s thirty-fifth anniversary.) As for the technical specifications? Wow. While I’m no trained video expert, I found the provided sights-and-sounds exception from start-to-finish: it all just looks excellent. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? Alas, there isn’t a one on the disc, but the packaging indicates that there was some linkage to online extras back in the original release window: if those are still active, I didn’t check them out.
Highly Recommended.
I know, I know, I know … “but the Syfy version was more politically relevant!” Sorry, folks, but that’s precisely why I’ll likely never rewatch the Syfy incarnation of Battlestar Galactica. For my money, the original series’ pilot which was edited into this theatrical release way back then and actually played in select theaters around the world just continues to resonate with the 13-year-old young’un still living in the basement of my soul. It probably always will. Granted, it suffers from a kind of bombastic storytelling that was the soup du jour when it came to late 1970’s storytelling sensibilities; so modern viewers should be forewarned. Back then, men could be men, women could be women, and you could easily tell the difference between heroes and villains, making this two-hour-plus opus about as good nostalgia-bait that has ever been.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that I’m beholden to no one for this review of Battlestar Galactica (1978) – the theatrical cut – as I viewed it from my very own home video collection.
-- EZ
- Published on
Folks, I read over the weekend about the passing of artist Greg Hildebrandt, and I want to get up a post this morning to honor the man's legacy.
Back in the days of my youth, the Brother Hildebrandt (Tim and Greg) as they were known were just phenomenal artists. I distinctly remember their work in the world of J.R.R. Tolkien's The Hobbit and The Lord Of The Rings, recalling how their stylistic interpretations really set the bar for what literary Fantasy could look like when it was brought to life in a different medium. I'd read that they were particularly disappointed that they weren't contracted to work on the late 1970's animated The Lord Of The Rings film -- a project that, essentially, told the first half of the book trilogy and went unfinished because it failed to build an audience -- and that kinda/sorta created a bit of a rift between the two. Wikipedia.org reports that they worked together until the 1980's at which point -- for professional reasons -- they went their separate ways. Though they both continued working in the realms of the Fantastic, I still think it's sad that they weren't in unison as they had been for so many years previously.
Honestly, I couldn't even begin to guess whether or not illustrations of their type are en vogue with the entertainment industry today. (My personal opinion is that it isn't, but I've only impressions and anecdotal evidence to base that on.) That, too, saddens me quite a bit because I remember growing up and being so amazed by what Greg and Tim had produced. Why, I recall picking up magazines solely because of their contributions to it, but that kinda/sorta thing even happen today? Art of this type seems to be a lost commodity, and I've no means to understand how fandom has evolved to this point. The Hildebrandts were as instrumental in the world of Pop Culture as anyone can claim, and, yes, it saddens me greatly to know that another light has gone out in the universe that could, would, and should continue to burn ever brightly.
Our warmest thoughts and prayers are extended to the family, friends, and fans of Greg Hildebrandt.
May he forever rest in peace ...
-- EZ
Back in the days of my youth, the Brother Hildebrandt (Tim and Greg) as they were known were just phenomenal artists. I distinctly remember their work in the world of J.R.R. Tolkien's The Hobbit and The Lord Of The Rings, recalling how their stylistic interpretations really set the bar for what literary Fantasy could look like when it was brought to life in a different medium. I'd read that they were particularly disappointed that they weren't contracted to work on the late 1970's animated The Lord Of The Rings film -- a project that, essentially, told the first half of the book trilogy and went unfinished because it failed to build an audience -- and that kinda/sorta created a bit of a rift between the two. Wikipedia.org reports that they worked together until the 1980's at which point -- for professional reasons -- they went their separate ways. Though they both continued working in the realms of the Fantastic, I still think it's sad that they weren't in unison as they had been for so many years previously.
Honestly, I couldn't even begin to guess whether or not illustrations of their type are en vogue with the entertainment industry today. (My personal opinion is that it isn't, but I've only impressions and anecdotal evidence to base that on.) That, too, saddens me quite a bit because I remember growing up and being so amazed by what Greg and Tim had produced. Why, I recall picking up magazines solely because of their contributions to it, but that kinda/sorta thing even happen today? Art of this type seems to be a lost commodity, and I've no means to understand how fandom has evolved to this point. The Hildebrandts were as instrumental in the world of Pop Culture as anyone can claim, and, yes, it saddens me greatly to know that another light has gone out in the universe that could, would, and should continue to burn ever brightly.
Our warmest thoughts and prayers are extended to the family, friends, and fans of Greg Hildebrandt.
May he forever rest in peace ...
-- EZ
- Published on
There are a great many elements that go into making a good Horror movie.
For example, the very best chills are produced when audiences are presented with characters who are both believable in their thoughts and actions as well as being people we can all care about. Their struggle against whatever entity proclaims their doom needn’t necessarily be real – ghosts, ghouls, and goblins being what they may or may not be – but there should be a relatable core behind their set-up, the steps taken, and their onscreen attempts to circumvent their demise. While it might only be a first step, the closer a storyteller can position his players in the mind of the audience only helps draw them into the flight of dark fancy; the more we’re attached to them, the more we hope that they’ll survive, despite whatever circumstances could be attached by screenwriting invention. It’s just a great foundation, and there’s no denying its effectiveness throughout all of film history.
Of course, there’s much, much more to the formula for screen success. Horror films are usually replete with atmosphere. They’re sometimes tied to particular places or particular moments in history. It helps to ramp up the tension with effective jump scares and to keep audiences guessing with each new development. Yes, suspense certainly helps push all of the action in the direction of whatever climax is on the menu, but it shouldn’t happen just for convenience’s sake. Logic should prevail – how many Horrors are ruined by characters doing stupid things? – but there’s no better way to deliver high quality frights than to – first and foremost – give us ordinary players caught up in extraordinary circumstances. That makes the filmed world go ‘round, and it keeps viewers hoping and praying for an effective resolution.
Presently, writer/director Vyacheslav Rudenko only has a few features under his belt (if IMDB.com is to be trusted), and perhaps such inexperience led his 2021 entry – The Syndrome – largely vanishing from the theatrical landscape with so little impact. I’d never heard of the flick – not a bad thing in and of itself but I see very little written about it online from a few searches – and it shows up at the moment as having no professional reviews on IMDB.com, RottenTomatoes.com, and even Metacritic.com. Were this a new film, that might not be surprising; but usually after a few years there’s something of substance crafted somewhere on the Information Superhighway. With practically nothing coming up, I’m going to treat this one as fundamentally obscure, meaning I’ll spend a bit more time in discussing its plot below before getting into the weeds on my reaction.
(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:
“St. Petersburg is shaken by a series of bizarre suicides preceded by visions of the Man in White. Yegor and Karina, who both lost their relatives earlier, struggle to solve the mystery before ominous entity claims their lives.”
For example, the very best chills are produced when audiences are presented with characters who are both believable in their thoughts and actions as well as being people we can all care about. Their struggle against whatever entity proclaims their doom needn’t necessarily be real – ghosts, ghouls, and goblins being what they may or may not be – but there should be a relatable core behind their set-up, the steps taken, and their onscreen attempts to circumvent their demise. While it might only be a first step, the closer a storyteller can position his players in the mind of the audience only helps draw them into the flight of dark fancy; the more we’re attached to them, the more we hope that they’ll survive, despite whatever circumstances could be attached by screenwriting invention. It’s just a great foundation, and there’s no denying its effectiveness throughout all of film history.
Of course, there’s much, much more to the formula for screen success. Horror films are usually replete with atmosphere. They’re sometimes tied to particular places or particular moments in history. It helps to ramp up the tension with effective jump scares and to keep audiences guessing with each new development. Yes, suspense certainly helps push all of the action in the direction of whatever climax is on the menu, but it shouldn’t happen just for convenience’s sake. Logic should prevail – how many Horrors are ruined by characters doing stupid things? – but there’s no better way to deliver high quality frights than to – first and foremost – give us ordinary players caught up in extraordinary circumstances. That makes the filmed world go ‘round, and it keeps viewers hoping and praying for an effective resolution.
Presently, writer/director Vyacheslav Rudenko only has a few features under his belt (if IMDB.com is to be trusted), and perhaps such inexperience led his 2021 entry – The Syndrome – largely vanishing from the theatrical landscape with so little impact. I’d never heard of the flick – not a bad thing in and of itself but I see very little written about it online from a few searches – and it shows up at the moment as having no professional reviews on IMDB.com, RottenTomatoes.com, and even Metacritic.com. Were this a new film, that might not be surprising; but usually after a few years there’s something of substance crafted somewhere on the Information Superhighway. With practically nothing coming up, I’m going to treat this one as fundamentally obscure, meaning I’ll spend a bit more time in discussing its plot below before getting into the weeds on my reaction.
(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:
“St. Petersburg is shaken by a series of bizarre suicides preceded by visions of the Man in White. Yegor and Karina, who both lost their relatives earlier, struggle to solve the mystery before ominous entity claims their lives.”
The Syndrome opens with a random burglar stumbling across a dead man’s body concealed in the dark of an apartment’s locked pantry. He manages to evade capture and flees the building but not before he notices a curious figure: halfway down the alley watching him stands a masked man clothed all in white. In the matter of a few seconds, the stranger lights himself afire, and he goes up in a blaze with the burglar watching.
What the common thief could not have known was that by looking at the dead man in the apartment he’s been vexed by ‘the man in white,’ a shadowy supernatural figure whose origins are tied to Viktor (played by Aleksandr Kudrenko); the former mental patient somehow manifested this evil spirit from the ether into reality. Several years back, Viktor managed to squash the spell – the first person to witness an infected person’s body upon death inherits the curse to commit suicide in whatever fashion the man in white chooses. Since then, the man has lived in fear that the demon would somehow rise again and eventually come for him once more. To his horror, this would-be robber has done just that, and he’s the first victim in a new reign of apparent suicides.
Naturally, this sudden emergence of a hari-kari trend becomes local news, drawing the attention of Karina (Darya Melnikova) and Bogdan (Timofey Dashuk), siblings whose parents killed themselves during the original outbreak. Knowing that their parents were working with a police detective who disappeared near the end of the last epidemic, they seek out the officer’s son, Yegor (Ilya Korobko), in hopes that he may possibly know something about stopping the curse in its tracks. Initially, Yegor wants nothing to do with the two – he’s hellbent on finally getting out of St. Petersburg having lost both his parents as well – but he eventually gets drawn into the affair when he briefly saves the life of Vika (Varvara Verkhovykh), the man in white’s next casualty who passes the deadly jink onto Bogdan. Now with even greater personal connection, the three join forces, picking up Yegor’s father’s investigation where it last left off in hopes that they can save themselves from certain doom.
