Halloween 2024: September 15th

J.D.'s Revenge (1976)

Back in March, we lost prolific character actor Louis Gossett Jr. Gossett, of course, was best known for being the first black man to win an Oscar in the Best Supporting Actor category. However, Gossett was also the kind of actor who was clearly happy to be working, appearing in projects of wildly varying levels of prestige over his long career. Sometimes, this meant roles in critically acclaimed projects like "An Officer and a Gentleman" or "Roots." More often, it meant undistinguished schlock like "Bram Stoker's The Mummy," "Firewalker," "Delgo," and a string of "Iron Eagle" sequels. Despite that, and probably because the height of his fame came after the seventies ended, Gossett only appeared in one proper blaxploitation movie. Luckily for the purpose of this marathon, it happens to be part of the short-lived trend of blaxploitation horror. In fact, I'd say 1976's "J.D.'s Revenge" is among the most underrated of this particular niche. 

Ike is a modern black man in 1970s New Orleans, studying to become a lawyer while working a day job as a cab driver. He shares a loving relationship with his wife, Christella. While out on the town with some friends, Ike is hypnotized as part of a nightclub act. Afterwards, something strange happens. Ike suffers from headaches and wild personality shifts, performing violent acts he has no memory of. He assumes the persona of J.D. Walker, a small time gangster who died under mysterious circumstances in the forties. Walker's unhinged spirit has possessed Ike's body, determined to take revenge on the men who seemingly murdered him: Elijah Bliss, a boxer turned gospel preacher, and his shady brother, Theotis. Can Christella unravel this mystery before her man is forced to do something terrible? 

Like all blaxploitation films, "J.D.'s Revenge" is beholden to the social ills of the decade in which it was made. Instead of concerning a black hero rebelling against white authority, it grapples with what it meant to be a black man in the seventies. Ike plays football, has a ridiculously deep voice, and wears disco suits in the evenings. He's also a sensitive intellectual, more thoughtful than his crass friends. He also turns down sex from his wife, something you can't imagine Shaft or Slaughter ever doing. J.D. Walker, meanwhile, was a violent sociopath. While under control of J.D., Ike terrorizes a rich white woman in his cab and has rough sex with Christella that borders on assault. It's hard to say if "J.D.'s Revenge" is merely doing a riff on a split personality story, Ike's braininess simply meant to contrast with J.D.'s brutal nature, or if it's actually commenting on the perspective of black masculinity at the time. 

Ike's possession is obviously a bad thing. There's also an uncomfortable sense that J.D.'s violent actions and forceful sexuality makes him more of a "man" than his calmer host. Like most blaxploitation movies, "J.D.'s Revenge" doesn't treat women the best. Christella's ambiguous assault is simply something that happens. The racist stereotype of black men hitting their wives is also invoked. This was the penultimate blaxploitation flick for director Arthur Marks. As in Marks' previous entries in the genre, "Friday Foster" and "Bucktown," the film flirts with a deeper social commentary without committing to it. Whether "J.D.'s Revenge" is concluding that it's good that black men are no longer defined by violence, greed, and sexual exploitation or if it's merely a half-assed, funk-infused version of "Straw Dogs," is hard to say. The subplot of a boxer leaving his bloody past behind to become a preacher at least suggests the former, even if the film is treating gospel ministry as a somewhat insincere act.

Despite its shaky attempts at serious themes, "J.D.'s Revenge" is still an effective horror movie. It helps that the film is not merely an urban update on a familiar monster story. It's not about a black Dracula, a black Frankenstein, a black Dr. Jekyll, or a black Linda Blair. Its ideas of loss of identity to a violent, spectral intruder are more unsettling. The film makes us familiar enough with Ike that whenever J.D. assumes control, the shift is sudden. The violence is intense and frenzied. The scene of Ike terrorizing the woman in the cab is especially unhinged. The sexual violence is depicted in an disturbing fashion, focused on the performers' faces as Christella's mixture of terror and arousal grows and Ike/J.D.'s lust reaches beastly levels. Disturbing moments like these are accentuated by aggressive, almost dream-like editing choices. There are frequent cuts away to a butcher shop, animal flesh chopped up and bled. Flashbacks to J.D.'s final moments are also common, a slashed throat repeatedly playing out in slow motion. By the time J.D.'s laughing, wicked face is staring at Ike from a mirror, the film has successfully captured a feverish tone. 

The movie's violence and twisted editing collide with another unavoidable factor in these movies: Unintentional camp. Like most blaxploitation films, "J.D.'s Revenge" was made by white filmmakers, resulting in a warped perspective of black culture. The script is rich with amusingly goofy "street" slang. It goes without saying that the film is absolutely filled with dated fashion,  with enough polyester to fill a warehouse. This is meant to contrast against the zoot suits, wide brimmed hats, and greased hair of J.D.'s era. In effect, both seem like relics of equally bygone decades. The performances are silly and overheated. Glynn Turman never seems entirely comfortable as Ike. His reverberating voice is especially at odds with what is supposed to be a nerdy character. David McKnight goes wildly over-the-top as J.D. This results in Turman playing the possessed state in a totally overheated fashion. Gossett adapts the exaggerated swagger you associate with a preacher of this type, making those scenes hilarious too. Nestled in-between all this sweaty overacting are moments of nuance. Gossett is actually really good in the quieter scenes with his brother, suggesting the pastor act is a put-on. Joan Pringle is similarly sincere, playing a devoted woman who doesn't understand what's happening to the man she loves. 

There's also a love triangle, with Christella's ex-husband still holding a torch for her. This seems to parallel the pregnancies, betrayals, and long lost offspring that are revealed in J.D.'s past. All together, it's a fascinatingly uneven blend of creepy horror and retro camp, of ideas high-minded and lusty. Blaxploitation's mainstream popularity was fast fading by 1976, which might explain why nuttier movies like this were starting to pop up. (Marks did make one final crack at it, with "The Monkey Hustle.") I don't know if "J.D.'s Revenge" comes together into a coherent whole but I sure had fun watching it. It's not as sturdy as "Blacula" or as experimental as "Ganja & Hess" but remains an intriguing fusion nevertheless. By the way, for those that remember the entire month I did devoted to blaxploitation movies and the accompanying checklist of tropes, "J.D.'s Revenge" features all of them except a homophobic caricature and a racist authority figure. We were so close! [8/10] 

Children of the Corn III: Urban Harvest (1995)

While the production company behind "Hellraiser III" and "Children of the Corn II"  rose from the ashes of New World Pictures, both films were distributed by a name that would largely define horror going forward into the nineties: Dimension Films. In fact, the aforementioned titles were the first and third projects Dimension released. And the Weinstein's genre label was very savvy about capitalizing on any hits they had, especially on the then thriving VHS market. "Children of the Corn II" made seven million in theaters, against a 1.3 million budget. Not the worst of returns but it must've done better in video stores. That's where the third entry in this suddenly on-going series, "Children of the Corn III: Urban Harvest," would debut in 1995. James D.B. Hickox – brother of Anthony – was brought in to direct, with effects from monster experts Screaming Mad George and Kevin Yagher. A good pedigree for a direct-to-video horror sequel from the middle nineties but does the film live up to it?

