My 100 Worst Favorite Movies, Part 5

Female Convict 701: Scorpion – Probably the best women-in-prison movie I’ve seen, this Japanese revenge thriller doesn’t actually need all the nudity to keep viewers interested (but don’t worry, it’s there, in spades).  Every genre convention you might expect is present (shower room brawl, prison riot, senseless interrogation, etc.), but it’s the craft (stylish camerawork, above-average acting and well-paced script) that holds it together. I’m not into bondage, torture or mass nudity (it’s too impersonal), but I can get behind a ferocious performance of an avenging angel kicking ass when it’s handled with such traditionally unnecessary, given the genre, passion and skill.

Fidelity – Fidelity is Polish madman Andrzej Zulawski’s adaptation of the 1678 French novel The Princess of Cleves. I’ve read it and I can say they have this in common: homo sapien main characters with the same names and relationships. This is an epic romance that is often unbearably highbrow and B-movie trashy in the space of a single scene.  I think of it as the final and most sophisticated homage to Zulawski’s long-term girlfriend, the beautiful Sophie Marceau, and through all the muddled chaos of yellow journalism, organ trafficking, wild sex and bad poetry one senses that he’s trying to deliver some aching inarticulate message not just to her, at the twilight of their 17 year relationship, but to the audience as well. A popular and critical fiasco, it’s hard to convince people to track down and sit through the even rarer uncut 3+ hour version that makes slightly more narrative and thematic sense. Even I must admit it falls well short of Zulawski’s magnum opus, Possession, (which only failed to make this list because I refuse to admit that it might not be perfect), but I found this to be another of his feverishly passionate cries sent echoing into the universe’s void. Who doesn't like those?

Flash Gordon – Flash Gordon, “King of the Impossible,” must rescue fetching journalist Dale Arden and save the Earth from Emperor Ming the Merciless (Max von Sydow), who is raining down hot hail and sending the moon onto a collision course. His plan will unite perennial foes Hawkman (Brian Blessed) and space Robin Hood (Timothy Dalton), but not before they shout some pretty atrocious dialog at each other. The costume design and soundtrack by Queen would, alone, make this a favorite, but the film’s contagious sense of campy abandon puts it over the top, amply earning its eminent cult-circuit reputation.

Footprints on the Moon – Like Death Laid an Egg this is another one of those obscure giallo films that just doesn’t fit the mold. It has a sci-fi subplot, almost no murders and a cameo by the great German actor Klaus Kinski, plus a plot so abstruse and subtle that I had no idea what was going on during my first viewing. Alice, a woman haunted by eerie dreams from her childhood, visits a seaside resort she learns about from a postcard and begins investigating a woman who may be herself. The chilling ending is all the more effective for its otherworldliness. Cinematographer Vittorio Storaro (The Conformist, Apocalypse Now) provides the excellent visuals.

Four-Sided Triangle – I don’t consider myself a fan of Britain’s Hammer studio, which churned out largely formulaic and forgettable horror and sci-fi movies from the 50’s to the 70’s, but this underrated gem is one of my favorite B-movies. There is no monster, no alien, no violence and hardly any special effects. There is only a love triangle (two scientists, friends since boyhood, who fall in love with their beautiful assistant) and the troubling ethical implications of an invention, a duplicator, which may provide a way for the triangle to, shall we say, expand into square. Of course, technology only makes things worse. Tragically doomed actress Barbara Payton (who is not ashamed) provides the female lead and, for me, it’s not hard to imagine how she could break a heart. Efficient, resourceful and perhaps deeper than it realizes, this is exactly the type of film I think low-budget filmmakers should strive for. It’s few viewers, however, seem to brush it aside.

Freeway – A modernized adaptation of Little Red Riding Hood with Reese Witherspoon as a highly independent trailer tramp on her way to grandmother’s house and Kiefer Sutherlands as the highway-prowling serial killer wolf. The usual damsel-in-distress scenario is reversed after Witherspoon pumps a few bullets into her would-be predator, but the legal consequences land her in prison. Undaunted, she fashions a homemade shiv and busts out with a pair of new friends for a final bloody confrontation at grandmother’s. Hilariously no-holds-barred and flagrantly over the top, it’s a pleasure just to see Witherspoon’s spit and vinegar performance (she got so safe and bland later!) and Sutherland at his most unctuous. Even the critics admitted liking this, but it’s the type of film we’re not supposed to.

Full Contact – Full Contact is Hong Kong action courtesy of Ringo Lam, creator of such classy cinema as City on Fire, Prison on Fire and Maximum Risk. I don’t remember the plot, but it involves Chow Yun-fat punching, kicking, shooting, chasing, fleeing, driving and crashing. Often in slow-mo. The movie gave us ‘bullet time’ seven years before The Matrix, and did it from the bullet’s own POV. It also gave us one of the great final lines, tossed off at the flamboyantly gay villain as he dies: “Masturbate in hell.”

Glen or Glenda – Director Ed Wood’s most infamous film, the staggeringly incompetent “Plan Nine from Outer Space,” gets more attention, but Glen or Glenda is arguably even worse, which, of course, makes it even better. Bela Lugosi, via senselessly over-the-top narration, presents us with the story of Glen/Glenda’s cross-dressing and sex change. For a film that achieves so many inadvertent laughs, it’s also strangely touching, especially in light of Wood’s personal investment: a cross-dresser himself, he stars in the title role playing against his real-life girlfriend, who wasn’t yet fully aware of Wood’s proclivities.

