Reviews

It's not often we're blessed with renowned Los Angeles musician John Doe in the lead of a feature film: a resume where the 1992 biker-road flick "Roadside Prophets" (1992) serves as one of the rarities, while the 2007 rom-com "Ten Inch Hero" (2007) offers one of his best.

Upon first awareness of John Doe fronting this noir thriller helmed by ex-radio DJ-turned-filmmaker Kurt St. Thomas (the duo filmed 2001's "The Red Right Hand"), fans clamored for this loosely-based, retro-remake of the Rudolph Maté classic (cinephiles recall Maté was the cinematographer on Carl Theodore Dreyer's 1932 masterpiece, "Vampyr," as well as the director of the 1951 sci-fi disaster classic, "When World's Collide").

How did this St. Augustine, Florida-produced film come to fruition?

As with the four previous remakes of the 1950 original -- the Australian-made "Color Me Dead" (1969), the "official" Dennis Quaid remake (1988), a modernized inversion starring Jason Statham, "Crank" (1988), and the poorly-received "Dead on Arrival" (2017; starring the likable DB Sweeney as the modernized gumshoe) -- a copyright clerical error at Cardinal Pictures, the production company behind the noir original, lapsed the story into the public domain.

Of the above noted remakes -- and while most of the plot elements of this $50,000-budgeted production are original to the film -- this is the most faithful adaptation, courtesy of St. Thomas producing it as a black and period piece set in 1949. His choosing to set the noirish narrative in the quaint, seaside town of St. Augustine, Florida -- with its photogenic mix of 19th century and '50s-styled architecture, including a spotlight of the town's 1870-built lighthouse -- lends to the film's authenticity; a realism buoyed by production designer Bonnie Druckenmiller acquiring period-correct vintage cars, as well as dressing makeshift warehouse, set-built hospital rooms with a major studio-level quality on a shoestring budget.

Another highlight is the black and white camera work by 2nd unit/camera department warhorse Peter Berglund (2009's "Iron Man," 2012's "Dredd," and 2015's "Straight Outta Compton"). On a production that couldn't afford a steady cam or chapman dolly -- to pull off a stunning dolly shot with a $50.00-used wheelchair acquired from a local Goodwill -- well, the next time Berglund's name appears on a film's credits: I'm streaming that film.

For those not familiar with the noir genre, they can rely on this Nicholas Griffin-penned screenplay (2003's "Matchstick Men" starring Nicolas Cage; 2010's "Knight and Day" starring Tom Cruise) as a well-written introduction -- and a refresher course to noir fans -- that'll inspire a (re)watch of the original. It will also inspire one's exploration of the unfamiliar acting resume of John Doe: perhaps you recall his sniveling turn as Pat McGurn in 1989's "Road House," as one of his many support roles in over sixty films.

As was Edward O'Brien in the original: John Doe is Detective Frank Bigelow. In voiced-over flashback: he confesses a story of being hired by a femme fatale socialite that leads to his deadly poising -- and his against-the-clock investigation to find the killer. Clues discovered during the investigation are offered by the familiar, always-welcomed TV/film actors Lucinda Jenney (2019's "Three from Hell") and John Byner (1983's "Stoker Ace" with Burt Reynolds, 1997's "Wishmaster"). Yes, that's former "120 Minutes" MTV VJ Matt Pinfeld antagonizing John Doe -- and he equally shines in his support role.

If you enjoyed Joel and Ethan Coen's "The Big Lebowski" (1998) -- itself based on the detective fiction of Raymond Chandler, books which fueled several film noirs of the '40s and '50s -- you'll enjoy this updated homage to the era. As with that Coen-made, noir-inversion: the reviews on Kurt St. Thomas's take will probably be streamer-mixed-to-the-negative due to its against-the-budget, independent production values that those weaned on major studio films may not appreciate; however, reviews on the Coen's (major studio) effort eventually shifted to the cult status-positive.

This professionally-produced film noir redux on a budget quickly became a multiple film festival award winner that quietly made its debut on steaming platforms in October 2023. It's a highly-suggested watch, for it is independent filmmaking at its finest.

A star-making turn by long-time, Detroit theatre warhorse Roosevelt Johnson compliments this self-produced and distributed neo-urban noir directed by noted gospel music producer Joe Smith (his second film) and his producing partner, Detroit-based actor Dejaun Ford.

As with any proceedings of noir past: it's the Shakespearian twists that keeps one guessing and keeps one watching. At first glance of the theatrical, Tubi-one-sheet: you think you're getting a horror film, as a rag-tag group battles a supernatural force (and in a way, they do, just not in the way expected). Then, when the bible verse/opening title card of Psalms 91: 1-2 appears: you believe you're getting a Christian cinema tale of redemption (and, in a way, you do, just not in the light-hearted way you expected).

Pastor James Mitchell (a solid, you-want-to-see-more James Abernathy) oversees the flock of a successful, inner city Detroit church -- but he's lost the "faith" of his two, most-important sheep: his teenaged daughter and son. The street-sassy Tameka (Martina Motley in a fine, leading-lady debut) has taken up a life of crime with her hard-nosed lesbian lover, RIP (an engaging, cinéma-vérité-styled acting turn by J Loud). Chris (a good Bryson Steen), envious of his sister Tameka's new-found freedom, quickly follows in her criminal footsteps -- just as RIP (along with her crew of Malik Frazier, as Trey, and Dejuan Ford, as Martrez) decides to raise the stakes from their usual carjackings -- to more lucrative home invasions. Their first target is the well-off, kindly and charismatic gentleman of the neighborhood, the God-loving Mr. Gilmore (again, the mesmerizing Roosevelt Johnson) -- who is not the "old man" he seems to be.

