No No! Stick To The Status Quo: High School Musical (2006)

I when first undertaking the "experience" that proved to be High School Musical I thought that I would just pick the most absurd line in the entire film as the quote for the blog title.  There were quite a few options to choose from, but while watching I realized that the "Stick To The Status Quo" song which is apparently intended to promote diversity and extending beyond one's assumed roles in life, is really quite arbitrary in a film that suggests as long as you stick to your original accepted lifestyle, it is permissible to be curious about the world around you, but again as long as you are successful at your socially prescribed role.  I understand that this was a made for television movie that aired on Disney Channel, but damn if it was not the most popular thing upon the time of its release, particularly for a young and impressionable crowd of people, who might have seen the half-hearted, poorly made movie as a sign of pushing diversity or new ideas into the world.  I am not lying when I say that some of the acting and production value at play in High School Musical is worse than The Room.  At least, there is a sense of endearing misdirection in the so-bad-it's-good cult classic, here considering the budget dumped on this film, it is inconceivable that it is anything less than well-executed.  In terms of a musical, High School Musical also falters considerably as it relies on glaringly obvious post-production sound and is so heavily edited during the choreographed sequences as to make one wonder as to whether or not any performer knew their dance routine beyond say two or three steps.  If Disney was ever clear in its failed intents on promoting diversity, it is right here in this film that almost seems smug in how well it is able to check off its "look we have this person of color" checklist and does the bare minimum necessary to deal with any sort of body politics.  Stick to the status quo, while not the intended mantra of this inconceivably bad piece of television movie execution, nonetheless, proves to be its reality.  Indeed, High School Musical is so concerned with middle-grade normative execution in terms of narrative that at times it almost seems to be ironic, and where it released by any other company than Disney I might be able to follow such a possibility.  Here, however, it is just in bad taste.

High School Musical begins in some bizarre space of a Christmas break resort, where the young Troy Bolton (Zac Efron) finds himself more occupied with spending time with his dad and school basketball coach Jack Bolton (Bart Johnson) than taking in the festivities created for him and the others at the resort.  At the prodding of his mother, he agrees to attend a social for teenagers, where he is forced to sing karaoke alongside Gabrielle Montez (Vanessa Hudgens).  The two, despite their initial nervousness, hit it off and find themselves exchanging numbers, only to lose each other in the crowd of New Years partiers.  When Troy returns to school the following week, he discovers his basketball teams, most notably Chad (Corbin Bleu) in place, alongside his admirer and school drama star Sharpay Evans (Ashley Tisdale) in line to engage in another normal year of school, with Troy as star basketball player and Sharpay as theatrical ingenue.  Yet, when Troy turns in class to discover Gabrielle in attendance he is immediately exited, realizing that it is his opportunity to rekindle their burgeoning interest from the break, a stroke a fate too great to pass up.  Both concerned with their ability to fit in under varied demands, Troy remaining a symbol of athletic prowess and Gabrielle navigating between being welcomed and avoiding becoming the brainiac girl, the two coalesce on auditioning for the drama departments annual musical, much to the confusion of the faux-erudite drama teacher Ms. Darbus (Alyson Reed).  The confusion is quickly removed when the two sing and all in attendance realize their skill, particularly the apprehensive Sharpay and her performance partner, sibling Ryan (Lucas Grabeel).  Needless to say sabotage becomes a thing of necessity as not only do the Evans siblings see the danger in their success, Chad and leader of the academic team Taylor McKessie (Monique Coleman) also want to quash their dreams, hoping that by doing so their respective organizations will succeed. After tricking the two into stepping down, the guilt proves to great and they manage to fix the status of both the big game and academic match to afford the two auditioning time, much to the pleasure of the entire school.  In the end the two rekindle their romance and a few other heteronormative pairings happen as a result.

This movie is half-concieved.  Hell, I would even go so far a to say that it was lacking in any sort of conceptual understanding of narrative gaps at all.  There are moments of contradiction in this film that just seem absolutely wrong to the point of being frustrating.  Set in the most nondescript of places Albuquerque, New Mexico, High School Musical pushes to create a space where all persons are represented.  Indeed, this is a rather normal trope in regards to the high school film, but it is also used in a much more knowing irony in say a John Hughes movie, or definitely so in Clueless. Here it is solely a result of a group of producers thinking they could profit hugely from creating a piece of young adult media that could be consumed by all.  However, the only people who would buy such malarky would have to be from upper-middle class status, although in such a situation as to believe that they are still situated within a lower class identity.  High School Musical, in fact, suffers most from its seeming willingness to embrace a society where all persons are on an equal financial footing.    Take for example, Troy's dad and his emphasis on the financial burden which will be removed from their family if he were to gain a scholarship.  The amount of escapist idealism here is treated with the same sense of urgency at play in the deeply moving and socially troubling documentary Hoop Dreams.  Were it to be a narrative where Troy was clearly from an impoverished family this would be less complicated morally, but it is worth remembering that the film begins with he and his family at a winter resort, in which money is clearly necessary to obtain.  If this were not enough, however, the fact that Troy is able to also play basketball on a regulation size court in his own backyard is a rather huge advantage and one that is afforded to a person of considerable wealth.  This is all layered on top of a reality where the students at this school are privileged with the funds to have a drama, sports and academic department that are fully funded and capable of pulling together full teams with the newest equipment and resources.  Without rambling further, High School Musical suffers most from its refusal to acknowledge the privilege within which it situations its narrative.

Key Scene:  ...ummm, there is a line that Coach Bolton delivers that is nearly inaudible, I guess it is my favorite part of the film.