God Told Me To – In New York City random people are violently running amok, with the only common thread being their dying insistence that “God told me to.” A Catholic detective investigates, increasingly terrified by the possible truth. A surprisingly aspirational B-movie slushy of police procedural, urban horror, religious allegory and science fiction. In my opinion this is schlock staple Larry Cohen’s one brush with greatness.

Grendel, Grendel, Grendel – An Australian animated children’s musical adaptation of the 11^th century English epic poem Beowulf, but told from the sympathetic point-of-view of the villain in the style of John Gardner’s experimental parallel novel. Peter Ustinov steals the show as the oddly genteel Beowulf, but sadly he doesn’t show up until the final act. The Schoolhouse Rock reminiscent limited animation, lukewarm tunes, uneven pacing and a lot of confusion as to whether a target audience for this concept even exists make the film, pretty much unavailable anyway, fabulously unpopular.

My 100 Worst Favorite Movies, Part 4

Death Laid an Egg – This giallo by the virtually unknown Giulio Questi  is one of my favorite films in the genre. A twisted love triangle on a mechanized chicken farm, this is what a murder mystery melodrama might look like directed by Jean Luc-Godard. Jean-Louis Trintingnant stars. Beautiful women and cinematrography meet ugly revelations about murder and infidelity and even uglier boneless, limbless chick blobs. The story, acting, set design and themes are exactly what I look for in a rare horror gem, but the skeptics are unlikely to bother tracking this down in the back-alleys of the internet.

Death Race 2000 – Cyborg celebrity frontrunner Frankenstein (David Carradine) goes head-to-head against Machine-Gun Joe Viterbo (Sylvester Stallone), cowgirl Calamity Jane, neo-Nazi Mathilda the Hun and gladiator Nero the Hero in The Death Race, a dash across America where points are issued for running down civilians along the way (bonuses for women, children and old folk). Annie Paine, Frankenstein’s sexy new copilot/mechanic is secretly a spy for an underground resistance group, but finds herself falling in love with the enigmatic driver. One of the most perfect 1970’s exploitation films, Death Race 2000 has an inimitable blend of style, violence, camp and fan service. The casting, vehicle design and script are just right.

Death Walks at Midnight – It’s hard to make up my mind between this and its sister film Death Walks on High Heels so plan on a double feature. Susan Scott (who, next to Edwige Fenech, is probably the best actress in the giallo genre) plays a feisty scene-stealing model who ill-advisedly takes a hallucinogenic drug and ends up in some embarrassing photos. The odd thing is that the visions from her bad trip match up with a murder that took place next door six months in the past. Some great suspense sequences and no-one-believes-me tension build towards a fine denouement. Villains include a killer with a spiked gauntlet and a giggling knife-throwing hitman.

Deep Blue Sea – Unfairly bashed before the gates even opened just for not being Jaws, this is still one of the best shark thrillers that money can rent. Saffron Burrows plays the requisite conspicuously-hot scientist who genetically alters sharks to increase their brain mass (which no matter how you explain it, still sounds stupid) and then must team up with the combined badassery of Samuel L Jackson, Stellan Skarsgard and LL Cool J to escape the resulting monsters and her slowly sinking ocean research lab. The script isn’t Shakespeare, but it keeps things fast, tense and peppered with convention-defying surprises.

Demolition Man – A supercop (Stallone) and his nemesis (Snipes) are cryogenically unfrozen in a ‘utopian’ future where all crime, vices and awesomeness have been eradicated. They immediately head to a museum to load up on guns and bombs. Things blow up. Sandra Bullocks is there. Stallone teaches her how cussing and unhealthy stuff is great. Shameless, gauche and tons of fun.

The Devil-Doll – Tod Browning became a household name on the strength of Dracula and Freaks, two films that defined the horror genre in the early 1930’s. However, I prefer his less-beloved silent circus melodrama The Unknown, about an armless knife-thrower, and The Devil-Doll, about an escaped convict who uses a shrinking serum to wreck vengeance on the Parisian bankers who framed him. Lionel Barrymore is incredible as the criminal mastermind, performing most of the film in drag. Despite the sensational story, his relationship with his estranged daughter (Maureen O’Sullivan) provides a touching emotional core that few horror films ever achieve. The special effects were decades ahead of their time and still impress me today.

Doppelganger (2003) – One of Kiyoshi Kurosawa’s lesser known films, Doppelganger is about a scientist working on an artificial body. Exhausted from stress, administrative skepticism and creative stagnation, our lead is on the verge of suicide when he is visited by a mysterious doppelganger who isn’t burdened by the same moral scruples. Of course, this type of devil’s pact never ends well, but Kurosawa’s last act genre shift into slapstick comedy wasn’t the ending twist the critics wanted. Koji Yakusho is, as usual, excellent in the lead role. Part of my love for this film comes from its moody, formalist use of triple split-screen (I’m a big fan of unconventional editing). Kurosawa’s little-loved existential eco-thriller Charisma could just have easily made the list, but I’ve written about it before.

Dr. Jekyll and His Women – Director Walerian Borowczyk was a Polish surrealist animator turned art-house novelty pornographer. His rarely seen (and even more rarely liked) adult-film adaptation of Jekyll and Hyde stars Udo Kier as a doctor stifled by the trappings of civilization and hesitant about his impending marriage to a loving society ingénue. His transformation into a sex crazed monster who kills with his… member, gives vent to his primal needs. Arguably a failure as art or porn, it still succeeds as a bracing, unique and profoundly disturbing horror film.

