REVIEW: The Predator

There are a few notable trends that I keep noticing in modern movies that I'd like to talk about for just a bit. The first (and most irritating) is Hollywood's obnoxious over-reliance on 80's nostalgia. G.I. Joe, Transformers, Ninja Turtles, Robocop, Terminator, Thundercats, Ghostbusters; if it existed in the 1980's, you're probably gonna see its fetid corpse unearthed and propped up by a hack studio to make a quick buck. We've also witnessed the rise of the soft-reboot; a film that is, for all intents and purposes, a remake/reboot of a classic film franchise, except it's stated to take place in the main series continuity, making it a sequel, and thus okay. I feel like the most notable of these is The Force Awakens, but it's hardly a rarity nowadays, especially for big-budget franchises with a lot of brand recognition. We've also been seeing a lot of movies get utterly destroyed through reshoots. Normally, reshoots are a relatively innocuous practice, but it feels like as of late, more and more big-budget projects are suffering the slings of studio interference, producing an end result that turns out worse than anyone could have possibly predicted. The reason I choose to mention all of these phenomena is that Shane Black's The Predator manages to be a sterling example of all three with shockingly little effort.

The film opens as one would expect a Predator film to, with a spaceship hurtling towards Earth. After crash-landing in the South American jungle, everyone's favorite human-hunting space monster has a run-in with an Army Ranger by the name of Quinn McKenna (Boyd Holbrook). Battered from the crash, the Predator (Brian A. Prince) is actually incapacitated by the hard-boiled sniper, who makes off with the creature's mask and wrist gauntlet. Sensing that he's seen something he wasn't meant to have seen, Quinn mails the alien tech back home before he's taken into custody by government agents. Naturally, the government has captured the Predator as well, who inevitably escapes and sets out in search of his stolen gear (which has since ended up in the hands of McKenna's autistic son, Rory, played by Jacob Tremblay). With the help of a renegade biologist (Olivia Munn) and a ragtag gang of disabled veterans, it's up to Quinn to keep his son out of the way of an interplanetary blood war, all while avoiding the shadowy government agents who want him disappeared. Despite how exciting that may sound, I assure you large chunks of this movie are dull as all get-out.

When this movie was first announced, I was understandably optimistic. Shane Black is a solid director (who also starred in/wrote parts of the original Predator), and a natural choice to helm the next entry in the franchise (redundant title notwithstanding). Predator is one of those rare films like Robocop that works both ironically and unironically well; it's the movie that made Arnold Schwarzenegger an action superstar, and it's chock-full of all the hilariously dated tropes and clichés one would expect from such a film. At the same time, it executes its deceptively simple premise startlingly well, balancing both action and suspense until things reach a head at the surprisingly small-scale climax. It's got all the excess that 80's action movies are lauded for to this day, but it also understands and appreciates the effect some quieter, more intimate moments can have when establishing atmosphere and tone. If they wanted to have a soft reboot of Predator that took itself seriously for the most part, they could certainly do so and have it work out nicely; 2010's Predators is living proof of this.

Alternatively, if Shane Black wanted to turn the whole thing into an utter farce, lampooning the various action tropes that the original Predator helped establish, I could see that working out as well; plenty of relatively serious films have successfully made the transition to more comedic fare as time's gone on (the most notable example that comes to mind being the Evil Dead trilogy). Black has a penchant for snappy dialog, and his role as Hawkins in the original film provided much of the early comedic relief. This appears to be the approach that The Predator is going for, but unfortunately the whole thing runs into a critical error; it's not particularly funny. There's a few one-liners that got a sensible chuckle out of me, and the gore has the tendency to reach Monty Python and the Holy Grail levels of cheap, slapstick-y excess, but I doubt anyone would describe The Predator as a rollicking good time (unless a character saying "get to da choppa" before escaping on a bunch of stolen motorcycles is your idea of clever writing). Really, the script here is so bad that it gives Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom a run for its money, with such winners as "Motherf-cker hacked our vehicles" and "F-ck me in the face with an aardvark".

In the film's defense, the first act is more or less exactly what I wanted it to be; it's by no means groundbreaking, but it's a reasonably fun monster movie with some solid action (in particular, the sequence in which the Predator escapes from a government lab). But everything goes downhill quickly soon after that scene, up until the point that our bigger, badder, entirely CGI rival Predator shows up. After this new monster is introduced, the entire film breaks and goes down the drain, devoid of any intellect or charm it may have possessed beforehand. Before that point, the lackluster performances, groan-worthy one-liners, and bland, forgettable characters were just sort of there, but it was around this time that it all compounded and started actively making the movie worse, dragging it down into the realm of pure trash. From what we've learned, apparently the entire third-act of the movie was rebuilt from the ground up at the behest of 20th Century Fox, so it seems as though this is another film that may have had the potential to actually be something not terrible before a bunch of studio suits decided to stick their slimy paws all over it. Honestly, I'd have happily accepted a Predator movie that was "just okay", but instead got something that appears to put active effort into being terrible. And that's not even touching the way The Predator attempts to tackle such weighty topics as mental illness and climate change.