Unlike most indie-streamers galloping Tubi's low-budget tundras suffering cinematography faux pas, Thomas Pawlowski keeps the story professionally-framed and image-sharp: all of the pick-ups, coverage and reverses you expect in a major-studio picture -- ones usually lacking from indie streamers, are here. Courtesy of editors Doug Jezak and Charles Spudd Spence, "Dance with the Devil" sticks to the story with an appreciated, tight running-time of 73-minutes that keeps the proceeding constantly moving, as an unknown -- but far from unskilled cast -- keeps the viewer engaged until the film's shocking, Tarantinoesque downshifting conclusion.

Here's to hoping casting directors and show runners see "Dance with the Devil" and place calls to Roosevelt Johnson, James Abernathy and J Loud: they are oh-so-ready for guest-starring turns on a major network and cable-streaming dramas.

As much as the drive-in obscure "Drag Racer" (1970) (previously IMDb-reviewed) is the quintessential drag racing drama, "A Great Ride" is the ideal motocross drama of the 1970s -- albeit the acting and cinematographer, here, is superior. Independent and low-budget-crafted, "A Great Ride" is an expertly-directed film that served as B-studio soundtrack composer Don Hulette's passion project. A child piano prodigy, as well as a successful Porsche and Lotus road racer in his teens, he made his directing debut with Chuck Norris's US film debut, film "Breaker! Breaker!" (1977).

While the drag-racing latter is more dramatic-driven -- with its ne'er-do-well punk who finds his place in the world of NHRA racing -- here, we get the same (but a decade late) existential counterculture flick of the "Easy Rider" (1970) variety. One will recall that 20th Century Fox's analogous "Vanishing Point" and Universal Pictures' "Two-Lane Blacktop" (both 1971; but with cars) were the subsequent responses to that Columbia Pictures-distributed hit. Motorcycle enthusiasts watching "A Great Ride" will cite United Artists' "Electra Glide in Blue" (1973) as another "road trip" movie examining the era's establishment verses counterculture wars. The questions pondered by our off-road dirt bikers, here, remains: What is freedom. What does one do with freedom once found. What will you do if someone tries to take freedom away?

That storyline, co-written by TV scribe Walter Dallenbach (from the '70s "Adam 12" to the '80s "The Fall Guy" to '90s "Law and Order") and screenwriter Thomas Pope ("The Manitou" and "The Lords of Discipline") was inspired by the national media attention dirt bike riders received for their defying the US Bureau of Land Management by racing across (i.e., "damaging," per the government) federally-protected lands -- in a quest to secure civil rights for public land use.

Our "Wyatt" and "Billy," here, are professional motocross racers: the level-headed Steve Mitchell (TV actor Michael Sullivan) and his impetuous protégé Jim Dancer (Perry Lang; later of the major-studio pictures "The Big Red One," "1941," and "Eight Men Out"). Another set of championship trophies in hand, the duo embarks on an openly illegal, never-before-done off-road trip from the Mexican to Canadian borders. During the journey, adventurous, disconnected vignettes ensue as our dust-devils meet the roadside deserts' colorful denizens (e.g., a soft-sexual encounter with an attractive middle-aged woman operating a dusty junkyard) before engaging in an off-the-cuff road race with a local hotshot who accidentally dies. The youth's crazed, paramilitary father (an excellent turn by longtime TV actor Michael MacRae; he collects scorpions and re-assembles M-16s by egg timer) seeks revenge in a souped-up, flood-lighted, scorpion-emblazoned pick-up truck (complete with a '70s-styled onboard computer that calculates fuel consumption and tracks our heroes!). That imposing danger, of course, doesn't stop our moto-lads from engaging in more soft-sex-by-campfire with two ATV-driving hippie chicks, and other freedom-seeking proclivities.

While one may not find that plot engaging, there's no denying cinematography warhorse David Worth (1975's "Poor Pretty Eddie" and 1977's "Death Game"; came to lens films for Clint Eastwood) and editor Steve Zaillian (came to script 1993's "Schindler's List" and 2019's "The Irishman") expertly captured and assembled Hulette's passion project; either in the blazing sun or moonlit dark, this film looks incredible. The soundtrack, composed by Hulette, is complemented with songs by Birdy Numnums, aka bassist Trace Harrill and drummer F. Scott Moyer; Harrill is noted for his work with actor-musician Kim Milford (7th Heaven) and his membership in ex-Byrds Gene Clark's Firebyrd.

One's '70s motocross-movie cravings can be completed with more films that expertly capture the sport on the quality-level of "A Great Ride": the early Robert Redford obscurity "Little Fauss and Big Halsy" (1970), the Academy Award-nominated documentary "On Any Sunday" (1971), the TV-movie made "Pray for the Wildcats" (1974), the Marjoe Gortner/Michael Parks-starring "Sidewinder 1" (1977), the British sports-drama "Silver Dream Racer" (1980) starring musician David Essex and Beau Bridges, and the early Paul Verhoeven-directed, Netherlands-made, "Spetters" (1980).

For more on the work from Don Hulette, Walter Dallenbach, and Perry Lang: check out the martial arts romp "Death Machines" (1976), "David Cassidy: Man Undercover" (1978), and the daytime after school special gem, "Hewitt's Just Different" (1977), respectively.

If you're a horror hound, you'll enjoy watching the facial transplant sub-genre oeuvre of Georges Franju's "La Yeux Sans Visage" (aka, 1960's Eyes without Face, aka The Horror Chamber of Dr. Faustus), Jess Franco's "remake" with "The Awful Dr. Orloff" (1962), and his racier-gorier sequel-remake of that, with "Faceless" (1988). Then there's Hiroshi Teschigahara's Asian take on the genre with "Tanin no Kao" (aka, 1966's The Face of Another). Then there's Robert Hartford-Davis's take with the Derek and Donald Ford-penned "Corruption" (1968) starring Peter Cushing. One may also call up John Frankenheimer's "Seconds" (1966) with Rock Hudson, but that's a suspense thriller, not a gory-horror film -- and if you replace Rock with the Cage, and add over-the-top action, you'll get John Woo's "Face/Off" (1997).

