lonflexx Reviews

P.O.V.: The Learning (2011) Season 24, Episode 12

These teacher's vision of their craft is realistic, it's American insanity that turns classrooms into battle grounds

[7/10 · 22 April 2015]

Although the documentary tries to depict these four teachers (three really, as Grace is barely heard from)as naive little Asian cookies (is there any other kind we westerners like?), originating from a country so historically rife with poverty, corruption, and venality it is a difficult characterization to sustain. What makes these teachers distinctly sympathetic is that they do come from such a place and yet struggle to maintain their professional standards. They are nice ladies, but not at all fragile and will not let opportunities slip through their fingers.

This is unfortunately in direct conflict with the young comparatively affluent Americans they are assigned to teach most of whom are mentally unstable and actively ambush their teacher's attempts to maintain order and civility in the classroom (much less learning). If nothing else, this POV illuminates the devastation caused by generations of drug addiction in Baltimore - a sin visited on the children who are technically cretins at birth. Naturally, school administrators assume the teachers are at fault for being culturally insensitive. The kids aren't being rude, they're just expressing themselves.

As with most current documentaries, this material does not hold up at feature film length. CineDiaz could have made their statement sharper with a 45-60 minutes edit. Too much padding and repetition drains the impact.

Stop Traffick (2013)

Wes Halula is the new Dwain Esper!

[10/10 · 21 April 2015]

Want a film with all the impact of Paul Schrader's ridiculous Hardcore that clocks-in at under 15 minutes? Here is a priceless gem reminiscent of the grand old roadshow epics. It can stand proudly alongside such educational classics as Escort Girls and Dance Hall Racket. Meggan Taylor gives a stand-out performance as an anguished mother hot on the trail of the devilish Romeo pimp. She is despondently wolfing down chocolate éclairs one minute, knocking 6'4" bouncers unconscious the next. These are the kind of histrionics fans of Desperate Living have been waiting years to see again in movies. The only thing missing is the William Castle touch - theater ushers passing out free black butterfly tattoos at the door.

Pom Poko (1994)

Deforestation seen as a Comedy-Fantasy

[2/10 · 19 January 2015]

Suspiciously lame political message from the overrated Ghibli. The narcissistic writers prove what a moral cesspool their city of Tokyo is by trying to convince the audience that all Life on planet earth must adapt to the sadistic whims of idiot bipeds. I'm sure Tokyo's construction contractors showed their gratitude to Takahati and his cringing assimilationist rhetoric. At least one character pulls through this blatant environmentalisn't propaganda with his soul intact - Gonta: a hero with balls big enough to take on dump trucks. Go Gonta! If he could pull off a few more Fukushimas, Japan might be suitable for life again in another 2000 years.

Pecker (1998)

Waters is so far behind the curve he even makes Baltimore strip clubs look boring

[1/10 · 4 January 2013]

Waters after Hairspray is like Woody Allen after Stardust Memories - you have to admire his ideas, but as far as execution the magic is gone. Pecker sets-up like a stock plot holding together a Marx Brother's comedy. Stuffed shirts, in the form of New York art snobs, are punctured by hometown "just folks". Unfortunately this isn't the Marx Brothers. Pecker's family and friends are neither fun nor interesting. And Water's undistinguished cast functions on a level well below the most routine Ma and Pa Kettle vehicle. The character acting is flat; Mary Kay Place, Mark Joy, Jean Schertler, Brendan Sexton, Carolyn Stayer, Jack Webster barely register on the screen. The supporting bit players are instantly forgettable. This is the fault of Pat Moran's casting judgement and Vince Peranio's flavorless set designs, neither of whom are helped by Water's lackluster jokes and apathetic timing. Any humdrum episode of Cheers is executed with more flair. Furlong, Lili Taylor, Martha Plimpton and Lauren Hulsey all appear ready and alert for a good show and are able to plow through soggy dialog while still showing signs of life. Unfortunately, none are given enough space to stage a filibuster and save the picture. Pecker is exactly the type of production that should have been vetted by a committee of Hollywood execs. They might have pitched better ideas about how to farm this turkey. The industry and audiences have caught up with the Waters program. They devour films and TV shows that make Mondo Trasho look respectable. That Waters would like to trade some of his cult status for box office success is understandable, but he is seriously misjudging the general audience who want something deeper and even more unique - not the same thing as on TV except more generic! Almost gave the Pecker an extra two stars for a fantastic Mink Stole cameo, but had to rescind them on account of a wasted Cindy Sherman appearance. John Waters is lucky the Baltimore Chamber of Commerce doesn't strip him of his citizenship after this pooped-out portrayal of his beloved hometown.

