JCVD-A-THON: Hard Target (1993)

“Hard Target” was the first Jean-Claude Van Damme movie I ever saw. Considering how much I love cheesy action cinema now, you might be surprised to read that I was slow to embrace this particular style. At the time, I was more familiar with John Woo than JCVD, as I had seen “A Better Tomorrow,” “The Killer,” and “Face/Off” a while before. When originally released, “Hard Target” was considered a disappointment, perceived as inferior to Woo’s Hong Kong work. In the years since, it’s become a beloved cult classic, a lovably giddy example of over-the-top action cheese. Van Damme brought Woo to the West and Woo brought out the best in Van Damme.

Nat Binder comes to New Orleans, looking for her estranged father. She finds out he’s homeless and missing. A dead body turns up soon enough. Nat meets Chance Bourdreaux, a former merchant Marine and martial arts expert who is living homeless in Cajun country. Together, the two uncover that Nat’s dad was the victim of a covert operation. Millionaires pay Fouchan and his henchman Van Cliff for a chance to hunt homeless vets through the countryside. Chance and Nat have made themselves targets for the killers for hire. But Chance is the Most Dangerous Game and he’s determined to bring down the twisted operation.

I’m not saying that Van Damme’s previous films were poorly directed. However, the kind of mid-budget action flicks he usually starred in didn’t have someone like John Woo behind the camera. Woo’s camera work establishes a sense of kinetic energy early on. In the opening minutes, we get an arrow’s perspective as it flies through the air. Woo frequently uses a combination of close-ups, quick cutting, and slow motion to emphasize each blow for maximum impact. More then ever before, the audience feels the raw power of Van Damme’s kicks. Each massive explosion is a bold exclamation point. Each bullet lands with a bloody crash. Woo’s direction makes such a strong statement that “Hard Target” truthfully belongs more to him then to its star. (Universal Studios kept Sam Raimi on set, in case Woo’s shaky English had him abandoning the film. It’s easy to see why Raimi and Woo are mutual fans of each other.)

This almost seems to be by design. The director originally sought Kurt Russell for the part of Chance Bourdreaux. You can still see signs of Russell’s low-key, cowboy toughness in the character. Van Damme has actually been emoting more in his recent movies, with the sappy emotion of “Lionheart,” the humor of “Double Impact,” and the slow humanization in “Universe Soldier.” Chance Bourdreaux doesn’t have time for any of that. He’s a stoic, heroic bad ass of few words. Yet Van Damme’s physicality still takes him a long way. He’s gotten better at saying a lot with a little. A head tilt or a hushed line reading is enough to establish Chance’s inner life. As far as kicking ass and taking names go, he’s more then capable of that too.

That “Hard Target” focuses on action over anything else isn’t a problem. Van Damme kicking a guy through a storefront and dropping someone on a car is only the beginning. Quite a lot of time is devoted to establishing the human hunting ring, as well as Chance and Nat’s relationship. About an hour passes before “Hard Target” cuts loose. Then the film never slows down. Van Damme twirls and shoots the bad guys before spin-kicking someone off a motorcycle. He then surfs atop that motorcycle while firing a gun, leaps off the cycle over a truck, and then blasts the truck before both it and the bike explode in a huge fireball. The finale takes place in a warehouse full of old Mardi Gras floats, a great location. Van Damme kicks a can of gas into the air before shotgunning it. He swings on a rope, somersaults through open flames, and duel wields pistols. Bad guys flip head over heels and are shotgunned across the room. Sparks, shattered glass, bloody squibs, and doves are everywhere. Despite the heavy gun play, there’s still plenty of room for Jean-Claude’s trademark high kicks. In other words, “Hard Target” is so awesome that the scene where Van Damme punches out a snake is one of the least outrageous moments. It’s glorious.

Matching the beautifully over-the-top action is a pair of wonderfully over-the-top villains. Lance Henriksen brings all of his gravely gravitas to the part of Fouchan. Henriksen barks viciously. He shoots down his own men, dissatisfied with their performances. When not murdering homeless veterans, he lounges in a swanky mansion and plays on a piano. Fouchan is evil as hell and what makes that worst is how casual he is about it. He’s a businessman, out to maximize profit, and sees Chance’s resistance more as an inconvenience. Henriksen’s best moment is when his jacket catches on fire amid the last act’s pyrotechnics, an unplanned moment. Lance never breaks character and tosses off the burning coat while continuing his dialogue. Awesome. Backing Lance up is Arnold Voosloo as Van Cliff, Fouchan’s equally psychotic main henchman. Van Cliff has no problem machine gunning a street full of innocent by-standers and happily accepts Chance as a worthy adversary.

Did I mention that “Hard Target” also features Wilford Brimley as a Cajun cowboy? Who explodes a moonshine still with an arrow, setting off a bomb that also murders some bad dudes? Of course, Brimley’s attempts at a Cajun accent are ridiculous but it’s hard to care when he does the above. Brimley’s few scenes with Van Damme feature some solid back-and-forth. Yancy Butler co-stars as Nat. Butler is alright in the early scenes, when she’s digging up the information about her missing father. However, once the action starts, she becomes little more then a prop, tossed around by the heroes and the villains. Her sole action beat involves shooting a guy in the balls, after which she spontaneously cries. This is not dissimilar to the roles women usually play in John Woo movies.

“The Most Dangerous Game” story arc was well-trotted ground by the time “Hard Target” came along. “Surviving the Game,” another ramped up version of the same story, would come along the next year. “Hard Target” is actually deliberately paced, as it’s about an hour before the film explodes into amazing action. These early scenes focus again and again on the prey being homeless veterans and the hunters being rich guys. This makes it clear that “Hard Target” literalizes how the rich prey on the poor. How the system throws away its soldiers after using them up. By setting its story in New Orleans, “Hard Target” also draws on a sense of Americana. The dilapidated back allies of the city, above ground cemeteries, the Cajun accents, and the retired Marti Gras floats establish a keen sense of place. Despite being directed by a Chinese man and starring a Belgian, “Hard Target” still feels like a definitively American story, about the class struggles and locations of this country.