After their father disappears mysteriously, Joshua and his younger brother Eli are adopted by William and Amanda Porter. This moves the boys from Nebraska's corn country to the mean streets of Chicago. Joshua makes friends at school quickly, as well as getting the attention of a girl named Maria. Eli, meanwhile, spends a lot of time in the abandoned warehouse next door, cultivating a strain of hyper-resistant corn. At school, he begins to preach about the immortality of adults and the virtues of He Who Walks Behind the Rows. The boy gathers an entranced following of fellow students, while his strange behavior disturbs Amanda and his teachers. (William, a commodities trader specializing in – you guessed it – corn, is more interested in the hearty maize Eli is growing.) It's not long before the people who challenge Eli start to gruesomely die. After their foster mom perishes in a horrible accident, Joshua starts to realize how dangerous his little brother is.

"Urban Harvest" takes "The Omen" influence shown in the second film further. A spell book from He Who Walks Behind the Rows grants Eli magical powers, which he uses to engineer elaborate deaths for anyone who displeases him. He sometimes speaks with a demonic, reverbed voice. While he maintains the trademarks of this series' villains – preacher clothes, a wide brim hat, an Abrahamic name – the script clearly paints him as an Antichrist-like figure, with the way he antagonizes a priest and subverts Christian imagery. The Satanic chanting on the score is ramped up too. The sequel goes out of its way to make this kid seem as sinister and wicked as possible. In other words, "Children of the Corn III" continues to move away from the roving band of killer kids that defined the original, in favor of a centralized villain with magical powers and devilish vibes. Subsequently, the cult element is lessened, with Eli's followers being more brainwashed thralls than willing participants in organized bloodshed.

You can argue about how "Children of the Corn III" strays from the purity of Stephen King's original premise. At least it has fun doing so. Once you see Screaming Mad George's name in the credits, you know you're in for some wild shit. The film quickly delivers. Within minutes of the opening credits, a man's eyes and mouth are sewn shut by magical forces as he's transformed into a human scarecrow. The cornstalks become deadly tentacles, driving into a homeless man's eyes. Eli enchants a woman's lighter, so she inhales the flame and her face melts like a bloody candle. A head cracks open like an eggshell, cockroaches rushing out. A stalking through the corn rows ends with a surprisingly graphic impaling. Joji Tani's unique talent for gooey, rubbery sequences of body horror is really shown during the movie's best scene: Those pesky cornrows grip a guy's head and pull it off his body, his spinal cord still attached and seemingly stretching to an impossible length. It's creative, surreal bloodshed for sure, appealing to fans of rubber and latex mayhem.

Truthfully, it's Tani's demented monster kid aesthetic that drives the film more than anything else. Not to say that Hickox does a bad job directing the movie. Those shots from the preacher's pulpit are nicely lit. (Though James Hickox is as easily distracted as his brother, the film leaping across multiple subplots.) However, the sequel leans towards the kind of surreal, special effects driven set pieces that reflect Tani's punk rock music video style. Such as a nightmare sequence Amanda has, which features green slime gushing from people's mouth and ends with her being swallowed up by the earth. Or when the movie throws in a homicidal scarecrow. This becomes truly apparent in the last act. After two movies of being portrayed as an ominous cloud or crackling flashes of light, He Who Walks Behind the Rows properly appears on-screen at the film climax... As a giant, multi-tentacled worm monster. The movie descends into total chaos at that point, the eldritch abomination turning on its own followers and rampaging through the single, dark set. When the monster starts swallowing people – the effect looking a lot like Barbie dolls being scooped up by a hand puppet – I knew the sequel had fully committed to its wacky tone of gooey excess. The kind of shitty digital fireballs fit this mood too, more like something that would play on-stage behind a hardcore band than a narrative film.

That's a weakness too though. I honestly admired "Children of the Corn II" taking its story in as many directions as possible. Part three isn't that versatile. The first half mostly draws on standard devil child tropes, of Amanda being freaked out by her new kid's creepy behavior and her husband being clueless. I suppose the main story thread is Joshua and Eli, inseparable at first, growing apart. There's certainly a deeper resonance here, in an older brother drifting away from the younger one as he discovers girls. Ya know, if Eli doubled down on the corn cult shit as a reaction to Joshua ignoring him, that would've been interesting. (Missed opportunity not to name the boys Cain and Abel.) However, Eli is so obviously evil from the beginning that it never works. Moving the story from a rural to an urban setting is certainly an idea. There are some embarrassing black youth stereotypes here, though the film falls short of being "Children of the Corn in Tha Hood." Though the realization that, ya know, there aren't cornfields in Chicago leads to the rather hilarious narrative leap of Eli growing super strong corn in the abandoned warehouse coincidentally next door.

The sequel was actually filmed in 1993, directly after the second one, and sat on a shelf for two years. This suggests that a producer somewhere wasn't happy with the finished product. Maybe releasing the movie direct-to-video was more about burying it than taking advantage of the profitable rental market. However, for the third entry in a series of corn-based horror films, "Urban Harvest" is still probably better than it has to be. Aiming directly for the Fangoria market, those hungry for gory spectacle and campy writing, was likely the best approach. By the way, supposedly among Eli's followers here is a young Charlize Theron in her debut role, though I didn't spot her. I'll live it up to sharper-eyed corn heads than me to find her. [7/10]

Tales to Keep You Awake: The Birthday

Historias para no dormir: El cumpleaños

Obviously, there are lots of horror/thriller anthology shows from English speaking countries. It stands to reason that programs like these exist in other parts of the globe. Humans everywhere like scary stories in bite-sized packages. However, foreign language television isn't often exported. With horror and suspense being niche categories, the "Twilight Zones" of other countries rarely make it over here... There are exceptions though. Before directing cult classics "The House That Screamed" and "Who Can Kill a Child?," Narciso Ibáñez Serrador would create and host the series "Historias para no dormir" – "Tales to Keep You Awake" – for Spanish network Primera Cadena in 1966. The series helped popularize horror in Spain, making Serrador something of a Rod Serling or Hitchcock figure in his home land. The show never made many international waves though. At least not until Severin released it on disc in 2022, finally giving American fans a chance to see these "Tales."

Like many anthologies, "Historias para no dormir" installments were based off stories by well-known authors. Debut episode "El cumpleaños" – "The Birthday" – is from a story by Fredric Brown. It concerns Roberto, a bank teller about to turn fifty years old. He plots to murder his wife of eleven years, for the crimes of being "vulgar" and too organized. After stuffing her body into a wardrobe, he intends to empty a vault at work into a suitcase and flee to South America. As their apartment building will be empty that night, he plans to stab her to death as she stoops over to unlock their door after returning home from dinner. However, there's one thing Roberto's meticulous scheme didn't consider... 