Then there's this face ripper by Italian (sometimes Spaghetti Westerns) director Sergio Garrone -- a Turkish co-production alternately titled "Evil Face" -- that can easily be mistaken as the same old slash n' cheeks peel. Oh, but this face-cutting entry has two things going for it: the nudity and gore that's absent from its surgical precursors (well, expect for "Corruption"), and always-worth-the-ticket-price Klaus Kinski as its star. We know the drill with Kinski: Klaus is an all-in-or-nothing actor: for he was Nicolas Cage before Nicolas Cage. And Kinski never met a character with a kink he didn't like. And if not possessed with a psycho-sexual glitch, Klaus Freuds' em up, himself: for even though he referred to most of his horror oeuvre as "horrible movies," he still gave them his all.

Garrone utilized the Roger Corman-ethos of filmmaking with "The Hand that Feeds the Dead": he shot it back-to-back with "Lover of the Monster," his other, similar 1974 Kinski-Christine starrer. And as with the many Corman productions: you'll notice both Garrone-Kinski horrors utilize the same sets and actors, as well as a few scenes that are shot-for-shot identical. Not that it matters, since it's unlikely most people -- as with Corman's celluloid recycles -- seen both films back-to-back during their initial 1974 drive-in days.

THE PLOT

After world-renowned surgeon Baron Ivan Rassimov suffers a horrifying death in a laboratory fire, Tanja, his daughter (the makes-your-heart-weep Dutch beauty Katia Christine, adored for her many French and Italian films from the '60s through the '70s for the likes of Gordon Hessler and Louis Malle), lives in seclusion and wears a veil to conceal her own facial mass of scars.

An ex-student of her father's, Professor Nijinksi (Klaus Kinksi), married Tanja (out of loyalty; but also of kink) and carried on Rassimov's skin-grafting experiments -- with the goal of restoring Tanja's face. However, as with most of these mad-doctors restoring beauty or reanimating the life of a loved one: the flesh, the blood, or some mixture of bodily fluids from beautiful (never the physically unblessed, natch) victims are needed to complete the experiments. To that end: Kinski and his "Igor" venture into the local village to kidnap women and peel off their faces (via graphic, and very impressive, in-camera effects by the great Carlo Rambaldi of "Alien" and "Dune" fame).

WRAPPING IT UP

"The Hand that Feeds the Dead" is easily found as a Blu-ray/DVD released in August 2020 through Charles Band's Full Moon Direct imprint. That cut is now easily streamed on your favorite platforms.

If you peek under "critic reviews," you'll find my impressions of Kinksi's '60s horror films "Double Face" and "Slaughter Hotel" (both 1968), and his later sci-fi'er with Harvey Keitel, "Star Knight" (1985). While at B&S About Movies, search for my Kinski tribute features "Drive-In Friday: Klaus Kinski vs. Werner Herzog" and "Drive-In Friday: Kinski Spaghetti Westerns," for a night of viewing.

This long-gestating, vanity-passion project by B-movie and US television actor James Hong (!) -- set in the could-have-been intriguing world of Chinese mysticism -- received major press in the genre magazines at the time. Today, in October 2023 -- fed by later DVDs pressed by Anchor Bay (2001), Image Entertainment (2011), and Arrow Films (2013), as well as a DVD/Blu-ray combo from Vinegar Syndrome (2019) -- "The Vineyard" is easily watched as a free-with-ads stream on Tubi.

So wasn't the case in 1989.

Until that first, Anchor Bay DVD in 2001: finding a copy of "The Vineyard" was an impossible task. First, the New World Pictures-imprint received a failed, halfhearted theatrical release; the same goes for its home video release. Across several video store memberships back in the day -- with two major chains and an array of mom n' pops -- not counting the ones where I wasn't a member that I'd road trip for a cut-out bin divin' weekend: there were no copies to be found. In fact, the distribution was so bad, the film's appearance in home videopedias was hit-and-miss, as if the film never existed.

It wasn't until a few years later that I found a bootlegged-rental copy (clamshell'd with a Xerox'd cover) at my local comic book store: the same fate-discovery I experienced with the little-known "The Spirits of Jupiter" (1984), "Cards of Death" (1986), and Roger Corman's (uh-huh) un-released version of "The Fantastic Four" (1994).

So, was "The Vineyard" worth the wait?

Nope. For this isn't a human-liquid version of the human-sausage horror-satire brilliance that was "Motel Hell" (1980) -- with a hayseed grinding up wayward travelers to his remote farm-cum-smokehouse (in fact, "The Vineyard" cops a head-sticking-out-of-the-dirt-whispering-"Help Me" gag from that film).

The hackneyed proceedings start off hopeful, as it all takes place at Oakland's Dunsmuir Mansion (well, at least the exteriors; the rest was shot in San Diego) -- yes, that's Morningside Mortuary for all you "Phantasm" fans. Sadly, "The Vineyard" offers none of the spunk 'n charm of that multiple-watchings classic in its tale of a group of twenty-something awful thespians (who would NEVER be friends in real life) lured to an island mansion for a bogus film shoot. While there, they have their blood neck-drained -- from the comforts of hanging wrist-chained in a wood-paneled wine cellar -- mixed with shavings from an ancient jade amulet to create a youth wine-cum-elixir.

As much as James Hong is simply fantastic in his Lo Pan 2.0 role from "Big Trouble in Little China" (1986) as the eternal-life searching, evil doctor and winemaker Dr. Elson Po (who's been at it since the 1800s down in the Yucatan Peninsula) that's how awful the acting is by the rest of the cast -- especially the stunt casting of March 1982 "Playmate of the Month" Karen Witten (which is why, after looking at their respective IMDb credits, most of the cast was of the one-and-done variety).

