Being as big a fan of genre projects as I am, I’ve met a great number of people who share in the experience.
 
Of course – as is with anything – such associations have good and not-so-good consequences.  For example, I’ve had to more often than not confess that I’m not a fan of franchises or flicks that others hold to be near and dear.  This is why I never – never – insult anyone’s personal choices: I know only what I like, can speak to only what I see of value, and try not to judge others on matters that truly are inconsequential in life.  It’s been great to come together with so many with some like-minded love of old pictures, newfound treasures, or any number of debatable classics; and – when it happens – I do try to celebrate it even in this space.  We only get so many days on this world, so I try to do my part to make yours and mine as positive as I can … even if we may disagree on what tickles our respective fancies.
 
Still, one of the more interesting upsides has been having friends who’ve warned me: “Whatever you do, avoid this picture.”
 
While I always appreciate advice, I – probably like many of you – don’t always heed such guidance.  Mind you: I’d appreciate it more if I’m given strong reasons to look elsewhere, but that isn’t always the case.  It’s usually thrown out without a great deal of chitchat, and we all know where that usually leads.  We’re all individuals, and we like to make up our own minds on just about anything and everything.  It’s kinda/sorta how each of us is fundamentally wired.  Also, there’s that added danger to issuing such a warning, and many of us will respond to such instruction almost as a challenge has been issued, a glove has been slapped across my face, or a gauntlet has been thrown down.  Though you say, “Avoid this picture,” I somehow hear you say, “I dare you to watch this film” … and – ahem – this brings me to where I am today.
 
You see, I’ve done what many have warned me against.  I’ve watched 1991’s The Guyver, a feature that’s always been on my mind owed to the fact that – ahem – Star Wars’ veteran Mark Hamill has rather prominently been promoted in its cast over the years.  Having seen the actor in other fare (1978’s Corvette Summer and 1989’s Slipstream come to mind almost immediately), I’ve no problem saying that his involvement doesn’t always ensure quality.  Projects vary understandably, and the quality necessarily comes and goes.  Such is life, right?  Yet somehow The Guyver – despite having so many declarations of its inferiority – has remained firmly on my radar for many years, almost like an annoying itch I couldn’t quite scratch.
 
Well, I’ve scratched it now … despite knowing full well what mother always warned: “Don’t scratch it … or it’s going to bleed.”
 
That’s never good.
 
Neither is The Guyver.
 
(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:
“Young man merges with mechanical device, becoming cyborg superhero. Strange creatures emerge, seeking to reclaim device. He uncovers plot to genetically engineer monstrous creatures.”
​

I’ve never been a big fan of anime, frankly.  It isn’t that I dislike it in any regard; rather, I’ve struggled with finding relatable characters in all of the frenetic action, and I tend to zone out with a good portion of the stylistic choices.  It’s occasionally interesting, true, but it just doesn’t deliver what I prefer in a complete story from start-to-finish, making them hard to recommend.
 
As such, I’ve always known that The Guyver (1991) was adapted from an anime, a relationship that’s kept me from seeking out and exploring it more fully.  Though the project boasted the names like Mark Hamill, effects specialist Screaming Mad George, producer Brian Yuzna (1985’s Re-Animator, 1986’s From Beyond, and 1989’s Honey I Shrunk The Kids), I’d somehow still kept away from it, largely influenced by so many who’d witnessed what it had to offer and found it middling, at best.  But the potential offered with an all-new 4K restoration was finally too great to pass up, and I finally surrendered to the cinematic madness.
 
And I do mean madness.
 
Despite what you might think, it’s never easy for any authentic critic to expand on why any picture fails to entertain, and some of this is owed to what I wrote about above: opinions vary wildly on what works and what doesn’t, so I’ve always tried tempering my criticism with cogent arguments that can be universally understood.  For example, The Guyver hosts a great deal of general goofiness – the kinds of storytelling that fueled the original theatrical incarnation of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (1990) and carried over heavily in shows like Mighty Morphin Power Rangers (1995) along with similar fare of that era.  While those kinds of antics were embraced by fanboys and fangirls around the world, such pratfalls and character lunacy fell flat for me.  As a consequence, I rarely reference them … except in cases like this where I point out that if that’s to your liking then this picture is custom made for you.
 
The film begins with a rather exhaustive opening scroll, a technique that rather successfully introduced each and every chapter of George Lucas’ Star Wars saga.  In those projects, the text was kept to a minimum – three brief paragraphs, basically – and only served to functionally ‘set the stage’ for what was to follow as soon as the words faded into the star field.  But here, the script from Jon Purdy and Yoshiki Takaya plays out like a small graduate dissertation: there’s a wealth of information placed on the shoulders of the audiences, apparently constructing the whole narrative universe of The Guyver as an intellectual property.  Instead of drawing me in, I felt walls being slowly erected around me, making me question just how much of this foreknowledge was absolutely necessary for me to experience this picture as a standalone.
 
Seriously, folks.  For those of you who know the reference, it was like Cliff Notes.
 
As if that wasn’t bad enough, the problem worsens when the sequence immediately following doesn’t quite feel like it had anything to do with it until you get several minutes into it.  Dr. Tetsu Segawa (played by Greg Joung Paik) is fleeing for his life from a band of van-driving gangbangers, only to find himself cornered in some big city drainage system by these unsavory types, one of which – Lisker (Horror veteran Michael Berryman) – who reveals himself to be one of these monstrous Zoanoids (mentioned in the preamble).  The baddies are looking for a piece of tech known as the Guyver unit, something that promises to turn its wearer/user into a veritable superhuman.  As Segawa has hidden it elsewhere, Lisker reduces the renegade scientist to a pile of ash and bone.
​

Basically, this elaborate set-up serves to establish that the Guyver unit is destined to be found by the film’s young hero: Sean Barker (Jack Armstrong) is a down-on-his-luck karate student who happens to be dating Segawa’s daughter – Mizky (Vivian Wu) – who has been pulled aside by CIA Agent Max Reed (Hamill) for questioning and possible federal protection.  It would seem that corporate heavyweight Fulton Balcus (David Gale) – the gang’s employer – will stop at nothing to have this alien technology for his own evil purposes, even if that means kidnapping and incarcerating Mizky until she cooperates with his wishes … carnal or otherwise.
 
So, yes, there’s a hint of a hero’s journey that runs throughout the Guyver (for those of us who still look for those kinds of things).  Though he’s a bit of an easily distracted misfit, Sean changes his ways once the alien device fuses with his human DNA and grants him strength and abilities never before seen in human men.  He makes a stand against the villains, but it isn’t as if he’s been sent on any mythical quest or seeking any kind of redemption.  His is more of a ‘comeback kid’ story, and he does so likely hoping it’ll grant him the love of the women he seeks (meaning Mizky).  Like Obi-Wan Kenobi, Superman’s Jor-El, or even Jesus Christ, Sean transcends death even, resurrected in the knick of time for an extravagant karate showdown with Balcus and the forces of evil.  The fact that directors Steve Wang and Screaming Mad George opted to stage it more as cartoonish bloopers will forever mire this effort in – ahem – theatrical obscurity for most with a brain.
 