Avoid this film, I watched it so you do not have to, instead, go watch a Busby Berkeley musical.  Also Zac Efron has the stupidest faces in this movie.

There Was A Man Down There!: Zombie (1979)

Certain blog posts about films beg questions as to the larger meaning of life, or the nature of good versus evil as shown in societies most basic engagements.  At times films flail to answer these questions and in other situations they deliver such an assertive voice on an issue as to become a significant moment in cinema, as well as a work of art that proves important well beyond its inception, as is the case with something like 2001: A Space Odyssey.  Zombie, the gore-fest horror film by Italian director Lucio Fulci, ask questions as well, or more appropriately causes those who view it in all its shlock-filled glory to inquire about the various oddities and curiosities which unfold throughout the film.  For example, who in their right mind only goes swimming in a thong, but feels it absolutely necessary to wear a gaudy swim cap in the process.  Or, how one could find themselves in such a situation as to allow a slow zombie the chance to catch up with them, push only their hand through the room and then drag their eye into an exposed piece of wood.  Hell, it even posits a possible world where people feel so incapable of stifling their sexual desires that they consider having sex in the middle of a zombie infested forest, only to be genuinely surprised by their being attacked.  In all these ways, perhaps Zombie really does transcend its restraints of traditional gore cinema and become a focused look at human nature on par with the great works of the auteurs, who knows, because between the terrible, and I have seen enough to know this is particularly bad, voice dubbing and video transferred blurriness. Yet, Zombie, as a work that does, for all intents and purposes, exist in its own cinematic space manages to move through cult cinema circuits, word-of-mouth and devoted cinephiles with the same adoration given to the works of Kubrick or Welles.

Zombie, is of course about zombies, but that does not mean that Fulci does not approach the narrative without earnestness.  Indeed, the film begins pseudo-in media res, with a beginning shot of a shadowy figure shooting a body moving about that is bound and blanketed in a white sheet, before nothing it is now feasible to leave the island.  The film then opens with an abandoned yacht floating into the harbor of New York, wherein two unsuspecting cops are attacked by a zombie creature, only to shoot it into the depths of the city's harbor.  The cops confused by the events question Anna Bowles (Tisa Farrow) who is the owner of the yacht, only to discover that she was engaged in an elicit affair, leading to the secrecy behind the yacht's appearance.  Anna explains that the attacks are likely attached to the work her father does on a tropical island, leading to her and reporter Peter West (Ian McCulloch) being sent to ascertain exactly what is occurring and what exactly is happening to the diseased attacking bodies.  Given their trouble traveling the duo gain the help of boating experts and semi-professional nudists Bryan Curt (Al Cliver) and Susan Barrett (Aurretta Gay).  Upon arrival at an uncharted island known as Matool, the group meets up with Dr. David Menard (Richard Johnson) who explains that the island is particularly subject to a disease that causes all those who die in its spaces to rise from the dead with an uncontrollable desire for human flesh and despite the dangers clear with such a disease, he insists on staying to continue research.  This continual occupation in the space of the island leads to the various members of the group being attacked, whether it be Dr. Menard's wife being attacked post-shower by a decidedly voyeuristic zombie, or the previously mentioned attacks on the couple having sex.  Eventually, the only survivors of the vicious onslaught are Peter and Anne, who bring along the zombie corpse of Bryan as evidence, yet when they get close to New York they discover via radio transmission that the city, and presumably much of The United States is under the spell of the disease.

Zombie is not made to be taken too seriously, although it is clear that Fulci has some semblance of a social critique at play, one no less on the nose than any other zombie film of the time, particularly the work of George A. Romero, from which, this film heavily and unapologetically borrows.  Indeed, its proper Italian title is Zombi 2, as Zombi represents the Italian name for Romero's wildly successful Dawn of the Dead, a personal favorite of mine in the genre.   I say all this to suggest that the metaphors in this film, much like their predecessor are intended to be on the nose, precisely because a zombie film affords an othering, wherein all characters are aware of the evilness they are versing, thus making any sense of previous social divide moot.  Take for example the race and gender elements of Romero's original film Night of the Living Dead and how they are briefly acknowledged and immediately transcended in favor of focusing on the push for survival and the irrelevance of all previously constructed notions of society.  Indeed, Fulci is aware of this commentary and by setting his film on a remote island only furthers the detachment of the film's narrative from such institutionalized structures, therefore affording a degree of subversion to bodily depictions in the film.  However, Fulci also seems to be bending the genre, albeit, unintentionally by heavily relying on elements of the exploitative for his film, the wild use of gore, at time really jarring and at other moments so artificial as to be humorous manages to work on an almost, dare I say, Brechtian level, both drawing the viewers into the films intensity while also chastising and alienating them for taking any joy, even if purely visceral, in such excess and faux social critique.  Zombie wants its viewers to be unsettled by not only the infestations and body horror of the film, but by the fact that it is indeed being paralleled to a society that is equally disconcerting when placed under a microscope, showing that the same worms that spills out of the eyes of the various zombies, manifest themselves metaphorically through capitalist and scientific endeavors in the Western world.  Furthermore, should you think this all implausible, Fulci's closing scenes drive this home with great zeal.

Key Scene:  Shark versus Zombe.

This DVD is surprisingly cheap for its cult like status, but I am aware it might not work for everyone, therefore, renting might be an ideal course of action.

