In my youth, a new RoboCop movie was exactly the kind of release I would rush to on the first night it was available to the public-at-large.
 
Why?
 
Well, I just knew it had the kind of big-budget goodness that was best preserved in my memory by viewing it with a crowd.  Big laughs always mean more when shared with an audience.  Exciting, frenetic, mind-blowing action sequences usually draw collective astonishment from the onlookers.  And who doesn’t love applauding the hero when others are present and actively listening?  Now that I’m a bit older (if not a bit more jaded or cynical), I tend to take a week or two before watching such theatrical releases.  These days, I do try to get to a showing that’s fairly light on people.  It isn’t as if I’m anti-social; I’d just rather not risk any undue influence in order to serve up what I feel is a much more honest and more clinical valuation of the film, definitely one not inspired by what the yucksters sitting next to me thought.
 
Sigh.
 
I guess I’m gettin’ old, fans.  But if I can age as nicely as the RoboCop franchise can, then I’m in good company.
 
(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 two paragraphs for my final assessment.  If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
 
From the film’s publicity materials:
“In the city of Detroit circa 2028 (seriously?  Detroit is still around after its financial collapse?), police detective Alex Murphy (played with conviction by Joel Kinnaman) uncovers a criminal conspiracy that looks to implicate some high-ranking officers on his squad.  At the same time, the multinational, war-mongering conglomerate OmniCorp is seeking the right candidate to put inside one of their latest creations – an urban combat suit – in order to expand their domestic sales and corner the market on profits.  When those in Detroit decide Murphy needs to go, billionaire businessman Raymond Sellars (a greedy Michael Keaton) seizes the opportunity to put a part-man, part-robot police officer on the streets.  But what happens when the former cop turned machine decides to investigate his own attempted murder?”
 
Where the original RoboCop (1987) was smart, smart, and smart, this new version is dumb, dumb, and – mostly -- dumb.
 
It comes compliments of director Jose Padilha, relatively still fresh from acclaim rightful earned from his 2010’s Elite Squad 2: The Enemy Within (which, incidentally, is a vastly better film than this is).  1987’s RoboCop script – penned by Edward Neumeier and Michael Miner – was crafted almost with a winking acknowledgement to the audience: don’t take any of this any more seriously as you need to, and you’re likely to have a helluva lotta fun with it.  The violence was gory and (I’ll admit it) gloriously gratuitous because that kind of visual flair lent itself nicely to their intended aesthetic of the picture.  Structurally, it had similarities to the great American Western – a lone gunman seeks to clean up a corrupt town – though there were some obvious swipes at capitalism, the ultimate ‘bad guy’ in anything churned out by Hollyweird in the past half century.
 
While still being vastly superior to the RoboCop sequels that followed in the footsteps of the original, this 2014 reboot suffers largely from the singular distinction of being completely unnecessary.
 
It echoes back most of the major talking points of the original film – OmniCorp’s suits are still villainous, though with vastly bloated emphasis on corporate villainy, while Murphy’s family (Abbie Cornish as Clara Murphy, along with young John Paul Ruttan as son David) get real screen time in order to ground the film in what serviced as a stronger ‘humanity’ for audiences.  However, gone is that constantly winking eye; in its place is some forced histrionics dished out by everyone’s favorite foul-mouthed screamer Samuel L. Jackson as some futuristic Fox News wannabe talking head who rarely makes logical arguments.  (He does get a great laugh, though, by casting the U.S. Senate as “pro-crime.”)  I’m guessing filmmakers thought they were aping longtime Fox correspondent Bill O’Reilly, but Jackson comes off more like watered down and occasionally cocaine-fueled Stephen Colbert of Comedy Central fame.
 
Also, the first RoboCop distinguished itself with clever moments of newsroom satire, peppering the screen with visually exciting news stories and interviews that helped lampoon the crime-ridden world of tomorrow.  Unfortunately, scripter Joshua Zetumer’s story never quite figured out how to contemporize that aspect; instead, the screenwriter begins throwing things at the proverbial narrative wall, desperately hoping something might strike the same chord with audiences.  At one point, he even crafts a narrator describing the action taking place on the screen (a device that goes on for far too long and desperately needed a better sound mix than the one provided if producers wanted it to be understood); instead of complementing the film, it ends up creating probably one of the most alarming ‘WTF?’ moments in recent film memory.
 
The new RoboCop isn’t a total failure.  Rather, I see it as a reboot missing more than a few upgrades.
 
Mildly recommended.
 
Like most critics, I suspect the overwhelming question – “Was RoboCop really in need of such a flavorless reboot?” – truly kept me from enjoying this version as a legitimate SciFi offering when director Jose Padilha served up only a competent, CGI-laden action film, one largely intended for our video-game-friendly culture.  Performances work only so far as they’re needed for a video game (doting wife, loyal partner, crooked cop, corporate sleaze, etc.), and the real weakness here was a terminally flawed script that could’ve quite figure out what it wanted to be when it grew up.

​-- EZ

There is absolutely nothing P.C. (that being “politically correct”) about Rock Jocks!
 
Yes, you need to know that going in – or, at least, I think it helps – otherwise you’re liable to turn it off once the real fun starts.  Sure, it’s somewhat pottymouthed.  Maybe somewhat unconventional.  But mark my words: this is exactly the kind of motion picture your teenage son or daughter is likely watching once mom & dad turn off the lights and go to bed.  No, it isn’t pornographic, though certain acts will certainly be alluded to on more than one occasion.  And, yes, it’s a bit rowdy … and bawdy … and raucous … and even downright obnoxious at times.  Heck, this is probably the kind of flick that finds a solid audience at film festivals, comic book conventions, or other SciFi retreats where a good time is had by all because no one is concerned about the ‘appropriateness’ or ‘inappropriateness’ of the subject matter and performances.
 
It’s just movie fun.
 
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and characters.  If you’re the kind of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last three paragraphs for my final assessment.  If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
 
In a top secret location, the U.S. government has been secretly saving the planet since the 1960’s when a downed UFO and its curiously Jesus-looking alien occupant gifted Uncle Sam with the technology to deflect meteors from bombarding our planet.  These heroes are dubbed “Rock Jocks,” and their graveyard shift team is made up of one malcontent after another – the female perfectionist (played by the immeasurably perky Felicia Day); the can’t-get-it-together single dad (Andrew Bowen); the foul-mouthed know-it-all (Justin Chon); the racist foreigner (Gerry Bednob); and the son of the ‘company’ hero (Kevin Wu).  Through in cult film favorites Jason Mewes and Robert Picardo, and you’ve got a nerd’s dream cast to end all dream casts!  Together, they spend the night at odds with one another and the judgmental government bureaucrat sent to shut them down forever … while the grand-daddy of all meteors gets closer and closer!
 
