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.

You Lose Carl Miller!: Game Of Death (1978)

Usually it takes a lot for me to excuse a film for not being good, either it has to have an endearing quality about it so much so that I can look past its general awful nature and see the heart of a director and cast attempting with all earnest to pull something off, but failing in the end.  I am also willing to let a film slide a bit if it is the first of its kind to undertake a narrative, or in other cases revive a genre through a considerable revision, a prime example of this being the far from perfect The Blair Witch Project, that, nonetheless, garners unquestioned praise on my part for its reinvigoration of a then flailing horror industry.  The third situation where I am able to provide some leeway to a film is when tragedy results in a severe change to the production, but a product still manages to emerge.  A prime example of this being The Imaginarium of Dr. Parnassus, which met tragedy when its star Heath Ledger died mid-shoot, fortunately, a set of well-respected actors stepped in an made it a viable and decidedly watchable work.  It is this third scenario where a film like The Game of Death fits, because its star, the master of martial arts, Bruce Lee died from a traumatic head injury and was never able to complete the film, as such what exists is a series of fight  sequences including the late star and a film centering around revenge by a martial arts movie star for attempts at his death.  I mention that I find myself quite forgiving of this film, because so much of the first hour and fifteen minutes clearly reflects a sporadic and wild attempt at salvaging something worth delivering to audiences, but in its frantic execution it often comes off as dull or completely fabricated, never delivering the instant accessibility like Enter the Dragon.  It does not help that the replacement actors are clearly not Bruce Lee, nor does the awful dubbing lend to engaging cinema, often dropping lines completely or becoming so mumbled as to be inaudible.  However, those are the parts that do not contain the late Lee.  His portion of the film, the last twenty minutes are probably some of the best in all the genre, whether it be his fighting Kareem-Abdul Jabbar or chasing an old man on the rooftops of Hong Kong, it is indicative of action cinema at its finest, indeed, if Game of Death were just this as a short film, I would not be surprised if it were not considered to be one of the highlights of the genre, while also contending fairly well as one of the great short films of all time.  Unfortunately, what exists as Game of Death is a tacked on story that drags on, ultimately leaving viewers a bit unenthusiastic by the time real action does emerge on the screen.

The Game of Death clearly evokes the Bond espionage style right from the opening credits which include music by John Barry and credits design that could easily have been the product of Maurice Binder.  Nonetheless, the film begins by focusing on Billy Lou (Bruce Lee, Kim Tai-Jong, Yuen Biao) a martial arts star who has come under threat by a group of racketeers who think his success is a means to attack his wealth.  Refusing to pay the money demanded by the mobsters, Billy is shot on set by one of the lackeys in the syndicate, leading to what is assumedly his death.  However, it is revealed that while the bullet did do a considerable amount of damage to Billy, he has survived and can go on surviving if he agrees to getting plastic surgery, as it will help to hide him from the still working syndicate.  Reluctantly agreeing to do so, Billy gets the plastic surgery and while the scars are beginning to heal he plans his revenge upon the syndicate, while attempting to hide from his former girlfriend who has also taken it upon herself to exact revenge against the mobsters.  Realizing that he will have to move through the ranks in order to find out who ordered the hit on him, he begins by tailing various leaders through the docks of China, discovering that many of the henchmen are fighting within the Chinese martial arts circuit, specifically Carl Miller (Robert Wall) a rambunctious fighter who Billy confronts in his locker room after a fight, quickly destroying him with skill and power, much to the suprise of Miller's fans and the media present.  This fight does afford Billy with the information necessary to track down the syndicate boss Dr. Land (Dean Jaeger) whose slippery ways have placed him on the top floor of a pagoda, in which each level is protected by a kung fu expert.  Billy knowing that the only way to get his revenge is to move through the various encounters, some of which require him to wield weapons, while others require him to grapple more than strike.  Billy proves adept in each fight, often making quick work of his opponent, only ever seeming challenged by Hakim (Kareem Abdul-Jabbar), which is almost entirely a result of height differences.  Billy eventually makes it to Dr. Land's floor but the crime boss flees to the roof and while attempting to escape via a latter slips and falls to his death.  Billy has exacted his revenge in a theoretical sense, but as the closing shots suggest, frustration emerges in the knowledge that the death was not technically of his own doing.