There was a clear attempt at having some subtext, pitting a team of mentally-disturbed veterans and a young child with Asperger's up against an alien menace who has modified his own DNA to become a genetically-perfect being. Truth be told, giving the main group of heroes in an action/slasher flick a host of neuroses and disorders to deal with in addition to the impending extraterrestrial threat is a pretty fascinating idea that could really result in something spectacular if handled properly by a talented filmmaker (like, say, Shane Black). Instead what we get is a series of jokes where the punchline is "the guy with Tourette's said something profane" and a kid who can use the power of autism to operate alien technology as if he were R2-D2. The disorders in this movie are treated as either a punchline or a plot convenience; I'm not even going to harangue The Predator for how potentially offensive such a portrayal is, that's just lazy writing. I'm still struggling to wrap my head around how this even turned out so bad; this is a movie written by Shane Black and Fred Dekker. These are the guys who gave us The Monster Squad for crying out loud, what the hell happened? Was this a Producers-esque scam? Or did the studio seriously interfere that much? No amount of explanation is really going to save this trainwreck, but I'll admit that I'm the least bit curious.

I'll admit, for all of its problems, The Predator would actually make for a pretty good bad movie. I can easily see this working well in a room full of intoxicated friends, or with a rowdy audience at the local theater; but at the same time, it's important that everyone understand that statements such as these aren't exactly points in the film's favor. If the kindest thing you can say about a movie is "it's not offensively bad, it's just stupid and forgettable", there's clearly a problem, especially when talented people are involved. It could be fun with the right audience, but then again so is the first Predator. Predator didn't need to be "ironically good", it was just "good". Every idea we see here (Predator hounds, genetic modification, a crazed government alien-hunter, a ragtag gang of ex-military guys throwing out vulgar banter, etc.) was already done far better in other Predator movies (yes, even Predator 2). Is it the worst thing ever? No. But is there a solid reason to run out and watch it? Also no.

If you're at all curious about just how stupid the plot to The Predator can get, make sure to check out my fresh-out-of-the-theater plot rundown on YouTube!

REVIEW: Clown

I feel as though, for as prevalent as the "killer clown" trope tends to be, the number of notable horror films actually featuring killer clowns is more than a little lacking. Just to name the big ones, there's the 1990 It miniseries, Killer Klowns From Outer Space, and... that's about it. I suppose you could also include Poltergeist if you really wanted to, but even that's a bit of a stretch. It's something I've always found a little surprising; coulraphobia is a pretty common fear, ripe for exploitation. Even if someone isn't necessarily "afraid" of clowns, it's not exactly difficult to make them into something reasonably creepy, at the very least. But alas, the vast majority of killer clown movies tend to end up as nothing more than straight-to-video trash you find in those "25 Horror Movies for $5" value packs. This is part of the reason I was so intrigued by Clown, a 2014 independent horror film produced by Eli Roth and directed by Spider-Man: Homecoming's Jon Watts.

Coming off like an absurdist twist between The Shining and The Fly, the plot focuses on an ordinary real-estate agent by the name of Kent McCoy (Andy Powers). Due to a double-booking incident, Kent and his wife (Laura Allen) find themselves without a clown for their son's birthday party. Thinking quickly, Kent happens upon an old clown suit in the basement of one of the properties he's selling. Setting his dignity aside for his son's special day, Kent dons the suit, nose, and rainbow wig to entertain the kids, seemingly saving the party. The next morning, however, Kent is shocked to discover that, for whatever reason, the clown suit won't come off. The wig has attached itself to his head and the goofy red nose causes him physical pain whenever he tries to remove it. It isn't long before Kent begins to realize that he is physically turning into a clown; his skin begins to turn chalk white, his feet grow longer, and the wig begins to replace his real hair down to the roots. On top of all that, we learn that the clown suit was in fact not a clown suit at all, but rather the skin of an Icelandic demon known as a "Clöyne", which used its colorful appearance to lure children to its cave before devouring them whole. It's up to Kent to discover a cure for his monstrous condition, before the demon's hold (and his newfound hunger for children) overwhelm him for good.

Right from the premise (and the movie's opening, which features a soundtrack of children screaming over vintage depictions of happy clowns), it's plain to see that this isn't a film that takes itself entirely seriously. There's a modicum of self-awareness that comes with a story about a man becoming a were-clown, and I'm glad to see that the filmmakers understood this. There's a good mixture of genuine suspense and pitch-black comedy to be found here, but I almost feel as though the end result is a bit uneven, to the point that some of it comes off as a bit too mean-spirited at times. Mixing genres such as horror and comedy can create a great sense of juxtaposition if done well, but it requires a delicate touch. If we actually end up taking something seriously, only for it to be undercut with a joke moments later, than the tone comes off as inconsistent, and the respective elements of the horror and comedy genres end up blending about as well as oil and water. There are moments where the film really does go for a serious, straightforward tone and, to the credit of the filmmakers, it honestly works quite well as a legitimate horror film. There's a good deal of stomach-turning body-horror that comes with seeing a man fuse with a musty old clown costume, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't cringe more than a few times during Kent's vain attempts to remove it.