Fires of Kuwait (1992)

weak sister of Lessons Of Darkness

[3/10 · 24 January 2012]

It may not be fair to review this work from the DVD version rather than the IMAX adventure it was meant to be - the Warner DVD picture quality being uncomfortably compressed. Still, for a purely visual experience as this was meant to be, camera placement counts for a lot and David Douglas has nothing on Herzog's team. It's the difference between hack prose and epic poetry.

Douglas' approach to the ruination of Kuwaiti oil fields juxtaposes the horrific fire geysers underneath didactic narration about firefighting (voiceover by the lackluster Rip Torn), reducing the impact to that of an in-house industry video or recruiting tool for the Army Corps of Engineers. After showing the colossal scale of environmental devastation, Douglas has the temerity to put a feel-good spin at the end, creating a bizarre agenda that is anything but convincing.

Obama Anak Menteng (2010)

all to briefly HE walked among us

[3/10 · 24 January 2012]

When Barak Obama was six years old he and his mother relocated from Honolulu to Jakarta. This film purports to document his prepubescent school days and the precocious wisdom he imparted on the Indonesian people. But life among the Javanese was not easy for the young American sage. Despite adoring classmates, he struggled to fit in and almost as soon as he became acclimated to their backwards native way of life, his mother uprooted him again, dragging him back to the more academically challenging 50th state.

The young actor assigned to this potent role, Hasan Faruq Ali, has little screen charisma. Doe-eyed and sullen, he mopes through the part as if already burdened by his destined role as leader of the free world. His awe-struck classmates do nothing for the reputation of Indonesians. They act like simpletons barely able to comprehend the import of his occasional philosophic utterances.

And that's pretty much all that happens. The only entertaining respite is Teuku Zacky Azwar's portrayal of Turdi, Barak's flaming valet. He enlivens the movie with all too brief moments of entertaining camp. His character receives a premonition of the foreigner's divinity, but Barak is slow to accept Turdi's embarrassingly gay behavior.

What this all could mean to the average Indonesian moviegoer is a mystery. The version I viewed was from the DVD release which edits-out at least two scenes - one where Obama is kneeling on a rug praying to Allah and another where he is pledging allegiance to the Indonesian flag - cut so that Obama's current opponents in Washington couldn't use the visual images against him.

Guardian of the Frontier (2002)

Slovenians can make self-conscious tripe, too

[1/10 · 14 August 2011]

Can't recommend this silly effort unless you're really into Slovenian T&A.

Three potty-mouthed bratz from Ljubljana canoe topless to Croatia seemingly unaware of the distraction they cause to the local peasantry. Hm... or are they really so unwitting?

Throughout the overlong running time, these three empty-headed boobs talk obsessively about sex and advertise their young bodies to old men, grannies, retards and wildlife. Eventually they provoke the response they are looking for, bringing down the wrath of the ancient Slavic pagans.

The theme of contemporary banality vs. primeval mysticism is presented symbolically and would have been more successful if it had been taken further in this direction. What the viewer is left with is a film about how women instinctively eroticize their fears, particularly their fear of The Other - a philosophical concept much in favor throughout the writings of Slovenian academic Zizek. The Other here is symbolized by the creepy wilderness of Croatia where folk are lawless, inscrutable and potentially deadly. Our girls absorb just enough terror and brutality to lubricate their sex lives and one girl is apparently led to ovulation - the deepest chamber of her womanhood.

And when they finally escape their frenzied all-night ordeal they return to the prosaic comforts of civilization, where beer tastes crappy, rock bands suck, relationships fall apart and old coots still make lame passes at teenage hotties.