The plot probably seems very straightforward and rather bare bones and that really is not the case, because there is assumedly a lot going on between the opening movie sparring between Billy and another martial artist, played by Chuck Norris, and what happens in the closing moments.  However, it is not worth considering, because in my book, and from what it seems others as well, Game of Death only matters for what Bruce Lee brings to the table, which in the case of Game of Death are martial arts skills so varied and realized as to be completely baffling.  As such, it is necessary only to consider what elements relate specifically to Bruce Lee's presence on screen, while he rocks his iconic yellow jump suit.  I will note that while the jump suit is bad ass, I am more a fan of the rad Adidas he wears., but I digress.  Were I to be a mad man in charge of film programming, I would do a double feature of Game of Death and Harold Lloyd's silent comedy Safety Last, which may not seem like an obvious connection since one is a hackneyed kung fu flick and the other is an early icon of slapstick comedy, but one could contest that in the cases of both films, it is entirely what happens in the last act that make the film memorable.  Furthermore, another obvious connection arises when one considers that both these closing acts concern trouble figures ascending from points of nothingness, for Lloyd's character it is from economic impoverishment, whereas, for Billy it is more of a Phoenix rising from the ashes, or as the film clearly suggest him to be, a christ figure.  The two are also expected to engage in this climbing by proving themselves worthy of extraordinary feats of strength and poise, while being challenged with a variety of absurd or insurmountable obstacles and often times it is a combination of both.  The films also manage to leave the result of the ascension rather ambiguous, particularly in the case of Game of Death where, given available archival footage, there were not many scenes to pull from for Lee, meaning that his staring off into the camera has nothing to move on to, which adds an eerie layer of regret to an otherwise action pact moment.  I know it is a stretch to pair the two, but the struggle for upward mobility metaphor is rampant in cinema, yet, these two films deal with the issue in a way so literal, as though to be mocking, yet both suggest that the endeavor is both valid and worthwhile, even if it seems daunting at the onset.

Key Scene:  As noted the last twenty minutes are glorious cinema.

This is available on Hulu, but the quality is horrendous.  To be honest, I would just suggest finding the last section online, it is much more worth watching than sitting through all the nonsense prior.

Deprived Of Lessons, I Decided To Run Away: Fantastic Planet (1973)

Some amazing films I come to the way of multiple suggestions from prolific and reliable sources, whether they be dear friends or noted critics.  Other wonderful experiences with films come from picking up a previously unknown film as part of a package or at a flea market both that probably lifted their merchandise from questionable sources to begin with.  I am fond of the results that come from both of these avenues of discover, however, there is a third set of discoveries that seem to be my personal favorite, those being the movies that I unearth during occasional bouts of insomnia or a general inability to sleep.  Usually hoping to find something with an ambiance or simplicity that will lull me into drowsiness and eventually sleep, I end up finding works whose surreal leanings and captivating narratives challenge my pseudo sleep state to its very core.  In the past movies of this vein have included the surprisingly poignant look at mental illness and online gaming through Ben-X, or jarringly, yet critically realized experimental films like Damned If You Don't.  Last night I found myself facing the rare moment of lethargic awareness and was hesitant to commit to anything lengthy and decided that the cult classic French animated film Fantastic Planet would serve as my point of viewing, because I assumed that it would be easily paused should my weariness overcome me, however, I realized almost seconds into the film, with a shrill opening and freaky aesthetic, that Rene Laloux's animated statement on the nature of human existence, would be stealing the next hour of my possible sleep and I was completely fine with that outcome.  Fantastic Planet, is as its name suggests very fantastical.  In the animation style made known by Terry Gilliam and famous by The Beatles Yellow Submarine, Fantastic Planet takes on a bizarre quality, full of humanoid figures whose blank stares and robotic movements both captivating and disconcerting.  The visuals alone could have been enough for me to completely embrace this work, but the fact that it makes very focused and astute statements about the existential being only add to its importance.  Honestly, I am surprised that I did not find myself completely haunted by nightmares when the film finally, and abruptly ended, its exhaustive nature proving the perfect dose to my quest for rest that happened immediately.