Initially, The Syndrome reminded me heavily of Japan’s Ringu, the 1998 Horror/Thriller that explored a transmissible curse to those who watched a cursed videotape: it’s the same basic structure – one hexed event directly leads to the next, and so on and so forth – but it varies by having the two players present at the first’s moment of death. While I won’t spoil the manner in which the team eventually concocts a way around the curse (suffice it to say that it, too, is reminiscent of things done theatrically elsewhere, mainly in Joel Schumacher’s 1990 Flatliners), it’s a fairly logical conclusion to make, though it (naturally) doesn’t quite go as planned. It also helps The Syndrome’s overall vibe in that the whole event feels like it could’ve been something done previously on Fox TV’s The X-Files, so perhaps a quick telephone call to FBI Agents Mulder and Scully might’ve been in order.
However, this isn’t meant to insult The Syndrome in any way whatsoever. In fact, it might be one big selling point, so far as I’m concerned.
Writer/director Rudenko clearly had an idea for what he wanted to capture aesthetically, and despite the occasional overlong sequence here or there I thought it worked quite swimmingly. St. Petersburg becomes part of the fabric for this dark spell – a big city shown with often empty streets shot under a flat sky – evoking a sense of things unsettled whilst the universe pushes back against closure. Even the open-all-night grocery store where Yegor eeks out what living he can never seems to have any customers; and the insane asylum that figures prominently into the second half can’t seem to muster but a single patient or two in every frame. Where have all the people gone? Why, it’s almost as if they were driven away by the first rash of unpredictable and unsolved suicides, and now the only folks left are those waiting to be finished off when the man in white returns to active duty.
As for the onscreen talent, Korobko is quite good as the isolated loner who wants nothing more than to get out of town. It isn’t until Yegor finds a sense of familial responsibility once more alongside Karina, Bogdan, and Vika that he breaks out of his funk and accepts the task at hand as being part of his destiny. Dashuk is good, though he really is given the least to do in all of the madness. Vitaliy Krylov – as Yegor’s Uncle Boris and big city detective – has a solid presence and is given a great comic bit as his introduction. Kudrenko handles his task as the broken man worn down by a curse of his own making quite nicely, though it might’ve been nice had the script given him some presence a bit earlier in the picture.
What the common thief could not have known was that by looking at the dead man in the apartment he’s been vexed by ‘the man in white,’ a shadowy supernatural figure whose origins are tied to Viktor (played by Aleksandr Kudrenko); the former mental patient somehow manifested this evil spirit from the ether into reality. Several years back, Viktor managed to squash the spell – the first person to witness an infected person’s body upon death inherits the curse to commit suicide in whatever fashion the man in white chooses. Since then, the man has lived in fear that the demon would somehow rise again and eventually come for him once more. To his horror, this would-be robber has done just that, and he’s the first victim in a new reign of apparent suicides.
Naturally, this sudden emergence of a hari-kari trend becomes local news, drawing the attention of Karina (Darya Melnikova) and Bogdan (Timofey Dashuk), siblings whose parents killed themselves during the original outbreak. Knowing that their parents were working with a police detective who disappeared near the end of the last epidemic, they seek out the officer’s son, Yegor (Ilya Korobko), in hopes that he may possibly know something about stopping the curse in its tracks. Initially, Yegor wants nothing to do with the two – he’s hellbent on finally getting out of St. Petersburg having lost both his parents as well – but he eventually gets drawn into the affair when he briefly saves the life of Vika (Varvara Verkhovykh), the man in white’s next casualty who passes the deadly jink onto Bogdan. Now with even greater personal connection, the three join forces, picking up Yegor’s father’s investigation where it last left off in hopes that they can save themselves from certain doom.
Initially, The Syndrome reminded me heavily of Japan’s Ringu, the 1998 Horror/Thriller that explored a transmissible curse to those who watched a cursed videotape: it’s the same basic structure – one hexed event directly leads to the next, and so on and so forth – but it varies by having the two players present at the first’s moment of death. While I won’t spoil the manner in which the team eventually concocts a way around the curse (suffice it to say that it, too, is reminiscent of things done theatrically elsewhere, mainly in Joel Schumacher’s 1990 Flatliners), it’s a fairly logical conclusion to make, though it (naturally) doesn’t quite go as planned. It also helps The Syndrome’s overall vibe in that the whole event feels like it could’ve been something done previously on Fox TV’s The X-Files, so perhaps a quick telephone call to FBI Agents Mulder and Scully might’ve been in order.
However, this isn’t meant to insult The Syndrome in any way whatsoever. In fact, it might be one big selling point, so far as I’m concerned.
Writer/director Rudenko clearly had an idea for what he wanted to capture aesthetically, and despite the occasional overlong sequence here or there I thought it worked quite swimmingly. St. Petersburg becomes part of the fabric for this dark spell – a big city shown with often empty streets shot under a flat sky – evoking a sense of things unsettled whilst the universe pushes back against closure. Even the open-all-night grocery store where Yegor eeks out what living he can never seems to have any customers; and the insane asylum that figures prominently into the second half can’t seem to muster but a single patient or two in every frame. Where have all the people gone? Why, it’s almost as if they were driven away by the first rash of unpredictable and unsolved suicides, and now the only folks left are those waiting to be finished off when the man in white returns to active duty.
As for the onscreen talent, Korobko is quite good as the isolated loner who wants nothing more than to get out of town. It isn’t until Yegor finds a sense of familial responsibility once more alongside Karina, Bogdan, and Vika that he breaks out of his funk and accepts the task at hand as being part of his destiny. Dashuk is good, though he really is given the least to do in all of the madness. Vitaliy Krylov – as Yegor’s Uncle Boris and big city detective – has a solid presence and is given a great comic bit as his introduction. Kudrenko handles his task as the broken man worn down by a curse of his own making quite nicely, though it might’ve been nice had the script given him some presence a bit earlier in the picture.
But I’m giving my highest praise to the ladies as Melnikova and Verkhovykh both manage to bring the emotional weight of their respective positions when it matters most. They are the two key counterweights that hold the center – that manage the balance – necessary to make so much of this spectral caper work as strongly as it does. Verkhovykh is brilliant as the emotionally broken catalyst whose eyes portend doom and gloom at every turn, while Melnikova imbues her Karina with the kind of moxie necessary to truly be ‘the final girl’ in the whole dastardly business. She refuses to break, even when that means curling up in a fetal position in the tub so that she can cry alone in relative silence. She’s not about to show anyone that she’s vulnerable, and that’s a character choice I strongly salute when I see it, especially in Horror.
The Syndrome (2021) was produced by Azion Cinema and Sem Holmov. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at Warner Archive. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I found the provided sights-and-sounds to be exceptional throughout the picture’s run. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? Gasp! There isn’t a single one, and, yes, that’s sad as I truly wanted to spend a little more time in this world even at the risk of inheriting the curse on my own fragile soul.
Strongly Recommended.
While some might dismiss The Syndrome (2021) as being a bit derivative and maybe even slow in spots, I’d argue that there’s not all that much wrong about being associated with such popular efforts as Fox TV’s long-running The X-Files or even Japan’s pretty stellar Horror flick Ringu (1998) or its Americanized retreads. That’s pretty good company, if you ask me. Rudenko effectively crafts a dour existence against the backdrop of St. Petersburg, lightly suggesting Folk Horror in a few spots before succumbing to having a dark spirit hinging upon the perpetuation of evil deeds to fuel its existence carry his picture through its dreadful finish. Unlike other pictures, this one actually ends with a promise of hope in spite of all the loss preceding it, so let’s hope producers let sleeping dogs lie and not spoil the magic with an unnecessary sequel.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Warner Archive provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of The Syndrome (2021) 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
The Syndrome (2021) was produced by Azion Cinema and Sem Holmov. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at Warner Archive. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I found the provided sights-and-sounds to be exceptional throughout the picture’s run. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? Gasp! There isn’t a single one, and, yes, that’s sad as I truly wanted to spend a little more time in this world even at the risk of inheriting the curse on my own fragile soul.
Strongly Recommended.
While some might dismiss The Syndrome (2021) as being a bit derivative and maybe even slow in spots, I’d argue that there’s not all that much wrong about being associated with such popular efforts as Fox TV’s long-running The X-Files or even Japan’s pretty stellar Horror flick Ringu (1998) or its Americanized retreads. That’s pretty good company, if you ask me. Rudenko effectively crafts a dour existence against the backdrop of St. Petersburg, lightly suggesting Folk Horror in a few spots before succumbing to having a dark spirit hinging upon the perpetuation of evil deeds to fuel its existence carry his picture through its dreadful finish. Unlike other pictures, this one actually ends with a promise of hope in spite of all the loss preceding it, so let’s hope producers let sleeping dogs lie and not spoil the magic with an unnecessary sequel.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Warner Archive provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of The Syndrome (2021) 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
Though there are some citations which suggest that the ever-elusive Bigfoot has some historical grounding in the writings of indigenous people, I’d still argue that – as a cultural phenomenon – it ain’t that old.
In fact, it was most likely the 1967 Patterson-Gimlin film that truly sparked the whole Bigfoot craze at least so far as Americans are concerned. I was too young to hear of it (and make any sense of it) back then, but in the early 1970’s it definitely fell onto my own radar. As a young’un, I was a nut for anything paranormal, supernatural, or relatedly extraordinary; and I scoured newspapers and magazines for any such mention of saucers, aliens, ghosts, gremlins, portals, and Sasquatches. To be honest, there wasn’t much out there, but that thankfully changed over the years as books, TV shows, and major motion pictures finally got into the act of exploring ‘High Strangeness’ that had such a big (and growing) audience. It continues to this day as even podcasters and other content creators have breached those horizons, and I’m always pleased to find something new to add to the various mythologies.
And because I’ve always been a huge self-professed fan of ‘found footage filmmaking’ – which this arguable is and isn’t – I went into Shadows Of Bigfoot with high hopes. I’d seen a few modestly produced documentaries in the last year or two that loosely expanded on some publicized stories dealing with the mysterious cryptid; and – are you kidding me? – what would be better than an independent flick promising to give audiences one more up-close-and-personal look at the world’s reigning hide’n’seek champion? Written (in part) and directed by Brendan Rudnicki, the Horror/Fantasy starred Tatum Bates, Andrew Thomas, Billy Hirsch, Carl McWilliams, and Sabino Garza in prominent roles. What emerges come the big showdown isn’t so much ‘found footage’ nor all that frightening but it’s still an interesting theatrical diversion that might be good enough to whet the appetites of monster fans, footage junkies, and Bigfoot aficionados alike.
