Interview with the Vampire (1994)

Director: Neil Jordan

Cast: Tom Cruise, Brad Pitt, Antonio Banderas, Kirsten Dunst

Have I Seen it Before: Sure. My main memory is “Sympathy for the Devil” playing over the film’s last few minutes, which seems like a weird tonal choice. One wonders if several years later it will rise above that memory. I recently read the book, and I found it to be far too mired in an unrelentingly unhealthy fixation with Claudia (Dunst).

Did I Like It: I still think the final needle-drop is a weird tone shift for the movie. It reeks of something added in reshoots at the behest of a studio executive that felt if the movie had to end on a down note, it at least needed one more jump scare to get people out on an adrenaline high. It doesn’t really make sense that Lestat (Cruise, back when he could reasonably be expected to share leading-man status with anyone else in a film) is there in San Francisco, back to something resembling full strength after spending that much time enfeebled by his last encounter with Claudia.

And yet, I did enjoy the movie if I take those last few minutes out of the equation. I’ll admit that I found the novel to be a terrible slog, more interested in navel gazing than in moving along with themes or plot, but Jordan and company have wisely moved things along at a brisk enough pace. I was especially moved by the notion that this is—if even briefly—a movie briefly very in love with movies. Louis finds he does miss the sunlight, and eventually finds as motion pictures develop that he can get that back by taking in a late screening. The characters of Rice’s novel are unconcerned with finding comfort in books, so it was a delight to have a moment where form and theme become one. Honestly, if it was clear that I could still enjoy movies as they are released for the years to come, I might be able to get on board with the whole immortality thing.

Evil Dead Rise (2023)

Director: Lee Cronin

Cast: Lily Sullivan, Alyssa Sutherland, Morgan Davies, Gabrielle Echols

Have I Seen it Before: Nope.

Did I Like It: Yes, I really did. However, there is likely to be a confession at the end of this review, so watch out.

This fifth film in the house that Sam Raimi built does something that most horror sequels don’t even try to do. It absolutely does not concern itself—not one bit so far as I could tell—with slavish devotion to the canon which proceeded it. This is not to say that the film avoids those trappings entirely, but even David Gordon Greene’s Halloween trilogy used what happened before to fuel its madness, here one could go in blind about Deads Evil or otherwise and have a the same visceral (take that word to mean any possible definition) reaction.

And that reaction is likely to be made in spades. Sutherland makes for a sympathetic victim before instantly becoming one of the most unnerving villains in recent horror memory. You’ve seen the bathtub sequence, if you’ve seen the trailers, and it delivers, but once you start seeing things through a peephole, you know there is a level of craft on display here that isn’t often seen in any film, regardless of genre.

And yet…

Look, I’m reasonably sure that its not the film’s fault, but I’m entirely certain that I fell asleep for the last few minutes. Given the nihilistic chaos on display here, that probably says more about me than it does the film itself. I’ve looked at synopses since, and I’m relatively sure I maybe missed about 2-3 minutes in the third act, but there’s definitely a gap in my memory. Maybe I was abducted by aliens briefly just as the film is deciding to justify its opening scenes.

But really, I think it’s more of a byproduct of the chairs at Cinergy Theaters. Reclining is fine. But these numbers have seat warmers to boot, and sink into the ground as you recline. The sunken place is real, folks. Jordan Peele tried to warn us.

Shield for Murder (1954)

Director: Edmond O’Brien, Howard W. Koch

Cast: Edmond O’Brien, Marla English, John Agar, Emile Meyer

Have I Seen it Before: Never. Once again, I showed up at Circle Cinema’s Noir Night prepared for whatever film they were willing to show me, and having a pretty good time doing it.

Did I Like It: Dare I say I had a great time with this movie? I won’t even tie it to some inside information I heard about Circle’s repertory schedule in the months to come, which instantly became the best new I had heard all year. This movie was a genuine—if at times possibly unintentional—delight.

Some of it had to be intentional, right? The main character wouldn’t tell another character to go home for the night by saying, “Go home and beat your wife” in as serious a tone as the movies are likely to have ver recorded and not be in on the joke, right?

Honestly, the least self-conscious laugh that the audience and I had throughout the evening was when an APB was put out for Nolan (O’Brien) and is described as a 36-year-old caucasian.  Now, I’ve always appeared old for my age, but there was something so preposterous about a man like O’Brien—who appeared to look like my grandfather for all of his life—somehow being younger than me.