Forbidden Planet begins with the frantic fleeing of an unnamed woman who darts back and forth with her child in hand as objects inexplicably fall from the sky blocking her path of escape, suddenly and very intensely blue fingers and hands begin flying towards her, eventually grabbing her and lifting her into the air and immediately dropping her.  The pressure of the fall causing the woman to die as her young child looks on in a state of confusion.  The blue beings are known as Traags and tower over the small humanoid creature that they refer to as Oms, and aside from existing in a tribe-like state, the Oms are primarily seen as playthings for the Traag children, who are not yet capable of existing in a state of constant meditation like the adults.  One young Traag named Tiva decides to save the small child of the recently deceased woman Om, naming him Terr and teaching him the ways and world of the Traags.  Terr, realizing the wealth of knowledge in front of him, laps up everything that Tiva has to teach, in the process becoming a sentient creature aware of the relationship he possesses as a creature in relation to the Traags.  This leads to Terr fleeing in fear of his ultimate demise, bringing along with him a device used by the Traags in the hope that he can share the knowledge with other Om tribes living on the outskirts of the Traag fortress.  Now possessing the information most dear to the Traags the Oms mount a revolt, led by Terr that results in the first death of a Traag at the hands of Oms.  The Traags baffled by such a possible occurrence, up their "extermination" of the Oms in a stroke of genocide by poison gas.  Terr and a handful of other Oms escape the ordeal.  Eventually, with his expansive knowledge of Traag culture, Terr is able to take control of one of their devices, a laser that interferes in the Traags copulation thus breaking their hereditary line.  The Traags are forced then to acknowledge the presence of the Oms as something far more than playthings, but as a group equal to them in power and resilience, despite their relatively diminutive stature.  The film ends with a suggestion that the feuding between both groups has ended and that a peaceful coexistence has emerged between the Traags and Oms, one that is assumedly to last forever.

Fantastic Planet is one of those films whose true meaning, like its animation style is something familiar and identifiable, yet terribly intangible and clearly a simulacra of what a viewer would assume to be reality.  Leave it to a French animator to create such a film.  However, in its seemingly impossible nature, one can grasp multiple possibilities, ranging from realized statements on colonization and French guilt, to far reach introspective considerations on metaphysical identity as it relates to an insurmountable and endless universe.  I realize that to attack this film from any direction is to ultimately rely on reading specific moments or interactions and to invariably ignore others, but it is truly rare for a piece of film theory or criticism to appropriate every single frame and interaction into the larger theory.  As such, I want to touch upon the highly existential nature of this work, one that posits a world so left up to contingency, chance and an impossible control over things as to suggest that they are part of a game in which the Oms, an appropriate allusion to Hommes, the French term for humans.  I have talked about game theory in the past on the blog as it relates to a work like The Cooler, wherein the casino setting doubles as a metaphor for a person being subject to contingency and chance, even in the most seemingly assured of situations.  In Fantastic Planet this notion that a human is subjected to some game played by an unseen force, is placed in the metaphorical hands of the Traags who literally use Oms as their playthings.  Of course, the question then becomes what meaning arises from Terr's discovery of the cogs at work.  This is either a moment where he submits to the existential understanding that all is meaningless, aside from what he deems his own, in his case a quest for knowledge.  Another possibility is that the film is intended to depict a push toward enlightenment after being stuck in an existential malaise, in this the dreary and haunting presence of the Traags double as that constant woe resulting from meaninglessness.  Indeed, it is probably appropriate to read the work as a work about achieving enlightenment, at least in this case it makes the quite out of nowhere ending highly positive.

Key Scene:  People who have read many of my blog posts know I am a sucker for openings that immediately establish the mood and precedent for a film.  Fantastic Planet very much has such an opening and I promise you it will yank you into its world quickly.

Relatively cheap DVD's are available for this film, but since I intend to go region free with my bluray player in the upcoming months, I intend to get the French bluray that is available.  Should you be in that market, I would suggest doing the same.

You Can't Buy Your Way Out Of A Bad Impression: Pocket Money (1972)