I mean that if you’re going to have aliens that turn into these hulking monsters with massive teeth, huge jaws, and razor-sharp scales, then why script them to not behave contrary to hulking monsters?  At what point in their evolution did their species learn karate and why?  (Don’t tell me that they’re Japanese – because it’s anime – because they’re clearly alien.)  Why do the Zoanoids insist on fighting conventionally when Mother Nature has given them attributes that would work far better?  They’ve clearly developed as a predator species equipped to bite an adversary’s head off?  Hasn’t advancement taught us that we’re given the genetic tools most needed for survival?  If that’s the case, then why don’t any of these critters use what God or science of the universal Supreme Being gave them?  It just defies logic, as does a good portion of the plot.
 
As for the feature’s tone?
 
Unfortunately, it’s all over the place, at times trying to be a bit more adult only then to give way to scenes that feel lifted from a Bugs Bunny and Roadrunner cartoon.  Hamill’s Reed is portrayed as a bit of a federal loose cannon, but were the writers really that unaware of the fact that CIA agents technically don’t operate so much in domestic affairs like criminal investigations?  Wu vacillates between the grieving daughter and the budding love interest, making it honestly difficult to stomach Balcus’s obvious fleshly interest in someone young enough to be his granddaughter.  Armstrong does well enough when he’s not under the prosthetics of the central superhero get-up, but his humanity kinda/sorta gets lost in translation once it’s all high-flying punches, headbutts, and kicks, making me wonder how anyone thought this childish frenzy would ever play for blockbuster audiences.
 
It's more like … blockbuster rip-off.
​

Hey, look: it brings me no joy to conclude that The Guyver at best might qualify as forgettable kiddie fare and nothing more.  There’s no shame in such a classification, and maybe the young’uns who find this one will enjoy its until they graduate (or survive puberty) and move on to slightly higher-minded intellectual pursuits.  Me?  Well, in my youth, I’d rather spend time solving algebra problems, saving for college, or drawing my own scribbles as opposed to giving shtick like this a second glance (if even a first glance).  But if it brings you a bit of joy?  Then, have at it.  More power and all that jazz.
 
The Guyver (1991) was produced by New Line Cinema and The Guyver Productions.  DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at Unearthed Films.  As for the technical specifications?  While I’m no trained video expert, I found the provided sights-and-sounds to be surprisingly good in here.  Yes, some of the camera trickery is dated by today’s standards, but I can still recognize some old school charm in practical effects and what they can achieve, if even on a limited budget.  Lastly, if you’re looking for special features?  Yowza!  Unearthed Films has truly aimed for the moon with this 3-disc package; and – in order to be fair to all of it – I’m doing the copy-and-paste from the press release posted on Blu-ray.com.
 
DISC ONE - 4K BLU-RAY

• NEW 4K RESTORATION OF THE ORIGINAL R-RATED CUT FROM THE CAMERA NEGATIVE by Unearthed Films
• HDR PRESENTATION OF THE FILM
• NEW Commentary with co-directors Screaming Mad George and Steve Wang, moderated by Dom O'Brien, the author of Budget Biomorphs: The Making of The Guyver Films
• Audio/subtitles:
  • DTS-HD Master Audio 5.1
  • DTS-HD Master Audio 2.0
  • Optional English SDH Subtitles

​

DISC TWO - BLU-RAY

• NEW 4K RESTORATION OF THE ORIGINAL R-RATED CUT FROM THE CAMERA NEGATIVE by Unearthed Films
• NEW Commentary with co-directors Screaming Mad George and Steve Wang, moderated by Dom O'Brien, the author of Budget Biomorphs: The Making of The Guyver Films
• NEW Interview with producer Brian Yuzna
• NEW Interview with co-director Screaming Mad George
• NEW Suit Tests with commentary by co-directors Screaming Mad George and Steve Wang
• NEW Outtakes with commentary by co-directors Screaming Mad George and Steve Wang
• NEW Gag Roll with commentary by co-directors Screaming Mad George and Steve Wang
• NEW Production & Artwork Gallery
• Alternate Title Sequence
• Trailers
• Audio/subtitles:
  • DTS-HD Master Audio 5.1
  • DTS-HD Master Audio 2.0
  • Optional English SDH Subtitles

DISC THREE – CD SOUNDTRACK

• The Guyver Soundtrack composed by Matthew Morse placed on a separate CD disc

 
Alas … only Mildly Recommended.
 
As many had tried to warn me before, The Guyver (1991) just wasn’t made for folks like me.  Fandom has embraced stuff like it, but me?  Meh.  Not so much.  I’m all for some of its monstery goodness when it works, but the script functions on a level likely embraced more by a child’s mind than anything all that complicated.  This one never rises above such juvenile lunacy; and – as such – I really had a hard time swallowing even its better moments … which were few.  Hamill, in particular, phones it in; and no one really seems all that interested in creating anything greater than high camp.
 
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Unearthed Films provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of The Guyver (1991) 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
​

There are some topics I don't mix words about, and one of them is my opinion of musicals.

In short: I absolutely, absolutely, absolutely loathe them.

I know, I know, I know: but it is what it is.

I've warned readers and friends that I probably can name the few musicals I'll tolerate on a single hand.  The general desire to break out in song and dance just gets into territory I can't stomach, so I'm known for being respectably unkind to them.  I'll sit through them from time-to-time, but I do that mostly to make certain that my perspective on them hasn't changed.  Thus far, it remains the same ... except for those sacred few.

Now, one of them that I've always enjoyed is 1971's Willy Wonka & The Chocolate Factory; and that's largely because I don't see the flick as falling into the usual storytelling conventions that most musicals do.  Its singing bits tie in much more strongly with its characterization, not really pushing the plot or narrative forward so much as they are individual expressions of these kinda/sorta odd ducks, if you will.  Plus, the film is loaded with so much magic and charm that I'll easily forgive the occasional schtick because I'm otherwise engaged psychologically.  It's rare, yes, but it does happen.

Just the other night, incidentally, the wifey and I watched a very touching documentary on Wonka's central talent, the late Gene Wilder.  I've always been a fan of his work -- there was just this incredible effortlessness to everything the man did on screen, be it drama, farce, and comedy -- and I don't believe I've ever respected any actor or actress more for such an ability.  I've always argued that his work in Young Frankenstein (1974) is one the highwater marks for a big screen comedic performance, and I stand by that assessment to this day.  No one did comedy like Gene.  No one.

I bring the Netflix documentary up only because I learned (for the first time) that the original Wonka wasn't a box office success.  Back in the days of my youth, the flick was a holiday staple, an ongoing trend that made my young mind believe it was this huge, huge, huge hit.  Alas, that wasn't the case -- the picture barely eeked out a profit, a fact I'll never understand -- and I'm glad that the passage of time has given its goodness the legacy it deserves.