That has to count for something, am I right?
(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:
“In the shadowy confines of Blackwood Forest, filmmakers exploring Bigfoot myths face their worst fears when a vengeful monster emerges, turning their project into a chilling fight for survival.”
In fact, it was most likely the 1967 Patterson-Gimlin film that truly sparked the whole Bigfoot craze at least so far as Americans are concerned. I was too young to hear of it (and make any sense of it) back then, but in the early 1970’s it definitely fell onto my own radar. As a young’un, I was a nut for anything paranormal, supernatural, or relatedly extraordinary; and I scoured newspapers and magazines for any such mention of saucers, aliens, ghosts, gremlins, portals, and Sasquatches. To be honest, there wasn’t much out there, but that thankfully changed over the years as books, TV shows, and major motion pictures finally got into the act of exploring ‘High Strangeness’ that had such a big (and growing) audience. It continues to this day as even podcasters and other content creators have breached those horizons, and I’m always pleased to find something new to add to the various mythologies.
And because I’ve always been a huge self-professed fan of ‘found footage filmmaking’ – which this arguable is and isn’t – I went into Shadows Of Bigfoot with high hopes. I’d seen a few modestly produced documentaries in the last year or two that loosely expanded on some publicized stories dealing with the mysterious cryptid; and – are you kidding me? – what would be better than an independent flick promising to give audiences one more up-close-and-personal look at the world’s reigning hide’n’seek champion? Written (in part) and directed by Brendan Rudnicki, the Horror/Fantasy starred Tatum Bates, Andrew Thomas, Billy Hirsch, Carl McWilliams, and Sabino Garza in prominent roles. What emerges come the big showdown isn’t so much ‘found footage’ nor all that frightening but it’s still an interesting theatrical diversion that might be good enough to whet the appetites of monster fans, footage junkies, and Bigfoot aficionados alike.
That has to count for something, am I right?
(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:
“In the shadowy confines of Blackwood Forest, filmmakers exploring Bigfoot myths face their worst fears when a vengeful monster emerges, turning their project into a chilling fight for survival.”
Where I differ from most fans of ‘found footage’ is one simple position: I expect the rules – all of the rules – to be followed if I’m to accept it as an authentic entry into the unique sub-genre of (typically) Horror filmmaking.
As I stated politely above, Shadows Of Bigfoot is and isn’t a great example. Like so many features, its storytellers make good use of the construct – there’s even an opening title card that clarifies the recovered film was edited behind-the-scenes – but it doesn’t quite ‘stick the landing’ as they’ve chosen to incorporate some rather obvious editing between interviews, character exchanges, rehearsed speeches, and the like. Heck, the producers even felt it necessary to include background music – in a deliberate attempt to heighten the suspense – and – apologies to all involved – that’s really breaking some of the cornerstones to what ‘found footage’ was conceived to be.
Setting aside those grievances can be difficult, especially when it comes to critically evaluating a film, its performance, its varying perspectives, and whatnot. There could’ve been workarounds the cast and crew explored to maintain the authenticity desired of such experiences, but, instead, they opted to go in other directions … and no fault to them for their choices. It doesn’t make my job any easier, but I persevere, nonetheless.
Structurally, Shadows has everything it needed to deliver a good but somewhat predictable stories. (These yarns rarely end on happy notes, and this one is no different.) Grace (played by Tatum Bates) is a likeable presence; with an almost girl-next-door aura, she steps comfortably into the shoes of a YouTube.com-style content creator who spends her time exploring relatable mysteries. On her quest, she’s joined by Drew (Andrew Thomas), her fiancé and vlog partner who displays a bit more veracity when the question of exposing Bigfoot on camera enters the equation. Understandably, Grace’s aspirations have limitations, and they don’t include getting trampled much less eaten by the wooly behemoth; but she allows her curiosity to get the best of her, putting her good foot forward (which she’ll regret in more ways than one) because that’s what we do when we’re in a committed relationship.
As I stated politely above, Shadows Of Bigfoot is and isn’t a great example. Like so many features, its storytellers make good use of the construct – there’s even an opening title card that clarifies the recovered film was edited behind-the-scenes – but it doesn’t quite ‘stick the landing’ as they’ve chosen to incorporate some rather obvious editing between interviews, character exchanges, rehearsed speeches, and the like. Heck, the producers even felt it necessary to include background music – in a deliberate attempt to heighten the suspense – and – apologies to all involved – that’s really breaking some of the cornerstones to what ‘found footage’ was conceived to be.
Setting aside those grievances can be difficult, especially when it comes to critically evaluating a film, its performance, its varying perspectives, and whatnot. There could’ve been workarounds the cast and crew explored to maintain the authenticity desired of such experiences, but, instead, they opted to go in other directions … and no fault to them for their choices. It doesn’t make my job any easier, but I persevere, nonetheless.
Structurally, Shadows has everything it needed to deliver a good but somewhat predictable stories. (These yarns rarely end on happy notes, and this one is no different.) Grace (played by Tatum Bates) is a likeable presence; with an almost girl-next-door aura, she steps comfortably into the shoes of a YouTube.com-style content creator who spends her time exploring relatable mysteries. On her quest, she’s joined by Drew (Andrew Thomas), her fiancé and vlog partner who displays a bit more veracity when the question of exposing Bigfoot on camera enters the equation. Understandably, Grace’s aspirations have limitations, and they don’t include getting trampled much less eaten by the wooly behemoth; but she allows her curiosity to get the best of her, putting her good foot forward (which she’ll regret in more ways than one) because that’s what we do when we’re in a committed relationship.
To the cast and crew’s credit, they make good use (mostly) of a nighttime setting for the lion’s share of their search efforts. The sequences are still surprisingly well lit – especially when compared to what usually serves as murky ‘found footage – so much so that it becomes clear that these explorers are not so much travelling on paths in the deep, dark forest as they are old dirt roads (in most cases) that have been obscured by a bit of overgrown foliage and other natural detritus here and there. Having spent my fair share in the wilds, these locations don’t much resemble them, but – as I said – I think they’ve gone to respectable lengths to preserve the milieu necessary to make this spooky tale a bit spookier in the right ways.
Where things begin to come apart for me – besides the mention of some rather obvious editing done in post-production – is the fact that far too many of Grace and Drew’s little exchanges appear to have been somewhat greatly rehearsed. For example, the two narrate these small sequences detailing where they’re going and what they’re doing that are meant to be obvious inserts to their forthcoming documentary: however, these set-ups are delivered perfectly – with exact pauses, with exact verbiage, with zero flubs – and it feels very much like these are two actors who’ve properly memorized lines of dialogue and are no delivering them on-camera. It lacks the rawness that goes in unison with ‘found footage,’ cracking the reality they’ve much better conceived whilst plodding through the woodland. When you break that narrative wall, there’s really no easy way back, suggesting that this is all artificial; and they break it several times throughout the film.
Dissecting the structure a bit more, Shadows also in a few sequences works more like a completed documentary that it does the usual footage-in-progress. Early on their quest, our team stumbles across a group of campers sitting around their campfire so they do the neighborly thing and stop for a chat. What transpires are these woven together little snippets of exposition – bits and pieces of story wrapped around a suspicious local murder and the hermit living off the grid – and like those inserted pieces of music it’s undeniably clear that these have been strategically clung together, not authentically inserted as words were said. Yes, there’s a scene wherein Grace admits to backing up footage – also curiously filmed for no apparent reason except to set the stage for dialogue between her and Drew that would’ve otherwise gone unseen – so I don’t doubt she could’ve made some crucial little edits at that time. My point here is that it defies the whole foundation of ‘found footage,’ and that cheapens the brew.
Now, none of these complaints are meant to dissuade anyone who might otherwise enjoy Shadows. It’s extremely well-made – especially so when you know it’s an independent production – and it’s reasonably entertaining to those of us who like this sort of entertainment. Bigfoot certainly makes his presence known – it looks like he might even have friends – and it likely all wraps up exactly the way you want it to knowing that this is Horror, after all, and it doesn’t end happily ever after. A little more attention to details – along with a tighter script and a few more jump scares – could’ve given this one a greater chance to defy the commercial odds in the same way 1999’s The Blair Witch Project really brought back ‘found footage’ in a big way. But the truth remains that this Yeti is really no Blair Witch.
Where things begin to come apart for me – besides the mention of some rather obvious editing done in post-production – is the fact that far too many of Grace and Drew’s little exchanges appear to have been somewhat greatly rehearsed. For example, the two narrate these small sequences detailing where they’re going and what they’re doing that are meant to be obvious inserts to their forthcoming documentary: however, these set-ups are delivered perfectly – with exact pauses, with exact verbiage, with zero flubs – and it feels very much like these are two actors who’ve properly memorized lines of dialogue and are no delivering them on-camera. It lacks the rawness that goes in unison with ‘found footage,’ cracking the reality they’ve much better conceived whilst plodding through the woodland. When you break that narrative wall, there’s really no easy way back, suggesting that this is all artificial; and they break it several times throughout the film.
Dissecting the structure a bit more, Shadows also in a few sequences works more like a completed documentary that it does the usual footage-in-progress. Early on their quest, our team stumbles across a group of campers sitting around their campfire so they do the neighborly thing and stop for a chat. What transpires are these woven together little snippets of exposition – bits and pieces of story wrapped around a suspicious local murder and the hermit living off the grid – and like those inserted pieces of music it’s undeniably clear that these have been strategically clung together, not authentically inserted as words were said. Yes, there’s a scene wherein Grace admits to backing up footage – also curiously filmed for no apparent reason except to set the stage for dialogue between her and Drew that would’ve otherwise gone unseen – so I don’t doubt she could’ve made some crucial little edits at that time. My point here is that it defies the whole foundation of ‘found footage,’ and that cheapens the brew.
Now, none of these complaints are meant to dissuade anyone who might otherwise enjoy Shadows. It’s extremely well-made – especially so when you know it’s an independent production – and it’s reasonably entertaining to those of us who like this sort of entertainment. Bigfoot certainly makes his presence known – it looks like he might even have friends – and it likely all wraps up exactly the way you want it to knowing that this is Horror, after all, and it doesn’t end happily ever after. A little more attention to details – along with a tighter script and a few more jump scares – could’ve given this one a greater chance to defy the commercial odds in the same way 1999’s The Blair Witch Project really brought back ‘found footage’ in a big way. But the truth remains that this Yeti is really no Blair Witch.