While many times I just grab a quote that I find to be funny, poignant or cool as it relates to a movie, there is the rare treat of one of the pieces of dialogue perfectly summarizing everything about the film, unfortunately for Pocket Money the quote above reminds me of the ways in which Pocket Money fails. On paper, it should be absolutely perfect.  First, it stars Paul Newman who is a brilliant actor and certainly puts on a show here.  Second, it is directed by Stuart Rosenberg who I will always adore for creating my second favorite film ever Cool Hand Luke.  Finally, if these two high selling points were not enough the film was the result of a screen play by Terrence Malick, then simply known as Terry Malick.  You would think given my adoration for Malick (I thoroughly enjoyed To The Wonder and hope to review it come June) that it would be a selling point, especially since like Lynch, Malick has a way of capturing the midwest, as it is envision in this pseudo-modernist western.  All of these pieces would fit together brilliantly were it not for the tragic flaw in the execution of this film.  While Malick's script is clearly interjected with a degree of humor, it is not, I would argue, intended to be played out so comedically and Pocket Money, for all intents and purposes, is expressly a comedy.  Much like Badlands, the humor that pops up throughout is intended to highlight the ignorance of the young couple attempting to make it on their own in the vast wild world.  What is funny is only so because if viewers are not to laugh they will be forced to deal with the crippling tragedy of the innocence lost and decaying of American identity.  Much the same Pocket Money should not have been played so heavy-handedly for its laughs, instead allowing viewers to come to each encounter by way of self-reference and poetic simplicity.  Malick, Rosenberg and Newman could certainly have provided viewers with such a film and it would easily have been heralded as a great cinematic gift, perhaps even trumping each of the respected artists other works. Yet, this is not the case and Pocket Money goes the way of traditional comedic structure, making the critiques of modernity invading lower class America and the false notions of transparent borders seem absurd, when, in fact, the tragedy is so great that to laugh would also mean to share in a defeated agreement.

Pocket Money focuses primarily on the experiences of Jim Kane (Paul Newman) a cowboy and rancher whose recent trouble with a set of horses from Mexico has led to him becoming twisted in debt and looking for any means to escape with his head still attached.  Knowing full and well that he must take money from any avenue possible, Kane agrees to become involved with some under-the-table cattle purchasing for the slimy, drawl Bill Garrett (Strother Martin) and his lackey Stretch Russell (Wayne Rogers).  Given a wad of cash and the promise of reimbursement for expenses the men send Kane to Mexico to purchase a large head of cattle and ship them inconspicuously back through the American border while avoiding quarantine checkpoints and the like.  Upon arrival to Mexico Kane meets up with Leonard (Lee Marvin) whose presence seems almost absurd as he is, at best, a pseudo-ranch hand with his wide ties and hat more reminiscent of a fedora than a cowboy hat.  The two, nonetheless, work beautifully together knowing the magic of bartering often playing off of one another for their respective strengths to get proper deals.  Yet even as the two seem flawless at their jobs a variety of issues get in the way, mostly as a result of language barriers and disgruntled employees, leading to various issues, primarily Kane's brief arrest as a result of fighting a former worker whom Kane fired for his flippant attitude and lazy work habits.  Nonetheless, after scraping enough money together and getting the cattle to the border, Kane and Leonard manage to get them on an train and then on trucks to the meet-up point, of course, cheating their way out of having to pay considering that they have exhausted all resources and have yet to hear back from their employers.  Yet, a chance encounter with Stretch allows for Kane to get some of his money back, as well as discovering the location of Garrett's hotel.  Kane exacts some justice to get his money back, although it proves a bit futile because Garrett too has taken a hit due to quarantine regulations.  Ultimately, the pair of Kane and Leonard are shown awaiting a train to return home, defeated and broke, embracing what very little hope they have entirely in the strength of their relationship.

So while I am not overly thrilled by this movie and am quite frustrated by its genre execution, I am quite adoring of the commentary it is trying to bring forth, primarily the manner with which modernity has alienated the cowboy identity.  Kane is a person who expressly explains his own ignorance, often shying away from lengthy talks or shuffling about his engagements with brokers.  We are shown Kane engaging with a bank executive with such shyness and awkwardness one is led to believe that, psychologically speaking, Kane might be suffering.  Of course, he proves later to be rather adept and quite smart, it is simply a fear for the modern and non-traditional that troubles him.  This is further explained in his his encounters with the livestock auction.  Kane's unable to sell his horses because of some unusual blood issue that has resulted in their being quarantined, although the narrative seems to suggest that they will be fine upon release it is simply a precaution, if an excessive one at that.  The notion of modernity slips in here because Kane, a man who seems to come from a world of bartering and handshakes is baffled by such an precaution, especially since everything seems to suggest that the horses will be fine, perhaps only a decade earlier such paranoia would not have led to their unnecessary quarantine, instead; an agreement to take the horses on loan would have been worked out until they were healthier.  Furthermore, Kane clearly moves through a modernized world of drive-thrus and hotel swimming pools as an outsider, beautifully composed shots of Kane in the foreground, donning his sweat drenched cowboy hat are juxtaposed with children jumping in and out of a pool, Kane's refusal to move into this world, literally marking him as different and suffering as a result.  Of course, this is not to suggest that all of Kane's attachment to the past is to be embraced, in fact, his traditionalism also seems to afford him a belief system that degrades and others the Mexican community he encounters, talking in a foolish form of Spanglish and rejecting the food offered to him by a group he deems fit to dismiss.  In this case modernity has allowed for the advancement of a people and a huge boost in their own self-worth wherein Kane's refusal to adapt is ignorant and self-involved.  Perhaps the best moment of proper rejection on Kane's part comes after his semi-beatdown of Garrett. Kane understands that no amount of traditional talk will allow him to get to Garrett's wallet, therefore, he chucks the hotel television out the window, both a rejection of technology, as well as the reliance on such devices that Garrett and others seem to have.  Finally, it is implied at both Kane and Leonard, in all his city slicker glory, are the last vestiges of traditional western identity and as such desire to ride off into the sunset, but as the closing suggest modernity demands that they wait on a train in order to do so.

