I was a late bloomer to the goodness of the classic samurai picture.
 
As I’ve mentioned before, I grew up in a small town essentially in the middle of nowhere.  Things like foreign films didn’t exist.  There were no arthouse theaters in my one-horse town.  Likewise, the small private college I attended really didn’t do much to change that aspect of my reality; while the Speech and Theater program did have some film classes, the bulk of that curriculum was centered around American-made classics, so I just had so little exposure to these films.  Granted, I did start to find more titles in the late 1980’s and early 1990’s: a brief career in video retail swung open this door slowly, and I was glad to finally have access to an increasingly global library of content to inspire my film likes and dislikes.
 
So much has been written over the years suggesting how much the quintessential American Western owes to the Japanese samurai film and vice versa, so I don’t feel the need to explore that further.  Suffice it to say, these two genres have so much in common that some might even find it difficult to tell them apart.  The bottom line – so far as I’ve ever considered it – is that each has something to offer the other, and talented storytellers on both sides of the ocean have maximized crossover appeal to benefit of the audience.
 
Today’s treat – Hideo Gosha’s Samurai Wolf – is a picture I’ve long been aware of but unable to locate a suitable copy of for viewing and review purposes.  So a hearty thanks goes out to Film Movement for continuing to bridge the cultural gap and deliver some of the lesser known productions to life again, especially on home video (as opposed to streaming). Don’t get me wrong: I’m all-in on streaming when I can, but – being as old school as I am – I still prefer physical media as it gives me greater opportunity to spend time with a gem like this.
 
And, yes, it is a gem.
 
(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 charismatic ronin gets snared into a conflict between officials at a waystation, and gains the enmity of a group of thugs.”
 
One of the aspects I’ve always enjoyed about samurai films is that – stylistically – I’ve always seen them functioning with a great degree of minimalism so far as the central story goes.  (Mind you: I’ve been told by my cultural betters that this isn’t always the case, but – as this is my review – I can only go with what I’ve seen.)  Whatever the main premise of the flick is, it’s usually very lean; and the time-consuming substance of the picture tends to gravitate toward the shifting alliances of its many characters.
 
For example, in Samurai Wolf writer/director Hideo Gosha crafts an interesting yarn about the movement of 30,000 pieces of gold from one city to another.  In terms of bare bones, that is the story on the bottom line.  However, the true flavor of this visual meal is how all of these players – Ôkaminosuke aka Kiba (played wonderfully by Isao Natsuyagi), Nizaemon (Tatsuo Endô), Akizuki Sanai (Ryôhei Uchida), and others – are reasonably always in flux as it pertains to who they’re pledging their allegiance to.  These changing terms redefine relationships and reshape conflicts, always elevating the otherwise routine affair.  Intelligent viewers (or anyone watching closely) know full well that – in many, many, many samurai pictures – the hero and the villain inevitably end up allies (of a sort) at some juncture in the action.  True, they rarely finish the adventure as friends, but it’s grand for a time when even good and bad respect and abide by the warrior’s code of honor instead of sticking to their guns (erm … swords?) out of sheer convenience or contrivance.

As crafted by Gosha, Wolf takes its sweet time introducing each of the particulars but never stops tweaking what we know about the principle and players.  What never strays, however, is Kiba’s sense of duty and honor.  Understandably, he’s put at odds with Sanai – first because they’re on opposing sides and later as we learn these two men share the love of a blind woman – and he’ll stop at nothing to complete any task he undertakes, even if it means sacrificing his heart in the last regard.  She may love another.  She may even have deceived him and placed his life at great risk.  But those considerations don’t matter on the battlefield of humanity.  Adherence to a code of conduct is paramount.  It isn’t so much because this is how he’s wired: rather, it’s his unflinching commitment to his defining morality that compels him to – without question – abide by these unspoken personal and professional rules.
 
As a director, Gosha kinda/sorta experiments a bit here and there in Wolf with some curious techniques.  An awful lot is done with the accompanying soundtrack – musical and otherwise), and the picture is sprinkled with moments of silence and even a (say it isn’t so!) short sequence of slow motion here and there.  I suppose that film students might have a bit more reflection on that sort of trickery than I do.  My position is that I’m not certain some of it really accomplished anything reverential where it’s applied here; in fact, the occasional loss of audio comes across more like a production flaw (in one case, specifically), and – were I a gambling man – I wonder whether or not Gosha would’ve excised these with greater wisdom learned as an auteur later in his career.
 
When style trumps substance, I – as a viewer – always find it intrusive.  It pulls me out of the experience of watching a film, reminding me that it’s just a movie and – at this point – I begin contemplating what the storyteller was trying to say.  For a brief moment, I stop actively watching and start thinking, and this effect kinda/sorta spoils the mood.  It definitely interrupts the flow.    Though I’ve no doubt such techniques might find license elsewhere, they just felt more like a distraction here than I would’ve liked.
 
In the end, I can forgive any director a few sins, especially when the entertainment is as solid as Wolf is.  Gosha’s picture is a lean masterpiece, one that should tickle the delight of samurai fans everywhere.
 
Samurai Wolf (1966) was produced by Toei Tokyo.  DVD distribution (for this particular release) is being coordinated by the good people at Film Movement.  As for the technical specifications?  After a quick review of the Film Movement website, I’m not seeing any information regarding whether or not these were new scans of existing material, so I can’t comment on that.  I can say that the film looks and sounds fabulous from start-to-finish, though some viewers might believe that there’s a loss of audio (on occasion) due to stylistic choices director Gosha employed.  (FYI: there isn’t, and that sudden silence was part of his master plan.)
 
Lastly, if you’re looking for special features?  The disc includes a video short exploring Gosha’s carrer, and the collection includes a 20-page booklet exploring some of the same.  Samurai Wolf comes with an audio commentary track from Chris Poggiali, and – as commentaries go – I’d have to rate it as fair-to-middling.  Typically, what I look for is information pertaining specifically to this production, and the track is reasonably light on that.  There is a wealth of info regarding the stars, release dates, and some cultural tidbits; I just didn’t feel I learned enough about this flick, and that was a tad disappointing.
 
Highest recommendation possible!
 
Samurai Wolf (1966) is a warrior’s delight, and the flick offers damn near everything and anything a viewer could want from a samurai picture.  Its story is compact, allowing for its characters to bend and shape as they will, switching from hero to villain – from lover to betrayed – at the drop of a hat or the subtle change in circumstance.  Natsuyagi is particularly impressive as his Kiba doesn’t give things like money, credit, and reputation much thought, instead allowing his actions to speak for themselves once swords are crossed.  Scruffy yet fiercely independent, he’s the kind of ronin whose reputation precedes him … and God help the man or woman who stands in his way.
 
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Film Movement provided me with a complimentary Blu-ray of Samurai Wolf 1 & 2 by request for the expressed purposes of completing this review.  Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it. 

-- EZ

There’s a wonderful idiom that storytellers love to exploit from time-to-time, and it goes a little something like this: “The sins of the father will be visited upon the children …”
 
Without reading too much into it, the intrinsic meaning is that either by genetics or through circumstance anything poorly done in life by one’s parents is more than likely going to resurface at some point in the sons and daughters.  Though the passage might have Biblical connotations as well, I’ve always thought that it really only implies that a bloodline might get more than a single chance to accomplish some feat; barring any substandard performance, then the hope would be that the second time would prove fruitful.  Whether or not this signifies that that the elder will find the same redemption and/or salvation from the deeds of his descendants is unclear but mark my words: curses do seem to travel along the strands of DNA, and that’s most of what I take away from my single viewing of Malum (2023).
 
