The Pirates of Treasure Island (2006)

Dare you brave the high heas of the low-brow?

This movie has been referred to as a satire. To begin this review, rest assured that the only tongue-in-cheek here will be the one in your mouth as your teeth grind through the fleshy tendons in an effort to survive this wreck. Nay, in an effort to survive this ship-wreck. Break out the rum, matey; you're gonna need it. Seriously.

The Pirates of Treasure Island first washed up upon our shores in 2006, landing a spot on retailer and movie rental shelves right next to Disney's commercial success Pirates of the Caribbean. It's not a bad ploy, seeping up the run-off from blockbuster titles. I've read/heard numerous customer testimonies re-enforcing the effectiveness of this strategy. What to do if the movie your children actually wanted is rented or sold out? Was your appetite whet with buccaneering adventure and left you craving more? You're in luck, because this movie was made for suckers... er... people like you. Unfortunately, profitable association was about all this movie banked on. Virtually no thought was given to any aspect of the production, save perhaps the cinematographer who took great care to frame shots around the rack of actress Rebekah Kochan.

Everyone likes a good pirate adventure. Robert Louis Stevenson opened up a dangerous and exciting world to many a reader in their youth, myself included. Pirates of Treasure Island is loosely - extremely loosely - based on that book.  In fact, most of what has been preserved is in name only, particularly the characters of Jim Hawkins and Long John Silver. If this film had a script, it was a bastard born from a plot synopsis on the Treasure Island wikipedia page. It also benefitted from a five minute google search on actual swashbucklers, naming one of the main characters Anne Bonny, based upon the real and infamous companion of Calico Jack, a piece of research even mentioned in the film. Unfortunately the research ended there; Bonny's name is misspelled in the credits (Bonney), and something tells me that the factual pirate, whose creed was to "take no prisoners," didn't have a heart of gold underneath it all. Or wear this much make-up. This movie can only be chalked up to sheer laziness; instead of creating an original story, a pseudo-plot based on the writings of a famous author whose work is public domain = an easy substitute.

The basic storyline consists of a treasure map that falls into the possession of Jim Hawkins, who then assembles a crew to take him to the island and find it.  Jim, who knows the value of keeping his mouth shut, refuses to tell the captain what they are doing, but flashes the map around to any yahoo in a tavern who asks to see it.  Thanks to these tactics, the ill-fated voyage is staffed largely by pirates whom the cook (a.k.a. Long John Silver, who buried the treasure there in the first place) dug up and before you know it, there's a mutiny afoot. Luckily there are still a few good men onboard... mostly women.  They somehow managed to disguise themselves as cabin boys, seeing as it is bad luck for women to be on a voyage.  Anne Bonny sneaking aboard to help her wet-behind-the-ears love interest Jim is understandable, but the female Asian pirate who also stowed away seemingly has no motivation. She just did. It's also quite obvious she's a woman throughout the entire trip, and yet everyone is shocked to the core when her femininity is revealed. Her hot pink vest should've been a dead giveaway. That or her breasts. It's lucky Jim had these ladies too, as you can't retrieve a stolen treasure without breaking a few eggs and since most of his men will meet with a cruel fate, Jim still has a crew of pirate women and whores to help him sail back home.

Naturally, the movie culminates in an all out battle at the ancient Mayan (or is it Incan?) temple on the island where the treasure, previously buried, has now relocated for some inexplicable reason.  There is a final dramatic face off between the plucky Jim and the salty old pirate Long John.  Luckily Jim, who is rather resilient, manages to defeat Long John despite the pirate shooting him in the chest and Silver ends his own death spasms with some sage advice to Jim.  "Just remember this: it takes twenty-six muscles in your face to frown and only five to smile."

For the most part, the film is a typical, if poorly executed, adventure on the high seas in search of treasure. There are, however, a couple of WTF moments that rear their ugly chitinous heads during the movie. While embroiled in their pirate adventures, both the characters and audience are caught off guard when enormous CGI bugs attack.  For some reason they inhabit the island and (it turns out) are responsible for Long John's missing leg. The bugs may seem random and totally unrelated to the plot, but thanks to the DVD extras, these beetle villains are explained. The special effects artist showed the director some awesome digital bugs he'd created and they decided to throw them in. It stands to reason. You don't hire people who can make sweet CGI insects and let that skill go to waste.

The second moment is more difficult to ascertain, occurring right after the death of Long John. As the surviving characters rejoice in their victory, a skeletal figure (read: man with a skeleton face mask) pops out from behind the treasure and makes some idle threats before being shot. Seriously, WTF? It has no relation to the story and if there is some mysterious curse upon the bug temple, this is the first indication of such. The DVD commentary sheds no additional light as the moment is taken up instead by the director, producer and several actors engaging in a deep discussion of the women in the movie and their respective chests. In fact a good two-thirds of the commentary is focused on the actresses' anatomies.

Since we're already talking script, the film is riddled with trite lines that vacillate between modern anachronisms, exaggerated stereotypic "pirate-speak," and the downright ridiculous: "A little lightening scare ya? Benjamin Franklin says 'you've got nothing to fear unless you've got a rod sticking out yer ass.'"   It helps little that "the actors" spend most of their efforts on talking like pirates instead of actually acting.  Long John, or rather actor Lance Hendrikson playing Long John, cannot seem to decide exactly what nationality his character is and the famous Silver switches between an Irish, Scottish, and his native American accent, all peppered with the obligatory "arrgs" and "matey's." Captain Smollete and his two ladies-of-the-night, on the other hand, are reason enough for the nation of France to declare war, should they ever happen upon this collection of atrocious French accents. It's uncomfortable to listen to for non-native speakers; one can only imagine the horror with which real French-persons would view it.  The main problem is that every character on screen seems too keenly aware that they are making a period piece and need to act like they are in a period piece, utilizing over-the-top action and unnecessarily muddled language.

Obviously this film is a low-budget feature but with some carefully planning many of the monetary limitations could have been disguised.  Instead the attitude seems to be quick and dirty and what results looks like something you and your friends threw together one afternoon. The costumes are a mixture of cheap halloween store pieces and cast-offs from a high school drama production, filling the screen with chintzy felt pirate hats, kitschy velveteens, and bargain-basement gold trimmings. These are all served up without a speck of dirt or aging and in a range of styles that traverse 200 hundred years of piracy fashion. Some of the quirkier additions must be seen to be believed, like Blind Pew's glasses complete with eye drawn in... white-out?

And then there's the hair... those who weren't lucky enough to keep their present-day coifs are forced into terrible wigs. Terrible, terrible wigs that had no more than five minutes given to their cheap acrylic styling nor fit any of the actors heads correctly.

Friends, that's only the half of it. There are guns without bullets or muzzle flashes that kill using, it seems, sound effects alone; swords make any number of slicing and clanging sounds, even when simply being held. Locations are arbitrary or Treasure Island has one of the most bizarre eco-systems known and should be studied. At first glance the island looks positively transplanted from the Oregon coastline and a dash of northern California's redwoods, but once you move deeper inland you'll find it is filled with a dense and misty tropical jungle.