For Your Awareness: The Terror Of Tiny Town (1938)

For the final installment of this month of westerns I figured I would have to go with the most absurd and nonsensical film for the coup de grace.  I have found that film in what can only be describe as a film whose very existence defies all logic, as well as all reason for demand or conventions in the cinematic structure.  Of course, it is a film that has obtained its own deserved cult status, in its genre hybridity, perhaps the most intense thus far, as well as being billed, I kid you not, as "the first all-midget western."  This movie in question is none other than The Terror of Tiny Town and as it may well suggest is not in fact about a town of miniature sets in which people diagnosed with dwarfism run through the streets, although they do indeed have miniature ponies, which is glorious in its own right.  Instead, it is a town full of little persons who navigate a western town in which everything is of normal size, begging the question as to why the title was not something like...say The Trouble in Enormous Town.  This digressions is a bit necessary on my part because I really cannot fathom what I could possibly offer to this movie that would not boil down to calling it a bit of wild exploitation, which were it not for the opening moments of the film in which an announcer warns viewers as to what they are about to watch, one could make the argument that it is actually a film that never states, again aside from credits, that it is a film about little people.  The world they occupy is entirely there own, one that assumes many of the tropes of the western, and treats the individuals as the adults they are never appropriating a childlike stature upon them and mocking their moves, which is a big surprise considering that many of the people involved within this unusual little (no pun intended) film, were first seen as the "loveable" munchkins in The Wizard of Oz.  The Terror of Tiny Town packs a pretty narrative heavy punch for only being an hour in runtime, which is rather surprising for a film that begins by embracing the wacky and bizarre nature of its very existence, of course, the narrative is by no means inventive, so much as those who are allowed to act out its scenes.

The Terror of Tiny Town as a film certainly exists within many genres, one could assume that it was to show the diversity, of what I assume to be a performing troupe that consisted entirely of little people.  As such it pulls in some decidedly comedic parts, while also forcefully included far too many musical numbers, most of which were dubbed by a terrible version of Bing Crosby.  What it does do right within the western is create a clear distinction between a decidedly evil character and his good counterparts, even going so far as to play upon the particular guile of the villain and his ability to turn rational, good-hearted individuals against each other by exploiting what is assumedly some latent capitalist greed that forces them to value their monetary possessions over any sort of friendship, a foolish frame of mind that is not counteracted until the films closing moments.  Furthermore, it includes a believable love story of a lone cowboy falling for a young woman with a wonderful singing voice, not to mention that it also includes a heightened final scene whose jump cuts to a soon to explode dynamite have a certain degree of Keaton intensity to them.  Ultimately, it becomes a question as to whether or not a viewer is able to get past the schtick of the film in that it is to be unusual because the persons occupying the narrative space are non-normative bodies, and while I would like to say I could completely detach myself, I am not that fair-minded and certainly found things humorous of which I was not proud, but I am aware and that is the best I can offer.  With that beings said I do think the film offers the possibility to create a narrative that has non-normative bodies and deals with them in a brilliant and non-exploitative way and one that is from the 1930's no less.  Therefore, while The Terror of Tiny Town has obtained cult status, it should also receive much deserved critical attention for its surprisingly revolutionary offering.

This movie is available on YouTube and is well worth at least checking out a few minutes to be aware of its existence.

Nothin' But Boobies. Who Needs 'Em?: Valley of the Dolls (1967)

If I want to embrace yesterdays film Foxy Brown for its absolutely brilliant use of metaphor, then I will have to come down quite hard on Mark Robson's 1967 film Valley of the Dolls, an adaptation of a Jaqueline Susann novel of the same name for being far too over the top and showy to really justify its intensity.  Sure the film is absolutely mesmerizing visually, particularly its use of psychedelic sequences to depict pill highs, and the rather innovative method for depicting musical numbers.  Yet, it must be acknowledged that the film really seems to lack a clear direction, social commentary or set of relateable characters in general.  While these are not necessarily mandatory for a film to be enjoyable, just look at anything Harmony Korine has made, when something like Valley of the Dolls attempts to reside within the cinematic and frames itself within the traditional aspects of filmmaking, it can be rather unbearable to watch it crumble under its own overly lofty ambitions.  Perhaps my real problem with the film comes not from its broad ambitions, I enjoy films with audacious hopes, but, instead; from its inability to relate its visual endeavors with the story shown.  While I have never personally read Susann's novel I cannot speak to how faithful Robson's adaptation is or is not, I, however, imagine that some of the "whiteness" of the narrative is undercut by the reality of the then tense racial climate.  The film viewers are provided with plays heavily into assumptions that everything is terrible in the world of well-to-do white people, almost entirely as a result of their large amounts of free time.  In fact, this is a film about a girl moving to the big city and attempting to find her identity, something her class and race afford her to do without question.  I know this is a rambling bit of rage and theoretically obtuse, yet, I just felt really let down by what I assumed would be a far more astute observation of sex, drugs and exploitation in the era, yet, the result was far less thrilling and certainly problematic.  In fact, if it were not for the beautiful voice of Dionne Warwick at the films opening and closing I would be inclined to dismiss the film in its entirety, and to think I almost bought a copy of the film flat out based on the cover alone.

