There are some folks who argue that only the very, very, very best films can change the way you think about all of filmdom.

For example, I've given up trying to explain to so many why Citizen Kane (1941) deserves all of the praise that's been heaped on it over the years.  (No, I'm going to resist the temptation to give a full accounting as to the reasons why.  If you don't know by now, then you're a total loss.)  The problem with audiences today is that all of the tricks, gimmicks, and flourishes in there have been seen replicated thousands of times since ... and, yet, they don't understand that Kane was the motion picture that did most of them F-I-R-S-T.  Furthermore, all of it was accomplished by a slate of industry outsiders -- folks who'd largely got their start in radio -- and the studio folks who were there kept insisting over and over "it can't be done."  Well, they did it, and the completed film truly stands as a testament to what can be accomplished on raw, unabridged talent.

​Now, I don't bring up 1990's Total Recall -- which celebrates its thirty-fourth theatrical anniversary today -- to in any way say that it's the intellectual equal to Citizen Kane.  (It would make for a curious double-bill though, am I right?)  My motivation is much humbler: it's merely to say that in the realms of the Fantastic this Paul Verhoeven flick stands head-and-shoulders so very many other Science Fiction and Fantasy projects.  Its singular greatness likely swung open as many imitators as Kane did, and it --without any doubt -- confirmed Arnold 'Screw Your Freedom' Schwarzenegger's power at the international box office in ways like no other pictures could.

​​Generally speaking, genre efforts don't get such distinction often enough, but it's exceedingly rare to be one of those rare theatrical adventures that transcends space and time, delivering audiences with a near-perfect glimpse at what's possible to achieve on the silver screen.  The talent is phenomenal -- across the board -- and the special effects work -- while occasionally a bit cheesy only because so much of it was accomplished practically as opposed to CGI -- holds up very well against things done years later.  Based on a story from Philip K. Dick, the yarn of a man who may or may not be living out the fantasy of a lifetime is the kind of serial viewers can experience over and over, finding something a bit different to enjoy with each subsequent screening.

Indeed, Total Recall was a bit of a spectacle back in the day.  At the 1991 Academy Awards, its effects team of Eric Brevig, Rob Bottin, Tim McGovern, and Alex Funke took home a 'Special Achievement Oscar' for their work in the picture.  Additionally, the flick scored Saturn Awards at the Academy Of Science Fiction, Fantasy, And Horror Films 1991 ceremony with big wins in 'Best Costumes' and the much-coveted 'Best Science Fiction Film.'

So ... if you haven't seen it, then there's no better time than the present.

After all, the future awaits!

​-- EZ
​
ExtraExtra Alert:
For those of you who'd like to know a bit more about Total Recall (1990), please check out the film's official page on SciFiHistory.Net right here.
​

It's been said, my friends, that history is being made all around us, each and every moment of each and every day.

While that might be true, I think it's equally true that we don't stop enough to appreciate these little bits and pieces as they take place in real time.  We're too busy.  We're too consumed with the business of living to notice that some happening may or may not turn out to be galactically significant in the day, weeks, months, or years ahead.  Much like Roy Batty observed when he suggested that all of his moments would be lost like tears in rain, I've always tried to operate from the news desk from the perspective of drawing out these highlights and shining what little light I can on them from my humble perch.  It may not be much, but I still think there's a hint of nobility in reminding us of what came before -- not necessarily of what came first -- so that we don't forget our own place in the cosmos.

That said, I'd like to draw your attention briefly to the fact that 1919's The First Men In The Moon turns an astonishing 105 years young today.

Having not been alive back then, I can't tell you whether or not this 50-minute feature went viral ... well, 'viral' being a term that might not mean today what it did back then.  I don't know how audiences may have embraced it, celebrated it, or disdained it for what it was, a singular story about man's flight to our nearby satellite.  What I can tell you is that it's firmly believed that not only is The First Men cited as being one of the very first adaptations of the H.G. Wells' novel but also it's said to be the very first full-length Science Fiction motion picture.

Again: this information could be amiss depending upon one's perspective.  Coming from the mindset of preserving historical moments, I can only pass along that which I've either read or known to me personally.  I'm well aware that there are shorter flicks that kinda/sorta claim the title of being 'the first SciFi movie,' and that's all well and good.  As I said (or wrote, rather), The First Men is considered to be a full-length film -- clocking in at considerably longer than its competitors to the crown -- and I think that's something to keep in mind when debating.

Alas, the film is listed as presently lost to history.  To the best of our collective knowledge, not a single print of it exists anywhere -- occasionally, old reels turn up in the most unlikely places, but so far that's not been the case -- and all we're left with at this point are images from released news clippings and the like.  Let this be a cautionary message to those of you fledgling filmmakers out there -- always keep a backup copy somewheres other than 'The Cloud' as even that could be damaged in the event of some EMP when the End Times truly arrive.

So ... Happy Birthday or Happy Anniversary to the visionaries who first took audiences to the Moon in this silent era production.

​-- EZ

Many, many moons ago, I made a conscious decision to stop recommending comedies – even genre comedies – as a practice.
 
Now, I decided as such not because I don’t like comedies because absolutely nothing could be further from the truth.  I’ve written comedy.  I laugh – both at myself and others – constantly.  I’ve tried to live my wife with some attention always directed at the absurdities I encounter along the way; and friends and family will tell you that I’m always pointing them out, even occasionally in poor taste.  What can I say?  It’s just how I’m wired.  Yet, the reason that I finally grew exhausted over sharing such observations is that I found most folks just don’t see the world the way I do.
 
Laughing together?  That’s all well and good.  Laughing alone?  Meh.  That’s kinda/sorta lonely.
 
Still, even now and then I’m apt to crawl just a wee bit out of my bubble when I’ve had some fun with an otherwise negligible feature; so that’s what I’m doing today with the genre Comedy Rapture-Palooza (2013) from Lionsgate Films.  This perfectly acceptable middle-of-the-road exploration of End Times isn’t anywhere the big budget yuckster I think most audiences would embrace; and yet it’s still the kind of subversive and unassuming bit of passable entertainment we used to get with flicks like Airplane! (1980), The Naked Gun: From The Files Of Police Squad (1988), and Hot Shots (1991).  The films weren’t smart; rather, they were theatrical looney tunes given a bit of screen time from folks who bought into the absurdity and embraced it for what it was.  They knew full well that there was an audience hungry for such schlock, and they hoped for nothing more than to seek out and find them as giddy over their effort as they were in making it.
 
Rapture-Palooza isn’t quite up to the same level of charm, but it’s about as close as I’ve seen in some time.  To me, that fact alone makes it worth a thumbs up.
 
(NOTE: The following review will include 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:
“Two teens battle their way through a religious apocalypse on a mission to defeat the Antichrist.”
​

Well, The Beast (as played by Craig Robinson) has finally come up from the flaming depths to stake his claim on what’s left of mankind not long after ‘The Rapture’ hauled off all of the good and decent to heavenly pastures.  Lo and behold, this politician-turned-Antichrist will stop at nothing to claim what he feels is rightfully owed him, even if that means wiping the Earth clean of any souls that would stand in his path to (un)righteous gratification.  What’s a world destroyer to do when he’s suddenly smitten with Lindsey Lewis (Anna Kendrick) and her virginal charms but to strike down any and all who would deny him the chance to – ahem – spread a little seed?
 
So, yes, Rapture-Palooza is the occasionally vulgar laugher that tries to rather broadly take a few swipes at the end of life as we know it; but – for what my opinion is worth – it does so in about as good-hearted way one might when breaching a topic of such – ahem – Biblical proportions.  It ain’t easy crafting a comedy that deals with religion; and, thankfully, Rapture avoids as much as possible making jokes at any particular faith’s expense.  Instead, it revels in the excesses by way of characters who themselves might be a bit cardboard and/or stereotypical (the world’s last virgin, an increasingly vulgar failed deity, shysters who are trying to still get rich even though they know they’re likely bound for darkness); and – in that respect – I found it pleasantly amusing.
 
Lindsey and her fiancé Ben House (John Francis Daley) seem like good people – the neighborhood kids who found romance in one another’s arms – but can’t quite figure out exactly why they weren’t sucked up to Heaven.  While they’ve written it off to the fact that they simply never went to church, they’ve merely accepted their Fate and gone about the business of getting on with life.  However, it doesn’t take long for – ahem – God’s wrath to be felt when he strikes down their simple sandwich cart with a smoldering boulder that fell from the Heavens, so things are looking increasingly grim for their still-planned nuptials.
 