Then there's the all over-the-place narrative as "The Vineyard" goes from comedy to horror to action, never to make up its mind. Sure, there's a couple of great, in-camera effects set pieces: one character barfs-up spiders, another sprouts voodoo-doll needles out of his neck; there's zombies of past victims rising from their vineyard graves. But that's after we deal with an awkward costume party (with Hong's weird-as-he-wants-to-be dancing), Porky's-styled lingerie keyhole-peeking by geeks, out-of-place kung fu fights (complete with ubiquitous, '70s-styled sound effects), and characters vanishing for long periods then reappearing for no apparent reason as they change romantic partners at-will (Witten's Jezebel seems to have three "boyfriends" during the course of the plot).

Yeah, "The Vineyard" hasn't aged well during its '80s home video-to-naughts streaming fermentation. For when a film has six producers, four screenwriters, and three directors (the other directors are William Rice and cinematographer John Dirlam), each with their fingers in the vats, you'll end up with sour grapes.

It all ends with the zombie-eaten-aged Po rising from the dead himself, screaming "Where's my Amulet!" to tease a sequel. Oh, what could have been: for Elson Po had the makings of the next "Tallman," indeed.

This delightful, sometimes-cringy-in-a-good-way comedy (that reminds of moments in NBC-TV's "The Office"; more with Andy Bernard than Micheal Scott) is the type of movie the indie '90s used to make: a well-made, low-key release under the Miramax or Fox Searchlight shingle that screened at one-theatre that required a fifteen-mile drive to see.

As I wax nostalgic for those indie-days of seeing the great Catherine Keener (from "The 40-Year-Old Virgin," natch) in "Walking and Talking" (1996): I can see Ms. Keener as the ne'er-do-well Susan O'Connell. If "Lazy Susan" was made during Melissa McCarthy's pre-television stardom years -- remembering her appearing in under-the-radar oddballs like "Pumpkin" (2002), and recalling her later, acidic turn in "Tammy" (2014) -- she would have worked wonders with the Susan O'Connell role. That same devil's advocate-casting applies to the film's co-star, Allison Janney: If "Lazy Susan" was made around the time of her appearance in "Howard Stern's Private Parts" (1997), considering her similar-offensive, no "inner voice" Bonnie Plunkett-role in CBS-TV's "Mom," she would also make a great Susan O'Connell.

So, as I Tubi-streamed the unknown-never-heard-of-it "Lazy Susan" in quick succession after back-to-back viewings of the fun, indie quirky-similar "Lars and the Real Girl" and the discomforting "Big Fan" -- and not recognizing the actress on the theatrical one-sheet/avatar -- I thought I was getting another unknown, up-and-coming, New York stage actress -- either Carrie Aizley or Darlene Hunt (?) -- making the transition-to-film as the frumpy, unmotivated Susan O'Connell.

It took several minutes to realize -- in a testament to how effective he is in the role -- Sean Hayes was Susan O'Connell! Would there be a "Tootsie" or "Mrs. Doubtfire" styled-reveal in the frames; perhaps -- remembering Felecity Huffman's award-winning turn in "Transamerica" (2005) -- this is a modern-day dramedy about a transwoman?

I am delighted to say that it is none of the above!

Let's not forget that cross-gender acting -- of male actors playing a character of the opposite sex -- dates to Greek and English renaissance theatre. That's what's happening, here. Sean Hayes isn't making a cisgender statement movie: he's an actor (and a great one; watch his work as Jerry Lewis in the 2002 TV movie "Martin and Lewis") in a role. Period. Recalling the over-the-top nature of his critically acclaimed work as Jack McFarland in NBC-TV's "Will & Grace," Sean Hayes impressively pulls back the reins. His quirky, art-collaging Susan O'Connell is a perfectly pitched, grounded, non-campy performance: Susan is real and not a (cliched-hysterical) parody of woman. This is exactly what Ms. Keener, McCarthy, or Janney would have brought to the role, as well as Jennifer Aniston; remembering how great she was in "The Good Girl" (2002) as the indifferent retail cashier -- and far above and beyond an Adam Sandler "Jack and Jill" (2011) joint.

"Lazy Susan" is -- in the tradition of the indie-sleeper hits "Napoleon Dynamite" (2004) and "Little Miss Sunshine" (2006) -- a delightful film rife with quirky characters (Susan's married bestie wants to put together a duo with her on the ukulele and Susan on the flute -- playing Violent Femmes' tunes!) stumbling through life with lost hopes and dreams, with one as disconnected, vapid, and selfish as the other, as they find their true selves and mend their past for a better future.

I was not aware of Paul Street's writing and directing work prior to watching this "Tubi Exclusive" that appeared first on my list, this morning. Now that I am aware of his work, I'll search out his previous films -- and keep aware of his future works (as well as from his great cast).

Courtesy of Street's tight scripting -- as well as his directing, and with great editing -- Safehouse comes in at an appreciated 80-minute running time. The cinematography is effectively framed and crystal clear; so while released as a streaming exclusive, Street delivers us a theatrical-level film. Its battle of wits between CIA agents, drug cartel baddies, and contract assassins is a tale that keeps you guessing -- and watching to see where it will all go. (Nope, no plot spoilers, here: this page's effective logline and plot summary takes care of that, for you reading this review.)

The casting is also appreciated; Street could have easily dealt us the name-on-the-box switcheroo, you know: like so many of the later-day Bruce Willis, Eric Roberts or Tom Sizemore streamers we've enjoyed (well, I do). Street could have also kept the action male-centric; instead he offers us well-written, strong female roles that belong here -- with one that allows newcomer Alondra Delgado, as our damsel, to shine. Overall, Street gave a wonderful opportunity to a collective of unknown actors -- and there's not a bad performance among them. Robert Seay is a standout as the lead CIA agent who seems dirty, at first, but comes to have a heart inside him.