Valley of the Dolls centers on two young girls who decide to take a shot at Broadway and all its illustrious promises.  The first girl Neely O'Hara (Patty Duke) is in possession of a powerful voice, but does not necessarily fit the look of a Broadway starlet.  The second is Anne Welles (Barbara Parkins) a young woman from New England who has travelled to the big city, completely living her somewhat provincial life and middle America lifestyle behind her, including a promising marriage proposal.  The film then becomes, ostensibly, about making the correct choices.  Another girl within the group of women attempting to hit it big on Broadway, Jennifer North (Sharon Tate) takes the approach of marrying into success, assuming that it will afford her open doors to big events and eventually huge theater deals, however, she ends up pregnant and in need of an abortion, which leads to another layer of medical expenses.  In the end Jennifer must break-down and star in European "soft core" erotic films.  On the other hand Neely, in an attempt to use duplicitous and devious behavior to her advantage, much like her idol, an aging Helen Lawson (Susan Hayward), however, in the process, Neely comes to obtain a crippling addiction to barbiturates, known, as "dolls" in the community.  Anne is also not free of the dangerous influence of "dolls," and succumbs to their influence for a considerable amount of time, yet is able to escape their addictive nature.  Neely, however, continues to spiral out of control and ends up in an asylum for a portion of the film, where she is assured that she caught sight of a former lover.  Yet, upon release Neely's addiction worsens, and when she adds alcohol to the mix things only spiral further downward.  In the end, Anne returns home to her family, realizing that, perhaps, the big allure of Broadway is far too much for her and simplicity is her best course of action.

This movie is all over the place philosophically, and seems to desire to dump the entirity of women's issues onto viewers, without properly dealing with any of them.  There is a character who is diagnose with cancer, and its relationship to the overall plot is so loose that I could not help but recall the announcement of having cancer that occurs in Tommy Wiseau's The Room.  I am, obviously, all for films dealing with issues of women's health and their social objectification, in fact, almost every paper or presentation I give concerns this, yet, I have no desire to engage with materials that only do this on a cursory level.  There is an abortion in this film, very little is made of this, despite clearly having rather dire effects of Jennifer and her self-identity.  She spirals into doing softcore pornography and the film never suggests that her inability to talk about her feelings post-abortion may have played into her choices.  Furthermore, the film uses some incredibly derogatory terms for sexual identity as it relates to one character, and while one could certainly suggest that this is due to drug induced rage, little consequence or challenge is given to these slurs and hateful diatribes.  Finally, the film manages to take hysteria and use it as a plot advancement without, simultaneously, condemning it as a illogical and societally constructed phenomena.  In fact, Neely's entire stay at the mental asylum appears to be an "expose" on how hysteria manifests itself, however, she is vilified for these behaviors, nevermind, that she is just as much caught in a love triangle with Anne and another man.  Very little seems to emerge in the way of critiquing males for their involvement in the problems "discussed" in this film and it is perhaps in this that I find the film most frustrating.  Again, I would rather have a film not discuss such dense and controversial topics, than to do so with half-hearted, nearly exploitative intentions.

Key Scene:  Again it is a visually pleasing film and the musical sequences are quite funny, I did, however, laugh out loud during the "European film" sequence.

This is a rental by all means, perhaps I am completely wrong in my opinion of this film and will certainly revisit in the future, however, as it stands I do not particularly care for its messy framework.

If They Don't Offer Us Justice, Then They Aren't Laws: Machete (2010)

A blind buy through and through, I had very little in the way of expectations for this relatively recent Robert Rodriguez helmed film, despite being quite adoring of El Mariachi and rather embracing towards his From Dusk Till Dawn, during my Halloween marathon.  I am rather certain that much of this preconceived notion towards this film exists in it coming out during a time when I was still entrenching myself within a certain degree of cinematic pretension, only viewing the established classics and barely making room for any film with an established cult status that was not also part of the canon.  Of course, as I noted earlier I absolutely adored El Mariachi and must simply have not made the connection while this film was originally making its way through theaters, for which I am quite regretful, considering that Machete is a bit of absurdist cinematic brilliance that one could and really should only expect from Robert Rodriguez.  Knowing everything I could no about the film going in, I was not prepared for two things, first being the magnificent bit of over-the-top acting on the part of Robert De Niro who both plays against his typecast, as well as into it when it proves beneficial.  Secondly, and perhaps more importantly, I did not expect Machete to be such an astute reflection on the  state of immigration in The United States, especially considering that this film is pushing the discussion to the forefront well before it became a popular topic in last years elections, as well as an underlying theme within Casa De Mi Padre, perhaps the most overlooked comedy of last year.  Of course, one cannot overlook Rodriguez's clearly vested interest in such a subject, especially since border crossing has undoubtedly proved to be a theme within so many of his earlier works.  Regardless, the ways in which the maniacally driven director incorporates the best and worst of both sides of the trafficiking and sneaking between borders into a film that clocks in under two hours is to be praised and shared, hell, I would have to revisit the directors works, but as it stands this could well be my new favorite work by Rodriguez.

Machete follows, all be it somewhat loosely, the experiences of ex-federal agent Machete Cortez (Danny Trejo) a vengeful Mexican man whose dead wife fuels such an impassioned desire for revenge that he proves a nearly unstoppable force.  However, Machete's world is a tricky one considering that he has lost his status as a federal agent as is subsequently given the status of a Mexican citizen, making even the thought of crossing the border illegal.  In fact, his only source of forward momentum appears to come from Luz (Michelle Rodriguez) a food truck vendor who also appears to be running an underground Mexican rights group cleverly named Shé.  The border also proves a treacherous place regarding drugs and the trafficking of any illegal substance, much to the apparent disapproval of one Michael Booth (Jeff Fahey) who hires Machete to exact an assassination attempt on the hyper-racist politician John MacLaughlin (Robert De Niro).  However, it is during this assassination attempt that Machete discovers he is simply being placed on a rooftop as a scapegoat for a larger political action with some intense ties.  Fortunately for Machete, Booth's drug consuming daughter April (Lindsay Lohan) is more than an easy target and actually serves as a point of blackmail against Booth on the part of Machete.  Within this already twisted web, Machete also encounters Sartana (Jessica Alba) a fiery customs officer with a lot to prove and while the two initially butt heads, they eventually become romantically involved.  Finally, the infamously mythic anti-immigration vigilante Von Jackson (Don Johnson) plays a huge part into the plot as he is a person whose gun seems to do his talking, not to mention his having close ties with the controversial MacLaughlin.  In fact, it is MacLaughlin who is injured at the border between Mexico and the United States leading to his being killed by the very vigilantes whom he associates with, all the while Machete survives the insanity and is assumedly to return for more violence at a later time.  A convoluted plot without a doubt, but one cannot forget its inherent ties to the exploitation genre, not to mention its clear consideration of the immigration issue.

