Wednesday, February 11, 2015

Trancers (1985), directed by Charles Band & Dollman (1991), directed by Albert Pyun

Originally written for the Tricycle Offense





I’d say that a significant amount of time has passed since my last Double Feature article, so how about a new one?


At several points during my musings on film I’ve brought up the idea of the auteur director, the concept of a director as the supreme creative force over a film. While this is true to an extent, and certainly it was auteurs like Spielberg, Lucas and Coppola that defined American cinema in the 70s, the idea that directors are always the most important voice in the room. Studio execs, producers, the guys with the money basically, have always had a say in what goes on when it comes to films (and everything else, really), for better or for worse.
It was on the word of Dino de Laurentiis that Alejandro Jodorowsky’s project for Dune, the most famous film never made was scrapped, its team sent to the winds and its concept eventually handed off to David Lynch to spread his spice all over it. It was on the word of a producer that the Wild Wild West is now infamous for its gigantic mechanical steampunk spider (which was originally going to be shoehorned into Kevin Smith’s ill-fated script for a Superman film). Obviously the word of the director is not absolute, and in plenty of cases a different point of view is great for the creative process (god knows Troy Duffy could’ve used it), it’s also true that people in the film industry of things are generally only interested in making money or inflating their own egos, and I know that can just as easily apply to the creative side of film just as it does the business side. I’m not against people wanting to make money, I wish I was making money right now myself, but my interests have always lied in the strange, the bizarre and the not necessarily lucrative, which typically places me on the side of the director. Too many interesting ideas have been homogenized to death in an attempt to make a buck for my tastes.


None of that really has anything to do with what I was trying to say, which is this: Much like record labels, comic companies and the like, movie studios can be a haven for the bizarre and the strange and not just the bureaucratic machine that congeals itself around art. Troma is perhaps the most famous example, home of The Toxic Avenger and such, where even the serious dramas (what little there are of them seem to be steeped in Z-list sleaze and ultraviolence. Old school studios like Hammer and Amicus also did the lion’s share of the work in reinventing and reinvigorating the horror movie genre in the 1950s and 60s, taking cues from the Universal monster movies of the the 30s and 40s. Despite being on the wrong side of a payday most of the time, these studios, much like Geffen, or Zap! Comix, have succeeded in establishing a distinctive ‘brand’ or style that other mainstream businesses lack. The average moviegoer probably couldn’t tell you what studio made what movie that’s released today, unless it’s a Marvel movie of course, but anyone with a passing movie knowledge can tell a Troma movie or a Hammer Horror film at a glance. You won’t see any Academy Awards floating their way, but you can’t deny their influence.
This time on the Double Feature I’ve decided to follow through on that reasoning and shine the spotlight on one of these alt-rock studios: Full Moon Features/Studios/Productions/Entertainment/Pictures, who just so happen to have a couple films on hulu at the moment, which kinda spurred this whole thing in the first place. Founded in 1989 and headed by persistent B-movie director Charles Band, FMF have produced a number of films in the schlocky B-movie horror and sci-fi genres, many of which have spun off into schlocky horror and sci-fi movie franchises. There’s Puppet Master (dedicated readers will know my connection with the original film) and its legions of sequels, which I think number in the dozens at this point. Killjoy, the adventures of the titular murderous clown. Subspecies, FMF’s required vampire series. The Gingerdead Man, which featured the voice of the infamous Gary Busey as the malevolent baked good,  and which eventually crossed over with The Evil Bong (true story). And of course The Demonic Toys, a ripoff of their own Puppet Master franchise, with an almost equal amount of subpar sequels. Hopefully the two films I’ve chosen this time around give us a sense of what they’re all about.