​So ... in that spirit, let me say Happy Birthday to you, Willy Wonka.  Nothing ever tastes as sweet as your gooey sugar ... and likely nothing ever will.

-- EZ
​

It doesn't take being a genre veteran to get a mention in the many, many, many pages of SciFiHistory.Net.

In fact, all it really takes is a single appearance.  If any talent has served a bit of time in Science Fiction, Fantasy, or Horror, I do try to shine a little light on them when time permits.  Sadly, there isn't enough time, so I've had to do so -- especially for a certain generation of actors and actresses -- when they make the news.  Ours is an imperfect world, and I apologize for just not having more of myself to commit blog space in otherwise dire circumstances.

Alas, word has reached the World Wide Web of Bill Cobbs' passage.  A screen veteran with five decades and two hundred different credits worth of experience, the man wasn't exactly what anyone would call a SciFi heavyweight.  A quick glance of his professional resume shows far more mainstream dramas and comedies to his name, but there are a few in there deserving of mentions for fans who like such notations.

​In 1984, Cobbs earned some of his earliest Science Fiction limelight with a role aboard the critically acclaimed The Brother From Another Planet for A-Train Films.

In 1993, he appeared in a small role aboard the Sylvester Stallone vehicle -- Demolition Man -- for Warner Bros. and Silver Pictures.

In 1995, the actor found gainful employment aboard the SciFi/Telefilm Out There for Showtime Networks.

Still, I think Cobbs' TV appearances are probably those I know better than his films.  Along with enjoying big exposure in the somewhat forgotten Fantasy/Horror The Others (2000), he paid visits to The Outer Limits, Touched By An Angel, Star Trek: Enterprise, and Marvel's Agents Of S.H.I.E.L.D.

Our prayers are extended to the family, friends, and fans of Bill Cobbs.

May he rest in peace.

-- EZ
​

I’ve always been a fan of Science Fiction, Fantasy, and Horror anthologies.
 
One of my big bugaboos with inferior films is that in all honesty they might’ve been better received if their running length matched the slimness of their ideas.  Far too many flicks just don’t have enough narrative substance; and I think most folks can easily detect when a screenwriter has padded the story with some unnecessary baggage in order to expand a 60-minute premise into the (minimally) required 90-minute runtime.  These shorter features – be they 30-minutes or more – wind up feeling like far more natural storytelling, giving just enough wiggle room for all involved to show us what they can do best.  Also, it’s easier to forgive a few inferior bits when there’s less to slow the tale’s progress: who really cares about a imperfection here and there if the adventure is an otherwise compelling idea brought to life by a respectable cast and crew?  Maybe I’m old-fashioned, but I don’t.
 
As such, I’ve found great joy in exploring any number of anthologies.  Yes, the BBC’s Black Mirror is quite good (I’ve reviewed several episodes here on the site); and I’ve even gone back into the archives of television broadcast history to spend quiet evenings with Rod Serling’s The Twilight Zone and Night Gallery.  The original incarnation of The Outer Limits is also quite interesting, though I’ll admit there are some very dated scripts in it; and I’ve even watched quite a few installments of second interpretation of that franchise which originally aired on pay cable from 1995 through 2002.  When time permits, I even try to pen some reflections on these … and that brings me to today.
 
“A Stitch In Time” first aired in the United States on January 14, 1996 as part of the show’s second season; and I’ve read some commentary suggesting that it’s arguably one of the program’s very best episodes.  It presently scores an 8.3 (out of 10.0) on its IMDB.com page – indeed, a very solid endorsement from the website’s users – and the hour starred Amanda, Plummer, genre favorite Michelle Forbes, Andrew Airlie, Sam Vincent, and Kendall Cross.  Based on such high regard, I decided to give it a viewing for posterity’s sake, and I wanted to make some observations on what I thought was about as interesting a diversion as 45 minutes can be in the world of genre entertainment.
 
(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:
“At least 17 men have been executed in the last two decades without a clear motive, with the same gun. FBI Special Agent Jamie Pratt has to find how some of those murders were carried out when the gun had not yet been made.”
 
I don’t think there’s any purer form of storytelling than the conventional mystery, of which “A Stitch In Time” certainly qualifies.  Though it imports the Fantasy ideas of time travel and the possible paradoxes into the narrative, those things actually give the murder mystery a bit more intellectual weight as opposed to weighing down the action unnecessarily.  Basically, you have a series of murders – presenting detectives with the idea that they’re dealing with a serial killer – and the quest to solve the whodunit; however, it’s all been assembled in such a way as to defy any possible rational explanation.
 
For some time now, FBI Special Agents Jamie Pratt (played by Michelle Forbes) and Corey Lonn (Andrew Airlie) have been following the use of a very specific 9mm handgun tied to several execution-style murders spaced out over several years.  Still, the investigation is continually plagued by what the team first suspects is a monkey wrench in the FBI database: although the gun was manufactured in 1988, its use keeps popping up in newly discovered killings that pre-date its existence.  While other investigators may’ve dismissed such evidence as clerical errors, they refuse to do so chiefly because it keeps happening, a trend that particularly annoys Pratt and forces her to persist in considering all the possibilities.
​

Finally, a fingerprint turns up at a recently discovered cold case from the late 1960’s that ties directly to Dr. Theresa Givens (Amanda Plummer).  When Pratt realizes that – if such data is correct – Givens would’ve been at the scene of the crime when she was but five years old, the coincidence is too great to resist; and she opts to pay the nearby school lecturer a visit.  All she learns is that Givens is a genius who worked on a secret NSA project, that the lady is not a favorite of her unruly students, and that the good doctor is decidedly eccentric.  With nothing to tie the professor to the murder, Pratt ultimately files it all away for the time being.
 
Eventually, Givens’ name comes up again – this time tied directly to the 9mm handgun in question – and this puts these two women on a collision course wherein destiny reveals that they have far more in common than originally believed.
 
In most cases, scriptwriters usually only incorporate Science Fiction or Fantasy ideas to spin what they hope will be some compelling web, but Stitch is constructed in such a way that one cannot remove time travel from the storytelling equation and have the experience make sense.  As a consequence, this is probably one of the better uses of such technology that’s come about on television; and the work of writers Steven Barnes and Leslie Stevens deserves a bit of celebration.  Lesser yarns haven’t relied as much as The Outer Limits does here, and it shows.  Well done.
Where I struggle, nonetheless, is that Stitch never quite effectively dispels the subversive suggestive of resolving temporal paradoxes, giving only passing attention to the fact that clearly the timeline has changed and perhaps there should be wider effect.
 