In the special effects department: Unlike most budget-conscious indie streams that go the CGI route, all of the gun play and blood splatter is all effectively done in-camera -- and if it is not, well, then CGI-made blanks, squibs, and blood packets have gotten better because it all looks real to me.

I am glad I took a chance on that Tubi suggestion; I think you will feel the same.

So, was it worth the sixteen-year wait to see Zzyzx for the first time on Tubi?

Well, it's better than I expected and exactly what I expected. It streamed neither with a bang nor a whimper, but with a shrug.

Zzyzx -- and the production-confused Zyzzyx Road -- are essentially the same desert-based neo-noir sparsely populated by humans enchanted or possessed by the arid landscapes fracturing their psyche, inspiring them to indulge their darkest desires based in revenge and deceit. The former is the more graphic, The Hills Have Eyes-inspired of the duo (right down to the motor home). Both have small casts of three main characters: two men (one macho, one wimpy) and one femme fatale. And someone -- in the middle of the desert where there's no traffic or pedestrians -- still manages to get hit by a car. And both center on sad sacks hittin' it big in Vegas -- and scoring an ulterior-motives babe, natch.

As its non-linear tale unspools, Kenny Johnson's Lou is a macho, already-tweaked Gulf War veteran (the war flashbacks are toy-store inaccurate-cheap) in a The Grapes of Wrath-styled relationship with his "Lennie Small": Ryan, a wimpy computer store clerk enamored with the "Blair Witch" web-based mysteries surrounding Zzyzx: a deserted town on the southwestern edge of the Mojave Desert. A Mansonesque cult leader (who we never meet) resides out there, Spahn Ranch-style, broadcasting static-filled sermons from a remote radio station (who we never hear, except for garbled static) -- which leads us to believe a possible "supernatural comeuppance" awaits. (Daniel Myrick low-budget blockbuster reminds; he, and this film's director, Richard Halpern, have worked together on four films.)

Traveling down Zzyzx Road, Lou and Ryan bicker behind the wheel; they hit Manny: a heavy-set Native American man stumbling in a drunken stupor along the roadside; Candice, our femme fatale appears: she's looking for her newlywed husband who went to get help, as their RV is stuck in the sand. And Lou hatches a plan -- and harangues Ryan -- to cover up Manny's death.

Is our Candice (Lou classifies her as "hot") just another desert siren leading men to their doom? Is she just another cold, greedy noir-woman -- with a couple of ice-cold six packs and psychedelic mushrooms in the fridge and a coke-filled Altoids tin?

The film opens with a creative, opening title cards sequence: as Lou and Ryan travel out of Los Angeles toward the Mojave, credits appear on road signs and billboards amid their dialog; Richard Halpern's directing credit appears on a truck's bumper sticker: "How's My Directing? Call ###-###-####." Very cool.

While many critiqued the cinematography as "amateur," "shot on a phone," and "too Blair Witchy," the soft-focus cinematography's "gritty, rough and hazy images" are an artistic choice -- not technical ignorance -- that work hand-in-hand with the hot, dusty environs; the handheld shakiness of the camera lends to the film's disjointed, surreal vibe. Art D'Alessandro's scripting -- in conjunction with director Richard Halpern's editing -- develops an interesting visual style in structuring the film's drug-fueled flashbacks (by all three characters) as a rewinding VHS tape -- complete with washouts, squeals and scratches. How was this shot: film or video? Did cinematographer Jean Senelier break out an old Bell & Howell 16mm camera to achieve the documentary-style of the film, à la 1972's The Last House on the Left?

Zzyzx is certainly not the "Best Indie Film Seen in a Decade," but it's certainly not the worst indie film seen in a decade. I give this 5-stars, a half-star less than the other film about the road in the Mojave.

You can visit my expanded, full review at B&S About Movies -- which also delves into Zyzzyx Road. You can find me under "critic reviews" for both films.

No, it's not.

For all the bad press heaped upon Zyzzyx Road from various online critics: professional journalist and bloggers both, their QWERTY-bashing is based on the film's box-office notoriety and not the film's production quality, itself. Thus: bad box office means inept film.

Sure, one can name drop the fellow box-office failures of Heaven's Gate, Ishtar and Plan 9 From Outer Space in a sentence alongside Zyzzyx Road, but writer-director John Penney is no Tommy Wiseau in either department and Leo Grillo is no Neil Breen in the thespin' arena.

As Jeffrey Ressner accurately opined in his February 2007 review on the digitized pages of Time-CNN, Zyzzyx Road aspires as a noirish road picture in the vein of Red Rock West (a stellar, 1993 John Dahl film starring Nic Cage) or U-Turn (a not-as-stellar Sean Penn-starrer directed by Oliver Stone).

What rises Zyzzyx Road to that Dahl-Stone comparison (at least in its visual quality): Director John Penney hired Kevin Smith's go-to cinematographer, David Klein, who framed Clerks, Chasing Amy, Cop Out and Red State (he's since moved on to multiple episodes of HBO's True Blood and Disney's The Mandalorian). Together, with production designer Dorian Vernacchio (Hellraiser: Bloodline and TV's Babylon 5), they effectively capture the remote, Mojave parcels, making great use of an existing desert dumping site and its abandoned buildings, as well as an old mine left over from the days when the lands past Zzyxz Road was a hick town-mining community. Shooting in the desert-under direct sunlight, where lens-flares are the norm-the proceedings are far from amateur.

John Penney's script -- while far from being an Arthur Miller-inspired "Greek Tragedy" it wants to be -- deploys a non-linear approach and begins In medias res -- and probably inspired by the likes of Humphrey Bogart's Dead Reckoning (1947) and the William Holden-starring Sunset Blvd. (1950) and, of course, more so: the film adaption, Death of a Salesman (1951). Structurally, Penney's debut rises not to neither of those classics; for it unspools as a extended, '60s episode of The Twilight Zone (or HBO's '80s mystery-horror variant, The Hitchhiker) that leaves the proceedings not as noir cut-and-dry as most reviewers lead us to believe. Yeah, this would have worked much better as a 20-minute anthology segment (rife with sub-text) than a full-length feature film.