Hoping to give them a chance at gainful employment, Ben’s dad (Rob Corddry) opts to drag them along to his job at The Beast’s mansion one day.  It’s here that things take a turn for the even worse as the all-new Mr. Big takes a liking to the fetching but perpetually dour Lindsey.  When she rejects his advances, The Beast presents her with his Earthly ultimatum: accept his hand in marriage by nightfall or he’ll wipe everyone she loves from existence.
 
So, yes, it should be fairly clear to all involved that Rapture isn’t about any literal translation of the Bible, its Book of Revelations, or Armageddon in general.  This is pure Comedy, and – as is always the case where nothing is to be granted any measure of legitimacy – a great deal of its effect can and will be measured by the personal tastes of those who watch it.  As I’ve often opined, my sense of humor gravitates a bit toward the Dark Side of things, and I ended up having my fancy tickled by a good deal of The Beast’s shenanigans.  Yes, it’s arguably going to offend those with delicate sensibilities, but – as I said above – it’s been one of the first flicks I’ve come across in ages that truly felt like it was inspired by the insane spirit of some of the great laughfests of the bygone era.  The stuff that came from Jim Abrahams, Pat Proft, and brothers Jerry and David was sheer insanity; and Rapture hits many of the same benchmarks.
​

Everything – including the kitchen sink – is up for parody here.  The Biblical conventions of great plagues, blood rain, and locusts are skewered for the film’s easiest laughs; and then – all of a sudden – Earth survivors are overwhelming by cursing crows.  (I kid you not, I think I laughed the most at this bit.)  Yes, the dead rise again, and it’s all milked for laughs as the neighbor guy – a zombiefield Mr. Murphy (Tom Lennon) – just persists on mowing his lawn … even without a lawnmower.  Just about everything we’ve ever learned about the Fall of Man gets a bit of exposure in here, and absolutely none of it is ever given a hint of seriousness.
 
That, my friends, is how I’ve always liked my Comedies.
 
Rapture-Palooza doesn’t always work.  Robinson – while great – occasionally takes his sex talk a bit too far, making his schtick sometimes kill the vibe he so winning hits in other places.  While I’ve never been a big fan of Kendrick’s work (a bit too monotone in her delivery), she’s delightfully deadpanned throughout most of this, so much so that I really wanted her to – ahem – bust loose with her sexuality in the second half (which she never does), and it tonally feels a bit too underplayed.  The genius John Michael Higgins – he plays Lindsey’s somewhat manic father – is gone too soon from the procedure (yes, his death is funny), and I think the picture could’ve been better served with him getting a bigger role, even if that meant a different part entirely.
 
However, there’s just so much in here that works … from the devious wraiths being irrepressible potheads to the surviving youth still eeking out the usual mindless existence that I found Rapture-Palooza blessed with the kind of understated commentary that makes for a winning experience … despite the Fate of man being diminished in the process.
 
Rapture-Palooza (2013) was produced by Lionsgate Films, Mimran Schur Pictures, and Mosaic.  The film is presently available for streaming on a variety of streaming platforms.  As for the technical specifications?  Meh.  While I’m no trained video expert, I thought the overall quality of the sights-and-sounds were largely good; inferior or subpar special effects do kinda/sorta enhance the comedic quality of the film, so don’t look for blockbuster sequences, if you catch my drift.  Lastly, if you’re looking for special features?  Since I streamed this one on Amazon Prime, there were no special features under consideration.
 
Recommended.
 
As I’ve tried to be clear, I long ago gave up on trying to recommend what I find uniquely funny – mostly because folks all too often disagree – but I’ve still no problem admitting that I enjoyed Rapture-Palooza (2013) probably more than most.  It properly skewers about every subject it breaches, thus making it a very old school style attempt at lampooning the conventions we’ve accepted as part of our existence.  Its performances are all a bit over-the-top, and its cast and crew clearly had one defining purpose in bringing it to life … to make people laugh.  In my little corner of the universe, there’s still great value in achieving such modest results.
 
In the interests of fairness, I’m beholden to no one for this review of Rapture-Palooza (2013) as I streamed it via my membership with Amazon Prime.

​-- EZ

Cheap-And-Lowdown Internal Searches By Hashtags
#AnnaKendrick
#Apocalypse
#CraigRobinson
#ChrisMatheson
​#RapturePalooza
​​#RobCorddry 

Readers, the last thing I consider myself is a know-it-all.

Honestly, I've always stopped just short of calling myself a know-nothing.

Basically, I talk about movies, TV shows, and celebrity entertainment, and I've always -- always -- tried to do from the perspective of history.  I think it's important that there be some online voices who aren't trying to ratchet up any controversy; and that's largely why I've tried to stay out of that arena.  Others are far better informed about trends and finances and theatrical highs and lows, so I long ago decided that I'd leave those particulars to them.  They're better at such analysis, so who am I to stick my nose in the middle of such a kerfuffle?  I'm like you: I have my opinions, and I try to keep them as succinct as possible.  When I have something to say, then I speak up.

And I think I've something to say this morning.

Now, to give you the context, what I'm about to impart I do so entirely because I think I've stirred up a little controversy on a social media platform (if my replies and whatnot are any indication).  I didn't mean to do so -- I was only offering, as I said above, an observation from history -- but sometimes that's all it takes a ignite a small brush fire.  It has to do with the present state of the American theatrical box office -- which is in shambles for a whole lot of reasons, not just one -- but I think what I offered might give a bit of insight into how we got to this lowly place.

​A few decades back -- it was probably the late 1980's or early 1990's -- I remember reading an article that was an interview with a Hollywood studio person.  I don't recall if it was a studio suit or a director or a producer or whatnot, but that really doesn't matter.  The entire argument this person was making was that we -- as moviewatchers -- should feel glad that they do what they do -- make movies -- and keep them at such a bargain price.  His point -- and I believe it was a male -- was that so far as they were concerned that the movies were sacrosanct.  It was a place that shouldn't be tinkered with by outsiders or even by insiders.  The theater was a place for communal worship of the arts ... but he also admitted that there was a desire amongst the real Hollywood heavyweights to push ticket prices to the point wherein they'd be on par with concert experiences.

Hold on to your hats, folks.

The central argument here was that if directors, actors, actresses, production people, effects staff, and the like were truly artists -- much like those that you pay $50, $100, and $200 to see live, then why shouldn't theaters be commanding the same price?  In other words, if you're willing to plunk down, say, $200 for the best seats you can get to Taylor Swift, then why shouldn't you pay the same when seeing her on the silver screen?  I think the obvious retort would be that there's a huge, huge, huge difference to seeing a performer live versus in the theater, but this executive was among those who felt otherwise, that it's art for the sake or art, and all should demand the same price.

Now, let me assure you this person wasn't advocating for those ticket prices specifically.  The point was that -- if I remember correctly -- he was responding to the fact that box office prices were too low and were due for an increase; and -- in a somewhat reckless fashion -- he was suggesting that we should simply be happy to pay more to see what they're producing for us in the cineplexes whether we liked it or not.  His suggestion was that art deserves to charge what the artist believes is an appropriate sum -- not based on what you or I can afford -- and, as such, a surge in prices is a natural response of markets as they come to terms with social requires.

If more folks want to see, say, Star Wars or Star Trek, then wouldn't those folks be willing to pay more for said films?

I think in some ways it's this mindset that has given rise to streaming, especially those both driven and pushed by major studios, because it shows that they want to cash directly for what they're willing to fund.  For those up on their history, Paramount has had this in their sights for decades, first with their own channel (which ultimately failed) and now their own streaming network (which isn't exactly doing well).  Given the fact that Paramount Pictures is, financially, pretty much D.O.A. one might wonder why the suits haven't woken up and smelled the morning coffee to understand that such a mindset does not and cannot work to their benefit.

But it's this pervasive arrogance -- the 'I know what you should be paying for what we're giving you -- that works contrary to the evidence of history.  Audiences can always go elsewhere, and the executives are kinda/sorta  spitting in your face, thinking that they're your only option.  They're not -- the dirty secret is that they've never been -- and, thus, they continue to mismanage one intellectual property after another all in pursuit of the mighty dollar ... which they don't seem to be finding.

Still, I found it telling that probably thirty years ago some anonymous suit was basically expressing the same sentiment that is largely killing the entertainment industry today ... and I thought that worth sharing.

​-- EZ

Despite what others might insist, there really are no hard and fast rules for creating any sequel or prequel in any of Hollywood’s already established intellectual properties.
 