Key Scene:  The hotel beatdown is fun and one of the few moments that is acceptable as being played comedic.

I would discourage you from seeking this film out, despite its set of excellent elements they simply do not add up to what one would assume to be brilliant filmmaking.  There are other westerns, other Newman performances and certainly other Malick films well worth checking out instead.

A Friend Of Mine Went On Carousel, Now He's Gone: Logan's Run (1976)

The very nature of the dystopian sci-fi thriller is to lull audiences with awe-inspiring imagery only to counter such beauty with jarring realities of a nightmarish and terribly Orwellian futurescape, however, very few films manage to take the concept and stretch it out over a feature length film and not completely lose steam halfway through, this certainly happens at times during The Omega Man and Soylent Green, perhaps Charlton Heston is to blame.  However, when a director and its subject matter gets it right the result can be quite astounding, as is certainly the case with THX 1138, which is both a visual feast and a narrative masterpiece.  While not quite on the level of the early Lucas work, Logan's Run does indeed manage to be an impressionist vision of the future that substantiates itself with a stellar narrative and commentary on the future.  Hell, it even proves to have come out in one of the most seminal years in filmmaking, setting along side Taxi Driver, Cria Cuervos and Nashville, all films that i have provided praise for to some degree in on this blog, although the latter was, technically, released a year earlier.  Logan's Run is particularly good, because while it certainly makes viewers aware of its showy elements, whether they be the expansive miniature sets intended to display the future, or the heavy emphasis on stop-motion special effects and hand drawn animation, all elements exist as a means to expand on the story, as opposed to distract viewers from any degree of lack, although it is admittedly hard not to become completely overwhelmed by something like the carousel scene, which works on a highly poetic level, as well as a grounded undermining of the notion of moving on to a "better place."  I would argue that very few contemporary directors within the sci-fi genre manage to comprehend the future in quite this way, except maybe The Wachowski's but even then their works clearly exist with a degree of homage to this works Platonic philosophy.  If all of this fails to sell this cinematic masterpiece, there is some glorious hair going on that even includes the likes of a young Farah Fawcett.

Logan's Run is set in the future, 2274 to be exact, wherein lifespans cut off at the age of thirty and individuals are sent onto Carousel a spiraling upward magical ride that leads those at cut-off to a sort of rebirth, meaning, of course, that no individual within this society is old, nor has ever seen an old person.  While a majority of the citizens gladly embrace their assumed rebirth a considerable amount of individuals are suspicious of the carousel as a form of population control and attempt to avoid their turn on it, becoming known as Runners in the process, precisely because they must run away from the world in order to avoid such a fate.  In comes Logan 5 (Michael York) and his friend Francis 7 (Richard Jordan) as Sandman, whose jobs within this society are to prevent runners from escaping, even if it means killing them to do so.  Logan 5, unlike Francis 7 begins to reconsider his role as a Sandman, and his eventual fate at the carousel when he takes one runners possession to a processor, and discovers their ankh necklace to be a symbol of eternal life.  The computer in rebellion pushes Logan 5's processing date ahead, forcing him to flee in fear of carousel, becoming a runner himself, acquiring the help of another runner Jessica 6 (Jenny Agutter) to help escape the colony.  This escape leads them deep underground where they discover a frozen underworld in which the bodies of those runners frozen, as well as food kept from the outside world.  Box (Roscoe Lee Browne) a robot attempts to stop them from running, but Logan 5 and Jessica 6 eventually escape relatively unharmed, even managing to find the overgrown world of Washington D.C., although they are unfamiliar with it, finding a the aged statue of Abraham Lincoln quite bizarre.  During their exploration they met an old man, played supremely by Peter Ustinov, who explains to them the world outside of their colony, as well as the joys of growing old.  This revelation, in the eyes of Logan 5 and Jessica 6, must be shared with their colony, and after fighting off those who disagree, including Francis 7, they share the experiences of the old man with their colony, as they all begin to rise out of the cave of lies and false hopes of recycling.