From what I’ve come to know, the picture is actually a bit of a creative do-over for writer/director Anthony DiBlasi.  Apparently, his Night Shift (2014) – which I haven’t seen – stuck with him so fervently over the years that he opted to revisit it here, and I can only guess that it’s been expanded and/or deepened for audiences.  A review of his IMDB.com profile suggests that he took a short break from the business of filmmaking, and perhaps – in that interim – that original flick kept him awake at night, so much so that he opted to once and for all put that ghost to bed with an all-new exploration.
 
Perhaps he should’ve waited a bit longer?
 
I don’t mean that to sound as snarky as it might, because there’s a lot to love about Malum.  Functionally, it’s a fairly tightly woven script that presents from clever chills and spills with what I’d say is ‘just enough’ substance to make it all come together.  For me, the problem lies in the presentation, and I’ll be happy to peel back that layer after the brief disclaimer.
 
(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 rookie police officer willingly takes the last shift at a newly decommissioned police station in an attempt to uncover the mysterious connection between her father’s death and a vicious cult.”
 
Officer Jessica Loren (played by Jessica Sula) wanted to follow in the steps of her father – fallen police captain Will Loren – so much so that she requested her first night on the job to ‘man the phones’ at the decommissioned station wherein dear ol’ dad took his life exactly one year ago.  Now, just exactly why a precinct would keep a defunct and decommissioned location staffed with a single officer might not make much sense – especially given the amount of bedlam this particular city of Lanford seems to be stricken with on this specific night – but if you buy into that narrative set-up, you’re off and running.  If you don’t – if it seems like so perfect a scenario that you could only be in a movie script – then your world view is likely as tarnished as is mine.
 
Setting aside the glaring obviousness of the set-up is actually accomplished very easily as Loren goes about the business of doing – ahem – very little actually resembling police work.  For a time, she roams these quiet hallways, stopping only when a noise here or there prompts her to investigate; and – propelled by the drive to understand exactly what went wrong with her father – she begins looking for clues that might help resolve the mystery of her life.  Lo and behold, she does uncover a small cache of evidence left behind beneath the base of her dad’s locker, and – before you know it – she’s off to the races trying to put together an increasingly bloody puzzle that just might spell her own doom.
 
To be fair, there are a few other occurrences that take place on her shift, but what matters here is Jessica’s quest.  While these happenings might ultimately tie into the whole affair – ever heard of being at the wrong place at the wrong time? – they’re little more than camera fodder for a film centered on as much psychological suspicion as it is good old-fashioned bloodletting.  Suffice it to say, that phantom spirit that pushed her old man to the brink of madness is still very much at work in Lanford, and if the young lady isn’t careful, why, she’s likely to be smitten with the same psychosis!
 
Or is she?
 
The chief problem I have with all of Malum is that – if you’re watching closely – it gets introduced very early on that this old house is infected with a mold.  Yes – since this is the movies, after all – this is not just any mold, but it’s one that – if you’re exposed to it – causes hallucinations.  If you’re like me, then once that factor gets so heavily established it becomes nearly impossible to separate reality from fantasy … and let’s just say that, clearly, the bulk of what remains of Jessica’s first and only work shift is plagued with far too many ‘did this happen or not’ moments.  Once the storyteller certifies that you have a untrustworthy narrator, audiences can rest assured that the house of cards most decidedly will be falling apart before all is said and done.
​

Had this affliction been withheld until much later in the film, then I might have been able to go with the flow a bit more easily than I did in this sitting.  I say this because DiBlasi and his cast and crew went to some fabulous lengths to make this haunted house work, and – on a purely visceral level – they achieve some truly great scenes and sequences.  Sula is an actress who knows how to hit her marks; while the supporting cast is fairly thin, they all still perform at a level of peak efficiency to deliver exactly what’s needed, when it’s needed, and in the proper supply to produce the required impact.  But when you know from the film’s get-go that the point-of-view has been purposefully skewed – and you’re presented with scenes that don’t quite follow narrative logic – it grows increasingly challenging to ‘sell the sizzle’ for ninety minutes.
 
None of this takes away from what Malum does well, and – as a carnival-style attraction that’s meant to make you jump – it’s vastly smarter than your average bear.  The technical proficiency involving the camera work, the performances, and the special effects warrants a good amount of respect, especially given the fact that so very much of this feels like a small budget and/or independent production.  In fact, those elements alone kept me watching and interested in Jessica’s personal journey.  I just wish her rationality hadn’t been so obviously in question from so early in the picture.
 
Malum (2023) was produced by Welcome Villain.  According to the press materials I have been provided, Malum is presently available for streaming purchase (effective 05/16/2023) on such platforms as iTunes, Amazon Video, VUDU, and Google Play.  As for the technical specifications?  Nothing short of ‘wow.’  The film looks and sounds incredible from start-to-finish, with director DiBlasi suitably cultivating a dynamic atmosphere for all things that go bump in the night … and not only to they go bump?  They bleed extremely well, too!  The film features some excellent practical Horror effects for fans who enjoy that sort of thing, and I’m not ashamed to admit I do.  As this was a streaming presentation, there were no special features to comment upon.
 
Recommended.
 
Despite some narrative issues – as in “what’s really happening here?” – Malum is mostly a lean and efficient thriller.  Jessica Sula gives a compelling central performance, shouldering the weight of so much storytelling with relative ease.  Cinematography both inside and outside the decommissioned police precinct is quite good.  Also, I’d be a fool if I failed to mention again that the in-camera practical effects are exceedingly well-crafted, the kind of thing this reviewer wishes more Horror flicks were doing these days.  If you can look the other way with respect to the film’s somewhat pronounced shortcomings, then you’re definitely in for one of the wildest nights in this young lady’s short life.
 
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Welcome Villain provided me with complimentary streaming access to Malum (2023) by request for the expressed purposes of completing this review.  Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.

​-- EZ

Hey there, folks, and Happy Tuesday!  (Well, Happy Tuesday for you folks, anyway ...)

Just wanted to pop in this morning with a quick update as I know that there are a few of you who do show up in this space every day looking for new content.  As an FYI, that may be light for a few days as I'm -- ugh -- back at the dentist this morning for a reasonably serious procedure.  The whole thing started about two years ago with a root canal that -- ugh ugh ugh -- was done poorly.  I had to go back to have it worked on a few times -- mostly because the original dentist didn't quite get it right the first time -- and now the whole tooth has to be extracted as the initial work just didn't take.  So, yes, yours truly is in a bit of pain, but right now it's manageable.  It likely won't be, however, once they work their dental magic this morning.

I don't know how you folks process pain, but my body has always gone into a kind of shutdown mode: I get really, really, really tired, and the only thing I can do is sleep.  So most likely I'll come back home and spend the day in bed later this A.M.  That's really best for a body anyway when it's undergoing any trauma -- big and small -- and I wanted to share that.

I might pop in for some small announcements and whatnot depending upon how well I'm recovering over the next few days to a week.  But, otherwise, it'll likely be a bit quiet in these parts on longer articles and/or reviews.

Wish me the best!

As always, thanks for reading ... and live long and prosper!

​-- EZ

(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters.  If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last 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 crew of oceanic researchers working for a deep-sea drilling company try to get to safety after a mysterious earthquake devastates their deepwater research and drilling facility located at the bottom of the Mariana Trench.”
 
I have a vague recollection of seeing some of the advertisements for Underwater – as well as reading a few reviews – during the Age Of Covid.  From what I can recall, the picture scored some minor praise from industry types, though I can’t imagine it churned up a whole lot of business given the circumstances of the Great Plague.  Now that I’ve had the chance to take it in via a pay cable screening of it, I’m honestly a bit surprised that it’s earned so much love from folks in online genre communities; but – then again – I’m an ‘old dog’ who’s seen a whole lot of similar pictures so maybe sorta it wasn’t quite meant for me.  Yes, it’s been done before, and it’s been done vastly better.
 