And I could only take heart in the fact that everybody else was on my side with that one.

Otherwise I would have to confront the fact that maybe I need to be a little more hard boiled and world weary in my life. I thought that I was doing fine on all of those fronts, but in a bolder age run by a far greater generation, I realize it’s just one more thing about which this elder millennial isn’t quite accomplishing in the proper timeframe.

Nah. Apparently I just look young for my age. Sorry, O’Brien.

Also, I know Stafford Repp (Chief Miles O’Hara, for those of you not as steeped in the ins and outs of 1966 Batman as I) was in this, but apparently he goes uncredited. He was that generation’s Reginald Val Johnson, apparently, and I think he deserves quite a bit more credit.

The Abyss (1989)

Director: James Cameron

Cast: Ed Harris, Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio, Michael Biehn, Leo Burmester

Have I Seen it Before: Huh. Weird question. Maybe? I can’t imagine I spent all of this time avoiding the film, but I really don’t have much memory for it.

Did I Like It: And why is that? Under one possibility, over thirty-plus years the film on spec never ensnared enough of my imagination to finally make a point to watch it*. Or did I see it, and it just didn’t make enough of an impact to get into any kind of regular re-watch cycle.

While Cameron’s skill with pacing is unassailable, I think there might be two things holding him back here.

First, while I enjoy an Alan Silvestri score just as much as the next guy, he seems to be doing merely perfunctory work here. Or, at the very least, Cameron is more naturally in sync with someone like Brad Fiedel, James Horner, or someone who has worked very hard to bring a James Horner quality to a James Horner-less world.

Finally, the special effects age not so well. The floating column of water now looks like not much more than cheap CGI, because it is. I’m tempted to eschew that criticism as unfair. Judging an entire movie by the aging of its special effects is a great way to stop enjoying a lot of films, but it feels like the entirety of the movie is incidental to proving the concept of the CGI creature. It didn’t work unassailably well ten years later for George Lucas and Star Wars — Episode I: The Phantom Menace (1999).

*Although to be fair, Cameron is being unusually stingy with options to watch not only this, but most of his catalog. Whispers on the internet point to a 4K re-release being nigh, but there’s such a sellers market on physical media at the moment (derogatory), that I’ll believe it when I see it.

Renfield (2023)

Director: Chris McKay

Cast: Nicholas Hoult, Nicolas Cage, Awkwafina, Ben Schwartz

Have I Seen it Before: Well, sure. Scenes of it have been pulled directly out of Tod Browning’s Dracula (1931), and Lammle knows I’ve see that one plenty of times.

Did I Like It: And that’s one of the points where I’m a bit stuck on the film. The original Dracula is a tragically… and it really pains me to say this… boring film. It’s not its fault, it;s barely a sound film, so can’t rise too far above a recorded stage performance. You can read all about my thoughts of that film in the review for it, but as charmed as I am by inserting Hoult and Cage into the scenes from that film, it is another example of a film lionized beyond what it had earned on its own merits.

The film’s other flaws to tend to be its most memorable parts, unfortunately. There are a number of pleasantly diverting jokes throughout, but as I type this, I am having pronounced difficulty coming up with any that weren’t already in the trailers you’ve already seen. Worse yet, those gags are about the only thing propping up. an organized crime subplot that exists only to make sure that the film fills a feature-length runtime.

And yet, there are a few things to make this a moderately worthy weekend diversion. Cage is having so much fun chewing—often literally—the scenery that it becomes even more of an unfortunate tragedy that he never ended up playing a Batman villain, and that the mere prospect of him playing Superman was doomed to fail before it ever began. Beyond that, the makeup work on Dracula himself is genuinely fun, taking him from an injured animal all the way through to his “full power” as it were.

Singin’ in the Rain (1952)

Director: Stanley Donen, Gene Kelly

Cast: Gene Kelly, Donald O’Connor, Debbie Reynolds, Jean Hagen

Have I Seen it Before: Never.

Did I Like It: And that’s the thing that’s more than a little unnerving to me, because I loved this a very great deal. Maybe I’ve always been just slightly allergic to the big technicolor musicals, because I—despite all of my bluster to be one of those quintessential movie fanatics—am fundamentally an idiot.