Stop right now …
 
Regular folks?  You probably ain’t gonna like this one.  Rock Jocks is a geek’s comedy, through and through.  A nerdboy’s flick.  A fanboy’s diversion.  It’s exactly the kind of small picture that lights a fire under a very specific community of film lovers and/or pre-pubescent and/or post-pubescent boys (and girls) interested in SciFi, general nerd-dom, video games, and – cough cough – Felicia Day.  If you find yourself fitting comfortably into that unique sub-segment of the general population, then I’d honestly be surprised if you sat through this harmless flick and didn’t at least have as much fun with it as I did.  No, it’ll never change your world; instead, it’ll show you how the disenfranchised of our clique will save it (being “save the world”) as only we could.
 
If you understand half of what I’ve written thus far, then Rock Jocks is for you.  I’m not gonna tell you it’s perfect because it’s not.  Justin Chon’s vile shtick goes on for far too long.  Gerry Bednob is increasingly difficult to understand.  Some of the characters could’ve been fleshed out a bit more, and some of the incessantly clever and/or quirky dialogue could’ve been dialed back just a bit.  Still, this is a pretty smart film – a debut, in fact, written and directed by Paul Seetachitt – and I’ll keep my eyes peeled for more like it.
 
It’s not quite what the doctor ordered, but it’s pretty close all the same.
 
Rock Jocks (2012) is produced by Bright Penny Productions and Intelligent Life Media in association with Dog & Rooster Productions.  DVD distribution is being handled through Cinedigm.  As for the technical specifications, the film looks and sounds fairly solid, though I’ll have to admit that I had some real difficulty in understanding Gerry Bednob when he spoke – it’s a very thick dialect that seriously could’ve been poked fun at with subtitles, but maybe that’s just me.  Lastly, the disc does offer up three very short behind-the-scenes interview segments, spread out across the ensemble cast, and they’re harmless fluff but definitely worth watching if you enjoyed the film as much as I did.
 
Strongly recommended … especially for those of you (like me) who considered yourself card-carrying geeks, nerds, and/or other social misfits.  While some of the performances and/or dialogue is unnecessarily over-the-top, there’s still even more about Rock Jocks to like.  Picking up on an idea started years ago in The Last Starfighter (1984), the hiring entity this time is Uncle Sam!  Only the best and brightest will be recruited to save the planet from being pulverized routinely by space rocks … just don’t look for this group of the best and brightest to always look, dress, think, and behave like the best and brightest.
 
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Cinedigm provided me with a DVD copy of Rock Jocks by request for the expressed purposes of completing this review.

​-- EZ

Though some would tell you otherwise, I’ve long maintained that there’s a certain kind of film made chiefly for a certain type of audience.
 
In many respects, flicks that dominate the schedules of film festivals around the world typically qualify for this definition.  This isn’t to suggest in any way that the makers of these productions and the cast and crews associated don’t wish to be seen by wider audiences; instead, it’s just to clarify that – when all is said and done – the finished product isn’t always the kind of thing that gets embraced outside the festival marketplace.  No one wants to throw away good money on assembling these didactic goodies; it’s just that the audiences who want to watch and wax on about its messages, techniques, and performances are usually the festival-goers.  Though their reach is finite, these viewers still hungry to discover ‘the next big thing’ for our cultural betters, so what better place is there to look than amongst their own?
 
For what it’s worth, I’ve had this sentiment privately agreed to by a small handful of independent filmmakers, the kind of which who have frequented that circuit on a few occasions.  While that may not exactly prove my point, I think it still does imply that festival entries may have an uphill climb when it comes to impressing those who aren’t plunking down a few hundred bucks for the whole weekend engagement.  John Q. Public may not have the same requirements to meet his (or her) entertainment threshold, and he’s a bit more discriminating about throwing cash away on something that may be a waste of his time.  After all, he (or she) works hard for the money …
 
This sentiment – that of a project being conceived and executed entirely for a very specific mindset – overwhelmed me with my time watching A Wounded Fawn.  Everything about it – its premise, its construction, its aesthetic, and damn well its very title – leans decidedly highbrow if not downright scholarly.  While a heavy part of its ninety-minute runtime feels like an intellectual exercise, there’s just not enough meat on them bones (but there is buckets and buckets of blood) to satisfy someone just looking for a visceral escape from reality in the open arms of a traditional Horror haunt.  It does have the right pieces, but it’s packaged in such a way as to demand subservience to ideas not inevitably might prove much too elusive for a knuckle-dragger like me.
 
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters.  If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for my final assessment.  If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
 
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“A serial killer brings an unsuspecting new victim on a weekend getaway to add another body to his ever-growing count.  She’s buying into his faux charms, and he’s eagerly lusting for blood.  What could possibly go wrong?”

Back in 2021, I had the good fortune of watching and review Jakob’s Wife (link) for my friends at RLJE Films.  This modern-day twist on the classic vampire tale starred Horror queen Barbara Crampton as a small-town minister’s wife who succumbs to the dark side, thus creating a hunger within herself that defied satiation.  The wonderful twist to the picture (so far as I saw it) was the fact that her decidedly religious husband Jakob (Larry Fessenden) adheres to the very old school definition of marriage – that being until death do us part – so he finds himself trapped into this descent into evil.  He loves her without question (I mean, have you seen Barbara Crampton?), and he authentically practices what the Bible has him preaching … so ultimately he has no choice but to continue loving her – warts, murder, and all – even at the cost of his immortal soul.  Though the film wasn’t perfect, I found it was perfectly told, and it left the audience wanting more.
 
So I was thrilled at the prospect to watch and review A Wounded Fawn, the latest feature from that same writer/director Travis Stevens.
 
Alas, the outcome this time was far from the same.
 
There’s an awful lot of good in Fawn.  Essentially, it’s a film told with a preamble and two acts.
 
The preamble rather aptly sets up this world, and it’s populated by artists, art enthusiasts, and those employed in related circles.  This set-up introduces us to Bruce Ernst (Josh Ruben), a closet sociopath with a penchant for fine things and bloody murder.  He’s a man that will stop at nothing to possess that which touches his deepest soul – items he describes at beautiful – and, yes, that means he’ll stoop to killing anyone who robs him of that opportunity.   We watch as this smart-dressed man follows home a fellow art auction attendee, concocts a scenario to have her let him into her home, and then kills her in cold blood, all to recover The Wrath Of The Erinyes, a sculpture depicting three Furies from Greek mythology attacking a lone man.
 
What this intro also suggests is that Ernst may or may not be off his rocker.  In the back corridor of the lady’s house, he sees a costumed figure – like something out of an ancient museum piece – bathed in red light.  Is this character truly there, or is this something like a vision in the tortured mind of a depraved man?  Could it be some supernatural spirit drawn mysteriously to this statue he covets, or is it nothing more than the machinations of a broken psyche?  At this point, we don’t know for sure, but – as is always the case with stories of this sort – we proceed with the promise of discovery lying in wait.
 