In her youth, Givens suffered a sexual assault, and the long-lasting trauma has produced a vigilante who is using science only after such criminals have been convicted to leap back in time and carry out a death sentence.  So once Jerome Horowitz (Sam Vincent) is found guilty and sentenced accordingly, the good doctor travels back to the day before he commits his first crime and shoots him in the head.  As a result, all of his casualties survive in this new reality, but – in that odd irony of chronology – he’s now a victim in an FBI cold case file, the very one being worked on by Pratt and Lonn.
 
But nothing of greater significance changes in this alternate existence.  Givens is still a vigilante.  Pratt and Lonn are still assigned to the same case, although one that slowly grows more complex with each new ‘temporal execution.’  I’m not a purist, but even I suspect that this ever-changing world of tomorrow might look a bit different – more so than what The Outer Limits posits here – and I found that a tad disappointing.  Haven’t we constantly been warned about changing the past?  Here, these changes – for the most part and definitely up until the episode’s finale – are rather minor if not downright trivial; and I guess I expected to see a bit more flavor.
 
And about that finale?
​

From a dramatic standpoint, Givens doesn’t quite escape with her mind intact but the end result is that she still becomes a better person (or so we’re led to believe).  Essentially, there’s a ‘passing of the torch’ analogy here that is a bit forced, given that the good doctor remains interested in inventing time travel (despite growing up into a more composed adult than she was in the original timeline) while it’s the detective who inherits the vigilante’s cause.  Apparently, Givens still sees the fruits of such labors – that being of going into the past to change the future – and joins forces with Pratt, who now finds herself trying to spare her best friend from a tragedy she likely feels partially responsible (and cursed) for.
 
Stories like this always end on the cautionary note of “be careful what you wish for,” and Stitch definitely excels on that point.  Pratt accepts her newfound role as a temporal crusader, but it’s unclear how long she might possibly stay committed to the task at hand.  Will she stop after resurrecting her friend, or will she succumb to using such technology to create what she thinks is a better, safer world?  Such ambiguity also leaves audiences guessing at one might come next, and that’s a wonderful sentiment that only the very best morality plays tap into.
 
It's also interesting to note that Stitch was one of the show’s most highly regarded installments.  At the 1996 CableACE Awards, Plummer received a nomination in the category of ‘Actress In A Dramatic Special/Series.’  She also took home the Primetime Emmy Award for her work in the episode for ‘Outstanding Guest Actress In A Drama Series.’  The hour also won the ‘Best Short Dramatic Program’ category from the 1997 Gemini Awards.  Kudos to all involved.
 
The Outer Limits (1995-2002) was produced by MMG Film & TV Production, Trilogy Entertainment Group, Alliance Atlantis Communications, Atlantis Films, CFCF-TV, and a few other participants.  (For a full accounting, one can check out their full citation on IMDB.com.)  The series is presently available for physical or digital purchase or streaming via a variety of platforms.  As for the technical specifications?  While I’m no trained video expert, I thought that the provided sights-and-sounds were quite good; special effects being what they were for the mid-1990’s, the temporal window is rendered rather poorly, but it works in the way the cast and crew intended so who am I to complain?  Lastly, if you’re looking for special features?  As I viewed this one via streaming, there were no special features under consideration.
 
Highly recommended.
 
While I personally would’ve loved to see “A Stitch In Time” go a bit further with its exploration of how tweaking the past might rearrange the future, the episode works on its own narrative rhythm in a way that keeps the focus on a few necessary characters, showing perhaps how uniquely tied up in the same time stream some of us might inevitably be.  The formula, though, for anthologies has always been to give audiences ‘just enough’ to both buy the premise along with the characters’ motivations; and that’s certainly the case here.  There is ‘just enough’ and not a smidge more.  Performances are very good, and the end result might leave viewers with just enough closure along with a bit of wiggle room so that they, too, have ask ‘what if’ all of it went along a few minutes longer.  How might it have evolved?  That’s the stuff of positive TV dreams, if ever there were.
 
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that I’m beholden to no one for this review of The Outer Limit’s “A Stitch In Time” (S02E01) episode as I screened it as part of my very own subscription to MGM+.

-- EZ
​

Think what you may, readers, but the movie industry has always been evolving.
 
Why, back in the day, it wasn’t uncommon for studios to outright own their own theater chains.  While I won’t get into the particulars about just how and why all of that changed (honestly, there are bits and pieces of it I still don’t quite understand), the central point is that this gave the true industry movers and shakers the opportunity to directly exhibit their finest (and not so finest wares) to the viewing public.  Among the many things that this had studios doing was often pairing what they deemed an A-List feature along with a B-Movie, the lesser usually being a work considered as a bit of a theatrical throwaway to a double feature.  It’s true that these flicks generally cost far less than the A choice, and it’s equally true that – ahem – perhaps not nearly as much spit, polish, and effort went into bringing the story to life.
 
What I’m constantly surprised about after my years of watching older flicks is how many of them long thought to be B-Movies are actually some really damn fine quality entertainments.  Though I’ve not been able to confirm that 1948’s Act Of Violence was, in fact, a B-Movie (I’ve both read and heard it was), I’m at a loss as to why any studio could possibly have determined this one should be little more than an attached secondary bit of escapism for interested patrons.  It may not boast the biggest character study of note for its era – nor does it house any singular performance from any of its familiar faces; and yet it’s still about as compelling as any Noir-tinged Drama I’ve had the good fortune to discover.
 
Thankfully, the good people at Warner Archive were kind enough to provide me a copy; and I’m thrilled to shed a bit of light on its many shadows today.
 
(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:
“An embittered, vengeful POW stalks his former commanding officer who betrayed his men's planned escape attempt from a Nazi prison camp.”
 
I’ve mentioned before that – while I have a great love for authentic Film Noirs – I haven’t always agreed with the conventional definition of what makes an entry considered a story in this sub-genre.
 
For example, a film professor of mine back in the 1980’s pretty much had the whole class convinced that true Film Noirs were those features produced in the post World War II studio system (for about a decade or so) that explored the dark side of human foibles.  Over time – and from reasonably extensive reading on my own – I had to adjust that definition slightly as I found that the flawed characters of these productions were more the central focus than were their traits; and I’ve pretty much accepted that qualifier as reasonable.  The point here is that these films tend to be heavily preoccupied with whatever menace exists between the credits, and the directors and storytellers used some very specific stylistic choices to weave their visual spells.
​

More often than not, the men and women given life in these flicks have some sizable flaws that they’ve gone to great lengths to conceal; and such is the case for Frank Enley (played by Van Helfin).  This small-town superstar is the kind of bigger-than-life personae that has made him so beloved by the locals: he’s kind and giving, he’s always been of service to the community, and he even served his country to some acclaim in World War II.  However, Enley has been hiding a secret for quite some time, and it’s one so big that he’s never even confided in his loving wife Edith (Janet Leigh).  It would seem that rather than behave heroically when coming face-to-face with the Axis soldiers, he actually somewhat collaborated with them, ratting out some fellow prisoners-of-war who were on the cusp of their own ‘great escape.’  In the process, nearly every other captured soldier was killed with the exception of Joe Parkson (Robert Ryan).
 