While all this parades past you onscreen, set to a exciting and stylish midi soundtrack, one of the biggest disparities in realism and continuity is the pirate ship. Every pirate has to have a ship and this movie gives you three. Maybe four. Whenever a close-up take place on the ship, it is painfully obvious that said ship is not moving through the water and is, in fact anchored in a harbor. No shot makes this more apparent than the final dramatic moment when the newly named Captain Jim and Anne stand dramatically at the wheel, sailing into the sunset. Jim spins the wheel, taking her out to sea, but alas! The ship seems completely unresponsive.

Perhaps it wouldn't have been a noticeable issue if all the sailing shots weren't stock footage. And worse, they're stock footage of several different ships, all utilized to make the good ship "Hispanola" sail. If that name doesn't sound familiar from the traditional Treasure Island story or like something a French captain would name his ship, it might be because the film crew happened to have some shots of a boat called "The Hispanola" and decided to run with it. The problem lies in the ships being markedly different, so much so that there are moments you're misled into thinking it's a different vessel. "Is this another ship full of pirates? How come they're also at the secret island? Wait... how come they have the same crew?" There are even points where the editor cuts from a shot of one ship to a completely different ship, without having the decency to hope the audience will forget they were just looking at a different craft. Presented below for your viewing pleasure are some of the many faces of the "Hispanola."

The Pirates of Treasure Island is bad. Really, honestly, awful. Perhaps what stings the most about this movie is that the filmmakers know its bad. Made and distributed by The Asylum Home Entertainment, the company has a history of putting out blatant rip-offs of the current blockbuster films. In what seems to be a Producer's-like scam, Asylum notoriously pumps out sure-to-tank films faster than you can say "hack job."  Unlike a classic bad movie like Manos: The Hands of Fate, there were no dreams or hopes for this film other than those of a financial nature. It's a dupe on the audience and the art of filmmaking. While Cinematic Casualty will doubtlessly encounter and review more Asylum films, condolences go out to all the independent filmmakers struggling find the capital to share their stories while slag like this is financed and churned out.

That said, The Pirates of Treasure Island is a rollicking good time when viewed with heckling friends and a bottle of rum in hand. It gets a 8 on the "So-Bad-You-Must-See-It-Immediately"Scale.

The Wiz (1978)

"No one home in Soulsville, baby."

I admit a bit of hesitancy in reviewing this film, as I expect someone, somewhere, believes this movie made significant contributions toward equality in civil rights. Quite frankly, I am not going to display any bias for a movie because it caters to a particular minority or contributes to social progress. A bad movie is a bad movie, whatever it's stripes.

That said, grab a terrier, your best pair of sequined stilettos and let's ease on down the road (yes that obscenely citrus-colored road) and into The Wiz (1978).  The Wiz is a revamping of Frank L. Baum's classic The Wizard of Oz. The story is a cultural icon at this point, and if you're like me, your mother subjected you many a trip to Oz with Judy Garland during your childhood. In fact the Wizard of Oz has become such a phenomenon it's been the subject of multiple additions and re-workings in films, broadway musicals, and Sci-Fi channel miniseries over the years.  The Wiz is another such a re-imagining. An African American re-imagining.

However (yes there's a however), this movie is a stylistically far cry from it's roots. It actually began on the stage in 1975 where it garnered all sorts of praise and Tony Awards. The musical remained mostly true to the regular story line, the only notable differences being the musical numbers and a completely African American cast. I should mention it was also very successful. Well, success like that has to be tampered with and it when Motown Productions acquired the rights, they set out to make a film version filled with the hottest black stars of the time. And this, gentle viewer, is how I came to be watching an afro'ed Diana Ross in blue polyester running around Oz with her companions: Nipsey Russell as the carney Tin-man, the cowardly lion as played by Ted Ross, and a trash-filed scarecrow named Michael Jackson. Oh yes.

As this is a musical, filled with music artists, maybe we'll start with the music. Let's get one thing clear: I do not hate musicals. I don't mind a well crafted story with a few toe-tapping numbers, so don't think I'm pre-disposed to hate this based on those grounds alone. I know the songs are carried over from the broadway show and won some recognition in bygone eras, but god-oh-god the songs. My major complaint is with the length of every number - the ballads carry on for FAR too long. About the time you're checking your watch odds are the song still has a good five minutes left. With the exception of "Ease on Down the Road," none of the tunes are particularly catchy ("Ease" probably isn't all that catchy either except it WILL get stuck in your head. Thanks to the 17 reprises after any and every pit-stop, it will be impossible for you not to be singing this song days afterward)and even the big names don't seem to add much. Diana's vocal work often sounds raspy and weak, and MJ's awkward gyrations on his t.v. antenna pole in his first scene will just serve to make you uncomfortable. Maybe not as uncomfortable as when Michael-Jackson-Scarecrow later asks "Where the little boys at?" but still awkward. I can honestly say that this movie would be greatly improved without the music. Every time a new number began I'd sigh deeply. "Another one?" became my mantra while watching this movie, and I even found myself muttering it on the very first number. Suffice it to say, be glad you're not seeing this show live and I recommend that any future viewers consider keeping a remote control in hand for those lengthy, forgettable moments in song.

Now you might ask yourself, why was this film made? Let's talk shop. Back in 1975 someone decided that the African American community needed its own version of Wizard of Oz. In 1977 someone else decided that the musical should be adapted for film, and that it really ought to address its demographic and sought to make the story even more... relatable, perhaps? You know, not that "white man's" Land of Oz filled with cute singing munchkins, evil apple-throwing trees and a green Wicked Witch of the West, all in glorious Technicolor.

No, our Dorothy a.k.a. Ms. Ross is a Brooklyn suburbanite, and the movie opens on a lovely Thanksgiving feast in their apartment filled with friends and family. After the obligatory heartwarming musical number, we get filled in on a few details about Dorothy's past: she's a 25 year old kindergarten teacher, never been south of 125th street, shy, and just doesn't fit in. How do you fix a problem like Dorothy? If you're Glinda, you create a snow tornado that sweeps down the street, whipping her and Toto up in a flurry of bad special effects and even worse wirework. Why anyone thought that the most realistic way to make Dorothy "fall" onscreen was to horizontally pull her sideways, is beyond me. It does make for an enjoyable moment when her blanket "floats away" or rather is obviously yanked from her by two strings tied to the corners. It's seriously bad, and my description cannot do it justice. I'm no expert, so they didn't consult me, but isn't it easier to makes someone seem to fall by dropping them in the direction gravity is pulling them anyway?