In fact, I have a suspicion that producers likely cast actress Kristen Stewart as the project’s unconvincing lead in hopes that her appeal with younger audiences – stemming from her tenure in the Twilight franchise – might have specifically translated into bigger box office receipts.  There’s absolutely nothing wrong with that, and – to a certain degree – that very may be the project’s sole saving grace as so much in here is pretty forgettable.  Stewart certainly does what she can with this heavily water-logged production, though not even her street cred can bring this sinker to the surface for more than a single viewing.
 
The script is credited to Brian Duffield and Adam Cozad.
 
While I was one of the few I know of who enjoyed Cozad’s work on The Legend Of Tarzan (2016), that property certainly suffered through poor-to-middling reviews and failed to deliver on its blockbuster potential.  Duffield – on the other hand – is a name I recognized: a quick review of his IMDB.com profile shows him attached to two other flicks that arguably enjoyed more positive buzz.  Spontaneous (2020) and Love And Monsters (2020) had many more sparks of life than did Underwater, and – dare I say? – they even had their respective bits of freshness to genre ideas that had been tinkered with before.  But, alas, Duffield brought no significant energy to this deepwater thriller, instead piling on trope after trope – cliché after cliché – in a never-ending assault on the audience’s senses.
 
Essentially, Underwater is textually similar to Ridley Scott’s Alien (1979) along with affectionate nods to such other similarly set oceanic adventures like The Abyss (1989), Leviathan (1989), and DeepStar Six (1989).  However, IMDB.com’s synopsis for Underwater even fails to mention that there’s a monster in this picture – let me assure you that there is one, and it’s a doozy – so perhaps the marketing for this whole affair failed to make that connection upon its original release?  Rather than depict a straight story of a trapped crew’s attempts to survive, this one creates a whole new species in the deep, though there’s really little to no information about where they may’ve come from and/or whether they’re somehow tied to these deep-drilling efforts.  In fact, this script really gives viewers little to rely on.  It’s a shame they couldn’t spare so much as a theory here or there.
 
Unlike the other films Underwater kinda/sorta copies, this crew is given perhaps the thinnest backstories of record.  We’re given – quite plainly – no time to get to know them whatsoever as the cataclysmic event that puts them on the run takes place only moments after the opening credits have rolled.  All of a sudden, it’s one explosion after another – one structural collapse piled on something similar – and they’re high-tailing it from one deep sea installation to the next.  Stewart occasionally looks tired – a big no-no when you’re the lead – and the best co-star T.J. Miller can do is try to recreate the snarky panic most noticeably owed to a young Bill Paxton in James Cameron’s Aliens (1986).  Must everything be derivative these days?
​

Still, kudos are given to Director William Eubank.  He definitely kept the film moving at a mostly breakneck pace after that first explosion, but as we’re never properly introduced to the individuals there’s no emotional attachment whatsoever … and no compunction to care about the successive deaths, heroic or otherwise.  To a certain degree, it’s a disaster film, so one expects a fair body count.  But in smarter fare we’re at least given a reason to like or dislike the players, and that’s not the case here.  Little time was expended on character traits.  Instead, they’re all just victims – one after another – in the visual cacophony that’s occasionally even harder to discern (because of the murky depths, you know).
 
Now, I don’t normally do this as I’ve given you a spoiler warning above but for those of you who truly DO NOT WISH TO HAVE THE PLOT SPOILED, this is your last notice as what I discuss next is rather significant.
 
So … you’ve been suitably warned.
 
Here it is:
 
When it comes to telling any story, I’ve always believed that writers need to be as free from rules as is humanly (and humanely) possible.  Storytellers really need to be free to use whatever tools they have at their disposal whenever and however they like, but – even then – the medium of film does have some requirements – some cardinal sins – that should never be broken unless you have some incredible stylistic reason.
 
For example, one-time auteur Emilio Estevez actually kinda/sorta tanked a somewhat promising career as a writer/director – believe it or not.  In 1986, he largely brought that potential to a screeching halt with the release of his film Wisdom.  In it, he played John Wisdom, a modern-day Robin Hood who turns to a life of crime in order to help ailing farmers across the fruited plains.  I won’t go into any major discussion of the plot, mostly because that doesn’t matter here, but I will say Estevez penned his script with Wisdom serving as the narrator for the audience.  Structurally, that’s all well and good … but even after the character dies in the conclusion Wisdom is shown very much alive – on screen – narrating his death for the audience.  Needless to say, critics were flummoxed.  Erm … aren’t you dead?  If so, then how can you be here, telling us this story?  It caused a huge narrative break, and the picture – along with Estevez’s career – suffered the fallout.
 
Sadly, Duffield and Cozad have done the same in Underwater.
 
The picture is narrated from start to finish by Stewart’s character.  Even though we see her demise in the closing moments, there she is – the omniscient and omnipotent narrator – still detailing for us who she is, what she did, and what her fate would be.  It’s more than a bit silly, and – frankly – it sank whatever good will the flick likely earned with its frenetic pacing and excellent production work.
 
Bad choice, boys.  And – even worse?  It could’ve been fixed in post.
 
Underwater (2020) was produced by Chernin Entertainment, TSG Entertainment, and 20th Century Fox.
 
(Mildly) Recommended.
 
Functionally, there’s not a lot wrong with Underwater (2020).  It’s a reasonably well-made monster movie with solid effects work, fabulous production details, and an impressive cast, all set in a workable race-against-time to save themselves from multiple scenarios before the big finish.  However, we’ve seen the formula for Underwater done many, many, many times before – with much better results – leaving me kinda/sorta tired with its paint-by-number characters, supremely predictable plot turns, and – ahem – watered-down premise.

​-- EZ

(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters.  If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last 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 Supernatural Beings begin to question their Godhood, when they encounter a human being, an ordinary woman with an uncanny essence, who doesn’t conform to their thousands of years of knowledge about humanity.  They journey through her existence, as it relates to their desperate need to understand answers to questions, they never believed existed.”
 
I once heard it said: “It’s a wonderful life … until it isn’t.”
 
Therein lies the dilemma for the Greek gods Hermes (played by Dane Oliver) and Athena (Ciarra Carter) who are at the center of Exceptional Beings.  As we learn, they’ve gone about the business of being immortal, only turning an eye onto those pesky lower life forms better known as human beings when perchance looking for perform a bit of trickery or a batch of foul play.  But – lo and behold – what are the two to make of their experience as deities when an encounter with ‘mere mortal’ Mina Bihary (Rachel Thundat) suggests that life – as they believe they’ve known it – still has secrets they’ve yet to crack?  Aren’t they gods?  Don’t they know all there is to know?  Or could it possibly be that even gods have gods they inevitably must answer to, or was there another form of existence – something on the evolutionary scale between gods and man – that’s been long overlooked?
 
Why, so very much of what elevates the ideas for Exceptional Beings – adapted for the screen and directed (with assistance) by Njedeh Anthony – is the existential struggle like none expected.  Hermes, Athena, and Apollo are drawn into conflict again and again and again not because of the exercise of their traditional responsibilities with effect to man, the world, and the universe; instead, one of them has seen something that doesn’t balance with their conception of reality, and – sometimes together, sometimes apart – they’ll move Heaven, Hell, Earth, and anything in between to get the answers they believed to be part-and-parcel of their birthright.
 