Things get even more dire during the second act, when we see our main character, who began as a totally ordinary guy, take on the appearance of a homeless addict. It honestly comes off like a John Wayne Gacy-esque metaphor for a pedophile trying to avoid temptation before finally giving in; watching Kent struggle against his newfound demonic hunger is really quite tragic and unpleasant in a very strong, effective kind of way. Despite the absurd premise, I honestly feel like this could have worked as a 100% serious, straightforward horror film. But this genuine sense of tension and unease is undercut by all of the dark visual humor. We watch an ordinary family man tearfully submit to cannibalistic urges after accidentally murdering a small child, but we also get to watch a laughably fake severed arm ride a tidal wave of blood down a Chuck-E-Cheese fun slide. The dark elements are too dark and the silly elements are too silly; rather than contrasting, they just end up cancelling each other out, and by the time the climax rolls around, it just feels like generic schlock with absolutely nothing in the way of emotional stakes.

Now for all my griping, I still have to hand it to the filmmakers for such a delightfully twisted concept. I'm not quite sure what it is, but the idea that someone can turn into a clown (implying that clowns are inhuman) just makes me smile deep down inside. Making it so that the first clown was really a Nordic demon who lured children away from their villages with promises of sweets and capering is just the icing on the cake. I'm such a sucker for this kind of revisionist folklore, since it gives storytellers such a wealth of opportunity to play around with the established iconography of our collective culture. It's the kind of element I enjoyed the most in films like Krampus and Rise of the Guardians; by putting a unique twist on something so immediately recognizable, we're able to further immerse ourselves in the world of the film. As one might expect, this is the part of the movie that works the best. The first two acts build up a really strong sense of tension and intrigue that, along with the existential dread of Kent's situation, completely make this film. 

Unfortunately, the final act is where it all falls apart. All of the characters stop making sense and Kent himself turns into a generic, brainless movie monster. While everyone's characterization suffers during the final act, none are worse off than Kent's wife, Meg; this may come off as nitpicking, but it seriously cannot be understated how utterly loathsome this character turns out to be. For the entire movie, she's played a relatively inoffensive role, concerned for her husband and protective of their son (Christian Destephano). In the final act, she becomes the most unlikable excuse for a protagonist I think I've ever seen; not only does she endanger and abandon her child numerous times during the final battle, but she's also totally prepared to sacrifice an innocent little girl in an attempt to sate the demon's hunger. And that's to say nothing of how she completely abandoned poor Peter Stormare at a crime scene for no reason (even though we know he's innocent, there's no way that someone who looks like Peter Stormare is found holding a bloody axe near a bunch of mutilated kids and gets away with a happy ending). This kind of character assassination is just a symptom of a much bigger problem that befalls so many great ideas; the filmmakers wrote themselves into a corner. They had this amazing idea about a man who slowly turns into an evil clown, but they had no idea how to end it. So the end result is just a series of flaccid, pointless sequences that feel like a hurried attempt to just end the movie without any loose ends. The plot ends up stretched paper thin and what was once a really engaging, original horror film ends up feeling like anything but.

I wanted so badly to like Clown. And in some ways, I really do; I like exactly two thirds of it. The final act is exactly the kind of shallow, poorly-written dreck I had hoped it wouldn't be. In its defense, I've seen far worse (and I'm willing to bet that out of all the independent killer-clown movies that have come out in the past 20 years, this is likely one of the absolute best), but it still stands that "not bad" is really the most Clown can aspire to. If you're looking for something that comes agonizingly close to joining such films as Trick R Treat and The Babadook in the realm of cult classics before nosediving back down into the land of inconsequential schlock, give Clown a look. For what it's worth, I had my fun with it, even if I don't really see myself revisiting it any time soon. All in all, it may be somewhat forgettable, but I'd be hard pressed to call it regrettable.

REVIEW: The Thing (1982)

If there's one subgenre I wish modern horror films would care to dabble in more often, it's that of the special effects-laden creature feature. One would think that, considering the advancement of digital technology, horror flicks starring grotesque monsters would become more common, if anything. I suppose the lack of such films makes sense from a financial standpoint, considering studios can make yet another found-footage ghost movie for a measly $10 million and see their investment returned nearly tenfold at the box office (thanks to hordes of easily-impressed teens, no doubt), Still, my heart years for a time when movies like The Fly and Alien were commonplace. I'd love to see a brand-new wave of horror films that take place somewhere more imaginative than an upscale home in suburban California. I want a new generation of monsters that exist firmly in the horror genre, without having to turn the whole affair into a blockbuster action flick. Judging from current trends, none of this is likely to change anytime soon. Thankfully, I'll always have the classics to turn to, such as John Carpenter's 1982 gorefest, The Thing.

An adaptation of the 1938 sci-fi story, Who Goes There? (which had previously been adapted by Howard Hawks with 1953's The Thing From Another World), the plot follows a team of researchers stationed at U.S. Outpost #31 in the frozen wasteland of Antarctica.  After an ominous encounter with a Norwegian helicopter pilot pursuing a runaway sled dog, the team finds themselves in the presence of a hostile alien creature, one with the ability to imitate the appearance and behavior of any living thing. Naturally they deduce that, if this thing was to reach civilization, the result would be catastrophic at best, potentially apocalyptic at worst. Determined not to allow it to escape, the team plans to destroy the creature, all the while not sure who among them they can really trust. Tensions run high and the constant threat of betrayal and assimilation hangs in the air; spectacular effects aside, this is by no means a light watch. The conflict and uncertainty make for an uneasy tone that doesn't let up for a second.