The film is a bubbly journey through the transition from silent to synchronized sound, and makes it an exciting new adventure for the characters involved, not the insurmountable collision with obsolescence that it was for pretty much everybody other than Charlie Chaplin. Every character draws a guileless laugh from me. Every song—not just the one that got completely coopted by A Clockwork Orange (1971)—I found myself humming as I left the screening, and am still doing so as I type this review nearly a week later.

I should have been spending decades loving this movie and bothering everyone around me about how great it is. What else have I been missing? It boggles the mind, but I don’t feel shamed by the realization that I’ve been missing out. At worst, I feel sorry for the rash of people on social media as of late who bemoan what they see as movie snobbery, for they may never get to stumble across a movie that elicits this kind of response. It’s more a feeling of excitement that the very realization that this movie exists implies that there are any number of movies that have existing long before I was ever born and are just sitting there waiting for me to discover them.

I’m quietly, but insistently thrilled that I have so much more to see and experience. Good morning, indeed.

The Gold Rush (1925)

Director: Charlie Chaplin,

Cast: Charlie Chaplin, Georgia Hale, Mack Swain, Tom Murray

Have I Seen it Before: Oh, sure.

Did I Like It: Once again I’m stuck as I try to review a film featured as a retrospective exhibition with a complete inability to review a film itself, but the need to review the experience of watching it. While this film certainly is mired in the Chaplin’s early impulse to make features with only the loosest of narrative threads, so that it can be a showcase of several short subjects. But between the dance of the dinner rolls and the deliciously demented expression on Mack Swain’s face when he sees the chicken, the film will be viewed and heralded not only long after Chaplin has passed away, but probably long after I am dead, too.

But I had something of a revelation while seeing this film again during one of Circle Cinema’s Second Silent Saturdays. In previous screenings, any reminder that I am relegated to live in the 21st century would eliminate the illusion of the organist that I might actually be taking in this movie in the 1920s. It really annoyed the crap out of me. During this screening, things were going pretty well, but there was a need of several people to comment on what was taking place on the screen.

A typical exchange, in a scene where Big Jim McKay takes a swig of whisky when they return to their cabin in the film’s later scenes:

“What is that?” said Audience Member #1.

“Oh, it’s whiskey,” says their companion. We’ll call them Audience Member #2.

“Well, how did they get that?”

I might have been irritated that they were ruining the movie for everyone—forget the fact that the film’s 1942 re-release has Chaplin providing narration throughout—and being a perfect example of everything that is wrong with film audiences of this stupid, stupid 21st century.

But then I realized in all likelihood there were absolute clods filling movie theaters 100 years ago as well that had to bring some sense to what they were watching and didn’t care who heard it.

So, thanks. Thanks for keeping up the illusion.

Rambo III (1988)

Director: Peter MacDonald

Cast: Sylvester Stallone, Richard Crenna, Kurtwood Smith, Marc de Jonge

Have I Seen it Before: Oh, sure.

Did I Like It: There’s a weird irony here that the politics of this film are the ones that almost play out like a joke. I’d bet at least some amount of money that when things came to pass—and the Carolco bankruptcy and intellectual properties were all sorted out—on a fourth Rambo movie, there was at least some talk about the story for that film involving the friends and allies Rambo makes in this film suddenly becoming the villains. That movie would have been terrible, but it’s a reality I can’t quite avoid as this one unfurls. That and the fact that The Living Daylights (1987) covered a lot of the same ground and feels like a far less perfunctory entry in its respective series.

And it’s that perfunctory quality which brings me the most down on the whole thing. This could have—and let’s face it, is—an action story that could be filled by any other icon of the 80s. John McClane could have fought with the Mujahideen (and it wouldn’t have been all that different than the later films in that series). I’d have to double check (I’m not going to), but its entirely possible there is a Jack Ryan story set entirely in Afghanistan during the Soviet occupation. Any Chuck Norris/Jean-Claude Van Damme/Dolph Lundgren movie could have wound up there. It might have been a challenge to jam Conan the Barbarian, but an industrious (or profoundly lazy, take your pick) screenwriter could have gotten the job done. First Blood (1982) and—for better or worse—Rambo: First Blood Part II (1985), and even the later stories are stories suited especially for him. This ain’t that.

But do you want to know what really struck me about the whole affair. We have no way to ask the man, but I get the distinct impression that Jerry Goldsmith was at best ambivalent about his contributions to Rambo-ology. There are several cues in this score which sound like they were pulled from a soundtrack to a Friday the 13th movie. At first, I thought I was only hearing it during scenes focusing on the occupying Soviets, but I know I heard it in one scene that focused on Rambo and Rambo alone wreaking his particular brand of destruction. It’s not a bad hit on the character, comparing him with a mindless, unkillable killer, but one wonders if Stallone even noticed the comparison.