Shadows Of Bigfoot (2024) was produced by DBS Films Orlando. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been handled by the fine folks at Warner Archive. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I’ve probably seen more ‘found footage’ projects that readers ever knew existed; and this one isn’t nearly a herky and jerky as are so many. In fact, this one’s overall production quality is very good, ignoring things like the usual out-of-focus and/or grain trickery. One might argue that – ahem – it looks too good for ‘found footage,’ but that’s an argument for another day and time. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? Sigh. Not a one. A miss, but – as they say – it is what it is.
Alas … only Mildly Recommended.
Why, why, why? It’s a question I find me asking myself with practically each and every found footage film that comes down the pike these days, and – respectfully – Shadows Of Bigfoot is no different. While I’m all in favor of crafting any project for maximum efficiency, I’m still strongly opposed to circumventing the core principles that make ‘found footage’ what they’re supposed to be in the first place. Those rather obvious gripes aside, Shadows will still likely resonate with those who are more forgiving than I – it had bits and pieces I enjoyed – and it might even achieve a modest cult status with footage enthusiasts in the years ahead. But for me – the only opinion I ever claim to represent – it was a touch too artificial in ways that showed I was watching a more conventional foray into the realms of the Fantastic; and that was a little offputting.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Warner Archive and DBS Films provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of Shadows Of Bigfoot (2024) 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
Alas … only Mildly Recommended.
Why, why, why? It’s a question I find me asking myself with practically each and every found footage film that comes down the pike these days, and – respectfully – Shadows Of Bigfoot is no different. While I’m all in favor of crafting any project for maximum efficiency, I’m still strongly opposed to circumventing the core principles that make ‘found footage’ what they’re supposed to be in the first place. Those rather obvious gripes aside, Shadows will still likely resonate with those who are more forgiving than I – it had bits and pieces I enjoyed – and it might even achieve a modest cult status with footage enthusiasts in the years ahead. But for me – the only opinion I ever claim to represent – it was a touch too artificial in ways that showed I was watching a more conventional foray into the realms of the Fantastic; and that was a little offputting.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Warner Archive and DBS Films provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of Shadows Of Bigfoot (2024) 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:
“Charly is looking for Amy, who disappeared during a vacation. He decides to visit the hotel to finally solve the mystery once and for all. However, Charly's investigation is quickly derailed and leads him into a phantasmagorical nightmare.”
Without sounding bleak, there are a good many problems with Victim Of Love (2019), many of which aren’t necessarily obvious at first blush. It’s the kind of flick that the more you think about then the more you will either love or hate it; and that isn’t a bad place to be in and of itself. In fact, some of mankind’s personal favorite motion pictures are the kind of thing we go back to over and over again to revisit, looking for something deeper, hoping for greater clarity with repeat viewings, or cherishing a particularly moving sequence because it deserves another helping. Such circumstances might not always make for great cinema, but they definitely fuel some viewers wanting answers to questions they may not have the wisdom to ask yet still know there’s a gaping hole meant to be filled with something … no matter what shape may fit.
Similarly, Charly (played by Rudi Køhnke) has found himself in a similar situation: he’s apparently lost what appears to be the love of his life, Amy (Louise Cho), somewhere in Copenhagen, and he’s refusing to go anywhere else until he finds her, thus making himself whole again. Though he understands what’s missing, he still vacillates between moments of sheer listlessness and depraved debauchery, rarely committed in action to the search he insists to everyone he’s undertaken. Could it be that, secretly, he doesn’t truly wish to find her? Or could it be that somewhere in the darkest of dark hearts he knows what’s waiting for him at that intended destination and he wishes to avoid it at all costs? (If that sounded spoilery, then so be it …)
It doesn’t take long for the wild ride that is Victim Of Love to realize Charly is the screen definition of the unreliable narrator for a lot of reasons. First, we see very little time spent on his professed investigation. Second, we see him caught up in some drug and booze-filled frenzies exhibiting behaviors that suggest he’s far from the ‘concerned citizen’ trying to locate a presumed loved one. Third, we witness him over and over and over again partaking of some very random acts of unpredictable violence, an oft repeated state of mind which only hints that he likely knows more than he’s let on about Amy’s disappearance. As one might expect, it’s really only a matter of time before his psyche cracks, giving us finally the rest of the story that was never adding up in the first place. It’s grim, of course, but his behaviors can lead to no other finale.
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“Charly is looking for Amy, who disappeared during a vacation. He decides to visit the hotel to finally solve the mystery once and for all. However, Charly's investigation is quickly derailed and leads him into a phantasmagorical nightmare.”
Without sounding bleak, there are a good many problems with Victim Of Love (2019), many of which aren’t necessarily obvious at first blush. It’s the kind of flick that the more you think about then the more you will either love or hate it; and that isn’t a bad place to be in and of itself. In fact, some of mankind’s personal favorite motion pictures are the kind of thing we go back to over and over again to revisit, looking for something deeper, hoping for greater clarity with repeat viewings, or cherishing a particularly moving sequence because it deserves another helping. Such circumstances might not always make for great cinema, but they definitely fuel some viewers wanting answers to questions they may not have the wisdom to ask yet still know there’s a gaping hole meant to be filled with something … no matter what shape may fit.
Similarly, Charly (played by Rudi Køhnke) has found himself in a similar situation: he’s apparently lost what appears to be the love of his life, Amy (Louise Cho), somewhere in Copenhagen, and he’s refusing to go anywhere else until he finds her, thus making himself whole again. Though he understands what’s missing, he still vacillates between moments of sheer listlessness and depraved debauchery, rarely committed in action to the search he insists to everyone he’s undertaken. Could it be that, secretly, he doesn’t truly wish to find her? Or could it be that somewhere in the darkest of dark hearts he knows what’s waiting for him at that intended destination and he wishes to avoid it at all costs? (If that sounded spoilery, then so be it …)
It doesn’t take long for the wild ride that is Victim Of Love to realize Charly is the screen definition of the unreliable narrator for a lot of reasons. First, we see very little time spent on his professed investigation. Second, we see him caught up in some drug and booze-filled frenzies exhibiting behaviors that suggest he’s far from the ‘concerned citizen’ trying to locate a presumed loved one. Third, we witness him over and over and over again partaking of some very random acts of unpredictable violence, an oft repeated state of mind which only hints that he likely knows more than he’s let on about Amy’s disappearance. As one might expect, it’s really only a matter of time before his psyche cracks, giving us finally the rest of the story that was never adding up in the first place. It’s grim, of course, but his behaviors can lead to no other finale.
So Victim is more of a psychological journey than it is a physical one. Of course, Charly travels to a few places in the city, but it’s more with the intent of finding a good time than anything patently useful to his stated mission. As such, he crosses paths with a few people; and everywhere he turns somehow manages to haunt him with another vision of Amy, often in a dreamlike state, often covered in blood. It isn’t as if the audience at any point in this ninety-minute runtime is given any pressing reason to believe that this cloud has a silver lining hidden somewhere in a distant corner of the sky. It’s always dark. It’s always foreboding. It’s always treading into territory we’ve seen trafficked by like-minded storytellers before. And we already know that it never ends well.
Because I’d seen so much of it before elsewhere, I thought the film grew increasingly difficult to celebrate even those things I usually do in psychological dramas of this variety.
While Køhnke’s work as the broken soul teetering between sanity and something vastly worse is occasionally impressive, director Jesper Isaksen never quite fleshes out anything else (other than some fabulous visuals) to richen the pot or for his actor to do. Everything in here revolves around his fragile and flawed personality, so nothing can be taken at face value. If you know that your narrator isn’t to be trusted, then there’s functionally no mystery as to what happened except for those particulars being withheld by screenwriting convention (also Isaksen’s job here). While some might see the actor’s work as demonstrating a great technical range, I didn’t because Køhnke spends moments either in sullen depression or barely reserved explosive intensity, leaving little to no room for anything further even in the quietest of moments. He was always in one mental state or the other, so where’s the range in that?
Charly is grounded at times with a burgeoning less-than-wholesome relationship with the free-spirited Felicija (Siff Andersson), a hotel clerk smitten as much by wanderlust as she is by altered states of consciousness. Though she shares her lover’s appetite for illicit substances, she still insists there’s a better life out there (over the rainbow?) in the big city; and she’s willing to pick up and chase that dream in a moment’s notice. In ways, Felicija is Charly – maybe an earlier version of him – but in a vastly more attractive and cogent package. I kept wondering if she, too, held some dark secret, but thankfully Isaksen used her more as a token demonstration of innocence lost or found, strongly implying she might become a victim of circumstance before this trip was over. (On that point, I’ll let you make up your own mind.)
Where I start to diverge from the popular critical consensus here is that where others found Victim’s endless parade of hallucinatory visuals supportive of the narrative, I thought they were more intrusive and a bit too obvious. Yes, they’re very, very, very good – there’s some incredible use of colors and angles and setting in here that really push the cinematography to another level, evoking a dour if not spectrally oppressive mood with incredible ease – but because they’re so pervasive they lose a bit of their utility in the process. It starts to all feel forced upon me, consciously willing me to see things only one way, and that way is the most evident. Constantly reminding the audience that you’re trapped within a surreal nightmare at every turn eventually wears the premise thin if not through completely: where other directors might’ve used a bit of restraint, Isaksen seems beholden to layering them atop one another incessantly almost as if that’s all there is … and nothing in life could be further from the truth. Pulling back a bit – allowing normalcy to return if even for small moments – might’ve given the onscreen talent and their respective work more time to resonate by itself. Instead, this one was full speed ahead for too much of the time.
Because I’d seen so much of it before elsewhere, I thought the film grew increasingly difficult to celebrate even those things I usually do in psychological dramas of this variety.
While Køhnke’s work as the broken soul teetering between sanity and something vastly worse is occasionally impressive, director Jesper Isaksen never quite fleshes out anything else (other than some fabulous visuals) to richen the pot or for his actor to do. Everything in here revolves around his fragile and flawed personality, so nothing can be taken at face value. If you know that your narrator isn’t to be trusted, then there’s functionally no mystery as to what happened except for those particulars being withheld by screenwriting convention (also Isaksen’s job here). While some might see the actor’s work as demonstrating a great technical range, I didn’t because Køhnke spends moments either in sullen depression or barely reserved explosive intensity, leaving little to no room for anything further even in the quietest of moments. He was always in one mental state or the other, so where’s the range in that?