During filming, Woo and Van Damme reportedly worked together well. After filming wrapped though, JCVD re-edited the movie without the filmmaker’s involvement. Apparantly, John Woo’s originally cut focused more on Lance Henriksen’s villain. Van Damme – not incorrectly – believed people would come to this movie to see him, not Lance. Before this, the MPAA forced the director to submit the movie six times before the commercially dreaded NC-17 rating was resended. Woo’s two hour-plus director’s cut has never been officially released but can be easily found on the internet. If you can brave the bootleg quality, you’re greeted with more romance between Chance and Nat, a sweet stunt of a car spinning through the air, and more blood during the action sequences. In either version, “Hard Target” is a classic of hard-hitting, explosive action. And Van Damme’s greasy Jerhi Curl mullet is amazing too. [9/10]

[THE VAN DAMMAGE: 3 outta 5]
[] An Entire Fight, Sans Shirt
[X] Close-Up Screaming
[] Dancing
[X] Jump-Kicks A Guy, Through Something
[X] Performs Either a Split or a Spinning Roundhouse Kick

THE SYLVESTER SEMESTER: Cobra (1986)

If “Commando" is the definitive Arnold Schwarzenegger movie, then “Cobra” is the definitive Sylvester Stallone movie. Here’s an anecdote I’m sure you’ve heard before. Stallone was originally offered the lead in “Beverly Hills Cop.” He would heavily re-write the script, remove all the humor and ramp the action way the fuck up. When the studio rejected his ideas, Stallone reworked many of the ideas into “Cobra.” Elements of Paula Gosling’s novel “A Running Duck” would also be incorporate into the film, though it’s a stretch to call this an adaptation of Gosling’s book. Though “Rambo: First Blood Part II” helmer George P. Cosmatos is credited with directing it, “Cobra” is Stallone’s baby through and through. The film is built upon his odd humor, utter toughness, sweaty machismo, massive action, and disturbing right-wing politics.

Lt. Marion “The Cobra” Cobretti is the toughest cop in the L.A.P.D. A member of the “zombie squad,” he deals with the nastiest criminals in the city with direct, severe prejudice. Cobra’s tactics, which frequently employ his customized pistol and knives, do not make him popular with his police chiefs. Meanwhile, the city is being terrorized by the Night Slasher, a serial killer who violently hacks up his victims and seems to have no patterns. When a supermodel survives being targeted by the killer, Cobra is assigned with protecting her. This becomes more difficult when he discovers that the Night Slasher isn’t one man but an entire cult of axe-wielding psychopaths.

When I reviewed the “Death Wish” movies a few years back, I found myself bracing between the enjoyable campy action of the series and its psychotic political leanings. “Cobra” walks a similar line. The story is essentially a ramped-up remake of “Dirty Harry.” A renegade cop pursues a violent serial killer. The cop sees the system as protecting the criminals and preventing justice. Eventually, he has to go outside the law and murders the bad guy. Cobra is even more single-minded in his pursuit of justice then Harry Callahan and braces against his superiors even more. The Night Slasher is even more violent and deranged then Scorpio. Andy Robison is in both movies but he’s down-graded from villain to pencil-pushing asshole here. Reni Santoni is also in both films, playing a partner named Gonzeles in both! The original “Dirty Harry” at least acknowledged the ambiguities of the situation but “Cobra” doesn’t have time for sissy bullshit like that. It’s hard to believe anyone actually agrees with beliefs like this but “Cobra” is one-hundred percent sincere in its right-wing nut-job-ery. Two of the film's theme songs, “Angel of the City” and “Voice of America’s Sons,” align the psychotic protagonist with working class, blue collar, all-American values. The extreme politics pushes “Cobra” even further into the reaches of camp.

By 1986, the slasher film had become popular and omnipresent enough in pop culture that even films outside the genre began to be influenced by it. The villains of “Cobra” meet in an empty warehouse, clanking axes together. They wear panty-hoses over their faces and wield bladed instruments. The killers chase victims into isolated areas, slashing and stabbing them to death. When the Night Stalker attacks Ingrid in a hospital, the film reminds me a lot of “Visiting Hours,” especially when the killer stabs through a door to get to her or hides under a bed to kill a nurse. Originally, the film was more graphic, received an X rating for its gore, and was drastically cut down from two hours to a sleek 87 minutes. Even in their tourniqueted form, the stalking and killing scenes still create some intensity. Despite its studio backing, the film certainly feels greasy and sleazy enough to be a low budget horror film. (Then again, the film was co-produced by Golan and Globus of the Cannon Group, the leaders in eighties action cheese.)

The villains are some of the most eccentric aspect of the film. The cult espouses a mantra of social Darwinism and seems to cross all genders and boundaries. The one female cop we see is a member of the axe cult and naturally betrays the hero. Considering the only other female characters in the film are either screaming victims or damsels in distress, “Cobra” maintains the eighties action credo of misogyny and exploitation. This is except when the bad guys are portrayed as generic bikers, dressed in leather and decked out in tattoos. The Night Stalker’s philosophy of wiping out the people they see as inferior is only so dissimilar to Cobra’s own beliefs, an irony the film only acknowledges in passing. The leader is played by Brian Thompson, whose voice is so deep and growling it sounds digitally altered. He wields a ridiculous knife, with a spiked knuckle-duster grip, which he spends all his free time sharpening. The goofiness of the blade apparently didn’t bother knife collectors any, as you can buy working reproductions of it. 

Marion Cobretti is a distillation of the Sylvester Stallone Character Type. Despite being a Reaganite-era murder machine who shoots first and asks questions later, Cobra is not a slick movie bad ass. He’s actually kind of a weird dude. He lives alone in his swanky apartment. He cuts up his cold pizza with scissors, swills warm Coors, and keeps his gun in an egg carton. The character gives us a peek into Stallone’s unique ideas of what “cool” is. Cobretti wears aviator glasses, skin tight black muscle shirts, cowboy boots, and usually has an unlit match dangling from his lips. Stallone and Brigitte Nielsen were dating at the time. Yet their scenes together are incredibly awkward. When Ingrid is dousing her French fries in ketchup, Cobra’s idea of romantic banter is skin-crawling. These eccentric elements, such as Gonzeles’ love of junk food and Cobra’s chastising him for it, are the closest things this hunk of cheese has to a heart.

But cut the shit, Rick. What about the action? “Cobra” gives the audience action satisfaction, Jackson. In its opening minutes, a bad guy takes a grocery store hostage. Cobra’s solution to this problem is to throw a knife into the guy’s chest and shoot him six times. When the killers attack Marion in his apartment, we get a moodily directed scene of him punching, tossing and shooting the attackers over the railing. The car chase mid-way through the film is badly hampered by the movie’s re-editing but is still massively entertaining. There’s at least two massive explosions. The vehicles race over hills and curves in the road. The scene climaxes with Cobra’s supped-up car, a 1950s Mercury muscle car with the vanity plate “AWSOM50,” colliding with a boat and cork-screwing through the air. This shit is stupid but cool.

The entire second half of the film is devoted to action. The high-light of the film is when the Night Slasher’s gang corners Cobra and Ingrid at the hotel they’re staying in. A motorcyclist drives through the wall before Sly shoots him with his laser-sight outfitted machine gun. This leads to a massive action scene, where Cobra rides in the back of a pick-up truck, blasting attackers off their bikes. There’s even a brief stop through an orchard, where Cobra kills some more people. Because this is an eighties action flick, it concludes in a factory that seemingly manufactures only sparks and molten ore. Cobra sets a dude on fire before confronting the Night Slasher in psycho-on-psycho combat. The conclusion is grisly and sadistically violent. Stallone impales the villain on a massive hook and pushes him into an oven, while Thompson wails in agony. Holy shit. I told you “Cobra” doesn’t fuck around.

