By committing themselves to such a strict routine, the producers of the "Final Destination" series probably limited their options for a long-running franchise. By which I mean there are only so many mass transportation disasters that can occur before it starts to get a little unlikely. Auto accidents happen every day. Plane crashes are a common anxiety. Roller coasters operate on seeming out of control, though they rarely are, and train derailments happen from time to time. A stadium collapse following a massive auto racing wreck in the fourth movie was already starting to push things. Despite that, the 3D gimmick in "The Final Destination" goosed the box office enough to make a fifth entry profitable. Filming on the water is notoriously difficult, elevators aren't very cinematic, and I don't think there's ever been any mass fatalities involving a people mover. Thus, "Final Destination 5" decided on a bridge collapse instead. The sequel was nearly hassled with the far more embarrassing disaster of having a silly title, as this one was briefly called "5nal Destination" during production. To think some marketing exec denied smarmy teenagers everywhere a chance to ask for a ticket to see "Five-anal Destination."
The unlucky Cassandra randomly cursed with the power of foresight this time is Sam, an office peon in the corporate branch of some sort of manufacturing company. Everyone is being sorted onto a bus that day for a team-building exercise. That includes Sam's coworker Peter, Peter's girlfriend Candice, their boss Dennis, Sam's ex Molly, and a few other people. While crossing a busy bridge, high winds cause a catastrophic collapse and result in the brutal deaths of everyone present... Or so Sam sees in a psychic warning. He gets his friends and coworkers off the bridge in time. Unfortunately, their nightmare is only beginning. Once again, as the looming presence of oddly knowledgeable coroner William Bludworth informs them, Death has been cheated. Now, the reaper is out for suitably ironic, unnecessarily elaborate revenge. This time a new way to disrupt the pattern of deaths is presented: Murdering someone before Death gets to you, forcing them into your place.
If taken too seriously, such a parade of horrible deaths and drawn-out build-ups would become too punishing to be much fun. Luckily, "Final Destination 5" keeps its tongue thoroughly in cheek. Perhaps well aware that the 3-D effects last time were subpar, New Line recruited Steve Quale to direct this installment. Quale was James Cameron's second unit guy on "Avatar," presumably making him something of an expert in 3-D filmmaking. The result is a follow-up that utilizes the depth of field much more effectively. The gymnast scene, for one example, cleverly puts the balance bars and pummel horse in the foreground and adds depth to the unfolding Rube Goldberg machine of mayhem behind them. Mostly, Quale and his team delight is thrusting shit right at the viewer. Rebar, sheet metal, a ship mast, meat skewers, an industrial hook, an acupuncture needle, and a friggin' laser beam all come flying right at us. It all gives the impression of being an especially gory theme park attraction, a thrill ride that happy to simulate danger without making us feel too personally attacked.
After the second "Final Destination" made its roster of meat-bags into human beings you could actually care about, the third and fourth installments increasingly didn't give a shit about the innocent victims caught up in Death's design. Part five works a little harder in that regard. David Koechner plays the kind of amusingly vacant dumb-ass you hire David Koechner to play. P.J. Byrne is on a similar level as the dorky, high libidoed Isaac. I'm not sure I was necessarily captivated by Nicholas D'Agosto as Sam, nor his subplot with his girlfriend, but at least he's given the hobby of being a French chief. Miles Fisher – who looks enough like D'Agosto that I thought they were playing brothers – as Peter does get the juiciest character arc, the character driven to the edge of madness by the grief of seeing his girlfriend go splat. The plot point that committing a murder might spare you from death's wrath provides a different angle to what we expect from the last act of these movies. I wouldn't go so far as to say this shift represents any sort of lore, as Death's pattern ultimately remains inescapable and random. It certainly isn't handled with any depth or insight, as Fisher just gets silly as he goes crazier. At least it shakes stuff up a little bit.
The always enchanting stop-motion creature effects of Ray Harryhausen made “The 7th Voyage of Sinbad” into a minor classic of the fantasy genre. It took him a decade and a half to get another film based on this highly franchisable mythological hero made. After “The Golden Voyage of Sinbad” became a box office success in 1973, Columbia decided not to waste any time on getting a follow-up into production. Sam Wanamaker, better known as a Shakespearean actor who had dabbled in directing up to that point, would lead the production. Since “Golden Voyage” wasn't truly a sequel to “7th Voyage,” there was no expectation to link the 1973 film to this newer installment. Patrick Wayne, son of John, would inherit the role of Sinbad the Sailor from John Phillip Law and Kerwin Matthews. No supporting characters, love interests, or cast members would return for “Sinbad and the Eye of the Tiger.” The film had the misfortune of hitting theaters the same summer as “Star Wars,” being easily overshadowed by the pop culture phenomenon. It's still regarded as the weakest of the three “Sinbad” movies Harryhausen worked on but it does have some of his trademark monsters in it, barely justifying me including it in a horror marathon.