The Emperor's Naked Army Marches On – A brilliant and still criminally unsung Japanese documentary about Kenzo Okuzaki’s investigation into mysterious deaths in the wake of the WWII New Guinea campaign. Though the truth is revealed to be devastatingly macabre, the sensational subject matter is gradually eclipsed by Okuzaki himself, a man clearly driven mad by righteous hatred. Utterly devoid of objectivity, restraint or fear, he is willing to beat the truth out of his interviewees (including his former military superiors) ultimately going so far that he loses the support of the victim’s families and, perhaps, the sympathy of the audience.  Okuzaki eventually finds the man he hold responsible and, off-screen, guns down his son. The final title card tells us that Okuzaki has been sentenced to 12 years in prison.

Enemy at the Gates – At a certain age in every American boy’s life he plays a videogame that lets him snipe and he believes he’s found his calling in life. I was about that age when Enemy at the Gates came out and it reinforced my conviction that snipers were cooler than astronauts. Jude Law and Ed Harris stalk each other through rifle scopes. Rachel Weisz is pretty. Bob Hoskins is Russian (whaaat?). And of course Ron Perlman shows up, as he does for every movie like this. 

My 100 Worst Favorite Movies, Part 3

Clifford – Critically mauled Martin Short vehicle in which he plays both an elderly priest and a 10-year-old boy (in a movie-length flashback which never loses its half-intended quasi-surrealism considering Short was well into his forties at the time) chronically obsessed with visiting the Dinosaur World theme park. Clifford’s uncle gets saddled with the problem child, who engages in woefully unfunny pranks like planting bombs. Similar to ‘What About Bob?’ in that it’s obnoxious and yet, at times, mesmerizing. God, it’s terrible. I’m not sure I can or even should defend it.

Con Air – Nicolas Cage, John Cusack, Malkovich and Buscemi star in this overblown action film about a hijacked prison plane. I’m not a fan of producer Jerry Bruckheimer in general, but Con Air’s non-stop nonsense is so resourceful, lightning-paced and special-effect-laden that one forgets its total nonsense. Or one doesn’t care. The film tends to lose several stars if not seen while eating buttery popcorn.

The Crawling Eye – Also called The Trollenberg Terror, this is a vintage 1950’s black-and-white sci-fi B-movie about an alien invasion. The aliens, mind-controlling giant eyeballs with tentacles that hide in radioactive mountain-top clouds, are amongst my favorite monster designs of the period (up there with Fiend Without a Face). The film is somewhat schematic and plodding during the lulls, but the best parts are thrilling and the worst parts are funny.

Cruel Intentions – Filmmakers just love adapting Dangerous Liaisons, but since its 1782 inception it has too often been treated as high art period piece Literature and not as the salacious prurient-pleaser that it was in its day. Roger Vadim’s version comes close, but this 1999 modernization starring a cast of hot young stars (Sarah Michelle Gellar, Ryan Phillippe, Reese Witherspoon, Selma Blair, Sean Patrick Thomas and Tara Reid) takes the cake for sheer shamelessness. Watching this film at 15 I was openly salivating over the meat puppets (Gellar as a brunette *swoon*) and completely into the killer soundtrack while being perfectly comfortable ignoring the clunky script, weak development and forgettable mise-en-scene (not that I knew what that was). I don’t have my age as an excuse anymore, but it’s still the Dangerous Liaisons version that I’m most likely to rewatch and, even if a bit ironically nowadays, to enjoy.

Cube – A bunch of people with nothing in common wake up in a large cube made up of many smaller cubical rooms, some of which are booby-trapped to kill them in all sorts of nasty ways. They try to figure out why they are there and how to get out. A great example of keeping viewers intrigued with only a single set, little acting talent and less money. The incoherent sequel Hypercube ran with the tagline “The first one had rules,” in an interesting case of producers trying to market a film by highlighting its greatest flaw.

Danger: Diabolik! – Diabolik is a sexy daredevil master-thief living in the height of 1960’s Italian kitsch. With his beautiful wife, he stages outrageous capers and makes fools of the government and criminal underworld alike. Even destroying the country’s tax infrastructure and stealing a multi-ton boxcar of gold hardly breaks his stride. Mario Bava’s film is light as a feather, but the heists are actually quite cleverly conceived and executed (I’m a sucker for a good heist). The humor, fashion and momentum win childish grins and clapping from me. On a more technical level, I like the way Bava uses bright colors and strong horizontals and verticals to break up the image in a way that harkens back to its comic book origins.

Dark Star – Astronaut hippies, unwanted by the space program, are given smart bombs and sent on an interminable semi-pointless mission to implode stars that might be inconvenient for future colonizers. One of the smart bombs develops sentience and begins to question the nature of its existence, forcing the hippies into a philosophical argument for their lives. Carpenter’s first film is a zero-budget student project that frequently transcends its visibly humble roots. Dan O’Bannon, later of Alien and Total Recall fame, wrote the script and helped with the endearingly low-fi special effects.

Day of the Dolphin – Do-gooder husband and wife scientists try to teach dolphins how to talk until terrorists force them (the dolphins) to bomb the president’s yacht instead. It sounds ridiculous, but everyone plays it straight and I was hooked. George C. Scott and his real-life wife starred.  Prix Goncourt winner Robert Merle wrote it. Mike Nichols directed. I was apparently the only one who watched.