Dorothy crashes through a giant light-up Oz sign in the sky which falls and kills the witch. After all, we can't scoop up Dorothy's Brooklyn apartment building and drop it her; it'd kill all the munchkins as well. As for Dorothy, luckily she breaks her fall in a giant pile of... cornmeal? Yes, Cornmeal. Which happens to be set in the middle of what looks like a dangerously rundown playground surrounded by a high rise sprawl. Remember that magically colorful world Dorothy finds herself in The Wizard of Oz? In The Wiz its a muted, dilapidated place full of graffiti and rubble. That's right, the black version of Oz is a dump. Thematically its supposed to appear as a surreal New York City, and locations like the NYC Public Library or the yellow brick road leading to five (count 'em) Chrysler Buildings, crop up throughout the film.

All the locations and ideas get an urban revamping here and my favorite scene occurs when Dorothy and her companions are forced into the subway system only to be pursued by dastardly tile pillars who detach themselves from their moorings, garbage cans with teeth, and snaking electric wires. Luckily the Cowardly Lion was bluffing about his courage issues and systematically saves everyone. The scene is so ridiculous, so over the top, and so the antithesis of peril you can't help but laugh. When they finally emerge from the subway they land themselves in the poppy field. Oh, my bad. A "field" (or nightclub) full of "poppies" (or prostitutes with poppies on their dresses and hot pants). Obviously whores and the perfumes they love will make you tired.

While it is interesting to see a different take on characters who are part of our film vernacular, these incarnations just don't hold water for me. They're more ridiculous than intriguing. Take the monkeys, for example. These "winged" creatures roar their way onto the screen on oversized motorcycles while wearing freaky monkey face-masks. Then there's Glinda the Good, played by Lena Horne, who spends all her time hanging out in space, rarely making an appearance except at the beginning and the end. Considering she whisked Dorothy here, its unfortunate that she's far too busy to aid their journey whatsoever. Busy with what, you ask? Why, with all the star-babies, naturally. Star babies are infants who don't look terribly pleased to be stuffed in a fleece star suit and hung from the rafters. And they look even less pleased when Lena starts in on her song, giving the camera looks that clearly read, "Here this bitch goes again..."

Despite all of these changes, the one I pondered most was why this mystical world looks way shittier than the Brooklyn she grew up in. And moreover, what is this supposed to say about African Americans? Why is their Oz in the ghetto? Of course, things improve the closer they get to the Emerald City, which by the way turns out to be a city square surrounded by more high rise office buildings (it looks eerily similar to Munchkinland, the playground equipment being traded out for giant crystals and walking cameras). Is this some sort of oppression message? Maybe, except that the man is hardly keeping these citizens down. And by the man I mean the Wiz. And by the Wiz I mean Richard Pryor. Yep. He's more sad than funny in this go-around however.

I admit that this movie isn't lacking innovation in the alterations made. And personally I'll always trade lavish magical beauty for decay and post-apocalyptic theming. But it doesn't make sense here. Either the director believes that all black people are poor urbanites, or these were the easiest/cheapest locations to film at. It might be both. But either way the ruined NYC scape dominates the movie. There also might be a slim chance that the message here is that New York goes to hell without white folks, but that seems a bit racist.

Which is kind of the point I'm driving home here. For a movie that was made for the black community, with all black actors, this film will make your average viewer a might bit fidgety if only for the fact that it plays off black stereotypes. Surprised? Maybe you shouldn't be given that the director was Sidney Lumet, a white man. The screenplay, which, by the way, is completely original and draws nil from the stage version (songs aside), is written by none other than Joel Schumacher. You know, of Batman & Robin and fame? And also a white man. If you're planning on rewriting a script and want it to reach a particular demographic, wouldn't it be prudent to ask someone who is connected with said group? Instead they asked a couple of white guys to make a movie for a black audience... It should be no surprise that this movie comes across as racist.

You'll find it in small details, like the many taxi cabs to the Emerald City who won't stop for Dorothy and her crew, or the Cowardly Lion being named "Fleetwood Coupe de Ville" (which, when revealed to the others is followed by the Lion's explanation that "Mama had high ideals"), or even the crows (who look ready to break out in "When I See an Elephant Fly" from Disney's Dumbo) who are a parade of laziness and apathy. If that wasn't enough, some parts are seriously questionable. Take the Evillene scene, for example. I'm not sure where this name for the Wicked Witch came from, but she looks nothing like you might remember. In fact what she looks like is a bad blackface cartoon. Evillene also rules a sweat shop with an iron fist, dramatically demanding that no one give her bad news (in song, naturally) as her freakish looking workers (complete with enormous behinds) work and dance and sing along. And when the witch is finally melted in the end, the workers shed their wear to dance in loin clothes. The scene plays out so offensively all you can do is stare with your mouth open.

While there are many aspects of the film that just aren't up to par - like the music or the acting (Was Botox available this early? Diana Ross seems to only have one frozen expression throughout the entire film; her acting is so mechanical if you aren't watching carefully you may mistake her for the Tin-man), what really pushes into the bad movie cannon is how socially backwards it comes across. The argument might be made that the message of all of this is not to accept the circumstances you are dealt and to rise above them. It that is the case, why build the film on negative stereotypes? Shouldn't it buck those traditions instead of embracing them? Maybe back during original release The Wiz was speaking to the black community, but today it seems a big ball of racism.

The Wiz gets a 3 on the "So-Bad-You-Must-See-It-Immediately" scale for using African Americans to pander to what Caucasians think they should be.

A Wishmaster(s) Trio: Part IV - Prophecy Fulfilled

Playtime is over.  Thank God.

If you've been following these reviews, I imagine you're a little sick of hearing about the Djinn.  You're not alone.  About this point - and it was a rough point as we debated whether to forge on ahead and view the forth film after watching I and III - some question began to arise.  Why, for example, did the Djinn have to immediately announce his grand scheme to the "Waker?"  Doesn't it stand to reason that instead of yet again demanding that the pitiful human go ahead and wish their world into hellish oblivion, meanwhile fulfilling each wish in the most gruesome and insane manner possible, the Djinn might consider trying a new tactic?  The adage "You catch more flies with honey..." comes to mind.  I know I wouldn't respond terribly well to an evil creature yelling at me to make more wishes after seeing his penchant for  mutilating my friends when I do venture a wish.

It's not what I'd call a well thought-out plan.

Almost as if granting a wish, Wishmaster IV (2002) picked up on this.  And addressed it.  It saddens me to admit that this may actually be the best film of I, III, and IV.  That's all relatively speaking, of course; it is by no means good.  There are sure to be people who fight me on this judgment; the first film is rated almost two points higher on IMDB.  I'm willing to wager that those who prefer the first movie are thrown by the turn this one takes, eschewing most of the campy gore scenes for arguments about homewreckers and replacing the outright "uncontainable evil" persona for a subtle and subversive one.  You know, the kind the Christian right likes to suggest will make you gay.  Or a democrat.  They traded out the screenwriter, dropped a lot of (but not all) the stupid wishes and add a surprising intelligence to the Djinn's strategy: granting small unassuming wishes without the heroine ever knowing she was being given them.  Well, small if you call her bitter paralyzed boyfriend suddenly being able to walk again "small and unassuming."   The film even had the good graces to cast the best looking stolen human form for the Djinn yet.  You're not completely mystified as to why our main character throws herself at him.  But I'm getting ahead. 