There's almost no dialogue in "The Birthday." Instead, the brief, 18 minute long episode is devoted largely to the protagonist narrating his thoughts. We hear the man consider every aspect of his murderous scheme as he goes about his mundane day. This imbues ordinary objects – a bread knife, a wardrobe, a front door – with sinister connotations. Rafael Navarro's cold, calculating voiceover sees him mocking his coworkers as he waves hello to them or describes the contempt he has for his doting, loving wife. No good reason for his crime is revealed, Roberto planning to kill his wife for the pettiest of motives. It seems murdering his spouse, stealing from his job, and running away to a foreign country is his version of a mid-life crisis. This reveals a frightening truth: We can never know what other people are thinking. Smiling faces can conceal homicidal thoughts. A person who seems friendly and good-natured could be a cold-blooded murderer. We can't truly know, can we?

Navarro is unnerving in the role, his words clearly depicting the character's conceited nature and psychopathic intentions. Alfonso Nieva's cinematography takes us inside the man's head, beginning with a close-up of his opening eye and often centering on the commonplace objects that figure into the plot. Serrador's direction slowly turns the screws, building suspense as we draw closer to the act of violence. When the stabbing arrives, the camera cuts abruptly to the inside of the door, as we watch the man's bloody hand reach for the light switch. This builds and builds towards a twist ending that is so good, I wouldn't dare spoil it. Serrador's lengthy, light-hearted introduction promises to bring the Gothic horror genre into the modern age with this program. "The Birthday" does exactly that, with shadowy photography, a pitch black sense of irony, and a chilling depiction of a modern day sociopath. [8/10]

The Addams Family: Morticia Joins the Ladies League

“Morticia Joins the Ladies League” is one of those episodes with a somewhat misleading title. Yes, the episode does involve the matriarch of the Addams clan attempting to join the local society for women. However, most of this half-hour’s plot is focused on something else entirely. Gomez takes Pugsley to visit an old friend, Oscar Webber. Webber runs a circus that is currently experiencing some troubles, as his star attractions keep changing. While there, Pugsley immediately bonds with Gorgo the Gorilla. In fact, Gorgo becomes so attached to the kid that he follows home. The Addams are happy to take care of Gorgo until Oscar gets back in town, the ape taking on some housekeeping duties. That’s when the B-plot, of Morticia inviting her new Ladies League friends over, circles back around.

“Morticia Joins the Ladies League” is an episode jammed back full of gags. There’s a quick conversation between Gomez and Oscar about the state of his sideshow freaks, fat ladies loosing weight and dwarfs taking height increasing pills. Once Gorgo establishes himself at the Addams home, the episode surprisingly becomes a display for Lurch. See, he quickly gets jealous of the gorilla doing his job for him. Ted Cassidy’s undead grumbles of disapproval or bemused glares are fantastically utilized in these moments. Naturally, these jokes occur alongside the typical “Addams Family” humor, of the family doing torturous things to relax, normies responding in horror to their habits, or Gomez and Morticia spontaneously tangoing. The reveal of Uncle Fester sleeping on a bed of nails still made me chuckle. It must be said that the episode milks the premise of a gorilla waiter for as long as it can.

For fans of classic horror cinema, “Morticia Joins the Ladies League” is notable for another reason. Gorgo is played by George Barrows, an experienced Hollywood stuntman and bit player who donned a gorilla costume across many B-movies and episodes of television. Basically, any time an old TV show needed a gorilla, Barrows was probably in the suit. He played the title role in “Gorilla at Large,” while also getting hairy in titles like “Tarzan and His Mate,” “Black Zoo,” “Hillbillys in a Haunted House,” and “The Ghost in the Invisible Bikini.” Of course, his most iconic role was Ro-Man in “Robot Monster.” Truly, Garrows was a versatile performer. Anyway, “Morticia Joins the Ladies League” is a classic “Addams Family” installment. However, I will criticize the show reusing a joke about Pugsley’s piggy bank from episode two. [7/10]

Halloween 2023: October 9th

House on Haunted Hill (1999)

The idea behind Dark Castle Entertainment was cool, conceptually anyway. Three of the people behind the rightfully beloved “Tales from the Crypt” television series – Robert Zemeckis, Joel Silver, and Gilbert Adler – getting together to remake the films of William Castle probably should've produced something neat. Castle's films are beloved and creative but certainly ripe for reinvention. Unfortunately, not a single one of the Dark Castle productions I've seen have been worthwhile. There's been some attempt to re-evaluate the studio's output in recent years. Among the better regarded of Dark Castle's output is their first movie, the 1999 remake of “House on Haunted Hill.”

Amusement park mogul Steven Price is notorious for playing elaborate pranks on people. His latest scheme is the birthday party for his philandering wife, Evelyn. The location for the get-together is the notoriously haunted Vannacutt Institute. In the thirties, the head of the institute performed horrible experiments on the patients, until they revolted and killed him. The spirits are said to haunt the building still. Yet Price's plan to scare his unfaithful wife to death goes wrong quickly. First off, the people he planned on inviting are instead replaced with other folks. Such as Sara, former secretary, and Eddie, disgraced basketball pro, among others. They are enticed to stay by a million dollar prize if they survive the night. As the building's ghostly residents make themselves known, it's clear that may be more challenging than first assumed.

To be blunt, the remake of “House on Haunted Hill” is a very dumb movie. This is evident very early on. Price is introduced showing a reporter and her cameraman – played, for some reason, by bespectacled pop star Lisa Loeb and Spike from “Buffy the Vampire Slayer” – his latest roller coaster, which includes such unlikely features as an elevator that at appears to be falling and a fake-out involving a car flying off the rails. If that seems improbable, that's before a malevolent haunted house rewrites a guest list and sends out a group e-mail. I guess spirits can access Wi-Fi. Probably in an attempt to replicate the original's twist ending, the script features multiple layers of fraud and betrayal. However, the back-stabbing and deceptions pile up quickly, leaving the viewer confused as to how the hell any of this is supposed to work. This is the kind of script you get when writers are trying to be clever but disregard any sort of internal coherence.

A plot full of implausible twists and silly touches is just one symptom of the faulty screenplay. (Supposedly written by an entity credited as “Dick Beebe.”) Another sign are the largely terrible characters. Nobody in “House on Haunted Hills” exists as more than one-note gimmicks. Price is a greedy, manipulative business mogul. His wife is a cartoonishly bitchy femme fatale. All the cast members introduced at the asylum are even more weakly defined. Each one is introduced by their job descriptions and that's about all the depth they get. Taye Diggs' basketball player has no personality at all. Ali Larter's heroine, Brigette Wilson as the fame-chaser, and Peter Gallagher as the horny guy are all given nothing to work with. You know things are dire when Chris Kataan does double-duty as the movie's comic relief and the guy who croaks all the exposition about the building. Worst yet, all the characters speak in sitcom style quips or profanity-laced, verbal attacks. There's not a single person to root for here. All these people are awful or indistinct.