Hollow Triumph (1948)

Director: Steve Sekely

Cast: Paul Henreid, Joan Bennett, Leslie Brooks, Eduard Franz

Have I Seen it Before: Never. Oddly enough, it was programmed as a surprise movie during Circle Cinema’s Noir Nights.

Did I Like It: It’s never the best idea to hinge a movie review on a comparison to another movie, even if the temptation is omnipresent. Comparing Alien (1979) with Aliens (1986) ought to be forgiven, to say nothing of using both films to illustrate just how objectively disappointing any other film featuring a Xenomorph proves to be*.

So, comparing this to Wicked Woman (1953) feels unfair. They’re completely unrelated, other than the fact that they make up the first two entries in this retrospective series. Wicked Woman was projected in 35mm, and on that front alone, the other film was an unusual treat, and experiencing this film is so much like every other film in the current age, just watching television on a slightly larger screen.

On the other hand, this is the far more assured and confident story. It unfolds with just enough pulpy nonsense to keep things lively, but most importantly all of the characters come to a—dark, grim—ending. It felt like a real, honest-to-god movie, and not a TV pilot that was a very appropriate pass from the network.

But what I would really like to talk about is a bit of movie theater comportment. I’d like to not be a stickler about these things, but there was a moment where I felt as if I was just immersed enough in the experience to believe I was in 1948 seeing the movie during its first run (digital vs 35mm not withstanding). And then some jerk’s cell phone went off. Illusion ruined. Seriously, folks. Silence your phones in the theater, but may God help you if you don’t silence your phone during retro screenings.

*When I started the review of this deep cut Noir film produced by one of the co-stars of Casablanca (1942), I did not think there would be quite so many references to xenomorphs, We’re here, though, and I think we probably better get used to it.

Cat People (1982)

Director: Paul Schrader

Cast: Natassja Kinski, Malcolm McDowell, John Heard, Annette O’Toole

Have I Seen it Before: Never. I did see the original 1942 version of the film several times after recording it off of a late night airing on Turner Classic Movies, just because that’s the kind of guy I am.

I’d love to re-watch that film again. Or any other movie after all of that.

Did I Like It: No. Good God, no.

My first inclination is to not kink shame, but I really want to throw some shade Paul Schrader’s way.

I suppose there’s something akin to effective horror found in an experience that makes me feel perpetually nauseated, but that’s only barely what this movie is about. Nearly every frame of film in which Kinski appears is meant to arouse*, but if I feel—doubly so when she shares a scene with McDowell—ill in all of those instances. It misses its intended mark so completely, I’m also not entirely fathoming why a filmmaker would aim for such a target with their film, especially in what is seemingly a mainstream entertainment. Under no circumstances do I ever want to meet or have a conversation with a person who would find that interesting, or even be less perplexed about the rationale than I am. At any rate, the forthcoming Beyond the Cabin in the Woods episode on the film will be interesting**.

Also, I’m having a significant, dare I say thorough, problem imagining any sort of fictional world where men view 1980s Annette O’Toole as some sort of presence to be barely tolerated.

No kink shame, though.

*Was John Heard supposed to be a sex symbol, even in the 80s? It feels like it might be heteronormative of me to say so, but I really don’t think that was ever the case.

**I might have been the one to recommend the movie for the show, based on Roger Ebert’s appreciation for the film. I think a little less of both Ebert and myself right now. New rule: no more sight-unseen podcast recommendations from me.

Rambo: First Blood Part II (1985)

Director: George P. Cosmatos

Cast: Sylvester Stallone, Richard Crenna, Charles Napier, Steven Berkoff

Have I Seen it Before: Between cable and spending most of the 00s sitting on a couch, I was bound to catch the film by osmosis alone. And that’s not even counting the select scenes that are forever etched into my brain because they were featured in Gremlins 2: The New Batch (1990).

Did I Like It: I like First Blood (1982) quite a bit, and I really, really, found Rambo: Last Blood (2019) to be one of the more annoying movies I ever had to sit through in recent years, to the point where I can’t quite account for how Stallone is still able to be a part of good movies.

