"Before The Exorcist and Rosemary's Baby, there was The Case Against Satan." This is from the blurb on the back of Penguin's 2015 edition of Russell's first novel. It is, for once, an excellent selling point. It's about a Catholic priest, newly assigned to a small-town parish, who discovers that the teenage daughter of a widower may be possessed -- by Satan himself. The evidence for possession is compelling, yet Gregory is a modern priest with contemporary ideas on psychiatry, so for him the case against is equally persuasive. At first. Other than its leap directly to Lucifer, the book has little in common with Ira Levin's Rosemary's Baby; on the other hand, if one didn't know better (and, frankly, one doesn't), one would be tempted to say that William Peter Blatty was quite familiar with this book when he wrote his own story of possession, The Exorcist. The parallels are extensive and fascinating, including the scenes of the exorcism itself. That said, while the two books have much in common, they are very different works. To be clear, this is no Exorcist, but horror fans of the latter should be delighted by this earlier book on the same theme, which is just as serious if not as deep and really almost as explicit -- Russell doesn't pull his punches.
+++1/2
"Before The Exorcist and Rosemary's Baby, there was The Case Against Satan." This is from the blurb on the back of Penguin's 2015 edition of Russell's first novel. It is, for once, an excellent selling point. It's about a Catholic priest, newly assigned to a small-town parish, who discovers that the teenage daughter of a widower may be possessed -- by Satan himself. The evidence for possession is compelling, yet Gregory is a modern priest with contemporary ideas on psychiatry, so for him the case against is equally persuasive. At first. Other than its leap directly to Lucifer, the book has little in common with Ira Levin's Rosemary's Baby; on the other hand, if one didn't know better (and, frankly, one doesn't), one would be tempted to say that William Peter Blatty was quite familiar with this book when he wrote his own story of possession, The Exorcist. The parallels are extensive and fascinating, including the scenes of the exorcism itself. That said, while the two books have much in common, they are very different works. To be clear, this is no Exorcist, but horror fans of the latter should be delighted by this earlier book on the same theme, which is just as serious if not as deep and really almost as explicit -- Russell doesn't pull his punches.
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+++1/2 The people who made The Philadelphia Experiment bought the wrong book (a supposedly factual account written by William L. Moore and Charles Berlitz) when they decided to turn this conspiracy theory into a film. So, instead, they (by way of Moore and Berlitz) simply ripped off a whopping chunk of the better choice -- this book, Thin Air. The echoes are so distinct in the first part of the book that to read it is to be constantly reminded of the film. But Thin Air came first, and it is superior to the film and its second-hand plagiarism. Fictionalizing the fiction, Simpson and Burger start with the so-called Philadelphia Experiment -- a Navy experiment in invisibility that actually worked, but which included painful and even fatal side-effects for the crew aboard the target vessel -- then expand it even further into the realm of science fiction by supposing that work on the project never ended. The story is built around a present-day Naval investigator, who is sucked into the case by an old girlfriend's husband's dreams of screaming men and a ship that disappears from one Navy yard only to briefly reappear in another. It's all plot (except for the de rigueur romance) -- plot and mystery (the first half), plot and action (the second). But it's fast-paced and well done, weakened only by an all-too-typical group of bad guys who turn out not to be nearly so clever or competent as their decades-long cover-up would reasonably indicate. On the other hand, Hammond, the Navy man, isn't James Bond, either, and that's refreshing. A smooth blend of suspense, science fiction, and even horror, with something as well for conspiracy and military buffs. +++1/2 Surprisingly funny gender-switch film in which a magical Indian idol swaps the identities of a bickering husband and wife (John Hubbard and Carole Landis) when their latest argument ends with them agreeing on one thing: each would rather live the life of the other. Starts out as an ordinary comedy, wisely taking its time getting to the transference so as to set up a host of later jokes and situations. None of which, let it be known, are introspective: the comedy here is strictly confined to the reversal of traditional gender roles. Its one mistake is having the characters retain their original voices, but the movie is so good-natured that this is a minor quibble. With an excellent supporting cast including Adolphe Menjou, Mary Astor, Joyce Compton, Donald Meek, and Yolande Donlan, the latter playing the couple's scorching French maid. Based on the book by Thorne Smith. +++ Entertaining gonzo Western comedy with Cleavon Little set up to fail by a corrupt politician as the first black sheriff of a small frontier town. Funny, for the most part, with a few memorably hilarious moments, such as when a black railroad gang makes their white overseers look positively childish as they trade work songs. Of course, as is to be expected in any broad comedy, the movie has its share of unappealing dead spots as well. Little, however, is personable throughout. With an ending that might have inspired the final moments of the following year's Monty Python and the Holy Grail. Also with Gene Wilder, Harvey Korman, Slim Pickens, Madeline Kahn, and others. +++ Based on the non-fiction book by Carl Bernstein and Bob Woodward, then of The Washington Post, whose investigative reporting was instrumental in bringing the Watergate scandal of President Richard Nixon's administration into public view. Significantly, Jason Robards, playing the Post's executive editor, won an Academy Award (for Best Supporting Actor), while neither Robert Redford (Woodward) nor Dustin Hoffman (Bernstein) was even nominated. This is because this film is strictly a reportorial yarn -- a very well made one, to be sure -- in which the two stars might as well be playing