Some might call Beings a bit too talky and light on action, but – so far as this reviewer is concerned – it’s in these on-and-off discussions of life that the film works best.  Oliver and Carter make the best of their brother/sister act, balancing out their respective love, hate, and pure disdain for one another and everything around them in the pantheon.  Oliver handles Hermes’ uptight prissiness with some accomplished contempt.  He’s the quintessential eternal whose spent the better part of infinity glaring down his nose at all things inferior (which is, like, basically all).  As Athena, Carter – in contrast – has allowed the heights she has soared to convince her that the world and its inhabitants are playthings waiting for her destructive tendencies to grind them into dust.  You and I?  Why, we’re toys in her games!  This central relationship – the brotherly and sisterly back-and-forth – gives the entire production the undercurrent it needs to sustain itself, mostly because the rest of the affair is a bit … well … lifeless.
​

Anthony’s script is curiously structured with both flashbacks and asides that sometimes feels a bit jerky.  The audience is pulled on the journey – with the gods going when and where they want – and I didn’t find the narrative as seamless as I would’ve liked.  There are even a few exchanges delivered a bit too hard to follow, causing me to question whether or not they needed to exist in this cut.  Again, some of this disconnect may be owed to the fact that time spent with Hermes and Athena apart – with the exception of scenes involving Apollo (a very good but curiously underplayed Victoria Antonelli) – just don’t have the intellectual substance I think the overall film needed.  Bihary’s performance – as the kinda/sorta ‘is she or isn’t she’ human/immortal hybrid – is good, but the story just lacks any real connective tissue between her and the audience to lift it up front-and-center.  As the picture’s A-plotline, it just isn’t as interesting as are time spent with the gods.  The end result is that viewers may not much care what Mina’s identity may or may not be until very, very, very late in the process.
 
But … isn’t that always the case?
 
From what I can remember of my days studying Greek mythology in college (and, yes, I took a few courses), it was those nefarious philandering dealings with the immortals that were always more interesting than what the average man, woman, or child was up to in the tales.  In fact, humans were little more than their curios to the exalted one – with a few exceptions – and I suspect that display of sheer galactic power is what has always drawn people to myths and continues to do so today.  In that regard, Beings definitely is a story worthy of exploration.  It might not be everyone’s cup of tea, but I dare anyone who loves good dialogue between scene-chewing heavyweights to ignore the magnetism of Oliver, Carter, and Antonelli when director Anthony lets them strut their stuff.  While it could’ve used a bit of spit polish here and there, these exchanges are still pretty darn good; and the onscreen talent seems like they were having a good time wearing the shoes of our masters.
 
Wouldn’t you?
 
So, yes, there’s a story to tell in this humble little universe, one of arrogant overlords both finding their way and cementing their place in a reality that’s long forgotten them.  Starz Network’s American Gods adaptation of Neil Gaiman’s novel of the same name covered some of the same intellectual ground, but the program’s constantly changing creative crew hamstrung it from developing any real momentum.  (Pfft.  Go and read the Gaiman book anyway.  It’s damn stellar, by the way.)  And shows like Lucifer and Dominion have always been popular in exploring the drama between good and evil, especially when the very wicked gets brought to life by so many charming and attractive villains.  Still, what emerges from Beings is a bit uneven.  It never achieves a balance between the issues heavy or light, and it fails to give a compelling reason why I should care about its damsel-in-distress Mina.  This could be because we, too, learn that not all is as it seems with the schoolteacher from California, and the reveal felt a bit too orchestrated.
 
Exceptional Beings (2023) was produced by The Gestalt Effect and FJ Morgan.  According to a Google search, the film is presently available for streaming only on such platforms as Prime Video, Apple TV, or Vudu.
 
As for the technical specifications?  The sights and sounds are very good.  While I can’t prove it, I suspect that the feature was shot digitally with some special effects added in post-production.  The quality of the effects is occasionally a bit spotty, harkening back to work done a few decades ago; as a result, they might get in the way of the experience for some viewers as they have more of a quaint foundation – and are mildly clunky – than anything else.  I’d also be remiss if I failed to mention that there was a sequence or two wherein the sound levels were a bit off as one character suddenly came through much louder than the other.  And a camera angle here and there?  It could’ve been improved.  Such can be the nature of low-budget and/or independent production, so consider yourself warned.
 
(Mildly) Recommended.
 
I’ve seen enough independent productions in my day to know that these are stories not only difficult to tell but also hard to score with audiences; and – while that might be the fate of 2023’s Exceptional Beings – I hope this Fantasy perseveres well enough to find a market.  It’s occasionally prescient.  It’s occasionally interesting.  Its players hit their marks, and there’s a lean efficiency to a meal that has more meat on it than most might see at first glance.  While I might nitpick things like pacing and point-of-view all day long, I can still see the potential in its ideas.  Here’s hoping Anthony learns what he can from this first installment and puts them to great use in the promised follow-up (teased in the after credits scene).
 
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that writer/director Njedeh Anthony provided me with complimentary streaming access to Exceptional Beings (2023) in agreement for a review of the production.  His contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.

​-- EZ

I know, I know, I know: I've mentioned to regular readers of SciFiHistory.Net many, many, many times before that I grew up in the somewhat rural pocket of the American Midwest where -- I kid you not -- I was lucky to have six or maybe seven or eight television channels on a good day.  I lived 'in-town' -- as they say -- and that gave me access to the big three networks in America (ABC, NBC, and CBS) but I also had WGN (out of Chicago) along with the occasional handful of other very small broadcast stations out of only God knows where.  As so many small channels back in those days did, they were part of a syndicated group that would purchase older shows and foreign imports to run as part of their daily rotation.  This is how I grew up watching programs like the United Kingdom's Thunderbirds or Japan's Johnny Sokko And His Giant Robot, The Space Giants, and a few other goofy things whose names I just don't recall.  Some were anime, but the majority of them that I watched were live action.

In any event ...

When the rest of you were getting (cough cough) some artistic and measured programming to stunt your growth, I was getting a bit of healthy schlock that wound up making me laugh half of the time but kept my interest all of it.  Much like the Godzilla and/or Gamera movies, these shows featured giant lumbering monsters that were clearly being played by men and women in horrifically padded suits; and these villains were crafted and played on the small screen in such a way to suggest that they were never really ever going to overpower the show's central warriors but instead be a bit of a nagging infestation that momentarily required some heroic intervention by the good guys.  So, yes, I call it schlock, but it was all delivered in such a good-natured and wholesome way that a child like me couldn't find any harm in any of it ... no matter if I tried.

​If you do a bit of research, then you'll find out that shows like this still exist to this day.  Though I imagine their viewership is probably quite small, theirs is a kind of programming that endures, much in the same way that Star Trek, Star Wars, and the like do ... creators have a fondness for them, so they seek to keep them alive ... even if that means lampooning them.

Fast forward to today: I recently received a notice from one of my industry insiders alerting me to a little something-something called Ginormo!  Rather than have me give you the details -- which, honestly, I'd probably mess up a wee bit here and there as I haven't watched this one yet -- I'm going to do the obligatory cut-and-paste below ... but I will pipe in to suggest that this very much resembles one of those programs of my vast and distant youth.  Basically, you get a stable of heroes who each episode have to face-off against some potential menace-to-end-all-menaces; and -- unlike those shows of old -- this one satirizes the whole affair to the delight of the audience.

Keep your eyes peeled!  If I get the chance to give this pilot episode a screening (I believe it drops on YouTube today), then I'll be all-too-happy to pen a review.
​

Created in the early 1970’s, Ginormo! follows the Super Protection Force (SPF) as they protect the world from the evil organization, Beast Advanced Artillery Division (BAAD), which seeks to take over the world using the most terrifying monsters ever created. Unfortunately, due to the shoe-string budget and the incompetence of the production team, the show was so badly done, it never aired.


Recently discovered by Steven He, we will be airing it for the first time as an unintentional comedy masterpiece.