So, where does this one land? It’s probably the most iconic outing for the character. When you think of Rambo, you’re probably half-remembering some scene from this movie above all others. That counts for something. A movie doesn’t become iconic without some kind of virtue raising that profile. Even The Room (2003) has an watchable quality.

And damned if I didn’t passively enjoy this film. Maybe its the James Cameron story providing the backbone for the script. Maybe it’s just the undeniable visceral (and sometimes filled with viscera) experience of seeing an angry man blow up as many people as possible with some kind of vaguely altruistic reason. I’m along for the ride, no matter how ridiculous it objectively is, and no matter how preposterously removed the character suddenly becomes from his origins*.

But it only lasts so long. After all of the violence is over, and Stallone feels an inexplicable need to drive home the “lesson” of it all, and I’m out. Completely. Matters are not helped even a little bit by the fact that with such treacle filling ones ears, it has to be drilled home even further by a Frank Stallone song… And not even a good one.

*Although, to be fair, not quite as insanely divorced as the animated series Rambo: The Force of Freedom, a subsequent attempt to jam David Morell’s novel into a G.I. Joe clone.

First Blood (1982)

Director: Ted Kotcheff

Cast: Sylvester Stallone, Richard Crenna, Brian Dennehy, David Caruso

Have I Seen it Before: Oh, sure.

Did I Like It: Wildly—and I do mean wildly—inconsistent tiling of the series aside, is there a series that starts in a place so different than what it eventually (and almost immediately after this film’s runtime ends) becomes? Given that this first film that features Rambo (Stallone) portrays him as an live current of PTSD that eventually collapses into an emotional meltdown which subsequently leads to his surrender, I don’t think that other sharp left turn exists. It would be like Robocop spending his first film as a florist working through an oedipal complex.

That may read as snark, but I really think that makes this film fascinating. There are few major movie stars who have usually been fueled by their ego than Stallone, so those brief instances where he sheds that baggage* are stark and can’t be ignored.

The film also presents an interesting political paradox. In 2023 it’s hard to fathom a film that steadfastly sympathizes with Vietnam veterans (to the point of never really reckoning with the notion that the war should never have happened in the first place) and inescapably comes to the conclusion that all cops have a predilection for bastardy**.

Taken on its own merits, it’s hard to find fault in a movie that resoundingly embraces such conflicting ideas (that an action movie can approach any idea makes the whole affair seem quaint). It’s also so refreshing that Stallone leaved well enough alone and let the film stand on its own for all time…

Oh, wait. Not only does he compulsively and irrationally go back to the well here, to the point where endless bouts as Rocky seem restrained by comparison… But I took the bait and bought the entire series on iTunes. Now I have to watch them. I have nothing but dread in my bones. All I can hope is that Rambo will kill me swiftly before I bring myself to watch Rambo: Last Blood (2019) again.

*Even the early Rocky films can’t completely shed this impulse, only Creed (2015) comes anywhere close.

**At least those not played by David Caruso…

The Fog (1980)

Director: John Carpenter

Cast: Adrienne Barbeau, Jamie Lee Curtis, John Houseman, Janet Leigh

Have I Seen it Before: Oh, sure. It’s not like there were Carpenter movies other than Assault on Precinct 13 (1976) that I have been spending all of these years missing.

Did I Like It: Here’s the problem: I never felt like I got this one entirely. It isn’t a slasher movie, but it wasn’t like people were going to give Carpenter big movie money in 1980 on the heels of Halloween (1978) for anything without stabbings. It’s a ghost story, one supposes, but those ghosts—when they aren’t silent guys who stab things—take the form of one of the most slowly moving, easily avoidable natural phenomena of which I can readily think.

Carpenter himself didn’t feel like the film worked on first blush, and who am I to argue with the master? It isn’t all that scary. Also, there’s no Donald Pleasance in sight, and there really is no excuse for a Carpenter movie to not have Donald Pleasance prior to 1995*. Most damningly, much of the third act groans from the weight of explaining just what is within that fog, and why it wants to wreak just that much havoc. Carpenter at his best, and certainly his two previous films benefit from a ruthless minimalism in their thrills. Maybe this motif was rendered against his better judgment, or perhaps the demands of the horror marketplace and success diminished him for a moment. Ultimately, it’s not so much a case of the difficult second album, but more of a case of the difficult second album about which anyone could be bothered to pay attention.