So, Guardians of the Border really only succeeds in being a sexy travelogue. If only Croatia really were this interesting...

Jail Bait (1954)

Ed and the basics of Hollywood filmmaking

[8/10 · 8 August 2011]

Once upon a time we could take for granted the comforting homilies surrounding the wretched career of Edward D. Wood, Jr. In the 70s, his ghost wore the Golden Turkey crown unchallenged.

Fast forward 30 or so years. The emergence of Home Video has literally thrown thousands of movies produced on similar budgets from that same time period in our lap. In comparison to his contemporaries, Ed's work doesn't look bad. Viewing Jail Bait from a pristine DVD transfer: the camera work, the lighting, editing, sound, script structure, blocking, use of location shooting - nothing glaringly inept about any of it. It is, in fact, above average for it's budget. Bride of the Monster would show even more improvement.

Jail Bait is certainly not as inspired as Plan 9 or Glen or Glenda, but it is more technically assured than similar genre efforts directed by Hollywood veterans like William Beaudine for Monogram. It can sit on par with a decent television drama of the day and is more entertaining than the claptrap MGM released that year.

As for the Cotton Watts and Chick sequence - this looks like it may have been some footage hacked from a completely different production that no one wanted. Ed probably acquired it for free and edited it in to pad the running time. It was common for budget-minded producers to chop-in all kinds of stock footage and even create subplots out of garbage swept from the cutting room floor.

The Witches of Salem: The Horror and the Hope (1972)

Helter Skelter - coming down fast in 1692

[10/10 · 25 April 2011]

A 35 minute short made to supplement high school history class comprehension of the Salem witch trials. Filmed documentary-style on location at Pioneer Village in desolate fall weather. The script is taken from the actual court records of the trials. This may explain some of the plot line lacunae which the previous reviewer is complaining about.

That reviewer is definitely right about the bewitching and hallucinations among the teenage puritans - it must have had students rolling in the aisles. Hilarity not withstanding, this film has solid educational value and could still be used in classrooms today. It's factual, it doesn't condescend and it gives a clear example of why separation between church and state is a desirable thing.

Viewers raised on 70s TV will recognize numerous familiar faces from made-for-TV-movies, cop shows and sit-coms of the era.

Go West Young Man (1936)

Mae uncomfortably shoehorned into a Jean Harlow vehicle

[4/10 · 22 March 2011]

In a plot reminiscent of 1933's Bombshell, Mae plays an ill-tempered conceited Hollywood diva hounded by scandal thanks to her sneaky press agent. West and Warren Williams are severely miscast and the show looks like it's going to be a major stink bomb until a fine ensemble of character actors steal the movie (and all the laughs) away from the principals.

Isabel Jewell and Elizabeth Patterson are a delight as always and it is the inimitable Nicodemus Stewart whose well-crafted antics and delivery provide the only inspired humor to be found here. The staff of the rural boarding house have real chemistry and their scenes have that breezy spontaneity viewers found so comforting in the 30s.

Although the dialogue is credited to West, she doesn't sprinkle much wit about her. Her character is sullen and irritable with no redeeming qualities. Even her gowns seem a little frumpy (that time of the month, Mae?). Warren Williams actually looks ill. His hair is a fright. He gives this comedy a manly effort and almost succeeds, but just can't muster the wise-guy mischievousness of a Lee Tracy. Neither he nor West are helped by the editing of their scenes which often look like several bad takes cobbled together.

South of the Border (2009)

Hollywood socialism from the top

[5/10 · 31 January 2011]

Stone is a heavy name in American film. It is used here to help balance the US media's ignorance of recent South American political inclinations. He interviews many elected officials, all of whom seem to be pretty enlightened guys, just like Stone. But they are politicians, each tooting their own horn - one couldn't expect any less. Big meaningful progressive issues are bandied about with revolutionary relish. And Stone could not be less inclined to investigate the ground beneath their feet.

If all this great stuff is happening in South America I couldn't be happier. But knowing how the world works I found it difficult to swallow all of the rhetoric as easily as Stone. His ear is surely closer to the ground than Fox, CNN or the NYT. But what does he need to do, as a filmmaker, to convince his audience of his point of view? He needs to show the proof in the pudding. Lets see the beans in the burrito. Not just the guacamole sauce.