From the show's IMDB.com page citation:
Ginormo is a sci-fi comedy series satirizing Japanese monster movies and TV shows of the 1960s and 1970s. Using only effects from that time period - bad rubber monster suits, spaceships on strings, miniatures and hokey scripts and dialogue - Ginormo pays homage to a period of craftsmanship before CGI came onto the scene. Presented as a lost science fiction series from 1972 that was never aired because it was so bad, Ginormo lovingly and humorously pays tribute to a by-gone era in the form of a ridiculous meta comedy that can be enjoyed by young and old alike. Created by two AAPI writer/producer/directors - Ken Mok (Joy, Invincible, America's Next Top Model) and Youtube star Steven He, Ginormo also showcases a primarily AAPI cast - a talent base that's historically been under-represented in film and television.

About Ginormo!

• 6 episode series
• Premieres May 12, 2023
• New episode released each Friday on Steven He’s Youtube 
• Episode 1: A Show So Bad It never AIRED | Ginormo! Ep.1
• Created by Ken Mok and Steven He

​The Cast

• Steven He as Mikko
• Alan Chikin Chow as Lord Metagon
• Jeenie Weenie sa Kimmie
• Nathan Doan as Munchie
• Kris Collins as Lady Spigh
• Joma as Jazzypus
• Steven Ho as Uniclop
• Ian Boggs as Major Boba
• Jennings Brower as Ginormo! and Hunky Guy
• Introducing Jay Lee and Lauren Kim

​

​Having grown up through the home video boom of the 1980’s and even having worked in video retail for a short time in the 1990’s, I’ve seen more than a fair amount of schlock.
 
Honestly, schlockbusters were all the craze for a good number of years.  Folks were all-too-happy to search the video store shelves for what looked like it could be a ‘diamond in the rough,’ and I can’t tell you how incredibly sad I am that those days have gone by.  There were so many good – not great – flicks that somehow found their way onto VHS; and the entertainment industry certainly benefitted from what seemed to be a never-ending assault of B-movie thrillers and chillers.  The trend continued throughout the 1990’s and into the 2000’s, but – for a whole host of reasons – video stores just couldn’t quite compete once it was more affordable to buy a film outright, thus cutting out the middleman.
 
And – disagree if you must – a little something-something like Space Wars: Quest For The Deepstar (2022) would be the kind of rental title that big stores would get a good number of copies to dispense.  For the first few weeks of its shelf life, customers would pick it out, take it home, and give it a go.  Some positive praise from regular Joes meant that it’d actually do quite well for whatever distributor picked it up and gave it an honest chance.  While such fanfare rarely translated into calls for a sequel, it still resonated with folks who – like me – just watch movies to be entertained and not preached to, indoctrinated, or chastised for voting or thinking the wrong way politically.
 
Simply put, this is pure space F-A-N-T-A-S-Y.
 
It’s made by folks who love it, and it’s intended for viewers who appreciate it.  It may not make perfect sense.  It may not ask or answer any of life’s big questions.  It certainly won’t alter the way one thinks about the wider world outside.  But for 90 minutes it takes away whatever pain or suffering troubles you in the short term, and maybe it makes you smile, laugh, and cheer along the way.
 
(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:
“Life is an adventure for space scavengers Kip Corman and his daughter Taylor as they navigate their ship through a universe filled with monsters, aliens, and robots in order to reach the mythical Deepstar and collect the riches within.”
 
Right off the bat I’m going to let you know that Space Wars is most definitely not Star Wars.
 
That Lucasfilm intellectual property is certainly so well-renowned that no self-respecting member of any audience – big or small – should confuse the two, but I thought it appropriate to point out anyway.  Star Wars spends a helluva lot of money – and invests a whole lot more in props, sets, costumes, make-up, etc. – to bring that galaxy far, far away to cinematic life.  Though less money might be spent on Space Wars, there’s still an awful lot in common between the two franchises, especially when it comes to swashbuckling adventures set on distant worlds – and in outer space – where you can clearly tell the difference between the good guys and the bad.
 
Writer/director Garo Setian (along with assistance from screenwriter Joe Knetter) have crafted their own low-budget space opera not only with a helluva lot of love but also done so with a healthy nod toward the SciFi serials of old.  Flash Gordon (1936) and Buck Rogers (1939) pitted heroes against interstellar bad guys, man-eating monsters, and even the fairer sex in cliffhanger installments that stretched out over their theatrical schedule; and – in so many way – Space Wars feels like a modern re-incarnation of the formula.  Why, our intrepid captain Kip Corman (played by genre heavyweight Michael Paré) and his comely yet tough daughter Taylor (Sarah French) can’t go from one reel to the next without finding themselves yet again with their feet to the fire, but that’ll never stop them from wanting to live a life of adventure … even it kills them.
 
A bit long in the tooth but still nursing an incredible career, Paré may not be a contemporary Buster Crabbe (Google it, kids) yet he holds his own here as an aging rogue who’ll stop at nothing to keep what’s left of his family intact.  The script gives him the chance to potentially reunite with his departed wife Lacey (Elise Muller); still, the reincarnation subplot of Space Wars – along with the quest for the Deepstar and its untold riches – never really quite ascends to anything other than a storytelling MacGuffin.  (It’s the future, mankind has transcended death, souls are now liquid … honestly, it all felt a bit contrived and left me with a whole lot of existential questions.)  Yes, father and daughter pursue the dream together, but there’s much more to Taylor than what meets the eye … and that’s where I think the story should’ve stayed focused.
 
French is a bit of a revelation here.  She practically swaggers her way into an action heroine role, so much so that I’m hoping to see her do far more of this in the future.  (I say this at a time in our cultural history when I’m well aware that screen work like this is often frowned upon by our cultural betters.)  Sexy, smart, and athletic, her Taylor is always up to the task at hand, though she’s nursing a private wound kept secret until late in the picture.  Clearly, she and Paré worked to develop their daddy/daughter chemistry; and – for the most part – it works just fine.  Saddling her with some of the usual B-Movie histrionics (i.e. seducing the bad guys, fostering her own duplicity, etc.) kinda/sorta cheapens the role at time, but come the big finish she’s clearly had an awful lot of fun kicking ass, firing phasers, and taking names.
 
If all of this isn’t enough to alert you to Space Wars’ B-Movie goodness, then can I add one more name?
​

Like Paré, Olivier Gruner is equally well known for his time spent in secondary cinema.  A star of Nemesis (1992), Savage (1996), and Velocity Trap (1999), Gruner cut his teeth on roles that put his brains and his brawn to good use; and he built an incredible base of fans in genre circles along the way.  In Space Wars, he plays Dykstra – true SciFi fans should get that association – a hardened criminal who has made it his life’s mission to not only find the Deepstar but to put its rumored vast wealth to his personal use.  As the chief baddie, he chews scenery with the best of them.
 
As invariably happens at some point in my review, I have to talk about a film’s shortcomings; and, yes, even something as fun as Space Wars has a few deficiencies.
 
Though I can’t prove it, I strongly suspect that several key locations (i.e. starship cockpits, crew quarters, etc.) were functionally the same, meaning that they were heavily redressed to give the appearance to being someplace different.  Usually, I’m not distracted by this kind of thing, but it kinda/sorta became a bit too obvious in a few sequences.  Also, the sets were incredibly small, so much so that shooting a scene from various angles was likely out of the question; and, yes, this inhibits the aesthetics from feeling as big as space opera requires occasionally.  The accomplishments here are good, but I couldn’t help wondering how much greater the film would’ve been overall with a mildly enhanced budget.
 
Lastly, I’d be remiss in my duties of promoting All Things Genre if I failed to point out that Setian and his cast and crew have been the recipients of some positive praise on the film festival circuit and beyond.  IMDB.com reports that Space Wars garnered trophies from the 2023 Hollywood Gold Awards, the Zed Fest Film Festival, and the Hollywood Independent Filmmaker Awards And Festival.  I’m not surprised that others are singing its praises as this is the kind of storytelling that always finds an audience, though it might take a bit of sweat, effort, and moxie in the modern era.
 