Deadly Circuit – Isabelle Adjani stars as a black widow killer hunted by The Eye (Michel Serrrault), a detective who has lost his daughter. In an odd twist, The Eye develops romantic/fatherly feelings for the murderer, whom he has never actually met, and begins to cover her tracks rather than pursue her arrest. When she falls in love with one of her prospective victim, relinquishing her life of crime, The Eye can’t take it and must act to restore their doomed trajectory. It is, perhaps, a throwaway thriller, but the unusual touches in the script by a young Jacque Audiard (later a fantastic director in his own right) and the cast (I can watch Adjani in anything and often times do) make this work for me.

Dear Wendy – Much-loathed critique of American gun fetishism by uneven Danish director Thomas Vinterberg. A group of misfit teens becomes a tightknit club of friends through a shared fixation on antique firearms and foppish wardrobes, but their idealistic code of honor is no match for simply human failings. Predictably, blood will flow. Over-stylized, misdirected, insincere, self-indulgent and hypocritical (given its own capitalization on violence), this is still a film that I feel has a timely story to tell, points worth mulling, a cast with chemistry and a presentation that catches the eye.

My 100 Worst Favorite Movies, Part 2

The Boxer's Omen – The first time I saw this Hong Kong oddity I couldn’t initially tell whether it was a boxing movie, revenge drama, gangster film, softcore crossover, spiritual odyssey, martial arts thriller, horror movie, stop-motion cartoon or black comedy. It’s a bit of each, and all of that in just the first 30 minutes, eventually ‘settling into the conventions’ of the obscure HK micro-genre of Buddhist monk vs. Voodoo witchdoctor combat. I have to wonder if director Kuei Chih-Hung knew he was at the end of his career (his next film, appropriately named Misfire, would be his last of nearly 40) and tried to cram in every idea he had left. It pays off, though only according to its few acolytes. The hyperactive unpredictable imagination of its fast-paced, anything-goes plot left me breathless and happy. Its willingness to ignore good taste and common sense occasionally goes too far, especially in some expendable gross-out scenes, but I’m glad it never holds back. This is an all-time favorite.

A Boy and His Dog – Post apocalyptic SF written by Harlan Ellison and starring Miami Vice’s Don Johnson as a wasteland youth hunting women to rape with the help of his telepathic dog. The second half gets weirder. The politically incorrect, frequently mistimed humor is not for everyone, but most agree the anti-romantic ending is priceless.

Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia – El Jefe, a rich Mexican landowner, tortures his pregnant daughter to discover her lover’s name (Alfredo Garcia) and sets a million dollar bounty on his head. Bennie, a washed-up drunk, learns that Garcia is already dead, digs up the head, and plans to make a killing, except that everything goes to hell. Bloodsoaked, grotesque and riddled with amoral desolation, Sam Peckinpah’s film was critically savaged on its release, but hailed as a masterpiece decades later. I found it revolting on first watch, but Netflixed it a second time only a couple of weeks later after I couldn’t get it out of my head. I also considered including Peckinpah’s The Getaway, which is sort of the reverse case: a huge box office success in its day now considered beneath notice. I think it’s an action classic with some brilliant technical work (especially in the editing of the opening act), but it was made for all the wrong reasons: Peckinpah needed the money and McQueen and McGraw couldn’t keep their hands off each other.

Brother from Another Planet – An “alien” (who happens to look exactly like a black man) crash lands on Earth and has to survive in New York City without knowing anyone or speaking the language and while being hunted by space slavers (who happen to look exactly like white yuppies). The metaphor’s total lack of subtlety is part of the charm. Director John Sayles has made better films, but few with such a knowing sense of humor.

A Bucket of Blood – Roger Corman’s unexpectedly sensitive satire of beatniks finds a dimwitted waiter inadvertently transformed into the toast of the 1950’s avant-garde after he kills a cat (and later much more) and coats the corpse in clay. I’m a Corman apologist and considered several of his films for this list, ultimately running with A Bucket of Blood (that sounds odd out of context) though these days it might be considered an obvious choice. Prefer something of his more eccentric? I'm curious; throw it in a comment.

Cannibal: The Musical – An early film by the South Park guys, this is a musical based on the real life frontier cannibalism of prospecting party lost during a trip from Utah to Colorado. It’s low-budget, irreverent and surreal, but it’s surprising how often the film actually succeeds. The songwriting, especially, is rather memorable. (I'm playing back the musical numbers in my head and laughing. Some it you just has to be witnessed!)

Care Bears Adventures in Wonderland – Even the few professional critics who bother to review Care Bears movies, considered this, the third in the series, to be a confusing and unwelcome effort from the Canadian animation team. I watched this whenever I was sick as a kid and I still love their take on Alice in Wonderland, especially the cheery-dreary villain who wants to bring sanity to wonderland (how evil!) and desaturate all the colors (or something).  A few bastardizations go too far, including a rapping Cheshire cat. Also new is a pair of red robots, piloted by Tweedledee and Tweedledum, which gave me nightmares.

Carnival of Souls – Carnival is sort of an art-house zombie movie, produced for peanuts and taking decades to build up word of mouth. Deliberate, brooding and mild-mannered, it gets under your skin, thanks largely to the inexperienced director’s earnest artistic ambition and the investment of his cast and crew. Part of the kick I get out of watching the film is having lived near both the primary shooting locations: Lawrence, KS and Salt Lake City, UT.