Fear not.  The filmmakers don't completely forget all our series conventions.  There's still a horrible accident that plagues our moody protagonist (hence the BF's paralysis), and a multitude of boob shots to ease your viewing pain.  And yes, there are couple of really stupid wishes, like one girl wishing she could have "sex to die for."  The Djinn grants this by pinning her body against a wall using unseen forces and apparently orgasming her to death.  So really it was more like masturbation to die for, unless the wall had some part in her enjoyment.  But then I don't imagine you're terribly surprised by the Djinn's disinterest in granting her what she actually asked for.  Anyway, back to the story.

Wishmaster IV kicks it off with the "happier times" of our main characters.  Young and romantic, they break into an abandoned house and make love on some squatter's fleabag mattress.  The fantasy doesn't end there, as Sam then sketches the lovely Lisa, naked in front of a roaring fire... but all is not well as an iceberg looms dead ahead! Apologies, I'm getting it mixed up with Titanic again.  No, Sam and Lisa hop back on his motorcycle after the sketching session and zoom off into the present.  In the present (circa 2002) Sam is unloveable, depressed and unable to walk.  Lisa, ever the faithful companion, is now embroiled in the legal process of his settlement.

"Where does the evil genie come into it?!" I can hear you asking.  Don't worry child.  The lawyer on Sam's case, Steve, sorta has a thing for Lisa.  He likes to express these inappropriate feelings by giving her weird local handicrafts; every girl's dream.  In a fit of frustration Lisa throws the gift and wouldn't you just know it?  There's a blood stone hiding inside!  Simply by touching - not blowing, or rubbing -  the stone, Lisa awakens a washed-up, has-been of great evil.  

Let's just skim over what happens next since it should be rather obvious:  Lisa takes off. Djinn makes an appearance to the bewildered, just-been-spurned guy.  Djinn kills guy and assumes his identity.  Djinn goes looking for the waker.  Here's where our trip makes a slight departure.  Steve-Djinn finds Lisa rather easily.  In fact he just calls her up on the phone.  Score one for the evil genie utilizing today's technology to locate his victim, sparing viewers from a tedious search-for-the-waker montage.  Next, he decides NOT to show her his true form right-out-the-gate.  Another smart move.  Instead of Lisa wasting all her wishes on trying to defeat the demon or simply holding out from making her last one, she unknowingly wishes for things that the loitering Steve-Djinn grants.  Clever, right?  Well as the movie progresses it slowly turn into a supernatural episode of Dawson's Creek.  Tensions mount between ultra-bitter Sam and unappreciated, had-it-up-to-here Lisa.  Meanwhile Steve-Djinn picks up where dead-Steve left off and begins laying on the romantic overtures pretty thickly.  All the more reason for Sam to be annoyed with Lisa and Lisa to find Steve-Djinn even more appealing.  Not that I'm taking sides in this but Sam may have a point, as Lisa, for no explained reason, won't even let him see her naked anymore.  Cold.  A man has needs.  Nowadays Sam is forced to spend all his time on his laptop looking at tasteful websites designed for the sexually aroused gentleman.  At least those women love him for who he is.

Torn between two men, one an emo, paraplegic porn-addict and the other a sweet, wealthy lawyer/all-powerful, evil-incarnate, Lisa must make a tough decision.  All this relationship drama cultivates in a scene where Lisa finally makes her third wish... That she could love Steve-Djinn for who he really is.   Did I say he was all-powerful?  Let's try almost all-powerful.  It seems that Djinn can't mess with love - it's too strong a force, or too foreign to the demons or something or other, and thus the only one who can grant this wish is Lisa herself.  This presents a problem as Steve-Djinn is really more Djinn than Steve and good luck getting her to fall in love with a hideous monster bent on world domination.  But that doesn't mean he isn't going to try, dammit.  Where does one start when learning to woo human women?  By asking people who really understand love and commitment.  So Steve-Djinn sets off for the strip club where, not surprisingly  he runs into Sam (drama!) and grants a couple of wishes.  I need to pause to say that I'm disappointed with the filmmakers in their lack of follow-through with one bartender's wish to be "a zit on her [a stripper's] ass."  Sure, the Djinn grants it, but we never get to see it realized.  I was thoroughly disappointed as visions of an extreme close up on a bartender-faced zit danced through my head.  You'll  just have to imagine it, I guess.

Somewhere in here the producers must have been worried about losing their original audience as the body count simply isn't as high as previous Wishmaster movies.  Enter "the Hunter."  Apparently when the third wish is officially made (not granted) this mysterious statue is brought to life to stop the Djinn if possible.  WTF?  There is no mention of why or who set up this desperate last gambit.  In most circumstances, since the wish would've been granted immediately, this measure seems like far too little, a little too late.  Either way, it plays out like someone from the Highlander franchise has wandered into the film, hair and all.   He's not good either; let's clarify that right now.  You might be duped into thinking he's working for the man upstairs or something, except that his first act is to behead a shop keeper who is creeped out by him.   The Hunter is little more than an inclusion designed to up the random violence and propagate a dramatic sword fight in the woods with Steve-Djinn.  Don't worry this subplot doesn't go on for long as the Hunter is quickly dispatched, leaving Steve-Djinn to explain to Lisa why a Scotsman just jumped out of the forest and attacked him.  With a sword.  Luckily Steve-Djinn is quick on his borrowed feet, and blames it on a disgruntled client.

Suffice it to say, the Djinn just isn't grasping the concept of wooing and makes the fatal mistake (just as so many high school girls and Dawson's Creek stars have) of thinking that by sleeping with her, Lisa will love him.  Tenderly, the Djinn is now starting to fall in love with Lisa himself, or so we are lead to believe by the countless (read: 3) other Djinn on "the other side" who keep petitioning him to fulfill the last wish.  They show up every so often to chastise poor Steve-Djinn about his unnatural interest in Lisa and to just get 'er done.  They don't understand; semi-omnipotent evil beings never do.  

But sleep with Lisa he does, in an epically creepy scene with way too many extra Djinn hands getting involved.   Here's where it all falls apart, at least for the Djinn, and perhaps the viewer too.  Finally revealing himself to her, the Djinn panics and falls back on the old tried-and-useless method of demanding that she fulfill the wish (and destroy the world), as if Lisa can just flip a switch and love him. Seriously, the Djinn just don't get human relationships.  At least he offers to sweeten the deal by making Lisa his Queen... not a bad offer, really, from a guy who can grant any wish your heart desires, especially if he loves you and perhaps doesn't want to give you the worst possible interpretations.   I was a little saddened by her lack of enthusiasm for him or his offer.  Sure, he's probably not your ideal, but he can look like anyone you want him to and for being a remorseless and hateful creature, he's made some strong strides in the direction of affection and love.  He's not without hope, is he?  And Steve-Djinn is way better than pathetic and irritating Sam.  But apparently Lisa isn't impressed by this and well... I guess you'll just have to see the film for the thrilling conclusion filled with boatloads (3) of Djinn and more blue screened fire effects than you could ever imagine.  But don't take my word for it!  