Space Wars: Quest For The Deepstar (2022) was produced by Hungry Monster Entertainment, Millman Productions, and Ron Lee Productions.  DVD distribution (for this particular release) is being coordinated by Uncork’d Entertainment.  As for the technical specifications?  Take note: this is a reasonably low budget production, but it actually looks and sounds quite good throughout most of the affair.  As can happen when effects are rendered digitally in post, they can appear more than a bit obvious here-and-there as well as occasionally coming off with some underwhelming images.  At the end of the day, it is what it is, but I didn’t find that it decreased my enjoyment of the flick.
 
Lastly, if you’re looking for special features?  The disc includes a commentary track along with deleted scenes, the theatrical trailer, and around four minutes of bloopers.  (Poor Ms. French!  That oxygen tank just didn’t want to stay on your back!)  It’s a very good collection considering the fact that this is one of those secondary releases that usually gets little to nothing.  Well done, cast and crew.  Well done!
 
Flawed but still recommended.
 
Space Wars: Quest For The Deepstar is an imperfect B-Movie that has more heart and chutzpah than most big budget productions; and it was clearly made by folks who likely had as much fun assembling it as this critic did watching it.  Alas – as smaller features do – it has its share of problems and quirks, most of which is owed to the nature of low-budget magic acts, campy scripts, and smarmy villains.  Setting those deficiencies aside isn’t all that tough for genre fans of my age; so I’ll happily admit that I enjoyed this as a throwback to the days of movie serials.  Back there, developments didn’t always make narrative sense … but they sure made for a wonderful carnival attraction.
 
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to share that this review was penned entirely based on my own purchase of Space Wars: Quest For The Deepstar at the local WalMart on DVD as Uncork’d Entertainment was unable to provide me with a complimentary screener.

​-- EZ

How we know what we know has always been an area of exploration that finds modest audience interest in the art-house film scene.
 
Pictures like 2004’s Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind kinda/sorta tinkered with memory and memory loss, but I was largely turned off by its endless character quirks and curiously unaligned narrative focus.  1990’s Total Recall with Arnold Schwarzenegger took the idea of implanting memories and stuck it in a big budget picture that probably worked best though it really glossed over the more cerebral elements in favor of box office success.  Heading back into the 80’s, there were some features a bit more commercial in value – 1983’s Brainstorm and 1984’s Dreamscape – but they, too, were somewhat forgettable in that they tried to capitalize more on the exploitative perspective to all of it.
 
For my tastes, Vanishing Waves (2012) resembles in many ways 2013’s Upstream Color, though it comes at similar subject matter from an entirely different point-of-view: here, the tale injects our narrator into another person’s head, putting him up close and personal in a way that inevitably threatens both of their sanities.
 
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and character.  If you’re the kind of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last three paragraphs for my final assessment.  If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
 
From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“A neuron-transfer scientist experiments with the thoughts of a comatose young woman.”
 
Well …
 
The premise behind Vanishing Waves is a bit more complicated than IMDB.com would have you believe.
 
Lukas (played by Marius Jampolskis) is a neuroscience researcher who agrees to have his mind linked to that of a comatose auto-accident survivor named Aurora (a weirdly incandescent Jurga Jutaite).  At first, their psychic meetings involve little more than an exchange of curious sights and sounds, but, eventually, Lukas finds himself drawn into her world not as an observer but as a direct participant in the happenings of her mind.  As he’s pulled closer and closer, their encounters slowly evolve from primal, sexual experiences into a full-blown discussion of sensual delights (pleasure, then pain, then memories).  It isn’t long before Lukas finds himself compelled – in the outside material world – toward seeking out and attempting to care for (in subtle ways) Aurora’s comatose body.
​

Therein lies our narrator’s central conflict: he’s growing more and more enraptured by this woman, her life, and her memories.  Science – in its purest form – requires that the observer creates no attachment to his or her subjects as we’re told such a connection will directly skewer the experiment’s results.  This connection forces Lukas to withhold the truth behind these experiences, and thus the entire procedure is jeopardized.
 
Vanishing Waves is a smart experience for the audience, and, as such, it’s none to be taken lightly.  It’s a slow and measured presentation that requires patience on the part of the viewers because answers aren’t readily available.  Lukas’s revelations take time to grow from the simplistic to those with greater complications and awareness.  The initial mystery he’s presented, of course, is trying to understand the female mind he’s trapped inside; and there’s some clever photography and cinematography that hints at how this is accomplished in his role as psychic observer.  It’s when he’s asked by Aurora to begin administering pain and suffering that he fully comprehends just how far over the threshold he’s crossed.  This posts his most fundamental dilemma: does he ever really want to ever go back?
 
Writer/director Kristina Buozyte stages these character discoveries in sequences some might be quick to dismiss as little more than ‘artistic expression,’ but, once it’s clear how strongly her characters are linked, the stakes are raised.  Then, Waves becomes a vastly more successful storytelling vehicle.  Naturally, this storytelling process takes time, and Buozyte goes to great lengths to establish that both Lukas and Aurora are finding exactly what they want in life in their disturbing ‘unreality’ – he finds he can fulfill real human needs while she gets to experience unbridled desire once more.  Sadly, the conclusion ends up being entirely predictable … but, boy, it’s quite the journey before the destination lets us down.
 
Vanishing Waves (2012) is produced by Acajou Films and Tremora.  DVD distribution (stateside) is being handled through Artsploitation Films.  For those needing it spelled out perfectly, this is a Lithuanian-spoken release with English subtitles, and there are some sequences of the film spoken entirely in English (which makes for some curious sequences of subtitles popping in and out distractingly).  As for the technical specifications, wow!  The film’s sound and visuals are increasingly used to enhance the sensual experience that so much of WAVES relies on in its first half; it diminishes in the latter, but there are cue sequences (clues) sprinkled throughout.  As for the special features, Artsploitation has done an exceptional job with this release: it’s a two-disc production including director Kristina Buozyte’s first feature film (THE COLLECTRESS), a Cineurope interview with her, the original motion picture soundtrack, and a ‘making of’ short.  Additionally, the packaging includes an impressive 12-page collector’s booklet featuring a ‘conversation’ with Buozyte and a brief interview exchange with Ms. Jutaite.  Nice digs, if you can get ‘em.
 
A slow burn, for sure, but Highly Recommended.
 
In some odd ways, I’m reminded of Upstream Color (a superior work from earlier the same year) and even some cerebral sci-fi of the late 1960’s and early 70’s.  The chief complaint I’d have critically with Vanishing Waves is that it embraces an almost passionless narrative for far too much of the film, embracing its hard science angle almost until the final third of the picture.  Presenting so many images with emotional detachment puts the viewer in the role of deciphering far too much of the story, though it’s possible if you’re watching really, really, really closely to make a best educated guess as what the meaning of the pre-credits sequence truly is (and you’d probably be right).  Once it becomes clearer, then all of the players deliver an all-too-predictable and all-too-convenient denouement for those earlier forty minutes that so deeply invested in transcending borders.  Still, it’s a smart SciFi flick – one that’ll probably inspire others to try more of the same – and, for that, I’m very thankful.
 
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that the fine folks at Artsploitation Films provided me with a DVD copy of Vanishing Waves by request for the expressed purposes of completing this review.  Their contribution to me in no way, shape, or form influenced my opinion of it.

​-- EZ

As one who watches an awful lot of films and television – along with the reality that I write about a good percentage of what I see – I do get more than a fair share of recommendations from folks all over the planet.
 