Aside from occasionally amusing hammy performances from Geoffrey Rush and Famke Janssen, about the only thing 1999's “House on Haunted Hill” has going for it is some clever set design. The exterior of the institute and the main hall, with its distinctive stain glass window, look neat. Yet even this aspect of the film is buried under some comically overdone attempts at scares. William Malone directs so much of the movie as if he's making a Marilyn Manson music video. (Manson is given a prominent needle drop, to make the connection even more blatant.) This is most apparent during a scene where Rush is attacked by the house. Suddenly, there's naked women crouching in a dirty room while blood runs down them, what looks like antiquated dental equipment strapped to people's heads, and pasty-faced ghouls doing the “Jacob's Ladder” head bop. That's a trick Malone repeats multiple times. It's, at best, trite. At worst, it's unintentionally comical, such as when we are greeted to a vision of the evil doctor's ghost dressed as a magician for some reason.

Honestly, for most of “House on Haunted Hill's” run time, I was ready to declare it simply mediocre. As obnoxious as Malone's style is, at least it's a style. Clearly, some money and talent were spent on the production design. I like the little caskets some guns are presented in. And, hey, Jeffrey Combs got a paycheck as the silent mad doctor. Yet, in its last act, the remake piles on some truly atrocious CGI and features one of the dumbest plot points a haunted house movie can rely on: A dead character returning as a helpful ghost. The remake was enough of a success to prompt a few other Dark Castle releases, several of which follow this one's formula of indistinct characters wandering around stylized sets. The studio even included a William Castle style gimmick, in the forms of scratch-off cards included with tickets. Yet any attempt to reclaim this one as an unfairly maligned gem is misguided. Malone's “House on Haunted Hill” replicates none of the charm of the original. [4/10]

Blackenstein (1973)

Some things are inevitable. Once “Blacula” successfully combined the evergreen horror genre with the early seventies blaxploitation trend, someone had to do it. Just as Karloff as Frankenstein followed Lugosi's Dracula, just as FrankenBerry pursued Count Chocula, it was destiny that “Blackenstein” would appear in the aftermath of “Blacula.” The only thing that surprises me about “Blackenstein's” existence is that AIP didn't make it themselves. Instead, the Black Frankenstein was the brainchild of first-time director William A. Levey and only-time screenwriter/producer Frank L. Saletri. While “Blacula” would become a beloved cult classic, “Blackenstein” is remembered mostly for its outrageous title.

Physicist Winifred goes to work with her old professor, Dr. Stein, as he does experimental research into re-growing limbs. This especially interests Winifred, because her boyfriend Eddie lost his arms and legs after stepping on a landmine in Vietnam. Eddie immediately agrees to the treatment and his limbs are successfully regrown. Yet the experiment has the side effect of turning him into a shambling, neanderthal-bridged monster. He sneaks out at night to murder anyone in his way. Dr. Stein attempts to keep the truth from Winifred but, as the police begin to suspect what might be responsible for the ghastly murders, she discovers that her lover has been turned into Blackenstein.

The blaxploitation movement included films that were subversive, allowing marginalized voices a chance to speak their truth to an under-represented audience. It also included effortlessly entertaining exploitation movies that knew to give audiences exactly what they wanted. Of course, there were also people happy to capitalize on a popular trend, concerned only with turning a buck and not producing anything of quality. “Blackenstein” undoubtedly falls into the latter most category. In fact, “Blackenstein” is often hilariously awkward and unprofessional. Long stretches of the film are devoted to the the titular monster awkwardly shambling around in overly dark areas. The camera frequently affixes itself to the creature's face, as he blankly stares ahead and growling noises play on the soundtrack. The camerawork is frequently awkward. The acting is almost universally wooden. Joe De Sue, as the title creature, is especially inexpressive.

From any sort of critical perspective, you can only call “Blackenstein” a bad movie. The writing and story construction are often clumsy. Dr. Stein's Igor-like assistant has a crush on Winifred, a subplot that adds little. The movie pauses for a lengthy night club sequence that showcases a rambling, stilted stand-up comic. This proceeds a performance of the film's fleetingly funky theme song. Almost all the murder scenes take place off-screen, Blackenstein dismembering his victims and leaving rubbery, chunky remains. Many scenes are unintentionally hilarious, such as the male nurse that badgers Eddie in the V.A. hospital or one of Dr. Stein's other patients growing a tiger-stripped leg. No scene in “Blackenstein” is more awkward and amusing than its anti-climatic ending. After a brief confrontation between the monster, his creator, and his love interest, Blackenstein is killed off by some police dogs seconds before the credits roll.

Ultimately, “Blacula” worked because it smartly contrasted social issues facing black Americans with classic monster movie tropes. “Blackenstein” seems only vaguely aware of these connections. The story of a black man, being crippled after fighting a white government's unjust war, only to be mistreated and mutated into a monster by the same system, seems ripe with social commentary. How many black men went off to Vietnam only to return addicted to drugs, abused by a racist system, or otherwise transformed into a “monster” by their war injuries? Similarly, the movie repeatedly features the image of a black man abducting white women, which could've been an ironic invocation of racist “where da white women at?” fear mongering. Instead, “Blackenstein' simply let's these moments exist within a story more concerned with rehashing classic horror clichés than commenting on the problems facing black audiences. The movie doesn't even have the good sense to let Blackenstein rough up some white cops, by far the most cathartic element of “Blacula.”

And yet... As half-assed and janky as “Blackenstein” is, I just can't hate this movie. It's mad scientist movie sets are colorful. It's frequently hilarious, though by no means intentionally. It's sleazy ambiance, utterly incompetent acting, and amateurish writing can do nothing but charm me. I'm forced to declare this one so bad, it's good. By the way, Frank L. Saletri would be murdered in an apparent gang land executions years later. William A. Levey, meanwhile, went on to gift us with cinematic masterpieces “Monaco Forever” and “Hellgate.” Of course, several other blaxploitation/horror hybrids would follow but, disappointingly, someone has yet to actually make “The Bunchblack of Blotre Blame.” [7/10]

The Hitchhiker: Killer

Yesterday, I reviewed an anthology episode called “The Hitch-Hiker.” Today, I review an episode from anthology series “The Hitchhiker.” Funny how that worked out, isn't it? Anyway, “Killer” – every source lists it as “The Killer” but the in-episode tittle card leaves off the declarative article – follows Meg, a wheelchair bound woman living with her rich family in a large mansion. After an argument with her parents, Meg finds herself seemingly alone in the home. As she travels through the building, she discovers dead bodies all around her. A murderer has entered the house and shot-gunned everyone to death. Now, Meg is the sole survivor and must escape the lurking killer... Or, at least, that's what seems to be happening.

“Killer” was directed by Carl Schenkel, with cinematography by Reginald H. Morris, who was also the D.P. on “Black Christmas.” You can definitely see this pedigree in this episode. This is visually got a stylish half-hour. There's lots of shots on the small details, as the protagonist sneaks through the house. The night time photography contributes to the isolated ambiance. This combines with a script that is largely dialogue free, allowing the audience to focus on the noises Meg makes as she tries to hide from the intruder. The result builds suspense quickly, the audience focused on nothing more than a vulnerable heroine trying to escape the killer stalking her. It's a classic slasher flick set-up and “Killer” exploits nicely.