Rodriguez seems quite intent on harping on the issue of immigration, not only as a problem in which American officials are ignoring a human rights issue, but also a narrative chiefly concerned with drawing attention to Mexican citizens own willful involvement in the continual exploitation of their peoples.  Characters like Machete, Sartana and Luz clearly exist to battle the injustices occurring on both sides of the border, while pretty much every other person in the cast of characters exists to show one of the many barriers or complexities existing as a means to defeat the possibility of a free flowing border.  Of course, drugs are a huge portion of this narrative, particularly the means with which they cause oppressed individuals within America, in this case the powerless April, to become addicted and, subsequently, involved in the oppression of Mexican citizens tied into the trade involuntarily.  MacLaughlin and Jackson represent figures of ivory tower privilege who see the "illegals" crossing the border as invaders of some glorified vision of America as a puritanical place of perfection, in which every job is to be possessed by a hard working citizen of The United States, yet Rodriguez is brilliant in showing that it is perhaps the lack of ethics concerning labor as a means of earning a living that is most troubling Americans (opening up an undeniable Marxist approach to this film that is best suited for another day).  In fact, Luz's attempts to properly make a living, including obtaining papers and a clientele are equally criticized, not because she is doing so illegally, but because she is engaging in the public sphere as a woman as a person of color.  It is no accident that Sartana constantly criticizes her, because their dueling identities as women of color prove to be a point of distrust as opposed to unity, due to the fact of internalization.  This idea of internalized oppression helps to understand the seemingly implicit role the Mexicans in the narrative play in their own inability to prosper, they have grown to fear the MacLaughlins and Jacksons of the world, when in reality as the closing scenes show, when the roles are reversed identity politics become quite arbitrary.

Key Scene:  Granted De Niro plays a bad guy, but it is such an absurd performance that anytime he shows up it proves to be one of the highlights of an already excellent film.

Buy a copy.  While I have a DVD version, it is vibrant and lively enough that I imagine paying an extra buck for the bluray version is more than worth it.

Dream Is A Shadow...Of Something Real: The Last Wave (1977)

Peter Weir is an interesting director his subject matter and overall cinematic oeuvre are quite spectacular, yet each films is inherently different and the most keen of cinephiles find themselves forgetting that he directed certain films because of their uniqueness.  For a rather in-depth analysis of the director I cannot recommend enough the blog Frederik on Film, which intensely analyzes the auteur, picking out key shots to match each film thematically across Weir's ever expanding career.  I myself intend to do a similar analysis of Danny Boyle in the future, but for the time being, I will simply focus on The Last Wave as a stand alone film, one that is rather early in the directors career.  A dark film, The Last Wave, is a psychological thriller of sorts that is more in line with Ken Russel's Altered States, than something like Nicolas Roeg's Walkabout, to which it is often compared.  It is a classic commentary on the abrasive effects of colonization, yet in Weir's crafty hands it also becomes a study of an aging marriage, a focus on the troubles of antiquated methods of law and most importantly the problem of projecting one's ideologies about life onto an individual despite their methods of living being completely foreign.  Weir's approach never seems to preachy and manages to stick quite nicely to its genre, yet at no time throughout the intensely filmed piece of cinema do viewers question what is being said, in fact, one will find themselves constantly amazed by the layering of ideals portrayed within the movie.

The Last Wave opens rather simply with a group of children playing during recess, only to have their games interrupted by an intense storm that produces a deluge of water and enormous pieces of hail.  After this rather inconsequential event, we are shown Sydney at night, while an unnamed Aborigine flees fellow Aboriginals.  Just at the moment when he thinks he has escape, an elder Aborigine sticks a wand out of a car, stopping the young man in his tracks and killing him in the process.  This inexplicable death, later determined to be a heart attack results in skepticism on the part of local law enforcement and as a result they hire a well-known corporate tax lawyer named David Burton (Richard Chamberlain), who agrees to the task partly out of pity, but also because of eerie dreams he has been having involving visions of an aboriginal boy.  Initially it appears as though Burton will fail to get through to the young men do mostly to language barriers, but the emergence of a well spoken Aborigine named Chris (David Gulipilil) who explains that it is impossible to describe the mans death, because it involves actions from the "dreamtime," which is a shadow of the reality in which he and David live.  This bizarre revelation is only greatened by Chris introducing David to his friend, and elder Charlie (Nandjiwarra Amagula) another individual who has occupied David's dreams.  In the process of defending the group of aborigines, David becomes obsessed with the notions of "dreamtime," so much so that he becomes distanced from his family and even begins attempts to obtain relics and tools from the Aborigine ceremonies.  As David becomes obsessed with what he believes to be an impending apocalypse, he finally confronts the elder shaman in an underground lair, who is none other than Charlie.  It is during this confrontation that he discovers a subterranean labyrinth of tribal wonders, items he attempts to take with him, particularly a stone mask that appears to resemble David.  In a fit of panic he drops the mask and escapes with intentions of warning about the last wave of destruction that will destroy Sydney, however, he fails to make it in time and falls to the ground to visions of the wave hitting the city.