And yet, it is a Carpenter film and can never be fully dismissed. First of all, he scored the thing, and as much as I might lament him not directing anymore, the fact that he is still producing scores is a throughly satisfying consolation prize. Secondly, even though the fog and what lives within it never quite work, I recognize an idea of unknowable horror that exists in his previous work and that he continues to reckon with. It will never be top tier Carpenter, but him on his worst day (The Ward (2010) not withstanding) is better than almost anybody of his or anyone else’s era.

*Is there a correlation between Pleasance’s passing and the Carpenter’s severe waning interest in continuing to make movies? I’m not seeing a lack of one, to be sure. Not even an injection of Kurt Russell in his life could keep things from eventually unravelling.

Creed III (2023)

Director: Michael B. Jordan

Cast: Michael B. Jordan, Tessa Thompson, Jonathan Majors, Phylicia Rashad

Have I Seen it Before: No…

Did I Like It: The prospect of a Rocky movie without Sylvester Stallone is one I shouldn’t be in favor of, right? It’s like a Batman movie in the 90s without Michael Keaton, a James Bond movie without Sean Connery, or a Scream movie without Neve Campbell.

All right, I heard it.

It’s interesting that this film is released in the same month as Scream VI, as this film far more effectively move on from the massive shadow of its iconic central character and performance. That’s probably creditable to Creed II (2018), which I’ve spent the last few years in my mind as a serviceable but vastly inferior sequel to the first Creed (2015), but gave plenty of satisfying conclusion to Balboa’s story, to the point where we may not need to see him again*.

It also helps that both of those films helped establish Michael B. Jordan as an undeniable movie star, and Adonis Creed as a character we want to root for as much as for as his predecessors.

Jordan also acquits himself well as a director. The notion of directing a trilogy capper is daunting enough (with or without the full cast), but directing the ninth in a longer running series has to be an even taller order. What more can be done with this format? While the proceedings do run parallel with Rocky III (1982), Jordan adds an energy to the matches that make the punches feel different (he’s made no secret of Anime influences on the editing and staging, which is certainly something Stallone or John G. Avildsen would have tried). Does all of this make those fights less suspenseful than they had been in the past. I’m going to land on “no”, the fact that there is anything new here is something of a small miracle. Believing that things won’t work out for the main character is probably too much to hope for nine films later.

*A reaction I also had to Rocky Balboa (2006), but what the hell do I know?

The Last Trail (1927)

Director: Lewis Seller

Cast: Tom Mix, Carmelita Geraghty, William B. Davidson, Jerry Madden

Have I Seen it Before: Never. Not entirely sure I’ve seen it at this point.

Did I Like It: I’m sure most genres worked for the silent screen in their day. But I’m supremely confident that, save for a few exceptions, only comedy and horror—those two genres which insist on the viewer having a visceral, involuntary reaction to a film—have any staying power in the here and now.

Therefore, this film is already working at a disadvantage. True, Mix has an impressive fearlessness when it comes to stunts, but that only is brought to any kind of fruition in the final moments of the final act, when Mix surfs the scant remaining splinters of a stagecoach to a final victory against the bandits trying to fix the race. Everything else feels very basic, right down to the main character being forced to adopt an imp of a child who spends most of the runtime outwitting everyone around him like an early-day Jay North, or more accurately a store-brand Jackie Coogan. It feels like Charlie Chaplin would have sent a cease and desist letter if the film would have been a bigger hit, and if every picture of the era didn’t feel the need to partner him up with a little rascal (small “l”, small “r”).

Then there’s the matter of the film’s presentation. I’d be hard pressed to speak ill about a silent movie presented with a full organ accompaniment, especially when some lumbar company bought all the tickets, but let’s confront some unfortunate truths. First, we may not need to see any animated representations of people of Chinese descent from before… Well, anything before Mulan (1998) is going to have to be handled on a case-by-case basis. Also, there’s probably a reason that Felix the Cat disappeared into the mists of time*.

Second, it’s hard to get too much of a handle on the movie at all, as the only available version of the film has degraded so much from the original nitrate stock, that there are a number of shots which are nothing more than bright white light with a few scant shadows. I complain about the film’s average-ness here, but I don’t think mostly disappearing is a fair fate for any movie.

*There may have been an uncomfortable cartoon before the feature.

Scream VI (2023)*

Director: Matt Bettinelli-Olpin, Tyler Gillett

Cast: Melissa Barrera, Jasmin Savoy Brown, Jenna Ortega, Mason Gooding

Have I Seen it Before: Nope, brand new. Well, sort of brand new.