In fact, the script cuts the set-up down to the barest elements. We learn almost nothing about Meg. What she's fighting with her family about is only hinted at. We don't even know why her parents own such a fancy house. Despite that, Jenny Seagrove makes her a compelling protagonist. Like any slasher final girl, she's got an internal strength to stand up to the man that is threatening her. Says a lot about Seagrove that she has that quality we can instantly root for. It's a shame all of that is thrown away for a twist ending that is easy to predict anyway. Up to that point, “Killer” is an effective intense half-hour. I can see why it's the top-rated episode of “The Hitchhiker” on IMDb. It's a shame Paige Fletcher as the titular host is such a wet blanket. [7/10]

The Munsters: Cyrano De Munster / The Musician

Some more classic sitcom scenarios are explored in this batch of “Munsters” episode. As the title suggests, “Cyrano De Munster” has Herman becoming the ghost writer for Clyde, a co-worker too shy to approach the girl he likes. Clyde is so nervous around women that he even insists Herman comes along with him on dates, hiding in the bushes and feeding him poems on the spot. When Lily discovers the poetry and assumes Herman is cheating, shenanigans ensue. “The Musician” involves Eddie being assigned the trumpet in his music class. He clearly doesn't have much talent with the instrument but Herman remains proud of his son, insisting he practice. Grandpa decides to give Eddie a boost with some magic of his.

For an episode revolving around a character we've never met before, “Cyrano De Munster” works pretty well. I guess a love-struck guy desperate to impress the woman he's enamored with is a universal situation. Chet Stratton also has the right mixture of nerdiness and vulnerability to make the character likable. Herman being a talented poet is a good example of how much of a simpleton he is depending on whatever the writers need. I don't much care for the subplot about Lily getting upset with her husband. Though it does lead to a decent pay-off, even if it's the exact gag you expect from this show. Once again, the cast sells it all. Fred Gwynne and Al Lewis' bickering during a scene, where Herman gets inspiration in the bath, made me laugh. As did Butch Patrick's low-key delivery on a line about spelling.

I figured “The Musician” was going to be another episode about Herman and Grandpa's opposing approaches to success. Herman wants Eddie to practice, Grandpa cooks up a magic potion to immediately make the boy talented. Instead of character driven laughs, the episode veers towards extremely dated gags about Grandpa accidentally turning Eddie into a jive-talking hipster. As goofy as this moment is, Butch Patrick and Fred Gwynne make it work because their delivery of the silly dialogue is so amusing. This episode is also notable as one of the few times John Carradine appears on-screen as Mr. Gateman. His dry delivery, emphasizing how humorless the funeral home director is, makes for a few good laughs. There's also a great gag where Lily is cooking an uncooperative iguana for dinner. [Cyrano de Munster: 7/10 / The Musician: 7/10]

A YEAR OF SLASHERS: Leprechaun: Back 2 tha Hood (2003)

From its dubious beginnings, the “Leprechaun” series has prided itself on putting its title character in all sorts of unexpected locations. From the countryside to the big city to Las Vegas, to the furthest reaches of outer space. Even the closure of Trimark Pictures, the series’ original production company, couldn’t stop the Leprechaun’s adventures. With the fifth entry, the Lep went to the hood. The sixth part would break with tradition by retreading old ground. The Leprechaun was going back to the hood. Or, as the subtitle insists on spelling it, “Leprechaun: Back 2 tha Hood.”

As always, we start with a clean slate. A well-meaning priest stole the Leprechaun’s gold, planning to use it to build a community center for his crime-infested town. He successfully buries the Leprechaun underground but succumbs to his wounds afterwards. A year later, Emily is told by a fortune teller that she’ll soon stumble upon great wealth. Just that happens when she tumbles into the abandoned community center, discovering the Leprechaun’s gold. This reawakens the ill-tempered imp, who goes on another rampage through the hood, seeking his gold and the blood of those who stole it.

“Leprechaun in the Hood” felt like a very dumb but generally good-natured parody of ‘hood movies. “Back 2 tha Hood,” too often, feels like a straight example of urban exploitation flicks. I do not care about the daily strife of Emily, her friend Lisa, and her boyfriend Rory. Their struggles with trying to escape tha hood are routine and uninteresting. A surprising amount of screen time is devoted to their daily struggles. The comedy that does exist in this half is extremely broad. Stoner Jamie’s coining of the phrase “ninja” is a decently amusing running gag. Otherwise, we’re greeted to degrading racial stereotypes, such as gold-digging girlfriends or an obnoxious big woman. Once the Leprechaun shows up and starts, you know, killing people, things improve slightly. But “Back 2 tha Hood” takes far too long to get going.

In the second half of the film, things start to pick up. Warwick Davis’ tiny terror indulges in even goofier shenanigans. He rips on a bong, a genuine moment of dumb comedy, especially once he uses that as a murder weapon. He gets locked in a fridge but is too high to care. The kills are disappointingly low-key. The Leprechaun mostly finishes his victim’s off with his claws, which is a far cry from the magical murders in parts 3 and 4. However, the movie does have some fun with its setting. The Leprechaun’s duel with a pair of racist cops is probably the best scene in the movie, as it involves comical dismemberment. When he gets in the cop car afterwards, realizing he can’t reaches the peddles, I laughed. Once the Leprechaun is on the phone, attempting to score a date, being smashed under the body of a pimp-mobile, and trading kamehamehas with a psychic fortune teller, “Back 2 tha Hood” finally settles into the right kind of ridiculous.

Aside from all the ghetto-set tomfoolery, the sixth “Leprechaun” film expands on the mythology in some interesting ways. The film begins with an animated prologue, explaining the Leprechauns origins, how they were fairies raised to protect kings’ gold. How, after the kings fell out of favor, most returned to the Earth. Except for one who, out of greed, started to horde the gold. Gee whiz, that’s actually a pretty epic origin for the most laughable of horror movie threats. The movie returns to older aspects of the series, reestablishing the Leprechaun’s weakness to four-leaf clovers. The general make-up remains the same but the Leprechaun is sporting slightly different duds this time, including an overcoat and a new hat. I can’t say I care for that.