First up is…


Trancers (1985), directed by Charles Band


A holdover from Charles Band during his time in Empire, Trancers is one of the earliest FMF franchises, having spawned at least three sequels during its lifespan. Not to be confused with Scanners, which spawned two sequels of its own, none of which people actually remember but which can be found on hulu. Also not to be confused with trance, an electronica sub genre that got its start sometime in the 1990s. Did you know that Cronenberg's remake of The Fly also had a sequel, three years afterwards? Things are weird sometimes.
In the far flung dystopian future, in strange new land built near the sunken ruins of ‘Lost’ Angeles, Jack Deth (played by Tim Thomerson, and that is indeed his real name) is a grizzled, badass Trooper who plays by nobodies rules but his own, and who looks like Thomas Jane cosplaying at a Buckaroo Banzai convention. Deth has been a grizzled badass Trooper who plays by nobodies rules but his own ever since his wife was killed by Whistler (Michael Stefani), the most vile of villains in dystopian California. Due to some ill-explained bit of future science, Whistler has the ability to turn people of weak will into Trancers, mind controlled slaves to his will , which have proven to be an enormous issue in this beef-less, coffee-less new land. Mind controlled slaves in the Trancerverse seems to translate into ‘extras from Day of the Dead’ who evaporate into red light when they die’ by the way, which probably made sense to someone down the line but doesn’t in the actual film. Just an excuse to have ‘monsters’ without having to put too much work into it.
Jack Deth is a day into his early retirement (after a case gone sour, of course) when he is suddenly recruited back to the Troopers for a mission of grave importance. It turns out Whistler was not deceased, as had previously been assumed, but is instead...back in time! 300 years in fact, his spirit inhabiting the body of his ancestor, a prominent police chief who resided in the not-sunken city of Los Angeles. His plan: Murder the ancestors of the three members of the post-apocalyptic Californian government, thus wiping them out of existence and allowing his Trancer army to take over. It’s up to Jack to travel back to ancient Los Angeles, inhabiting the body of his ancestor Phil, and take care of Whistler and his Trancers once and for all. All the while having sex with Phil’s one-night stand Leena (Helen Hunt) of course, which is a bit of implied incestous romance worthy of a skit on Futurama. Doesn’t matter if it was 300 years ago, dude is basically fucking his grandma.
I’ll say this for Trancers: it had a lot of potential, even if it doesn’t reach it. When I saw the opening and I thought it was going to be some sort of Blade Runner neo-noir kind of thing, I was really into it. When it got into the main plot, and I thought it would be some kinda Terminator by way of Quantum Leap kind of thing, I was really into it. It’s not any of those things, and maybe the feeling of dissatisfaction is unwarranted, given the heights to which my imagination soared at the possibilities of the concept. It is a B-movie from the mid-80s after all, and expecting some sort of sci-fi masterpiece from the folks that made Puppet Master vs. The Demonic Toys and The Gingerdead Man is perhaps asking for too much. Not that it can’t be done, the 80s might’ve been the pinnacle of B-movies after all, but it’s not the case here.
Trancers is the kind of movie that falls apart if you look at it too hard, and in this case ‘hard’ means ‘a light breeze’. Why does Whistler having mind control powers make people into ‘yellow’ zombies (they constantly refer to Trancers as being yellow in color, but I can remember only one scene in which a Trancer actually have yellow coloration) and why do they disintegrate in red light. If Whistler’s mind is 300 years in the past, how is he still able to control a Trancer army in the future? If Whistler does eliminate the ancestors of these councilmen and they cease to exist, shouldn’t the folks in the future not remember them or why they’re sending Jack to the first place. Why doesn’t Whistler just take over the world in the past, since it’s proven in the film that he can control the police and politicians, which would affect the future in his favor much more easily and efficiently than his original plan? Why does the film gloss over the fact that Phil, Jack’s ancestor, is either ostensibly dead or trapped in a strange future due a plan he was never included in, in an unfamiliar body? When Jack’s superior arrives at Leena’s apartment in the body of a young girl (his nearest ancestor, and actually a decent bit of writing), he antidotes both of them back to the future almost immediately afterward. How the fuck does that girl get home? Are we to assume this kid lives just down the street in Chinatown, that there weren’t kidnappers or pederasts in L.A. in the 80s, and that finding her way home from wherever the fuck she was abducted from in nothing but her nightgown is no big deal with Trancer cops patrolling the streets? I could be accused of over thinking these kinds of things, it wouldn’t be the first time, but when you’re watching a movie like this your mind is naturally drawn to such questions. Gotta do something to distract yourself whenever they try to have awkward romantic scenes after all.
Trancers is a cheesy sci-fi-action flick with a somewhat interesting concept. That’s enough to form a cult following, and that following was apparently enough to wring three more movies out of the concept. I can certainly see the appeal, but as far as cheesy flicks go I’ve seen funnier and better executed movies than this. Still it’s kinda funny, so I’d say it’s worth a watch or a MST3K if you’re into that kind of thing. A solid C+, I’d say.