Well … guess who just showed up in town to pay the good citizen Enley a visit?
 
And … guess what Parkson has in mind?
 
In case you’re confused, then let me be clear: Parkson wants revenge for both his injuries and the lives lost because of Enley’s duplicity.
 
Consequently, Act Of Violence unfolds about as uniquely as any game of cat-and-mouse that’s been conceived.  Though Enley seems to always be one step ahead – more out of circumstance than anything else – he eventually learns that Parkson is on his trail.  This forces the good Samaritan to kinda/sorta ‘take it on the lam,’ using the backdrop of a nearby contractors’ convention to disappear into the crowds for protection.  Still, Parkson remains persistent, and he inevitably holes up in the convention center’s hotel, knowing that it’s only a matter of time before the two of them will stumble across one another wherein justice will be served.
 
Director Fred Zinnemann makes fabulous use of his background in documentary filmmaking, largely capturing a good deal of Violence with an almost casual, plot-by-number approach.  Though he goes to great lengths to frame scenes via lighting and positions, there’s still a basic workmanship approach to all of this that never gives way to anything that’s overtly or intrusively stylistic.  Additionally, he makes exceptional use of some exterior photography, practically dragging Enley, Parkson, and the audience from the happy luster of small-town existence to the grim, cold streets and alleys of the big, unforgiving city.  The finale breaks the mold just a bit – the director stages the inevitable climax similar to a Wild West showdown (of sorts) where you can even hear the wind-blowing in the background – but, otherwise, the picture remains firmly grounded in reality but with the proper thematic shadows bringing noir to life.
 
Heflin does a great job managing the highs and lower-lower-lowest lows of his character’s existence.  Once his train is off the narrative track, it’s easy to see the struggle slowly wearing him down with each successive development.  Ryan – always a solid talent – is particularly expressive in several scenes wherein he’s battling the conflict of dispensing justice though conflicted over playing the vigilante.  He wants to do what he feels is right, even at the expense of his mortal soul, and this doesn’t exactly come easy once he’s confronted by his gal-pal, Ann (Phyllis Thaxter), who has chased him across the country in hopes of stopping him from committing what she sees as cold-blooded murder.  But – as a soldier – he refuses to allow any code of conduct to be forced upon him, making it resoundingly clear that not everyone is going to get out of this one alive.
​

Another great surprise in Violence is the casting of Mary Astor (1941’s The Maltese Falcon) as a somewhat streetwise confidante Pat who takes Enley under her wing when she finds him lost in the nightlife of the big city.  Though some might suggest Pat saw giving aid and comfort to this lost soul as a means to a financial end (and, yes, she does inevitable ask for money), I see that really only as a passable complaint: with the dollar amount that gets thrown around to have this matter fixed (by a greasy street attorney and his thug enforcer), Pat’s request for nothing more than $100 for her time and trouble seems forgivable.  After all, she gave the man a place to hide out for a short while – along with her platonic company – and maybe she deserved something in exchange for such trouble.  She even kept watch while he was sleeping, so I’m inclined to give her a pass on any condemnation … for what that’s worth.
 
But for the film’s running time of just over 80 minutes, Act Of Violence is frightfully entertaining.  It’s the kind of picture I love stumbling into with very little foreknowledge of, allowing me to experience it perhaps like audiences did back in the day.  It’s a lean and mean machine – one that’s well worth the time – and it shows what can be accomplished when stars – both in the heavens and Hollywood – align for the best possible circumstances.
 
Act Of Violence (1948) was produced by Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer.  DVD distribution (for this particular release) has been coordinated by the fine folks at Warner Archive.  As for the technical specifications?  While I’m no trained video expert, I found the provided sights-and-sounds to be exceptional from start-to-finish.  Lastly, if you’re looking for special features?  The disc boasts a brief featurette along with the usual theatrical trailer and some cartoons of the era.  There’s also a pretty spiffy audio commentary from Dr. Drew Casper: he vacillates between providing the usual facts and figures of traditional commentaries as well as provided a bit of a film lecture on what makes the flick so special (in certain sequences) and vivid in its character exploration.  Actually, I found it great fun, even though he does get bogged down with said ‘facts’ a bit in spots.  But as commentaries go this one is highly recommended.
 
Highly recommended.
 
Frankly, I’d stop short of proclaiming that Act Of Violence is one of my personal favorite noirs, but it definitely scores highly.  There’s a lot of ideas visually explored here – underscoring character strength and weakness in depiction, mild social commentary on post-war society, maybe even some minor treatise on big city versus small town life – but none of it ever feels exhaustive or non-essential.  It starts and ends as a very human story, one shattered when the darkest of possible secrets puts two men – once friends and fellow patriots – at odds with their respective morality.  Sure, it’s a bit grim in spots, but there isn’t an ounce of fat in here at all.  It’s an impressive discovery for those who venture into such dire straits.  Redemption is possible, but it might just kill you in the process.
 
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Warner Archive provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of Act Of Violence (1948) 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
​

Oh, the good old days ...

Though I do have some acquaintances who've assured me that this generation and my generation might not be as different as I believe, it would seem to me that -- generally speaking -- the phenomenon of repeat viewing of flicks we love on the silver screen has gone out of style.  Yes, I realize that there may be exceptions to that rule here and there, but my anecdotal experience alone informs me that today's youth take their cinema in on a one-and-done basis.  Again, I'm sure that exceptional event pictures might buck the trend, but -- lo and behold -- today's entertainment consumers likely have vastly more choices than I did as a young'un, so they explore alternatives probably more quickly and easily than do we old fuddyduddies.

Today's evidence: 1981's Dragonslayer -- which enjoyed its U.S. theatrical release on this day back then -- was a bit of a cultural phenomenon in my hometown.  While not as popular as 1977's Star Wars with audiences of its day, Dragonslayer did hang around in my twin-cinema megaplex for a few weeks, largely buoyed by we young'uns who were into that sort of thing and didn't want to see it vanish as quickly as did most flicks.  I know that I saw this one several times up in the lights, and I couldn't get enough of it.

As a matter of fact, the house where I lived as a teenager was one of the first to invest in the ol' laserdisc player -- a flawed but superior format in several ways -- and (you guessed it) one of the flicks they first purchased was Dragonslayer.  It was a presentation we played end over end over end: whenever we couldn't find anything else to explore, we threw this one in for posterity's sake.  And, yes, we likely found some new reason to celebrate its Fantasy goodness with each airing.  For us, it was just that kind of picture, and it's sad to see how it's mostly vanished into obscurity today.

Of course, its effects are obviously dated.  This was done well before the advent of CGI, and the studio was forced to incorporate only some of the very best stop-motion photography along with some fabulous in-camera production trickery, the likes of which are pretty much extinct these days.  Though the flick was no box office sensation (there are many who suggest it was poorly marketed and/or hamstrung by Walt Disney Company's involvement with one of its first PG-rated properties), this was exactly the kind of thing that I and my buds embraced whenever Hollywood sent it our way.  It's a shame that the film is all but forgotten.