Honestly, I think it’s safe to conclude that – especially in today’s climate – the biggest requirement is that the sequel or prequel be guaranteed to make money … especially when blockbusters are in so diminishing a supply.  But it used to be that storytellers did have a few requirements, and I think the only one that every structurally mattered (so far as I gave a damn) is that if you’re going to make a sequel or a prequel then – minimally – it should add something of substance to the franchise.  In other words, don’t just make a picture so that it makes money – a rather obvious cash grab – but give this place and its people and its particulars a chance to grow.  Explain the universe a bit more.  Widen and expand the mythology.  Flesh out something fresh alongside reminding audiences why this unique world still has something to offer.  It should stand on its own, as well, but – at its core – it has to deepen the mystique of the original respectfully, too.  Otherwise, what’s the point?
 
Ahem.
 
Writer/director George Miller is on record for some time now stating that he had every intention of bringing Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga (2024) to audiences since he launched Mad Max: Fury Road (2015) … and, well, more power to him.  While I’ve read that there were some behind-the-scenes issues that had to be worked out in order for this production to come to life, the respected auteur finally delivered on his promise in the usual big, brash, combustible style.  The flick is here, and I think anyone who’s seen it would conclude that it unarguably looks, sounds, and feels like it’s meant to co-exist in the same universe.  While the news is reporting that the project is decidedly underperforming despite its positive critical and casual praise, I’m going to take the time to point out why I think it’s failing to fire on all cylinders.
 
As usual, you can all feel free to disagree.  I have no bones with readers who do.  I’m here to represent my opinion alone, and I’m glad those of you who show up to read it still do.
 
(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:
“The origin story of renegade warrior Furiosa before her encounter and team-up with Mad Max.”
​

Yes.  That synopsis perfectly sums up the surprising simplicity with which Miller conceived and executed this surprisingly swelled bit of fluff that – quite frankly – never justified the need for its own existence cinematically.
 
And yes: that’s my two cents.
 
Like so many, I’ve been a fan of the Mad Max franchise since it began theatrically in 1979.
 
Originally embodied by box office star Mel Gibson, Max told the story of a kinda/sorta fallen police officer up to and well after Armageddon turned all of our world to crap.  In his souped-up Ford Falcon XB GT, the cop-turned-road-warrior found himself still taking stands on the side of justice (not necessarily ‘the law’), and his heroic antics made for an incredible trilogy ending with Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome in 1985.  Miller had said on and off again that he intended to go back to the world he had fashioned so richly with leather and chrome; and he finally did so in 2015 with Fury Road, this time with Tom Hardy in the role of weathered savior on wheels.  While I don’t believe that, financially, the project was as lucrative as were the earlier entries, I’d argue that its reception confirmed that there was still gas in the tank (as they say) for the franchise; and I wonder if it isn’t those sentiments that ultimately convinced Miller to follow-up with secondary character, perhaps hoping to give her the spotlight he felt she deserved.  Opening box office for Furiosa’s solo outing suggests that audiences might not agree.
 
As an origins picture alone, I found myself questioning exactly why Miller felt this particular story was even remotely necessary.  Functionally, the tale of the child’s abduction from the ‘Land of Abundance’ was already known – it’s the driving force behind her older self’s journey in Fury Road – and other than proving that it once did in fact exist (something never in doubt) absolutely nothing new is learned in these brief sequences.  As an urchin, Furiosa is taken away by these gas-guzzling riders of the Apocalypse; and she spends the length of the film looking to get back (again, that’s the whole point of Fury Road) though she does amass some new talents along the way.
 
So was really taking a deep dive into the heroine’s past really even necessary?
 
For argument’s sake, let me turn for one moment to 2018’s oft-maligned Solo: A Star Wars Story, a Walt Disney production that tried to kinda/sorta much the same with the character of Han Solo, the beloved scoundrel of that galaxy far, far away.  The story from Jonathan Kasdan, Lawrence Kasdan, and (creator) George Lucas truly got dragged by an awful lot in fandom for a variety of reasons, but the arguments did weakly coalesce around the theme that so many found it ultimately brought nothing new to the hero.  Respectfully, I disagreed online, and I argued that the script at least gave viewers a chance to see how Han and Chewie met, how Han and Lando Calrissian met, and how our lovable smuggler came to be in possession of the Millennium Falcon.  None of that even remotely suggests that audiences had to fall in love with these elements of the man’s past, but it’s inaccurate to say that these moments didn’t happen.  In small ways, one might even argue that they gave a bit of flavor to precisely how and why Han evolved as a person; but – for better or for worse – watchers still rejected the picture perhaps because they didn’t want to see their idol demystified.

Now, Furiosa – as a big player in the Max universe – wasn’t really all that fabulous to begin with.  Frankly, I see her function in Fury Road as little more than being a dynamic catalyst requiring Max to rise up and get back into top form in his quest for redemption (since that’s what he does every film in trying to demonstrate mankind isn’t as evil as its portrayed).  She’s a sidekick – albeit an important one – but narratively nothing more than that.  Perhaps Miller saw this and wanted to show greater justification for her ‘being’ in the Apocalypse, but – so far as I’m concerned – she fulfilled her purpose for being in that picture.  Nothing more was necessary, and any further exploration anyone else felt obligatory might even suggest that an origins story would feel like little more than a vanity project … which is precisely how Furiosa felt to me.
 
None of this is to suggest that the film isn’t exquisitely made.  Miller is definitely a one-of-a-kind genius when it comes to delivering about as unique an incarnation of the Apocalypse as is possible on film.  The cars, the costumes, and the time and expense of stunt and effects work is damn magical in ways that show why this timeline is fabulous for theatrics in more ways than one.  Furiosa – while bloated (the film, certainly not its star Anya-Taylor Joy who is as thin as a rain) – hums like only the Miller engine could; and its action sequences and pyrotechnics deserve to be seen (as advertisers insist) on the widest screen possible.  But because the same could be said for all Miller’s other entries, does that alone validate the picture’s singular existence?
 
Readers, it pains me to admit that I was honestly bored with so much of this effort.
 
Joy was particularly miscast, never quite hitting a clear note in any scene she handled.  The best she accomplishes here are an assortment of feverish glares at the many adversaries she encounters on her way; like Little Red Riding Hood, she’s been thrown to the wolves – men two or three times her size physically – and yet she never fails to best them intellectually or in hand-to-hand combat.  When the women in earlier Max pictures – especially those with such ravishing underwear-model good looks – might’ve found themselves subject to some of the darker wishes of evil men, Furiosa is never in any jeopardy.  She always thinks better, plots better, fights better, glares better, and survives better than any adversary … and, sorry, that’s just not believable.  Max was constantly outmatched – even roughed up more than a time or two – and even left for dead, from what I can recall.  While such disadvantages were generally used textually to give him the chance to rise again (as he always does), this petite yet scrappy woman suffers practically no setbacks.  The same fate never seems even remotely possible with Furiosa, and that just doesn’t seem authentic.
​

Of course, I’m willing to concede that some of my misgivings could be owed to the ‘girl boss’ fatigue that fandom comes up against quite often these days.  Generally, I could honestly care less about the gender of the heroes and how it’s used in films, but I do always require – as an audience member – that the moments be handled logically within the rules set forth by both the film universe and the galaxy at large.  These are myths, and they’re all crafted with an artifice that’s meant to please an audience, so I’m apt to root for the underdog just as much as the next Tom, Dick, Harry, Marcia, Jan, or Cindy.  Yet even I will stop short if and when I feel like too much is being asked of me in that delicate exchange between belief and required acceptance; and – on that point – Furiosa might prove to be a bridge too far with society.
 
At some point, men are required in every civilization, even those that have fallen.  Be it as protectors, equals, or as the necessary seed to propagate its survival, men will always be here.  This doesn’t mean you can’t root for the ladies, but – at some point – balance should be achieved.  Whether you like that or not personally, professionally, or ideologically doesn’t matter.  Darwin proves it as the foundation to our very shared existence.
 
Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga (2024) was produced by Warner Bros. and Kennedy Miller Mitchell.  The film is presently playing on the silver screen in countries around the world.  As for the technical specifications?  While I’m no trained video expert, I thought the sights-and-sounds to the completed pictures were phenomenal.  As for the special features?  As this one was viewed in theaters, there are no special features under consideration.
 
Alas … only mildly recommended.
 
Overwrought and overlong, I found a great deal of Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga disappointing because – as a stand-alone story – it never justified the need for its own existence.  Instead, it piggybacked itself onto an existing saga by trying to shed a lot of unnecessary light on an otherwise clearly defined character that already existed sufficiently.  It brought nothing new to this Apocalyptic world; and – despite some of the usual top-notch visions from Miller – it spun its own wheels for the better part of a bloated 150-minute running time.
 
In the interests of fairness, I’m beholden to no one for this review of Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga (2024) as I took in a screening at the local theater entirely on my own dime.

