A Retrospective Review By Cesare Augusto Director: ROBERT HILTZIK Starring: Angela – FELISSA ROSE Ricky – JONATHAN TIERSTEN Judy – KAREN FIELDS Paul – CHRISTOPHER COLLET Mel – MIKE KELLIN Meg – KATHERINE KAMHI Most folks close to me should know about my vast love for cinema. I love, or at the very least try to appreciate all genres of film. Westerns, Action, Comedy, Drama, you name it, I dig it, often with great, unbridled enthusiasm. There are, however, certain genres to which I exhibit certain feelings of pickiness or fussiness, mainly towards Horror and Romantic Comedies. This isn’t because if I scare easily at frightening scenes, or if I turn my nose at sugary sweet romantic scenes played for laughs. In fact, I do enjoy the occasional jolting phantom-induced jump scare, and the pivotal true love’s kiss between boy and girl after many hilariously failed attempts at winning her heart. I’m usually hip to those scenes. But what I am not hip to are the lack of believable, compelling characters, and sharp, memorable writing which plague many horror and Rom-Com flicks. Too often I’ve viewed too many within the Horror and Rom-Coms genres that thrust boring, unlikable, or just plain lifeless characters on my face, resulting in a pretty damn lousy movie. For this review, I will forgo Romantic Comedies at the moment and save them for a future analysis. Instead, I will weigh heavily upon Horror, a film category that’s comparatively hit or miss with me. I tend to prefer particular sub-genres within Horror more so than others. For instance, I utterly LOVE Jack Clayton’s The Innocents, which screenwriter Truman Capote brilliantly adapted from the classic horror story “The Turn of the Screw” into one of the most devastatingly beautiful ghost stories ever created. Another terrific picture is John Carpenter’s The Thing. We can’t help but feel trapped along with the ice research team as they face a rampaging alien shape-shifter, and even each other. Both of these films are among my top favorites of the genre, all mainly due to the strengths of their characters. Pity I can’t say the same for some of their genre counterparts. Take, say, the gloriously schlocky and hokey Slasher flick. Of course, nobody goes to see Slashers for their artistic merit. Fans flock to these movies because they enjoy watching hulking, chainsaw-wielding freaks kill scores of attractive, yet horny and air headed teenagers, usually in explicitly graphic ways. The hot naked young people and their subsequent horrible demises are what sell Slashers, I get it. But let’s face facts: they ain’t scary, and have godawful dialogue. They just plain don’t appeal to the film snob in me. Happily, though, there is one Slasher flick that did strike me as unique and damn awesome compared to the rest. It is 1983’s Sleepaway Camp. At first glance, this may appear as a Friday the 13th ripoff. Both movies take place in a summer camp inhibited by teens looking to score with the opposite sex, and one by one the kids are butchered in gory fashion. Sound familiar? Yes, but only in terms of style, and not of contextual message. Friday the 13th proved to be so successful, it saw the inevitable return of series killer Jason Voorhees in countless sequels and even a crossover duel with fellow Slasher icon Freddy Kruger. Box office profits aside, the Friday the 13th saga doesn’t hold a candle to the twisty and inventive uniqueness of Sleepaway Camp. The movie comes well-equipped with strong characters that are realistically consistent with the teenage mindset. We the audience also witness firsthand the cruelty of young bullies and the warped sense of amusement they achieve when inflicting harm on smaller, weaker kids. Now, if you’ve never seen this movie and start to assume that this is nothing more than an afternoon special on steroids, stop right there. Sleepaway Camp is nothing of the sort, neither is it a conventional Slasher flick. In my eyes, it’s an anti-bullying revenge picture with a horror flavored body count and a doozy of a twist! The movie begins innocently enough, with a family vacation on the lake between a father and his son and daughter. The vacation goes horribly wrong after a boat accident kills the father and one of the kids. Flash forward eight years later as two young cousins, Ricky (Jonathan Tierstan) and Angela (Felissa Rose), head to a summer camp excursion, much to their shared dismay. Honestly, who in their right minds actually enjoys going to summer camp? Apparently Angela was the only survivor of the boating accident from years before, and continues to suffer terminal awkwardness to the present day. When they arrive at camp, they barely see any friendly faces. Almost immediately, Angela is besieged a wide array of bullies, from devilish uber-bitch Judy, authoritarian alpha-girl Meg, to a sweaty gang of sexist male pigs. Because of her overwhelming shyness and past trauma, Angela is an easy target for every scumbag imaginable. She even becomes the object of nasty obsession by a perverted fat older cook. The only folks decent enough to sympathize with Angela are Ricky, two well-meaning camp counselors, and Ricky's best friend Paul, who