Through it all, there’s Warwick Davis, cracking silly jokes and generally having the time of his life. Davis’ unending enthusiasm for the role – let’s face it, the guy is in “Harry Potter” and “Star Wars.” He doesn’t need these movies – is what kept the entire, ridiculous, hideously dumb but oddly endearing “Leprechaun” series afloat for six movies. “Back 2 tha Hood” is not the peak of the franchise. That dubious honor still goes to the one-two punch of Las Vegas and “In Space.” But it’s not without its moments either. Fans have sat through the rest of the franchise. Odds are good they’ll sit through this too. [6/10]

A YEAR OF SLASHERS: Leprechaun in the Hood (2000)

Obviously, the “Leprechaun” series continued to be popular on the video market. We wouldn’t have gotten a fifth movie if it wasn’t. Around the same time, movies targeted at the “urban market” where also popular in the direct-to-video world. Obviously, it made sense to cross over these two elements. (Okay, maybe “makes sense” is the wrong phrase.) If the Leprechaun interacting with space was hilarious, the Leprechaun in the hood would be as twice as hilarious, right? And thus, in 2000, "Leprechaun in the Hood" became a real movie.

In the 1970s, as evident by the ridiculous afro, a street hood named Mack Daddy discovered the Leprechaun’s secret lair. Removing the pendent from his neck, he brought the Lep to life. Before Mack could be killed, he slipped the pendent back on his neck, stealing the Leprechaun’s magical flute too. Thirty years later, Mack Daddy has now become a successful rap producer, mostly thanks to that magic flute. Meanwhile, three young kids are hoping to become rap superstars. A chance encounter with Mack Daddy gives them their chance… Before they blow it. That night, they return to the producer’s home with the intention to rob it. Instead, they unleash the Leprechaun, grabbing his magic flute. This works out nicely for them until the ghastly gremlin returns for his property.

I can’t believe I’m saying this. The best thing about “Leprechaun in the Hood” is its characters. The central trio goes by Postmaster P., Stray Bullet, and Butch. Despite their gangsta’ rap nicknames, they are actually nice boys. Postmaster P. talks about positivity, how he doesn’t want to enforce negative stereotypes. Butch is a technical genius with a keen understanding of chemistry, engineering all sorts of devices. Only Stray wants to pursue the tough street criminal image. A.T. Montgomery, Rashaan Nail, and Red Grant are surprisingly likable in the parts. When the three kids have to perform for a church, their awkward attempts are endearing. I’d say Montogmery even gives a good performance as Post, actually putting some thought into his character. The friendship the three share is sort of sweet, even. These are not things I’d expect from a movie called “Leprechaun in the Hood.”

Which isn’t to say the movie doesn’t deliver on the cheap and easy sight gags. Obviously it does, which is apparent from the moment Ice-T pulls a baseball bat out of his afro. Considering the Leprechaun’s preference to rhyming, putting him a hip-hop environment almost makes sense. (Well, it makes as much sense as anything with these movies do.) As expected, the Leprechaun smokes weed. He murders the offensively stereotyped Chinese store owner. He survives being shot with a gat. Most bizarrely, he even summons a trio of “fly honies,” personal ladies that serve as his minions. And, yes, he raps which is as good as you’d expect. At least the movie is committed to its dumb premise. It’s certainly better then the Leprechaun’s lackluster kills, which mostly involve blowing holes in people’s chest with his powers.

“Leprechaun in the Hood” is not as deliriously entertaining as the previous two films. Much of the humor is off-putting. A male cross-dresser is treated in an offensive, homophobic manner. The movie returns to that ground at the end, when the heroes cross-dress too. The film’s pacing really starts to falter in the last third. Following a major character’s death, the movie gets unusually serious. It ricochets between incredibly goofy and sort-of serious for the rest of the run time. Moreover, you can tell the writers didn’t really have enough story for a feature. The film begins to feel like a collection of unrelated sketches by the end. The downbeat conclusion ends the movie on a dreary note.

But then again, what do you want? This is the fifth movie in the “Leprechaun” series, for goodness sake. All things considered, it’s a lot better than it has any right to be. Warwick Davis is still having a ball in the part and there’s a little more thought put into this than expected. It’s still incredibly dumb, obviously, but it manages to be mildly entertaining. [6/10]

BLAXPLOITATION MONTH: Black Dynamite (2009)

I can't remember when or how I first heard of “Black Dynamite.” I just know that, as soon as I found out about the movie, I had to see it. When I finally did watching the film, I laughed my ass off. Buying it shortly afterwards, I would watch the film over and over again, laughing my ass off even more every time. “Black Dynamite” became an absolute favorite of mine, the kind of film you show new girlfriends to see if they really “get” you. Sitting down to watch “Black Dynamite” again, probably for the one hundredth time, was somehow a new experience. After watching a month of blaxploitation classics, the spoof's homages and references became even more apparent. Let me tell you the truth: This movie gets funnier every time I watch it.

Black Dynamite is a former Vietnam commando and CIA special agent. He's a kung-fu master, a legendary lover, a brilliant tactician, and all-around the biggest bad ass in the world. Maybe the universe. When his nephew Bucky is killed in a drug deal gone bad, he's enraged. After seeing the orphanage overrun with smack, he's stymied. Black Dynamite declares war on anyone who sells drugs to the community. With his team of sidekicks and black militants, he quickly obliterates the local mafia. Yet the evil scheme goes deeper than that. It goes all the way to the top. As Black Dynamite attempts to destroy this evil empire, he'll go from the L.A. slums, to Kung Fu Island, to the White House.

“Black Dynamite” was the baby of star Michael Jai White, director Scott Sanders, and screenwriter Byron Minns. All three are big fans of blaxploitation flicks. Together, they perfectly replicated the look and feel of seventies soul cinema. The film is grainy, the colors slightly exaggerated. The camera movements are sloppy, scenes lingering just a little longer than they should. The editing is harsh, the acting stiff. Continuity gaffs, reoccurring stuntmen, obvious stock footage, and the boom mic all make guest appearances. Classically trained actors are called upon to speak street jive. Moreover, “Black Dynamite” brilliantly weaves in references and homages to real blaxploitation flicks. The villain's master plan recalls “Three the Hard Way.” A fight in a pool hall is a direct quote from “Black Belt Jones.” A character named Cream Corn is an Antonio Farqus-inspired dandy. Black Dynamite's pal Bullhorn raps his dialogue and incompetently karate fights, like Ruby Ray Moore. In fact, Moore's films were an obvious inspiration to “Black Dynamite” and are referenced throughout.

Yet “Black Dynamite” isn't just a series of perfectly recreated homages to blaxploitation films of years past. It's also full of uproarious absurdity. Some of these are related to the faux-shoddy production values. A stuntman stumbles out of a still moving car. An incompetent actor speaks the script's stage direction in his dialogue. What's even funnier than that is Black Dynamite's confused, irritated reaction to this. Other gags are just brilliantly silly. Like the Captain Kangaroo Pimp. Or a man in a doughnut suit meeting a suitably circular fate. Black Dynamite fools his enemies by putting a bear in a chair and pretending to take a shot. Via animation, Black Dynamite's loving making skills reach a cosmic level. One hilarious scene has the heroes making a series of increasingly unlikely leaps of logic, figuring out the evil scheme via obscure factoids. (When an old lady joins in, I officially couldn't breath anymore.) Even little gags – Black Dynamite's laughter carrying over from a montage or the hero casually shooting two evil goons – get huge reactions. Practically every joke is a home run.