​-- EZ

Cheap-And-Lowdown Internal Searches By Hashtags
#AlylaBrowne 
#AnyaTaylorJoy 
#Apocalypse 
#ChrisHemsworth 
#ElsaPataky 
#GeorgeMiller 
#TomBurke 
​

As I recently opined, it isn’t easy to define what inevitably makes a production into a Cult Film.
 
Of course, there are some obvious traits.  Typically, the flick doesn’t perform as hoped with its original box office run (though this may not always be the case).  I’ve heard it long argued that the story should rely on the elements of genre entertainment, perhaps even venturing deeply into the territory of exploitation at some point.  While Horror, Fantasy, and Science Fiction efforts do make up the biggest (and grossest!) contingent of cult efforts, I’ve seen a few dramas and romances that dabble in like-minded sensibilities.  They may not be cult, but they come reasonably close.  Stilll, the single greatest descriptor is that over time the story defies the odds and builds a loyal and passionate fan base which exists largely to recruit others to watch what they insist is a rare one-of-a-kind event too good to be missed if not too crazy to be believed.
 
See what I mean?  The business of classifying films ain’t always easy.
 
In fact, I’ve often suggested to readers that over the past few decades there are a handful of projects that have been embraced by the cult community even though the stories kinda/sorta defy the usual conventions.  Weird for the sakes of weirdness appeals to folks hungry for something different, but I’ve still insisted (for my own sake) that such insanity must be pervasive in order for the feature to truly be cult.  Merely injected a few cult(ish) ideas into something that could otherwise be conventional isn’t enough; and the film’s ingenuity with its subject matter should never be outshone by any other factor lest the storyteller risk the chance at true longevity with folks willing to go where no one has gone before.
 
All of this brings me to the discussion of Cemetery Man (1994), a kinda/sorta Comedy and a kinda/sorta Horror that never quite finds what it’s ever truly about (in my humble opinion) but damn sure tries harder than many that have ever tried.  Directed by Michele Soavi, Cemetery Man is a vision contemplating life itself by way of exploring death as its dynamic duo – Francesco Dellamorte and his sidekick Gnaghi – struggle against some unexplained dark forces trying to bring the dead back to life after they’ve been put in the ground of a sacred Italian cemetery.   Along their merry way, they make friends and enemies, they experience love and heartache, and it all reaches a climax that might have some audience members scratching their noggins whilst others give an affectionate nod indicating some measure of universal understanding.
 
Whatever the case, I’d still argue that there’s been nothing else quite like it delivered to screens … ever.
 
And that, my friends, is why Cemetery Man might just be the textbook definition of a cult film.
 
(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 cemetery man must kill the dead a second time when they become zombies.”
​

The dirty little secret here is that Cemetery Man both has a plot, and it doesn’t.
 
Based on a novel and a comic strip of the Dylan Dog character, Man chiefly explores the nocturnal adventures of Francesco Dellamorte (as played by Rupert Everett), a somewhat simple man employed by the village of Buffalora to both bury the dead and – ahem – make sure they stay that way.  Apparently, the deceased have begun rising from their graves; and these Returners are coming back with an appetite for – you guessed it – human flesh.  Because it’s a largely rural existence, Dellamorte admits (in voiceover) that they’ve no way to know if this same phenomenon is taking place around the world; and he’s perfectly with such blissful ignorance.  All that fundamentally matters to him is doing his job, and that’s precisely why Gianni Romoli’s script ‘gums up the works’ by having this solitary and somewhat hard-boiled man fall desperately in love with a beautiful widow – ‘She’ (the suitably dreamy Anna Falchi, who plays multiple roles in the picture) – whose aged husband was recently put in the ground.
 
Though She initially rebukes his advances, the lady eventually succumbs to his charms once Dellamorte introduces her to the cemetery’s mystical ossuary – basically, a collection of bones stored in a curiously picturesque crypt.  Once inside, she’s overwhelmed with the kinda/sorta lyrical quality of mortality; and she lowers her defenses long enough to deliver an impromptu kiss, one that ignites the passions buried within both of them.  It isn’t long after that they consummate their affair – under the moon and right on the grave her dearly departed is buried beneath – an event that spectrally brings her former husband back with that aforementioned hunger for human meat.  He bites her, essentially dooming She to share his Fate, and Dellamorte finds himself alone once again.  (Honestly, there’s a bit more to this, but I do try not to spoil the particulars.  Suffice it to say, She both does and doesn’t go far away … that’ll mean more once you watch.)
 
So Cemetery Man’s most consistent plotline remains Dellamorte’s shared efforts to both dispatch these Returners while also trying to find love again in the arms of She who keeps showing up again and again – living and dead – in the guise of other women.  Because our protagonist is obviously bound to his mortal responsibilities and will forever be denied true love, these subsequent affairs are also destined to fail: no matter what he does to try and please women, he continually finds himself always on the ‘butt end’ of a bad joke, whether he’s tried to become impotent to please one lover or realizing he’s been seduced by a lady of the night in another.  His is a life of duty – not so much honor – and there can be little room for affairs of the heart in such dark corners of life.
 
But as I mentioned above, Dellamorte isn’t entirely alone: he eeks out his existence alongside his cemetery co-worker Gnaghi (François Hadji-Lazaro), a dim-witted kinda/sorta mute who exists to largely to shovel dirt and eat if screen time is any indication.  Like Dellamorte, Gnaghi’s emotional attachments never end well – he has a brief flirtation with the Mayor’s daughter but the fetching Valentina (Fabiana Formica) winds up being little more than a reanimated head living in the hollowed-out shell of a broken television set.  Because the universal powers that be have decreed that only Dellamorte and Gnaghi can be together (platonically, of course), their respective romances wind up being little more than comical filler as opposed to any greater statement on human existence.
 
Where Cemetery Man fails for me is that it never really finds a single story to tell.  It's all fragment strung together loosely around a few central ideas, and this will likely always turn off a certain percentage of any audience.  
​

As I mentioned, there’s a plague of the dead rising from their graves, and yet it’s given absolutely zero explanation.  Rather, it simply is a phenomenon – one that definitely requires a certain upkeep – and who better to be tasked with keeping an eye out for zombies than our two heroes hired to maintain the grounds?  That basic concept is used entirely to get this clever little potboiler boiling, and it’s almost as if everyone involved creatively accepts it as the status quo, never seeking out answers of any kind for the dreaded miracle.  Instead, Man explores the rather routine lives of two men paid to deal with such extraordinary circumstance; and never a scene or a sentence is wasted on trying to explain it.  It just is, and it’s just being dealt with as is.
 
Ultimately, that might be the only message the film tries to shuck through all of this: accept your lot in life and deal with it.  Dellamorte and Gnaghi’s highs and lows never become something that one or the other can’t solve (to a degree) either by oneself or on behalf of a trusted friend; so maybe all Cemetery Man sought to deliver to audiences was a philosophy of ‘serve thyself,’ and everything will come out fine in the big finish.  I’m still inclined to think otherwise, though, as the last reel serves up a closing scene that – while I again won’t spoil it – suggests that there’s far more afoot in director Soavi’s imagination than he wanted viewers to mull over.  Do we all exist in a bubble – one that’s perfectly acceptable – until someone new arrives and upsets the cosmic order of things?  Or is the fact that we do exist in that same bubble the source of everything that ails us?
 
Mind you: I’m not here to answer such a quandary.  My task as a reviewer is to give you the plusses and minuses to any individual experience; and – on that front – wowza.  Cemetery Man is an incredibly visual experience, one abounding with some fabulous practical effects, scenic but occasionally claustrophobic setting, and interesting performances.  Falchi – in one of her earliest works here – is magnetic on screen, a face crying out in every role to be watched.  Hadji-Lazaro makes the most of his subordinate status, so much so that it grows increasingly hard to watch Dellamorte and not wonder where his partner is and what he’s up to presently.  Everett gives an almost hard-boiled yet comic edge to the young man hired to manage the dead in ways he never conceived plausible, and at all times he hits every note as a worker just doin’ his job come Hell or high water.  They make for a great trio – in a handful of ways – and I can’t imagine any other faces assigned to the project.
 
There’s an awful lot that’s been written about Cemetery Man over years.  (Just do a bit of Googling, and you’ll see what I mean.)  The passage of time has been pretty kind to it – I’m understanding that it didn’t achieve the results the studio wanted at first blush, and it isn’t hard to see why given that there’s really no main throughline to any of it – and it continues to be discovered as one of the screen’s finer Cult entries ever.  I’ll agree that I’ve never quite seen anything like it – a film that survives and thrives despite so many possible detractors – and I’d have to give the biggest kudos to Soavi for delivering something that played by its own rules and eventually seized the day … albeit a decade or two later.
 