develops a crush on Angela. Before long, a rash of brutal killings descends upon the camp. An unseen figure is stalking Angela’s tormentors, and unleashing hell upon them. And boy, do they have it coming. Now personally, I don’t condone retributive violence, but the amount of abuse they inflect Angela is enough to drive many impressionable folks into homicide. This movie contains probably the most SAVAGE teenage bullying that I’ve witnessed since Brian DePalma’s Carrie. Apropos of nothing, this is still a Slasher flick, with enough camp-themed carnage to tickle any fan’s fancy. One victim is boiled alive in a vat of heated corn-on-the-cob water. Another is stung to death by a swarm of angry bees while sitting on the commode. One “unfortunate” victim (and I use the term “unfortunate” very loosely) meets her end by having a hair-curling iron shoved up her you-know-what. And as a bonus, we’re treated to a Psycho homage by death through shower stabbing! Being a modestly-budgeted B-flick, Sleepaway Camp’s special effects does pale in comparison to its genre fore-bearers, at least by measures of gore. Technically-speaking, the cheap-looking death scenes lack the graphic kick that makes Friday the 13th so notoriously fun. It could be because famous Horror effects wizard Tom Savini wasn’t employed in the crew. But all the killings act as a genuine buildup to the film’s climax, a true shock twist for anyone exploring the film for the first time. (SPOILERS) The movie reveals that Angela is NOT the DAUGHTER of the boating accident from eight years prior, but the surviving SON. The aunt who adopted her (Ricky’s mother) always wanted a daughter of her own, and in her infinite, albeit twisted wisdom, decided to transform her adopted son into the daughter she never had. Enter Angela at her current age as she cradles Paul’s severed head, butcher’s knife in her hand, eyes deranged and mouth wide open, and naked as a jaybird with his/her MALE junk in plain view. If you didn’t suspect Angela of the killings, (and Ricky, as fan theories abound he was in cahoots in the whole affair with his cousin), you’re either naïve as hell or you weren’t paying attention. Sure, it was Angela who did the dirty deeds, but did anyone suspect his/her TRUE deep dark secret? I never saw it coming, and neither did 1983’s audiences, or of any era for that matter! Yes, Sleepaway Camp borrows the template for many previous camping trip of doom Slasher movies. Yes, the acting is horrendous with predictable writing. But that shock ending was anything but predictable. It’s the stuff grimy nightmares are made of. See the original trailer here! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T9K2ARikYzE
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A Retrospective Review By Cesare Augusto Director: Jack Cardiff Starring: Captain Bruce Curry – ROD TAYLOR Sgt Ruffo – JIM BROWN Claire – YVETTE MIMEUX Captain Henline – PETER CARSTEN Dr. Wreid – KENNETH MORE Kataki – BLOKE MODISANE President Ubi – CALVIN LOCKHART “Put the Swastika back on,” growls Captain Bruce Curry (Rod Taylor) to one of the more cruel and sadistic members of his mercenary army. “You’ve earned it!” Color me cautious. But isn’t enlisting the services of an ex-Nazi, well, not a particularly wise choice for a military mission? Such a risky professional oversight is a brick within the multi-layered foundation of the bold and hyper-violent 1968 war thriller Dark of the Sun. On the surface, the film may look like just another big, dumb testosterone-laden action extravaganza. Its original poster alone illustrates a wild kaleidoscope of violent sequences, shirtless male muscular machismo, and other frenetic depictions of action cinema. Even its tagline barks a ferocity fitting for a soldier of fortune recruitment poster: “You don’t kill for women. You don’t kill for diamonds. You kill because you’re paid for it!” Rest, assured, though, that Dark of the Sun is anything but a run-of-the-mill tough guy flick. Director Jack Cardiff takes the audience on a blood-soaked, yet character-enriched roller coaster ride set within the unique and oft-unused backdrop of central Africa. While the film does inevitably ramp up the heroics, gunfights, and explosive sequences, a great chunk of its running time is actually spent exploring its diverse cast of misfit characters. How often does an action movie actually emphasize the inner morality of the professional mercenary, or lack thereof? That’s the beauty of the so-called “guys on a mission” sub-genre of the Action film, which DotS proves to be a prime example. Rather than focusing on one or two heroes on the spotlight, the spotlight is on an entire team, allowing for a multiple study of diverse characters and personalities, which may or may not add an edge to the plot. Other, more popular examples of the “guys on a mission” flick include Kurosawa’s The Seven Samurai and its Western remake, John Sturges’ The Magnificent Seven; Aldrich’s The Dirty Dozen; and many decades later, The Expendables trilogy. DotS was adapted from the novel of the same name originally written by British novelist Wilbur Smith, who specializes in manly tales of