Wishmaster IV: Prophecy Fulfilled (it isn't, BTW) smashes into a 4 on the "So-bad-you-must-see-it-immediately" scale.   The best of the three.  Which isn't saying much.  

A Wishmaster(s) Trio: Part III

I'm not sure it's even fair to give a full review to Wishmaster III: Beyond the Gates of Hell (2001).  Why you ask?

For starters, the movie opens with a dream sequence involving a horrible car crash. Young Diana Collins and her parents are driving along, minding their own business, when the "DAD, LOOK OUT!" scene screeches into the movie.  A jack-knifed semi-truck is cutting off part of the road up ahead.  Dad panics and instead of swerving to the right, where the road is clear, makes a desperate swerve to the left, into the accident, and rolls their car multiple times,  Diana's unscathed father leaps miraculously from the sheet of metal that used to be a car, and helps Diana to safety before running back for her mother.  His timing couldn't be worse, however, and the car (as all Hollywood cars must) explodes in a fiery ball.   Mom and Dad both tragically burn to death.  

So sad.  And Diana has never been the same since  "the accident."  In fact, after being awakened by this nightmare she goes and sits on the roof, toying with the idea of jumping, much to the worry of Greg, her jealous boyfriend, who puts up with some serious quirks from Diana.  Apparently she's really hot (see previous Wishmaster review) despite her average features.

Anyway, Diana is the favorite T.A. of the university's history teacher, Professor Barash, who has a thing for college girls, badly bleached hair, and ancient artifacts.  In fact Barash just happened to commission a museum exhibition with, you guessed it, some Persian artifacts!  Naturally he wants Diana to check it out with him, much to the chagrin of Greg.  Unfortunately, the good Professor must have missed his own memo since she arrives and he doesn't bother to show up for another couple hours.  He's probably just busy correcting papers, or raping a campus co-ed.  Turns out, as the Djinn later drudges up, Barash can't always control his sexual impulses around all these attractive students.  Sometimes "no" just means "yes."

Meanwhile, you can't let a history buff like Diana alone in a room full of artifacts without some sort of mayhem, right?  And wouldn't you know she happens upon a very particular stone, happens to decode the secret message on the stone and also happens to open it's secret compartment containing... wait for it... a blood stone.  And a Djinn.   All in five minutes.  Any archeology team would be lucky to have her, if she wasn't so busy letting evil spirits loose.

Ignore the details, are any of the main points of this sounding vaguely familiar?  That's because Wishmaster III is a blatant rip-off of the same plot as the first Wishmaster.  Really, really blatant.  If the first one is bad, then what is does lousy carbon copy look like?  Search no further than this movie.  Oh sure, Diana is younger than our previous heroine, a nubile young college student.  But let's start keeping score here.  Professor Barash, asks her to dinner and is spurned, before becoming toast thanks to the Djinn she let loose.  Wait, didn't that exact thing happen to the Scientist-Schmuck?  And what about Diana's friend, who bears a strikingly similar personality and the same penchant for dressing like a hooker as Alexandra's sister from the first one? Apparently Djinn prefer woman with parents who go up in a blaze, since both main characters lost theirs in a fire.

And what is with these movies and the Djinn having to desperately track down their "Waker" anyway?  Somehow, by the time he shows up, the girl has taken off to who-knows-where, leaving the Djinn to Nancy Drew his way to where she resides.  This involves obtaining school or work records, hunting down former bosses and lapses in deductive logic.  If there's a more obtuse and indirect way to discover either of these women's residences, rest assured the Djinn will find it.  Have these Djinn never considered using a phone book or the school's directory?   You might argue that they're from another world/time period, but that's moot since the Djinn clearly know how to (and do) use cell phones.

Not to belabor the point, but this film is also rife with ridiculous wishes and wish-grantings.  I'm still angry about one girl in particular.  While running from the Djinn, she ducks into a science classroom and wishes she could find a place to hide.  Done!  Granting her wish, the Djinn forces her head into a cage filled with lab rats that start chewing on her face.  "No one will find you in there," he cackles.

Uh... what?  Am I the only one confused by the execution of this wish?
A) Since when do rats just chew peoples eyes and faces off, first of all.
B) A little cage in the middle of the science room does NOT a hiding place make.
C) The Djinn laughs about it, as thought he's clever.  What do you mean no one will find her in there?  Her head is in a animal cage in the middle of the room, with the rest of her body hanging outside it on the counter.  It's the first thing you WOULD notice upon entering.  And as if to prove my point, Diana and Greg do find her, about ten minutes later. My frustrations with this wish fulfillment are enormous.  If someone wished for a place to hide, I can think of a thousand horrible places to put them.  A cage that doesn't even remotely act as a hiding place is just sloppy and incredibly lazy.  My anger grows.  

I did get my hopes up for another wish however, when their friend the frat boy encounters and fights the Djinn. The Djinn demands that frat boy wish for something from him.  Frat boy responds "To blow me!"  For a split second, you hope the franchise just might take it up a notch in bad taste and feature a Djinn blow job.  But no, the creature just gores him on a hanging bull's head on the wall instead.  Or in another erotic moment in which a character behaves as though bleached-hair-homely-joe is sex-on-a-stick, there's the girl who wishes her heart broken by Professor Barash (actually the Djinn in disguise).  You can guess what a wish like that might result in.  And don't get me started on the girl who wishes to be thin and so he gives her "anorexia."  Clearly these Djinn are not medical experts as another misconstrued diagnosis occurs.  The girl spends her last moments vomiting her own fat chunks up.  Apart from being disgusting, it still rankles me that we're supposed to equate that with anorexia.  Not bulimia, or some internal liposuction, but anorexia.  It doesn't last long however, because Diana falls for the same old "Do you want me to release her from her pain?" trick only to be totally shocked when the Djinn kills the girl.  God, wishes are so overrated.

In fairness, there are some differences between the two films.  Like the smoking.  While the first film maintained a constant smokey haze, this movie eschews all the ciggies for something more conventional.  Like boobs.  Lots and lots of boobs.

I'm not sure if this movie was meant to rope in a new generation, seeing as the first was only released four years earlier, but it looks as though they tried to bring in slasher conventions to get the teenagers who sneak into these sorts of movies all excited.  All the women take off their tops at some point or another, because hey! This is a college town, and college girls are craaaazy!!  Or more likely the director was just a perv, and enjoyed seeing his entire female cast naked.  Which reminds me.  I didn't mention how Professor Barash dies, did I? Without spoiling it, I'll tell you this much:  it involves topless belly dancers and sharp teeth.