As noted in the introduction, the film is incredibly concerned with colonization and its affects on urban Australia.  David is clearly the outsider to urban life, living in a nice home on the countryside, preoccupied with tennis and his well to do children.  Furthermore, he is a corporate tax lawyer and defends individuals who are clearly fine off as it is and have no need for more benefits.  It is not until the outsiders preoccupy his mind that he must acknowledge their presence, because he is literally unable to function without doing so, and it is only made clearer by the fact that his friends and wife dismiss his concerns as frivolous.  Only David is concerned with the struggles of these individuals because only he deals with it on a mental and visceral level.  Yet with all his concern for the Aboriginal peoples, he is not only incapable of grasping their ideals, but his inevitable exoticization of their culture leads him to a position of greed and lust that results in his downfall.  For David, it becomes a desire not to prove that the men are innocent, but instead to show that he has come to understand the inner working of an exclusive group...this is clearly not the case.  The wave that is to cleanse Sydney then becomes more relevant as it likely represents a removal of notions of class, race and perhaps gender from societal dominance.  Ironically, David cannot blame the native peoples for the apocalyptic results, because as he realizes upon finding his visage in a mask in the films closing scenes, it is wholly his fault from a position of power for not helping to end such destruction.  He and the world he comes from clearly ignored the destruction of those below and his slighted attempts at redemption were simply too little, too late. 

Key Scene: The opening sequence with the storm is rather intense and grabs viewers into what will be a crazy film.

The Last Wave is one of the lesser acknowledge films within The Criterion Collection, but as avid followers of the company know that usually means that it is one of the best gems in the entire catalog.  Do yourself a favor and pick up a copy, before it suffers the tragedy of inevitably going out of print.

For Your Awareness: Starcrash (1978)

In 1977, the world of sci-fi would forever change with the introduction of the masterpiece Star Wars.  It would be a harbinger of great and well-known space exploration movies, such as Alien and Serenity.  These movies in their own right would receive critical acclaim and advance what viewers came to expect from special effects in space movies.  This blog is not in any way about such a film, instead; it is about a little known Star Wars rip-off called Starcrash, a film that was directed and produce by Italians, but involved a slew of American and British actors.  However, to call it a rip-off is a bit problematic, because to be fair, the producers of Starcrash realized the imminent success of the Star Wars franchise and rushed a film into production.  Using a large amount of character arcs and plot twists from the now famous franchise, Starcrash exists as one of those so terrible it is endearing films that makes its rounds at midnight movie showings and on best cult classics lists.  It appears to border between taking itself completely seriously and not trying to push itself beyond its clearly restrained budget.  Furthermore, you can imagine that any movie involving David Hasselhoff, but the best part of this film comes from an inspired performance of recent Academy Award winner Christopher Plummer.  Essentially, Starcrash is glorious in its seemingly unending amount of "what the..." moments.

I will not bother with a plot explanation here, because it clearly parallels Star Wars in many ways and part of the enjoyability is making these connections during the viewing experience.  Not to mention it has a John Barry soundtrack that is both zany and grandiose.  I will instead tell you to keep an eye out for a few things throughout viewing Starcrash.  First off, continuity is thrown out the window in the film, something that makes a sci-fi film function.  Pay close attention to the amount of ships mentioned in any fight, this will help prove my point.  Secondly, the character of Elle (L) is magnificent, voiced by British folk musician Hamilton Camp, who dons a terrible American Southern accent, and is undoubtedly one of the funniest and most likeable parts of the film.  Thirdly, the women in the films are all ex-models, including one former Bond girl, Caroline Munro, and boy do they go through wardrobe changes, in many instances for no apparent reason.  However, as I noted before, the best part of this film is without a doubt Christopher Plummer.  He delivers monologues with such gravitas that you wonder whether or not he realized that everyone else round him could not act to save their lives.  From turn of the neck line deliveries to yelling out to "stop the flow of time," Plummer's performance culminates in one of the most ridiculous closing monologues ever put on film.  I hope one day to find it on the internet, because I will probably attach it to everything I post. 

Please do yourself a favor and buy this film on Bluray, it is worth getting and sharing with your friends.  Plummer, painted models, scantily clad women and Hasselhoff all combine for the makings of a filmic drinking game.  Also, I hear the commentary is something of unprecedented nerdom.  Shortly after watching you will become a "Crashhead," I know I am myself.

Hobo Stops Begging, Demands Change: Hobo With A Shotgun (2011)

Since the emergence of Tod Browning's 1932 film Freaks, a large group of directors have made it a goal of theirs to great the grotesque in moving imagery and continually push the boundaries on the unfilmable.  While much of this push towards more controversial filmmaking is spearheaded by autuer leaders like Takishi Miike, Lars Von Trier and Harmony Korine, independent cinema continues to provide its own slew of hyper-violent, bizarre and extremely watchable films. Jason Eisenger's recent offering of Hobo With A Shotgun is certainly no exception to this and is only made all the more entertaining by the always welcome presence of Rutger Hauer.  Hobo With A Shotgun is not a particularly profound movie and is far too on the nose to be a poignant social critique, but what a film like this does is allow for serious discussions on post-apocalyptic fears to become popular.  Like many zombie films, Eisenger's work really does beg the question of the values of morals when signifier of social order have become irrelevant.  The film is certainly exaggerated, but is clearly intended as a genre piece, yet if one can get through the seemingly unending stream of red corn syrup and the glossy help of technicolor, Hobo With A Shotgun is a thrill ride that will undoubtedly provide viewers with angst about the slow decay of Western civilization.