There really isn’t anything quite like it.  And that’s saying volumes.
​

Cemetery Man (1994) was produced by Audifilm, Urania Film, K.G. Productions, Canal+, Silvio Berlusconi Communications, Bibo Productions, and Eurimages.  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, I thought that the film’s sights-and-sounds were incredible from start to finish.  Lastly, if you’re looking for special features?  Well, the list is a bit extensive, so in order to be as succinct as possible I’m doing the ol’ copy-and-paste from the press materials as published on Blu-ray.com.
​

• NEW 4K RESTORATION OF THE FILM
• DOLBY ATMOS AUDIO TRACK, plus English 5.1, English Stereo, Italian Stereo
• Audio Commentary By Director Michele Soavi And Screenwriter Gianni Romoli
• At The Graves – Interview With Michele Soavi
• Of Love And Death – Interview With Actor Rupert Everett
• She – Interview With Actress Anna Falchi
• Archival Making-Of
• A Matter Of Life And Death – Interview With Gianni Romoli
• Graveyard Shift – Interview With Cinematographer Mauro Marchetti
• Head Over Heels – Interview With Actress Fabiana Formica
• The Living Dead Mayor – Interview With Actor Stefano Masciarelli
• The Music From The Underground – Interview With Composer Riccardo Biseo
• Resurrection – Interview With Special FX Artist Sergio Stivaletti
• Cemetery Gates – Interview With Set Designer Antonello Geleng
• Grave Encounters – Interview With Alan Jones, Author Of Profondo Argento
• Italian Trailer
• English Trailer
• Subtitles: English and English SDH
• 4K BLU-RAY: REGION-FREE
• BLU-RAY DISC ONE: REGION-A "LOCKED"
• BLU-RAY DISC TWO: REGION-FREE

​I can attest that the cited interviews were actually quite good, rising above the usual ‘promotional fare’ and instead concentrating on the memories of those involved in the production process at the time.  Those alone were very refreshing as compared to what we’re given with contemporary extras.  Well done, Severin!
 
Recommended.
 
I don’t think there’s anyone who could effectively argue against Cemetery Man (1994) at best being about as pure an example of a ‘cult film’ as there could be.  While Michele Soavi may’ve had a clear vision for what he wanted to the experience to be, I’d still suggest that there a bits and pieces here and there which ultimately serve more as distractions from what could’ve been a simple main premise – maintaining the balance between the living and the dead – and wind up pointing this thing in several related directions out of storytelling necessity.  Yes, it’s all very, very, very surreal, so much so most folks might not notice that they’ve just been dragged through a theatrical fever dream – which might not make much sense – instead of the usual cinematic fare.  A unique experience, indeed, and one that may never quite be replicated.
 
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Severin Films provided me with a complimentary Ultra 4K HD Blu-ray of Cemetery Man (1994) 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

I’ve always said that I’m not much of a fan of anything resembling hard Science Fiction.
 
I know, I know: casual readers might be a bit confused, asking themselves what the difference between SciFi and hard SciFi could possibly be and even if it truly matters.  Rest assured it isn’t always a question easily answered, and I’ve even seen it bantered about by fans to some mild controversy.  Generally speaking, I’ve always thought that Science Fiction typically focuses more on characters enclosed within circumstances or settings that really only use them to spin a yarn; by contrast, hard SciFi might take an up-close-and-personal approach to investigating the actual limits of science albeit with fictional packaging.  Hard SciFi grabs on and holds those ideas – engineering, physics, medicine, etc. – and pushes the story to the limit by fathoming the potential of them, leaving characters to serve as little more than springboards to the intellectual discussion.
 
(Like I said, it ain’t always an easy question to answer!)
 
Now, there can be a great deal of crossover between hard and soft – as there can be with almost any genres – but I think it kinda/sorta goes without saying that casual audience members aren’t all that interested in the ideas; rather, typical folks want to get to know these characters, what makes them strong or weak, and why they’ve been thrown together into this narrative adventure.  When the average Joe or Jill just wants to come home after a hard day’s work, have a meal, and plunk themselves in front of the television, the last thing they really want to do is have to think about some immeasurable concepts.  Of course, I’m not casting any judgments here – there is no right or wrong – and it’s fair to suggest that complex ideas don’t always make for a easy thirty, sixty, or one hundred and twenty minute experience.
 
This might be why a program like ReGenesis rarely gets a lot of discussion in most corners of the Information Superhighway.  Its first episode, titled “Baby Bomb,” premiered in Canada on October 24, 2004; and the series ran for four seasons (through 2008).  A quick look at the show’s IMDB.com profile suggests that it was both highly rated critically – presently showing a 7.9 out of 10.0 average on the site’s quality index – as well as artistically, garnering an incredible 9 award wins against a mind-boggling 49 nominations.  I’d heard of it from several readers – even come across it several times in my reading – but I’d never seen a single episode … and that’s now been righted as I took in its inaugural adventure just this past evening.
 
(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 episode’s IMDB.com page citation:
“Geneticist David Sandstrom is the chief scientist at the prestigious virology/microbiology NORBAC laboratory which is a joint enterprise between the USA, Canada, and Mexico and is responsible for countering bioterrorism.  David’s nightmare day begins when his daughter arrives unexpectedly and catches him having sex with Twyla.  Whilst trying to reconcile her, he receives a call from NORBAC about an Ebola outbreak that seems to be heading south along Highway 17 on its way to Toronto, killing everyone in its path!  If this wasn’t enough, on his way to NORBAC, he is intercepted by a teenager who claims to be the son of an internationally renowned geneticist and a clone.  The day goes from bad to worse as the death toll continues to rise, his daughter refuses to go home, and the teenager turns into a stalker!  David and his team struggle to determine how cowpox can suddenly become as virulent as Ebola but not contain any of the Ebola DNA.  Eventually, David has a brilliant idea and uses the analogy of ‘Grate Aural Sects’ and ‘Great Oral Sex’ to explain the new hybrid disease, and the race is on to prove it!”
 
Erm … wow.  Am I right?
 
One of the crowing rules an old college professor of my misspent youth was that if you can’t describe a plot in one or two sentences faithfully to the central premise, then you’ve overthought everything … from the set-up, through its character interactions, and the inevitably delivery.  While I’m certainly not throwing stones at anyone at or with IMDB.com for believing that summary is absolutely necessary, I can assure you that – having seen “Baby Bomb” – there is an awful lot going on … perhaps far too much, in fact.
​

Despite being hailed as one of the finest Science Fiction programs in the history of television, Star Trek: The Next Generation has its detractors who have argued occasionally that they felt “lost in the weeds” with some of the series’ meatier ideas.  While everything understands what time travel is, they might feel a bit disassociated from having to sit through speeches about how many chronitons it takes to, say, screw in a lightbulb.  Notions of both ‘time’ and ‘anti-time’ might seem fundamental to screenwriters who conceived them, but these ideas don’t always translate neatly into character and/or plot arcs.  And the number of times Geordi LaForge had to wax on in technobabble about what subspace frequencies were doing to the ship’s inertial dampeners likely kept a percentage of channel-flippers from every seeking out and exploring the show ever again.
 
 Without getting to deeply into storytelling mechanics, I’m still unashamed to admit that there were a few sequences within “Baby Bomb” that just honestly escaped me.  (As I’ve already confessed above, I’m not always a deep thinker when it comes to my entertainment choices.)  Dr. David Sandstrom (as played by Peter Outerbridge) might be a certified genius, but so much of what he tried to explain when he was amongst his coworkers and peers was well beyond my grasp.  Oh, I appreciated the occasional analogy – those always help cut super-science up into palatable morsels – and yet the only time I truly grasped where he was going with anything was when he was back at home slumming the science up for his teenage daughter Lilith (the ‘late’ Ellen Page who now goes by Elliot).
 
Boy, did I feel like the simpleton!
 
To the show’s credit, scribes Avrum Jacobson and Jason Sherman populated their SciFi procedural with characters who seem like they could be authentic.  They imbue a few of them with enough basic human traits – as Asperger sufferer, a Muslim who seems to be on the receiving end of some government harassment, etc. – and I find myself wanting to believe they’re on the right side of history here.  The problem is that there is far, far, far too much science for this lame brain for any of it to be all that relatable.  I get why we’re all in a rush to figure it out, but when all you offer up are a group of brainiacs sitting about a table spouting inexplicable theories as the foundation of your drama?
 
Ugh.
 
Of course, this is only some casual observations on a reasonably long-running show’s pilot episode, so it all could change.  I realize that the realism the cast and crew were striving to represent might have caused those who assembled this to heighten the drama without focusing in any conceivable measure on humanity; this could all be righted in the follow-up installment as the pilot concludes with a young mother stepping with her infant child seemingly into harm’s reach.  I’ll forgive a bit of clumsiness if that’s the case; and yet if I were a casual channel surfer who discovered this in real broadcast time I’m not entirely certain I would’ve tuned in next week.
 