The truth is that – with my various commitments – I’ll never get the chance to take in everything that gets ‘hawked’ my way.  While I keep a good handful of lists – and my Amazon.com queue is certainly chocked full of pictures I might purchase or rent – there are simply far too many for me to get to in a single lifetime.  And … wouldn’t you know it?  So, so, so many of them do look very good!  Some of them are obviously well-produced with a good chunk of change spent on producing the latest and greatest special effects while others look to have taken a much more reserved approach, hoping that the weight of a grand story might just make up for the missing visual spectacle.  As my list of reviews suggest, I’ll damn near watch anything: the only qualifier is that, yes, I have to make time for it.  So those of you who’ve passed on suggestions?  I do thank you for your patience.
 
Arrowhead – or as it’s more commonly known as Alien Arrival (2016) – apparently evolved from a well-received short flick of the same name.  Writer/director Jesse O’Brien definitely packed the work with more than a healthy share of meaty ideas, and that alone might make it the kind of film that’s worth a single experience, though I suspect many won’t find it worthy of a second helping.  It kinda/sorta reminded me of a good number of other SciFi projects that may’ve achieved a higher profile or a purer pedigree; but – at the end of the day – I have to say I found it a bit undercooked, much of which might well be owed to the fact that it had far too many ideas for this reviewer to keep track of in a single sitting.
 
The truth hurts but sometimes short films don’t translate to full features as what’s authentically novel about them gets obscured in the bloated production.
 
(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 tech is sprung from prison by a revolutionary leader who promises him an opportunity to save his father from a scheduled execution if he completes a data-stealing mission.  But it goes awry, stranding him on a strange alien moon.”
 
Question: when is a good idea a bad thing?
 
Answer: when it gets weighted down with baggage unnecessarily complicated.
​

That might make sense to those of you who’ve seen Alien Arrival.  Writer/director O’Brien essentially takes a SciFi-centric tale about survival and morphs it into something that requires far too much world-building behind-the-scenes for it to perhaps get digested in a single gulp.  Had he simply stuck to a single track – that of a man downed on an alien moon coming to grips with a foreign environment like no other – then he might’ve successfully copied the formula for the Tom Hanks’ flick Cast Away (2000), set it in space, and a real winner.  But layering upon the concepts of some evolving galactic war – one that makes little sense in the beginning so far as what it’s all being fought over – along with some increasingly confusing ideas of time-loops and time dilation – thrown up against the undercurrent of capital punishment, artificial intelligence, and resurrection – well … there you go, folks.  There’s just too damn much going on to pack into a 90+ minute script.
 
And, yes, it is a crying shame because up to a point this Arrival works rather efficiently.  Though it definitely borrows on the aesthetics of so many other Science Fiction films that came before – Fortress (1992), No Escape (1994), Screamers (1995), and Starship Troopers (1997) come to mind in varying degrees – O’Brien and his cast and crew go to some good lengths to make this desolate landscape all of their own.  The effects – while minimal – work on their own efficiency, giving the audience just enough to sell their inclusion while not being so intrusive as to draw unnecessary attention to themselves (the curse of the low-budget thriller).  Actor Dan Mor – in the lead as ‘Kye Cortland’ – handles the responsibilities of leading man here quite well, though I would’ve had his costuming and makeup handlers pay a bit closer attention to facial hair (as it goes through wildly different levels far too often).
 
Arrival’s chief failing is that – as the film wears on – it grows increasingly difficult to ascertain what it’s all about.
 
Now, most of that is owed to the ‘big twist’ O’Brien’s script conceals as long as is humanly possible.  Suffice it to say that not all is what it seems – not a huge surprise given that anyone watching closely should have been questioning some of the developments as they occurred – and the big twist isn’t quite handled logically, and it’s given far more clout than I felt it deserved.  Without spoiling it, let’s just agree that ‘time dilation’ and ‘time loops’ are two very different things, though they do seem to be used interchangeably in the last reel.  Things like ‘how did a man survive for three years without food and water’ don’t get the kind of narrative coverage they should’ve (even a small aside would’ve eased viewers into accepting this possibility) – and don’t even get me started on how his tight-fitting uniform could’ve held up after such a time.
​

Because logic was so openly ignored in this storytelling universe, I think audiences might’ve felt cheated out of what could’ve been an even leaner and meaner chapter in this grim tomorrow.  Occasionally, they’re obviously supposed to root for Kye, but – when all is said and done – they need to very clearly know why.  Why did we root for him?  What was it about him that made his efforts noble?  Why were we taken on this trip with him?  It doesn’t take a big budget to convince folks to stick with a hero (or antihero) on any journey, but when you give them (mostly) ideas alone to work with then let’s just agree that an exhaustive effort should be expended to demonstrate how all of what transpires makes perfect sense.  Sadly, it doesn’t – I’ve still no idea what this whole galaxy is fighting over, nor why all the prisoners looked incredibly well-fed, nor just how beings evolved in this alien ecosystem – and that eventually kills whatever forward motion Arrival musters.
 
Might I suggest: Alien Arrival is exactly the kind of project that should be picked up, dusted off, and tried again at some point.  In this era when damn near anything and everything is subject to a reboot, then I’d easily point at this as something worthy of a second go.  Let the dust settle.  Let some new clouds roll in.  There was enough good stuff in here to make it worthy, so let’s give it a makeover to make it worthwhile.
 
Alien Arrival (2016) was produced by Vertical Entertainment, TV1 General Entertainment, and GRLA.  DVD distribution (for this particular release) is being coordinated by the good people at Vertical Entertainment.  As for the technical specifications?  Though this one occasionally smacks of super-low budget filmmaking, I still found the bulk of it to contain some very good sights and sounds.  Yes, a few of the effects sequences are a bit undercooked, but they don’t distract from the experience on the whole.  Lastly, if you’re looking for special features, then prepare to be disappointed as there isn’t a single one on the disc of note.  A big miscalculation, if you ask me.
 
(Mildly) Recommended.
 
As a fan of obscure Science Fiction and Fantasy titles, I was excited to finally put Alien Arrival in the DVD player for a spin.  While the film has some pieces that are reasonably interesting as well as impressive, the whole is a somewhat horrifically uneven piece relying a bit too heavily on cleverly hidden twists to hold more narrative weight than they ultimately do.  That and the fact that O’Brien’s script flounders more than it swims makes this one occasionally feel like it’s wallowing in its own self-importance.  That’s a shame as it wastes an otherwise pretty interesting performance from Mor as the tortured soldier trying to figure out what exactly his circumstances might be.
 
In the interests of fairness, I’m pleased to disclose that I watched Alien Arrival (2016) from the Vertical Entertainment DVD release issued a few years back that I purchased on my own dime.

​-- EZ

It was sometime in the early 1980’s that a few buddies and I sat down to finally watch The Exorcist on VHS.  I couldn’t tell you exactly when it was.  We were all too young when the Horror/Classic was originally released in theaters to see it; and – seeing how this was an era when parents just didn’t take their kids to see things like that on the silver screen – we were a bit hungry to take in this film that had legendary status back in the day.  With popcorn and snacks, we huddled around the television set and popped in the tape; and – generally speaking – I recall all of us being a bit confused when finished as to why this flick in particular had stirred up so much controversy.
 
Honestly, we found it quite tame.
 
Yes, yes, yes: we enjoyed the film.  Apologies if that didn’t quite come across.
 
Still, what I think we suffered what that rare phenomenon that happens when one generation gets so scared silly from a motion picture that they idolize it to the next.  Rarely are legends embraced with the same love, reverence, and adoration by those who, say, didn’t quite live through the same era.  The kinds of scenes that kept our parents awake at night just rang a bit hollow for us, especially given the fact that we’d cut our cinematic teeth on less cerebral home video pursuits like Cannibal Holocaust (1980), Friday The 13th (1980), The Grim Reaper (1980), or The Texas Chain Saw Massacre (1974).
 