“Cobra” probably isn’t a “good” movie, by any traditional metrics. The story is derivative. The characters are thin and the writing is simplistic. Though never officially released, the complete two-hour cut is out there. Even in that form, I don’t suspect “Cobra” is much different. However, if you have any love for Stallone or eighties action cheese, you’ll find something to enjoy here. I mean, the movie even takes place at Christmas! If only Sly hadn’t kept his shirt on the entire time, denying us a perfect 5 outta 5 Stallownage score. [7/10]

[THE STALLOWNAGE OF SLY: 4 outta 5]
[X] Frank Stallone or Frank Stallone-esque Inspirational Music
[X] Incapacitates or Kills Someone With His Body
[] Shows Off Buffness
[X] Social Outcast [Renegade Cop]
[X] Sweaty, Veiny Yelling

Director Report Card: Sergio Leone (1964)

2. A Fistful of Dollars
Per un pugno di dollari

Spaghetti westerns existed before “A Fistful of Dollars.” However, Sergio Leone’s film re-popularized the western in Italy and around the world, putting a distinctly European stamp on that most American of genres. The film was a massive success in its home country, creating a tidal wave of interest that would make the spaghetti western the primary cinematic export of Italy for the next decade. The film would turn Clint Eastwood into an icon, a new sort of cowboy hero for a new sort of cowboy movie. Though critics dismissed it at the time, eventually the film would be recognized as the achievement it is, launching its director, star, and composer to the heights of respectability.

A stranger rides into town. The Mexican border town of San Miguel is torn apart by two rival gangs. On one side are the Rojos, a family of Mexican banditos who massacres soldiers for their gold. On the other side are the Baxters, led by the town sheriff, who is as dirty as the crooks. Seeing the town decimated by this rivalry, the stranger decides to play both gangs against each other. With his fast gun hand and keen intelligence, he sets about doing just that. However, as he becomes more invested in the innocent townfolks, the Rojos discovers the Man with No Name’s treachery.

By 1964, the traditional western had played itself out. With its white-hat/black-hat values, the genre was seen as out of date and out of touch. Leone wanted to reinvent the western as something edgier and hipper. In hopes of making something cool, the director looked towards who was the king of cool in the early sixties. The credits, with their bold colors, silhouetted shapes, and swinging music, recalls the James Bond series. The attempt is successful as, from the opening credits, it’s evident that “Fistful of Dollars” is a different breed of western. The images of galloping horses, kicked up dust, and shot bad guys diving towards the camera are bold statement to open the film.

And then there’s that Morricone score. Ennio Morricone’s music is so definitively tied with the spaghetti western that it’s hard to separate the two. The mournful, bugle-like trumpets links the music to the past, recognizing the western’s historical roots. The casual, catchy whistle suggests a protagonists that doesn’t worry about the bad guys around and is on-top of things. The insertion of jangly guitars contributes a rougher edge. The final ingredient are the vocals, barely understandable male voices barking sounds. The gruff male choir adds a final layer of macho strength. (When listening to it, I personally hear “We can fight!” but I suspect someone else might hear something else.) The whole thing builds to a crescendo of sweeping adventure that pulls the audience in. It’s incredible.

As the spaghetti western would grow, it would become more common for the films to feature a certain surreal element. It’s something that distinguishes the European westerns from their American counterparts and Eastwood would carry it with him when he started making his own. “A Fistful of Dollars” is set in a practical ghost town. As Clint rides into town, the streets are empty. The buildings are rickety facades standing among miles of desolate desert. The Spanish desert is a different sort of setting then the California back lots previous westerns were filmed on. The funeral bell tones ominously. As the stranger rides down the main street, a dead body on a horse rides pass him. From the earlier scenes, “A Fistful of Dollars” has established a slightly dreamy, off-kilter tone. San Miguel continues to be such a strange place, a hostile town from hell that welcomes no one and functions on violence. It’s an obviously artificial environment, one that further establishes the movie as a comment on the rules of the western.

Another creative decision Leone made in direct response to classic western archetypes is how the movie’s hero acted. Clint Eastwood’s Joe, who became the Man with No Name when the film was belatedly brought to America, is the definitive spaghetti western hero. He’s not the typical white hat western goodie. He tricks people, spending the whole movie playing two sides against each other. He’s motivated mostly by getting paid, making frequent references to the money he’s owed. He goes into a room full of people and shoots everyone unprovoked. When a wounded man tries to get up and run, he shoots him again. He’s a morally ambiguous anti-hero, rougher then the western heroes of years past. This is the mold most every other spaghetti western would follow. The Man with No Name would beget Django, Sabata, Sartana, and countless others. (The character’s actions were so unacceptable in America at the time that, when the movie premiered on TV, a hastily shot prologue was inserted, justifying the stranger’s actions as sanctioned by the law.)

Clint Eastwood was not the filmmaker’s first choice for the lead role. He wasn’t even the tenth. At the time, Eastwood was mostly a television actor, best known for his sidekick role on “Rawhide.” With this role, he saw an oppretunity to break away from his image as a clean-cut leading man. Eastwood helped create the Man with No Name’s look. The grimy stubble, pulled down hat, blunt cigars, and gun-concealing poncho were all Clint’s idea. More then the iconic look, Eastwood’s performance established the character’s style. In the opening minutes, his horse is shot at. In retaliation, he finds the men responsible and blows them away with ease. Before that, he makes subtly threatening, pretty funny banter at the guys. He tells the coffin maker to prepare three caskets and then corrects him to four on the way back. This grants Clint a rare, hard-to-obtain quality: Coolness. And Clint is the king of cool in this movie. He’s smooth, cool, intelligent, and lets his action speak for him.

Despite breaking many of the rules about what a western hero is supposed to do, Eastwood’s Joe is still a good person. As his campaign against both gangs continues, he realizes there are innocents caught in the middle. The only friend Eastwood makes in the film is Silvanito, the inn keeper. Joe is introduced to the film’s female lead when he punches her in the face. Marisol is an innocent mother, her child spending most of the movie crying for her or his father. Both are victims of the crooked gangs. After getting the shit beaten out of him, Joe gets out of town. He could have stayed gone too. But his need to protect the innocents takes him back into town, revealing his secret, compassionate heart. He tells the woman, who he has seemingly no romantic connection to, to high-tail it out of there but has to actively rescue Silvanito. Feel free to read into that all you want.

As an action movie, “A Fistful of Dollars” is far more exciting and dynamic then previous examples of the genre. Like many gunfighters before him, the Man with No Name is the fastest gun in the west. The film revels in his speed, the goons seemingly falling dead to the ground before he even whips his gun out. When barging into a house of bad guys, he viciously guns down the entire lot, spending a stray cat running to safety. Leone imbues his action scenes with a sense of real danger, making them purely exciting for the audience.