How’s that for honesty, folks?
 
ReGenesis was produced by Shaftesbury Films and a whole host of other participants.  (For a complete list, check out the series’ citation on IMDB.com.)  The show is presently available for streaming on a variety of platforms, including Amazon Prime (where I’m watching it as a subscriber).  As for the technical specifications?  While I’m no trained video expert, I thought that the sights-and-sounds were pretty exceptional, all things considered.  As for the special features?  As I’m viewing this via streaming, there are no special features under consideration.
 
Mildly recommended.
 
Alas, ReGenesis might not turn out to be my cup o’ tea if “Baby Bomb” is any indication.  While it’s an interesting first hour, it’s also a bit sloppy with no real balance between the ideas and the characters, requiring a viewer to follow exceedingly closely in order to truly comprehend what’s happening scientifically.  Since most folks don’t tune in to evening programming to be re-educated – much less tackle a degree in virology – I’m surprised that this one was on as long as it was … but that also bodes well for the fact that it must’ve built an audience.  I’m hoping the next chapter makes a bit more sense.

​-- EZ

As I’ve come to understand, Nightwatch (1994) was a bit of a Cult film sensation upon its release in its native country (Denmark) back in its day. 
 
IMDB.com indicates that the flick scored an impressive ten wins across film festivals and the Danish Film Awards, making it just the kind of experience that audiences of Horror-laced Thrillers might want to visit again and again.  Well, its original creator – director and screenwriter Ole Bornedal – decided to do something better: thirty years later, he crafted a big screen theatrical follow-up – Nightwatch: Demons Are Forever (2023) – for those who might still be interested.  And he even managed to convince a few familiar faces to return to such storied heights.
 
Now, in fairness to me and my reading audience, I’ll confess that I’ve not seen the original Nightwatch, nor had I even heard of it.  (Mind you: my experience with this sequel was solid enough that I might have to seek it out for a viewing if for no other reason that it might be kinda/sorta fun to see how it all truly began.)  But if it resembles even partially the tight narrative and solid pacing of the follow-up, then I’m guessing it’s probably earned its reputation properly.  While it certainly appears to be a somewhat kinder and simpler yarn than this one is, knowing that it all springs from the same intellectual loins definitely bodes well.
 
(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:
“Martin’s daughter, Emma, takes up a night watch job to find out what happened to her parents almost thirty years ago.  A meeting with Wörmer in his cell pulls the serial killer out of his coma and sets in motion a chain of fateful events.”
 
One fundamental truth that I think a great number of critics and film scholars struggle with – as opposed to, say, the general viewing population – is that we don’t always see the need for a sequel.
 
I know, I know: but if a property is a proven commodity, then why shouldn’t it have a follow-up?
 
Well, the answer is a bit complicated.  Generally, I try to caution my readership that sequels more often than not are inferior properties.  While they might circumstantially tap into what made a first picture uniquely special, they often fail to justify the need for their own existence within the wider fictional universe.  The worst of them, in fact, feel a bit bloated or like they were thrown together as an outright cash grab by producers and a motion picture studio hungry for increased profits.  If a picture truly leaves room for continuation, then I’m willing to give all involved a bit more legroom to run about; I just think that I’ve been disappointed more often than I’ve been overwhelmed.
 
So the beauty for me in evaluating Nightwatch: Demons Are Forever (2023) is that I’m only superficially aware of the fact of it being a sequel.  This sets me up to examine it entirely as an original vehicle – unlike a few others who’ve penned reviews online – and maybe it even positions me to be a bit fairer.  After all: it’s my first brush with this world and its players, so I’m bringing absolutely no baggage to any of the affair.
​

Thirty years after he survived a serial killer’s campaign of Horror, Martin (played by Nikolaj Coster-Waldau) continues to struggle with the deep emotional scars of what he witnessed.  Unable to fully shake the memory of what he saw and experienced, he remains a somewhat broken man.  His wife – unable to endure the pain any longer – ultimately committed suicide, leaving her lifeless body to be found by their daughter Emma (Fanny Leander Bornedal); and now the young woman believes she, too, might have inherited the gene that makes her susceptible to taking her own life should she endure similar hardships.
 
In a bid to understand what her parents went through, Emma takes the same job that her father did decades ago.  Hoping that she might instill in her dad a new desire to go on living, she decides to sneak into the psychiatric facility housing the famed killer – Peter Wörmer (Ulf Pilgaard) – and denounce him directly to his face, robbing the villain of any emotional weight he still might hold over Martin.  But – in the process – the young woman inadvertently unearths an all-new impetus for the murderer to strike yet again … and this time not everyone involved will get out alive.
 
Though I did find some of the film’s relationships a bit undercooked, Nightwatch hooked me early on, and it never quite let up.  Yes, I could find a few scenes here and there that were a bit longer than necessary – along with a secondary player that didn’t quite serve enough of a purpose to truly be in there – but those quibbles are minor when measured against the ideas and execution.  Director Bornedal makes the most of some reasonably bare bones settings – i.e. a grim morgue interior, a fairly non-descript psychiatric ward, etc. – and he goes to great lengths to show how such ordinary locales might be the last place any of us would want to be alone.  He paces out the quieter moments – i.e. Emma’s search for answers, Martin’s self-imposed exile in a darkened apartment, etc. – allowing viewers to come along peacefully until the action starts.  Those sequences are, inevitably, what we’re all waiting for; but he bides his time, only releasing them upon us when he’s good and ready.
 
Yes, I think a few snippets could’ve been excised here and there, and yet that doesn’t mean that Nightwatch would’ve necessarily been any better or any worse.  Discoveries take time – there are a good handful, and revealing who’s who is always a delicate balance – and I think he made more good choices than he did bad.  While a few developments might seem a bit too theatrical for my tastes, the director pushed through those artificial moments and made the more authentic ones feel like they were worth the wait.
 
Nightwatch: Demons Are Forever (2023) was produced by Nordisk Film.  According to a quick Google.com search, the film is presently available for viewing on a variety of subscription streaming platforms.  As for the technical specifications?  While I’m no trained video expert, I found the sights-and-sounds to the full presentation to be pretty spectacular.  As for the special features?  Given that I viewed this one via a streaming link, there were no special features to consider.
 
Highly recommended.
 
As I said above, I was completely unaware of Nightwatch: Demons Are Forever (2023) being a sequel … but the dirty little secret is that might’ve actually improved my enjoyment considerably.  I have explored a bit of criticism online from folks familiar with both, and the consensus seems to be that Nightwatch (1994) scores a bit higher than its follow-up.  The performances are quite good – along with some deliberate direction and pacing – and there was just enough lingering darkness to keep me focused on events transpiring in film time.  Grim … but all of it ends with a sense of redemption, proving that maybe demons need not be forever after all.
 
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Shudder provided me with complimentary streaming access to Nightwatch: Demons Are Forever (2023) by request for the expressed purpose of completing this review.  Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.

​-- EZ

I haven’t always enjoyed both watching and reviewing Horror projects as I do these days.
 
In fact, I’m quite certain that I’ve mentioned in this space that Horror – as a genre – just doesn’t much scare me.  Far too many storytellers have invested far too much of their visions with effects trickery and/or buckets of blood when, inevitably, I’m scared more by what they only hint at and don’t directly show than are most.  Oh, sure, I can appreciate the visceral quality of some evil deeds brought to life theatrically the way so many good flicks do; but my point is that more can be accomplished with a good story, great atmosphere, and solid players than most are willing to explore … so I tend to still shy away from stuff that looks a bit too greasy or underlit because those gimmicks just don’t tickle my fancy … nor do they turn my stomach.
 
Now, a working foundation will always capture my interest, and I think that’s initially the best thing I can say about Deathdream (1974).  Originally released under the title of Dead Of Night, the flick was an early cinematic yarn that used the backdrop of the Vietnam War (albeit loosely) to explore what’s basically a ghost story: a soldier dying – Andy – in a frenzied skirmish on the front lines hears the voice of his mother calling out to him, and – voila! – he’s somehow transported back home (or is he?) looking mostly like he did the day he left.  But Andy’s come back with something else – an insatiable appetite for blood – and it’s that little something extra that does give a good deal of the film the backbone needed to built, at least, a cult following.  It looks like it did; and this is why Blue Underground sought to resurrect their cut with a fiftieth anniversary release for home video.
 
Did they need to?
 