Having forgotten the princess he was previously engaged to, Sinbad the Sailor arrives in the city of Charak to seek the hand of Princess Farah in marriage. Instead, he discovers that Prince Kassim, on the night he was to be crowned king, was turned into a baboon by Zenobia, the prince's evil stepmother and a powerful sorceress. Zenobia's plan is to keep Kassim an ape so that her son, Rafi, can inherit the throne. Farah encourages Sinbad and his crew to journey to the island of Casgar, where the great alchemist Malanthius lives. He points them in the direction of Hyperborea, a mythical land located far beyond the frozen north and full of fantastical technology. Malanthius and Dione, his beautiful daughter, join Sinbad on this journey. Zenobia and Rafi, their boat propelled by a eight foot tall golden robot minotaur, are in hot pursuit. Sinbad and his friends will encounter many strange beasts and challenges on this quest.
Harryhausen's previous “Sinbad” films had highly episodic plots, built around the simple premise of a hero journeying from one location to another. There were lots of stops along the way to encounter strange creatures and magical perils that could then be brought to life with Dynamation. Somehow, “Eye of the Tiger” manages to feel more like a series of set pieces than either of the earlier adventures. The plot truly is no more complicated than “we have to head to this location, to un-monkey the prince,” with the bad guys slightly following behind and trying to stop them. Malanthius and his daughter are easily recruited to Sinbad's cause, being convinced to help out largely because the sailor showed up. Much talk is made of the difficulties of navigating the arctic ice on the way to Hyperborea but no one seems to struggle with it that much. The threat of the prince's mind slowly being consumed by baboon instincts, his humanity being lost forever, is the only element truly adding any tension to the story.
This is by design, naturally, in order to highlight Harryhausen's stop motion creations as the real stars of the show. Early in production, the decision was made that this Sinbad adventure would feature fewer fantastical creatures and more prehistorical critters. This, combined with what Ray himself would call a rushed production schedule, results in “Eye of the Tiger” not featuring the effects master's best work. That's not to say that there isn't some extremely impressive, eye-catching special effects here. The dinopithecus-like baboon is highly expressive, showing life-like movements and expressing a lot of emotion in its eyes. The oversized walrus is similarly impressive in how it moves. A hawk-sized wasp is probably the scariest threat in the film, an insect right out of a nightmare. However, the fact of the matter is that bigger versions of regular animals aren't as cool as the mythic beasties of the previous films.
The Minoton is probably the most memorable creation in the film, the golden calf robot looking awfully cool. It also contributes little to the story, not doing much besides standing around and looking intimidating, disgracefully exiting the film before the climax. I like the horned troglodyte the crew befriends but it does look and feel a lot like a lesser descendant of the cyclops Harryhausen previously animated. The ghouls that are summoned up are clearly inspired by the skeletons and Selenites of Harryhausen's past hits. The saber-toothed tiger that appears at the end, and presumably provide the title, is a bit too fluffy and stiff to blow the viewer away. Disappointingly, these creations are paired with some deeply underwhelming photographic effects. The scene where the sorceress turns into a seagull features some truly crappy color distortion, while several moments inexplicably spotlight shitty rear projection work.
Another factor holding “Eye of the Tiger” back is its leading man. This film was released the same summer as “The People That Time Forgot,” the two movies representing the brief period when Hollywood was trying to turn Patrick Wayne into a star. It's easy to see why the career of the Duke's second son never truly took of. He is utterly devoid of charisma, blankly delivering all of his dialogue and never having a single spark of chemistry with any of his co-stars. That is notably a problem, as the love story between Sinbad and Jane Seymour's Princess Farah already bordered on the non-existent. Taryn Power, also the child of Old Hollywood royalty, is lovely but only has a molecule more screen presence than her co-star. The fact that both actresses have a very brief nude scene in a G-rated kids' movie proves more notable than their acting. At least Margaret Whiting is a decent villainess and Patrick Troughton hams it up a little as the eccentric old Melanthius.
Ray Harryhausen's stop motion marvels were utter works of art in their own way, few talents matching him in terms of imbuing little puppets with so much life and energy. It was also a style of visual effects inevitably linked to the past. “Sinbad and the Eye of the Tiger” shares a cast member with “Star Wars.” Peter Mayhew, the very tall guy who filed Chewbacca's fur suit, also plays the Minoton any time it's not a stop-motion model. “Star Wars” would, of course, point towards the future of what could be achieved on-screen. Compared to that, “Eye of the Tiger” must have seemed antiquated. The other effects work in the film certainly did the comparison no favors. Hampered by a lumpy script and a blank leading man, this is easily the weakest of the “Sinbad” trilogy and probably the lamest movie Harryhausen was ever involved with. (I'll get back to you on that after I finally watch “The 3 Worlds of Gulliver.”) There's still some of that ol' Dynamotion magic in this one, as held back by other factors as it might be. [6/10]
Having forgotten the princess he was previously engaged to, Sinbad the Sailor arrives in the city of Charak to seek the hand of Princess Farah in marriage. Instead, he discovers that Prince Kassim, on the night he was to be crowned king, was turned into a baboon by Zenobia, the prince's evil stepmother and a powerful sorceress. Zenobia's plan is to keep Kassim an ape so that her son, Rafi, can inherit the throne. Farah encourages Sinbad and his crew to journey to the island of Casgar, where the great alchemist Malanthius lives. He points them in the direction of Hyperborea, a mythical land located far beyond the frozen north and full of fantastical technology. Malanthius and Dione, his beautiful daughter, join Sinbad on this journey. Zenobia and Rafi, their boat propelled by a eight foot tall golden robot minotaur, are in hot pursuit. Sinbad and his friends will encounter many strange beasts and challenges on this quest.