Charly is grounded at times with a burgeoning less-than-wholesome relationship with the free-spirited Felicija (Siff Andersson), a hotel clerk smitten as much by wanderlust as she is by altered states of consciousness. Though she shares her lover’s appetite for illicit substances, she still insists there’s a better life out there (over the rainbow?) in the big city; and she’s willing to pick up and chase that dream in a moment’s notice. In ways, Felicija is Charly – maybe an earlier version of him – but in a vastly more attractive and cogent package. I kept wondering if she, too, held some dark secret, but thankfully Isaksen used her more as a token demonstration of innocence lost or found, strongly implying she might become a victim of circumstance before this trip was over. (On that point, I’ll let you make up your own mind.)
Where I start to diverge from the popular critical consensus here is that where others found Victim’s endless parade of hallucinatory visuals supportive of the narrative, I thought they were more intrusive and a bit too obvious. Yes, they’re very, very, very good – there’s some incredible use of colors and angles and setting in here that really push the cinematography to another level, evoking a dour if not spectrally oppressive mood with incredible ease – but because they’re so pervasive they lose a bit of their utility in the process. It starts to all feel forced upon me, consciously willing me to see things only one way, and that way is the most evident. Constantly reminding the audience that you’re trapped within a surreal nightmare at every turn eventually wears the premise thin if not through completely: where other directors might’ve used a bit of restraint, Isaksen seems beholden to layering them atop one another incessantly almost as if that’s all there is … and nothing in life could be further from the truth. Pulling back a bit – allowing normalcy to return if even for small moments – might’ve given the onscreen talent and their respective work more time to resonate by itself. Instead, this one was full speed ahead for too much of the time.
Lastly, Victim actually breaks the fourth wall with the audience on two occasions that I recall (there may’ve been a third, depending upon one’s perception of what happened, but I’ll ignore it for expediency’s sake). I’m always cautious about spoilers because I do like to preserve some of the delivered screen magic for those who might check something out based on my reviews, so this one is a bit difficult to discuss at length. Suffice it to say, I – as a viewer – am spoken to directly; and I’m just not a fan of such narrative trickery, especially if it serves no authentic purpose. In these two sequences, the film grinds to a halt to deliver a kinda/sorta aside that I believe Isaksen may’ve believed was in keeping of his character; but it didn’t work for me at all. What was learned was insignificant – marginal speechifying, at best – and their inclusion cheapened a good story that didn’t need the distraction all for the sake of doing something artsy.
Nonetheless, I’d be remiss in my duties of cataloguing All Things Genre if I failed to point out that Victim is a highly celebrated film in circles that matter to filmdom. It’s largely been a darling on the film festival circuit; and I’ve written before how some of those features truly do have a life of their own amongst those who attend them. (Hint: regular folks like you and me usually don’t embrace these various entries as feverishly or as fervently.) Allow me to politely say that this one feels like it was made for such academics who put a great deal of thought, debate, and mental posturing into such wares; and there’s nothing wrong with that. Where I differ with them typically is I see some of the finished sequences as being overdone, ultimately getting in the way of my appreciating the flick as much as they do.
Like minds don’t always agree, nor must they. I support a world that’s always to each his own.
Victim Of Love (2019) was produced by Bleed For This Picture and Mamba. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at Warner Archive. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert … just wow. The film honestly looks fabulous from start-to-finish with colors either popping or simmering depending upon their usage; and the minimal use of Special and/or practical effects is very, very, very solid. Several of the sequences boast some cinematography that’ll give ‘those who like it’ something to mull over, so be prepared if that’s your thing to put in a bit of extra effort. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? Sigh. Sadly, there’s nothing more than some associated music videos along with a handful of previews for other films … a huge miss, if you ask this cineaste.
Alas … only Mildly Recommended.
Without a doubt, there’s an audience for Victim Of Love (2019), but it might not exactly be those for which it was intended. While its visuals are arguably stylish enough to stand alongside any that have appeared in the realm of Psychological Horror and/or art-house Slasher entries, the story – i.e. its narrative substance – remains exceedingly light and downright predictable at every step along the way. Performances are interesting, and yet if you already know where it’s heading then they, too, lack the polish to be anything revelatory. Don’t misunderstand: the two leads provide great dramatic counterparts. Still, nothing can replace the fact that it’s easy to see where it’s all heading, and the fact alone robs them truly breaking the mold for what’s possible in this unique sub-genre of storytelling.
In the interest of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Warner Archive provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of Victim Of Love (2019) 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
Nonetheless, I’d be remiss in my duties of cataloguing All Things Genre if I failed to point out that Victim is a highly celebrated film in circles that matter to filmdom. It’s largely been a darling on the film festival circuit; and I’ve written before how some of those features truly do have a life of their own amongst those who attend them. (Hint: regular folks like you and me usually don’t embrace these various entries as feverishly or as fervently.) Allow me to politely say that this one feels like it was made for such academics who put a great deal of thought, debate, and mental posturing into such wares; and there’s nothing wrong with that. Where I differ with them typically is I see some of the finished sequences as being overdone, ultimately getting in the way of my appreciating the flick as much as they do.
Like minds don’t always agree, nor must they. I support a world that’s always to each his own.
Victim Of Love (2019) was produced by Bleed For This Picture and Mamba. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at Warner Archive. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert … just wow. The film honestly looks fabulous from start-to-finish with colors either popping or simmering depending upon their usage; and the minimal use of Special and/or practical effects is very, very, very solid. Several of the sequences boast some cinematography that’ll give ‘those who like it’ something to mull over, so be prepared if that’s your thing to put in a bit of extra effort. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? Sigh. Sadly, there’s nothing more than some associated music videos along with a handful of previews for other films … a huge miss, if you ask this cineaste.
Alas … only Mildly Recommended.
Without a doubt, there’s an audience for Victim Of Love (2019), but it might not exactly be those for which it was intended. While its visuals are arguably stylish enough to stand alongside any that have appeared in the realm of Psychological Horror and/or art-house Slasher entries, the story – i.e. its narrative substance – remains exceedingly light and downright predictable at every step along the way. Performances are interesting, and yet if you already know where it’s heading then they, too, lack the polish to be anything revelatory. Don’t misunderstand: the two leads provide great dramatic counterparts. Still, nothing can replace the fact that it’s easy to see where it’s all heading, and the fact alone robs them truly breaking the mold for what’s possible in this unique sub-genre of storytelling.
In the interest of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Warner Archive provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of Victim Of Love (2019) 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
Once more for the record, folks: I enjoy found footage format films.
I know, I know, I know. Many of you don’t. I know, I know, I know. I’ve heard all of the reasons. Yes, I agree that they can be difficult to watch, what with the constant herky jerky camera movements. Yes, I accept that the stories are sometimes a bit thin and lacking in greater structure owed to the nature of relying only on what’s seen and said. And, yes, I’ll even concede that they do most often tend to have much less emphasis on production values than conventional flicks as they can be shot just about anywhere, anytime, whenever the spirit moves the cast and crew. Still, I’ll always insist that when they’re done right, they can retain a freshness that other projects have to manufacture; it won’t happen every time, but – when it does – it’s about as close to authentic movie magic as is still possible in the age of practical effects. For me, that still says something, so I’m sticking to my guns.
Of course, there are downsides to the theatrical trend that go beyond the logical arguments; and perhaps the single greatest is that far too many storytellers think they’re creating a found footage film when – in reality – nothing could be further from the truth. Instead, what these mythmakers produce is something that only casually bears all the hallmarks of found footage but is clearly edited together from multiple camera angles, very obvious scene breaks, and (gasp!) contains title cards indicating something of value for the viewers. Sorry, readers, but when these things show up in what’s alleged to be found footage then the fourth wall is effectively broken, and the result should not be considered amongst the better entries that stick to the rules. (I didn’t make the rules, but I’m one who maintains nothing but respect for adhering to them.)
The end result of such confusion between the proper narrative structure and what others have thrown into the mix doesn’t serve the trend in any positive fashion; and that’s my initial critical take on 2014’s The Taking Of Deborah Logan. This Horror/Drama from Adam Robitel (who directed) and Gavin Heffernan is one of those productions that’s been long promoted to me from friends and online acquaintances – the ones who share that fondness for found footage. While they’re certainly correct in suggesting that this Taking has a bit of what’s suggested to be found footage in there, I’d push back and say that it has equally as much other stuff (don’t worry, I’ll get to that later) that belies an assembly sufficient enough to assign it to the sub-genre. But don’t let me suggest that’s a weakness to the story because (again) that’s far from it. Here, I think it’s a strength, and it’s a shame not everyone involved saw what I saw and maybe went in for a bit more.
(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 prefer 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 …)
I know, I know, I know. Many of you don’t. I know, I know, I know. I’ve heard all of the reasons. Yes, I agree that they can be difficult to watch, what with the constant herky jerky camera movements. Yes, I accept that the stories are sometimes a bit thin and lacking in greater structure owed to the nature of relying only on what’s seen and said. And, yes, I’ll even concede that they do most often tend to have much less emphasis on production values than conventional flicks as they can be shot just about anywhere, anytime, whenever the spirit moves the cast and crew. Still, I’ll always insist that when they’re done right, they can retain a freshness that other projects have to manufacture; it won’t happen every time, but – when it does – it’s about as close to authentic movie magic as is still possible in the age of practical effects. For me, that still says something, so I’m sticking to my guns.
Of course, there are downsides to the theatrical trend that go beyond the logical arguments; and perhaps the single greatest is that far too many storytellers think they’re creating a found footage film when – in reality – nothing could be further from the truth. Instead, what these mythmakers produce is something that only casually bears all the hallmarks of found footage but is clearly edited together from multiple camera angles, very obvious scene breaks, and (gasp!) contains title cards indicating something of value for the viewers. Sorry, readers, but when these things show up in what’s alleged to be found footage then the fourth wall is effectively broken, and the result should not be considered amongst the better entries that stick to the rules. (I didn’t make the rules, but I’m one who maintains nothing but respect for adhering to them.)
The end result of such confusion between the proper narrative structure and what others have thrown into the mix doesn’t serve the trend in any positive fashion; and that’s my initial critical take on 2014’s The Taking Of Deborah Logan. This Horror/Drama from Adam Robitel (who directed) and Gavin Heffernan is one of those productions that’s been long promoted to me from friends and online acquaintances – the ones who share that fondness for found footage. While they’re certainly correct in suggesting that this Taking has a bit of what’s suggested to be found footage in there, I’d push back and say that it has equally as much other stuff (don’t worry, I’ll get to that later) that belies an assembly sufficient enough to assign it to the sub-genre. But don’t let me suggest that’s a weakness to the story because (again) that’s far from it. Here, I think it’s a strength, and it’s a shame not everyone involved saw what I saw and maybe went in for a bit more.