RESULT: RECOMMENDED




Dollman (1991), directed by Albert Pyun

It used to be in the days of film’s past that all you needed for a sci-fi/horror movie was a random animal and a bit of camera trickery. So much of the genre has been built upon people being attacked by things being larger than they should be (Them, The Deadly Mantis, Bert I. Gordon’s entire filmography), people being attacked by things that are small and originally thought harmless (Gremlins, Small Soldiers, Puppet Master), or people being reduced in size and attacked by things that are small (Fantastic Voyage, Honey I Shrunk the Kids) that it’s hard to say where sci-fi or the film industry would be without it. It’s so cheap to make these kinds of movies, just splice some B-roll of an iguana next to screaming girl and you got yourself a movie, that a studio can’t help but make a profit off of them, which in turn allows them to spend it on making more movies. We’ve ended up with a lot of crappy movies because of it, just look at the MST3K episode list for confirmation, but as long as making crappy movie A gives us a chance to do good movie B, I’d say that it’s an even trade.
Out of the three possibilities I’ve listed, it seems that the ‘shrinking person’ movie has been one that has been more or less forgotten over the years. Sure, we have giant monsters in movies all the time, Godzilla, Pacific Rim, Cloverfield, that one giant worm monster in Avengers, yet movies about tiny people seem to be a dying art in Hollywood these days. Perhaps Marvel’s upcoming Ant-Man movie and Arrow’s apparent inclusion of Ray Palmer, aka The Atom to the series will help return the idea of shrinking to the public consciousness, but for now it seems relegated to films of the of the past. Films like Full Moon Entertainment’s 1991 classic Dollman, which happens to be the second film of our FMF Double Feature.


Not to be confused with the DC superhero Doll Man, which I almost did. Although Dollman did get his own comic book back in the 90’s, which just confuses the matter.


10,000 light years from Earth on the futuristic planet of Arturos, where the lifeforms look human and speak perfect English for some reason, Brick Bardo (played by Trancers star Tim Thomerson) is a grizzled badass cop who plays by nobody’s rules but his own. A space-age Dirty Harry, quick with a witty one-liner and even quicker with his fancy future gun, Bardo has been a loose-cannon kind of guy ever since his family and about 35 other civilians were killed in a police action gone wrong. Apparently if you’re a cop in the Full Mooniverse, you’re better off staying single, it seems. Much smaller body count, and you’re pretty much assured to get a hot piece of tail at some point. Especially if you’re Tim Thomerson.
While in pursuit of his arch-nemesis Sprug (what he lacks in a body below his neck he makes up for in planet-destroying fusion bombs), Brick hits the ‘energy band’ and is transported across the universe, crash landing in the then present-day South Bronx. Unfortunately for Brick his ship is broken, leaving him stranded on a similar-yet-alien world, forcing him to rely on the kindness of single mother Debbie (Kamala Lopez, no relation to the Ugandan Giant) for shelter. Also unfortunately for Brick, Sprug and the fusion bomb are still intact and under the protection of Braxton (Jackie Earle Haley in an early role, probably the biggest actor to ever be in an FMF movie), leader of the deadly South Bronx street gang. It’s up to Brick Bardo and his fancy future gun to stop Sprug once and for all, recover/disarm the fusion bomb, and take out Braxton and his gang, thus solving the problems endemic in the inner-city once and for all. Shouldn’t be too hard, right?


Oh, also he’s 13 inches tall now, for some reason. Hence the name.