Reporter #1 and Reporter #2. It is so laser focused on uncovering the conspiracy that the conspiracy itself fails to thrill. It's a wonderful advertisement for journalism, but much less successful as a human drama. Yet on its own terms -- that is, as fodder for political and journalism junkies -- it works. +++ If this film didn't star Steve McQueen; if it didn't open with a silly -- but catchy -- Burt Bacharach tune (lyrics by Mack David); if it weren't just clever enough to distract us from the monster's Achilles heel by giving us another plausible reason why the Blob doesn't kill McQueen and his girlfriend when it has the chance; if its brand of nostalgia weren't so hard to come by -- you know, the honest if not the trendy kind, where kids rebel but still love their parents and siblings; and if it didn't occasionally succeed in horrifying the more helpfully imaginative members of its audience; if it weren't for these things, this slack and often awkward movie wouldn't be nearly as fun as it is. Old man unwisely pokes a meteorite, the gooey contents of which seize his hand and begin to eat him up. McQueen and his girlfriend (Aneta Corsaut, later to become one of Sheriff Andy Taylor's potential brides in The Andy Griffith Show), haul the geezer to the town doctor, unwittingly feeding it a couple more bodies, whereupon the kids decide they must warn an unbelieving town of the gelatinous monster from space. Followed 14 years later by a sequel, Beware! The Blob, directed by Larry Hagman, and remade in 1988 as a film starring Kevin Dillon and Shawnee Smith. +++1/2 One of Hammer's best horror films, starring Peter Cushing and real-life identical twins Mary and Madeleine Collinson. Cushing plays Gustav Weil, a zealous witch-finder seemingly determined to rid Central Europe of pretty young girls by burning them at the stake. Enter his orphaned nieces -- both young, both pretty -- one of whom so resents his authoritarian ways that she seeks out the local degenerate, Count Karnstein, who promptly turns her into a vampire. Based "on characters created by J. Sheridan Le Fanu" -- which means that Le Fanu's Carmilla, her name here scrambled as Mircalla (Katya Wyeth), is briefly but effectively summoned from Hell to turn Karnstein himself into a vampire. Hough and screenwriter Tudor Gates make good use of the twins motif in a story that is actually more complex and satisfying than most horror films of this type, with several genuinely dramatic moments, as well as a healthy sense of eroticism, particularly in the early going. Cushing gives a fine performance as the stern but ultimately conscientious Gustav, while the Collinson sisters, perfectly suited for their roles (and only a year removed from being Playboy's Plamates of the Month for October 1970), belie their resume of seemingly minor roles in a string of British sexploitation films. The third entry in Hammer's so-called Karnstein Trilogy, after The Vampire Lovers and Lust for a Vampire. +++1/2 Admirable adaptation of W. H. Hudson's novel stars Anthony Perkins as a hate-filled refugee from Caracas, Venezuela, whose search for the gold he needs to bankroll his return and revenge leads him to a forbidden forest where he meets a strange, beautiful woman. Screenwriter Dorothy Kingsley takes a throwaway lie of convenience told by the man in the book (about the gold), makes it true, and then uses it to motivate all his early actions. Did we say this was an "admirable" adaptation? Oh, yes -- inspired, even. It's no longer quite the same story, but it is a more than reasonable version of it, for film. Much of the novel was unfilmable anyway: its long interior monologues, for instance, and not least the ineffable beauty of the woman. Her name is Rima and she is played here by Audrey Hepburn, herself a more than reasonable version of her literary counterpart. What remains -- and quite a bit remains -- captures the essence of the essence of Hudson's story: a tantalizing romance -- not a "romance of the tropical forest," as Hudson wrote, but one yet between harsh reality and unsullied innocence. Several of the best scenes in the book also survive; there is humor, excitement, and some wonderful dialogue. And, finally, a different ending. +++ NFL quarterback (Warren Beatty) gets second chance in the body of another man after he is mistakenly whisked to the afterlife before his time. He also falls in love. Like a rom-com for guys: sweet, pleasing, but uncommitted to either storyline. Still, not a bad choice for date night. With Julie Christie, Buck Henry, James Mason, Charles Grodin, and Dyan Cannon. No relation, despite the heavenly connection, with the 1943 film of the same name. This is instead a remake of 1941's Here Comes Mr. Jordan. +++ The Coen brothers weren't going to improve on the original adaptation of Charles Portis' book, the wonderful 1969 film starring Kim Darby and John Wayne. They just weren't. But perhaps they thought it was worth updating anyway, both to give it a little more realism and to restore the hard truths of the novel. Well, it is grittier, and it does end the way the book did; otherwise, it's the same thing, only less entertaining. Precocious fourteen-year-old Mattie Ross (Hailee Steinfeld) hires trigger-happy Federal Marshall Rooster Cogburn (Jeff Bridges) to track the man who killed her father, figuring either to kill him or bring him back to face justice. They're joined by a brash young Texas Ranger (Matt Damon) who is after the same man for an entirely different murder. The first time we hear Cogburn, he's in an outhouse. There's nothing wrong with that -- except that it warns us that realism isn't necessarily a virtue. Bridges speaks as though he still has the memory of marbles in his mouth, and Damon, after nearly having his tongue severed, speaks pretty much as he did before. Steinfeld just talks a lot. They all speak in the formalized way of the characters in the novel, as if the Coen brothers failed to realize that what made sense for a book written in Mattie's voice didn't make so much sense for a movie with actors playing the individual parts. For all that, this isn't a bad movie -- it retains some of the humor of the original and the book on which it's based, and the story itself is good -- but the drearier tone combined with characters who aren't as likable make it noticeably less enjoyable. |
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