(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 prefer 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:
“What starts as a poignant medical documentary about Deborah Logan's descent into Alzheimer's disease and her daughter's struggles as caregiver degenerates into a maddening portrayal of dementia at its most frightening, as hair-raising events begin to plague the family and crew and an unspeakable malevolence threatens to tear the very fabric of sanity from them all.”
All stories begin with the crux of a good idea, and The Taking Of Deborah Logan is no different.
Some may disagree, but I believe that what screenwriters Robitel and Heffernan intended to be the core to their spectral yarn was the huge misdirection: an elderly woman (played deftly Jill Larson) showing the classic early symptoms of an aggressive Alzheimer’s bout is actually struggling with an equally destructive case of demonic possession. By tugging at the heartstrings of the audience with something conventional, the writers have delivered a bit of screen magic because they’ve taken a few of the necessary steps to grow our fondness for their fragile lead … only then to pull the rug out from under all of us with footage of Ms. Logan trying to literally ingest the soul of a young victim in the final act.
Clever. Very clever.
However, there’s a bit more enchantment for those of us who prefer tales unconventionally: while initially setting the stage for The Taking to resemble a loose found footage framework, the makers take steps further by assembling sections of what would’ve been the completed project that budding documentarian Mia Medina (Michelle Ang) set out to do in bringing all of these characters together in the first place. Where the seams start to fray just a bit in the second half is when director Robitel necessarily resorts to incorporating even more points-of-view (i.e. hospital security cameras, hallway monitors, etc.) in order to continuing both expanding the central plotline as well as ramping up the jump scares. Without a doubt, it should be crystal clear to anyone in the audience at that point that we’ve left the confines of the found footage category far behind, and we’ve stepped into the land of pure narrative make believe where rules don’t really matter.
Initially, I’ll admit that bugged me because – as a viewer and a critic – I take great pains to remain focused on the perspective. I’ve also argued that it matters to me in knowing who is telling the story. With found footage, it’s left almost entirely in the hands of the characters, which is why I do enjoy them to a large extent. With all other assemblies, the results are functionally in the hands of the director. When formats are mixed in such a way, I think the finished product wind up feeling increasingly artificial – those magicians are working their sleight of hand making sure you’re watching precisely where they want you to instead of what’s truly happening elsewhere – and the whole affair gets a bit cheapened in the process.
Nevertheless …
“What starts as a poignant medical documentary about Deborah Logan's descent into Alzheimer's disease and her daughter's struggles as caregiver degenerates into a maddening portrayal of dementia at its most frightening, as hair-raising events begin to plague the family and crew and an unspeakable malevolence threatens to tear the very fabric of sanity from them all.”
All stories begin with the crux of a good idea, and The Taking Of Deborah Logan is no different.
Some may disagree, but I believe that what screenwriters Robitel and Heffernan intended to be the core to their spectral yarn was the huge misdirection: an elderly woman (played deftly Jill Larson) showing the classic early symptoms of an aggressive Alzheimer’s bout is actually struggling with an equally destructive case of demonic possession. By tugging at the heartstrings of the audience with something conventional, the writers have delivered a bit of screen magic because they’ve taken a few of the necessary steps to grow our fondness for their fragile lead … only then to pull the rug out from under all of us with footage of Ms. Logan trying to literally ingest the soul of a young victim in the final act.
Clever. Very clever.
However, there’s a bit more enchantment for those of us who prefer tales unconventionally: while initially setting the stage for The Taking to resemble a loose found footage framework, the makers take steps further by assembling sections of what would’ve been the completed project that budding documentarian Mia Medina (Michelle Ang) set out to do in bringing all of these characters together in the first place. Where the seams start to fray just a bit in the second half is when director Robitel necessarily resorts to incorporating even more points-of-view (i.e. hospital security cameras, hallway monitors, etc.) in order to continuing both expanding the central plotline as well as ramping up the jump scares. Without a doubt, it should be crystal clear to anyone in the audience at that point that we’ve left the confines of the found footage category far behind, and we’ve stepped into the land of pure narrative make believe where rules don’t really matter.
Initially, I’ll admit that bugged me because – as a viewer and a critic – I take great pains to remain focused on the perspective. I’ve also argued that it matters to me in knowing who is telling the story. With found footage, it’s left almost entirely in the hands of the characters, which is why I do enjoy them to a large extent. With all other assemblies, the results are functionally in the hands of the director. When formats are mixed in such a way, I think the finished product wind up feeling increasingly artificial – those magicians are working their sleight of hand making sure you’re watching precisely where they want you to instead of what’s truly happening elsewhere – and the whole affair gets a bit cheapened in the process.
Nevertheless …
I ended up really enjoying The Taking’s overall vibe.
While some might find this insulting, the whole story felt like a quilt with some squares being thrown into the mix because they looked better even though they might’ve clashed a bit with colorful others. By rather efficiently trimming a bit from the purported documentary and spinning a few smaller sequences within the traditional found footage set-up and even pouring it a bit of conventional filmmaking (there’s a fabulous mystery to its center), The Taking managed to chart out an interesting and compelling personal story drawn up against the fabric of an effective possession tale. I didn’t expect them to go together so well; and, yet, here we are. The foundation held. It kept my interest. It gave me a few chills. And it even posited a few alternatives worth thinking about. That’s a winning concoction, and I think all involved should be applauded.
Taking it a step further, I’d even suggest that, perhaps, everyone in the cast and crew maybe even got it wrong in the inception process.
There was enough dramatic substance along with the potential for a few expanded relationships only hinted at in here that this dark tale could’ve gone on much, much longer. While I’ll concede that – as a Horror feature – it easily fits the bill of reaching that damn exquisite 90-minute running time, The Taking still ended and left me wanting to spend more time with its characters and circumstances. Circumstantially, it reminded me of HBO’s relatively recent adaptation of the Stephen King novel, The Outsider (2020), which brilliantly took ten episodes to explore how a supernatural presence weaved its way into a small town and beset regular folk with some extraordinary events, shattering the foundation of how they saw themselves and the world around them. The Taking had that same vibe, and it raised questions about a few of its players in such a way that more could’ve followed.
Who knows?
Maybe in a few years, someone – maybe even the original creators here – will dust this off and realize the potential. They’ll pick it up and sell the premise to Netflix, Amazon, or some other streaming service. They’ll bring an all-new cast together and rediscover the magic. In the meantime, this 90-minute version never hurt anyone.
While some might find this insulting, the whole story felt like a quilt with some squares being thrown into the mix because they looked better even though they might’ve clashed a bit with colorful others. By rather efficiently trimming a bit from the purported documentary and spinning a few smaller sequences within the traditional found footage set-up and even pouring it a bit of conventional filmmaking (there’s a fabulous mystery to its center), The Taking managed to chart out an interesting and compelling personal story drawn up against the fabric of an effective possession tale. I didn’t expect them to go together so well; and, yet, here we are. The foundation held. It kept my interest. It gave me a few chills. And it even posited a few alternatives worth thinking about. That’s a winning concoction, and I think all involved should be applauded.
Taking it a step further, I’d even suggest that, perhaps, everyone in the cast and crew maybe even got it wrong in the inception process.
There was enough dramatic substance along with the potential for a few expanded relationships only hinted at in here that this dark tale could’ve gone on much, much longer. While I’ll concede that – as a Horror feature – it easily fits the bill of reaching that damn exquisite 90-minute running time, The Taking still ended and left me wanting to spend more time with its characters and circumstances. Circumstantially, it reminded me of HBO’s relatively recent adaptation of the Stephen King novel, The Outsider (2020), which brilliantly took ten episodes to explore how a supernatural presence weaved its way into a small town and beset regular folk with some extraordinary events, shattering the foundation of how they saw themselves and the world around them. The Taking had that same vibe, and it raised questions about a few of its players in such a way that more could’ve followed.
Who knows?
Maybe in a few years, someone – maybe even the original creators here – will dust this off and realize the potential. They’ll pick it up and sell the premise to Netflix, Amazon, or some other streaming service. They’ll bring an all-new cast together and rediscover the magic. In the meantime, this 90-minute version never hurt anyone.
The Taking Of Deborah Logan (2014) was produced by Bad Hat Harry Productions, Jeff Rice Films, Casadelic Pictures, and Guerin-Adler-Scott Pictures. Based on a quick Google.com search, the production is available for streaming purchase via a variety of platforms. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I found the provided sights-and-sounds to be exceptional from start-to-finish … and, yes, the found footage stuff can be a little taxing here and there. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? As I viewed this one streaming online, there were no special features under consideration.
Strongly Recommended.
To be frank, I think that those folks who’ve been clamoring to have The Taking Of Deborah Logan (2014) embraced as a found footage gem have actually done a bit of disservice to the completed effort: like so many imitators, The Taking only uses that structure in a few spots – mainly for producing the requisite atmosphere along with some serviceable jump scares – and otherwise clings to more orthodox narratives. Still, because the film is like a stew that throws a little bit of everything in there, it manages to achieve a wonderful sense of foreboding lesser flicks only hope to reach. The personal and the paranormal blend in ways that make Deborah Logan no different than someone in your family or social circle … and that prospect alone puts you well on the road to being freaked out when dark forces come a’callin’.
In the interest of fairness, I’m beholden to no one for this review of The Taking Of Deborah Logan (2014) as I viewed it via my very own subscription to Amazon Prime Video.
-- EZ
Strongly Recommended.
To be frank, I think that those folks who’ve been clamoring to have The Taking Of Deborah Logan (2014) embraced as a found footage gem have actually done a bit of disservice to the completed effort: like so many imitators, The Taking only uses that structure in a few spots – mainly for producing the requisite atmosphere along with some serviceable jump scares – and otherwise clings to more orthodox narratives. Still, because the film is like a stew that throws a little bit of everything in there, it manages to achieve a wonderful sense of foreboding lesser flicks only hope to reach. The personal and the paranormal blend in ways that make Deborah Logan no different than someone in your family or social circle … and that prospect alone puts you well on the road to being freaked out when dark forces come a’callin’.
In the interest of fairness, I’m beholden to no one for this review of The Taking Of Deborah Logan (2014) as I viewed it via my very own subscription to Amazon Prime Video.
-- EZ
- Published on
There have been an astonishing number of motion pictures exploring the various ways in which our world – from our efforts or not – will come to its collective doom.