Cassandra Cat – Czech children’s parable about innocence, love and kittens. A small village is visited by a beautiful immortal magician who puts on a puppet show. The local young-at-heart teacher falls in love. The plot hinges around the lady’s magical cat who reveals the citizen’s true colors (literally) when it removes its stylish sunglasses. Essentially it’s about how authority, hypocrisy, taxidermy and most adults suck. Yeah, it’s a product of its time, but one I utterly sympathize with.

The Central Region – Michael Snow placed a camera that could rotate on every axis in the rocky shrub-strewn Canadian wilderness far from the nearest human habitation. For three days it executed pre-programmed patterns of movements in the absence of a director, cameraman or cast. Snow edits the resulting footage into a 3 hours film with no story. This is Structuralism, hardcore. More specifically it’s an experimental work that abandons conventional notions of narrative and performance in favor of analyzing form and technique, challenging us to see our world through alien eyes. Tedious? Yes. But after overcoming my fidgets I gradually synchronized with the film’s rhythm of motions and became strangely hypnotized. Enough to watch it several times!

My 100 Worst Favorite Movies, Part 1

Hey, I'm back with a big new 10 part series of capsule reviews! Expect it to be self-indulgent. Behold:

I have a tendency to defend movies. And not just the great ones. I like movies, I watch a lot of them, and I tend to give them the benefit of the doubt. I’ve got my moments of snobbery (this IS the internet after all), but I rarely fail to find something of value in the movies I see. It helps that I leverage friends, lists, trusted critics, the internet and a bit of common sense to vet what I take in.  Still, I’ve seen plenty of films whose merits were contradicted by all of those resources, which I’d defend. I'd probably lose the case, but I'd defend them. This is a list about those movies.

I’m calling this my 100 "Worst Favorite" Films. "Favorite Worst" Films implies that I think all these films are actually bad and, worse still, openly admit it. It took me a while to formulate exactly what I was going for with this list, but it amounts to this: what films do I value well beyond the critics/the public/anyone objective. So that includes movies deemed wretched that I think worthwhile all the way up to movies labeled mediocre that I consider brilliant. It includes titles I think are genuinely underrated or neglected as well as films I love, but can’t realistically call masterpieces.

I’ve tried not weasel out of embarrassing myself by choosing only obscure titles. I’m hoping everyone will recognize at least a couple films that will totally undermine my authority as a film blogger. For those films you don’t recognize (perhaps for good reason) I’ve provided blurbs that explain the gap between my opinion and the general consensus. And who knows, maybe a few of you will agree with me?

I’ve also aimed for variety, so while the list is dominated by sci-fi and horror (which lend themselves to flawed genius) I’ve also included art films, exploitation, musicals, documentaries, romantic comedies, children’s cartoons and 'adult' films. Where else will you find Care Bears Adventures in Wonderland on a list with Dr. Jekyll and His Women?

I’ll be putting out the list in daily installments of 10 films each. For any regular readers out there I apologize for recycling many movies that I’ve written about before, especially during the Hall of Strangeness series. Like most people, I'm biased towards films I saw in my formative years, the 1990's in my case, so I should apologize for that too. But I'm not going to. After all, this list is all about bias.

So now, blurring the line between recommendations and confessions, I present my worst favorites films for your enjoyment (even if, statistically speaking, the odds aren’t in your favor).

8-Diagram Pole Fighter – A classic martial arts films that is undergoing a welcome resuscitation, 8-Diagram Pole Fighter is, as one might expect, all about the pole fighting choreography. This is best displayed during the opening credits, a scene which the rest of the movie can’t often live up to. The film is severely handicapped by the death of one of the leads, who just disappears near the final act of the movie and isn’t mentioned again. Typical of the genre, the acting and dubbing are often outrageously bad. Of note: more teeth get knocked out in the final battle, which takes place on a pyramid of coffins, than in any five other films I’ve seen.

American Astronaut – A science-fiction western musical by inspired indie rocker Cory McAbee. Poorly paced, steeped in twisted insider humor and dreamlike to the point of occasional frustration, this is still a masterpiece of atmosphere, space-as-the-new-West revisionism and raw individual vision. Critics disagree with the nice things I said. I don’t think it ever even had a theatrical release and I’ve only been able to buy copies from the band’s website.

The Annunciation – A work of nigh unrivaled ambition, condemnation and pretentiousness, The Annunciation is a Hungarian adaptation of The Tragedy of Man, framed as a vision presented to Adam and Eve by Lucifer, just after the fall, in which they watch the consequences of sin throughout the history of civilization spanning ancient Babylonia, the French Revolution, Victorian England and more. The film would have been dark and daring enough had it not used a cast composed entirely of children ages 10-12, whose unnerving depictions of mankind’s treachery, lust, rage and, in rare glimpses, redemption, scandalized contemporary Western censors and left the few critics who caught a screening scratching their heads. A handful, like me, was riveted.

Apartment Zero – Colin Firth stars as an Argentinian stalker infatuated with Hollywood Golden Age cinema and his new roommate, who might be a war criminal. Firth seems harmless at first, but his character arc has a satisfying curve to it. Apartment Zero is a queer thriller that wavers pleasantly (for me) between creepy and campy, yet the genuine affection for the troubled lead and the inclusion of grisly real-life political issues can’t quite be laughed away. I tend to enjoy films like this where one can’t quite pin down the dominate tone or the intended reaction.

The Apple (1980) - In the distant future (1994), two Canadian folksingers must battle to save their music, and their souls, from dystopian music industry tyrant BIM (Boogalow International Music) and his mind-controlling disco beats in this ambitious sci-fi musical adaptation of the Bible. The costume design, choreography and songwriting are frankly amateurish, but in the best sense: full of crazy ideas and laughable wrongness that a ‘better’ director would have cut or failed to conceive. I have so much fun watching this awkward, enthusiastic time-capsule that it must be doing something right.