Happy Anniversay, Dragonslayer!  Here's hoping your dragon never loses its mighty roar!

-- EZ
​

Readers, I've said many times in this space that Science Fiction today isn't quite what Science Fiction was in the late 1960's and 1970's.

For those who may have missed it, SciFi used to be a bit darker.  Culturally, socially, and politically, our world was -- meh -- going through some things back in those days; and storytellers of that era tried to infuse the myths they brought to the screen with some of that local color.  Racial tensions were still something countries around the world were dealing with -- not like the pomp and circumstances that gets celebrated today -- and events like the Vietnam War, Watergate, and more were regular topics of conversation.  As a result, the films -- yes, even those grounded in SciFi and Fantasy -- tended to gravitate toward some more universal themes, especially if it allowed filmmakers to make even a lazy comment on the nature of existence and how shallow our collective pursuits might be.

(It's a shame that those same people were in the business of making it happen, am I right?)

​Today's exhibit: 1975's Rollerball -- which enjoyed its U.S. theatrical release on this day back then -- dished out a somewhat dark and subversive take on the whole 'bread and circuses' idea.  Sacrificing the days of ancient Rome for the near future, the Norman Jewison flick cast Hollywood heavyweight James Caan in the role of an athlete at the top of his game taking a stand against the corporate overlords who wanted him 'retired.'  Against the backdrop of commercial sports, the narrative explored what it meant to serve a team, serve an owner, and serve the better part of one's human soul in a bid for true excellence ... and -- in many ways -- there really hasn't been anything like it on screens ever since.

​I've watched this one a few times, and methinks I'm due for another screening.  I'll likely pen a review for the website when I do, as I'm quite certain I have a release in my personal collection that includes a commentary track or two.

Now, don't misunderstand me: Rollerball isn't a perfect film.  It's a bit sugary here and there, and there's a sequence or two that heavily -- and I do mean HEAVILY -- date its ideas and concepts, especially as it involves social commentary (which can be goofy if not downright nebulous, at times).  My point is that I think Rollerball is EXACTLY the kind of Science Fiction film that exemplifies what studios thought SciFi could and should be doing in theaters of the day; and I'd strongly encourage those of you who haven't seen it to give it a go.  It's quite good, even though the hamminess might be a bit overwraught in spots.

Happy Anniversary, Rollerball!  I'm thrilled to say you still have wheels!

-- EZ
​

I have a vague, vague recollection of seeing 1997’s Mimic in theaters when it played during its original theatrical run.
 
Science Fiction and Fantasy have always ‘been my thing,’ and I’m a self-professed lover of traditional monster movies, of which the release arguably qualifies.  I don’t recall the works of Guillermo del Toro really being a thing at that point in the storyteller’s career, but I suspect he wasn’t an unknown so far as Hollywood is concerned.  Lastly, I suppose the real ‘icing on the cake’ was the inclusion of Mira Sorvino as the flick’s big bug lady.  In my estimation, she’s definitely one of the screen’s loveliest faces; and – if I remember correctly – she was still riding a wave of industry popularity thanks to her breakout Academy Award winning performance in Woody Allen’s Mighty Aphrodite.  So in corner of the cinematic universe, Mimic had an awful lot going for it, and seeing it was a non-starter.
 
Alas, I remember walking out of the theater and being a tad disappointed.  Honestly, I can’t recall my specific reservations with it – I’ve rewatched it recently for the purpose of this review – but I believe I struggled with some of its proposed science (which I’ll discuss below), a handful of its production details (lots and lots and lots of shots in the dark), and the way it felt so strongly like a throwback to the screen’s simpler techniques in delivering monster movies.  Age appears to have tempered my younger mind just a bit, and I’ll admit to enjoying it more now that I’m older (and wiser?) … and yet there’s still something that (snicker snicker) bugs me about the whole affair.
 
(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:
“Three years ago, entomologist Dr. Susan Tyler genetically created an insect to kill cockroaches carrying a virulent disease. Now, the insects are out to destroy their only predator, mankind.”
 
Now, I’ve no problem admitting that I didn’t quite grow up like the other boys of my generation.
 
Chiefly … this statement applies to bugs.
 
While the others in school reveled in their escapades of capturing and domesticating such things as spiders, cockroaches, and the like, I really wanted nothing to do with them.  I remember my front yard at one point being uncharacteristically filled with things like stick bugs (phasmids) and praying mantises; and I do recall even my sister and some of the neighborhood girls being fascinated by these crawling critters, but – again – such things rarely caught my attention unless it was to give them a wide, wide, wide berth.  I’m quite sure I wasn’t afraid of them – though I did come across a massive spider stretching probably two feet in length once in a cornfield – and I merely let bygones be bygones when it came to the lives of insects.
​

So I do suppose that such latent memories may have fueled some of my disinterest with Mimic (1997).  Director Guillermo del Toro both adapted (in part) a short story and directed the picture for the screen; and the storyteller’s singular ability to create human tales within some uniquely extraordinary circumstances was probably stretched to its limits, this project being one of his earliest studio experiences.  Sadly, I think he may’ve expended a bit too much focus on the film’s supersized roaches, leaving the cast of literal human beings drawn up a bit paper thin here and there.
 
In Mimic’s preamble, audiences learn that a roach-born plague known as Strickler’s Disease has been wreaking havoc on New York City’s children.  Crack entomologist Susan Tyler (played by Mira Sorvino) gets recruited by CDC director Peter Mann (Jeremy Northam) to address the problem; and, together, they come up with a plan to engineer a new hybrid of termite and mantis – dubbed the ‘Judas Breed’ – to initially join the bug collective, infect its members, and eradicate the species.  Given that they specifically built these intruders to live a very short time, Tyler and Mann firmly believed that the Judases would die out in only a single lifespan.
 
However, three years later, evidence mounts around a series of vicious crimes terrorizing one borough of New York; and our chief bug experts – now married – slowly come to the realization that scientists also do in films of this type: nature found a way, and the Judases are not only still out there but they’ve enjoyed a few years of accelerated evolution.  Now, these insects have grown to be as large as an adult human male; and they’re terrorizing the community that’s now beneath them on the food chain!
 
Again, I’m a huge fan of monster movies, but sadly Mimic doesn’t quite fit that bill.
 
You see, the traditional monster movie casts the seminal monster as a somewhat tragic figure.  It never asked to come into existence, nor did it desire the shackles that human morality gets assigned to it by merely coming into being in our world.  As a consequence, it does that which any like-minded thing would: it eeks out an existence to see all of its needs met in order to keep on living.  Once the screen heroes rise up in opposition to it, the audience might even sympathize with the creature: why must it die when all it’s doing is all it knows, and why do those who designed the critter get off without so much as a punishment?
 