Some might say that we have The Bible to thank for that, what with that seminal book having been written a few millennia ago and threatening each and every one of us with an Apocalypse of Biblical proportions. Naturally, the entertainment industry had to cash in on the phenomenon; and a quick Google.com search shows that over a century ago 1916’s Verdens Undergang – aka The End Of The World, aka The Flaming Sword – first gave audiences a look at ‘The End’ compliments to a comet passing much too closely to our world for good measure. Of course, there have been far too many to mention since that time; and the only real wrinkle in the cosmic fabric has been that the causes leading up to our expiration has expanded to include other natural disasters, unforeseen religious events, technology failures, man-made diseases, monster attacks, alien invasions, and even – ahem – global climate change. Mind you: as we get later into this century and into the next, creative minds will likely come up with a few more, so it pays to always stay buckled up.
Still, one needn’t be a Mad Max to realize that because this subset of Science Fiction films continues to be popular there will be more of them; and that’s what’s on the agenda for today’s discourse. 2024’s Cora – a sometimes SciFi, sometimes military thriller hybrid – springs from the fertile imaginations of screenwriters Sonny Laguna, David Liljeblad, and Tommy Wiklund with Laguna and Wiklund also pairing up for director responsibilities. This rather dour tour of duty stars Sanne Broström, Christian Bitar, Thomas Lennon, Andreas Rylander, and Felicia Rylander in significant roles; and before all is said and done audiences might find themselves scratching their heads over whether this particular ride through our last days was truly one worth taking.
(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 …)
Some might say that we have The Bible to thank for that, what with that seminal book having been written a few millennia ago and threatening each and every one of us with an Apocalypse of Biblical proportions. Naturally, the entertainment industry had to cash in on the phenomenon; and a quick Google.com search shows that over a century ago 1916’s Verdens Undergang – aka The End Of The World, aka The Flaming Sword – first gave audiences a look at ‘The End’ compliments to a comet passing much too closely to our world for good measure. Of course, there have been far too many to mention since that time; and the only real wrinkle in the cosmic fabric has been that the causes leading up to our expiration has expanded to include other natural disasters, unforeseen religious events, technology failures, man-made diseases, monster attacks, alien invasions, and even – ahem – global climate change. Mind you: as we get later into this century and into the next, creative minds will likely come up with a few more, so it pays to always stay buckled up.
Still, one needn’t be a Mad Max to realize that because this subset of Science Fiction films continues to be popular there will be more of them; and that’s what’s on the agenda for today’s discourse. 2024’s Cora – a sometimes SciFi, sometimes military thriller hybrid – springs from the fertile imaginations of screenwriters Sonny Laguna, David Liljeblad, and Tommy Wiklund with Laguna and Wiklund also pairing up for director responsibilities. This rather dour tour of duty stars Sanne Broström, Christian Bitar, Thomas Lennon, Andreas Rylander, and Felicia Rylander in significant roles; and before all is said and done audiences might find themselves scratching their heads over whether this particular ride through our last days was truly one worth taking.
(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:
“After a deadly mist has wiped out most of humanity, a mysterious organisation is trying to save what's left of humankind.”
There’s an ambiguity to Cora that I need to address right away.
You see, for all intents and purposes our world has gone to crap. Now, in fairness, we don’t see all of it – what story there is in here revolves around only a handful of players across a very limited landscape – so perhaps there’s more out there that survived. While I wouldn’t be even cautiously optimistic about those chances, it’s still safe to conclude that Laguna, Wiklund, and Liljeblad’s story never makes it perfectly clear just how far and wide the devastation of our world from this phantom mist which now inhabits our atmosphere stretches, nor convincingly where it came from. Because those blanks are never filled in, I’m accepting this yarn as is … and – ahem – it has a good degree of blemishes to overcome along the way. There’s a bit of radio chitchat in the opening segments, but it’s so poorly modulated I couldn’t make head nor tails of it.
Further muddying the waters (as they say), we’re introduced to Cora (played by Felicia Rylander) without a great degree of context. She’s apparently one of the survivors living out her days in some experimental bunker – one that’s been resupplied by aerial drones for years – and as part of her duties she not only maintains peak physical fitness but keeps measuring the various gauges and instruments spread around her non-descript subterranean hideout and providing updates via some light computer technology. She could be a scientist. She could be a soldier. She is armed, and she’s forever frustrated that the machinery seems to be respectably fragile; and yet that’s all we really know about her and her circumstances. That, my friends, is pretty slim pickings.
Eventually, we see her go out and about in what’s left of the world outside, and it’s exceptionally grim. Largely, we see devastation – factories collapsed, cars totaled in open fields, houses decrepit, etc. – and it becomes clear something catastrophic has led to the fall of man. While there are some suggestions linking it all to this pervasive fog, the viewers are still left to fill in the holes, not that such information matters all that much. Basically, the creators have concocted this world in which Cora is our only connection; and on that front we take these narrative baby steps.
“After a deadly mist has wiped out most of humanity, a mysterious organisation is trying to save what's left of humankind.”
There’s an ambiguity to Cora that I need to address right away.
You see, for all intents and purposes our world has gone to crap. Now, in fairness, we don’t see all of it – what story there is in here revolves around only a handful of players across a very limited landscape – so perhaps there’s more out there that survived. While I wouldn’t be even cautiously optimistic about those chances, it’s still safe to conclude that Laguna, Wiklund, and Liljeblad’s story never makes it perfectly clear just how far and wide the devastation of our world from this phantom mist which now inhabits our atmosphere stretches, nor convincingly where it came from. Because those blanks are never filled in, I’m accepting this yarn as is … and – ahem – it has a good degree of blemishes to overcome along the way. There’s a bit of radio chitchat in the opening segments, but it’s so poorly modulated I couldn’t make head nor tails of it.
Further muddying the waters (as they say), we’re introduced to Cora (played by Felicia Rylander) without a great degree of context. She’s apparently one of the survivors living out her days in some experimental bunker – one that’s been resupplied by aerial drones for years – and as part of her duties she not only maintains peak physical fitness but keeps measuring the various gauges and instruments spread around her non-descript subterranean hideout and providing updates via some light computer technology. She could be a scientist. She could be a soldier. She is armed, and she’s forever frustrated that the machinery seems to be respectably fragile; and yet that’s all we really know about her and her circumstances. That, my friends, is pretty slim pickings.
Eventually, we see her go out and about in what’s left of the world outside, and it’s exceptionally grim. Largely, we see devastation – factories collapsed, cars totaled in open fields, houses decrepit, etc. – and it becomes clear something catastrophic has led to the fall of man. While there are some suggestions linking it all to this pervasive fog, the viewers are still left to fill in the holes, not that such information matters all that much. Basically, the creators have concocted this world in which Cora is our only connection; and on that front we take these narrative baby steps.
Thankfully, it isn’t all that long before Cora decides – with the failure of her bunker’s network – to venture to the next science station on foot. Once there, she finds that her counterpart – a male – has committed suicide, leaving behind a note that he’s uncovered some secret (never divulged) implying that the company behind all of the stations – Upper Reach (???) – has lied to them all. It’s this little nugget of discovery that inevitably puts Cora on her own search to uncover how far this conspiracy leads though the audience is never quite in sufficiently on their malfeasance for all of it to matter all that much.
Instead, this breakthrough really only serves as yet one more of Science Fiction’s biggest tropes in an already trope-filled existence that is Cora’s 100-minute runtime. Naturally, the conspiracy has layers, Cora herself is involved in it, mankind’s survivors don’t seem to give a damn about anything, Those left behind are largely thrown back to the Stone Age – albeit ammunition seems to always be in ample supply – and the sum total of what adventure there is in here is little more than the usual ‘battle for survival’ against directionless adversaries who’ll stop at nothing to kill or be killed in the race to the big finish. Since this has been done before, I’m not certain why anyone involved felt it needed to be done again; but kudos to all involved for giving it an admirable go. The Apocalypse ain’t easy to produce, and it’s even harder to do with little to no budget. I suspect not much was spent on this act of desperation, and it shows.
As a huge fan of Science Fiction in general, I still managed to find little snippets of joy exploring this dark aftermath.
Rylander is reasonably good here and there. There is a bit of a secret to her background but come the big finish I’m not all that sure that her ‘difference’ even really mattered. A few scenes are hampered by poor sound work. There’s the added requirement that the vast majority of dialogue take place via radios (since the air is contaminated) so those sequences are robbed of any emotional resonance as faces are obscured by masks and the audio was obviously augmented in post-production. Infrequently, there is some interesting cinematography brought in to punctuate the sheer hopelessness of what resembles extinction; but far too much of the feature gets weighed down by predictable camera angles and bland shot set-ups. A bit of variety might’ve spiced up the cinematic palate: it’s an Apocalypse, true, but it needn’t always look like one, you know. A tighter script – one that perhaps more strongly spelled out Cora’s desire other than having her computer turned back on – might’ve also made this one even modestly more special than it is; but it’s hard to tell given the lack of a central antagonist except for the usual nihilists who always seem to make it into the casts of these pictures.
Complicating matters a bit more is the fact that the script never quite explains how Cora was able to survive for as long as she did. At one point, we learn that the company completely ended its business of trying to salvage our world from this blight and went off in a completely different direction. Well, how was it the supply train of aerial drones was never deactivated? With the remaining resources dwindling in the process, are we supposed to blindly accept that no one would've diverted those goods and services elsewhere? Are we to accept that scavengers wouldn't have looted these warehouses for any single morsel of food, water, or clothing? There's a huge gaping hole left with the absence of any explanation, and I can't help but wonder if something was left on the cutting room floor that might've answered that query and made perfect sense.
Instead, this breakthrough really only serves as yet one more of Science Fiction’s biggest tropes in an already trope-filled existence that is Cora’s 100-minute runtime. Naturally, the conspiracy has layers, Cora herself is involved in it, mankind’s survivors don’t seem to give a damn about anything, Those left behind are largely thrown back to the Stone Age – albeit ammunition seems to always be in ample supply – and the sum total of what adventure there is in here is little more than the usual ‘battle for survival’ against directionless adversaries who’ll stop at nothing to kill or be killed in the race to the big finish. Since this has been done before, I’m not certain why anyone involved felt it needed to be done again; but kudos to all involved for giving it an admirable go. The Apocalypse ain’t easy to produce, and it’s even harder to do with little to no budget. I suspect not much was spent on this act of desperation, and it shows.
As a huge fan of Science Fiction in general, I still managed to find little snippets of joy exploring this dark aftermath.
