This may be a guilty pleasure, but I also think it inherited an unfair reputation, too. George Lucas wanted to produce a comic film noir. No matter how well it was done, it would never be a huge hit. His name proved cancerous to the movie, unintentionally promising universal appeal for what is really a niche movie. The critics took their best shots and Howard the Duck went down as one of the most famous flops in movie history.
There’s precious little to keep you interested in this hideous-looking and busily boring shit-fest of a film that is both a nadir for director Tim Burton’s creative trajectory and emblematic of everything wrong with Hollywood in the early 21st century. Much muchness? Indeed. Alice in Wonderland is the cinematic equivalent of a priapism.
A man is wrongly convicted and sentenced to a brutal chain gang in this gripping tragedy from Mervyn LeRoy (The Wizard of Oz). Paul Muni (Scarface, Life of Emile Zola) stars as the innocent prisoner who succeeds in a daring escape and becomes a well-respected member of society before the law catches up with him. State extradition laws offer him some sanctuary, but Muni is tricked into voluntarily returning to the labor camp with the hope of wiping his record clean. Once there, all hope of a promised pardon vanishes and he’s forced to plot his second deadly escape.
Errol Flynn and David Niven star as World War I pilots confronting the grimmest odds of survival in this exciting and moving remake of Howard Hawks’ 1930 original. With its wartime setting and nary a woman in the cast, The Dawn Patrol is another great bromance in the grand tradition of war stories — it’s all about camraderie, brotherhood and sacrifice.
I don’t normally like bad movies. I don’t usually subscribe to the “so bad, it’s good” mentality. Bad is just bad. But there are rare exceptions and Airport 1975 is one them. First of all, the Airport franchise is ridiculous. I mean, they made four of these things, and it’s the same story every time: a plane full of celebrities falls into jeopardy and needs a’savin’. This is the second in the series — and the most enjoyable. How could it not be? Check this shit out:
If you were making a movie based on a famous toy line and you had no choice but to cast Dolph Lundgren in the lead, you probably couldn’t do much better than Gary Goddard did with Masters of the Universe. The screenplay by David Odell (The Dark Crystal) transplants the action from He-Man’s homeworld to our own planet. I’m sure this was a cost-cutting measure more than anything else, but seeing these larger-than-life characters as fish out of water is probably one of the reasons this movie ends up cutting the mustard… barely.
Writer/director Miranda July also stars in this Cannes and Sundance Film Festival winner about people trying to connect with each other in an age when culture and technology make that connection more challenging. The film seems to be saying that we are all experiencing this difficulty, but July’s characters are so quirky and awkward that Me and You and Everyone We Know is as much an absurdist fairy tale as it is social commentary. Either way, it’s an interesting film full of bizarre relationships mined for greater truth than for exploitation. Take a six-year old boy’s on-line relationship with a mysterious woman who agrees to “poop back and forth” into each other forever. Or a grown man’s sexually explicit window signage for two teenaged girls that pass by his apartment every day. July doesn’t play these up for laughs, but instead takes them to realistic and surprising conclusions. When the teenaged girls become curious and knock on the man’s door, he hides in fear. And when the boy agrees to meet his sexting partner, the potential nightmare is revealed to be something sweet and tender.