Well, that’s always an argument weighed by critics, and if Rotten Tomatoes and IMDB.com are any indication then it would seem that there’s a clamoring for more of this, though I’ve not come across anyone even remotely familiar with the title.  (Again, I’ll chalk that up to the fact that I haven’t always dabbled in Horrific circles!)  Having now watched it completely, I’m still a bit aghast at its high marks, considering it good but not all that great.  I don’t always agree, and yet I’m perfectly comfortable sharing with you (below) what I think might make this Deathdream worth your attention.
 
(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 soldier killed in the Vietnam War inexplicably shows up at his family home on the night of his death.”
​

Alas, I’m still not entirely certain that I believe in ghosts.  Though I don’t discount the possibility, I – like many of you – tend to go with either my gut or what I can see.  Given that I’ve not seen any, this lack of experience leads my gut to question what the afterlife could all be about and just why anyone who has passed on would necessarily want to come back to the messiness that is life itself.  I guess I just don’t understand the appeal.
 
However, I do appreciate the breadth of stories that presuppose how our thoughts, fears, wishes, and desires might stir up the potential for spectral interactions; and I think that’s part and parcel of what makes Deathdream as interesting a diversion as it is.  Life and death affects us all; and the film postulates just how one mother’s strong emotional connection to her son has conjured up a little something unearthly, whether she intended it or not.
 
Andy Brooks (played by Richard Backus) is serving his country on the front lines of the Vietnam War.  One night, he and his platoon find themselves caught in a firefight; and they’re struck down in the resulting crossfire.  It just so happens that back home at his family digs, his father Charles (John Marley), his mother Christine (Lynn Carlin), and his sister Cathy (Anya Ormsby) are sitting around the supper table, dreaming about the day the young man will finally be home.  To their dismay, a military officer appears at their door with a telegram, informing them that Andy was killed in action.  Torn apart with grief, Christine goes to bed chanting a prayer for her son’s return, beckoning him to come back from the beyond.
 
In the middle of the night, a noise startles Charles awake.  He heads downstairs with his wife and daughter close behind … only to find that Andy has returned … and he appears to be in perfect health!
 
So it should go without saying that a discerning viewer must accept the premise fairly early on in Deathdream that prayer works; otherwise this house of cards couldn’t keep itself standing.  Given the state of the federal government, it isn’t hard to imagine that perhaps a mistake was somehow made – that Andy wasn’t there and shot in combat – and I also suspect this may’ve resulted in the film’s popularity back in the day.  After all, Uncle Sam got us into a bad war to begin with; is it really that hard to contemplate that they might’ve made a huge mistake in cataloguing the dead?  The fact that no one suggests contacting the Army asking for an explanation – a bit of a miss, if you ask me – so don’t look for the rest of this dark tale to unfold with any degree of narrative realism.
 
Still, there’s a bit more than takes place regarding Andy’s kinda/sorta bizarre behaviors, and none of it gets questioned.  Why is he so desperately quiet?  Why is he so socially withdrawn?  Why does he wish to have nothing to do with any of his loved ones, and why does he insist on just wiling away the time in the rocking chair of his bedroom?  Why is he so pale?  Why does he wish to ignore his former circumstances?  Why doesn’t he want to talk about the ride home?  And why did he just choke the family’s beloved dog to death?
 
(Without a doubt, the film’s centerpiece is the dog scene.  It’s handled with a particular degree of gruesomeness – not bloody, just shockingly staged with an almost documentarian’s approach – but I can’t fathom why no one tried to save the poor pooch!)
​

The film is directed by Bob Clark, a storyteller who has one of the more interesting catalogues of many from his era.  I know him best from his efforts to bring the Holiday/Classic A Christmas Story (1983) to the screen; and – like many of you – it’s a picture I’m sure I’ve seen annually ever since.  But he also helmed both Porky’s (1981) and its somewhat dark sequel Porky’s II: The Next Day (1983) around the same time that A Christmas Story was also on his plate.  1987’s From The Hip is also another particular effective film – a courtroom comedy that seems to have been mostly forgotten, which I find sad as it houses some great performances from Judd Nelson, Elizabeth Perkins, and John Hurt – that’s about as different thematically from those as they are from one another.  I never would’ve imagined that Deathdream would be one of the man’s earliest projects, but … well … there it is.
 
Similarly, Alan Ormsby – its screenwriter – also possesses a resume with a diverse library of stories.   His name’s attached to the Cult/Horror Cat People (1982) around the same time that he was crafting Porky’s II into shootable format; and 1980’s underrated My Bodyguard was a sleeper hit that explored bullying at a time when it wasn’t part of the Hollywood ideological agenda.  In 1987, he helped the Mouse House launch a lesser SciFi franchise with his script for the first Not Quite Human starring Jay Underwood and Alan Thicke.  The 1990’s saw the Ormsby exploring the dark side of education as he spearheaded The Substitute franchise for the big screen wherein a grizzled soldier took the unwelcome task of shaping the young high school minds of tomorrow.
 
My point in discussing the breadth of these projects is to underscore that, together, Clark and Ormsby know their way around more than several blocks.  Each has explored some dark and light highs and lows of the human condition; but there isn’t a great deal in either of their backgrounds that point to something as occasionally feral as is Deathdream.  (Yes, I’m aware of Clark’s Black Christmas.)  Together, these two manage to muster up some wonderfully dark atmosphere, and it honestly happens with what seems to be very little effort.  I guess it’s mostly my surprise here that these two paired up to give audiences a look at elements decidedly supernatural, especially given the kinda/sorta formulaic finale this film delivers.  I won’t spoil it, but let’s just say graveyards have been overused in filmdom since their inception.
 
The downside to all of this is neither man really felt it necessary to tell us exactly what Andy is and/or was.  What they do with him is all that matters … and … what can I say?  I like to know a bit more about things that go bump in the night.  He’s part zombie.  He’s part vampire.  He’s part corpse.  But we never get the full scoop, and that’s a miss.
 
Erm … pardon me, readers, if I breach a sensitive topic, but I’ve read a fair bit of commentary online about how Deathdream is one of the earliest Horror flicks to kinda/sorta breach the topic of PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder) right within the main narrative.
 
Now – again, I mean no disrespect to anyone – I don’t want to mince words here, folks, but I’ve got to be intellectually honest.  Yes, on one level, I suspect that those who’ve made such an observation were trying to do so out of respect for the tale as it’s told.  However, my issue with it is that this isn’t the real Andy – as best as I or anyone should be able to surmise – he’s a conjured-up tempestuous spirit – a kinda/sorta golem with loose vampiric appetites – and perhaps such arguments place far too too much weight on his manufactured psyche (and psychosis) as we’ve absolutely no indication that he served his country in any demonstrable capacity.  In fact, I see Andy as little more than the figment of his mother’s imagination – it was her prayer that called him into being in the first place – and, as such, there’s very little evidence that he has any of her fallen son’s authentic memories.
 
Critics, scholars, and (ahem!) film nerds do like to fashion such dissertations about how art reflects reality; and – on that front (and probably that front alone) – I certainly understand where such intelligentsia may’ve devised such a theory.  But this is Horror and theatrical Fantasy, and I would no more expect the product of a grieving mother’s pain to know all that was knowable about her deceased child.  He’s a spectral thing brought forward from the darkness at her behest; while the ties to, perhaps, family and friends – which she would’ve known – stand to good reason.  Anything else?  Well … methinks we’re kicking a corpse, if you know what I mean.
​

Deathdream (aka Dead Of Night) (1974) was produced by Dead Walk Company, Impact Films, and Quadrant Films.  DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at Blue Underground.  As for the technical specifications?  While I’m no trained video expert, I found the sights-and-sounds to this Ultra 4K HD presentation to be surprisingly good: there are a fair amount of nighttime sequences that could’ve been a bit more defined, and I suspect the quality is likely owed to sourcing issues.  Lastly, if you’re looking for special features?  Blue Underground doesn’t disappoint; and – in order to do it justice – I’m doing the ol’ copy-and-paste from their press release recently printed on Blu-ray.com:
DISC ONE - 4KBLU-RAY

• EXCLUSIVE NEW 4K 16-BIT RESTORATION FROM THE ORIGINAL CAMERA NEGATIVE
• DOLBY VISION/HDR PRESENTATION OF THE FILM
• NEW Audio Commentary #3 with Film Historians Troy Howarth and Nathaniel Thompson
• Audio Commentary #1 with Co-Producer/Director Bob Clark
• Audio Commentary #2 with Writer/Make-Up Artist (Uncredited) Alan Ormsby
• Theatrical Trailer
• Audio: English (1.0 DTS-HD MA)
• Subtitles: English SDH, French, Spanish

DISC TWO - BLU-RAY'

• EXCLUSIVE NEW 4K 16-BIT RESTORATION FROM THE ORIGINAL CAMERA NEGATIVE
• NEW The First Andy – Interview with Actor Gary Swanson
• NEW Audio Commentary #3 with Film Historians Troy Howarth and Nathaniel Thompson
• Audio Commentary #1 with Co-Producer/Director Bob Clark
• Audio Commentary #2 with Writer/Make-Up Artist (Uncredited) Alan Ormsby
• A Recollection With Star Anya Liffey and Writer/Make-Up Artist Alan Ormsby
• Notes For A Homecoming – Interview with Composer Carl Zittrer
• Flying Down To Brooksville – Interview with Production Manager John 'Bud' Cardos
• Tom Savini: The Early Years
• Deathdreaming – Interview with Star Richard Backus
• Screen Test with Original Andy, Gary Swanson
• Alan Ormsby Student Film
• Alternate Opening Titles
• Theatrical Trailer
• Still Galleries
• Audio: English (1.0 DTS-HD MA)
• Subtitles: English SDH, French, Spanish
• REGION-FREE
• Limited Edition embossed slipcover and reversible sleeve with alternate artwork (First Pressing Only!)