How are these political changes working for the citizens? Let's hear it from the ground up, Oliver. How is Bolivarianism actually achieved within a 21st century global economy? I want to SEE this. If it is happening, why not show the nuts and bolts? Why not interview the newly empowered taxpaying residents and let them show the world how the new policies are changing their lives? To hear politicians gush about it will only move audiences to skepticism. By faith alone? - that's strictly for gringos.

As a fiction and fantasy auteur, it may be that Stone doesn't believe that a documentary approach can speak to the hearts and minds of a society raised on cable junk. He's probably right. But if he's a committed socialist he should work at it a little harder. Many of us are riper for it than even he may realize.

White Trash Girl (1995)

White Nothing-Here-To-Look-At Girl

[1/10 · 31 January 2011]

It's a student film, so that covers some of the juvenile aspects of this production. However, one does expect something from a film with three titles and a five minute trailer.

I don't know what the class assignment was, but there is no attempt to tell a story through pictures. Constant narration over shots of the filmmaker's friends who walk back and forth through vacant lots wearing thrift store clothing. Occasional stock footage is inserted to disrupt the monotony.

White Trash Girl is a parody of a parody of a parody of a John Waters set-up. Sort of like your least favorite Mad TV skit watered down.

George Kuchar admits to embarrassing himself on many film shoots during his long and illustrious career. This is the only thing I've seen in which he might actually need to be embarrassed. Luckliy it's just a 5 second cameo, as Reeder didn't have the cinematic instincts to give this great character actor more screen time.

The Runaways (2010)

Stinky-stinky-stinky-stinky STINKY BOMB!

[1/10 · 23 November 2010]

The Runaways were a wicked rock'n'roll experience. An excitement generated live, but never transferred onto their recording. Hence their popularity was short lived. Joan Jett was able to capture a trace of what they were aiming for on her bubblegum hits of the 80s. But the high point of the Runaways experience wasn't musical. It occurred in Cherie Currie's autobiography published long after the break-up. Her vivid and insightful writing ranks among the best celebrity bios ever. As entertaining in its own way as Errol Flynn's "My Wicked Wicked Ways".

Twenty years after publication, Jett and Currie let the movie industry have a go at their story, knocking the Runaways back to square one - their story a mess, the Runaways experience again transferred poorly for the masses. The chief element missing is rock'n'roll spirit. There's nothing cool like that here. A lot of pretentious posing by Hollywood types aping MTV videos from the 90s, smarmy camera-work and all. There's nothing of a punk or 70s rock aesthetic in the art direction. It had an alleged $10 mil budget, which pulls it way out of the "Independent Cinema" category. It looks and feels like 100% prefab Hollywood mainstream media junk. No unique vision compels the camera.

The only point to the story is the climactic neon lesbian scene between Stewart and Fanning. It's the one spot in the narrative that starts to sprout wings. But, like every other intriguing element of Currie's book, writer/director Sigismondi flushes it down the toilet to nowheresville. No emotional relationship is formed between the characters. Cherie's book is about real characters, their complex relationships interrelationships and their reactions under pressure. Sigismondi's cliff notes version shows that she hasn't a clue about what needs to be done to put this on the screen. Human relationships no longer translate in the plastic one-dimensional 21st century Hollywood mind. Organic narrative strands do not compute.

Her camera shows us a handful of generic washed-out characters, none of whom care about any of the other generic washed-out characters and nobody appears to be minding the music. Where Currie's book presents situations with a sarcastic tongue-in-cheek, Sigismondi extends a disconnected grimness. Where Currie planted her anger and wit, Sigismondi reaps incoherent navel gazing. What were the Runaways "rebelling"against? The boredom of suburbia? A male dominated music industry? That isn't clear. The slight adversity they meet is set up by Sigismondi like so many straw men.

Kristen Stewart is OK – it looks like she watched a few episodes of Happy Days and channeled Jett through The Fonze. Better than Dakota Fanning who is hopelessly out of her league. She doesn't have any idea of what to do with the character. In her own movie, Cherie ends up being a big unsympathetic blah – and this is probably pretty close to what Lita Ford thought of her. I guess they don't teach techniques like Projection and Communication in Hollywood acting schools anymore.