The Djinn is played by a different actor this time around.  We lose the creepy voice and instead we get someone a little more manic with a high pitched voice, and less... um subtlety?  It's wrong that I could even call the first incarnation subtle compared to this, but there you have it.  He even has a new monster suit, complete with the hottest trend in monster prosthetics, a pair of giant shoulder thorns.  They really are the new shoulder pad.

Diana does make use of one of her wishes, thanks to the obligatory research scene.  Facing down the Djinn, she decides to wish for the spirit of the Archangel Michael to come help her.  No offense, but I find it hard to believe that Diana's intelligence quotient would allow her to come up with that option in a high pressure situation.  Especially since her first wish was releasing the girl's pain.  I'll tell you, it wouldn't have been my first thought, and I consider myself brighter than Diana, but she's all over it.  Let's also not mention how lucky it is that the Djinn's guard is down and he doesn't see fit to twist this wish at all.  She gets exactly what she wants, the spirit of Michael, all contained in her boyfriend Greg's body.

It might have even been a good wish if Michael weren't totally and utterly useless.  Apart from being one  of the dullest things to hit the earth, he's also condescending and a complete sexist.  I didn't realize Michael had such disdain for the fairer sex, as he occasionally adds "... for a woman" to his speeches on how hopeless the situation is.  Stop being a douche and have a little faith man.  You're an archangel for God's sake!  Luckily Michael, or Greg-Michael as it were, has a really bad ass sword that he must have dug up from one of those weird little oriental stores in the mall that sell all sorts of low grade weapon reproductions and bamboo plants.

Diana is on a mission now, ready to kill the Djinn however she can, and as she tells her friends, help her or get out of her way.  Since most of them run aimlessly around campus and then die, I suppose they chose the latter.  Anyway, I do need to mention that none of these characters are appealing in this movie.  None.  They are not relatable; they are completely shallow, and their logic fluctuates to huge degrees.  Luckily they all behave as if the shoddy writing really gives them concrete rules for defeating this Djinn, despite the fact that the contrived rules are constantly broken on the whim of any production staff member.

How does it end, you might ask?  By fleshing out the foreshadowing from the beginning.  Foreshadowing plays a major role in this film, and you know these clever filmmakers were laying the tracks for this ending from the get-go.  Like the family car crash and that scene later when Greg-Michael and Diana flee from the Djinn by car only to crash in huge fiery explosion (obviously).  That whole scene at the opening about jumping off the roof... total foreshadowing.   Diana attempts to kill herself to avoid a third wish by jumping off the building.  It doesn't work, but total clever foreshadowing.  In the end, Diana does manage to stab the Djinn with the sword, resulting in blue pyrotechnics and scorched grass.  Oh, and Diana falling off the building and to her death.  It's like a big circle.  See how that works? Clever.

Poor dead Diana.  If only something could bring her back, like the tear of an Archangel.  What?  We just happen to have one of those present?  Well bring it on!  And so Greg-Michael does.  After flying off the roof.  Wait, he could fly this entire time and never did?  In all their running, escaping and exploits against the Djinn, you didn't think that might come in handy?  Worthless, Michael.  You're totally worthless.

Wishmaster wasn't exactly brilliant.  But it does start to look that way next to the dumbed down,  erotically awkward and atrocious writing of it's bastard brother Wishmaster III...

I give it a 6 on the "So-Bad-You-Must-See-It-Immediately"Scale.

Part IV Coming soon... Stay tuned!!

A Wishmaster(s) Trio: Part I

A movie riddled with plot holes and blatantly ignored rules?  Your wish is my command.

This weekend presented an opportunity I couldn't pass up... or miss subjecting friends to.  OnDemand happened to have the Wishmaster series of films available for viewing.  Now I love campy horror and this promised to be exactly that.  We started with the first and were so unimpressed, we couldn't help but wish for more.  Unfortunately, only movies I, III, and IV were available.  I'm not sure why II didn't make the grade, but we'll forgo it for the moment, to review these three.  And don't worry, I'll be sure to add the second, should I dig it up to watch.

Let's start with the first, Wes Craven presents (but neither writes nor directs) Wishmaster (1997).  Everyone knows the stories about wishes gone bad.  I realized from a grade school age, after reading stories like The Monkey's Paw, that a plan of of action was definitely required should a genie, or severed hand, ever show up to grant me my wishes.  Liberal interpretations are a given when dealing with magical beings, and in the event I was offered such a gift, I'd be sure to have my lawyers on call, writing an enormous contract detailing the exact specificities of my wish, and how it was to be administered, negating potential health risks and negative side effects to me or anyone else.  I mean, isn't it just obvious?  These things should be done with care.


Wishmaster is a fantastic account of what happens when stupid people are given the opportunity to have anything they want.  And it does sport a great opening, as a Persian kingdom is laid to waste by the king's wishes.  You can't help but wonder what he wished, as his subjects are violently turned into trees, crocodile-snake hybrids, or have their flesh melt off and their stop-motion skeleton jump out to attack other hapless people.  How can you say no to a fat man's intestine's bursting from his stomach, growing a face and chewing on a random woman?  The film was made in the late 90's, and it harkens to a time when foam latex make-up effects were scary; a simpler time before the era of torture-porn and really decent digital special effects.

Back to the wish, we never find out, because the Djinn (which are basically evil scary genies... or as EVERY Wishmaster movie will tell you, creatures that dwell between worlds) gets locked in a gem stone, or rather, a blood stone.  I know, this flies in the face of all those genie-in-a-lamp/bottle myths you've heard, but folks, this is the way it works.  Trust the movie.  Flash forward to present day (a.k.a. 1997) in which a museum collector is waiting for his Persian statue to arrive.  You can guess where this is going, can't you?   There's an accident, someone finds the gem, he sells it, etc, etc, until one thing leads to another and our deeply troubled heroine, Alexandra Amberson (how's that for a name?) makes an appearance, when she's asked to appraise the stone.

Now, you might think a gemologist would handle it carefully and look at the chemical make-up of this ridiculously large gem, but no.  She flies on instinct here, and instead she blows on it then rubs in on her sweater.  I'm not sure which is necessary for waking the Djinn (particularly since in the later films he seems to awaken just by someone touching the thing), but rest assured you need either blow the Djinn, or rub it on your sweater.  Right.

If you have your own Djinn problems, allow me to post the blood stone recipe from the film here.  Note it also helps to keep your ingredients in celtic boxes or containers made from human skulls.

Simple Blood Stone Recipe

  1 Dash paprika

  2 Pinches of cinnamon

  1 Sundried tomato

  4 oz. of human blood or Kool-Aid

Place ingredients in pestle and mortar; grind with love.  Heat mixture until the consistency of molten metal, pour into a quartz rock.  Voila! Your very own bloodstone, perfect for containing one (1) evil creature.  