And to say more would be plot spoiling. I'll give this 5 1/2 stars.

Let's put aside our qualms about the casting-acting and the "science" behind the film and take a deeper look on why this film was made:

The major studio asteroid-disaster battle between Paramount and Disney-Touchstone, with their respective films, Deep Impact and Armageddon, waged on our screens in 1998. Armageddon was the clear box office winner, while Deep Impact earned the critical win. Both films born out of a "development hell" remake of George Pal's adaptation of Edwin Balmer and Philip Wylie's 1933 novel, When Worlds Collide*, for Paramount Pictures in 1953.

Fast forward to the 21st century. . . .

The inversions of Larry Niven and Jerry Pournelle's award-winning novel, Lucifer's Hammer (1977), hit the Earth in greater frequency, with quality, major studio films such as Greenland (2020)*, and the lesser-but-valiant Asylum-SyFy direct-to-cable epics of Asteroid-a-Geddon (2020)*, Collision Earth (2020)*, Meteor Moon (2020)*, and the stellar, Asian-produced The Wandering Earth (2019)*. Each of these films owe a nod to MGM's $20 million proto-falling rock flick failure to 20th Century Fox's Star Wars (1977), known as Meteor (1979).

Then there's Roger Corman: a filmmaker who never met a hit film he couldn't effectively Xerox. His New Horizon's Pictures beat Paramount and Disney to our screens with the Canadian-made direct-to-premium cable space-disaster, The Cusp, aka Falling Fire*, starring Micheal Pare (1997).

So, it was inevitable the major US television networks would respond with their budget-conscious (but still quality-expensive) inversions of Arthur C. Clarke's novel, The Hammer of God (1993) -- a book which Steven Spielberg purchased and started the rocks rolling when it was developed as Deep Impact, which Disney copied/counter-programmed as Armageddon.

In June 2009, ABC-TV was the first, by way of distributing the Canadian-made, two-night mini-series, Impact, starring David James Elliot and Natasha Henstridge (both very good, here). Impact originally aired in February 2009 on the cable-premium Super Channel. In that disaster: a meteor storm hits the moon, sending hunks of the moon towards Earth. As with the major studio models: astronauts land on the moon with an "electromagnet machine" and other fun, junk science delights.

In July 2009, NBC-TV responded with their like-minded, three-hour, two-night epic, Meteor. There's no astronauts racing to stop the rock in that one: Meteor is script-smarter than that worn-out trope.

As with NBC-TV's Meteor*, you'll notice many have not been kind to ABC-TV's first-to-the-screen offering. As previously stated: instead of phalanxes of CGI missiles to stop the threat of the real-life 114 Kassandra striking Earth, we -- as in both Armageddon and Deep Impact -- "go to the mountain" as it were, in Impact. Is the junk science just as implausible as in those two major studio romps drilling holes and inserting nukes: you bet!

Sure, to be a screenwriter in the sci-fi genre: you do not need an astrophysics degree. And to enjoy science fiction: you do not need an astrophysics degree. You have watched Star Wars, right? But wouldn't it make sense to consult an astrophysicist when writing the script as the proceedings become more Earth-bound and more sci-fact than fiction, we ask?

Sure, there are scientists with untested theories across all the sciences: Remember "The Jupiter Effect" predicted in 1974 that was to occur in March 1982; the science seemed solid -- and believed at the time. In fact: the aforementioned The Wandering Earth from 2020 -- with its "Earth Engines" science to save the Earth -- while discredited by some, is a serious, calculated theory. But, well, er, ah: Asteroids are what cross space; meteors are when an asteroid burns up in the atmosphere. And "electromagnetics" and "gravity" are even less interchangeable terms as are "asteroids" vs. "meteors" zipping though the void.

Yes. Meteor (uh, asteroid) showers can and do hit the moon (that's where the craters came from), but not enough that "breaks off hunks" of the moon. And an asteroid BIG ENOUGH to do just that can't hide behind a stone shower: we would -- with today's science -- see it. Then there's chunks of a "brown dwarf" snafu, and "electromagnetic fields" boondoggling, and for anything that LARGE to hit the moon head-on: the moon wouldn't split, crack, or have a chunk break off, or have its orbit altered: it would vaporize into stardust. Now an Earth without Moon? That's a problem. Let's make a movie about that. . . .

Nope. Instead let's try -- and fail -- to DESTROY the Moon with, oops, there's that phalanx of missiles, after all. Then, we send up astronauts -- not with a big drill -- but with an electromagnetic deus ex machina device (set up earlier in the film; something the always likeable David James Elliot's character was working on at NASA) that can create weightless environments and reverse magnetic polarity. And we have to, because, well, the Moon's now elongated, elliptically orbit can levitate -- and derail -- trains! (All these effects, by the way, for TV movie production values, look really good.)

The acting? I feel those qualms are overstated. The very familiar cast (of adults; the kids are dandy, here) have had very successful careers as they've moved from television-to-film-and-back-to-television. The characters: they're not as one-dimensional, Ben Affleck and Liv Tyler-dopey as they were in Armageddon. Yeah, writer Micheal Vickerman put some meat on the bone and gave everyone a little bit of depth (especially James Cromwell's curmudgeonly grandfather-cum-father-in-law to Elliot's scientist). The "lack of diversity" argument in the casting: "31 flavoring" every single film, checking boxing with "one of everything": that's not realistic casting, either. My qualm? Why must the United States always be the "savior" of the world? Sure, Canada and the ESA are on board (with an English-speaking German astrophysicist; other nations are implied), but . . . I know, I know, this is only a $14,000,000 film shot in Canada, after all. But for once: can another county pull our asses out of the fire -- and the Americans help them?