“A Fistful of Dollars” is also far more violent then the many westerns that came before. The bad guys gun down a whole fleet of soldiers with a gatling gun. Clint runs a guy through with a machete. After his treachery is made clear, the Rojos beat Joe to a bloody pulp. It’s an extended scene of torture, a story motif Leone would return to repeatedly as well. Joe gets out of this jam by crushing two goons with a comically oversized barrel, the camera lingering on their dead bodies. As the story grows increasingly grim, the camera focuses on the burning buildings and dead bodies. When the stranger rains vengeance down on the villains, they cough up blood and expire in agony. Though relatively tame by modern standards, “A Fistful of Dollars” was like an explosion back in 1964, showing a level of blood and violence unseen in westerns before.

As his career continued, Sergio Leone’s directorial style would continue to evolve. It’s still in its infancy here. Yet Leone’s style gives “A Fistful of Dollars” an energetic feel. His lens is frequently wide. A simple shot of Eastwood exiting the inn is shot with a fluid turn of the camera and takes full advantage of the wide-screen frame. As Joe marches up to meet the bad guy, the focus is on his feet as he steps ahead, looking like a giant advancing over a tiny town. Here, we get the first example of the director’s trademark close-ups on the hard, grizzled faces of his rough and tumble leading men. The Rojos stare in confusion and shock at Joe’s skills. Clint glares from under his hat, his intentions clear from his eyes. Leone’s vibrant style is most noticeable during the action scenes. He attaches the camera to the muzzle of a gatling gun as it fires. In intersecting long shots and close-ups, we see the shots fired and their bloody impact. This is action movie poetry, a dynamism that powers the entire film.

“A Fistful of Dollars” is captivating throughout. In its final minutes though, it builds towards something immensely satisfying and powerful. As in many westerns before and after, the hero marches into town, facing off with the bad guy. However, proving once again that his cleverness is his strongest weapon, Joe outsmarts the hoods. (This moment is so iconic and excellent that you overlook that Ramon easily could have shot him in the head.) The metal plate under the poncho has been referenced and parodied many times. More importantly, it builds on small plot details laid down earlier. During its climax is when “A Fistful of Dollars” graduates from merely good to really friggin’ good.

Though Eastwood is the star of the show, there’s a strong supporting cast backing him up. He has an immediate rapport with Jose Calvo as Silvanito, the inn keeper. Silvanito’s slightly sarcastic but somewhat nervous attitude contrasts nicely with the stranger’s cocksure confidence. Joseph Egger is also memorable as the coffin maker, who plays an increasingly important role as the story goes on. Mostly, it’s the colorful Rojo gang that the audience remembers. Gian Maria Volonte, who would returned throughout the Dollars trilogy, drips with villainous glee as the sadistic Ramon. Antonio Prieto is more serious and calculating as Don Miguel, the leader of the gang. Wolfgang Lukschy as Sheriff Baxter makes it clear very quickly that the sheriff is no better then the thugs he’s fighting. The only cast member truly underserved by the film is Marianne Koch as Marisol. Though Koch is beautiful, the character is an indistinct Madonna archetype, representing the purity of the townsfolk that the hero must protect.

“A Fistful of Dollars” is so good that you even forgive it for being an unofficial adaptation of “Yojimbo.” Akira Kurosawa even liked the movie. So, hey, if you’re going to steal, steal from the best. Though slightly eclipsed by its even more famous sequels, its own iconic status, and hundreds of further rip-offs, “A Fistful of Dollars” more then stands on its own as an excellent yarn, an exciting genre experiment that remains as effective today as it was back in the sixties. [Grade: A-]

SCHWARZENEGGER SWEEPS: Collateral Damage (2002)

“Collateral Damage” is probably better known for the unfortunate circumstances surrounding its release then anything to do with the actual movie. The movie, about a firefighter going after the terrorist responsible for the death of his family, was originally scheduled for October 5th. This normally wouldn’t be a problem except this was October of 2001. Following September 11th, Warner Brothers desperately, suddenly pushed the film’s release date back to February of the next year. Buried in the winter months with very little promotion, it became one of the few genuine flops of Arnold’s career. Over the years, some have wonder what would’ve happen if “Collateral Damage” had been released when originally intended. In the aftermath of that horrible tragedy, wouldn’t it have been cathartic to watch Arnold murder terrorists? Maybe that would have flown in the eighties but not in this millennia. Ultimately, it was too soon, the subject matter was too raw, too close to the heart. Separated a decade from its original release, how does “Collateral Damage” play now?

Gordon Brewster is a happily married firefighter with a young son. He’s an especially brave man, leaping across gaping holes in flaming buildings to rescue people. On a seemingly normal day, a bomb goes off at a hospital, killing a number of people, including Brewster’s wife and son. Consumed by grief and anger, and disappointed by the government’s response, Brewster decides to take the fight to those responsible. He heads to Columbia on the trail of La Lobo, the murderer. Once there, Brewster realizes his mission of revenge is more complex then assumed and not everyone is who they appear to be.

In “End of Days,” Schwarzenegger played a darker character, a more conflicted type then he usually handles. “Collateral Damage” has the star returning to similar territory. The opening scenes of the film are almost too perfect and happy. The filmmaker’s goal is obvious, to make the inevitable lose all the more shocking. When the wife and kid are dead, around the eight minute mark, before the opening credits are even over, it’s expected. What isn’t expected is the movie focusing as much as it does on Gordon’s grief. During these scenes, Arnold’s face is haggard, his expression long. As big as the legendary star is, he seems unusually small. Schwarzenegger – wait for it – actually gives a good performance. He genuinely seems like a man who has lost something. The depression, and the anger, that follows is similarly intense. One of the film’s taglines referred to him as a “man with nothing to loose.” Arnold stretches his abilities as far as he can to fulfill that role. From the perspective of dramatic acting, it might be his best performance.

“Collateral Damage” is also not the low stakes popcorn action flick you might expect. The film deals seriously with the weight of revenge. While in Columbia, Brewster plants a bomb for Perrini, expecting to take him out. At that moment, he spies the villain’s wife and son walking down the street. Arnold dives to save them, afraid of repeating the act he’s avenging. Captured by the terrorists, the film brings up the uncomfortable fact that one man’s heroism is another man’s terrorism. The film’s villain considers himself a freedom fighter. In his quest for justice, Brewster comes dangerously close to becoming what he’s fighting. The movie isn’t afraid to show combat as a dirty, bloody business, two separate guerrilla organization brutally gunning each other down at one point. That a movie starring Arnold Schwarzenegger, an actor not exactly known for picking material with dramatic nuance, would addresses these issues in this way is surprising. And welcomed.