I could simply say that the title explains the entire film, because the film is more or less about a hobo ennacting justice with a shotgun.  Yet, there is a much larger plot that is well worth discussing.  The film begins with an unnamed hobo (Rutger Hauer) riding into a town on the rails of a train.  The town, once called Hope Town, is the center for all things depraved.  The hobo is aghast by the pure amounts of degradation occurring in the city, whether it be a filmmaker using his wealth to exploit the poor into demeaning themselves on film or the countless acts of rebellion enacted in the name of nothing.  The state of the town seems to be tied directly to the unchecked power of the wealthy Drake (Brian Downey) who along with this two sons Ivan (Nick Bateman) and Slick (Gregory Smith), act in a violent manner simply because they are without challenge.  While Drake is clearly in power, he outsources his actions to both Ivan and Slick, placing a heavy emphasis on his pride in Ivan.  The hobo has a run in with Slick at an arcade, in which Slick attempts to rape a young prostitute named Abby (Molly Dunsworth).  Enraged the hobo knocks over Slick and saves the girl completely ignorant to the status and power of Slick.  Grateful for the help Abby befriends the hobo, and with her help he is able to purchase a shotgun that provides him with power to counter the corrupt city.  The hobo is surprisingly successful in his actions making a name for himself as a super hero of sorts, while cleaning the city of scum.  Drake and his sons, however, loathe the actions of the hobo and make it a point to turn the city against him.   The hobo, despite overwhelming odds, confronts Drake and his cohorts known as The Plague in one final showdown, and when it appears as though he is to die, he is aided by Abby.  The hobo is given an opportunity to kill Drake only to be stopped at gunpoint by a group of police officers, who have to this point in the film been rather non-existent.  Realizing his death is inevitable he shoots Drake in the head, only to die in a storm of police gunfire.  The film then closes with Abby being invited to join The Plague as she is the only person to have successfully survived their onslaught.  The town is still in despair, but it appears as though the cleansing of the streets from the hands of Drake can assure some sort of decency in the future.

Hobo With A Shotgun mirrors a film like The Toxic Avenger rather nicely, in that it deals with a serious social problem in a very ridiculous way and makes no qualms about beating viewers over the head with its message.  The message is simple, those with power can exploit those without, and unless the powerless can unify together, the powerful will continue to rule with oppressive force.  Drake can control the city simply because he has the money, and those who are not easily persuaded by money can succumb to drugs.  This is clear when Slick uses cocaine to overpower a rival kid of relative wealth, causing the young man to become addicted and subsequently dependent on Slick as a source.  It also notes the problems of abject poverty and how nearly impossible it is to climb out of such a state.  The hobo simply desires to purchase a used lawnmower to begin his own business and survive.  Right as he is in the process of doing so he becomes stuck in the middle of a robbery which leads him to come into possession of a shotgun to stop the robber in his tracks.  Such a scene, amidst its violent nature, suggests that those in terrible situations often attempt to extradite themselves; however, those around them invariably influence them in negative ways.  Finally, the film posits the illogical nature of single person sacrifice.  The hobo tries desperately to avenge those who were degraded within Scum Town, but he never makes it clear that he is doing so for the entirity of humanity, in fact, in the epic scene in which he talks to a nursery full of babies, he makes it clear that the world will never change and that one must simply accept their task with a positive outlook, even if it means being a hobo who happens to wield a shotgun.  Though not sacrificial, it is clear that the hobo's death was not in vain, for he allowed other to realize that change is possible, but must be done so on a unified scale, for one man cannot perform the work of many.

Hobo With A Shotgun is a fun bit of film and a great piece of cinema to come from Canada.  It is exploitation filmmaking at its finest and well worth watching.  At the moment, it is on Netflix Watch Instantly and a quick flick that clocks in just under an hour and a half.

The Highjump Is A Masochists Event: Personal Best (1982)

Some movies try quite hard to approach subjects that are overlooked or misunderstood by general audiences.  When this works correctly, it is something amazing and often creates a cultural phenomenon relating to the subject of focus.  Robert Towne's study of female athletes in Personal Best is anything but this, because what could have been an engaging study of companionship and competition between women instead becomes an exploitative film that relies on crotch shots and excessive nudity to draw audiences in.  I will say that the film is quite well made and perhaps one of the best edited sports movies I have ever seen, however, the cinematic nature of the film does little to save the convoluted and misogynistic storyline from succeeding.  What Personal Best should have been was a revolutionary piece of athletic cinema, however, it borders on soft core pornography.  To further this, a film that deals heavily with the existence of homosexual relationships, fails to maintain their validity and results in a film that demands the necessity for heterosexual normalcy.  In short, Personal Best is a feminist's nightmare and has since become a stellar example of how not to make a socially progressive film.

Personal Best follows the experiences of two women athletes who become entwined in a romantic relationship while competing and training together for a spot on the American Olympic team at the 1980 Olympic games.  The women involved are the aging track star Tory Skinner (Patrice Donnelly) who is an open lesbian that realizes her time as a world class athlete are fading.  The other woman is the much younger and inexperienced Chris Cahill (Mariel Hemingway) who is as sexually inconsistent as she is on the track.  Chris's lack of productive results leads her to be taken under the wing by Tory who also possesses sexual feelings for Chris.  These feelings are enacted upon and the two become a couple and all seems all right until it becomes apparent that their off field relationship results in negative affects on their on field performance.  In order to correct this male coach Terry Tingloff (Scott Glenn) enters in to the picture to correct Chris and stop Tory from destroy both her and Chris's career.  Realizing that Chris is quite dependent on Tory, Terry interferes and begins flirting with Chris.  After successfully wooing Chris with affection and ice cream, Tory begins a fit of jealousy, which includes causing Chris to blow her knee while practicing the high jump.  However, almost inexplicably, the two mend their relationship as friends and Chris begins a new relationship with a water polo player named Denny (Kenny Moore).  In the trials for the Olympic Games, Chris and Tory work together to assure that both of them obtain spots on the Olympic team and the film closes with them celebrating their victory and Tory giving her blessing to Chris's new relationship, claiming that Denny is cute for a guy.  Ironically, in passing statement by a reporter, it is realized that the women's efforts are futile for the United States plans to boycott the Moscow Olympics.  This statement that seems arbitrary actually implies that the women's efforts are futile and irrelevant.