Yeah, I know: this all sounds like the kings in the lack of realism, science terminology and laws of physics and gravity -- The Asylum -- made this for the SyFy Channel. But let's face the facts: The in-the-know sci-if geeks, justifiably, because of their education, hate this movie out of the gate. The rest of us ignorant folk don't be knowin' the first thing about electromagnetics and dwarfs-this-and-that, so we just sit back and enjoy the ride: a ride that's been traveling through the void since Edwin Balmer and Philip Wylie put their speculative pens to paper in 1933 for the novel, When Worlds Collide.

The bottom line: Writer Micheal Vickerman's pen reminds of Gary J. Tunnicliffe's writing in one of my personal favorite, Alien-movie rips, Within the Rock (1996)* -- with its totally awesome junk science tomfoolery of creating atmosphere and gravity on rogue moons. Tunnicliffe turned in smart scripting -- as all of the chemical compounds, explosives, and mining tech-speak spewed by his cast seemed well-researched and convinced me. Yeah, forget the "junk science" arguments: Vickerman wrote with commitment and everything seems convincing and his actors sell the drama with confidence.

You can stream this miniseries-cum-epic three-hour movie now available on the Tubi or Pluto platforms in 2023. Sure, it's not a 10-star flick, but it's not a 1-star disaster, either, as most have rated it. For me: This drifts to a 7-star rating, and I enjoyed Impact a hell of a lot more than Moonfall -- and its production-similar sister flick Geostorm, for that matter -- both of which are just dumber than dumb 1-starrers. The big studios should know better!

* You can find my reviews for Asteroid-a-Geddon, Collision Earth, Greenland, Meteor Moon, The Wandering Earth, When Worlds Collide, and Within the Rock on the IMDb under "critic reviews" for B&S About Movies. Look for my insights on Falling Fire and Meteor under the IMDb's "user reviews."

While a cool, prolific budget-conscious studio shingle adept at filling video shelf space and cable television programming slots, Phillip J. Roth's Bulgarian-based UFO (Unified Film Organization) is no French-based StudioCanal; it's apples to oranges. So, yeah, John Carpenter had every right to sue -- and win -- a claim against the studio's Lockout (2012) by Luc Beeson, as it blatantly clipped Escape from New York. But seriously, what's Warner Brothers/Columbia Studios to gain by suing UFO for this familiar we've-seen-it-all-before sci-fi romp?

Chances are you've seen, but may not know it, the work of Phillip J. Roth, the writer behind this film originally known as Dark Descent during its Euro-overseas theatrical run. Born in the US, Roth's direct-to-video/cable career stretches back to the early '80s with the US-aired sci-fi-actioners Prototype X29A and APEX (both takes on The Terminator), Digital Man (Universal Solider), Total Reality (Total Recall), Velocity Trap (Demolition Man), and Interceptor Force (French-bred action star Oliver Gruner). Sure, while you can say most entries on Roth's resume are influenced by or homages popular films, there's no denying 2016's Arrival starring Amy Adams so-ripped Roth's own 2001 cable-aired Epoch (right down the floating stone monolith space-spires). Most recently, you've seen quite a few of Roth's sequel-productions in the Boogeymen, Death Race, Doom, Jarhead, Lake Placid, The Messengers, Sniper, Taken, Wrong Turn, and SyFy's monster-shark franchises. One of his most recent offerings was Inferno: Skyscraper Escape with British actress Claire Forani, kickin' high rise ass, The Rock-style (appeared on US streaming shores in 2020; theatrically-premiered in Europe in 2017).

So, let's unpack this space-cum-underwater romp from Phillip J. Roth's 112-films as-a-producer resume; he wrote 27 and directed 21. Here, Roth pens and produces.

So, once upon a time: There was a western movie called High Noon (1952) starring Gary Cooper as a small town Marshall. And there was a black and white sci-fi horror film, It! The Terror from Beyond Space (1958). Then, as time passed: In the wake of Star Wars the latter film was unofficially remade as Alien (1979), while High Noon received an unofficial outer space makeover as Outland (1981) starring Sean Connery in the Gary Cooper role. And Outland wouldn't have existed if not for Alien becoming a box office hit. Got that?

Then, James Cameron sunk the genre with The Abyss (1989) and thou let loose an aquatic crop of ripoffs released in the early 1990s: There was Aliens from the Deep (from Italy), Deep Star Six (good ol' Carolco), The Evil Below, The Lucifer Rig, Leviathan, Lords of the Deep (good 'ol Roger Corman), and The Rift, aka Endless Decent -- which is not to be confused with the film at task: Dark Decent. (And there's a new crop of post-1990s-to-2010s waterloggers to discover on Tubi*.)

Ah, but all of those The Abyss rips had aliens or aquatic-based monsters: Yes, while Phillip J. Roth's UFO Studios put this 2002 (that rolled out in other markets until 2009) underwater sci-fi'er into production to ride James Cameron's 1989 wave, the model of Dark Descent (aka Descent Into Darkness on US video), as many other reviewers have name checked: Peter Hyams's earlier '81 romp, Outland.

As with the later, obviously superior-produced sci-horror Underwater (2020): We're in the Mariana Sea Basin, the deepest place on Earth (instead of Io around Jupiter), on a research-mining platform: a platform so massive that a very cool bullet train (all CGI'd, natch) is required to transverse the "industrial Atlantis." Keeping the peace is Officer Will Murdock of the Deep Submersible Division. (Yeah, I am digging those padded, all-black-leather cop duds that reminds of -- well, what do you know -- the wares in John Carpenters's Ghost of Mars from 2001 (a rip of his Assault on Precinct 13). You know what: Forget The Abyss from 1989 triggering Dark Descent into production. Carpenter's Mars cops-on-a-mission is the mold, here; which itself is a sci-if inversion of 1959's Rio Bravo, so there you go.)