Despite involving alien planets and tiny men, it feels like Dollman isn’t trying to reach quite as far as Trancers was, and in so doing manages to be a lot less stupid and a lot more palatable as a film. Still incredibly simplistic of course, in fact it’s even more of a one-note film than Trancers was, for better or worse. Brick Bardo is pretty much the exact same character as Jack Deth, right down to the deceased love ones, except with even less character depth. Braxton and his gang are the stereotypical early 90’s style street gang, cartoonishly evil that shoot liquor store owners without actually stealing anything and try to burn people alive for shits and giggles. Braxton has a bit of charm to him, possibly the talent of Haley shining through, but otherwise he’s a low-rent Clarence Boddicker. Debbie is...well, Debbie is the female lead, and I found it hard to give a shit about her. Not because I didn’t sympathize with her plight, since I’m the result of a single-parent household in a poor/shitty area,  but because even though she had a large chunk of screentime I couldn’t give a shit about her character. The discount mayonnaise to Bardo’s plain white bread, if you will.  
Also worth bringing up is the criminal lack of tiny shenanigans in this film. The movie is called Dollman for christ’s sake, the main character is barely a foot long, but you never get a sense that he’s actually that size. Sure, you have kids gawk at him, he hangs from a car window once, but never once is the illusion of size ever achieved in my opinion. Where’s Bardo trying to make his way across a gigantic room, or fighting off rats with a fork, or riding to the rescue on a housecat that he made a tiny saddle for? I know they are budget constraints, but if you’re going down the well-trod road of Lilliput and Brobdingnag then there needs to be some sort of payoff in that regard. With the way this film is edited and the explosive power of Bardo’s gun, there isn’t that much difference between ‘Brick Bardo: Dollman’ and ‘Brick Bardo: Jump-cut Man’. What’s the damn point of watching a man called fucking Dollman if he’s barely a stranger in a strange land? At least Jack Deth is confused by stuff when he travels back to the past; Brick Bardo seems barely inconvenienced to be stranded on a world of giants. Don’t make a movie about a tiny protagonist if you aren’t going to have tiny shenanigans Full Moon Entertainment. Otherwise it’s just embarrassing.
So neither Dollman or Trancers are going to be threatening Citizen Kane on any ‘greatest movie of all time’ list, but both movies had an interesting premise and in my opinion had the potential to be better than they were with a bit of retooling and reworking. As far as viewing experiences go I suppose I’d recommend Trancers, going by the ‘stupid=entertaining’ school of thought, but as for what I thought worked better as a film and what I thought could be taken in more interesting directions, I’d probably go with Dollman. It’s kinda simple and kinda stupid, but I think that makes it a sort of tabula rasa type scenario, where something great could spring from a basic foundation. Much like Alan Moore with Marvelman or Grant Morrison’s Animal Man, to give really obvious examples. I’m not saying I’m the guy who could take Dollman (or Trancers, by the way)  to new heights of drama, making it the cult phenomenon it was always meant to be, but if Full Moon Features would be willing to send me some cash to find out, I wouldn’t be against it.


Hint hint, Mr. Band.

RESULT: RECOMMENDED

Monday, February 9, 2015

Some more news

I've been doing some retrospective write ups on the films I've already done here for the Tricycle Offense. Basically just rewatching my backlog and giving new thoughts and such. Those will be exclusive to the T.O. for the time being; might update the entries here later. So if you're interested in that shit, check it out.

New article coming up in the new future.

Monday, February 2, 2015

The War of the Worlds (1953), directed by Byron Haskin


and
Or, The Martians Crave Our Delicious Hamburger Sandwiches


     I’ve already talked in spades about the influential figures in my life when it comes to comic books, Grant Morrison, Alan Moore etc., but let’s spend a paragraph or two talking about some non-graphic novelists who I enjoyed in my youth. Way back in the day, when the Syfy Channel was still Sci-Fi and internet pornography was an as-yet inexact science I was an avid reader of books (physical copies of ebooks printed onto sheets of paper, for you younger readers out there), and when it wasn’t Harry Potter or Animorphs, it was classical literature. Dumas, Cervantes, Verne, Doyle, from the Elizabethan to the Victorian I took my fill of the best that the written word had to offer. I couldn’t say for sure what it was that inspired such a consuming interest, whether it was the act of a (so-called) intelligent child searching for reading material beyond the level of his peers or a fascination with the ill-fated League of Extraordinary Gentlemen film and the far, far better comic original, but if it was old it was interesting to me. Which helps to explain my choice in movies as well.

