Pre-Code adaptation of H. G. Wells' novel The Island of Dr. Moreau is a notable horror film in its own right, though it departs significantly from the source material. That it will be different is given away as early as the credits when "The Panther Woman" is given equal billing with stars Charles Laughton, Richard Arlen, Leila Hyams, and Bela Lugosi. Wells didn't bother with women, feline or otherwise. Not till the closing credits do we discover that the Panther Woman is actually Kathleen Burke. (Burke, a dental assistant at the time, won a talent contest for the part.) Arlen plays the luckless man who unintentionally ends up on mad doctor Moreau's island of horrors, where Moreau (Laughton) is tentatively worshipped (and secretly hated) by the human-like creatures he has fashioned out of a variety of different animals in his feared House of Pain. Lota, the Panther Woman, is his greatest achievement; Moreau tricks Arlen into staying so that he can try to mate him with Lota. Wells himself didn't like this film, but then he didn't like Metropolis either. In fact, this is an atmospheric, exciting, and surprisingly adult horror movie that also has a few chilling moments, such as the one that shows us the ultimate fate of Moreau himself. But the best costuming and makeup in the film, in spite of all the weird creatures, is arguably that for Burke, whose erotic exoticism is one of the best reasons to see this picture.
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Pre-Code adaptation of H. G. Wells' novel The Island of Dr. Moreau is a notable horror film in its own right, though it departs significantly from the source material. That it will be different is given away as early as the credits when "The Panther Woman" is given equal billing with stars Charles Laughton, Richard Arlen, Leila Hyams, and Bela Lugosi. Wells didn't bother with women, feline or otherwise. Not till the closing credits do we discover that the Panther Woman is actually Kathleen Burke. (Burke, a dental assistant at the time, won a talent contest for the part.) Arlen plays the luckless man who unintentionally ends up on mad doctor Moreau's island of horrors, where Moreau (Laughton) is tentatively worshipped (and secretly hated) by the human-like creatures he has fashioned out of a variety of different animals in his feared House of Pain. Lota, the Panther Woman, is his greatest achievement; Moreau tricks Arlen into staying so that he can try to mate him with Lota. Wells himself didn't like this film, but then he didn't like Metropolis either. In fact, this is an atmospheric, exciting, and surprisingly adult horror movie that also has a few chilling moments, such as the one that shows us the ultimate fate of Moreau himself. But the best costuming and makeup in the film, in spite of all the weird creatures, is arguably that for Burke, whose erotic exoticism is one of the best reasons to see this picture.
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++1/2 Decent slasher film, even if the filmmakers were so embarrassed by the YA source material, the novel by Lois Duncan, that they offensively buried that fact in the closing credits. True, the book left much to be desired, but the hook -- a group of young adults haunted by (and hunted for) a crime they committed the previous summer -- is the best thing in either version, and that belongs solely to Duncan. That said, screenwriter Keven Williamson (what he did the previous year was write Scream) does a couple of good things with Duncan's book: he eliminates nearly all of its romantic overtones and he adds much-needed pep to the dialogue. Its an open question whether turning Duncan's thriller into a horror movie was an improvement: neither approach works well enough to tell. But the movie is certainly a great deal more visceral. Gillespie gives it a smooth, professional look, and the Casting Director does the rest, hiring the likes of Jennifer Love Hewitt, Sarah Michelle Gellar, Ryan Phillipe, and Freddie Prinze, Jr. as the teenagers who think they've successfully covered up their crime until a slicker-wearing psycho starts stalking them one by one. As usual, the setup is more interesting than the payoff. Followed by two sequels, the second of which went straight to video. ++++ Martians invade Earth one ship at a time for ten straight nights, build titanic tripedal fighting machines armed with heat-rays and chemical weapons, and set out to kill or consume mankind, beginning with the English. While it is interesting to note that had these Martians invaded only a few decades later, their technological superiority would have been eliminated and men would have made short