To match the seriousness of the material, “Collateral Damage” is more of a thriller then an action film. During its run time, Arnold never even picks up a gun. The flashiest action scene in the film is a close-quarter struggle with an attacker over an active mine. Instead, the film spends a lot of time showing how Brewster gets into Columbia, faking a passport, sneaking into the city, avoiding detection from the local authorities. A lengthy sequence, which includes a cameo from a typically off-the-wall John Tuturro, has Arnold toiling for a while in a Colombian prison. Once he’s in the jungle, he spends more time running from the various military forces then fighting back. He gets close to his target with subterfuge and trickery. When the explosions come, they’re from home-made bombs planted by the good guy. Arnold’s character is easily captured and held prisoner by the antagonist for a lengthy portion in the middle of the film. All of this is atypical of the star’s usual movies. “Collateral Damage” is well written and paced, functioning as a thriller that keeps the audience surprised.

One of those surprises is the last act. The story returns to the US, Brewster on the trail of Perrini, his wife and kid in tow. It’s at this point that the worm turns, another bomb far closer then expected. Our hero figures it out before anyone else. The exact location of the bomb, and the way the movie reveals it, is effectively surprising. Loyalties are revealed.in a twist that seemed a little cheap at first but I got over it. In its’ final third, “Collateral Damage” turns into an excellent chase flick. There’s a tense chase down an elevator shaft, Arnold and the target kicking at each other among the ladders and cables. The motorcycle aided game of chicken is exciting and I like the way it plays out. The film ends up eating its cake and having it too. The story mostly plays out as a tense thriller but we still get to see Arnold have a face-off with the bad guy, executing him with brute force and home-grown strength.

Supporting Arnold is a decent selection of character actors. Francesca Neri is soft but strong-willed as the main villain’s suffering wife. Cliff Curtis, as said villain, gets some surprising moments of humility and humanity. Elias Koteas plays the FBI agent equally pursuing and assisting Brewster. It’s not Koteas’ deepest performance but he’s fine in the part. John Leguizamo shows up for a thankless role as the villain’s mechanic. It’s a small role, with Leguizamo adding a little comic relief in a mostly fairly grim film. I also couldn’t help but notice Jane Lynch, in a bit part as an unlucky FBI agent.

“Collateral Damage” surprised me. For those you say Arnold is an actor who has never been willing to stretch himself, I suggest they watch this one. Not only is it a strong performance from him but a different sort of movie, a serious thriller with actual political themes on its mind. Yet it still gives Schwarzenegger faithfuls what they want: Namely, Arnold being a badass and taking out the trash. The decision to delay the film’s release was probably a smart one. The immediate aftermath of 9/11 was not the sensitive time to release a film like this, one that plays real world issues for both psychological studying and action movie thrills. In retrospect, it might be one of the hidden gems of Arnold’s long career. [7/10]

[THE SIGNS OF SCHWARZENEGGER: 3 outta 5]
[X] Performs Ridiculous Feat(s) of Strength
[] Says, “I’ll be back.”
[X] Shows Off Buffness
[X] Unnecessarily Violent Opponent Dispatch
[] Wields A Big Gun or Sword With One Arm

Recent Watches: Whiplash (2014)

Every once in a while, something comes out of nowhere. Half a year ago, “Whiplash” or its writer/director Damien Chazelle wasn’t on anybody’s lips. After the film’s explosive premiere at Sundance, it shot to the top of countless critics’ best of list. And now the film is nominated for five Academy Awards and poised to win at least a few of them. The praise is absolutely deserved and “Whiplash” is as explosive as its title suggests. For a film about someone pushing themselves as far as they can go as an artist, Chazelle’s own drive has seemingly taken him from obscurity to the highest level of critical acclaim. No wonder the guy was inspired to make the movie…

Andrew Neyman is a young college student just accepted into a prestigious New York music academy. Neyman’s instrument of choice is the drums and he’s committed to playing them as well as possible. He’s plucked out of the regular jazz band to the JC band by a teacher named Fletcher. Fletcher immediately makes it clear his method of teaching is brutal, as he pelts each of his students with profanity-laced rants. Andrew struggles under Fletcher’s intense methods, always pushing himself to be better, and to meet his outrageous teacher’s standards. An insane battle of wills ensues between the two of them.

Most of the readings I’ve seen of “Whiplash” interpret it as a film about how far people are willing to push themselves to reach greatness. It’s about that, sure. It’s also about J. K. Simmons as the greatest screen villain I’ve seen in a long time or maybe ever. Simmons, a recognizable character actor that is well known to film fans but is probably the Farmers Insurance guy to most people, gets the role of a lifetime here. His first scene, the first in the film, introduces Fletcher as condescending and demeaning. When first around his jazz band, he berates a student to a breakdown, tearing down the kids’ confidence with unrelated comments about his weight. When Andrew first plays drums in Fletcher’s class, the session ends with the kid getting a folding chair thrown at his head and a rant that reduces him to tears. Simmons delivers impassionate rants laced with the most colorful and expressive profanity. His control over his students is absolute. A key sequence has Andrew, along with the other two drummers in the class, practicing all night, Fletcher demanding more and more from them until there’s blood on the drum kit. Simmons is completely compelling and utterly despicable as the most tyrannical teacher ever put to film.

And why does he do it? Why does Fletcher push his students so far that someone’s going to punch him eventually? (Which, of course, happens.) A candid moment has him talking about how he pushes students to their furthest limit, in hopes of finding greatness. His excuse is that those that can’t take it, that break under his abuse, aren’t destined for greatness. A few other scenes show Fletcher acting like a normal human. He gives Andrew a smooth prep touch on his first day. Before a big performance, he’s seen casually chatting with a friend in the hallway. However, it’s all for show. Fletcher is Satanic inside. Before the film’s climax, he makes it absolutely clear that he’s a sadist, determined to break Andrew partially for revenge but mostly because it amuses him. Fletcher is the idea of a teacher taken to its total extreme, a wicked man not interested in fostering young minds but instead in crushing spirits and breaking hearts.

And can Andrew stand up against such a terrifying enemy? Miles Teller, as definitive an up-and-comer as I’ve ever seen, plays Andrew as someone who cuts out everything in his life in pursuit of his art. Long sequences are devoted to him drumming until blisters cover his hands. Blood flies from his fingers and sweat pours from his face. After an all-night practice session, he dips his blood-drenched hands in a pitcher of ice water. He dumps his cute, promising girlfriend because he believes a relationship will distract him from drumming. A day when everything goes wrong climaxes in his car getting smashed by an eighteen wheeler. Andrew pulls himself from the literal smoking wreckage, grabs his sticks, and runs back inside to keep drumming. He keeps going, half his face covered in blood and his hand likely broken. After given an opportunity to walk away from Fletcher’s psychotic rampage, Andrew goes back. It’s a battle now and he’s not giving up. Teller is fantastic in the part. The script isn’t afraid to make Neyman unsympathetic, such as a sequence where he picks a fight with his extended family around the dinner table. You wonder how much of Fletcher is rubbing off on him. If the Academy was less stuffy, Teller probably would have been nominated too.