     Of all the old-timey wordsmiths in history however, the one that stuck with me the most was undoubtedly H.G. Wells. Jules Verne was pretty good, especially if you were a fan of people traveling to various places in exotic vehicles, but it was Wells, oft-regarded as one of the earliest ‘science fiction’ writers, that really dug its claws into the imaginative portion of my mind. There’s just something about that turn-of-the-century fiction that I’ve always loved, when science was still a work-in-progress and there was a sense of wonder and discovery in the air, or at least that’s how it reads after the fact when folks aren’t dying of tuberculosis. “The Time Machine”, “The Island of Doctor Moreau”, ‘The Invisible Man”, stories that have managed to survive the test of time to be endlessly repackaged by studio executives looking to profit from a dead man’s work. No wonder poor people turn into lemurs in the future.

     Out of all the stories by Mr. Wells, there is one that affected me as much as it affected pop culture at large: The War of the Worlds. The premier alien invasion story, a concept that has been repeated endlessly throughout the 20th and 21st century, which itself has been revisited numerous times over the years. There was the infamous radio broadcast by Orson Welles in the 30s, which caused far less mass hysteria than we like to pretend it did, likely because no one in New Jersey would’ve been able to tell the difference. There was a subpar film by the great Steven Spielberg in 2005, starring a Tom Cruise not yet ostracized from society and a Dakota Fanning not quite old enough to be forgotten, which you might (not) remember being parodied in one of those shitty Scary Movie sequels. There was a TV series that ran 2 seasons in 1988, which was a continuation of our subject today. There was a D-list movie released the same year as the Spielberg film, which spawned an equally D-list sequel three years later. There was even a War of the Worlds musical produced for the stage that played throughout London, which despite being about murderous alien death machine probably had a smaller body count than that Spider-Man show on Broadway (#topicalreference). We won’t be talking about those things today though, obviously since I’ve already listed in an off-handed and casual manner. Instead, we’ll take a look at what is probably the second most famous take on The War of the Worlds, the 1953 film adaptation directed by Byron Haskin and released through Paramount. Whether these aliens are a thinly-veiled metaphor of the Communist menace or not is up to you to decide.

     The plot of The War of the Worlds is literally over a century old at this point, so you’ll have to forgive me if I spoil some things plotwise. Basically, it turns out that there is life on other planets (specifically Mars), and the lifeforms on that planet are jealous of the temperate climate and the fine-ass hoes that we have here on Earth. So in typical human fashion they decide to invade our planet, first appearing in a small town but quickly spreading throughout the rest of the world. Aforementioned militaries of the world attempt to curtail the extra-terrestrial attacks to no avail, and just when it seems that humanity is destined to be a footnote in the pages of history, the Martians are killed by what is essentially a deus ex machina. Apparently Martians were smart enough to master space travel and enormous war machines but just forget to get their booster shots before making the trip. I mean Great Britain didn’t even figure out typhoid wasn’t caused by farts until a decade or so prior, but the highly advanced alien race couldn’t put two and two together? But of course internet critics didn’t exist back then, so these sorts of things get a pass.