But in Mimic, del Toro captures and renders his oversized roaches in much the same way directors Ridley Scott and James Cameron did in Alien (1979) and Aliens (1986).  Though they’re part of a hive network, we still see these species as individual forces of primal infestation; and they need to be dealt with accordingly.  There isn’t an ounce of sympathy, and the only real emotional pang that gets screen time is that of Tyler when she takes herself (and Mann) to task for possessing the hubris to think they could control something that’s beyond their reach … namely ‘nature.’  As Jeff Goldblum’s character in Jurassic Park (1993) reminds us, nature will always find a way, but apparently the vast majority of screen scientists are too dumb to recognize their place in the wide, wide universe.
 
Thus, Mimic lacks any real expressive core, reducing its prospects of being a monster movie and instead bolstering its prospects as little more than an unconventional Horror outing.
​

Still, that isn’t a bad qualification.  As a theme park ride meant to scare riders silly, Mimic spends a great deal of time beneath the streets of New York City.  The science is a bit fast and loose – these faux/roaches originally ‘mimicked’ roaches in order to infest the horde, and now they’re man-sized because they’re ‘mimicking’ you and I – but it works all well and good for the purposes here.  There’s this expansive network of subway tunnels, previous levels of the past that serve as a foundation for the stone and steel towers that stretch to the heavens today.  It’s dank and diseased with a great many species of insects and rodent life that spoil the air with stink and defecate whenever and wherever they like.  Light manages to find small portals to shine the reminder that this ride will be ending; but the audience remain trapped within, at all times at the mercy of the merry mythmaker.
 
Under del Toro’s direction, Mimic functions just fine on that level.  He plugs the script with small hints of greater characterization, hoping to build some connection for those who require such commitment.  But in the end, I thought that Tyler, Mann, and the slim cadre of players were just too insignificant and highbrow for me to care about them.  After all, didn’t they create this mess to begin with?  Am I only to feel sorry for them now because they’re up to their elbows in giant roaches?  Mankind deserved better than that, but good on them for seeing the error of their ways as it’ll likely make them better scientists for the inferior sequel.
 
My single greatest quibble with all of this lies with the picture’s score as penned by Marco Beltrami.
 
For those unaware, the nuclear proliferation of the 1950’s led to a whole slate of ‘giant insect’ motion pictures.  A few of the more famous (or is that more infamous?) additions remain 1954’s Them (giant ants), 1955’s Tarantula (giant spider), and 1957’s The Black Scorpion (you guessed it … giant scorpion).  Plus, oversized insects also got a bit of screen time with men and women being shrunk in size, ultimately finding themselves at odds with nature that had grown gigantic in the process.  I think because del Toro likely wanted his film to pay homage to those crowd-pleasers of yesteryear, he and Beltrami possibly discussed – ahem – mimicking the tonal sensibilities of such simpler theatrical fare.  As a result, there’s a lot of big, brassy moments in there, punctuating the sights and scares as they rear up; but it’s overblown to the point of near parody in a few spots.  While I understand the choice, I’m only saying I found it more unintentionally distracting than it was truly entertaining.
 
Mimic (1997) was produced by Dimension Films, Baltimore Pictures, and Miramax.  The film is presently available for physical or digital purchase (and streaming) via a variety of platforms.  As for the technical specifications?  Well … though I’m no trained video expert, I’ll admit that Mimic is rife with a lot of dark and/or night-time photography.  I found several sequences a bit underlit (for my tastes), so keep that in mind when venturing into such quarters on your own.  Lastly, if you’re looking for special features?  As I viewed this one via streaming, there were no special features under consideration.
 
Recommended.
 
Mimic (1997) is about as serviceable a studio Horror effort as anything else that emerged from the late 1990’s; and that’s a testament to del Toro’s stabilizing hand at the helm of the action.  Though photographed a bit too dark here and there, the picture remains a great thrill ride into the dark where you know you really don’t want to go but have to because that’s where all of the action is.  Sure, it’s a bit predictable – hell, you damn sure know what’s coming thanks to an irrepressible musical score – but some might suggest that that’s half the fun.
 
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that I’m beholden to no one for this review of Mimic (1997) as I watched the movie as part of my very own subscription to MGM+.

-- EZ
​

Yes, readers, I was there -- my butt firmly planted in a theater seat -- all those years ago when Ridley Scott's Blade Runner enjoyed its first theatrical engagement ever.

Well, no: I wasn't at any major Hollywood premiere, if that's what you're thinking.  Where I was was at my hometown theater in Nowhere, America.  If I remember correctly, I was there with a few friends and an adult guardian who -- though he insisted on taking us to this R-rated flick -- wanted to witness the spectacle anyway.  And -- if I'm fully remembering it correctly -- there was even one of us who'd actually read the Philip K Dick story (at the time) that the script was based on.  (I would eventually read it a few years later.)  The lights went down, and the screen lit up, leaving us to watch Harrison Ford assume one of his greatest iconic roles alongside Han Solo and Indiana Jones.

Once the credits rolled, we were a bit ... well ... flummoxed.

You see, Blade Runner isn't your typical Science Fiction on any level.  It takes a bit of time for its story to truly sink in with those who've appreciated what the flick tries to say about life, the universe, and everything.  We went in expecting something a bit different than what was delivered.  While we weren't exactly disappointed with the production, I think it's safe to say that the story stuck with us for some time because -- over the next few weeks -- we found ourselves debating some of the smaller points here and there.  Where we went wrong -- we were young, so you'll have to forgive us -- was that we kept comparing it to other SciFi juggernauts from a few years earlier.  That's a very difficult prospect because -- frankly -- there really isn't anything quite like Blade Runner ... then or now.

(In case you're wondering ... no, I don't think any of us who read the Dick story were all that enamored with it, either, not seeing a whole lot of direct association to what Ridley Scott brought to life.)

To me, I've always thought that a project like Blade Runner functions culturally much like Citizen Kane (1941) did back in its day ... which is to say that it was almost entirely misunderstood.  Folks went in expecting X, but Orson Welles had almost something else entirely on his mind.  Those of us who've done some reading and research, we can tell you what's important about Kane; but it took years for the film to be as highly regarded as it is today.  Blade Runner's time also came, but, yes, I think it took it's sweet, sweet time.

So ... Happy Anniversary, Blade Runner.

There's really nothing else quite like you in the cinematic universe.

-- EZ
​

Have I ever told you the story of the “unreliable narrator?”
 
You see, every story gets told by a narrator.  Sometimes, such a character is front-and-center, while other times the big he or she is allowed to kinda/sorta revolve on the fringe of the main plot.  But because yarns ultimately need to be spun by a central voice, it’s important that this speaker be someone audiences can trust.  Credibility is always at stake; but when the lead teller of the tale has a deficiency – say, he’s untrustworthy, or he’s given mental problems, or he can’t see things clearly – then the audience is most likely always on the lookout for where the pieces don’t support the puzzle.  This is always a delicate balance: having been tried more often than it should, the practice likely fails more than it truly succeeds, so it should be undertaken with a great deal of hesitancy on the part of the filmmakers.
 