At the center of the film is maybe my favorite comedic performance of the last decade. As a character, Black Dynamite is the ultimate masculine power fantasy, the logical extremity of every blaxploitation protagonist. Michael Jai White's portrayal spins between two deliriously humorous poles. White beautifully captures the stoic heroism of Jim Brown, his smile hidden under a mustache. His romantic frolicking is beautifully awkward. His reaction to a multiple children claiming he's their father is sidesplitting. For all his unfeeling toughness, Black Dynamite is also prone to bizarre, emotional outburst. When recalling his childhood as an orphan, he freaks out. When seeing a room full of doped up orphans, he freaks out. When one of his hos gets lippy, he freaks out even more. When fighting a group of evil kung-fu villains with White's genuinely impressive abilities, he freaks way the fuck out. The other cast members' reaction to this – usually bafflement, sometimes stunned silence – is unforgettable.

“Black Dynamite's” strength as a parody extends beyond a pitch perfect recreation of the source material and a bunch of brilliant silliness. The script exaggerates the already apparent stereotypes and cliches of the genre. The meta joke of “Black Dynamite” is that the actors are playing actors in a bizarre blaxploitation flick. And that movie only grows more bizarre as it goes on. Soon, poisoned malt liquor is revealed as the linchpin of the evil plan. “Black Dynamite” goes from being a crime movie to being a war movie. It then becomes a kung-fu movie, the hero utterly wrecking a hilariously nonchalant evil Asian warlord. The script still isn't done upping the odds. Next, black Dynamite takes the fight to Richard Nixon, who is secretly a master of martial arts. Luckily, the ghost of Abraham Lincoln appears to help. In any other movie, wackiness of this degree might be too self aware. In “Black Dynamite,” whose balance of tone is unimpeachable, it just causes more choruses of laughter.

In a time when the majority of parody movies are grueling experiments in beyond lazy writing and barely there jokes, “Black Dynamite” comes along to remind you that parodies can be good. Not just good but brilliant. It's very apparent that the makers of “Black Dynamite” have nothing but affection for their chosen target. They're students of it, using their knowledge to craft a spoof that is as much faithful homage as goofball riff. Naturally, such dedication of hilarity would grant the film an instant cult following. A pretty good animated series has followed but that often promised, actual sequel has yet to emerge. But it has to appear eventually, because Black Dynamite has far more rights to wrong, many more suckas to own, hundreds of jive turkeys to stick it to. [9/10]

[THE BLAXPLOITATION CHECKLIST: 11 outta 12]
[X] Afros or Sideburns
[X] Brothels or Pimps
[X] Churches or Pastors
[X] Funky Soundtrack
[] Homophobic Caricatures
[X] Inner-City Setting
[X] Night Club Act
[X] Plot Involving Drugs or Organized Crime
[X] Racist Authority Figures
[X] Sticking It to the Man
[X] Sweet Love Makin'
[X] Use of Street Slang

 

Thus concludes Blaxploitation Month. It was a blast, thirty-one days of funky films, many of which I had never seen before. I am now better read in this paticuliar genre, even if there's way more movies out there to watch. Will there be another Blaxploitation Month in the future? You can count on it.

BLAXPLOITATION MONTH: BAADASSSSS! (2003)

I began 2017's Blaxploitation Month with “Sweet Sweetback's Baadasssss Song.” So it's only fitting that the month would wrap up with “BAADASSSSS!” The story behind the production of Melvin Van Peebles' landmark film is legendary, full of strife and struggle. This makes it a natural choice for the biopic treatment. What makes “BAADASSSSS!” really special is that it was directed by Mario Van Peebles. As in, Melvin's own son. This gives the film a more personal feeling than you'd expect from most other biopics. The director actually lived through some of the events depicted in “BAADASSSSS!” The film wouldn't get too much attention upon release in 2003 but those who saw it gave rave reviews.

In 1970, Melvin Van Peebles is a success. His comedy, “Watermelon Man,” is a hit. Columbia Pictures has just offered him a three picture deal. The studio is encouraging him to make another comedy. Van Peebles, meanwhile, wants to make a serious film, about a black man fighting against white oppression. About “a street brother gettin' the man's foot outta his ass,” as Melvin puts it. And he wants the black guy to get away at the end. Everyone hates the idea. The studio refuses to produce the script. Van Peebles decides to make the movie totally independently. The producers are sketchy, forcing Melvin to bankroll most of the movie with his own cash. The shooting is guerrilla style. Money is constantly running out. Even after Van Peebles finishes shooting, there's no way for him to know if his confrontational, experimental movie will be a success.

A son making a movie about his own father is a double edged sword. It allows for a personal perspective on the material, presumably resulting in a closer-to-life film. Yet that same connection also could've easily resulted in a hagiography, a glorified ode afraid to treat its subject fairly. Luckily, Mario Van Peebles doesn't approach his dad with kid's glove. In “BAADASSSSS!,” Melvin Van Peebles can be kind of an asshole. He's not always great to his kids, sometimes being too hard on him. His decision to have Mario perform in one of “Sweetback's” sex scenes is controversial. The sex-and-drugs atmosphere of the seventies is shown as not always the best atmosphere to raise a kid in. Melvin's determination to complete his film at all costs, endangering himself, his family, and his crew, borders on fanatical. When an editor threatens to quit, Melvin punches him repeatedly in the face. The younger Van Peebles is impressed with his father's achievements but doesn't let the old man off the hook either.

Mario Van Peebles is probably best known as a leading man in B-rated fare like “Rappin'” and “Solo.” Yet he has some solid credits as a director, such as “New Jack City” and “Panther.” In “BAADASSSSS!,” he makes some interesting creative decisions. The movie sometimes functions as an interesting hybrid between documentary and bio film. The narrative frequently cuts away to interviews with the participants in the “Sweetback's” production. What's odd is that these interviews aren't with the actual people but with the actors playing them. This isn't the only potentially meta choice Van Peebles makes. Often, Melvin's self-doubts appear as a version of himself, dressed in dark clothing. This is an interesting way to illustrate the creative mind's relationship with doubt and ambition. Occasionally, the film is peppered with other surreal touches. Such as Melvin seeing a singing child floating above him on the ceiling.

Mostly, “BAADASSSSS!” is about the struggles of an independent filmmaker, trying to make a real movie on his own terms. Van Peebles has trouble getting the money necessary to make the movie. One producer demands a sexual favor in exchange for funding. Another is a blasted out hippy who gets thrown in jail the day production starts. It's not the last run-in with the law the production has. His interracial crew is arrested by cops, convinced the Latino and black men stole the equipment. Van Peebles has to blow up a car without a permit. A stuttering actor brings a real gun to the set, which is later thrown in with the prop guns. The boom operator, a black militant played by a young Terry Crews, challenges Van Peebles' authority at one point. That's aside from people leaving the set or money running out. Even after the film is made, Melvin still goes through the struggles of trying to sell a deeply non-commercial film.