Act One brings Meredith Tanning (Sarah Lind) into the fold.
 
An art enthusiast and (apparently) museum curator of some kind, she confesses to her pair of friends that she’s finally going away for a long weekend in hopes of a romantic tryst with a new fellow.  At home, she packs her bag – complete with freshly-purchased and deliciously revealing undergarments – and privately celebrates her beau’s arrival.  Lo and behold, we rather quickly learn that the homicidal Ernst is her latest paramour, and the reveal clearly amps up the tension with what now looks to be a weekend of ceremonial bloodletting, though the lady is most definitely unaware.
​

It's here that this new Fawn’s wounds begin to show.
 
For reasons that honestly escape me, Stevens begins to pepper the film with some rather curious developments.  Tanning begins to see things – an angry dog crossing her path on the way to car, the fleeting look at a tortured woman’s face in Ernst’s trunk, shadows suggesting movement in the forest surrounding their secluded cabin – all of which begin to suggest that either the universe is delivering signs that she’s in mounting danger or something else otherworldly is taking place.  It isn’t all that long before Ernst as well is swept up in these somewhat supernatural happenings – lights turning on-and-off of their own accord, even more shadows of movement outside – which only further indicates that these two are far from alone in the wilderness.  Has his gory sacrifices unleashed some esoteric beast into our universe, or is all of this little more than cosmic coincidence?
 
Well, we’re never really given any answers, and – before you know it – Ernst has responded both to the voices in his head and the mysterious figure he’s either summoned or shows up conveniently when he’s feeling violent.  In his demented state, he kills Meredith – or has he? – and sets the stage for the befuddling Act Two.
 
Fawn is a flick that’s hard to talk about without spoiling some of the surprises, but – suffice it to say – Meredith’s “death” isn’t the last we see of her.  It would seem that her demise opens the door to real ‘Twin Peaks’ territory as now Ernst’s three victims – all female – embody the three Furies of his coveted statue while he becomes the fallen male.  (As fate – or a bad script – would have it, we learn rather clumsily in Act One that Meredith was one of the museum workers who ‘valued’ the piece before it could be sent to auction.  Whether or not this truly plays into why Ernst found himself attracted to her – much less how he would’ve known of her association to it – is never clearly spelled out.  It’s just one of Fawn’s rather awkward coincidences.  And there are more.)  Whatever the truth may be, Meredith and her angry sisters in death are back; and, as a consequence, Act Two ends up unspooling as a series of set pieces – staged dialogues between Ernst and these three entities, all with the killer’s increasingly agitated state – giving Fawn the feeling of obvious construction and not an authentic Horror experience.
 
As designed by Stevens and his talented cast and crew, the line between reality and fantasy blurs, but this doesn’t quite serve Fawn the way I think was beneficially intended.
 
Instead of making for a vivid nightmare, it instead confuses the audience which, ultimately, wants to know – in Horror, especially – what’s real and what isn’t.  Frights work best when we know from where they descend; phantasmagoric sequences tend to bog chills down to the detriment of the ride.  While color schemes and clever dialogue and symbolism might be important, viewers aren’t often keen on watching films that require study guides; but Fawn soldiers on, even to the point of occasionally being unwatchable … such is the case with Ernst’s inevitable demise at his own hand – or is it? – playing out over the closing credits … a time when most folks have finished their popcorn and are heading for the exits.  This isn’t ‘thinking for thinking’s sake’ so much as it is continuing to make a point well after one’s already been agreed upon, and it produces the effect of warping an otherwise interesting death over to obvious intellectual bloating.
 
And no one likes bloating.

​A Wounded Fawn (2022) was produced by BarBHouse, Genco Pictures, HorrorHound Films, and Snowfort Pictures.  The film is presently available for streaming on a variety of major platforms including The Roku Channel, Spectrum TV, and Shudder.  As for the technical specifications?  Wow.  The film looks pretty damn glorious; a good deal of it takes place at night (inside and outside), so be prepared for a few short sequences that could’ve been a bit better lit, but it’s nothing significantly distracting.  Lastly, as I watched this via streaming, there are no special features to rate and/or review.
 
(Mildly) Recommended, but …
 
I suspect that A Wounded Fawn will, ultimately, be fairly divisive.  Up to a certain point in its narrative, the plot is relatively conventional – a serial killer may or may not be manipulated by dark, supernatural forces – but once the second half begins the experience requires a fair amount of brainwork.  Is it real?  Is it madness?  Is this literal?  Or have we ventured into the territory of pure symbolism?  What exactly is and is not taking place becomes an oddly personal choice – I’m never a fan of make-your-own-adventure pacing, and I don’t think a lot of regular viewers are – boiling down the whole, bloody affair to a creative exercise that may or may not have been worth the price of admission.  Smartly filmed?  Yes!  Well performed?  Absolutely!  Satisfying conclusion?  Well … you be the judge.
 
In the interests of fairness, the kind folks at Shudder provided me with complimentary streaming access to A Wounded Fawn (2022) by request for the expressed purposes of completing this review; and their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.

​-- EZ

There was a time when the name of Neil Marshall had a wealth of promise.
 
The director kinda/sorta roared onto the genre scene back with the 2002 release of Dog Soldiers.  This tale of werewolves in the Scotland wilderness clearly sunk its teeth into audiences and held firm.  Though I found it a bit untrained, I, too, became a convert to Marshall’s talent with The Descent (2005), a tense subterranean thriller that pitted four female spelunkers against a tribe of inner-Earth cannibals.  But 2008’s Doomsday had me again questioning whether the director had the right stuff to truly compete in the cinematic marketplace: the Dystopian actioner starring the terrific Rhona Mitra felt entirely derivative and half-baked, populating what was left of Earth with a bunch of Mad Max extras in a story promising salvation but delivering stagnation.  Indeed, things looked grim … both on and off camera.
 
To his benefit, Marshall found his career somewhat reinvigorated with an entry into the world of television production.  Solid genre properties like Black Sails, HBO’s Game Of Thrones, and NBC’s short-lived Constantine showed that he still had his mojo; and episodes of Timeless, Westworld, and Netflix’s Lost In Space reboot followed.  But the return to the silver screen with 2019’s box office disaster of Hellboy was a huge step backward … apparently in more ways than one.
 
If one is interested, then one can Google into the background of Marshall and his partner Charlotte Kirk.  I’ve read some of the reportage, and – without going into the particulars – I think it’s all more than a bit confusing.  Kirk – in her early career – has been linked to the dynamic fall from grace of an incredible handful of Hollywood heavyweights, perhaps so much so that it’s been suggested that she’s been blacklisted from several major studios as a consequence of her previous relationships.  (There has been the suggestions of extortion, but – again – I haven’t seen anything proven.)  Apparently, it was at this point in their respective careers that these two creative souls found one another and pledged a commitment to work together on projects.
 