     For now…

     The 53’ Paramount adaptation, as you might expect from a film adaptation, keeps the basic framework of the original idea but makes a substantial amount of changes. The setting is changed, taking place in Smalltown California, USA in the early 1950s rather than Tinyton Glen, Great Britain in the late 1900s. The iconic ‘tripods’ in the original story are replaced with sleek silver flying machines (which have become iconic in their own right), and the black smoke and red weed of the tripods are replaced with generic laser beams and force fields. Most substantial of all perhaps is the addition of a protagonist and leading lady, for that romantic subplot that all films are required to have and such, rather than the ‘lone survivor’ angle that the story went for. Ann Robinson plays Sylvia van Buren, who is supposedly very intelligent but does nothing but look attractive and scream, as is the nature of female characters in sci-fi, and Gene Barry plays Dr. Clayton Forrester (absolutely mind-blowing to a MST3K fan like me), the the consistently unflappable scientist at Pacific Tech who just so happens to be near ground zero at the start of the whole deal. Retro TV fans will know Gene Barry for his role as the pimp of the Old West, Bat Masterson, from the show of the same name. Give Clayton a derby and a cane and there wouldn’t be any difference, which is either a knock against Mr. Barry’s dramatic range or a testament to his Colt .45 levels of badassery.

     I’m finding it a bit difficult to rip into The War of the Worlds, because at the end of the day it is a sci-fi movie made in the 50s, and so was limited as all genre films generally were during that time. But I can certainly list a few issues. As much as I love Gene Barry, Clayton Forrester isn’t so much a protagonist as he is a guy the camera focuses on a lot of the time, and even then he occasionally gets lost in the shuffle. Sylvia is a women in the 50s, and so isn’t allowed to do anything or develop a real personality, thus making the romance between her and Forrester feel as hollow as most 1950’s marriages. The Martians just look stupid as hell, limitations of costuming in that era be damned, and I feel like the film would have benefited from showing as little of their physical form as possible. Nothing that comes about due to their appearance is really vital to the plot in my opinion, beyond acting as a cheap scare after an already suspenseful scene, and it could just as easily have been excised or altered with no dip in quality. There’s nothing scarier than what spawns our own imagination, after all. Also, not quite sure what the God deal is going on with this movie, as if Bruce Almighty ‘saved’ mankind because bacteria killed the Martians. Pretty sure if a Human-loving deity of a Christian persuasion really existed or cared, he probably wouldn’t have let a priest get flash-fried in the first half of the movie. Or let a enormous amount of Earth’s population die, have their homes and property destroyed and descend into mass hysteria. Or at least let those deadly bacteria that he created kill off the Martians before they almost destroyed the planet. As I said at the beginning though, this is a sci-fi flick from the 50’s, and science fiction in film was a much slower beast in terms of experimentation and philosophical exploration as it was in literature. Rubber suits and screaming girls were what sold the tickets back then, and that’s what we got.

     Plot problems, characterization problems and thematic problems aside, there is one area where The War of the Worlds excels: special effects. Much like fellow sci-fi classic The Blob, which also involves an alien creature falling to Earth in Smalltown USA by the way, WotW is practically bursting with bright lights and color, and you persistent readers know how much I love generous helpings of color in movies. Every scene that features the alien ships fucking up the landscape, blasting everything to hell with their multi-colored death beams, engenders a visceral, childlike joy in destruction that you only ever get when a Godzilla movie is doing things right. While I generally tend to prefer the tripod designs for the Martian war machines, I have to admit that that flying machines used here; sleek, near featureless silver aircrafts with their tri-colored electronic eyes slowly drifting over the ruins of civilization, have their own appeal, and I think they’ve got the potential to become one of my favorite spacecraft designs.They quickly and firmly establish the inhumanity of the alien threat right from the outset, cold, inscrutable, much more so than the actual Martians do. It looks like either the T-1000 eating the head of ED-209 or a Yes album cover, in a good way.

     If you’re interested in getting into old school sci-fi, The War of the Worlds should be right up on the top of your list, along with The Day the Earth Stood Still, The Blob, and The Thing From Another World. They can be cheesy and the stories can be a bit spotty (which isn’t really restricted to sci-fi films of that era, is it Mr. Emmerich?) but it accomplishes exactly what good science fiction is meant to do: It inspires the imagination, gives light to new ideas and new ways of looking at things, that you might create something as strange and exciting in the future. Maybe it doesn’t succeed as well as H.G. Wells did in 1897, but as far as film adaptations go it’s manages to stand on its own two feet, which is more than you can say for I Am Legend. Worth a watch.

RESULT: RECOMMENDED

Movie Movie (1978), directed by Stanley Donen

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