In reviewing the film upon its release, the late Roger Ebert referred to it as "a great barf bag movie". No truer words have been spoken. The mind-blowing special effects come to us care of Rob Bottin, only 23 years old at the time of production. I'm not easily impressed when it comes to special effects; years of making-of documentaries have led to me more appreciating the effort of capturing an effect, rather than the effect itself. This is not the case with The Thing. While some may view Bottin's creations as excessively distracting, I found myself totally floored by how organic and visceral things are. It's hard to explain exactly what makes these effects stand out the way they do. Of course, the Thing itself is just a series of puppets, but it's the way these puppets and animatronics and make-up effects are put together and shot that really makes them shine (and glisten, though that's more due to sheer gallons of K-Y jelly). 

It may sound detrimental to say that this movie wouldn't be nearly as strong without its special effects, but I feel that can be forgiven considering how integral the effects are to establishing the overall tone. Everything but the creature designs is totally understated; the performances are for the most part reserved, the landscape is white and barren, and the soundtrack (care of Ennio Morricone) is composed of pulsing bass and methodical synths. When you put a character against this backdrop, only to have their chest explode outward in a fountain of viscera while their head sprouts eye stalks and spider legs, it creates a stark contrast. The Thing never reveals itself in a subtle way. Each scene is a powder keg waiting to devolve into panicked chaos the moment someone bursts open to reveal a writhing mass of tentacles and teeth.

Unfortunately, the strong emphasis on visual effects leads to my only real gripe with this film. While it's a joy to look at (thanks in no small part to the cinematography of frequent Carpenter collaborator Dean Cundey), I felt as though the characterization received less attention as a result. Kurt Russell is a fine leading man and a few cast members (Wilford Brimley, Moffat, and Keith David in particular) manage to leave an impression, but the script just doesn't devote much time to developing these characters. The majority of the inhabitants of Outpost #31 simply exist to turn into Things and are more or less distinguishable by appearance alone. This is a common issue with horror movies that unfortunately comes with the genre; some characters are naturally going to get less screentime than others (on account of death), so it's almost expected for there to be a few who feel flat or underdeveloped. Films can circumvent this by going for the slow-burn approach and devoting the entire first act to character building, but this doesn't necessarily work for every creative vision (after all, not every horror film can be Alien). This is definitely a movie that knows what its priorities are; its strengths lie in building an oppressive, paranoid atmosphere that permeates throughout the entire film. This unfortunately comes at the cost of particularly strong characterization. It's less of a story about people and more a cerebral experience for the viewer. When a character is revealed to be the Thing in disguise, we're meant to feel surprise, rather than sympathy. It isn't exactly a revolutionary display of characterization, but then that's not necessarily what the film's goal was. The goal was to keep viewers on their toes, constantly guessing who was human and who wasn't, and in that regard it works very well.

Though it was financially underwhelming and received generally poor feedback upon its initial release, audiences have really come around on The Thing in the years since. It's visually vulgar and a tad over-indulgent at times, yes, but it's also a genuinely compelling experience. Director John Carpenter has stated that "of course, The Thing is a metaphor for whatever you want to say. It's disease, could be AIDS, could be whatever. But it comes from within you." It's this idea of assimilation, of danger lurking just under the skin, where you cannot see it, that makes for such an effective experience. It's a very existential kind of horror, feeding off of our inherent fear of the unknown. It's a movie that preys on doubt and suspicion and disbelief, and it does so with gallons of blood and gore galore. It's a classic entry in the horror genre, not one to be missed.

REVIEW: South Park- Bigger, Longer, and Uncut

Usually on this blog, I'll take a look at a movie that I've never seen before; it keeps things fresh and exposes me to a vast number of movies I may not have checked out otherwise. However, sometimes it's refreshing (funnily enough) to kick back with an old classic that I've seen a million times before. A film that I could probably recite from start to finish with close to 100% accuracy. A film that manages to be biting, hilarious, and perpetually relevant (in addition to being a strong contender for my personal favorite musical of all time). Ladies and gentlemen, South Park: Bigger, Longer, and Uncut.

The plot of this film is about as meta as they come. After the boys attend a screening of the new Terrance and Phillip movie, South Park Elementary becomes a hotbed of profanity and Canadian toilet humor. Enraged that their sweet, impressionable children have been warped by this bawdy foreign smut, the mothers of South Park form an anti-Canadian activist organization looking to censor the film and ban anything deemed harmful to the innocent children of America. What starts as a simple protest erupts into an all-out war between the USA and their neighbor to the north; to make matters worse, the ruler of the underworld, Satan himself, is planning to ascend to the mortal plane and conquer Earth with the help of his lover, Saddam Hussein. It's as manic a plot as is to be expected from South Park, but to put it simply, as is stated multiple times in the movie, "it's about censorship".