Of course, “Sweet Sweetback's Baadasssss Song” would become a commercial success, reaching the black audiences Van Peebles knew mainstream Hollywood ignored, and birthing a cinematic movement in the process. This does remove some suspense from the final act. Despite some flaws, “BAADASSSSS!” is a pretty great movie about making movies. The cast is extremely good, with Mario doing a great job of playing his own father. The loaded supporting cast includes Crews, David Alan Grier, and Rainn Wilson. (Then again, Bill Cosby shows up at the very end, like some sort of in-retrospect boogeyman.) Van Peebles not only pays homage to what his father accomplished but also makes an interesting artistic statement of his own, showing the internal and external conflicts the creative mind endures. [7/10]

[THE BLAXPLOITATION CHECKLIST: 7 outta 12]
[X] Afros or Sideburns
[] Brothels or Pimps
[] Churches or Pastors
[X] Funky Soundtrack
[] Homophobic Caricatures
[X] Inner-City Setting
[] Night Club Act
[] Plot Involving Drugs or Organized Crime
[X] Racist Authority Figures
[X] Sticking It to the Man
[X] Sweet Love Makin'
[X] Use of Street Slang

BLAXPLOITATION MONTH: Shaft (2000)

I suppose it says a lot about the brand recognition of “Shaft” that, even as a clueless suburban 12 year old in 2000, I knew who John Shaft was. Isaac Hayes' theme song really had saturated the pop culture to that large a degree. At the time, I had never seen any of the original film but knew that Shaft was the coolest cat around. So rebooting the series for then-modern audiences made a lot of sense. As a new millennium dawned, a new “Shaft” would strut onto theater screens. The reboot starring Samuel L. Jackson, the biggest black star this side of Will Smith, just seemed natural. John Singleton being behind the camera also made a lot of sense. Despite having so much in its favor, 2000's “Shaft” came and went without making much of an impact. Yet is it possible that this “Shaft” was actually ahead of its time?

Though it was sold as a remake, 2000's “Shaft” is actually a stealth sequel to the original series. Samuel L. Jackson plays John Shaft the Second, nephew to Richard Roundtree's original Shaft, who has a bit part in the film. (This is despite Roundtree only being six years older than Jackson.) This Shaft is a police officer, frustrated by the limitations of his job. When Walter Wade Jr., a racist son of a white millionaire, casually murders a black man and gets away with it, Shaft nearly leaves the force. The rich psycho skips bail and leaves America. Two years later, he returns. John Shaft is committed in pursuing the case, determined to get the one witness to the crime to speak out against Wade. The situation is made even more dangerous when Wade forms an alliance with a gang of drug dealers.

Samuel L. Jackson's Shaft is quite different from Roundtree's original. He's not as smooth or cool. This Shaft is more of a raw nerve, wearing his volatile emotions on his sleeve. When he's pissed off, his eyes bulge in the kind of glorious rage that Jackson specializes in. He's much less of a lady's man. Women are interested in him, and he reciprocates, but he's far more preoccupied with serving justice. Mostly, Jackson's sense of humor is really different from Roundtree's. Shaft '71 spun sarcastic lines into full blown belly laughs. Shaft '00 is funny when casually intimidating crooks and thugs, in a way that inevitably recalls “Pulp Fiction's” Jules. In fact, Singleton's “Shaft” repeatedly references Jackson's popular collaborations with Tarantino. None of these are criticisms, exactly. This is a different character, a different Shaft, and Jackson is always entertaining. But it certainly leads to a much more tonally different film.

At the time, the main villain in 2000's “Shaft” didn't seem very intimidating. Test audience's found Jeffrey Wright more compelling than Christian Bale's Walter Wade, causing re-edits that emphasized the former over the latter. In 2017, this element seems frighteningly prescient. A white man murders a black man in cold blood and uses his wealth to escape justice. Who would've thought that the real life version of this story would've been more terrifying, because he wouldn't need to flee the country? Because the attacker probably would be a cop and the victim probably would be a child? Bale's Wade is startlingly close to life as an entitled, racist piece of garbage. The murder was spurned because he ruthlessly bullied a black man for no reason and got called on his bullshit. In a time when white supremacists have reinvented themselves as a mainstream political party, populated by people who make shit eating grins and bait racial violence, this plot element hits almost too close to the heart.

With all this in mind, 2000's “Shaft” could've been an intense thriller about fighting against a disgustingly resistant form of racism. Instead, it quickly dissolves into a typical story of a renegade cop fighting drug dealing bad guys. Jeffrey Wright's Peoples, a small time dealer who hopes to build an empire, is played as partially sympathetic. He nurtures his infant son. When his brother is killed in a shoot-out, he launches into a grief-filled, suicidal rage. These are interesting touches but Wright plays the part so broadly, that Peoples becomes a standard bad guy. His ruthlessness, which includes shoving screwdrivers into snitches' hearts, drains him of any humanity he might've earned. His gang provides an endless horde of goons for Shaft to blast. The dirty cops in his employ – itself something of a cliché – just exist to add more twists and turns to the plot. Too often, the film barely feels like a “Shaft” movie. It could've been any police-based action flick.

By the way, that action is pretty cool. The shoot-outs are compelling and bloody. The bullets hit with a powerful impact, people thrown backwards by the shots. The sound design is excellent, the audience feeling like the projectiles are whizzing by our ears. The violence has weight and meaning. The tight spaces of front porches or city alleyways are utilized to up the intensity of the shoot-outs. A car nearly runs over Shaft in one scene. In another, a vehicle is used to toss an attacker back. As Shaft closes in on Peoples, the film bursts into an especially tense car chase. Singleton's direction sometimes overdoes it with the slow motion but usually he knows what he's doing. 2000's “Shaft” makes a lot of mistakes but its action sequences aren't one of them.

As you'd expect, this “Shaft” was made with eyes towards a franchise. With a big name star playing an iconic character, that should've been a sealed deal. Yet production was hectic. The studio wanted to downplay the racial and sexual elements of the script. In other words, the stuff that made the original special. Jackson and Singleton didn't get along and both were frustrated by the meddling executives. The movie went out to mediocre box office, despite an advertising push that included music videos and action figures. This fraught production is clear in the finished product, a sporadically interesting film pulled down by routine elements. There's been rumbling recently of a new reboot. Maybe in 2017, a new “Shaft” could acknowledge the racial tension this version hinted at but couldn't commit to while still maintaining the trademark sense of cool. That would be a remake worthy of the name. [6/10]

[THE BLAXPLOITATION CHECKLIST: 8 outta 12]
[X] Afros or Sideburns*
[] Brothels or Pimps
[] Churches or Pastors
[X] Funky Soundtrack
[] Homophobic Caricatures
[X] Inner-City Setting
[] Night Club Act
[X] Plot Involving Drugs or Organized Crime
[X] Racist Authority Figures
[X] Sticking It to the Man
[X] Sweet Love Makin'**
[X] Use of Street Slang

*Sideburns, no afros.
**Clips from a deleted love scene play during the opening credits. Which just barely counts.