That battle comes to a head in an utterly intense finale. In what has to be one of the best edited musical sequences in any film, Fletcher invites Andrew to one more performance. This is the vile villain’s final chance to destroy the boy. He fucks with him, having the band play a song the kid doesn’t have sheet music for. What has been an hour-and-thirty of Simmons berating Teller finally becomes a duel. Andrew challenges Fletcher’s authority, meeting his madness head-on. “Whiplash” climaxes in a nine-minute drum solo that is expertly, fantastically edited and directed. Chazelle’s direction is as tight as can be, the editing is at a rocket’s pace, and his more-then-capable cast keeps up with him. What an incredibly intense finale to an incredibly intense movie.

Is “Whiplash” a subversion of the “inspirational teacher” sub-genre that takes the story type to its most perverse extreme? Is it a story about what some people are willing to do to achieve artistic greatness? Or is my take the way to go, that “Whiplash” is a battle between a monstrous teacher and the only student determined enough to best him? Is it a display for an intense, unstoppable performance from an incomparable Simmons? Well, it’s definitely that last one. Either way, “Whiplash” is definitely the most captivating, mind-blowing, breakneck thriller of the year. And it even makes jazz music listenable… [9/10]

Director Report Card: Quentin Tarantino (2009)

8. Inglourious Basterds

“Inglourious Basterds” is a movie Tarantino has talked about making for years now. For years, it was his mysterious World War II epic, named after the more grammatically correct spaghetti combat flick “The Inglorious Bastards.” It was a script he tinkered around with for over a decade and, at one point, was suppose to star Adam Sandler and Arnold Schwarzenegger. At another point, it was going to be a television mini-series. For a long time, I was fairly certain it was never going to actually get made. When Tarantino’s “Inglourious Basterds” finally made it to theaters in 2009, it was preceded by years of hype. How could any movie live up to such anticipation? Apparently it did, as it wound up being the director’s highest grossing film at the time, garnering the most Academy Award nominations of any of his films, and receiving a heaping helping of critical praise.

This is doubly surprising when you consider that “Inglourious Basterds” is a film engineered to play with expectations. The titular squad of bad-ass Nazi killers, plastered all over the trailers and movie posters, are not actually the main characters. They only appear in maybe half of the film. The actual protagonist of “Inglourious Basterds” is Shosanna Dreyfus, the Jewish girl who previously escaped Hans Landa, the notorious Nazi Jew Hunter. The two plots, the Basterds’ campaign of terror against the Germans and Shosanna’s own quest of revenge, exist separately for most of the run time. Even by film’s end, the two never meet. Their stories play out parallel to each other without ever intertwining. Once again, Tarantino is violating one of the first rules of screenwriting with subplots that never meet. However, unlike the split screenplay of “Death Proof,” “Inglourious Basterds” playing with convention works far better.

The film is deliberately paced, balancing impressive moments of suspense before paying them off expertly. The opening sequence, where Landa investigates the farm house, plays out fantastically. The German officer is nothing but civil, charming even. The scene operates on Hitchcock’s First Rule of Suspense: The Bomb Under the Table. The audience knows Shosanna and her family are hiding under the floorboards, even before the director reveals it. The suspense comes from whether Hans Landa knows that and, more importantly, what his reaction will be. Of course, he does know, the character revealing that information as graciously as anything else. Powered by the nervous synth tingle of Charles Bernstein’s score for “The Entity,” the scene builds to a deeply suspenseful climax. Finally, the scene dissolves like ephemeral smoke, Landa laughing into the air. “Inglourious Basterds” impresses right out of the gate.

And it’s a good thing too, since the middle section drags quite a bit. The scenes introducing the Basterds work fairly well. Aldo Raine’s motive establishing monologue worked fantastically in the film’s trailers and works even better in the film. Til Schweiger’s Hugo Stiglitz, with his Samuel L. Jackson provided introduction monologue, certainly makes an impression. Showing Hitler’s reaction to the Basterd’s violence before we see the violence itself is another smart element, mentally stuffing up the characters. After that impressive moment, “Inglourious Basterds” hits a series of bumps. The long scenes of Shosanna meeting Zoller or Michael Fassbender’s Lieutenant Hicox drag. They aren’t without bright moments. Shosanna meeting Landa again for the first time in four years generates some minor suspense. The unexpected appearance of Winston Churchill is a humorous surprise in the latter. Both moments are powered by Tarantino’s trademark dialogue. However, reading Tarantino’s dialogue as subtitles instead of hearing them robs the words of their musical quality. The scene with Hicox and Michael Myers’ General Fenech is loaded down with exposition and plot mechanics. None of those scenes are bad but they lack a certain energy.

The middle act cumulates in a Mexican stand-off in a basement bar. Tarantino usually reverses his Mexican Stand-Offs for the climax. Dropping that sequence in the middle of the movie is somewhat problematic. First off, the build-up is tortuously long. Characters talk endlessly. Attempts by the Basterds to talk with their spy is repeatedly interrupted, first by a drunk soldier on leave and then by a nosy SS officer. The scene winds up coming off as more annoying then suspenseful. When guns are finally drawn and the characters stop talking bullshit, the stand-off picks up speed. The sudden explosion of violence is unexpected, as it cleaves through a large portion of the cast.

That story move is representative of one of the film’s major problems and also, unexpectedly, one of its strength. Spending time developing Lieutenant Hicox and Hugo Stiglitz just to kill them off a few scenes later is frustrating. Why did we invest in these cast members if they weren’t important? From a fan’s perspective, this is frustrating. The coldly, if reasonably, psychotic Stiglitz is fascinating, especially when paired with Til Schweiger’s intense, stare-eyed performance. Michael Fassbender, with his ironic mastery of accents, cuts an impressive figure, like a modern day Errol Flynn. His delivery makes some of the heavier dialogue easy to listen too. So what was Tarantino's purpose in clipping them so soon? Perhaps he was making a point about the wages of war, how any one can die at any minute. Maybe.

Or, maybe, he just cut down a huge story to an only big story. After the self-indulgence of “Death Proof,” “Inglourious Basterds” is one of Tarantino’s most disciplined screenplays. Like most of the director’s work, the film is presented in novel-style chapters. Oddly, there are only six chapters. That doesn’t seem like very much. This is a sprawling story with dozens of characters. There are at least ten Basterds to start with. We only spend time with only four or five of them. Shosanna’s story only details some of her history. We know very little about her relationship with Marcel. Zoller’s plot line could have easily been expanded. It’s easy to see how much was condensed, removed, cut, or whittled down. “Inglourious Basterds” is a pretty good two-and-a-half hour movie that would have been an amazing five hundred page novel, ten hour mini-series, or seventy-volume comic book. Though frustrating on first viewing, this is less of a problem on repeat watches. This isn’t the whole story, nearly a small portion of it. Tarantino is adapt at creating sprawling worlds and this is one of his most involved.