Warning: The stone is a door between worlds and may be opened from either side.  Horrific and absurd supernatural mayhem likely.

Perhaps it's just as well since, had Alexandra investigated the make-up of the gem, she'd realize it wasn't rock at all but human blood, like a really big scab.  And not only would that be creepy, she also might be dead right now.  Luckily Alexandra sends it over to her desperate bestie to take a look.  He says yes, cuz he's a scientist-schmuck, and wants into her pants.  Instead, the the rock explodes, releasing a larval-Djinn who, thanks to Scientist-Schmuck's wish to "end the pain" steals his life force.

For clarification purposes, let's get the rules of the Djinn straight here:

1. The Djinn only has as much power as people wish for things.  They have to wish for him to be able to do anything.  Unless it's inconvenient to the plot.
2. The Djinn can cut off and steal faces (thanks to their swiss-army fingernails) to look like anyone.  Even your homeroom teacher.  Remember that F she gave you on your history paper and then imprisoned you inside a giant ruby?  It might have been a Djinn.
3.  The Djinn must grant three wishes to the person who awoke him (hereafter referred to as "The Waker").  Upon the third wish, he can open a gateway for his fellow Djinn who will pour through and destroy the world.
4.  God created these creatures, "from the fire," apparently for no real purpose except to lurk around, waiting to get to Earth and have humanity wish themselves into bloody oblivion.  That's right.  Your God created these jokers.
5.  The Djinn get to freely interpret the wishes of a person wishing, even if their interpretations are big stretches, sometimes to the point of not making sense.  Oh, and usually these have negative consequences.

After watching stupid people making many stupid wishes, wishes which are compounded in stupidity by the Djinn's fulfillment, I realized there's a serious problem with the system out there.  These Djinn get to run around granting wishes, and aren't beholden to anyone.  There's no cosmic checks and balances, and as such, the nasty actualities are pretty far removed from what the person asked for.  For example, a homeless man wishes for the death of a local pharmacist.  After a prompting from the Djinn to explore the reaches of his imagination for the details of the demise, he creatively adds, "... to get cancer and die."  BAM! Granted.  Apparently Djinn-cancer is much worse than human-cancer since the pharmacist immediately goes sallow, followed by boiling skin and vomiting up toothpaste and falling dead in the space of 15 seconds.  Since when were these symptoms of cancer?

In another unlikely granting, a bouncer at the party tells the Djinn he wishes he could escape.  And bam!  Bouncer is now trapped in a strait jacket, submerged in a tank of water.  The Djinn adds that "Houdini did it in two minutes!"  Oh ha ha, how clever.  Wait.  Didn't he wish to escape?  Not be trapped in a magic trick and drown.  Talk about wide interpretation...  Even more, the Djinn starts bringing statues to life, strangling people with piano wire and trapping people in burning paintings, all under a blanket wish for a man's party "to be remembered."  Oh it's remembered, but what exactly are the statutes of limitation on such a wish?  Till the Djinn gets bored mutilating the guests?  It's a pretty vague request.  And this brings my point home.   Perhaps that's one of the major reasons this movie bugs me.  It tries to be clever and instead comes across ridiculous and nonsensical.

I feel we need some sort of oversight committee who can address and set the standard for wish fulfilling.  I strongly urge you to write your congressmen and senators, asking for new laws to control free interpretations of wishes and some sort of organization who will hold the Djinn responsible for falsely granting wishes.  I propose the Veracity & Adjudication of Genies (V.A.G.) Committee, or something like that.  It really is in everyone's best interest.  This way, those killed by their own malicious wish will rest assured that it was their own fault for lack of planning and not because some Djinn hadn't really thought through the twisting of the wish.

Can I take a moment to point out that it doesn't take a very bright bulb to see that wishing for "the pain to go away" will result in your death?  And yet people continually ask for it.  Honestly.  What's worse, is many of these people are totally lulled by the Djinn's arguments to reveal their deepest desires to him - which is usually right after they've seen him in his true form as a horrific creature, or in his almost creepier registered-sex-offender human form.  The human form is usually doing something weird, like crashing an exclusive party, or demanding security guards open the doors to a corporate building at 2:00 am.  But with minimal persuasion, they totally open up to the Djinn, and naturally suffer for it.  Even more perplexing is that women seem to find his human form really sexy.

This becomes a theme in the Wishmaster movies, where terribly unattractive people are somehow viewed as sex bombs, when no one even wished for it.  It's like being in a parallel dimension, where the filmmakers keep trying to remind us that these actors are hot stuff when they obviously aren't...

 I mean look, could you resist a face like this?  Yeah, me too.

But that's not the only thing they're trying to pass off.  As you're watching this movie, you might notice an oddly universal character trait.  Everyone in this film, and I do mean everyone, smokes.  Everyone.  Even the creature, older than time with infinite power, lights up.  There might be subtext here: Wishes, and smoking, will kill you.  But upon closer inspection, you'll realize that the smoking is really to create atmosphere, and acts as a stand-in for actual, you know... acting.   This is a dark moody scene - let's have him smoke.  Alright, time to look pensive, better have a smoke.  Stare deep into the fire, remembering the accident, and smoke.  Got to formulate a plan to stop the Djinn! I'll think about it and have a smoke.

Overall, it wasn't the worst of the series, but it certainly wasn't the best.  I have to admit that I watched a couple of behind the scenes moments, where the director copped to pretty much making decisions on the fly...  and I'm not terribly surprised.  It's pretty scattered and the holes in the plot stare you down.  But the cardinal sin in my book (and in most horror films) is when the characters make unbelievably bad decisions.  Not decisions in moments of panic, but really hit-yourself-in-the-face kind of decisions, just to further the splatter, gore and scares.  What does Alexandra think is going to happen when she wishes to know fully what the Djinn is?  A history lesson?  Stupid.

This movie does seem to have a cult following, and for that I'm sorry.  It was totally ridiculous, but at the same time, a bit of an ego boost.  You'll constantly ask yourself "Is that the best they could come up with?"  And with a sense of satisfaction, you'll know that you could definitely do better.  Definitely.

I give it a 4 on the "So-Bad-You-Must See-It-Immediately" Scale.

Stay tuned for Parts III and IV.

Blue Demon (2004)

Because nothing fixes a marriage like a genetically-altered Great White shark.  

Ever since Jaws, the killer shark theme has been added to the annuls of the thriller/horror genre.  It has also been countlessly replicated and rarely well.  Blue Demon is no exception.  In fact it excels at making terrible decisions out the gate.

Take the premise for example:  In uncertain times such as these, the U.S. needs better anti-terrorism weapons... what to do?  How about alter the DNA of great whites to patrol our california coast and kill anti-American attackers.  Yeah, that was my first thought too.