Over the soon to be 20 years of South Park's existence, Trey Parker and Matt Stone have proven themselves to be master satirists, and BL&U is no exception. Despite the film very clearly taking place in 1999 (Bill Clinton is in the White House, Conan O'Brien is still hosting Late Night, and Windows 98 is a recent release), the overall message of the dangers of censorship and well-meaning intolerance ring true to this day. The film toes the line of being a bit too on-the-nose at times (the Academy Award-nominated "Blame Canada" ends with a gathering of parents proclaiming that "we must blame them and cause a fuss before someone thinks of blaming us"), but it is this refuge in audacity that makes the film such a brilliant joy to behold. In an era where parents are still ignorant enough to take their children to see Deadpool, only to complain to theater staff after witnessing the "Calendar Girl" sex montage, South Park: Bigger, Longer, and Uncut is a film with a timeless tale to tell.

The film also targets the MPAA (and American society in general) for the odd double-standard of embracing depictions of violence while abhorring naughty language. The list of things deemed "offensive" is growing and changing with each day, and this movie seeks to put everything in perspective. This is a film made in 1999 in which Saddam Hussein is the primary antagonist; though it's mentioned in the beginning of the movie that he was killed by a pack of wild boars, the real-life Hussein was very much alive at the time of the film's release. In a brilliant move, South Park frames its detractors as the mothers in the film; people who, despite their good intentions, are altogether more concerned with potty language than the brutal dictator amassing his power. It's a film that forces anyone who's ever gotten up in arms about "offensive" media, humor, or language to take an objective look at what it is they're fighting for, consider all the other problems plaguing the world at that moment, and then decide if this is truly the hill they wish to die on.

Any discussion of this film would be utterly incomplete without mentioning the fantastic musical numbers. While Book of Mormon stunned the uninitiated, BL&U and Cannibal! acted as early proof that Parker and Stone could construct a musical that's as airtight and masterful as it is irreverent and profane. The songs in this film lampoon every classical musical trope under the sun, from the "it's morning in my little town" opening numbers of Beauty and the Beast and Oklahoma! ("Mountain Town"), to the "longing for something more" Disney ballads of Alan Menkin ("Up There"), to the elaborate, flashy production numbers of Busby Berkeley ("I'm Super"). The film is like a skewed crash-course in musical history. Juxtaposing the upbeat, campy trademarks of classical musical theater with the sardonic, raunchy, and often bloody subject matter makes for a movie that's effective as both satire and a legitimate musical in its own right.

Though it may sound out of place to say this about a cartoon with construction paper characters and fart jokes galore, I consider South Park: Bigger, Longer, and Uncut to be a nearly perfect film. It's as smart as it is hilarious and manages to be one of the seldom few television-to-film adaptations that remains totally accessible to those who aren't familiar with the original show without suffering quality-wise in the slightest. The humor hits hard and often, the songs will remain in your head for days, and the commentary provided proves that a film doesn't have to be self-serious Oscar bait to have something intelligent and relevant to say. If you enjoy film as an art form, this is a movie you simply have to watch. Check it out, and Viva La Resistance.

REVIEW: Turbo Kid

The second the painfully 80's opening logos hit the screen, I was immediately terrified that I was about to experience another Kung Fury. Just like Kung Fury, Turbo Kid is an independent action/comedy film released in 2015 that finds itself firmly entrenched within the culture of the 80's and 90's. However, while Kung Fury was nothing more than a collection of neon and non-sequiturs, Turbo Kid actually remembers that it has to be a movie. Unlike Kung Fury, Turbo Kid has an actual plot and characters. That's not to say that this is the strongest plot or that these are the strongest characters I've ever seen, but I digress.

Taking place in the post-apocalyptic year of 1997, the story follows The Kid (Munro Chambers), a boy-with-no-name who lives a life of solitude in the arid wasteland the world has become. After crossing paths with an eccentric girl named Apple (Laurence Leboeuf) and finding a discarded superhero suit, The Kid decides to rise up against the tyrannical leader of the Wasteland, Zeus (Michael Ironside). To get my biggest complaint with the film out of the way up front, the plot isn't great. There's a number of holes and inconsistencies which begin to pile up around the third act (most of them involving robots, who seem to operate on whatever set of rules best serves to move the story along). However, while the proverbial boat has its fair share of holes, it still stays more or less afloat until the credits roll. There's a beginning, middle, and end, character motivations are clear, and there's never really any confusion or nonsense to clog things up. It's not an excellent plot, but it functions just fine, which is more than I can usually say for indie films that are essentially based off of little more than a fun idea and a heap of nostalgia for the years before the new millennium.

While it may seem a tad shallow of me to say this, Turbo Kid is definitely a film in which the plot takes a backseat to the fun. The world in which this all takes place is fleshed out to an impressive degree; any references to the 80's (such as appearances from pink lawn flamingos and a Viewmaster) make perfect sense, considering that the junk of the 80's would be the trash and salvage of the post-apocalyptic 90's. It's essentially Mad Max, but with bikes instead of cars. In addition to being far cheaper to film, bicycles don't require any gasoline to run. The result is a unique blend of The Road Warrior and Rad, managing to pay tribute to an era of film and pop-culture while still giving the movie a look and identity of its own.

Speaking of looks, I would be remiss if I didn't bring up the phenomenally silly gore effects. There is hardly any garish CGI blood to be found here; this movie brutally dismembers mannequins and sprays corn syrup with all the eagerness and enthusiasm of a young Sam Raimi or Peter Jackson. I make no exaggeration when I say that this movie contains some of my favorite instances of cartoonish bloodshed and dismemberment ever committed to film. It would almost be hard to watch if it wasn't so absurd; as goofy as it is, this is probably not the film to watch if you've got an especially weak stomach.