derring do set in exotic locales. I have yet to read the film’s original source novel, but after many enthusiastic repeated viewings, I wholly intend to purchase a copy! The novel itself was loosely inspired by actual violent rebel uprisings that plagued the Congo during the early 1960s. Headlining the film’s cast is Australian tough guy actor Rod Taylor as Captain Curry, the seasoned leader of the private mercenary battalion code-named “Striker Blue Force.” Taylor seemed right at home with this type of character: steely, two-fisted, and brutal when necessary, yet dashing and charming. Money was always Curry’s driving force, and judging by his hardened veteran demeanor, he always delivers the goods. Taylor was the quintessential vintage cinematic rogue with a disarming smile in one second, and a murderous snarl while gripping a combat knife in the other. NFL legend (and soon-to-be Blaxpoitation icon) Jim Brown is Ruffo, Curry’s trusty second-in-command. Brown was both hot from the success of his breakout performance in The Dirty Dozen (released a year prior to this film), and recently retired from his professional football career. You can see the hunger in the young Brown’s eyes that he was eager to be a movie star. He nearly loses himself in the role of Ruffo, the Congolese-American soldier with the special vested interest in their newest mission. Just what exactly is their mission, you ask? It’s a complicated one: both Curry and Ruffo are ostensibly hired to lead Striker Blue Force by train deep into the Congo jungle to liberate a village of mostly European immigrants before the marauding Simba rebels destroys them all. It sounds like a standard rescue operation, until their client, Congolese President Ubi (Calvin Lockhart) reveals another, more ulterior motive: they must recover a hidden fortune in diamonds - meant to help stabilize the country’s economy - locked in the village’s time-locked vault. The Force must accomplish this two-fold mission in three days - as President Ubi declares - “To keep the Congo alive!” Rounding out the rest of Striker Blue Force is nervous rookie soldier Surier; alcoholic British doctor Wreid (Kenneth More); loyal officer Kataki (noted South African writer and actor Bloke Modisane); and, most dangerous and volatile of all, former Nazi-turned mercenary Henlein (Peter Carsten). Most “guys on a mission” pictures will include that obligatory wild card character as a key team member. They give the story a much-needed edge if the primary villains aren’t enough to maintain the suspense (Telly Savalas’ unhinged convict “Maggot” from The Dirty Dozen also comes to mind). But Carsten’s Henlein is on a league all his own. The man belts out orders to the team’s African soldiers with a obvious air of “master race” superiority. He also has a gold Swastika proudly pinned to his lapel. Curry can barely contain his naked disgust for Henlein, yet grudgingly accepts the ex-Nazi’s leadership qualities which Ruffo suggests. Sure enough, Henlein succumbs to the temptation of escaping with the team’s objective of retrieving the diamonds, and will take every drastic measure to get his evil hands on them. Speaking of temptations, another object of insatiable desire that further complicates matters is Claire (the ever-wonderful Yvette Mimeux), the beautiful young innocent bystander rescued by the Force. Claire adds a delicate touch of humanity and grace amidst the chaos which surrounds them. Inevitably, she and Curry would fall for each other, adding another spark to Curry’s rivalry with Henlein. Only eight years before, Mimeux and Taylor worked together previously in the 1960 science fiction classic The Time Machine, and here they are, reunited to bring smiles of joy to cult film audiences the world over! The team’s journey becomes nothing short of nightmarish, as expected. They encounter deadly obstacles such as enemy air strikes, Henlein’s increasingly violent tendencies, and the terrifying invading Simbas. Curry and Ruffo struggle to maintain the Force’s morale and to obtain their objectives. But success in achieving their mission becomes more and more uncertain especially when the Simbas come rolling from the jungle. The Simbas’ threatening presence is compounded by their swarming numbers and explosive proclivities to carnage. One particularly nasty sequence involves the Simbas gleefully torturing and murdering innocent hostages, and even implying off-screen rape to women and men alike. There’s no doubt in my mind that such outrageous scenes is what gives DotS its cinematic ahead-of-its-time notoriety among fans and critics alike. All controversy aside, Dark of the Sun packs a considerable artistic wallop that is seldom seen in other similar, more conventional movies. It provides healthy doses of exciting heroics to stir up the action-loving crowd, and shines considerable focus on the characters. Taylor and Brown’s chemistry is surprisingly warm and infectious. Their characters share a strong, almost-brotherly camaraderie as both men dwell on their personal attitudes towards the mission. Curry admits that his laser focus is on their paycheck, whereas Ruffo feels compelled to