Bad Blood (1986) – Imagine a future in which youth is being wiped out by a new STD that kills people who have sex without love. Now imagine a movie that has basically nothing to do with that. This is both of those movies. The young cast includes early-career Juliette Binoche, Denis Lavant and Julie Delpy. It’s so oozing with style that it congeals over and, thankfully, largely obscures the plot. The experimental lighting tends to obscure the action. But really its quite beautiful. And David Bowie’s music comes through pretty clear. I’m excited because Leos Carax, the director, is emerging from a 13 year hiatus with an upcoming parallel realities film called Holy Motors.

Barbarella – Pure silly space-romping future-camp full of 60’s psychedelic set design and goofy technobabble. Child dolls with gnashing metal teeth. A blind angel who lacks the will to fly. A giant sex organ (as in piano). Nothing makes any sense and doesn’t need to because everyone seems like they are having fun. Oh yeah, and Jane Fonda strips in zero G. If you like Barbarella make sure to check out Modesty Blaise, a close runner-up.

Billy Jack – Billy Jack is a half-breed ex-Green Beret who defends a hippy commune from small town America and their conservative authoritarianism using kick-heavy kung-fu. Director/writer/star Tom Laughlin can’t always decide rather he wants to make an exploitation film or a painfully sincere flower-power screed and ends up tipping towards the latter, allowing the film to make up for its laundry list of flaws on the strength of its naïve, but endearing, convictions. It actually makes me respect it a lot more that it sticks to its values even at the expense of being, you know, a bit more entertaining.

Blind Beast – A blind masseuse kidnaps a client who he obsesses over via touch. He imprisons her in his warehouse, an overwhelming menagerie of female body part sculptures (I can't do it justice without screenshots), where he plans to develop the sense of touch to an art form that will rival sight and sound. Masumura, one of cinema’s most underrated masters, both indulges and elevates the pulpy material with his expressionist sets, philosophical script and brave performances. His satire of corporate culture and the media, Giants and Toys, almost made the list.

Blindman – A blind gunslinger delivering 50 mail-order brides to a mining camp is betrayed and robbed of his human cargo. He sets out for revenge against a clan of foes with names like Domingo, Skunk and Candy (played by Beatles drummer Ringo Starr). Strange and misguided beyond measure, the film nevertheless knows how deliver memorable setpieces unlike anything the stagnant western genre has produced before. It all culminates in a gritty showdown between the two chief rivals, both now blind, scrapping desperately amid a field of nameless gravestones; a staggering metaphor for… something.

Some Films Came Out in 2011

Yeah, so some films came out in 2011. The consensus seems to be it was a slow year. I have to agree, but still, I enjoyed myself. I saw about 35 films from 2011 by my count, which is better attendance than my last three years. I've still got almost 20 more I'd like to get around to.

The Oscars aired over the weekend and they tended to bear out the 'slow year' assessment with above-average but generally straight-forward crowd-pleasers The Artist and Hugo leading with five awards apiece in races that were hardly nail-biting. I enjoyed both films quite a bit, but was sad to see the two films I thought were truly brilliant get beaten out, The Tree of Life for best picture, director and cinematography and A Separation for best screenplay (to the thoroughly mediocre Midnight in Paris). My friends and I were fairly disappointed with the results and yet, one must acknowledge that this is what the Oscars do: they validate safe, middlebrow films that are generally liked at least a little bit by everyone. It is hard to fault the Academy too much for fulfilling it's long-established role.

For it could be much worse. Dull and conventional as the Academy is, they still have better taste than the movie-going public. I know that's a terribly snobby thing to say, but today I happened to look over the box-office returns for 2011 and, for someone who cares about cinema, it's highlights, innovations, eccentricities, emotional power and imaginative possibilities, it can't help but be a little depressing to see the numbers.

Here's the top 20 grossers for the year:

1. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2

2. Transformers: Dark of the Moon

3. Twilight: Breaking Dawn Part 1

4. The Hangover 2

5. Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides

6. Fast Five

7. Mission Impossible - Ghost Protocol

8. Cars 2

9. Sherlock Holmes: Game of Shadows

10. Thor

11. Rise of the Planet of the Apes

12. Captain America

13. The Help

14. Bridesmaids

15. Kung Fu Panda 2

16. Puss in Boots

17. X-Men: First Class

18. Rio

19. The Smurfs

20. Alvin and the Chipmunks: Chipwrecked

Out of 20 films there are 12 sequels, 3 prequels and 3 comic book adaptations (which will probably spawn sequels of their own).

Of the remaining 3, one was an adaptation of a book (The Help), leaving only two original properties. One was Bridesmaids, produced by Judd Apatow (probably my all-time comedic nemesis) in his trademark style. The other was Rio, a warmly-received animated kids movie which performed well for Blue Sky Studios at the box-office, but barely half as well as their panned 2009 blockbuster threequel Ice Age: Dawn of the Dinosaurs. They won't make the mistake of risking a new franchise anytime soon; next year they've announced Ice Age: Continental Drift. No joke.

The top 9 highest-grossing films this year were sequels. On average, the top 8 films were the 4th entry in a franchise. The fourth! I can remember back to when my grandparents complained about how all that ever got churned out was sequels (as in direct sequels, number two in a series). They didn't know how good they had it. But this is presumably what people want. Or what advertisers have trained people to think they want.