The main cast all does fine work; Chambers is awkward and endearing as The Kid and, even though I found Leboeuf's Apple to be supremely annoying when she first appeared, I must admit that she gradually won me over somewhat. Michael Ironside couldn't be cornier in his role as the main antagonist, seemingly channeling the main villain from the Lethal Weapon sequels on It's Always Sunny. Aaron Jeffery also appears as Frederick the Arm Wrestler, without a doubt the coolest character in the movie. I almost wouldn't have minded him being the main protagonist, as he doesn't appear nearly as often as I would have liked. While the performances aren't particularly mind-blowing, the characters are endearing and memorable and help add something to this film aside from a cool setting and spectacular gore.

While it's not exactly loaded with substance, I still found Turbo Kid to be a good deal of fun. It's like a cinematic slice of cake; it's not exactly a "smart" choice, with little to offer in the way of substance. That said, it tastes good and it'll probably make you smile at least a little bit. While I do sincerely wish that the story was tighter, I in no way feel as though I've wasted my time giving Turbo Kid a watch. If you're looking for something different with buckets of bombastic gore, you could certainly do a lot worse than Turbo Kid.

REVIEW: Robocop

With a title like Robocop, you'd probably expect this 1987 action flick to be nothing but schlock. You'd be partially right; a film about a police officer in dystopian Detroit who is murdered and subsequently resurrected as a law-bringing cyborg is definitely going to exude its fair amount of cheese. However, like the titular officer himself, the film (while looking a bit silly and clunky on the outside) has a very human spirit within.

The plot, as one would expect, involves a cop. A Robocop, as it were. Officer Alex Murphy (Peter Weller) is an all-around good guy family man, transferred to a beleaguered precinct in the heart of a vaguely futuristic Detroit. Crime runs rampant and the police force has been privatized by the mega-corporation known as Omni Consumer Products. After Murphy is brutally murdered by a gang of criminals led by the sadistic Clarence Boddicker (Kurtwood Smith), he is brought back to life by OCP scientists in the form of Robocop, the future of law enforcement. The film then follows Robocop as he gradually begins to remember his life as Alex Murphy, setting out on a quest to bring the men who killed him to justice. It's a classic B-movie revenge story told in a suprisingly sophisticated fashion. For example, I particularly enjoyed the sequence in which Murphy actually becomes Robocop. We end up seeing things from his point of view, giving us a feeling for just how terrifying and uncomfortable it would be to be turned from a man into a product. Throughout the entire film, Robo is referred to by OCP executives as their property, a device manufactured in their labs to be sold for a profit. We watch Murphy die, be stripped of his humanity by the paramilitary business machine, then slowly regain it on his own terms. As I said before, while Robocop is a pretty silly concept, it's definitely got a brain.

Peter Weller is really fantastic in the starring role. We only see him as Murphy for a short time, but he pulls off the role of a likeable nice-guy cop well. The film establishes him as a family man without resorting to clunky expository dialog, humanizing our protagonist before we see Red Forman blast him into oblivion. Once he becomes Robocop, Weller's performance does a complete 180 (not in quality, but in tone); Robo is stoic and monotone, a far-cry from the man he once was. The fact that we get to see what Murphy once was compared to what he's become makes his transformation all the more tragic. As the film progresses, more and more of Murphy's original personality begins to shine through, making for a really enjoyable, sympathetic protagonist. By his side is Officer Anne Lewis, played by Nancy Allen. The best thing about this character is that she feels like Robocop's partner, not his sidekick. Female characters in Lewis' position tend to either end up as flawless badasses who don't need no man or hapless damsels who serve no purpose throughout the entire film; I would hazard to say that Lewis is one of the best female action protagonists of this era. It's true that she doesn't get as much time or development as Murphy (unfortunately, that comes with the territory of being the secondary protagonist), but she's wholly relatable and never once feels useless or overpowered. There's no shoehorned love story, she isn't kidnapped by the main villain, everything in this movie feels essential to the plot. At just over an hour and a half, this is a movie with very little fat to trim.

Filling the role of villains, we have Kurtwood Smith as Clarence Boddicker and Ronny Cox as OCP executive, Dick Jones. First off, both of these characters have superb names. Honestly, I could say "Clarence Boddicker" all day and never get tired of hearing it. So bonus points for a strong display of euphany. The performances are what really matter here, though, so it's a good thing that these two are an absolute joy to watch (particularly Kurtwood Smith). Clarence Boddicker is such a good 80's villain; he's a violent psychopath who isn't written as anything more than he is. He's not some "agent of chaos" or anything like that. His line of work often brings him into conflict with the law, so, as he so elegantly puts it, "I don't like cops". Like Collin Farrell's Bullseye in Daredevil, this is a villain who treats his wrongdoing like a job; he's good at it and he enjoys doing it. Ronny Cox's appropriately named Dick Jones is pretty great too, playing the smug, scheming slimeball to Smith's unbalanced killer. He's the definitive power-hungry businessman, eager to climb the corporate ladder regardless of how many bodies he has to step over to get there. He brings his own form of mechanized law-enforcement to the table in the form of ED-209, a big, clunky chickenwalker that intimidates would-be criminals by playing recordings of lions before mutilating them with twin-mounted miniguns. The special effects here are pretty simplistic (which is to be expected, considering the film's relatively meager budget), but they have a certain charm to them. ED-209 in particular is really fun to watch; it's obviously done with the use of stop-motion, but it ends up looking really distinct from everything else on screen. Whenever it moves, it's both fascinating and endearing, considering that actual people had to make everything on screen with their bare hands. This film was made in just the right era; CGI hadn't been widespread yet, so there's strong use of squibs, prosthetics, dummies, miniatures, and other practical effects. While the visuals have obviously aged, I'd say that they've aged well; instead of sticking out and looking downright unpleasant, everything has a real charm to it, which definitely helps things in the long run.