Their first film – The Reckoning (2020) – came and went with little fanfare.  (I’ve seen it, and interested readers can find my review right here.)  Essentially, it’s a period piece set in the 17th century exploring the story of Grace, a young widow who gets accused of witchcraft once she rejects an elder’s advances (perhaps reflecting Kirk’s alleged Hollywood life?).  Marketed as a bodice-ripper, it was everything but, and I imagine that didn’t help box office receipts.  The Lair (2022) is their second attempt at fortune and glory; while I’ll say – in short – that it isn’t exactly a step in the right direction, the film still possesses the kind of B-movie charm that just might find an audience given a lot of blood, sweat, and tears … of which the film offers plenty.
​
​​(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:
“When Royal Air Force pilot Lt. Kate Sinclair is shot down over Afghanistan, she finds refuge in an abandoned underground bunker where deadly man-made biological weapons – half human, half alien – are awakened.”
 
The Lair is the kind of film I’ve often said is ‘perfectly imperfect.’
 
The central story – involving the downed RAF pilot Sinclair (played by the fetching Charlotte Kirk) – is really only the set-up for the main course, that being her discovery of a clandestine Russian bunker in the Nangahar Province of Afghanistan wherein some dastardly Soviet Era scientists performed some gruesome experiments augmenting human DNA with strands of alien.  For it’s in this miasma of B-movie tropes that this Lair has enough muscle, moxie, and military might that could effective in giving it a second life on home video.  Certainly, such cinematic realities did wonders for a whole library of features from the 1980’s, and if the film gods are willing then The Lair will suffer a similar fate.
 
At the risk of sounding like the resident misogynist, I will say that it’s a good thing that Sinclair did her make-up before getting into her jet that morning.  She looks good throughout the film, no matter the amount of sweat and blood they add to her complexion as the story unfolds.  As gruesome as these human/alien hybrids appear, she’s a fabulous counterpoint; given the fact that she’s constantly spouting lines that were likely rejected from the shooting script of The Dirty Dozen (1967) only serves to underscore that – so far as film country goes – we’re not in Kansas any more … which is an especially touching sentiment given Jamie Bamber’s laughably bad Southern drawl.  As the grizzled U.S. major in charge of his own particular band of military rejects, he’s only missing the token fat stogie of a cigar to truly sell the 1950’s era stereotype.
 
Still, what works – for the most part – is Kirk’s presence in the picture.
 
She almost swaggers through every scene with the kind of screen confidence often reserved for a John Wayne, Sylvester Stallone, or Steve McQueen.  In fact, in The Lair she’s part John McClane – that quintessential action star whose chief narrative characteristic is being in the wrong place at the wrong time – and her and Marshall’s script (they co-wrote this schlock) has her standing toe-to-toe with hardened soldiers not quite twice her size but pretty darn close.  When not even bullets can pierce these lumbering monsters’ hides, merely a headbutt from her dazes them just enough to save the day!  (Well, maybe not the day, but it at least gives them pause.)  When everyone else continues uselessly unloading their weapons at the enemies, she’ll rush headfirst – across the field of fire, no doubt, without receiving so much as a nick or a scratch (when others are getting their faces bitten off) – only to mix it up in hand-to-hand combat with these alien bastards.

If that’s the kind of logic you’re looking for, then The Lair is a veritable repository of unintended laughs.  While the Kirk/Marshall script clearly spells out that the United States’ military is not sending their best and brightest to the Afghanistan countryside (they’re all misfits who’ve chosen to escape prosecution in essence by taking this detail at the ass-end of the world), Sinclair remains a righteously moral and physical specimen all of her own.  Why, it’s almost as if this woman could do no wrong, and – if you read my opening – then perhaps that’s a message intended from this creative pair back to Hollywood.  Let’s hope the suits are watching, though I suspect they’ve chosen the latest Scorsese over this.
​

About the time that the screen features high-jumping lizard men and slow-motion walking into combat sequences, it becomes very clear – or it should – that we’ve left all reality behind, and The Lair becomes one of those pictures that defies conventional and – at times –unconventional wisdom.  Even though the fallen Soviet Empire was behind this DNA mix-up, the script naturally indicts America because the U.S. top brass knew all about it and did nothing to stop it.  (The U.S. is what’s wrong with the world, don’t you know?)  You might have to hold your laughs once the surviving soldiers opt to ‘hole up’ inside a weapons locker that opens outward, but you’d best simply release it.  Trust me when I say, “there more where that came from,” and this one continues its descent until the last gag.
 
Still, as I’ve tried to be absolutely clear, there’s nothing wrong with the frenetic chaos, logical failures, and plot holes that populate so much of these 90+ minutes.  As a B-movie, The Lair functions reasonably well: though a bit long in a few spots, I’d argue it’s a no-brainer, the kind I and my friends would’ve happily sat through back in my college days of the great 1980’s probably once, twice, or maybe thrice.  It moves fast enough that – at first blush – some might not even notice its trash effects, sloppy writing, and hammy acting.  A less attentive audience – one fueled by pizza, popcorn, and beer – might not even question why the hybrids didn’t use those face tentacles more often, especially given the fact that they often made victory achievable with much greater loss.  See it as cognitive dissonance caught on camera, and it functions like a carnival attraction.  What’s so wrong with that?
 
The Lair (2022) was produced by Rather Good Films, Scarlett Productions Ltd., Ashland Hill Media Finance, and a few other participants.  (A full accounting is found on IMDB.com.)  The film is currently available for streaming on a wide variety of platforms.  As for the technical specifications?  For the most part, I found the sights and sounds very impressive: there are a few sequences – particularly those shot at night – that were a bit difficult to fully see the documented action.  While not entirely distracting, it’s a bit disappointing.  As I watched the film via streaming, there were no special features to review.
 
Recommended chiefly for fans of B-movie actions (especially those with a SciFi/Horror angle), but most likely everyone else will find this one far too undercooked …
 
The Lair is the kind of film wherein it works best if (and only if) you turn your brain fully off.  Otherwise, you might find yourself reaching for pen and paper to make a list of the number of mistakes and/or plot holes big enough to drive a tank through.  In fact, if I were to sit down for a chat with writer/director Marshall, I’d be inclined to ask if he started out this project with the intent to make an action movie parody as the number of unintended laughs this one produced suggests he did.  But all of that doesn’t remove the insufferable campy charm that runs through the piece from start-to-finish … including the bad accents, the flawed logic, the inferior special effects, and even the perfectly placed Wilhelm scream.
 
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Shudder provided me with complimentary streaming access to The Lair (2022) by request for the expressed purposes of completing this review; and their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.