Sadly, it’s a storytelling phenomenon that studios big and small still think they can squeeze a bit of life out of; and this is especially the case when any new mystery involves the rich, famous, good-looking, and shallow.  This isn’t to say that such trickery fails every time it’s been tried: again, the truth is that any technique can achieve the desired results so long as there’s great material behind it – along with winning performances and relatable characters.  When it all comes together, a production can certainly be something special.  But when it all fails?
 
Well … you get a little something-something that looks, sounds, and feels as bland as does Blackwater Lane (2024).
 
(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:
“Late one night, a woman drives by a stranded motorist who is later revealed to have been murdered.  After a series of terrifying events, the woman believes she is the killer’s next victim.”
 
As a critic, I hate to feel as if I’m picking on any film.
 
I’ve always taken the approach of trying to find the silver lining to any production I’m afforded access to, whether I ultimately wind-up liking or loathing it in the final regard.  (Honestly, there have been very few films I’ve ever hated, so there’s that.)  With so many wheels in motion, any effort should have something to offer viewers, be it a winning premise, a great performance, some fabulous production work, or the like.  While it’s rare for me to find anything to plant my flag in, it does happen from time-to-time … and that’s about where I am with Blackwater Lane.
​

Cass Anderson (played by Minka Kelly) has a past checkered with some emotional and psychological problems stemming from the loss of her dearly departed mother.  While a wealthy inheritance gave her the opportunity to truly move on with her life – as well as opening up the possibility for true love with her newfound husband Matthew (Dermot Mulroney) – troubles persist in ways only Fate can serve.  Still, they’ve moved into a somewhat expansive estate – all with the shared hopes of starting their lives together anew – and she’s doing everything she can to get back to the business of just living.
 
Driving home from a late evening event at the school where she works, Cass happens across a stopped automobile.  It’s a dark and stormy night; and – glancing over from the safety of her car – she can’t tell for certain if the driver requires any assistance.  After a short pause, she simply drives away and heads for the safety and comfort of home.
 
The next day, she learns that the female driver she passed was, in fact, murdered.  Over the next few days, Cass begins to doubt what she saw and how it slowly looks like she may very well have been involved in ways she couldn’t imagine.  But – at the same time – spectral happenings around the house have her wondering whether or not she’s living in a haunted mansion or she might be headed for another mental breakdown, a sentiment that’s quickly affirmed by Matthew.  Slowly, Cass begins conducting her own search for the truth, paralleling the efforts of constable DC Lawson (Natalie Simpson) who now has turned her sights on our lead as well, believing that things are most definitely amiss at the Old Crawford estate (which, incidentally, is also rumored to host ghosts aplenty).
 
Sigh.
 
If you can’t tell by that rather bloated synopsis, then let me be clear: Blackwater Lane is a bit of a narrative mess.  The script from Elizabeth Fowler and B.A. Paris throws everything but the kitchen sink into the concoction, including rumors of philandering men, women, and schoolchildren, along with tarot cards, burner phones, a mysterious phone caller, a prescient crow, an omniscient fox, and a convenient ‘there he is, there he isn’t’ disappearing stranger.  But all of it is deliriously uneven.  It both is and isn’t a ghost story.  It both is and isn’t a mystery.  It both is and isn’t a Horror film.  Because it vacillates at every turn, nothing grounds any of it to a sensible core; and I’m left with no single means with which to define the action.
 
To make matters unmistakably worse, the scripters put all of this soundly on the shoulders of Cass Anderson, a character they’ve dubbed in more ways than one as an ‘unreliable narrator.’  At every turn, the script establishes that she can’t be trusted, not that she’s necessarily lying, but she can’t remember things clearly.  She’s potentially hallucinated at every possible turn.  Her past has more holes in it than a JJ Abrams script, and the dreaded mystery box – I fear – will eventually be filled with nothing but air, at best.  It’s arguable the worst approach a storyteller could take here, but I’m guessing that’s all they’ve got.
 
What kills me to say all of this is that I’ve always been a fan of Minka Kelly.  She has the kind of beautiful magnetism wherein I – as a confident, heterosexual male – would show up to watch her watching paint dry.  (One of her male students is obviously as smitten with her as much as I am, so who can blame him?)  While I’d stop short at proclaiming her a great actress in any regard (she has a few moments of mental weakness in here that she handles quite deftly), hers is a talent I’ve just enjoyed casually.  She shows up, makes a nice impression, and then vanishes until she appears in another project.  Her bright eyes and cute smile produce the effect of lighting up a scene; and these traits get shortchanged here because of her character’s professed mental instability.  Too much of her performance revolves around the audience not knowing whether she’s ‘with it’ or not; and that dilutes any negligible impact she could’ve had in moments tense, traumatic, or tepid in this too-long Horror-tinged whodunit.
 
Now, Blackwater Lane had a respectable foundation.
​

Though I’m not sure director Jeff Celentano knew what he wanted from all of this, the film looks interesting here and there so far as production setting and details can carry any effort.  It has a gossamer sheen – it hints at a kinda/sorta loose expose into the world of those seeking fortune and fame by illicit means, the way many a script trafficked in Adult Thrillers of the 1990’s and early 2000’s – but none of it gains traction, mostly because Kelly’s perspective is spoiled with mental hang-ups fairly early.  I spent far too much time watching scenery – knowing that she was erratic, at best – and I suspect most audiences will come away from this one feeling as if it was little more than a Lifetime Movie elevated to mildly greater aspirations with a respectable cast.
 
Blackwater Lane (2024) was produced by Clear Pictures Entertainment, SSS Entertainment, SSS Film Capital, Grindstone Entertainment Group, Kompros Films, Lipsync Productions, and Picture Perfect.  The film shows as presently available via its theatrical release or digital streaming on a variety of platforms.  As for the technical specifications?  While I’m no trained video expert, I thought that the provided sights-and-sounds were quite good across the length of the flick.  Lastly, if you’re looking for special features?  As I viewed this one via streaming, there were no special features under consideration.
 
Alas … only Mildly Recommended.
 
Sigh.  Blackwater Lane (2024) is that kind of film that kinda/sorta promises one story but then veers almost entirely in another direction for its – ahem – big (not really) finish.  As a mystery, there’s no possible way a viewer can assemble the pieces on his or her own because far too much of what transpires is described by Cass Anderson, a proven unreliable narrator.  In fact, one might even suspect that that’s entirely why it was constructed as is: this was the only way to loosely guarantee no one would guess the guilty culprit.  But when there are only one or two choices of whodunit all along?  Well, you’d be a fool not to see this big reveal coming … unless you’d fallen asleep from the relentlessly turgid pacing.
 
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Lionsgate provided me with complimentary streaming access to Blackwater Lane (2024) by request for the expressed purpose of completing this review.  Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.

-- EZ 
​