Robocop is a film that could have easily been yet another schlocky 80's action flick. All of the elements are there; a dystopian future city, a revenge story, drugs, gratuitous violence, some mild body horror, and a big message about consumerist society. There's even a scene in a seedy strobe-filled night club. The thing about Robocop, however, is that it actually works well. It doesn't feel like a load of schlock meant to sell toys, all while denouncing consumerism behind a backdrop of blood and gore. Not to say that the film didn't sell toys; hell, I've got a Night-Fighter Robocop on my nightstand right now. It's bloody and violent and there's a good amount of swearing and explosions and the protagonist makes for some really awesome action figures. But it's also got a great character story running through all of that, conveying messages about everything from privatization and militarism to fascism and gentrification. If you're looking for a fun 80's flick with a little more meat than your average boomfest, I highly recommend you give Robocop a watch.

REVIEW: Dredd

I'm going to start this review by saying that I know absolutely nothing about Judge Dredd. I've never read any of the comics and I haven't subjected myself to the 1995 trainwreck starring Sylvester Stallone (yet). All I really know about Judge Dredd is that he is apparently never shown without his helmet. This detail is recreated faithfully in 2012's Dredd; Karl Urban definitely deserves a fair amount of kudos for his performance, considering that the upper half of his face is literally never on screen throughout the duration. Urban's gravely-voiced opening narration informs us that, in an atomic wasteland of a future (because really, is there any other kind of future?), most of the East Coast of the US has been merged into the megalithic metropolis, Mega-City One. Crime has ravaged the streets and the only justice is provided by the Judges, an elite force of super-cops who act as judge, jury, and (if necessary) executioner.

As I mentioned, Dredd was released in September of 2012 under the title Dredd 3D. If you weren't aware that this movie was shot in 3D, you certainly will be by the time it's over; essentially every action sequence contains some display of fantastical violence that I'm certain looked rather spectacular on the big screen in a theater full of excited moviegoers. That said, when one watches it at home, in 2D, the effect is nonexistent at the best of times, slightly obnoxious at the worst. All of the fanciful, slow-motion shots of the carnage come to us care of the futuristic street drug, aptly named Slo-Mo. The general idea is that, when it is inhaled, it tricks the user's brain into believing that the world is moving in slow-motion. As dystopian future super narcotics go, this one is definitely one of the coolest.

The drug is peddled through the criminal underworld by one Madeline "Ma-Ma" Madrigal, portrayed by Lena Headey (a perfect fit for the role of a threatening, underhanded woman in power, I'm sure any Game of Thrones fans would agree). She operates out of Peach Trees, a massive, 200-floor super-tenement; after murdering a group of competing drug dealers in the public atrium, Judge Dredd (Urban) is called in to investigate. With him is a Judge-in-training, the psychic Cassandra Anderson (Olivia Thirlby). Once the cops are inside the giant slum tower, the mastermind drug dealer traps them inside and, through the use of a PA system, commands all of the residents to kill the intruders. If that sounds anything like The Raid: Redemption (another action film released in 2012, albeit months before Dredd hit theaters), that's because the first half of the movie is basically a futuristic version of The Raid, just not quite as good.

For all the complaining I've done so far, you might be under the impression that I disliked this film. You'd be wrong; do note how I said "first half". Up until the 45 minute mark, Dredd is somewhat unremarkable for anyone who's seen The Raid. It simply hits all the same beats, right down to the "heroes hide in an occupied apartment" and "villain watches heroes' progress through wall of monitors" scenes. That said, the second half of the film truly makes up for the simply decent first half. The plot begins to blossom into its own unique thing and we're treated to a lot more interesting character moments from both Dredd and Anderson; basically, the second half of this movie is good enough that it makes me sad that the first half wasn't equally as good.

Despite my gripes with the story, this is, for the most part, a very good-looking film. Obvious 3D money shots aside, the cinematography is really great and the look of Dredd's world is truly intriguing to look at. It's a landscape that mirrors our protagonist; we know very little about it outside of what we're told, so it ends up a really mysterious, interesting kind of thing. Like the titular Judge himself, we look at the bleak, grimy interiors and exteriors of Mega-City One and wonder how it ended up like it did. It's an immersive film, drawing the viewer in and keeping them interested. The action is quite engaging, though I feel as though I must protest the use of CGI blood. It just looks horrible; maybe it worked better in 3D, but in 2D it just looks like bright-red Nickelodeon slime. It's jarring when the characters and their surroundings are so dingy while the gore that explodes out of them may as well have been made using assets lifted from Team Fortress 2.