Alright, then. Not depressed yet? Let's look at how the nominees for best picture fared. I'm going to list the nine nominees in order of their box-office takes, each one followed by a film that outgrossed them displayed in parenthesis as a point of comparison.

#13 The Help (Fast Five)

#41 War Horse (Battle: Los Angeles)

#42 The Descendants (Real Steel)

#46 Moneyball (Tower Heist)

#52 Hugo (Jack and Jill - This years front-runner at the Golden Raspberries)

#59 Midnight in Paris (Justin Bieber: Never Say Never)

#96 The Artist (Sucker Punch. A "fantasia of misogyny" - A. O. Scott)

#97 Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close (The Roommate)

#132 The Tree of Life (Judy Moody and the NOT Bummer Summer, Season of the Witch, etc.)

I like to think I have better taste than either the theater-swarming masses or the decrepit Academy, but then who doesn't? So here are my top 10 films of the year (make that 11, and keep in mind I didn't see everything, or even all that much) along with capsule summaries that may explain their lack of wide-scale appeal.

#132 The Tree of Life - Mankind, not to mention the individual, is doomed to a patrimony of struggle and bitterness, but don't worry, we're just insignificant motes in the grand scheme of the universe anyway.

#175 A Separation - An Iranian family deals with divorce, a grandparent with Alzheimer's disease and the contested miscarriage of an employee living in poverty. Even though everyone means well they still compromise their morals and tear each other apart.

#168 The Skin I Live In - Soap opera meets horror thriller meets sexual identity thesis in a beguiling, carefully-structured and admittedly unmarketable rabbit hole about an absurdly unethical surgeon, his beautiful experimental patient, and their complicated pasts.

#163 Shame - Loneliness and emptiness erode the soul. Sex doesn't help.

#170 Melancholia - Depression and the apocalypse are the only soulmates at a disastrous wedding.

#185 Take Shelter - You're either going insane or a terrifying storm is about to destroy everything and everyone you love.

#110 Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy - There's no honor among spies. Or action. Or even sex appeal.

#151 Margin Call - Investment bankers are greedy, but not happy.

#42 The Descendants - A family that stalks together, stays together (except for the terminally comatose adulterous wife).

#62 Source Code - A war vet uses time-travel to fight terrorism and fall in love. Too bad he's already dead. Or not... I guess.

#96 The Artist - 1929 hated the silent era. 2011 loves it.

Anyway, that's my take on 2011. Bitter as I sound, I ended up having a blast by the end! And I'm looking forward to the great films of 2012.

Review of Koalageddon 2

The past decade has seen a steady stream of environmental issue documentaries, of highly varying quality, doubtlessly leveraging popular interest in climate change and the plunging financial barriers to distributing independent shot-on-digital productions. Nowadays I tend to catch an uneven smattering of these films (grassroot documentaries being the type of thing I feel more obligated than excited to see), but several years ago when the concept was fresher and my motivation higher, I really kept up with them. It was around this time that I remember hearing about Koalageddon, a zero-budget documentary about the threat of deforestation (and formerly hunting) to the survival of Adelaidian koalas in Australia.

I didn’t catch the film when it played at the 2005 Saint Louis International Film Festival (it was the first I attended and I failed to schedule my time well), but I did Netflix it when it became widely available on DVD about a year later. It struck me as honestly pretty mediocre. Clearly a lot of passion had gone into the subject matter, but ultimately it came off as shrill and obsessive, with long unbroken shots of koalas set to narration that was more poetic than informative. A lot of the statistics sounded wrong or irrelevant, like comparing the U.S. expenditure on the Iraq War to the Australian Fund for the Protection of Endangered Species. Sure the latter is a paltry sum by comparison to the American defense budget, but I’m not sure the infographic vaguely equating tanks to koalas made any actual sense.

Worse still, director Liu Xiaojun (who intrudes into his subject matter with Michael Moore-like persistence) and several of his interview subjects are clearly describing pandas on several occasions. Most of the interviews are conducted in Mandarin, which starts feeling suspicious about fifteen minutes in, and though the subtitles are meticulous about displaying “koala” you can clearly hear the director and interviewees saying “xiongmao” (panda). I read later that Xiaojun had wanted to make a documentary about endangered pandas, but was pressured (some say violently) to change his topic by Chinese censors over fears that it would appear critical of their already-beleaguered environmental policies. The result may be one of the first documentaries whose subject is a metaphor for a wholly different subject. While this adds a touch of comedic surrealism to the film, Koalageddon was just too scattershot and unprofessional to make a big impression on me. I sent the DVD back to Netflex and forgot the whole thing. I figured I would never hear of Liu Xiaojun again.

And then the rumors began.

It all started here, in a 2009 article about Liu Xiaojun receiving a $2.25 million Australian Film Society grant to establish a permanent Adelaidian koala shelter and film a documentary on the process. It was to function as a sort sequel in which the ‘Koalageddon’ would be averted and was intended to be broadcast as a three part TV special. But in a massively embarrassing oversight, the last Adelaidian koala had already died in captivity four months earlier leading Xiaojun to call Peter Garrett, the Australian Minister for the Environment, Heritage and the Arts a “murderous hyena” and his grant “like putting a Band-Aid on a rotting corpse.” The rumors continued to heat up after Xiaojun refused to return the money and purportedly swore a blood oath to avenge the koalas during an interview with the Brisbane Daily Post. He promptly dropped off the public radar for more than a year.

