With or without his trademark mustache, Burt Reynolds was a demigod on two legs and four wheels. His most crowd-pleasing sleeper was ‘Smokey & The Bandit’ but Burt was more prolific than just vehicular mayhem and Southern-fried charm. For every ‘The Longest Yard’ and ‘Deliverance’, there was a relatively minor entry in Burt’s dilating filmography. While I consider myself a Reynolds-phile, there are several titles I have neglected to see heretofore. Since his recent passing cast such a wide pallor over my fondness for his legacy, I’ve decided to hydroplane over his blockbusters and throttle through his lesser-known pictures.

Navajo Joe (1965)

For some reason, Burt was typecast as a Native American in his early career from Gunsmoke to this spaghetti western. While he was quite swarthy at the time, his looks are distinctly WASP-y. Sergio Corbucci doesn’t dawdle with superfluous runtime before a group of desperadoes remorselessly slaughter Navajo Joe’s (Reynolds) tribe wholesale. A scalping of a Native woman is particularly grisly. As with most Dino De Laurentiis productions, the film is boldly lurid on a wide canvass. Genre plagiarist Quentin Tarantino even purloined some of the musical cues for Kill Bill and for good reason, the score is sensationally thunderous.

As Joe, Reynolds is nearly apparitional as a majority of the flick hinges on the outlaws. He looms over the hillside and vanishes after extracting vengeance. The dubbing is venial since Burt is just looping himself. The film itself is unrelentingly grungy, sharply lean and viciously wanton (various horses are visibly injured for a stagecoach stunt and later a tree branch topples onto one). Burt is more virile than ever and he looks athletically possessed when he bounding over horses and firing rifles at his enemies. This is truly an unsung gem in Burt’s catalogue.

Rating: 4 out of 5

Heat (1986)

Based on a novel by William Goldman, the wunderkind behind ‘The Princess Bride’ and ‘Butch Cassidy and The Sundance Kid’, ‘Heat’ was a downswing for Burt after the colossal box-office dud that was ‘City Heat’. Originally earmarked for ambient-floor-noise auteur Robert Altman, the film vacillated between two other directors and the end result is a disjointed, capricious adaptation in the guise of a burnished character study. The shortcomings are not the screenplay which is chock-full of quotable colloquy (“I’m not a virgin except in my heart.”) that doesn’t falter into the Goldman quagmire of being too overripe and quippy.

The phlegmatic direction by either Dick Richards and Jerry Jameson is the reason for the film’s perdition. The quizzical introduction to Nick Escalante’s (Reynolds) “chaperone” occupation limps along without energy. The few action scenes are irrevocably hamstrung by jarringly feckless slow-motion and conspicuous stunt doubles (Burt’s akimbo kick into an overhead light is obviously not the 50-year-old Reynolds). Additionally, DeMarco (Neill Barry), the avaricious, misogynistic villain, is a sniveling, skinny underachiever who poses no threat to Nick. Equally dispiriting is the anticlimactic comeuppance for DeMarco.

Rating: 2.25 out of 5

City Heat (1984)

Clint Eastwood and Burt Reynolds were peers from their contract-player days and it was only a matter of time before the two machismo juggernauts would join each other for a dual vanity project. Of the pair, Reynolds is the more daffy but the picture is oddly mirthless and stillborn despite the pedigree of the stars and director Richard Benjamin. Burt is too overcranked with his Mel Blanc reactions while the more low-key Eastwood can easily elicit a snicker from an eyebrow twitch when his coffee is accidentally splattered during a thug confrontation.

Speaking of the tussle quotient, in lieu of a rapturous storyline, the film is a Sisyphean string of fist fights and brawls (one of which was the catalyst for Burt’s jaw to be wired shut and a subsequent weight loss). What exactly is side-splitting about a multitude of glanced punches? Somehow, the 1933 period environment is strictly insular and cloistral with the studio backlot shrinking the milieu.

Perhaps a backlash of ego, Eastwood and Reynolds hardly share the frame together. They investigate the murder of Murphy’s (Reynolds) partner on parallel treks that scarcely intersect. While the film is scandalously bereft of chortles, it won’t trigger vehement hatred because of the jovial aura underneath the hapless flotsam. One peculiar sidenote is Reynolds is masticating on a matchstick at one point which could be the inspiration for Sylvester Stallone’s eccentricities in the mammoth guilty pleasure ‘Cobra’.