If it is not apparent that the film is problematic from the plot description, I will happily elaborate on its issues.  The first is the obviously exploitative nature of the film as it relates to lesbianism.  The film has multiple scenes that involve lengthy panning shots of Tory and Chris in bed or the women athletes in the spa, all of which appear to lack necessary placement in the film.  Furthermore, almost every segment of track and field filming involves crotch shots of the women, again for no obvious artistic reason.  Furthermore, the film implies that women athletes are incapable of being productive without the direct guidance of men.  In a lengthy diatribe, Terry explains that male athletes are inherently easier to coach because they lack feminine needs and emotional instability.  If these factors were not enough to make the film incredibly problematic, the fact that each woman in the film ultimately falls back on a man to assure her safety is the nail in the coffin.  Chris relies on the assurance of Denny both physically and emotionally for her success, while Tory ultimately confides in Terry for support, which is further problematized by the implication that the two have been intimate in the past.  It is a film full of plot gaps, exploitative dialogue and voyeuristic cinematography that has no purpose, besides what appears to be reaffirming the patriarchal ideals that would come to dominate the 1980's.  If this film is the supposed cult classic it appears to be, I would assume it is solely to its absurdity.

I have ragged on this movie quite a bit, with that being said, I would suggest watching it if you are at all concerned with gender studies.  It is an absolutely necessary piece of cinema to know about when discussing feminism and lesbian imagery in film.  As for owning a copy, well that is another story.

Nuns, Thorns, and Desire: The School of The Holy Beast (1974)

WARNING: This review contains graphic imagery and descriptions.


I often get on a soapbox about the American influences apparent in Japanese film, particularly as it relates to action, romance and indie films.  However, I have come to a very distinct realization following my recent viewing of The School of the Holy Beast, and that is that nothing is comparable to Japanese cult films.  They exist in their own world void of influence and logical imagery.  This is one of the most bizarre Japanese works I have scene, alongside Hausu and Jigoku.  The film is saturated with repressed homosexuality, sadomasochism and nudity...it is more reminiscent of a underground pornography than artistic filmmaking.  Despite this statement, it is a sound film that manages to take itself seriously at all the right moments and lay on the cheese at others.  It is a signifier of seventies filmmaking that is as iconic as it is abrasive. A gem of gore cinema that happens to deliver a rather large-scale critique of patriarchal opression in the most unconventional terms.

The film, in a rather nonchalant manner, follows Maya (Yumi Takagawa) a rebellious young woman who has taken it upon herself to seek reform at a local abbey.  From the onset, the abbey appears to be rather blasé, adhering to the regular practices of cleaning, cooking and singing as one would expect.  However, as Maya realizes during a night of restlessness, this particular abbey is preoccupied with punishment on a personal and abbey-wide scale.  As she watches a fellow nun flagellate herself to avoid sin Maya takes it upon herself to become a spy of sorts for the head nuns catching the other nuns in acts of theft, homosexuality and lesser "vices."  The punishments for actions include violent whippings and, as Maya discovers after her own immoral act, binding with rose branches.  These acts are done in the nude while the head nuns look on longingly.  This entire cycle of punishment is arced by Maya's fascination with the appointed abbey priest who appears to have sexual interest in many of the nuns, particularly Maya.  After a plot to exploit the higher nuns' indiscretions, Maya comes to realize the local priest is actually her father resulting in issues of incest and profanity, which is exemplified by a scene of Maya succumbing to pissing on a cross.  Surprisingly this dually degrading and gorgeously stunning film simply ends with Maya away from the abbey.  It is a nunsploitation film by definition and is loyal to the genre by showing only the images associated.


The film is obsessed with clearly demarcating all problems associated with patriarchy as it relates to religion, in this particular case Catholicism.  In fact, it is this critique that helps this film avoid being overtly degrading to women.  With the Laura Mulvey put aside, it promotes a rather freeing notion of femininity.  Each act of aggression, degradation and profanity is blatantly and inextricably tied to patriarchy.  The acts of punishment are done in the name of God and Christ, both obviously associated with maleness in the film.  Many of the nuns deaths are a result of phallic objects, the most obvious being one nun's death by falling on a priests staff.  Furthermore, the jealously and subsequent vengeance that exists in the abbey is almost wholly fueled by the lecherous priest who is involved with many of the nun's including both Maya and her mother.  It is a literal depiction of patriarchy screwing generations of women, a rather brilliant moment in a graphically driven film.  The film's characters even chastise acts of homosexuality for no apparent reason, yet refrain from noting the problems of incest and force intercourse with multiple problems, all with the intent to show a connection between the churches illogical views of unquestioned male superiority as it relates to patriarchal roots.  It is a film that uses exploitation as a guise, yet incorporates feminist critique between the lines.  It is brilliant but takes a close eye to catch.

The School of the Holy Beast is a graphic film and not meant for everybody, but for those who enjoy cult cinema, particularly from Asia, I would suggest getting a hard to find copy.