​-- EZ

(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 three paragraphs for my final assessment.  If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
 
From the product packaging:
“Two years ago, Mark Fisher disappeared from his home in rural Maine in a brilliant flash of otherworldly blue light.  His friend Seth Hampton was the last to see him alive.  Now, Seth is having disturbing premonitions that Mark has returned as something other than human …”
 
That’s really all you need to know about whether or not Almost Human falls within your sphere of influence.  Now – if it does – then you’re likely to find something worthwhile in all of its low budget schlock.  Will it change how you look at movies?  Probably not.  Will it force you to reexamine your life?  It definitely shouldn’t.  Will it earn a place alongside, say, Citizen Kane (1941) as rivaling the best movie ever made?  If you need to ask, then you’re too far gone for me to help!
 
Almost Human is an old-school-style thriller, which essentially means it was shot on-a-budget and won’t have any of the niceties of contemporary motion pictures more likely known to the masses at large.  The story revolves around the idea of alien abduction – there are plenty of flashbacks to support that something is definitely ‘out there’ – but, before it’s all over, it’ll end up raising more questions than it ever could answer on such a paltry sum.
 
Now, that doesn’t mean that it’s poor filmmaking, folks.
 
In fact, what it does mean is that it’s probably made by folks who have an unflinching fascination with indie thrills, and they wanted to get together for the sole purpose of producing something they believed could stand cheek-to-cheek with the slasher stuff of old.  It does work effectively on that level, but – as is so often the case these days when young auteurs sit in the catbird seat – writer/director/producer/cameraman Joe Begos was probably stretched so thin that he’d never uncover the narrative weaknesses of what he created, much less cared to go out and look for them.
 
For example, he’s overly concerned with throwing stuff at the wall (not only blood) as one character after another really shows up and audiences are expected to care about them.  There are hints provided to the established relationships, but the niceties of developing relationships or establishing ‘beats’ are little more than condiments barely covering the meat … meat that’ll be sliced, hacked, chainsawed, or space-raped (seriously, it happens!) before the lights come up and the credits roll.
 
What ended up happening for me is that I was constantly reminded of other pictures that had already explored these ideas – abduction, consciousness-swapping, body snatching, etc. – to far greater effect in the past; this has the unfortunate effect of pulling me out of Human and putting me back in, say, The Hidden (1987).  I don’t imagine this is what Begos desired; why would he make his own feature, after all, if all he wanted to do was remind me of other films?  Because so much of what’s here ends up feeling like it was culled from elsewhere, Human lacks any real conviction to the story it tries to tell independent of those influences.  It reminds me that what looks great isn’t necessarily filling; rather, it just looks good when all is said and done.
 
Lastly, it’s never a good thing when a motion picture fades to black and produces a laughable ‘that’s it’ moment.  True – for those who were watching closely – there is one of those handy post-credits sequences that adds a bit more to the story; but it doesn’t add to or reshape the narrative in any meaningful capacity, ultimately being an extraneous moment promising ‘more to come.’
 
I’ll probably ignore the sequel if it happens.
 
Almost Human (2013) is produced by Channel 83 Films and Ambrosino / Delmenico.  DVD distribution is being handled by MPI Media Group under the IFC Midnight label.  As for the technical specifications, there’s an awful lot of surprising grain in this indie chiller, but the sights and sounds work pretty well for the creative intent.  Lastly – if it’s special features you want – then you’re about to be thrilled by two audio commentaries, a too-expansive making-off documentary, other behind-the-scenes shorts, a short film, and more.  It’s a great assortment for those who might be interested in trying this at home.
 
Recommended.
 
Depending upon how closely you’re watching, you’re liable to find problems aplenty with Almost Human; but the truth is I suspect that the makers only intended you to have fun with such a visceral throwback to times when horror didn’t have to make an awful lot of narrative sense.  No, you won’t know where the aliens came from or what their purpose was.  No, you won’t really have all of the answers you want to who these characters are, why they were targeted, or what it all means.  But the schlock – glorious schlock! – is lean and mean enough to satisfy horror fans for the bulk of its 80 minutes.
 
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at MPI Media Group and IFC Midnight provided me a DVD copy of Almost Human by request for the expressed purposes of completing this review; and their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.

​-- EZ

Oh, good gravy!
 
In the summer of 1985, I was the type of hungry movie goer that normally would’ve flocked to something that looked like Lifeforce.  I couldn’t tell you why I didn’t – I honestly don’t recall any specific reason – but I do remember asking a friend of mine who had taken a date of his to go and see it.  “It really isn’t any good,” he told me, “but it does have this gal with massive boobs who pops up every now and then when the plot slows to a halt.”
 
LOL!
 
Now, years later, that simple comment has stuck with me ever since.  So when I saw that Scream Factory was headlining an all-new Blu-ray release that promised an all-new cut approved by director Tobe Hooper himself, I figured it’s never too late – not even after thirty-plus years of thinking about it and the promise of those massive boobs (his words, not mine, folks) – to take in this sprawling B-movie and give it a fair shake.
 
What could possibly go wrong, eh?
 
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and characters.  If you’re the kind of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last three paragraphs for my final assessment.  If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
 
A mission to investigate the passing Halley’s Comet finds something no scientist inspected: in the heart of the phenomenon lies an alien spacecraft!  Col. Tom Carlsen (played with agreeable stoicism by Steve Railsback) commands a spaceborne crew to investigate the foreign vessel, and he’s alarmed to find three human-like aliens in suspended animation.  He orders the men to ferry them back to the shuttle, unknowingly setting Earth on a course to total annihilation by … you guessed it … space vampires!
 
Now … I say again … oh, good gravy!  In spite of itself, Lifeforce is a bomb of epic proportions that, yes, deserves to be celebrated.  Why?  How could that possibly be?  Well, the answer is never easy.
 
It could be that Lifeforce is one of those rare failures – it had a respected director, and the cast isn’t without talent – that inspires others to follow in its footsteps.  I’ve always maintained that no one – not a director, not a screenwriter, not a studio exec or even actors – sets out with deliberate intentions to capture a disaster on film.  After all, the risks to their respective careers and their employers make it an entirely implausible suggestion.  Still, it somehow happens – probably more often that creatives would like to admit – and I like to think that it’s due to an all-out consuming breakdown in the creative process.  I suspect that harsh cold reality is somewhere near the heart – or ‘life force’ – of Lifeforce.
 
For example, the disc’s longer cut (116 minutes) really doesn’t add much substance to the theatrical release (101 minutes), but there are some small character moments that help flesh out these otherwise fairly conventional creations.  In the 1980s, it was no secret that theatre owners preferred films pretty close to that much-praised 90 minutes run-time – it gave them the best chance to get the biggest audience into their business day, hence the best return – so I wonder if some of the tinkering contributed to a balkanization of the plot.  (Rest assured, even at 116 minutes this film makes little sense!)
 
But the truth is that the problems really don’t stop there.
 