“Inglourious Basterds” is plagued with that stop-and-go pacing until somewhere near the film’s hour point. All plot lines come together during an exhilarating montage set to David Bowie’s “Cat People” theme. A song originally about repressed sexual desire suddenly becomes a ballad about Shosanna’s simmering rage, her revenge finally coming to a head. From there on, “Inglourious Basterds” is electrifying. Aldo and company’s attempt to fit in at the film première is hilarious. Hans tearing through their disguise with his polyglot skills is both hilarious while ramping up the stakes. The bullets, fire and explosion are perfectly executed, the chaos bringing way to silence. The resolution to Zoller and Shosanna’s storyline is shocking but weirdly cathartic, mostly thank to the inspired musical choice of Morricone's "Un Amico." Finally, the film’s final step builds fantastically on what we already know. Raine looking directly into the camera and declaring the film Tarantino’s masterpiece might be a bit presumptuous. But as far as final acts go, “Inglourious Basterds” has got one hell of one.

Another sign that this screenplay is the writer at his most efficient is its thematic element. “Inglourious Basterds” is a film lover’s proposal about film’s importance to history. It’s less a war movie then a war movie. The turning point of the war doesn’t take place on the battle field but in a movie theater. Film itself is position as a literal weapon, a pile of nitrate reels re-purposed as a bomb. The characters discuss movies and directors, mentioning “King Kong,” Emil Jennings, “Sergeant York,” and Leni Riefenstahl. The characters prominently feature an actress and a film critic. A huge portion of the plot revolves around a propaganda film. During the climax, Tarantino visualizes the film’s theme when Shosanna’s mad, cackling face is projected onto a plume of white smoke. Never before has the director so seamlessly merged his love of cinema with his script’s theme.

When released, a predictable wave of controversy greeted “Inglourious Basterds.” Critics questioned the taste of casting Jews as bloody avengers against the Nazis. If meeting genocide with further violence was a smart connection to make. On one level, you wonder if such a response was even on Quentin’s mind. Was he making a movie about World War II that wasn’t a “serious issues” movie but rather a simple exploitation flick? Yet then again, the wages of war and revenge are right there in the script’s DNA. The Basterds mow down Nazis, grim-faced and ruthless. The same way SS Officers mercilessly murdered Jews. Nobody in the film comes out clean. Innocent people die in Shosanna’s fire; soldiers who were just doing their jobs fall at the Basterds’ bullets and blades. The avengers are ultimately no better then the perpetrators. War is ugly business and nobody makes it out without innocent blood on their hands.

Despite its interesting construction and intriguing subtext, the most important thing to come out of “Inglourious Basterd” was Christoph Waltz. Never before has an actor been more suited to a director. Waltz’ ever-loquacious delivery is perfect for the director’s trademark double-stuffed dialogue. Waltz is never tripped up by the words, always delivering them in a razor sharp fashion. It helps that Tarantino wrote such a great character for him. Hans Landa is bound to go down in history as one of cinema’s great villains. Landa never betrays his sinister thoughts, hiding every action behind a smile and likable turn of phrase. He is so charming that, when he cooks up a complicated plot at the end, you half-way want to see it succeed. It’s no surprise that Waltz has quickly become Tarantino’s trademark actor as the two are perfectly suited to one another.

The rest of “Inglourious Basterds’” cast is more mixed. Melanie Laurent impresses as Shosanna, packing a lot of intensity under a glance or a word. Her fear and resentment is balanced on her face. Seeing her reap her revenge is truly satisfying. For a character like Bridget von Hammersmark, a charming, internationally beloved actress, you needed a charming actress. Diane Kruger is more then up to the task, lovely and likable, especially during the bullet extraction scene. Brad Pitt ultimately wins the audience over as Aldo Raine. However, his laughably bad Appalachian accent takes some getting used to. At the very least, Pitt adapts nicely to Tarantino’s style. Speaking of bad accent, Eli Roth’s Bahston accent is embarrassing. Roth is hardly a trained actor to begin with and he stretches his limited range to its breaking point. It would have been nice to see more of B.J. Novak or Omar Doom, as both are entertaining in their limited roles.

“Inglourious Basterds” marks a strong return of the director’s style. Some trademark crash-zooms and tracking shots appear during the “Putting Out the Fire” montage. The sudden appearance of Samuel L. Jackson as a narrator is a great addition and works especially well during Hugo Stigletz’ introductory flashback. I like the quick jumps around in time, like a flash back to a machine gunned Jeep. Tarantino even manages to justify his foot fetish, as a missing shoe is a plot-point. His soundtrack selection is typically excellent, Billy Preston’s “Slaughter” theme especially.

Hugely ambitious, somewhat uneven, but propulsive when it works, “Inglourious Basterds” is a distinctly Tarantino production. Some love it a lot, calling it the director’s best work. I wouldn’t go that far. However, the movie’s best moments are spectacular and unforgettable. [Grade: B+]

MONSTER-MANIA 20: Days 2 and 3

A nerd convention is kind of like the internet. You’re surrounded by like-minded people and all the cool shit related to you’d interests that you’d like to buy or at least look at is available right at your fingers. It was during the second day of Monster-Mania 20 that this really became apparent to me.

The second day was mostly devoted to panels and Q&As. The “Re-Animator” panel was the first of the day. Despite the name, Jonathan Fuller from “Castle Freak” joined Jeffrey Combs and Barbara Crampton on stage. As you’d expect, the questions were centered around “Re-Animator” and “From Beyond,” leaving Fuller mostly out of the conversations. At one point, Barbara Crampton actually turned to him and said, “But maybe Jonathan has something to add.”


Jeffrey Combs has something of a reputation as a dick. While he was never rude or standoffish, during the panel he was working very hard to keep all of the attention on him. To his credit, when his phone rang in the middle of the panel, he shut it off. Despite that, there were still a number of good moments. Combs recalled the perils of eating fake brains and frightening children with his grotesque make-up during the making of “From Beyond,” while Barbara Crampton discussed freezing while covered in slime. One of the most amusing moments came when Combs was frank about how much the new “The Dunwich Horror” sucks, which he was apparently in. And there was a lot of general discussing about working with Stuart Gordon, who I really wish could have been there. Over all, a good panel.

Immediately after that panel ended, the ballroom was flooded by lots of young woman who apparently came to lust after Norman Reedus during the “Walking Dead” panel. I opted out of that one in order to grab a few more celeb signatures. But Tony Todd still wasn’t at his table, so I wound up in the dealer’s room.

