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Richard Doyle's
MOVIE MADNESS
The Architecture of Doom (Peter Cohen, 1989)
An intriguing and frequently absorbing documentary that
explores Nazism as an aesthetic movement. The film posits that Hitler's
interest in art and architecture, especially the classical style, fueled
his obsessions with purity, cleanliness, and the medical profession, eventually
leading to the Holocaust. While overly long (some of the seemingly endless
parades of banal Nazi approved art could have been cut or at least shortened),
it offers a fairly original perspective of Nazism as a movement that attempted
to impose aesthetic ideals on the world through the use of institutionalized
violence.
Buck
Privates Come Home (Charles Barton, 1947)
I really dislike Abbott & Costello, so heaven knows why I
keep subjecting myself to them. The best I can say is that if you like
their brand of mugging slapstick, with punch lines visible from miles
away, this one seems less offensive than some of their later films.
Blood:
The Last Vampire (Hiroyuki Kitakubo, 2000)
A stunning mix of 2D and 3D animation combines with an extremely
underdeveloped story to create a film that's really only of interest to
animation fans. A young girl, the last true vampire, teams up with government
agents to destroy a trio of blood-sucking demons on a US army base in
Japan during the late 60s. The plot details are inadequately explained
and the main characters never really developed, but the atmosphere is
wonderful, and the violent action sequences are nicely executed. A pleasing
diversion.
Cannibal: The Musical
(Trey Parker, 1996)
This
frontier gore musical is the first feature from "South Park"
creators Matt Stone (who co-stars and produces) and Parker (who besides
directing, produced, wrote, starred in, and composed the score). It's
loosely based on the true story of Alferd Packer, the only man ever convicted
of cannibalism in the US. It's somewhere between a parody of Rodgers &
Hammerstein musicals and Peter Jackson's early gore comedies. Although
the humour is far from consistent, ranging from some really clever jokes
(a tribe of Japanese "Indians") to silly fart jokes, and the
film is too long, it has a certain goofy charm that is conspicuously absent
from Stone and Parker's later projects. The songs are wonderful, in particular
a lavish production number about "hanging the bastard."
The
Silence of the Lambs
(Jonathan Demme, 1992)
Demme draws on his exploitation film background to weave
a startling blend of Hollywood craftsmanship and B horror shocks. Anthony
Hopkins turns in one of his best performances as the serenely inhuman
Hannibal Lector, and Jodie Foster convincingly portrays the vulnerable
yet resilient Clarice Starling. Demme yields shocking imagery from seemingly
innocuous props like night-vision goggles and a self-storage container.
B-movie references abound, from Russ Meyer alumni Charles Napier being
disembowelled and hung Christ-like from a cell, to cameos by Roger Corman
and George Romero. Most impressively, Demme incorporates the atmosphere
and elements from such exploitation horrors as Deranged and The
Texas Chain Saw Massacre in an A film, and the results were palatable
to mainstream critics and fans - and even the Academy.
Across 110th Street (Barry
Shear, 1972)
Thieves rob the Mafia, killing three mobsters and two cops
in the process. They are pursued by cops Anthony Quinn and Yaphet Kotto
and by mobsters led by Anthony Franciosa. Although the film is gritty,
violent and crude, it entertains, due to a good cast and some exciting
action sequences, especially the initial robbery and a final shoot-out.
The film raises racial issues, but mostly in typical one-dimensional,
Blaxploitation fashion. Antonio Vargas appears as one of the robbers,
and Burt Young has an early role as one of the mobsters killed in the
robbery. The title song by Bobby Womack was recently heard in Quentin
Tarantino's Jackie Brown.
Thief
(Michael Mann, 1981)
Mann's first theatrical feature is extremely stylish. James
Caan stars as Frank, a professional thief whose success attracts the attention
of local mob boss Leo (Robert Prosky). Leo offers Frank a sponsorship
deal that infringes upon Frank's desire to be a loner, but will allow
him to achieve his dream retirement plan much sooner. Frank goes along
with it, but when the deal sours, he is forced to decide which is more
important to him, his independence or his new family life. The film blends
gritty dialogue, realistic technical details (actual safe-crackers acted
as technical consultants), and Mann's neon-drenched visual style (which
seems to have been toned down in his later works) resulting in a near
hypnotic film experience. Tangerine Dream's pulsing electronic score adds
greatly to the film's effect. Caan turns in his best starring performance
to date, and Tuesday Weld, Jim Belushi, and Willie Nelson provide excellent
supporting performances.
©2002 Richard Doyle
CineScene
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