Lifeforce’s shooting script is quite probably as anomalous as everything chocked into it – mysterious disappearances, supernatural science, boobs that defy gravity – and even a cursory glance at it reveals a score of problems.  For starters, what is the story?  Is this something being told from the point of view of the astronauts, or are these space vampires intended to be the main characters?  Just whose story is it, and why does it belong to them?  Thirty minutes into it, there still appears no central conflict – things just ‘happen,’ while, in the meantime, characters seem to come and go with greater frequency.  About halfway through, the narrative finally cleans up a bit when Carlsen kinda/sorta returns from the dead (not really, but don’t bother, because he’s not the only one who kinda/sorta does); with him, he brings some answers, but he also introduces several other new questions?
 
What to do now but … well, introduce even more characters!
 
Seriously, I’ve no idea how this script with these ideas could’ve seen its way into production except as a Golan and Globus production.  (Google it, kids … it’ll all make sense with some Googling.)  The end result is like that car wreck – you really should drive past, though you can’t help but keep looking.  That’s the best way to describe Lifeforce – a catastrophe you can’t help but watch.  It’s that intoxicating.
 
Plus, newcomer Mathilda May really does have great posture.
 
Recommended entirely because it’s so bizarre to behold!  Lifeforce is that rare sci-fi schlockfest that’s worth seeing entirely because it is so mind-blowingly bad.  The script by Dan O’Bannon & Don Jakoby – an adaptation of the novel “The Space Vampires” by Colin Wilson – doesn’t even really try to make sense of any of it probably because it would’ve been an entirely exhaustive affair.  To its credit, Lifeforce raised far more questions that it or quite possibly any film could ever answer, so it’s best to go into this one with an open mind and an open heart … ‘cause if you leave it with any measure of affection then it has to be love!

​-- EZ

Horror films can be a tough sell.
 
There are so many of them produced under conventional means – i.e. follow the basic ‘scare’ formula – but every now and then one comes along with a flair all of its own, with a style all of its own, with a look all its own.  That’s a cause for celebration – however modest – because flair, freshness, and originality aren’t exactly available with every feature.  American Mary has some wonderful touches, and – on those points alone – I think it’s definitely worth seeing.  Will it be entirely satisfying?  I think that depends upon your personal tastes and expectations for character development.
 
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and characters.  If you’re the kind of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, this ain’t it!  Still, I’d encourage you to skip down to the last two paragraphs for my final assessment.  If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
 
Mary Mason (played by the comely Katharine Isabelle) is your typical med school student struggling to make ends meet.  She’s about to be kicked out of her classes for failing to keep up on her tuition payments when she answers an advertisement at a strip club for performing erotic massage.  Before the night is over, she’s swept into a world of underground surgery – fixing up a victim for the club’s owner – which only opens the door to an even stranger off-the-records business of body augmentation.  Suddenly, she’s up to her elbows in blood and stitches.  What’s an American Mary to do?
 
It’s easy to give kudos to American Mary for attempting something original because, largely, that’s what writer/director/sisters/stars Jen and Sylvia Soska did.  Unfortunately, that’s all they did, as they amped up the ‘weird for the sake of being weird’ factor but heavily scrimped on any (and I do mean ANY) emotional connection between these characters.  That’s what I found a shame to the picture – I wanted to not so much ‘like’ Mary Mason (I don’t believe filmmakers ever really intend for us to like their villainous creations) but I wanted to fully ‘appreciate’ the journey she was on.  However, Mary – as played by Katharine Isabelle – approaches the role pre- and post-catharsis (her rape and the subsequent descent into medical madness) absolutely devoid of any emotion.  In other words, before being awakened to this weird subculture, Mary behaves mostly passionless to all things; and, after being awakened to the same, she’s still pretty much passionless.  Before being raped by what must be the most downright evil portrayal of a college professor/surgeon, she’s passionless about life; and, after the assault, she’s still pretty much devoid of any feelings.
 
Now, maybe (and I do say maybe) that’s what the sisters Soska wanted – to show that Mary was always destined to be what she became, that she was never going to be a victim in her world – but, if that was the case, how is it she could still casually dismiss the only person in this world her ever cared about her – her ‘Nana’ – by simply deleting her telephone contact once she learned she died and THEN sit sulking in the dark?  If she wasn’t going to be a victim of her emotions, then why the one scene sulking?  If it was to convey “see, she’s only human after all,” then they’ve changed their message.  If it that wasn’t the intent, then why include such a trivial plot development at all?
 
That’s the thing about Mary – I never know how she thinks about anything.  As a character, she simply ‘does’ what she does.  At times, much of the film felt like what others call ‘torture porn,’ but I never got the sense as a viewer that Mary took any delight in torturing those that she did.  The only legitimate display of emotion I can recall in the entire piece was when she was almost discovered, was konked over the head by a security guard, and then got back up and beat the young man (presumably to death).  While her face showed little emotion, her body betrayed her, thumping and thumping and thumping away on the body the way she did.  That was the only real emotional development Mary suffered, so I’m still left wondering what it was all about.
 
American Mary (2012) is produced by IndustryWorks Pictures, 430 Productions, American Mary Productions, and Twisted Twins Productions.  DVD distribution is being handled through XLrator Media.  As for the technical specifications, the film looks and sounds mostly very solid, though there’s one really strangely miked club sequence wherein vocal levels clearly are out of whack (not a big deal, I just like mentioning these little things when I see ‘em).  The disc offers a making of short as well as a director’s commentary, if you’re so inclined.
 
Recommended.
 
American Mary is slow.  At 100-plus minutes and all the glowing praise I’ve read for the film, I was really expecting something more than just ‘weird for weird’s sake.’  I don’t know that this world – this bizarre body modification culture – is real (I suspect it is), but I kept wondering what the Soska Sisters were trying to say about it since it didn’t seem particularly ‘American,’ particularly ‘Mary’ (i.e. routine, predictable), or particularly anything other than the portrait of a really unconventional class of people bordering on torture porn.  When I don’t know what the message is, I don’t know what to take away from the experience; when I don’t know what to take away, then I’m left to my own devices … this time out, my devices haven’t a clue.

​-- EZ

First, there’s ‘low budget’ horror.
 
The dirty little secret of ‘low budget’ horror is that, despite the fact that some small studio or tiny group of investors ponied up a decent amount of cash to peddle the flick to audiences, there may (and I do mean “may”) be some redeeming qualities to it.  It might have some legitimate scares.  It could even have some spiffy but practical make-up and effects.  If you’re lucky, then it should be blessed with a modest amount of nice acting – nothing grand, but just enough to show that the actors and actresses really put their heart into it, knowing that you’d at least have the spirit to make it to the very end.
 
Then, there’s ‘no budget’ horror, and 4 Dead Girls: The Soul Taker falls (sadly) into that category.  No matter how much effort any of the ladies put into this affair, it’s just way too hard to ratchet up any real thrills, chills, or spills when you’re filming in a house with, basically, three rooms.
 