“The Prey” ended up being a lot harder movie to find then I thought it would be. Only one booth at the whole con carried it. (While there, I also grabbed the missing movies I need for my Godzilla Report Card. Which I’ll probably never write, considering the speed I go at these days.) But now I do indeed own an actual physical copy of my favorite bad movie and I looked forward to inflicting the banjo filled horrors on my friends as much as possible.


The “Monster Squad” reunion started at four and, with that time quickly approaching, I marched back up stairs. While passing the room where all the “Halloween” guests were located, my traveling partner informed me that John Carpenter was about to go on a coffee break and if I wanted his signature, I better go in there and grab it. So, completely unprepared, I was pushed towards Mr. Carpenter’s table. My nerd brain was completely blank and I could think of nothing interesting or provocative to ask. After stumbling through a short question about what his next project would be, that Carpenter sidewayed into a complaint about the basketball season, I quickly stumbled off with my signed glossy, completely embarrassed. During my ten minutes with maybe the most respected living horror director, all I could say was that “Christine” is really underrated. I’m a disgrace to my uniform. (Carpenter wasn’t rude, by the way, but I think he was really looking forward to that coffee break.)


The “Monster Squad” reunion was definitely the thinnest attended panel I saw, though everyone there was obviously a huge fan. Stephen Macht, otherwise known as Sean’s dad, made it apparent early that he wasn’t really a horror fan and didn’t have very much to say. Ashley Bank and Andre Gower were very talkative though. It’s obvious the two are friends and they have a great back-and-forth. They both had a lot to say about the film, the fandom, the rating’s system, what it’s like being a cult classic, working as a child actor, and the generational aspect of the film. The remake question came up, of course, which would be the first of many times the topic arose that night.


I decided to go back down to the signer’s room. Tony Todd was indeed, finally, at his table. As I waited in the short line, I wasn’t sure what to expect. Considering his often absent status, I thought Mr. Todd might not be very interested in being there and meeting his fan. My concerns were for naught. Tony was by far the nicest guy I meet at Monster-Mania. He was friendly, verbose, and sincere. He shared a great story of how he got the part in the “Night of the Living Dead” remake. Basically, he was in the area and, when he heard the remake was casting, he marched over and explained to Tom Savini how passionate he was about the project and how much he wanted the part. All of this was pantomimed, with me in the part of Savini, and Todd didn’t spare personal space. I explained the subtitles of “Candyman” as I saw it, after which Todd said, “You’re a pretty smart guy. You should be a filmmaker.” I sheepishly mentioned that I am, or am at least trying to be, and the tables completely turned. Suddenly Tony Todd was asking me about my movies and giving me a pep talk about following your passion and not getting discouraged. It was surreal. I come to Baltimore to talk to Tony Todd about his movies and he ends up talking to me about mine. What a genuinely nice guy. I’m definitely a much bigger fan now. He spent a lengthy amount of time with everyone at his table too. This is a guy who obviously enjoys meeting people.

After grabbing some dinner (I highly recommend the Nautilus Diner, by the way.), I made it back to the Mariot for the eight o’clock John Carpenter Q&A. I was always told you should always get to a panel a half an hour early, in order to get good seats. Which I did for the first two panels I was at, which ended up being an unnecessary move. So I figured, obviously, there was no need to get to this panel early. Clearly a lapse in judgment on my behalf, seeing as how Carpenter was the biggest guest there. The room was packed and we ended up with lousy seats way in the back.


Carpenter sure knows his fans. He had the audience eating out of his hands the entire time. Every time he swore or talked about receiving royalty checks for sequels or remakes, the entire crowd erupted in laughter. It was a candid hour with the director, in which he talked at lengths about the classics, the current film climate, his famous friends, and his general attitudes about filmmaking. There was a lot of remake talk, with Carpenter expressing general ambivalence over the subject, as long as he gets paid. (Though he did meet the inevitable Rob Zombie question with a flat “No comment,” which resulted in thunderous applause.) But it wouldn’t be a real dynamite Q&A without some idiots or assholes in the audience. One guy, who was holding a beer the whole time, apparently came all this way, just to ask, and I quote, “What the fuck was up with “Escape from LA?” Because that movie was just fucking shit.” He was immediately booed, since “Escape from LA” rocks of course, and Carpenter dismissed the guy with the middle finger and a nice “Fuck you.” Another guy delivered a rushed, confusing, poorly worded question about the Snake character from “Metal Gear Solid,” which was interpreted by Carpenter as meaning an “Escape from New York” game was in the works. (“I hope they pay me,” was his typical response.) Another guy asked, “What it’s like to work with Tom Savini?” The answer? “I don’t know, I’ve never worked with the guy.” Overall, this was definitely the most entertaining panel of the evening. I don’t know if I’d call J.C. down to Earth but he sure is a great speaker.



This was immediately followed by the “Halloween” reunion. The monitor was obviously getting tired at this point and, honestly, the kid (now adult) who played Tommy and a smattering of random Michael Myers didn’t prove for the best guests. All wasn’t lost though. PJ Soles had a good anecdote about the difference between working with Carpenter and Brian DePalma. Charles Cypher’s obvious dislike of Rick Rosenthal was great. Tommy Lee Wallace had a lot of good stories about the making of “Halloween III,” the initial reaction, and the cult following it’s built up over the years. And thank God for the guy who asked Dick Warlock about “Spaceballs.” He gets bonus points. But the most bizarre questions of the evening goes to the guy who decided it would be fun to ask the “Halloween” cast what their favorite kills from the “Friday the 13th” movies were. “You’ve got the wrong franchise,” the monitor said. Sadly, Tom Atkins was mostly left out of this one. Not a single “Night of the Creeps” question.

And now comes the oddest moment of the whole weekend. While having a private moment in the packed bathroom, I overheard a discussion from the line of guys at the urinals. Dick Warlock step up to do his business, when a sarcastic fan said, “Gee, Mr. Warlock, I know it’s not the best time, but can I get a picture?” He took it in good humor and even followed up with, “Now you can tell all your friends you’ve pissed with Michael Myers.”

The con was definitely winding down by Sunday morning. Much to my surprise, most of the guests and the majority of the vendors were still there. I grabbed “Silent Madness” and “The Town That Dreaded Sundown,” a Godzilla and the “Wolfman’s Got Nards!” t-shirts. By that point though, most of my resources were worn down and there wasn’t much left to do. I walked around and took in one last good look at everything before getting back on the road.

Overall, Monster-Mania 20 was a blast. It was all I had hoped for and more. Meeting with PJ Soles and Tony Todd are memories I think I’ll treasure forever. It was probably the best first con experience I could have. You won’t hear any horror stories from me, no two-hour waits in line, no asshole signers, and no pushy vendors. I can’t wait to get back. How about HorrorFind in Gettysberg next year, readers? That is, unless Monster-Mania gets George Romero or Bruce Campbell. Get to work on that, you guys.