This is by design, naturally, in order to highlight Harryhausen's stop motion creations as the real stars of the show. Early in production, the decision was made that this Sinbad adventure would feature fewer fantastical creatures and more prehistorical critters. This, combined with what Ray himself would call a rushed production schedule, results in “Eye of the Tiger” not featuring the effects master's best work. That's not to say that there isn't some extremely impressive, eye-catching special effects here. The dinopithecus-like baboon is highly expressive, showing life-like movements and expressing a lot of emotion in its eyes. The oversized walrus is similarly impressive in how it moves. A hawk-sized wasp is probably the scariest threat in the film, an insect right out of a nightmare. However, the fact of the matter is that bigger versions of regular animals aren't as cool as the mythic beasties of the previous films.
Another factor holding “Eye of the Tiger” back is its leading man. This film was released the same summer as “The People That Time Forgot,” the two movies representing the brief period when Hollywood was trying to turn Patrick Wayne into a star. It's easy to see why the career of the Duke's second son never truly took of. He is utterly devoid of charisma, blankly delivering all of his dialogue and never having a single spark of chemistry with any of his co-stars. That is notably a problem, as the love story between Sinbad and Jane Seymour's Princess Farah already bordered on the non-existent. Taryn Power, also the child of Old Hollywood royalty, is lovely but only has a molecule more screen presence than her co-star. The fact that both actresses have a very brief nude scene in a G-rated kids' movie proves more notable than their acting. At least Margaret Whiting is a decent villainess and Patrick Troughton hams it up a little as the eccentric old Melanthius.
Playing the Bride of Frankenstein turned Elsa Lanchester into an iconic image of horror but it didn't make her the female Boris Karloff. Later in her career, however, she got a few more spooky roles. Such as “Green Fingers,” a season two highlight of “Night Gallery.” Industrialist Michael Saunders has bought a massive plot of land for his next factory. The only hold-out, right in the middle, is little old lady Lydia Bowen. She refuses to part with her simple country cottage, no matter how high the asking price soars. Lydia is too invested in the garden she's planted, claiming she has “green fingers” and can make anything grow. When Saunders himself can't convince her, he hires a tough guy to threaten the woman into moving. The hit man breaks in and chops off her fingers, threatening to return and remove more each time. Lydia is rushed to the hospital and dies of shock shortly afterwards. Saunders is satisfied that the land is his now... But he didn't anticipate how literal Lydia was being when she said she could make anything buried in the soil grow.
For this one, Rod Serling adapted an ironic, twisted little story by R.C. Cook into something more akin to an E.C. Comics horror story. This is a classical morality tale: Mr. Saunders only has eyes on expanding his empire, thinking money is the only thing that talks and everything else is the bullshit that walks. Lydia believes in something more than the dollar, frustrating and baffling the businessman to the point that he pays to have her wiped out. There's an ecological layer too. Saunders notes that his latest factory will feature multiple smoke stacks, presumably pumping polluting smug into the sky. Lydia notes that the construction team has already flattened a hill in the distance. She has an appreciation for the simple things, for the flowers and vegetables that grow out of the ground. The world of industry, concerned only with profit and indifferent to ruining the natural world, is brought low by those same simple green things in the soil. If only it worked that way more often in our world.
After giving writing a try in the previous episode, Morticia is still feeling unfulfilled in her life as a mother and wife. She decides to pursue another creative endeavor: Picking up the hammer and chisel and carving rocks into sculptures. As you might expect, her art works are of an unusual nature. She starts to fill the Addams' home with big rocks in weird shapes, claiming each one represents an abstract concept. The critics are aghast but Gomez pays Sam Picasso – Grandmama's painting tutor from “Art and the Addams Family" – to buy the stones. As it did in the previous episode, Morticia's new hobby takes over her life, leaving her husband alone and increasingly frustrated.
Yes, “Morticia the Sculptress” has almost the exact same structure as “Morticia the Writer.” Thankfully, this one doesn't have Gomez outright sabotaging his wife's new career. Instead, he simply begs her to give up something she enjoys and is passionate about so they can have more sex. He doesn't frame it that way exactly, though references to Morticia being “a lover” as her most important role and a husband being left “uncuddled” were probably still kind of spicy for 1965. Eventually, Morticia is dissuaded from being a full-time sculptress when her children make themselves chocolate fudge for a meal. I guess, as much as the Addams rejected the societal norms of the times, this was still a sixties sitcom. A woman staying out of the kitchen or the bedroom was still a cause for crisis. Her efforts to define herself by any other role were destined to be mocked. Don't worry, Morticia, second-wave feminism was right around the corner.
No comments:
Post a Comment