Anyway, after taking down a brotherly criminal duo (killing one) working the aquatic mines, Murdock stumbles into a drug-running operation responsible for not only a rash of increasing violent crimes, but suicides (the catalyst is an dry-dock chamber accident by way of a miner's drug-triggered hallucination that kills several workers; a nice water-pressure spout through the chest gag, ensues). Ah, but those brothers work for the corporation that supplies the drugs than keeps the miners happy and productive. And Marshall Murdock has become a financial liability.

Two years later: Murdock's tour is over and he's readying to return to dry land. Ah, thanks to a convenient legal issue: Vlad is out and he's on the "noon-arriving" sub-shuttle to get his revenge. Murdock is left all alone to face Vlad: the corporation and the miners turn their back on him.

If you skimmed the other's reviews, you'll notice many chastise Dark Descent's set design and special effects. In reality: neither is that bad, as the CGI is more convincing than most budget conscious sci-fi'ers and the costuming is especially impressive; as is the cinematography and editing. Those reviewers' folly: Sure, while the proceedings are a note-for-note take on Outland (right down to a sympathetic doctor helping in the cause), one can't belly this Bulgarian production for the Euro theatrical market against the dual production powers of Warner Brothers and Columbia Studios: UFO will always lose that battle. So the key to enjoying this underwater-Alien hybrid is to view it through Roger Corman-tinted glasses: an affectionate throwback to the sets, effects, and costumes of New World Pictures' Alien knockoff of Galaxy of Terror (1981), William Malone's pretty darn fine Creature (1985), and the more plot-similar to Roth's vision: Moon 44 (1990) from Roland "Stargate/Independence Day" Emmerich -- with Michael Pare's space cop going against his own brand of corporate mining intrigue sans the xenomorphs.

Yeah, I really dig Michael Pare, even as his star has fallen (check out my favorable "user-review" of his Deep Impact-rip, Falling Fire from 1997) and he's gone into Eric Roberts, Bruce Willis, and Nicolas Cage direct-to-video territories. Regardless of the film each always bring their A-game to the set. And so does Dean Cain in his reinvention as a go-to direct-to-video actor. If you've never seen his Euro-made Rollerball rip known as Futuresport from 1998, check it out; outside of the presence of Vanessa Williams (ugh), it's inventive.

Well, so goes this review!

A discussion on the Star Wars-Alien-The Abyss mash-ups of the '80s continues at B&S About Movies with our features "Ten Films that Rip Off Alien," "Exploring: After Star Wars," and "Movies in Outer Space Week." Look for my full, official review of Underwater (2020) under the IMDb's "critic reviews," and a mini-review under "user reviews."

*You're on your own with these later, trapped-with-an-alien-in-a-confined-space flicks; but I recommend the Australian-made The Dark Lurking: it's better than the rest: Alien Rising (2013), Creature (2004), Dark Island (2010), Deep Evil (2004), The Dark Lurking (2009), Hydra (2009), Legion (1998), That Thing Below (2004), and Parasite (2004).

So, do you remember the cheap jack Canadian Star Wars rip-off from 1979, The Shape of Things to Come -- that had nothing to do with H. G. Wells, but starred Jack Palance and his army of errant "Robby the Robot" overgrown pop corn poppers?

Well, things have shaped up for the worse.

Well, maybe not. While failing on the film disciplines aspect, the story here is pretty intelligent -- on the narrative level of this film's production-level doppelganger, THX 1138 (1971) from George Lucas.

However, due to its adult-driven shenanigans, Things to Come (1976) -- a drive-in regional, San Antonio, Texas-shot rip of Star Trek meets Logan's Run -- is a difficult recommend due to its occasional adult content via inserts. Yes, inserts, because: this is a society addicted to sex via television as a form of governmental control. So, there's a little foreshadow of David Cronenberg's Videodrome (1983) in the frames. (Look for the lazy husband who is on his "mandatory" months-long leave from his job; he argues with his wife's ambition and her wanting to go outside for walks. "Why?" he yells: everything I need (sex) is on television (via movies and TV series).)

You see, in Rollerball: the masses were placated by a government providing all of their needs; all "wants" of food, jobs, and entertainment eliminated. Even the wants of violence.

In this San Antonio-based world: the masses are of the Logan's Run variety: all young and pretty. They're also provided violence via the televised matches held in "The Pleasuredome," a "death sport" arena. Ah, but what Rollerball didn't show us, Things to Come, does: sex is also broadcast over television (or some type of cable television that we did not yet know).

Let's not forget: this film was made in 1975, so its production was more than likely sparked by the announcement of the then-hot George Lucas gearing up Star Wars. So, as we look at our digital lives in 2023 -- with the easy of accessing adult materials and the resulting addictions that have arisen from one's Internet travels -- Things to Come got it right. The concept: not the technology. You know, like when the fate of the world was held on a Kraco analog cassette tape in Escape from New York (1981). Well, maybe the tech in this San Antonio world is a throwback to the old Showtime premium channel "After Dark" days -- only you don't need a subscription.

Anyway, what we really came for: the Rollerball meets Roger Corman's Death Race 2000 (1975) "deathcycles" -- complete with wedge-cutting blades -- that appear in a subplot about a deathsport game held in "The Pleasuredome" to entertain the masses -- as the bikers hunt Westworld-styled (1973), female-android/pleasure bots with out-of-date technology being put to pasture (that brings on an M. Night Shyamalan-styled twist that pulls all the narrative threads together).

Yes, the "murder bikes" are as cardboardish as they seem. Yes, the game is a little like Lucio Fulci's "Kill Bike" in his later Warriors of the Year 2072 (1984). Did Corman rip off these bikes for his later apoc'er, Deathsport (1979)? Probably.

Is Deathsport -- which is pretty awful in its own awfulness -- better than this? Yes. Do we still enjoy this -- even in the version where the adult content is cut and just implied (making the film an easier, quicker watch). Yes.