There are some really good performances on display here, despite the main cast not being particularly large. Karl Urban's Judge Dredd is great fun to watch, managing to be both the coolest and cheesiest thing in the movie at the same time. He's a grizzled badass with a permanent scowl on his face and one of cinema's coolest guns on his hip; he carries out his duty without prejudice or exception. Aside from what we see, we know absolutely nothing about him. While Dredd isn't the most emotionally diverse character, Urban manages to convey his thoughts and feelings without the use of his eyes for the entire film. He stands in the middle of the madness around him like a pillar of stone, which really makes you wonder just what happened to this man that turned him into this force of nature. Olivia Thirlby's Anderson compliments him nicely, playing the optimistic, untrained rookie to Urban's jaded veteran. As a psychic, her character provides an interesting spin on the idea of a Judge; they're meant to uphold the law no matter what, remaining resolute and unbent, yet she is able to see into people to their core. Their on-screen chemistry is definitely one of the highlights of this movie. Lena Headey is great as always, though I really do wish I saw more of her. She had the potential to be a legitimately terrifying villain; while she comes close, I feel as though she didn't quite reach her full potential.

For all its flaws, Dredd was a fun time. The first half will be familiar territory to anyone who's seen The Raid: Redemption, but I feel as though the rest of the film more than makes up for it. It's a shame that we won't likely get a sequel, considering how much I enjoyed this and wish to see more of this world. That said, we might as well enjoy what we've got, seeing as how what we've got is quite good.

REVIEW: Attack the Block

Released in 2011, Attack the Block has since transcended its meager beginnings and gone on to become a cult favorite, and with good reason. Directed by Joe Cornish, the film centers on a group of British hoodlums who, after killing an alien creature, must defend their neighborhood from a veritable invasion of extraterrestrials. 

The plot is classic sci-fi; hostile creatures invade a town (or in this case, South London) and the only people who know or care about it are the troublemaking kids. The police are oblivious to the real problem and before long it's up to the antihero leader (the aptly named Moses, played by John Boyega) to save everyone from the interstellar scourge. That said, this is a film which takes classic genre tropes and adds a twist to keep things unique and interesting. Just as Alien provided a clever spin on the haunted house/slasher flick, Attack the Block is a modern take on classics like Gremlins or The Blob. The "kids" here aren't portrayed as Dennis the Menace-esque foils to the stuffy adults, but rather as actual teenagers who are really involved in some unseemly stuff. The police don't bust Moses and crew for drag racing or skipping school; the opening scene depicts a young woman (Sam, portrayed by Jodie Whittaker) being mugged and threatened at knifepoint by our so-called protagonists. 

And therein lies one of the recurring themes of Attack the Block; at its core, this is a movie about who people really are when the chips are down. In another film, it would be perfectly reasonable to say that Moses and his street gang could be portrayed as villains; as we explore their characters, we see that, despite their criminal activities, none of these kids are really bad people. They act out due to the circumstances in life that they've found themselves in. Once those circumstances change (thanks to some "big, gorilla-wolf motherf*ckers"), they are forced to become heroes in their own right.

However, none of this would have worked upon viewing, had it not been for the utterly spectacular cast. John Boyega is clearly the breakout star; his performance as Moses is just excellent, saying little but getting across so much. Boyega is set to appear in Star Wars: The Force Awakens this December; if he's anywhere near as good in that as he is in this, it'll be a great watch for sure. Truthfully, all of the gang members are really excellent to watch, each one simply oozing with character; the biggest strength of the film lies in the raw chemistry present among the main cast. Jodie Whittaker's Sam acts as the odd one out among the main characters; as the film goes on, the young nurse has no choice but to join forces with her former assailants. She provides good contrast to the group, making for a lot of interesting moments when the only people she can rely on in the midst of deadly chaos are the same renegade teens who pulled a knife on her earlier in the evening.

Rounding out the supporting cast are Nick Frost as Ron (a local drug dealer), Luke Treadaway as Brewis (a local stoner), and Jumayn Hunter as Hi-Hatz (a local drug lord). Each of these characters are fun to watch (especially Hunter's psychotic gangster), but none of them are truthfully as interesting or entertaining as the main group. 

Speaking of interesting and entertaining, the monsters in this film are utterly top-notch. Really, these gorilla-wolf-dog things are some of the coolest creatures I've ever seen on film. The aliens in Attack the Block are a sterling example of what can be achieved when practical special effects and CGI are used in tandem. There isn't much gore, but what is present is really good (one instance near the climax actually got a verbal response out of me- not a very easy thing to do). This is an utterly gorgeous film, especially when one considers the indie budget that this movie was made on. The cinematography and music are fantastic, giving everything a unique, dynamic feel. There's as much character in the visuals as there is in the cast. 

I have a theory that some of the best films out there take a classic story or idea, then present it in its own unique way. This film certainly succeeds on this front, introducing something wholly familiar and original at the same time. As fun to look at as it is to watch, Attack the Block is a stellar entry into the alien invasion genre, managing to be exciting, scary, hilarious, and heartfelt while never once feeling boring. 
Believe.