Michael Shannon plays Fowley as if he were the Mad Hatter in a Batman episode, except not as terrifying. Sigismondi obviously needed to create a Hollywood villain and pegged the stencil on Fowley. What she and Shannon fail to understand is that villains don't think they are villains. If an actor plays Richard The Third believing he is a Bad Guy… what audience wants to sink their teeth into a moldy stereotype like that? It's not just historically incorrect, it's boring.

Hopefully the movie industry will never get interested in pimping The Shaggs story – a far more talented band and one that had a much deeper impact on rock'n'roll than Joan Jett and the Runaways ever dreamed. If you want to see a good movie about The Runaways check out "The Fabulous Stains". It's more accurate and contains authentically scurrilous rock'n'roll aberrations.

Which Way Is Up? (1977)

the miseducation of Richard Pryor's audience

[6/10 · 9 August 2010]

Based on "The Seduction of Mimi", this Americanized version of the script loses much in the translation. Significantly damaged are the cutting social satire and the tragic aspect. The original, dealing with radical Italian politics and labor issues, Italian concepts of family honor, traditional Italian gender roles and an intimidating pyramid of social corruption MIGHT have worked here IF the Hollywood scriptwriters knew how to superimpose a uniquely American template onto these themes and redrew the map to fit. Instead they used the original script verbatim and threw-out anything too idiomatic, replacing political irony with rather dumb 70s TV sitcom jokes.

This left Pryor in the unenviable position of having to shore-up this spineless farce. He's left pretty much on his own. As in too many Peter Sellers movies, he's given free reign to pad the scenes with comic improvisation. In front of an audience Pryor was a genius at this. The camera just doesn't pick it up here. Most of his valiant efforts fall flat. Both Margaret Avery and Marilyn Coleman give more finely tuned comedic performances.

Pryor may actually be miscast. The role of Leroy calls for a Chaplineque everyman caught in the middle of tyrannical forces over which he has no control and must constantly deny his ideals and desires in order to survive. The role calls for an idiot, but a sympathetic one, and Pryor isn't credible as a dope. When he attempts to look clueless, he looks like a hip wiseguy trying to look innocent. And that's really funny in the right situation. But here it works like a spice trying to taste bland.

Fortunately, Pryor would try his hand at this type of character in Blue Collar with far better results.

I'm certain most of the blame can be leveled on both the producer and director. Steve Krantz was okay with cartoons, but a total hack at producing live action films. He was probably hovering around impeding the camera-work and making sure there were no retakes. Michael Schultz never made much of his directorial career and is particularly stale in the comedy genre. After some early potential he quickly sold himself out as a Hollywood flunkie for square producers like Krantz.

Five stars for Pryor because anything he's in is worth a look, plus an extra star for Avery, Coleman and gratuitous sightings of Korla Pandit and Hank Worden.

The Giant of Metropolis (1961)

Cheese? Camp??

[8/10 · 23 December 2007]

Hmmm... outside of the poor dubbing, I don't really understand how this gets basted as a turkey. I suppose you could eat cheetos and drink beer and watch it with your buds. It's entertaining, but hardly Maciste Against Hercules In The Valley Of Woe or similar low budget quickies full of unintentional laughs. It's more sci-fi than sandal due to the urgent "message" it attempts to teach us modern scientific men. Evidently the producers saw in the script an important project because they lavished the greater part of their creative energies on the costumes, set designs, lighting and camera set-ups. Like movies today, the stars are not found in the cast but in the art director's studio. If it weren't in color, Giant Of Metropolis might easily be mistaken for some expressionistic epic cooked up by Fritz Lang in 1925 or one of those "new wave" European productions of The Ring cycle from the 60s and 70s. The heavy symbolism is transcribed visually, and the Roman crafts people behind the scenes must have been pleased at the oppressive but strangely beautiful world they realized. So don't expect much exciting action, character development or witty dialog. But do expect a Roman giant of sorts, one with an under-appreciated place in the ranks of thoughtfully produced sci-fi cinema.