Rylander is reasonably good here and there. There is a bit of a secret to her background but come the big finish I’m not all that sure that her ‘difference’ even really mattered. A few scenes are hampered by poor sound work. There’s the added requirement that the vast majority of dialogue take place via radios (since the air is contaminated) so those sequences are robbed of any emotional resonance as faces are obscured by masks and the audio was obviously augmented in post-production. Infrequently, there is some interesting cinematography brought in to punctuate the sheer hopelessness of what resembles extinction; but far too much of the feature gets weighed down by predictable camera angles and bland shot set-ups. A bit of variety might’ve spiced up the cinematic palate: it’s an Apocalypse, true, but it needn’t always look like one, you know. A tighter script – one that perhaps more strongly spelled out Cora’s desire other than having her computer turned back on – might’ve also made this one even modestly more special than it is; but it’s hard to tell given the lack of a central antagonist except for the usual nihilists who always seem to make it into the casts of these pictures.
Complicating matters a bit more is the fact that the script never quite explains how Cora was able to survive for as long as she did. At one point, we learn that the company completely ended its business of trying to salvage our world from this blight and went off in a completely different direction. Well, how was it the supply train of aerial drones was never deactivated? With the remaining resources dwindling in the process, are we supposed to blindly accept that no one would've diverted those goods and services elsewhere? Are we to accept that scavengers wouldn't have looted these warehouses for any single morsel of food, water, or clothing? There's a huge gaping hole left with the absence of any explanation, and I can't help but wonder if something was left on the cutting room floor that might've answered that query and made perfect sense.
Besides, as the film’s last scene suggests, what’s it all for anyway? If that’s truly the final expression to life as we know it, then why do we even film the story except to remind us of our shared futility? Is there a way for us to transcend our best and worst impulses, or are we forever doomed to galactic obscurity? Sometimes, it’s a question too big to ask; and while there is the smallest of hints (one might argue) that survival remains possible I would’ve hoped the writers and directors might’ve spelled it out succinctly so that we might find a bit of joy in such a small revelation.
Otherwise … what’s the point … especially to art?
Cora (2024) was produced by Stockholm Syndrome Film. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at Black Mandala and Warner Archive. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I found the provided sights-and-sounds to be good in most cases and above average in a few. There’s a great deal of the picture that’s a bit hard to see by design, and I can’t help but wonder if dialing back all of the fog and dimness might’ve actually helped this one convey a stronger sense of purpose. Effects sequences are good at best, though a few could’ve used a bit more polish. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? Erm … this is an odd duck of a release in that I couldn’t get the disc menu to work at all; and – during the closing credits sequence, there were some obvious deleted scenes playing out. Apparently, there’s no way to access them directly so I’ve no way to ascertain whether anything was gained or lost by the exclusion. A bit of a curious choice, if you ask me.
Alas … only Mildly Recommended.
This is the type of film I really, really, really wanted to like, but I ended up feeling no attachment to it whatsoever. My chief problem with Cora (2024) is that – as a story – it goes nowhere, essentially starting and ending in (literally) exactly the same place. Oh, one might argue that there’s a bit of discovery along the way, and, sure, some of that might be interesting; but there’s nothing entirely substantial that’s learned at any single stop along the way. Why, it’s almost like nothing matters in the end. Sadly, Cora is provided no journey to speak of – she bobs and weaves with rather obvious screenwriting invention – and there’s no central message to any of it … well, other than to say a kind of existential oblivion awaits all of us if we’re to continue marching forwarded untethered to the liabilities we create merely as a consequence of living. Doom and gloom pervades once again, and that’s kinda sad if for no other reason than so much of the Apocalypse photographed well.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Warner Archive provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of Cora (2024) 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
Otherwise … what’s the point … especially to art?
Cora (2024) was produced by Stockholm Syndrome Film. DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at Black Mandala and Warner Archive. As for the technical specifications? While I’m no trained video expert, I found the provided sights-and-sounds to be good in most cases and above average in a few. There’s a great deal of the picture that’s a bit hard to see by design, and I can’t help but wonder if dialing back all of the fog and dimness might’ve actually helped this one convey a stronger sense of purpose. Effects sequences are good at best, though a few could’ve used a bit more polish. Lastly, if you’re looking for special features? Erm … this is an odd duck of a release in that I couldn’t get the disc menu to work at all; and – during the closing credits sequence, there were some obvious deleted scenes playing out. Apparently, there’s no way to access them directly so I’ve no way to ascertain whether anything was gained or lost by the exclusion. A bit of a curious choice, if you ask me.
Alas … only Mildly Recommended.
This is the type of film I really, really, really wanted to like, but I ended up feeling no attachment to it whatsoever. My chief problem with Cora (2024) is that – as a story – it goes nowhere, essentially starting and ending in (literally) exactly the same place. Oh, one might argue that there’s a bit of discovery along the way, and, sure, some of that might be interesting; but there’s nothing entirely substantial that’s learned at any single stop along the way. Why, it’s almost like nothing matters in the end. Sadly, Cora is provided no journey to speak of – she bobs and weaves with rather obvious screenwriting invention – and there’s no central message to any of it … well, other than to say a kind of existential oblivion awaits all of us if we’re to continue marching forwarded untethered to the liabilities we create merely as a consequence of living. Doom and gloom pervades once again, and that’s kinda sad if for no other reason than so much of the Apocalypse photographed well.
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Warner Archive provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of Cora (2024) 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
Good afternoon, gentle readers, and I come to you today with a heavy heart as I just read on the World Wide Web of the passing of Ms. Teri Garr.
Oh, my goodness, this lovely lady made me laugh so many times. And, no, this doesn't mean that every role she appeared in was for comic intent. Rather, she made me laugh so, so, so many times with her work aboard Mel Brooks' incredible comedy, Young Frankenstein (1974). While it isn't the funniest of films that I've seen, it's definitely one of those I'd rank in my Top Comedies ever; and it saddens me to know that such a bright light has gone out in the universe.
It's true that Star Trek enthusiasts -- of which I definitely consider myself -- knew that she nearly -- very nearly -- had her very own starring opportunity within Trek: she appeared in the franchise's episode, "Assignment: Earth," which creator Gene Roddenberry intended to be a pilot for a spin-off which would potentially explore alternate timelines within the universe where no one had gone before. Alas, it was never meant to be, and the adventure still serves as a popular one-off within the original timeline, one that gets celebrated every now and then by fandom.
Were there other forays into the realms of the Fantastic?
There sure were, and you can add to the ranks appearances aboard such other projects as Batman, The Girl With Something Extra, Oh God! (1977), Close Encounters Of The Third Kind (1977), Once Upon A Brothers Grimm (1977), Witches' Brew (1980), Faerie Tale Theatre, Tales From The Crypt, Mom And Dad Save The World (1992), Aliens For Breakfast (1995), Michael (1996), Sabrina The Teenage Witch, Batman Beyond: The Movie (1999), Batman Beyond, and Batman Beyond: Return Of The Joker (2000).
Our warmest prayers are extended to the family, friends, and fans of Teri Garr.
May she rest in peace.
-- EZ
Oh, my goodness, this lovely lady made me laugh so many times. And, no, this doesn't mean that every role she appeared in was for comic intent. Rather, she made me laugh so, so, so many times with her work aboard Mel Brooks' incredible comedy, Young Frankenstein (1974). While it isn't the funniest of films that I've seen, it's definitely one of those I'd rank in my Top Comedies ever; and it saddens me to know that such a bright light has gone out in the universe.
It's true that Star Trek enthusiasts -- of which I definitely consider myself -- knew that she nearly -- very nearly -- had her very own starring opportunity within Trek: she appeared in the franchise's episode, "Assignment: Earth," which creator Gene Roddenberry intended to be a pilot for a spin-off which would potentially explore alternate timelines within the universe where no one had gone before. Alas, it was never meant to be, and the adventure still serves as a popular one-off within the original timeline, one that gets celebrated every now and then by fandom.
Were there other forays into the realms of the Fantastic?
There sure were, and you can add to the ranks appearances aboard such other projects as Batman, The Girl With Something Extra, Oh God! (1977), Close Encounters Of The Third Kind (1977), Once Upon A Brothers Grimm (1977), Witches' Brew (1980), Faerie Tale Theatre, Tales From The Crypt, Mom And Dad Save The World (1992), Aliens For Breakfast (1995), Michael (1996), Sabrina The Teenage Witch, Batman Beyond: The Movie (1999), Batman Beyond, and Batman Beyond: Return Of The Joker (2000).
Our warmest prayers are extended to the family, friends, and fans of Teri Garr.
May she rest in peace.
-- EZ
- Published on
Apologies, folks, that there hasn't been a MainPage post in a few days, but this is my wifey's birthday weekend, so I've been away from the house quite a bit the past few days. Don't fret, however, as the normal flow of things should return this Tuesday.
I did want to pop online today as I noticed on the World Wide Web yesterday that word had hit regarding the passing of Star Trek veteran producer Jeri Taylor. Hers might not have been a huge name in certain circles, but I think most die-hard Trek enthusiasts knew of the lady's incredible contribution to the franchise. If memory serves, she joined where no one had gone before not too long into the Next Generation's run, and then she held on through the cruise through the Delta Quadrant that was Voyager. While I was never a huge fan of that particular iteration, I still believe her name was attached to a lot of its better outings.
In fact, I distinctly remember reading and being particularly smitten with her Pathways novel: it was a Voyager adventure that very credibly flashed out the various backgrounds of the crew (in print) and showed how their respective experiences truly added to 'saving the day' in that book. The overall state of Trek fiction being a dire straits (for so much as I care), I'd still give that tome a thumbs up for anyone who wants to read something worthwhile with Janeway and company as it was top notch storytelling.
Our warmest prayers are extended to the family, friends, and fans of Jeri Taylor.
May she rest in peace.
-- EZ
I did want to pop online today as I noticed on the World Wide Web yesterday that word had hit regarding the passing of Star Trek veteran producer Jeri Taylor. Hers might not have been a huge name in certain circles, but I think most die-hard Trek enthusiasts knew of the lady's incredible contribution to the franchise. If memory serves, she joined where no one had gone before not too long into the Next Generation's run, and then she held on through the cruise through the Delta Quadrant that was Voyager. While I was never a huge fan of that particular iteration, I still believe her name was attached to a lot of its better outings.
In fact, I distinctly remember reading and being particularly smitten with her Pathways novel: it was a Voyager adventure that very credibly flashed out the various backgrounds of the crew (in print) and showed how their respective experiences truly added to 'saving the day' in that book. The overall state of Trek fiction being a dire straits (for so much as I care), I'd still give that tome a thumbs up for anyone who wants to read something worthwhile with Janeway and company as it was top notch storytelling.
Our warmest prayers are extended to the family, friends, and fans of Jeri Taylor.
May she rest in peace.
-- EZ