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and characters.  If you’re the kind of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last three paragraphs for my final assessment.  If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
 
Lily (played with modest if not mousy conviction by Katherine Browning) and her three roomies are looking for a dream place: a fully-furnished off-campus house where they can go to eat, sleep, and (cough) bang.  What they don’t realize is that the man-of-their-dreams’ landlord is none other than a Nalusa Chito – a soul taker – who’s bent on munching on the very essence of all their beings before the first night together is over.
 
Had the writers and/or producers done even a modest amount of research, they would’ve realized that the name ‘Soultaker’ was already reserved for a no-budget stinker from the 80’s and maybe they would’ve gone in another direction so far as the film’s working name is concerned.  I mean … why would you want anyone to harken back to that film, wretched that it may be?  In fact, the original ‘Soultaker’ was lampooned by the likes of MST3K, so why would you even risk that association.  The best I can surmise is that perhaps they hoped in some bizarre way to piggyback on someone else’s success (or lack thereof), and they kept “The Soul Taker” as part of their name.
 
Also, how bad does a film have to be in order to pony up four beautiful girls on the product packaging … with none of them actually being in the flick?  Clearly, there’s more than a fair amount of subterfuge going on here, and if you don’t know the meaning of subterfuge then maybe 4 DEAD GIRLS is right up your alley.
 
Try as they might, these girls – they’re so generic I won’t trouble you with their specifics, and maybe they’ll be happy when this release is lost to history, too – can’t muster any real sense of dread; without that, horror films of the stalker variety are doomed to fail.  When your master villain delivers every line apparently under the influence of sleeping aids, you know something’s missing.  Still, the script tried to tweak each character just enough to give ‘em something more to do that scream and look pretty – for my tastes, they should’ve stuck with the former ‘cause they didn’t have much chance with the latter.
 
4 Dead Girls: The Soul Taker (aka The Rental) is produced by 3 Roses Entertainment.  DVD distribution is being handled by Breaking Glass Pictures.  As for the technical specifications, the best I can say is that both the audio and video are here; it’s certainly not an accomplished job because, in most cases, the girls’ screams are modulated louder than the soul taker’s menacing speeches, leaving the audience with little idea of what the man’s saying.  Must’ve been scary, though, if these girls are any indication.  To the disc’s credit, there are a handful of extras – cast interviews, some deleted scenes, and a short feature on the special effects – but I wasn’t all that interested in knowing more about this mess.
 
Not really recommended.
​
It’s hard to even give it a modest thumbs up.  Who knows?  Some might enjoy it more than I did, but, then again, I’ve heard some people like root canals, too.  I don’t.
 
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Breaking Glass Pictures provided me with a DVD copy of 4 Dead Girls: The Soul Taker by request for the expressed purposes of completing this review.

​-- EZ

It's been my long-stated position that those of you who don't unabashedly love the 1980 incarnation of Flash Gordon simply don't understand it.

Simply put, it was a film never made to be taken seriously.  Clearly, its performances, effects, and production design were all a bit over-the-top -- much in the tradition from the comic strip's original look -- and maybe even in some small way was meant to poke fun at the tropes all captured within the wildly imaginative universe.  Coming as it did on the not-too-distant heels of George Lucas' Star Wars and a host of studio imitations, I guess it was just easy to dismiss Gordon's cartoonish sensibilities as a creative misfire, but I think the flick looks and behaves exactly as it was designed.

And what about the casting of the much-revered musical legend Topol in the role of Dr. Hans Zarkov?

​Well, the decorated actor's inclusion might've been part of what threw folks off a bit.  Given his reputation for appearing in the realm of the stage and theatrical movie musical could've had some anticipating something a bit different from the flick.  (Not that there's anything wrong with musicals, folks, but I personally can't stand them ... but that's just me.)  With the man's pedigree, I can't help but wonder if audiences expected something a bit more -- erm -- highbrow?  I was in my high school years at the time of this one's release -- saw it more than once on the big screen -- and I unabashedly loved it, so I can't speak for any confusion.

Still, this isn't to say that the actor was entirely perfect for the role.  I think while the part was written reasonably well, it's hard to hear the man deliver lines and not think of him singing them instead; his deep, rich voice does kinda/sorta have that effect in a few places.  I can't even begin to imagine that's what was intended, but maybe -- just maybe -- producers thought Topol's inclusion might've somehow elevated the film's reputation and/or reception upon release to the critical community.  I mean -- after all -- who's going to criticize Topol?

But because the picture is a bit of a legend in certain genre-laden circles, I think it's safe to say that the man has enjoyed a life well beyond the scope of singing and dancing.

Alas, none of us lives forever -- even Prince Vultan cries out "Who wants to live forever?" in the film -- and word has reached SciFiHistory.Net's news desk this morning of the man's passing.

Thoughts and prayers are extended to the family, friends, and fans of Topol.  May he forever rest in peace.

​-- EZ

I’ve said it before, and I find myself saying it again: Giallo films – Italian features highlighting some particularly gruesome bloodletting captured by stylish camerawork and punctuated by uncharacteristic musical choices – are an acquired taste.
 
Newcomers exploring their first Giallo might come away more than a bit confused if not downright disgusted.  Chillers unfold at a smoldering pace not seen typically outside of Italy as these directors and screenwriters don’t often follow the same framework in both presenting and solving the central mysteries.  Certainly, repeat exposures to similar fare helps a viewer reach a greater understanding of this unique sub-genre; but the real treat often comes when repeated viewings of the same film gradually open one’s eyes to some of the hidden moments of genius that escaped an earlier screening.  I’ve often said that – in the U.S. – Horror audiences will watch a domestic release over and over again solely to recapture the resulting visceral thrill; by contrast, Giallo fans endure their flicks over and over again in order to see what they missed previously.  That’s not exactly two sides of the same coin.
 
And I’ve really only recently had the good fortune to explore some of the pictures in noted Giallo master Dario Argento’s catalogue, of which Phenomena (1985) has landed on my desk from Synapse Films.  While many reviewers have christened the feature as one of Argento’s very best theatrical ventures, I’d definitely stop short on suggesting that this be your very first dalliance with the genre.  (Again, please keep in mind that I say this while admitting I’m somewhat of a novice myself!)  In short, it’s fairly tame – there’s very little bloodshed and occasionally a bit confusing.  But it does boast a terrific performance by Donald Pleasence alongside a somewhat muddled job from a young Jennifer Connelly that makes it worth its weight in blood … so I suppose that might be all that matters in the big finish.
 
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters.  If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment.  If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
​

From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“A young girl who has an amazing ability to communicate with insects is transferred to an exclusive Swiss boarding school, where her unusual capability might help solve a string of murders.”
 