While the main theme of this film certainly concerns issues of overpopulation, sustenance and fears of growing old, as do many science fiction works, it is hard not to consider how excellent of a consideration this is of Plato's Allegory of the Cave.  I know I refer to this quite regularly on the blog, but Logan's Run is truly a stellar adaptation of one of the great philosophers most universal teachings.  I will assume readers are quite familiar with this work and, as such, will not elaborate to heavily, however, I do want to note that it is essentially about living in metaphorical darkness, and seeing a light,  or becoming educated and attempting to share those realizations with persons still living in the darkness of ignorance.  Director Michael Anderson extends this notion to argue that the ignorance of people living in Logan 5's colony is a direct result of consumer excess, as much of the colony is quite reminiscent of a large shopping mall.  They chose to agree to young age and the comforts of conspicuous consumption, even fearing wrinkles or old age, let alone a person who even begins to question the possibility of something aside from carousel.  The film deals with seeing the light in a very literal sense, in that Logan 5 and Jessica 6 emerge from the cave into a blistering sun, although it to occurs in a educational sense, as they purposefully emerge in a dilapidated Washington D.C., a veritable locale of knowledge as guiding light.  However, it is their interaction with an individual who is equally, if not more, happy than they living outside the colony and growing old that inspires them to share their experiences, particularly those relating to learning.  It is also no accident, that the old man quotes T.S. Eliot, whose poetry would personify the idea of expanding the human consciousness to things beyond even the tangible, although as the closing moments of the film do emphasize, it is quite often the quantifiable elements that help move people from blind ignorance to enlightenment.

Key Scene:  The entire "face change" sequence is a god damn vision of cinematic dystopia, that is at once beautiful and nightmarish.

Buy this on bluray, it is a spectacle and well worth seeing in the highest quality possible.

These Aren't Drawings, These Are Pictures: Summer of '42 (1971)

HD is glorious.  I especially fancy this development as it relates to the grainy, soft-focus, Technicolor films of the 60's and 70's, Badlands being the best example I have seen to date.  Robert Mulligan, better know for To Kill a Mockingbird, provides such a film with his adaptation of Herman Raucher's memoirs of his own Summer of '42.  The film is not perfect.  The acting leaves much to be desired and often relies heavily on melodramatic elements to advance the plot, yet this coming of age tale offers moments of beauty, heartbreak and even an occasional laugh. I would call Summer of '42 one of those pleasant surprises that you stumble upon by accident.  It is certainly not The Graduate, but at times comes pretty damn close.

As is to be expected, the film follows the experiences of Hermie Raucher (Gary Grimes) as he spends a summer on an island with his "friends" Oscy (Jerry Houser) and Benjie (Oliver Conant).  I use the term friends lightly, because as the narrative progresses it is apparent that the Oscy and Benjie exist as barriers to Hermie's own maturity.  Hermie, as most young boys do, obsesses with an older girl from the town named Dorothy (Jennifer O'Neill) whose lover is shown leaving to fight in WW2.  As the film advances, Hermie grows distant from his immature friends obsessions with fondling breasts and playing at the beach to discover the pain and beauty of a first love.  In a moment of cinematic perfection Hermie visits a sullen Dorothy, at the recent discovery of her boyfriends death, and consoles her with a slow dance that completely changes the lightheartedness of the film up to this point.  The film ends with the narrator discussing his own loss that summer an experience that aging inevitably brings.

In regards to critical analysis, I have nothing to offer, but I do want to note the aesthetic brilliance of the film.  As noted earlier, it is done in a soft-focus with natural lighting.  The film employs jump cuts, fade-ins, fade-outs, and match cuts to create the impression of nostalgia.  You are not only hearing the ramblings of an aging man, you are also witnessing the flashes of fading memories.  This existence is only heightened by the film beginning with still images, implying that such fluid remembrance come from the glossy pictures of years gone by.  If you enjoyed The Graduate, The Outsiders or early Terrance Mallick than I highly suggest this film.  It is currently offered in HD for those with On-Demand, but for the time being, the DVD version will have to do, because, sadly, no Blu-Ray copy exists.