help his native countrymen remedy their ongoing economic strife. Pride in his roots burns within Ruffo, making him more than just the stereotypical black sidekick. Tension also erupts when distrust over who gets to hold the diamonds on the journey back home begins to brew. The audience may begin to dread if both Curry and Ruffo would come to blows over the precious minerals they were hired to appropriate. There are very little so-called Action movies that bother to create strong, three-dimensional characters at least after the 1960s. Since the advent of the Herculean macho man of the late 70s to early 90s (e.g. of the Schwarzenegger, Stallone, and Willis stripe), a majority of Action flicks are mere spectacle and eye candy. Explosions, gunfights, hand-to-hand combat, cocky one-liners, and even the occasional scantily-clad sexy female were these movies’ selling points to get the butts of audiences from those bygone eras in seats. Don’t get me wrong; I too admittedly enjoy mindless action movies whenever I don’t have the inclination to think. Eventually, I grow bored with those by-the-numbers pictures and wind up yearning for a little more brain stimulation. And then I discovered Dark of the Sun, which offers more, much more. It contains elements of the “guys-on-a-mission”, war, character study, and heist thriller all roled into one damn near perfect movie. It’s solid proof that a thought-provoking manly film can actually exist. See the original trailer here! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9Rf_vulEuSw “Film lovers are sick people…” –
Do you know who made that striking, outrageous observation? François Truffaut. He directed some of the world’s greatest, most viviedly brilliant films ever conceived. The 400 Blows. Breathless. Fahrenheit451. All prolific pictures that stand the test of time as among the Cinema’s best and will forever be discussed among film scholars and pure lovers of this art form. So what in the HELL did he mean by referring film lovers as “sick people”? In a 2014 article on the 30th anniversary of Truffaut’s death in Arts&Culture – The National, it surmises that the French filmmaker classified film lovers as “neurotic” escapists. In his eyes, film enthusiasts are so enthralled by the cinema, that they must so bored or tired of reality, that they find that right kind of release from the drudgery of life through this medium. The article goes on to quote Traffaut as saying, “When you don’t love life, or when life doesn’t give you satisfaction, you go to the movies.” In a way, he’s right. For true cinephiles, what better temporary solution is there to life’s problems than to fly away with the fantasies of the movies? I’ve always been a cinephile. In fact, I’ve loved film so much that I can readily remember significant firsts in my life which involve the cinema. In late 1987, I was four years old when I had my very first movie theater experience. At that age, I was a HUGE fan of the Masters of the Universe television show and collected the entire official action figure set. So my father Len took me to see the Masters of the Universe big-screen adaption. You can imagine just how cool it was for a preschooler to watch the young muscular, mullet-sporting Dolph Lundgren destroy futristic evildoers as He-Man. At age six, I first saw Raiders of the Lost Ark in all its Spielbergian high-adventure glory. I’ll never forget just how epically badass Harrison Ford looked as legendary daredevil archaeologist Indiana Jones. This was THE experience that would forever seal my passion for film. A few years later, I caught the tail end of Dirty Harry with my father beside me once again. My mother Susan forbade me to see the movie in its entirety due to its hyper-violent content. Surely, it was not for a ten-year-old’s young, delicate eyes. Yes, I know; Raiders has some equally graphic violence as well, and I saw that one in kindergarten, for God’s sake! But I digress. I recall the few pivotal seconds leading to the the powerful climactic showdown between two-fisted cop Inspector “Dirty” Harry Callahan and his nemesis, the psychopathic murderer Scorpio. The killer had hijacked a school bus full of innocent kids, and as he stares out the bus’ windows, he sees the dark image of a sunglass-sporting man watching back to the bus. It’s none other than that crazy San Francisco cop Callahan. Minutes later, their gunfight comes to an abrupt crash. Harry has Scorpio in his gun-sights.The way Clint Eastwood scrunched his face with his signature scowl and gave that fearsome growl, “You have to ask yerself one question: ‘Do I feel lucky?’ Well do ya…PUNK?!” Seconds later, Scorpio tries in vain to kill his police pursuer, only to get his chest caved in by a massive .44 magnum-caliber round fired by Harry and “the most powerful handgun in the world.” At the time, it was the most shocking movie climax I had ever laid eyes on, and will forever lead to my personal love for intense, gritty guy films. As you can plainly see, I have an especially deep admiration for classic manly films. Specifically, my preferred favorite film eras lie between the years 1957 to 1982, from the time of the vintage Film Noir movement to the heyday of the testosterone-heavy guns and brawn time of Arnold and Stallone. If the movies are filmed in non-digital 35MM film, and nothing overly computerized and glossy (like a majority of today’s popcorn flicks), I’m sure as hell there to watch them with popcorn and alcoholic libation in both hands! Why do I appreciate these older flicks, you ask? My parents, Len and Susan, certainly helped feed my cinematic passions, simply because they are cinephiles as well. They introduced me to great movies as a child as we all sat around the living room TV and watched a variety of classics ranging from the great musical comedy Singing in the Rain to the gory late-period Akira Kurosawa classic Ran (the blood geysers from that film surprisingly did not react badly to my then seven year old psyche). My dad, in particular, got me started in my vintage tough guy flick passions since he loves those as well. A chip off the old block, I suppose. Now at 37 years of age, I’ve finally started a blog where I can share with the world the great curious intricacies of classic cinema. And it wouldn’t strictly so-called “popular cinema” I’ll be writing about, no sir. Everyone knows how impactful great films are. Most millennials way younger than me should at least know of Casablanca, Gone with the Wind, or at least Alfred Hitchcock’s Psycho, let alone seen them. They are called great films due to their artistic landmark achievements that are ingrained in modern pop culture history. These films are talked about and talked about until the point comes where we are all jaded by their status as “great.” But what about forgotten movies? Those films that only a handful of film buffs would know of, and enthusiastically chat about at the drop of a hat during a party, no matter how geeky they appear? There are some awesome, little-known movies that, for some reason, have faded into obscurity due to a number of reasons: they suffered from low-budgets, or poor early reviews, or little fanfare upon their original releases. Many have been reduced to direct-to-video distribution and never saw the light of box office day. Hence this blog you are reading before you today. This blog is predominately dedicated to forgotten, obscure, and criminally underrated films. You’re probably wondering why would I care about these flicks that, for all intents and purposes, nobody truly gives a shit about. I’ll tell you why: because many of these movies are just DAMN AWESOME. They just have the quirkiest, most insane stories, cast with coolest, hippest old-school character actors and movie stars of bygone eras, filmed with cheap yet neatly-practical special effects that may seem laughable to current audiences used to this CGI-encrusted era of big budget movies. These flicks might not appear to be great to the average mainstream moviegoer, but that’s simply because they’re not used to these vintage films. What I hope to accomplish with my Retrospectives page is to re-introduce these forgotten but not gone film treasures to unsuspecting movie audiences. I highly encourage the younger sets of movie-watching eyes to experience the black magic of vintage, underrated movies. They haven’t lived until they witness the Tojo Studio-produced rubber-suit Godzilla destroy scale models of Tokyo, or Italian Spaghetti Western icon Franco Nero unleash his gatling gun that he keeps hidden in a coffin he drags about in the desert. Non-discriminating viewers should walk away from watching these with great giddiness and joy of watching something out of the ordinary, and out of the box, unlike a vast majority of movies today that the Hollywood studio system insists on dolling out just for bucks. My blog will also dedicate the same homage throwbacks to underrated television programs, musical acts, and other forms of pop culture that have unfairly gone the way of the dodo. But not for long. Not while I’m at the helm of this blog! On a final note: if you’re wondering about the significance of my blog’s name, “Rane’s Hook Retrospectives,” it is an homage to my second favorite film all time, the 1977 Grindhouse crime classic, Rolling Thunder. The film is a grimy revenge piece about shell-shocked Vietnam Veteran Major Charles Rane (William Devane) as he embarks on a vendetta ride against the murderous killers of his ex-wife and child. Major Rane’s bloodlust gets a major boost through the use of a prosthetic hook which replaced his right hand after the aforementioned killers shove his limb through a garbage compactor. Crazy-sounding stuff, huh? Well, if you saw Rolling Thunder and can recognize its old-school action badassery, you will hopefully comprehend its namesake to my throwback blog! Thanks for reading, and stay tuned for some awesome retrospective analyses to great lost pop culture treasures! |
About Yours Truly
Unearthing great forgotten and criminally underrated pop culture mediums is my specialty! Whether the topic be about cinema, television, music, or other fun bits of obscure minutiae, I love analyzing and unleashing these lost treasures to the unwitting public! Archives
October 2020
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