For what it’s worth, Phenomena evolved as a particularly tantalizing idea from the mind of director Argento (who also collaborated with Franco Ferrini on the script): personally interested in the field of forensic entomology – the study of insects as associated to crime – the storyteller set out to show just how a bunch of flies and maggots ultimately serve as nature’s greatest detectives.  For those unaware, these bugs dine on our flesh once we’ve expired, so pathologists will examine these arthropods found at crime scenes in hopes of piecing together elements like the time and place of death.
 
Months after a stranded Danish teenager is viciously murdered and left for dead in the Swiss countryside, revered entomologist John McGregor (played by Pleasence) is finally consulted by local authorities.  His assistant had also gone missing and was presumed to have been a victim of the same senseless butcher, so he’s all too happy to lend his expertise to Inspector Rudolf Geiger (Patrick Bauchau).  Still, at this point, the police have exhausted all leads.
 
At the same time, young Jennifer Corvino (Connolly) is arriving for a protracted stay at the nearby Richard Wagner Academy for Girls, shipped off to the exclusive institution by her wealthy actor/father whose career has him off trotting the globe for work.  Lo and behold, we soon learn that Jennifer has a secret affinity for bugs, so much so that she’s crafted a telepathic connection with them, one that has them responding to protect her when she’s in any moments of distress.  Thus, it shouldn’t take anyone with a degree in screenwriting to predict that these two insect aficionados will ultimately find and befriend one another because that’s exactly what happens in the world of cinema relationships!
 
Oh, but were that where Argento and Ferrini’s constructs stopped!
 
Young Jennifer is also plagued by unexplained sleepwalking, an act that Argento preternaturally stages like some out-of-body experiences.  It’s during this pivotal nocturnal outing that she both witnesses an all-new murder, falls out a building, and is nearly mowed down in traffic!  After being briefly kidnapped by a pair of Swiss teens, she finds herself awake in the forest, now in the arms of McGregor’s chimpanzee/assistant Inga.  Of course, the chimp takes the young lady home, thus finally uniting bugman with bugwoman, and their friendship is born.
​

In case missed it, yes, the forward momentum of Phenomena requires an awful lot of helpful coincidences in order for these events to align in the same script.  The entomologist just happens to live near the elite school, and Jennifer just happens to have been sent there.  Jennifer just happens to suffer from sleepwalking, and she just happens to wind up in the forest where Inga just happens to be hanging out in wait.  See how that works?  Why, it’s almost magical … if that stuff just happens.  Alas, the correlations don’t stop there, and Jennifer’s new roommate Sophie (Federica Mastroianni) becomes the very next victim in the killer’s suddenly fast-growing roster of victims.  Now the young lady has a vested interest in getting to the bottom of all this … and that’s when the headmistress (the stunning Dalila Di Lazzaro) and the whole student body just happen to discover that the lady talks to insects!
 
Sigh.
 
Without tarnishing anything further, Phenomena continues down this path of incessant good fortune all the way up until it’s last shocking kill (I won’t spoil it).  The fact that luck alone – or is that bad luck? – propels so much of what happens in this world definitely puts this one in fairly predictable territory, but I will say that Pleasence alone – right up until his sad (but foreseeable) demise – is reason enough to endure the picture.  The man rather effortlessly moves through each and every scene, giving the film some authentic, welcome, and believable gravitas in places where it’s needed most.  Argento might be a master with visual finesse – blood or not – but films are still stories about people … and it takes a human the caliber of Pleasence to give substance to so much of this one’s shadows and light.
 
Connelly, by comparison, seems lost, some of which is likely owed to her age and inexperience.
 
A quick look at IMDB.com suggests that this was her first big theatrical break; and – at the ripe age of fourteen – carrying a picture as much as she’s required to do here was a daunting challenge.  (Once she arrives in the flick, she’s in quite a bit of it.)  There are moments when she delivers – her moments with Sophie in their dormitory room are quite good, and she shares the screen with Pleasence in their collaborative moments quite well.  Theirs is a kinship that’s entirely plausible (well, except for the coincidences), and he becomes an almost surrogate father for the displaced child.  But because far too much of Phenomena’s Horrors feel somewhat formulaic, the resulting thrills, spills, and chills she endures just don’t quite resonate the way other scream queens (in their respective youth) performed.
 
Lastly, the picture feels like one of those efforts that just missed its mark, much of which is owed to the fact that perhaps its central player – Argento – bit off more than he could chew.  Writing and directing are very personal endeavors, at times so intensive and exhaustive that they can no doubt blind one to the weaknesses inherent in poor writing, underplayed moments, or sloppy plotting.  Perhaps the services of a script doctor – another pair of eyes who could’ve taken a stab (pun intended) at a few key scenes – might’ve helped the film’s overall tone.  Maybe even trimmed some fat in a few places.  (There’s a sequence involving a forced EEG that seems kinda/sorta wildly out of place.)  At times, Phenomena seemed like it was lightly poking fun at itself – maybe even mocking some of the tropes required of the genre – and I don’t think that was intentional.
 
Or perhaps I should say I hope that wasn’t intentional.
​

Phenomena (1985) was produced by DACFILM Rome.  DVD distribution (for this particular release) is being coordinated by the good people at Synapse Films.  As for the technical specifications?  Though I’m no trained video expert, I thought that the sights and sounds to this 4K Ultra HD edition were nothing short of spectacular: I only noticed one small sequence with an awful lot of obvious grain, so I can only guess that the snippet was flawed in production.
 
As for the technical specifications?
 
Wowsa!  This two-disc collection contains not one, not two, but three different cuts of the big show (the Italian version, the International version, and the U.S. “Creepers” version). The Italian version (Disc 1) hosts an audio commentary by author Troy Howarth (it’s particular entertaining and actually helps make a second watching of the flick very enlightening).  There’s also a feature-length documentary on the making of Phenomena along with a music video and other associated publicity materials.  Disc 2 houses the alternate versions along with a different audio commentary with authors Derek Botelho and David Del Valle.  There’s also a visual essay, alternate audio/stereo mixes, and some additional publicity bits from around the world.  It’s a fabulous collection, one that’ll keep fans focused for some time.
 
Recommended.
 
As I’ve always tried to be clear, I’m neither an expert on Giallo films nor that big a fan of them.  What I do like is stories that are compellingly constructed with characters that are engagingly performed; and – on that respect – Phenomena kinda/sorta ebbs and flows a bit too much.  Its highs are great, but its lows are almost painstakingly banal.  Argento was a fan of some slow building, simmering tension; in here, it works more often than it fails, but when it fails it’s pretty obvious.  Some takes are just too long, and – once again – I can’t help but wonder if another pair of eyes might’ve tightened this one up in places wherein some tidying could’ve been more effective.
 
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Synapse Films provided me with a complimentary 4K Ultra HD of Phenomena (1985) by request for the expressed purposes of completing this review; and their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.

​-- EZ