work of them, this remains a compelling novel of survival in a world turned upside down almost overnight. Realistic and believable, thanks in no small part to Wells' choice of narrator, a hearty philosopher whose interest in his own harrowing story is augmented by a wider historical viewpoint, and whose moral sense (thankfully) rejects any notion of the innate preeminence of humankind. A thoughtful story, but also an exciting one, with enough apocalyptic destruction to satisfy all but the most jaded readers. Adapted twice to film, once in 1953, then again in 2005. Also famous for inspiring Orson Welles' "realistic" radio broadcast in 1938, which fooled a few people into believing Martians had indeed invaded. ++ Hammer's followup to their own 1965 version of H. Rider Haggard's novel isn't much of a sequel to the earlier film and it isn't based on Haggard's own sequel, Ayesha: The Return of She, either. It is "based on characters created by" the author, and that only barely. Most notably, She herself is absent. Oh, there's a young European beauty named Carol (Olinka Berova) who has, in essence, been nominated to take the Queen's place, but she's just an ordinary girl with no qualifications for the position other than her resemblance to Ursula Andress. On second thought, that makes her the perfect choice. For in this bizarre take on Haggard's characters, the great and terrible She-who-must-be-obeyed is reduced to nothing more than an impotent figurehead, Queen of the lost city of Kuma, which is actually ruled by a group of psychics called the Magi. If the film were honest about any of this, it might have worked. For instance, the one power She and her King, Kalikrates (John Richardson), actually possess is immortality; it might be interesting to see how an ability to outlive your opponents translates into political power. Instead, we get Phillip (Edward Judd), a psychiatrist who falls for troubled Carol -- and, significantly, a man who must ultimately save her. The only "vengeance" in this film is that directed at powerful women by sexist filmmakers. Which is odd because it was written by Peter O'Donnell, author of the Modesty Blaise books. Odder still in that the movie opens with an attempted rape that Carol appears to thwart with pre-Carrie psychokinesis, a talent that is never used again. (Can it be that even attempted rape is sufficient to render women powerless?) Senseless and silly, but the ending, by the Sacred Flame, isn't bad. ++ Lifeless, cliche-riddled sequel to Independence Day that, without Will Smith, is both uncharismatic and uncentered. Takes place 20 years after the original story, by which time Earth has been transformed into a science fiction wonderland of world peace, spaceships, and fancy new weapons that only work on misidentified aliens, not the real threats to its continued existence. Like the new mothership hovering over the Atlantic (which part of the Atlantic? a character asks; all of it, she is told) that, in its mission to drill down to and suck out the core of the planet, provides the authorities with a handy, helpful countdown clock to the end of the world. Young fighter pilots Liam Hemsworth and Jessie Usher (playing Smith's step-son from the original film) are supposed to make us care about the future of Earth, but that's hard to do when the future represented by these feuding hotshots, one of whom (Hemsworth) is just another follows-orders-only-when-he-wants-to military man, is so colorless and hackneyed. The oldsters, including familiar faces such as Jeff Goldblum, Judd Hirsch, Bill Pullman, and Brent Spiner, frankly don't make us any more optimistic. Good special effects, though. ++1/2 Shirley Jackson's second novel is one of those literary compositions that begs the question, What's the point? It's too many things all at once: a coming-of-age story, a survivor story, a horror story, a psychological mystery, and a satire of college life. Reading it in several sittings, you never know what you'll encounter from one to the next. It is about seventeen-year-old Natalie Waite who, just before leaving for an all-girls college, is taken into the woods behind her parents' house by a man with evil intentions. What happens to her there is left to our imagination, but it isn't our imagination that really matters: Natalie is a lonely, imaginative child and her experience only exacerbates her mind's distortion of reality -- which gradually, under the additional pressures of college life, blooms into full-blown psychosis. Sounds straightforward enough, but that's just the magic of summarization. In between, Jackson writes thousands of words of over-contextualization