If you’re reading this review you already know how the story ends: Xiaojun reemerged in August with “Koalageddon 2: Eucalyptus Now” a controversial action/horror film featuring zombie koalas, copious violence and one of the strangest sex scenes in recent memory. That would be odd enough as it is, but even more surprising is that the film is actually getting really good reviews. I had a chance to see it at this year’s festival and I have to admit Liu Xiaojun has made a masterpiece of sorts, hampered as it is by last-minute subtitling. He is poised to become an international star, but it looks unlikely that he plans to continue as a filmmaker.

Koalageddon 2 opens in a small park in Adelaide. A young girl reads the plaque under a stone monument memorializing the extinct species of local koala. A storm kicks up and the girl runs off to join her mother under an umbrella. The park is left empty as drops begin to fall. In next to no time a lightning bolt strikes the statue, bringing to life five adorable koalas whose eyes flash ominously crimson. The subtitled narration is especially unclear about how this metamorphosis works but it involves “Mother Dirt’s lust for revengement [sic]” and “the Lords of Blood and Milk.”

The koalas, listed as Nergal, Hannibal, Monstro, Ned and Deathweaver in the credits but never named in the course of movie, quickly split up to search for Eucalyptus leaves but become distracted from their mission by various modern conveniences and societal pitfalls. For nearly half the movie, which might be anywhere from a week to several decades within the movie’s universe (Xiaojun plays with chronology in a way that defies clear sequencing and demands multiple viewings), we watch the koalas adapting to contemporary culture. Nergal becomes addicted to comic books, internet porn and dope. Monstro binges on fast food and takes out his frustration at failing to emotionally connect with his middle-class coworkers by moonlighting as a graffiti artist and notorious vandal. Hannibal turns to prostitution, gets talked into a botched back-alley abortion, spins into a manic-depressive cycle fueled by regret and self-loathing and is ultimately drawn into the underground fetish club scene from which he never returns. Ned talks on a cell phone all day (we never find out to whom and it’s implied that there might not be anyone on the other end) while taking endless walks (filmed in staggeringly well-choreographed long takes) through Adelaide’s economically-booming but spiritually-bankrupt suburbs.

Only Deathweaver comes within reach of happiness after being rescued from mobsters by free-wheeling, debonair hobo Maverick ‘Coolpop’ Christman (played by Liu Xiaojun himself). The two promptly fall in love while outwitting various greedy businessmen, hypocritical priests, conservative politicians and even a snotty film critic.

In each of these scenarios the human characters never find the presence of talking koalas strange.

It isn’t until the last half-hour that the movie falls into the usual action and horror movie clichés. The koalas find their appetite for eucalyptus impossible to appease productively (though they hardly seem to try and only intermittent reference is made to a “global leaf shortage”) and begin to sate themselves on human flesh. This is ambiguously tied in with their bodies beginning to rot, presumably because they are zombies of some sort? Or is an allegory for their corrupted purity and innocence? Xiaojun’s screenplay is just trying to tackle too much, and I think he may have written himself into a corner. Still, the ensuing bloodbath is, from a purely aesthetic point of view, a really impressive piece of filmmaking. Several other extinct animals such as the thylacine, desert bandicoot and hopping mouse make cameos as they join in the carnage.

Coolpop Christman delivers several pace-destroying impassioned speeches pleading for both sides to stop fighting, live in harmony and practice a vegan diet. Nobody listens.

Even Deathweaver gradually succumbs to the craving for human meat, but his struggle to resist is especially bittersweet. In the film’s most touching moment, set against a blazing sunset backdrop and an elegiac symphony score, Maverick Christman takes his own life so that his friend and lover may safely feed for another week. The gesture, however, is ultimately useless. Deathweaver must eventually venture out into the streets for sustenance and is gunned down in a slow-motion hail of bullets.

At this point the little girl from the opening scene (the one seen reading the plaque) reappears in the audience of onlookers to deliver the film’s now-iconic final line: “Don’t you see? We are all koalas and oil is our eucalyptus!” While regarded as ham-fisted by some, it has become something of an environmentalist anthem in Asia and Australia and its penetration into the region's popular culture is already to the point where Thai cosmetics giant SenHyg has adopted “Oil is our eucalyptus” as the tagline for their latest eucalyptus oil hand cream.

The ending credits roll over a series of seemingly unrelated images from around Adelaide, absent of any of the characters we’ve been introduced to. It’s a little reminiscent of Antonioni’s ending in Eclipse. However, on closer inspection each frame has a disturbing reminder of the toll consumerism has taken on koalas: the teenage girl singing karaoke sports a jaunty koala-fur hat, the father figure grilling burgers in his backyard is using ground koala meat, the old man teaching chess to his grandson is playing with pieces carved from koala ivory (I suspect this last is Xiaojun’s artistic license and not a literal product). It’s all surprisingly moving.

Though Koalageddon 2: Eucalyptus Now is already establishing itself as a cult film, it’s not surprising that Australia is distancing itself from the work it inadvertently funded and China has banned it outright, not for the violence and nudity, but because of a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it shot in which Monstro morphs into a panda, grows 100 feet tall and crushes Zhongnanhai.

I don’t know whether we’ll see more by Xiaojun in the future or if, instead, his name will remain forever tied to these two idiosyncratic films, but I wish we had more like him. His combination of a heartfelt documentary core souped up with stylish genre fixings will likely serve as a formula for many movies to come.

Walrus Rating: 7.5