Luckily this movie helps us explore how much an error of judgement this would be.  Particularly if we leave it to a bunch of government scientists who operate out of a reconditioned kindergarten room, as their butcher paper fish decor suggests.  And the man in charge of these experiments?  Actually there's an anxious curmudgeon of a dwarf named Lawrence van Allen who leads the project.  In a movie where you'll be lucky to remember the genders of the two main characters, you'll know Lawrence van Allen because he throws his name around CONSTANTLY.  Apparently telling people your name is equated with authority in the secret government project hierarchy.  I will say that the "don't you know who I am?!?" calling card of Lawrence van Allen does (unintentionally or otherwise) smack a bit of Little Man's Disease.

Lawrence van Allen is second only to the ultra-American, psychotically patriotic, U.S. General with quintessential buzz-cut and cigar.  You know, the kind who believe in preemptive strikes as a matter of duty and freedom?  If ever there ever a character built on stereotypes, it's the General.  This makes things easier for filmmaker and audience alike, however.  By not having to flesh out a real character with depth, we can easily assess everything we need to know about the General.  And you'll be right about all of it.

But let's face it.  The stars of this film are an almost ensemble cast of People-Off-the-Street-Actors (POTSA).  Two of my favorites are the badly dubbed skinny-dipping lovers.  Okay, they don't skinny dip.  They almost do, but just when you thought you'd get some skin, turns out they did bring their swimsuits, ha ha.  That's okay because they do share a passionate, if brief, lip brush... The pseudo-kiss is a romantic first for both of these twenty-something year olds.  Between the voice over and the acting, you get the impression they might both be mentally challenged.  Their naivete and awkwardly lame personalities almost provoked enough sympathy for me to hope they'd get away from the awkward foam fin that "pursues" them at a remarkably pathetic clip along the lake shore (the modded sharkes have miraculously transitioned to freshwater, BTW).  After all, no one wants to see the handicapped ruthlessly torn to bits by a marine killing machine.  And then you remember, wasn't there a plot somewhere going on?  Government scientists going rogue to stop their misused life's work and all that?

Don't worry.  They do get away, thanks to another cameo character who looks as though he trowels the lakes searching for killer sharks to shoot at with his harpoon gun.  And like the other two, and many one-hit-wonder bands from the 80's, he'll never show up again.

But that's nothing special either.  You'll constantly ask yourself "Wait, who are you?" as yet another random person's story is thrown in all willy-nilly like.  This film is an endless buffet of poorly acted characters who neither advance the plot, nor end up as fodder for the evil sharks.  Which is unfortunate for a killer shark movie. In fact the whole thing is extremely tame.  Maybe a bit of over-the-top gore would've sated the film critic in me, but no such luck.  My 80-year-old grandma's maxi pads are bloodier than this film.

Perhaps they engineered the sharks to clean up after themselves too, since despite people being occasionally eaten neither grisly hide nor hair ever remains.  Or perhaps they just swallow their victims whole.  Either way, modifying the sharks to have rubber teeth was probably their smartest move.  Sure, they still kill people, but I'd guess it's a more comfortable way to go.   Regardless, all sorts of mayhem is implied to break loose when these sharks escape.

Honestly, all sorts.  The main characters, scientists and now-divorced Marla and Nathan Collins keep talking about it.  Thank god, since showing it might be too graphic for the children in the audience.  Marla and Nathan have worked on this project for years, so much in fact, their marriage fell by the wayside.  They also have a knack for turning on the radio when news coverage concerns the police hunt for them and using cellphones to hack government encrypted programs and steal back electronic control of deadly sharks.  These two will take you on a wild ride as they piece together a plot for coastal domination the likes of which James Bond couldn't unravel.  Luckily these two are smart.  Really smart.  We know this because Marla and Nathan keep telling each other how smart the other is.

"You're the smartest woman... human being I've ever known.  It's what attracted me to you in the first place, Marla."

Seeing as I operate on an intelligence level far below them, it stands to reason that most of their decisions seem completely illogical.  And clearly they know what they're doing, as everything works out amazingly in the end.  Perhaps it might make more sense if I had the IQ to genetically modify sharks too.

Now after all their harrowing experiences, chasing computer geeks, running from the law, wrestling General Patton for control of his gun, ruefully stopping shark attacks, and even hallucinations involving visits from a heavenly spirit a la Angels in America, they realize they really do love each other and decide to get back together on the way to her Senate hearing.

But while everything seems to have worked out, gentle viewer, the terror may not be over.  As Marla is questioned by a senator at the end of the film, tightly framed against a poorly hung american flag, she is asked whether something like this could happen again.  "I don't know Senator... I just don't know."

Roll credits.

Spooky, right?  I know, I know, the cover makes it almost look like it could be a decent B-flick.  But it isn't.  It's worse.  It tries to be satirical but fails miserably.   I hope you don't mind SPOILERS, because I'm about to throw some in here... like the fact that I just don't buy the ending, and not just because of all the poorly animated CGI sharks, or the CGI surface of the water (why is that even necessary?)  Mostly, I have a hard time swallowing (no pun intended) that a great white, even one controlled from the back of a remote lab stashed in an old hostess truck, will gently carry a Russian briefcase nuke in its teeth for miles through the ocean.

But "Red Dog" does.  Oh it does.  Check it out for the explosive ending.  Ha.

Blue Demon gets a solid 5 on the 1-10 "So Bad You Must See it Immediately" Scale.

So One Day...

A couple of friends and I were just sitting there, and the idea struck me: what if we were to watch some really bad movies?  In fact what if we were to take it to the next level and watch several bad movies in one evening?  We could provide our own commentary on the films in an attempt to minimize the discomfort, which would be funny.  More importantly, we could share the suffering.

Misery loves company.  Particularly if it's the author of your favorite literary heroine.

And what if we made this film experience a contest?  Each of us could bring a shitty movie in hopes of wreaking emotional havoc upon the others - isn't that what friendship is all about?  Of course this means wading through a whole lotta awful to find something truly horrifying, but we think it's worth it for that moment in which one of your close friends asks for a blunt object to gouge out their eyes.  

Bad Movie Night (BMN) was born.  And through the years I have seen my share of films that make me want to hurt myself.  Occasionally I've experienced the glory that comes from winning said contest.  Overall it's been very fulfilling.

Until two days ago.  I sat down, to see what was on the telly, and a vision opened itself up to me, in the form of Blue Demon.  I began watching the movie, transfixed at just how bad it was, and no one to share it with.  Suddenly, I knew.  As surely as if baby Jesus himself had sat up in the manger and spit up all over my face.  Bad Movie Night was bigger than just me.  It was bigger than my friends.

BMN was big enough for the online-a-verse.

And thus it came to pass, that an Angel of the Lord, with a visage like that of Ed Wood, came unto me.  He proclaimed that I must go forth and write a compendium of reviews and personal attacks on all the trash Hollywood dished up (aside from Paris or Lindsay).

And so my friends, I present to you all the cinematic casualties I can muster.