to convey a few brief relevant ideas. On the other hand, some of her satire is funny, and there's one truly wicked scene in which a couple of girls who have eyes for the professor Natalie herself is infatuated with use her mercilessly -- but ever so politely. Then, too, Jackson has a marvelous talent for shifting from the everyday to the terrifying in the wink of an eye, as she demonstrates here in two scenes, one toward the beginning, the other at the end. This is a book not without its pleasures, but it isn't on the whole a pleasurable book. Ever so vaguely inspired by the real-life disappearance (not that Natalie disappears, except perhaps psychologically) of Paula Jean Weldon who, in 1946, vanished on a hiking trail in North Bennington, Vermont, where Jackson was living at the time and where her husband was working in the same college Miss Weldon attended. +++ Tough yet principled New York detective (Frank Sinatra) has his hands full with a failing marriage, the high-profile murder of a homosexual, a questionable suicide, and his own career goals. Supporting cast includes Robert Duval as a bigoted cop, Lee Remick as the detective's wandering wife, and Jacqueline Bisset as a woman who believes her husband's death has been whitewashed by the cops. Bleak, but with much to appreciate if not precisely enjoy: a convoluted plot that is nevertheless well-constructed, its dark and moody atmosphere, and fine performances. Based on the novel by Roderick Thorp, the sequel to which, Nothing Lasts Forever, was also made into a standalone film -- Die Hard. ++ Some years after her alcoholic father dies, Sonny Blake (Rose McGowan), a psychologist with her own radio talk show, moves back into the family home on suburban Rosewood Lane. Her neighbors, she soon discovers, live in fear of the teenage lad who delivers their papers. With good reason: this kid isn't just psychotic, he's probably supernatural. And now he's after Sonny. So -- demon paperboy. Whatever possibilities were to be mined from the idea of a kid who holds an entire neighborhood hostage to his own evil, Salva, who wrote and directed, tosses out like yesterday's news. All he's interested in is how far it's possible to stretch the viewer's credulity. The story is illogical, the characters are doltish, and it all leads exactly nowhere. Yet the trailer's probably not bad. Out of context, some of the scenes have the edge of a decent thriller. But that pesky script keeps getting in the way. Like when Sonny gets tired of having her house broken into and decides to do something about it, and buys a cat. Meow. Or when she calls the cops and a couple of lunkheads with badges show up. Or when a major character vanishes and we're supposed to pretend he never existed. You know, like that. Salva has talent, just not writing talent. +++1/2 Truly horrific tale of one man's unintentional sojourn with an amoral vivisectionist who carries out his terrible experiments far from the public eye on a small island populated by his bizarre, human-like creations. Vivisection, by the way, is surgical experimentation on live animals; Wells doesn't get into the medical details, fortunately, yet manages in other ways to convey the enormity of Moreau's "House of Pain." Meanwhile, as Moreau concedes and our narrator discovers, the good doctor has so far failed to make his alterations stick, and the creatures he creates soon begin to forget their human qualites and revert to their more primitive natures. Wells' message, that mankind isn't so far removed from his animal past as he might think, is confusing and somewhat self-contradictory, but he doesn't spend a lot of time on it, either. This is a full-frontal assault on our civilized sensibilities, and it is reaching, as critics and literary historians have done, to classify it as science fiction; it is horror through and through. It isn't pleasant, but it's worth reading. Adapted several times for film, most notably in 1932 (as Island of Lost Souls), but also, among others, in 1977 and again in 1996. ++ Mostly embarrassing horror comedy with James Lorinz as ex-medical student Jeffrey Franken, whose discovery of a new form of crack that blows users' bodies to pieces comes in handy when his fiancée is torn to bits by a lawnmower. Using parts of dead, drug-using hookers to rebuild her, however, has unintended consequences. Themeless and underwritten, but with a few funny lines, and, thankfully, despite all the exploding bodies, very little blood. Penthouse Pet Patty Mullen plays Franken's betrothed. Louise Lasser has a small part as his mother. Smart, it ain't. |
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