 
Recommended.
 
Once again, your faithful editor finds himself a bit at odds with the majority of the marketplace.  Whereas quite a few smilers absolutely love Deathdream (1974), I give you my word that I only like it … I like it for what it is, I like it for what it tried to do, and I like it for what it ultimately achieves.  It’s one of those imperfect little gems that still means something to so many that fifty years later it’s still being celebrated with a 50th anniversary release.  While even I will concede that means something, I’ll also argue that I’ve seen a smattering of these ideas put to better use elsewhere.  Performances are good enough, and a few shocking scenes make it a palatable ride for true fans of Horror.
 
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Blue Underground provided me with a Ultra 4K HD + Blu-ray of Deathdream (aka Dead Of Night) (1974) 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

Mysteries spun within the world of genre programming can be time consuming.  That’s why spinning such an intricate web within a Science Fiction and Fantasy property like Amazon Prime’s Outer Range is risky business, indeed.
 
To be frank, I’ve really only experienced one time-jumping series that pretty much got it right from start-to-finish, and that was Netflix’s pretty stellar Dark.  While I’m on record as having issues with the program’s third season – a series of episodes that loosely sought to reshape timelines in such a way that perhaps the storytellers bit off far more than needed to be chewed – the show very effectively wrapped its various plotlines tightly around a core group of characters, so much so that you couldn’t quite separate one from the other if you tried.  Syfy’s adaptation of 12 Monkeys also made good use of the basic ‘chronology-hopping’ constructs, and still I found its first and last season’s a bit clunky for widely different reasons.  Of course, there have been other franchises that have used time travel, parallel realities, and related concepts similarly (Fox TV’s stellar Fringe comes to mind), but I can only stand by what I’ve seen and found compelling, leaving everything else aside because far too many enterprises pick and choose what rules to follow, making them decidedly inferior if not downright confusing.
 
What makes Outer Range different is that – by all intents and appearances – it’s a SciFi journey composed entirely of ‘salt of the Earth’ types.  There isn’t a brainiac among this rural bunch; and yet they’re all kinda/sorta ‘in’ on the loose mechanics of what’s transpiring … or they’ve decided remaining blissfully ignorant works just fine.  Taking such an approach encourages that the core mystery of temporal manipulation never quite gets mired down in the potential technobabble that might otherwise distract a casual audience, and it also leaves plenty of breathing room for viewers to get to know these people as individuals a bit more than like-minded fare usually allows.  There isn’t an intellectual wall between them (the fictional men and women) and us, so relatability stays possible despite their extraordinary circumstances.
 
Now … this doesn’t mean that everything that takes place on screen is all that easy to follow, a sentiment that kinda/sorta wraps up how I felt about the show’s second season premiere.  “One Night In Wabang” essentially picks up damn near where Season 1 ended, and it’s a shame that no one at Amazon or in the show’s production really thought about giving their audiences a better recap.  Before I get into the thick of it – and keeping in mind that it’s been nearly two years since that first group of episodes aired on the streaming service – let me just encourage those of you reading this might be best served to go back and rewatch that finale.  Small bits and pieces get a bit more exposure in this premiere; and I’m not ashamed to admit to a bit of confusion.  (The wifey and I, in fact, rewatched all of Season 1; and only now do I feel caught up enough to have something worthwhile to say about this episode.)
 
As I postulated across my reviews of the Season 1 episodes, it seemed pretty clear to me that the identity of Autumn Rivers (played by Imogen Poots) and just how it was so closely tied in to the Abbott family was the crux around which most of the show’s foundational mystery revolved; and I think that’s pretty much cleared up right off the bat in Season 2.  Royal Abbott (Josh Brolin) suspected as much – though he did show up later to the party than I did – and this validation really only swung the door open for others to now step up and come to grips with the fact that the understanding of their shared reality is crumbling around them.  Given the fact that when we last saw Royal and Autumn they were trying to kill one another, Wabang is a bit hard to swallow in a few spots, but rest assured the Season 2 is really only beginning.
​

The good thing about having answers, however, is that the show is now free to chart a slightly modified course.
 
The bad thing about charting a slightly modified course is that – well – creator Brian Watkins shows up to Season 2 with really only some new character quirks to keep viewers tuned in.
 
Think what you will, but the Mother Of All Quirky Character Dramas remains David Lynch and Mark Frost’s seminal Twin Peaks; and I don’t think that program is in any jeopardy of losing the mantle to Outer Range, though – by appearances alone – it occasionally seems like that’s what Watkins and crew are reaching for with this season opener.  Rhett (Lewis Pullman) and Maria (Isabel Arraiza) do a U-turn on bailing out on their lives in Wabang, winding up in a dirty roadside motel run by a slightly unkempt man with a cat fixation.  Wayne Tillerson (Wil Patton) has awakened from his weird comatose state and now appears like a man in the (somewhat) prime of his adult life; for reasons unexplained, he’s begun delivering spoken word renditions of rock songs … and here we, the audience, thought all of the singing was left up to Billy Tillerson (Noah Reid).  Cecilia Abbott (Lily Taylor) continues her on-again-off-again soliloquies on faith and family; and we learn that she, too, has been hiding secrets from everyone that tie to Rebecca’s disappearance some time ago.
 
What I’m trying to suggest above is that “One Night In Wabang” feels a bit too much like a narrative download at times and less like an organic development of the chaos so winningly delivered in the first season finale.  Not a lot of answers were forthcoming, and a few more mysteries were loosely introduced.  Dialing up the character zaniness might seem, at first, like an understandable result of an endless herd of bison storming out of nowhere across the fruited plains; and, yet, at some point I’m hoping goofy for goofy’s sake doesn’t become the norm.  The mere fact alone that Royal believes Autumn has far more answers than she shares and yet he spends no time trying to get them out of her in these moments makes his struggle feel a bit amiss here.  It certainly feels like he’s not all that concerned that his prized granddaughter Amy (Olive Abercrombie) has gone missing; sure, Autumn may be one and the same, but knowing what he knows about time travel is he not the least bit concerned about how he’s been robbed of the child’s formative years?
 
For my money, the single greatest development in all of this first chapter was the fact that Perry (Tom Pelphrey) found himself in the past wherein a younger Royal (Christian James) and Cecilia (Megan West) appear poised to serve as benefactors for a man lost in time.  If we see more of them – all three, that is – then we might achieve a vastly greater understanding of just how timelines work in this curious realm.  What was it Doc Brown warned a young Marty McFly to avoid doing?  Disrupting the flow of time?  Should this trio discover the truth behind their respective identities, what changes – if any – might this have in present day?  And how will these alterations take place?  What might be done and/or undone?  That’s the reason, ultimately, why fans of time travel shows tune in; and I wonder just what developments we might have in store for us in the hours ahead.
 
Again, dear readers, I realize that many of you have criticized yours truly for occasionally overthinking a premise; and, yes, that could be the case here.  “It’s only a first episode” has become the mantra for those who ‘watch the watchers,’ and I’m definitely willing to see where the program heads in this second crop of serialized adventures.  All I’m saying is that layering on another round of mysteries and dialing the quirk up to eleven will only distract audiences for so long.  Eventually, you have to come clean with definitive answers.  I’m hoping that Watkins has that on the docket as well, or this Fantastic oater might find itself painted into a corner with no conceivable way out … except leaping down a great big hole in the ground.
 
Recommended.
 
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that I’m beholden to no one for this review of “One Night In Wabang” – Outer Range Season 02 Episode 01 – as I streamed it via my membership of Amazon Prime.

​-- EZ