Did I Like It: No review of this film will probably be complete without reckoning with the elephant steadfastly refusing to enter the room, Neve Campbell’s Sidney Prescott**. Campbell’s  decision to not participate in the film did nothing to remove her from the suspect list. That the filmmakers were still able without skipping a beat to get this film into theaters inside of a year after the release of Scream (2022) tells me pretty clearly that Sidney was not a vital part of this story. Watching it unfold makes it pretty clear that the film probably wouldn’t have room for her. Campbell claims that she was being undervalued by the franchise she has brought so much to in the past, and in a series where it is important to not believe much of what we are told, I believe her completely.

That aside, I find this new film to be an exercise in half measures. The opening sequence—with Ghostfaces upon Ghostfaces being hunted by other Ghostfaces—is promising to the point that I think the series may have found a new lease on life that I was never completely convinced had been earned in last year’s entry. What’s more, spending time with the new “core four” characters this time was so engaging that I doubled down on my desire for six more Screams to come. This doesn’t even cover the fact that Gale Weathers (Courtney Cox, the only original cast member to return, even though I have sneaking suspicion that Matthew Lillard is in a cell somewhere, waiting for Scream 7–Sceaivii?—to come find him) gave Ghostface the fake out we all didn’t know we had been waiting for for nearly thirty years.

And then the ending happens, and most (but not all) of that promise goes up in smoke. Difficult to talk about the ending of a Scream without playing all of the available spoiler cards, but it’s a little disappointing that the new character played by the most famous actor in the cast winds up being behind it all. That’s a rule that will get you to solution of most crime procedural episodes before the second commercial break. That the whole affair ends up being a barely warmed-over rehash of the series-best Scream 2 (1997) doesn’t help anything. And the fact that both the protagonists and the villains of the piece could all come together and agree that Sidney Prescott should not be bothered right now strains the credulity of even the most naive of moviegoers. Namely, me.

Maybe we did need Sidney and Neve Campbell after all.

*Or is the title really SCREAIVI? I’m honestly not sure.

**Which I absolutely typed as Sidney Bristow originally. Thank Wes Craven that I was able to catch that one before sending the review to the press.

The Librarian: Return to King Solomon’s Mines (2006)

Director: Jonathan Frakes

Cast: Noah Wyle, Gabrielle Anwar, Robert Foxworth, Bob Newhart

Have I Seen it Before: Nah, just as with The Librarian: Quest for the Spear (2004), the adventures of Flynn Carsen (Wyle) have flown outside of my radar all of these years. As Lora watches the eventual series, I tend to be in the room while these films are happening around me.

Did I Like It: It’s clear almost immediately that this movie is far superior to the original. Wyle sheds at least some of that “aww, shucks” quality that made him a TV star in the first place, which goes some of the way to giving the pacing of the adventure a less halting quality.

What’s more, this feels far more like an actual movie than an above average weekend weather report, what with all of the preposterous green screen material that fueled the proceedings in the last go around. Maybe it’s a product of the first film’s marginal success, but there appears to be more of a budget here. At any rate, the production value is infinitely higher. All credit should be given to Jonathan Frakes’ influence, a clearly gifted director who should definitely be allowed to keep making features, even if two of his efforts twenty years ago failed to make a dime. It wasn’t his fault! The man made Star Trek: First Contact (1996). Show some respect!

Now, before we go thinking that my praise for this second Librarian film knows no bounds, let’s keep in mind that it’s not like the film has any surprises in it, even if all of the elements presented work a little bit better here. The twist in the plot is so obvious, I knew from where every new character was coming the moment they appeared on screen. And while the special effects are certainly better, this is still at its core a film designed for the sole purpose of filling time between cable broadcasts of NBA games.

Assault on Precinct 13 (1976)

Director: John Carpenter

Cast: Austin Stoker, Darwin Joston, Laurie Zimmer, Tony Burton

Have I Seen it Before: All right, fine. Confession time. Never. It’s always floated around the periphery for me, but I never got to it. One screening of the recent 4K restoration at Circle Cinema later, and there was little chance I was going to miss it.

Did I Like It: There’s something to be said for having staggering blind spots in your canon of. absolute greats. I’ve seen every Orson Welles film ever released, so I will never see Citizen Kane (1941), Touch of Evil (1958), or F for Fake (1973) for the first time.