What scared us – as young, fertile minds – just wasn’t quite the same.  Such is life.
 
But I pledged to go back to The Exorcist at some point in my future, wanting to sit and digest it whole without the thrown popcorn and non sequiturs hurled as distractions around the room from my friends … and I’ve finally done it.  The picture screened recently on Turner Classic Movies, and I watched it in all its unabashed glory.  Now – with the benefit of wisdom – I took it in and wanted to sound off a bit on what still kinda/sorta got in my way of appreciating it as the landmark chiller so many claim it is.
 
(NOTE: The following review will contain minor spoilers necessary solely for the discussion of plot and/or characters.  If you’re the type of reader who prefers a review entirely spoiler-free, then I’d encourage you to skip down to the last few paragraphs for the final assessment.  If, however, you’re accepting of a few modest hints at ‘things to come,’ then read on …)
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From the film’s IMDB.com page citation:
“When a teenage girl is possessed by a mysterious entity, her mother seeks the help of two priests to save her daughter.”
 
Years back, a friend of mine suggested that the name for my inevitable biography should be “I Have Many Questions.”  I think that’s apt, as that’s largely been how my life has been!
 
As I’ve always tried to logically understand what I see in the wide, wide world around me, I’ve approached films much in the same way.  If something happens on the screen, then I believe it’s been captured for some specific reason.  Rarely does anything random take place – each successive piece should understandably add up to one more reveal of the puzzle – so I’m always ‘on the watch’ as characters are introduced, circumstances arise, and plots change.  I realize that – to some – this might be a bit extreme, but it is how I’m hardwired.
 
That said, there’s a good deal that takes place in director William Friedkin’s The Exorcist that kinda/sorta escapes my understanding.
 
For example, the picture opens with Father Merrin (played by the great Max Von Sydow) on an archaeological dig in Iraq.  We see him and these various crews going about their archaeological business of unearthing these hidden treasures and trinkets, and there’s an early suggestion that the team has uncovered something that they’ve been searching for.  We – the audience – are never clearly instructed as to what it or its significance might be – we’re shown what looks to be the pendant from a locket along with a small clay face – but that’s it.  Not all that long after this protracted introduction, Merrin is shown coming face-to-face with the statue of some lurking figure; and then the audience is whisked far away to Georgetown in the United States.
 
But because Merrin’s earliest moments aren’t given much clarity – he says practically nothing about what he’s found, nor does any of the other characters who fleetingly share the screen – I’m left wondering whether or not anything the man has accomplished in this far off land was of any meaningful consequence.  Granted, the pendant and the clayface do have some thematic ties to later in the story; I just wish and/or William Peter Blatty’s script could’ve given us some indication as to what truly mattered in this curious set-up.
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Alas, I was soon to learn that this open-ended approach to storytelling wasn’t The Exorcist’s exception to the rule but was ‘the rule’ itself.
 
In Georgetown, we’re introduced to Chris MacNeil (Ellen Burstyn), a celebrated actress who’s in town apparently only temporarily to shoot a major motion picture about … well … we’re never told.  She and her young daughter Regan (Linda Blair) take residence in a fabulously elegant home – complete with servants and a nanny (of sorts); when the mother isn’t on a film set, then she’s entertaining the Washington DC elite in cocktail parties at her house.  It’s into this cultured circle that Regan first exhibits her uncharacteristic and weird behavior, suggesting that not all is as rosy as it seems, that sets The Exorcist onto its dark path, but – for me – there’s a key component sorely missing from the story that caused my second break from the narrative.
 
Chief … just what is the source of Regan’s possession?
 
Friedkin’s film never definitely states where and how the young lady was introduced to this spectral entity, certainly not as to why and how it now exists in scenic Georgetown.  Why is it here?  Where did it come from?  How was it drawn to the girl?  Has this place always been haunted, or did the introduction of the Hollywood influential to the area have something to do with it?  The script makes a few suggestions – there’s something nefarious out and about in the attic (which only Chris can seemingly hear off and on), and Regan’s apparently made friends with something from the ‘other side’ that goes by the dubious name of ‘Captain Howdy’ via a Ouija Board found on the premises – but the particulars are always vague.
 
As I said above, I realize you – faithful reader – may make light of my shortcomings.  My only defense – frail though it may be – is that as one who does write fiction and non-fiction I assure you that those who dabble in spinning yarns put a good deal of thought into every decision made big and small.  Typically, nothing gets committed to print unless it has a succinct reason to be there; my stumbling here is that the pieces just don’t help bring the tale to light the way I believe they should, and that keeps me from enjoying it as much as you.
 
The introduction of Father Damien Karras (Jason Miller) is where – finally! – The Exorcist starts to make more sense to this old brain.
 
For those unaware of the details that you perhaps deem secondary and therefore trivial, let me shine a bit of light on what a character truly could, would, and should look like.  Karras is a man of faith who has taken to questioning his role not only in the church but in his life.  His ailing mother requires more and more attention – time he truly desires to give in return for her blessing him with life – and because of the road he finds himself walking he’s no longer convinced that he’s effectively serving himself, his peers, his world, and – the big one – his God.  He believes that there are others who can pull their weight more strongly than he can, so he’s even requested to be given a new assignment from his bosses, one that might put him back in the light of righteousness.  It’s only after he’s introduced to the MacNeil family – well after he’s wrestled with his own doubts regarding Regan’s condition – that he’s forced to see inevitably that faith is what you make of it.  In the big finish, he’s the only one able to make the ultimate sacrifice both for his God and his fellow man, and this leads finally to the redemption we see him searching for over the course of the picture.
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Because Karras – at least for me – truly is the central character of a film that otherwise weaves a bit nebulously from moment to moment, I’m left in the position of trying to ascertain why so much time gets spent elsewhere.  My conclusion might be a tad esoteric, but hey I’m the guy writing this and you’ve already this far so here goes.
 
The world of The Exorcist frowns culturally on how the artificial has become so important when trying to live a life with purpose.
 
Chris is an actress, and we spend time with her trying to balance time with Regan against that involving faux friends and our intellectual betters.  Once she’s served a wake-up call with her daughter’s possession, she delves into the world of science as doctor after doctor – specialist after specialist – concocts some cutting-edge diagnosis to explain Regan’s sudden descent into madness; and none of this leads to any resolution.  Eventually, Chris is left with not so much religion as the answer as it is faith … faith in something untested and unproven and unvalidated by those around her.  Similarly, faith is something Karras hasn’t so much lost as he repeatedly questions why he’s here when nothing he does seems to make any lasting difference.  In the end, he achieves his salvation when he comes face-to-face with the harsh reality that purposefulness may not be achieved ultimately to the race of man but instead might be found in saving a single life – Regan’s – when you are the only solution.
 
The Exorcist (1973) was produced by Warner Bros. and Hoya Productions.
 
Highly recommended.
 
Don’t think that I failed to enjoy The Exorcist, but – as the attraction that truly showed a generation of filmmakers and audiences what cinematic Horror’s true potential was – it’s definitely a film that deserves to be both preserved and celebrated as a groundbreaking achievement.  If you’ve read the above, then you might suspect I didn’t like it as much as I did … and you’d be wrong.  It’s an incredible experience, a daunting work of art that continues to resonate with those who find it.  As can happen, even incredible experiences might fall short of one’s expectations, and – like Father Karras – I tend to gravitate toward the gray areas more than I probably should.  I question my place in the audience.  I question what the filmmaker tried to tell me.  In the end, I’m left with a moral to the story that might be as imperfect as the way I’ve come to understand the wider picture, and here’s hoping I’m not cursed by any phantom spirit for the choice I’ve made.

​-- EZ