So, here, to see a John Carpenter movie—and an early John Carpenter movie, at that—for the first time is a pleasure unique in the movies. The film is lean and angry, but hungry to impress, far before Carpenter had fallen out of love with making movies (I’m looking in your direction, The Ward (2010)). Every character, from the three leads down to the silent gang members and their poor, hapless target, oozes b-movie cool. In lesser hands, that B-quality is bound to make a film forgettable, but Carpenter has absolute, ruthless control over every image and sound you encounter that you suddenly remember why John Carpenter has deserved his name over the title of every feature he’s ever wrought.

I left the theater positively buzzing, and almost entirely not because of my caffeine intake that day. I immediately searched for the score on my phone to listen to as I drove home, but only found a few instances of the main title to slake my thirst. Had I not had other things to do, I probably would have gone to each and every one of the limited screenings going on that weekend.

But now I can never see it for the first time ever again. Well, crap.

*I might have been so enraptured of the film and taken leave of my senses, but did the precinct always have a sign on it that labeled it as number 14?

The Librarian: Quest for the Spear (2004)

Director: David Titcher*

Cast: Noah Wyle, Kyle MacLachlan, Sonya Walger, Bob Newhart

Have I Seen it Before: Never. Lora’s been watching The Librarians on Hulu. So, here we are.

Did I Like It: Rare is that a TV movie** exceeds the limitations of its production. So, I’m probably tempted to give this movie a pass for reverting to the mean, if not exceeding it. Not unlike The Mummy (1999) and its sequels, there was a moment where it wasn’t at all clear that there would be any more forthcoming Indiana Jones films, so we had to make do with what was available. This film also feels strangely compelled to imitate (not altogether successfully) the energy of Kill Bill Vol. 1 (2003) for no other reason than it came out roughly around the same time.

The special effects are so laughable that I have a hard time believing that this at all held up on crappy SD eighteen years ago. If ever there would be a law passed to provide any sort of limit on excessive use of cheap green screen, then every copy of this movie would be immediately impounded.

And yet, the film can’t be completely dismissed for the diversions it presents. The cast is charming, although nearly it’s an almost foregone conclusion that Noah Wyle, Bob Newhart, Kyle MacLachlan, Jane Curtin, and even Sonya Walger (RIP Molly Cobb) have far more to offer TV than what is offered here.

Everything about this film is at least slightly less than it could have been, but not any worse than it might have been. It is the perfect thing to fill time between other movies for me, and I suppose it was the perfect thing with multiple airings to fill airtime on TNT between broadcast of basketball games.

So, I suppose it hit the intended mark.

*I was under the impression Jonathan Frakes directed these things, so even here I’m feeling a bit deprived. Although I’m heartened to read that he directed the other two TV films.

**Are such things even made anymore? As a genre have they moved into that antiquated format afterlife like silent films and standalone superhero films?

Cocaine Bear (2023)

Director: Elizabeth Banks

Cast: Keri Russell, O’Shea Jackson Jr., Alden Ehrenreich, Ray Liotta

Have I Seen it Before: Nope.

Did I Like It: Christopher Miller and Phil Lord are associated with this, and they have a nearly unassailable track record of making bad ideas for films insanely watchable. Solo: A Star Wars Story (2018) might have struggled, but that was rather pointedly not their fault. Here, they have an absolutely killer—perhaps too on the nose—pitch for a movie, so one wonders how they might fair.

However, I fear your mileage with this movie will be tied almost exclusively to the crowd with which you see the film. I saw it with a small crowd that was so primed for howling with every joke and explosion of ultra-violence, with any other movie they might have been astonishingly irritating.

But this kind of movie is so delightfully shameless in its execution, that the shamelessness of the audience only seemed like part and parcel with the whole experience. I even found myself crying out a few times, usually when something horrible happened to Margo Martindale, which, to be fair, was often enough. If the movie hadn’t had a wide release and more than few big stars, it might have been the stuff of midnight screenings for years to come.

Or maybe not. As it stands, I’m wondering if with me writing this review nearly a week after I saw the film and after it was released, the movie may have already collectively disappeared from our collective awareness. I’m certainly struggling to find at least 300 words to write on the subject. I can’t imagine I’m alone when I say that I appreciate funny, ultra-violent, mid-budget movies which don’t feel the need to break two hours in runtime.

So I don’t actually think I’m actually complaining about the film as I write that last part. The title of the film will likely linger in my memory for some time, but memories of the film itself might very well disappear entirely with another week’s distance.