Rating: 1.75 out of 5

I understand that some movies elude my breadth of appeal. Non-Disney animated movies, Bollywood musicals, wrestling documentaries, anything by Terrence Malick. None of these are of particular interest to me or fall within my purview. Then there’s a category of movies where the demographic that they’re aimed towards is muddled, nonexistent or extremely niche. The Happytime Murders was released this past weekend and it has me musing about other movies that contain elements geared towards a select few.

Where the Wild Things Are (2009)

I utterly adore the dyspeptic the-sun-is-dying melancholia of Spike Jonze’s cult classic but wasn’t the Maurice Sendak book a lullaby to be read to children at night? It’s a slim book and therefore, the filmmakers had to fabricate a fair amount of ancillary material to sustain a feature-length movie. What emerged was a treatise on loneliness and isolation during adolescence that adults would empathize with but would put some kids into a stupor. The creatures are so photorealistic that adults will be in awe and their younger cohorts will be trembling with fear the next time they enter a forest. I imagine a theater of terrified tots as Carol’s (voiced by James Gandolfini) oval-shaped eyes are welling up and he disembowels Douglas. Nightmare recipe indeed.

Jem and the Holograms (2015)

The Hasbro show was not widely regarded as a benchmark of the media during its infinitesimal run from 1985-1988. In fact, I would’ve been the target market for the show yet I never saw an episode and no one ever raved about it during recess. It didn’t fall into obscurity; it conveniently survived there as a troglodytic program. In the decades since, it was an artifact of kitschy glam rock and rarely discussed. By 2015, 80’s nostalgia fever was in full swing and probably the cheapest relic to gain the rights to was Jem. However, who was the movie for? It’s not tongue-in-cheek like Josie and the Pussycats. It’s starkly solemn and no one under the age of 30 would have title recognition. It tanked upon release and was the fourth worst opening ever for a film released in more than 2,000 screens.

Slapstick of Another Kind (1984)

Kurt Vonnegut usually publishes book for the more erudite among us. His prose can be challenging and intellectually serpentine to say the least. What possessed multihyphenate Steven Paul to browse through Vonnegut’s absurdist form of therapy after his sister death and transform it into a truly execrable comedy with Jerry Lewis and Madeline Kahn playing the telepathic twins. On top of that, Lewis indulges in his offensive shtick about the mentally handicapped and there are jokes about possible incest between the two siblings due to their inseparability. It’s the kind of movie that will permanently crease your forehead and slouch the corners of your mouth into frowns.

Nothing But Trouble (1991)

A Razzie tour-de-force that is the brainchild of Dan Aykroyd, Nothing But Trouble represents him at his most unfiltered. The film begins as yuppie romantic comedy between Chevy Chase and Demi Moore. Then the wheel spirals to another tone once the couple enters the hoarder burg of Valkenvania. Aykroyd probably wasn’t given studio notes and as Judge Alvin, he is energetically fiendish and bloodthirsty. The only issue is the marketing as a laugh-a-minute horror-comedy hybrid. Everything in the set design is grungy, scatological (i.e. The bat room) or festering with staph-infection hazards. From a production standpoint, it’s a labor of toxic love. By hilarity standards, the sight of a deformed man peeling off his nose and upper lip don’t inspire an uproar. On the other hand, one must bestow laurels upon the Grand Guignol inventiveness inside Aykroyd’s askew mindset.

Ever been to your friend’s house and they’ve bought a new video game? They hype it up, put in the disc/cartridge and you two anxiously watch the spinning wheel of the loading screen. Then, before you can read the strategy guide, your friend apprehends the controller and begins their vicarious interactive derring-do solo. Remember how deflated you felt to be the passenger on the madcap ride? Basically, that’s how Hollywood hijacks and commandeers the viewing experience in regards to console game adaptations. Not to commit the same sin of shanghaiing the op-ed article but be my NPC on this examination of a few of the best and worst specimens.

5. Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time (2010)- With diversity being a buzzword among the Hollywood executives today, Prince of Persia might be the prime example of how whitewashing can result in cataclysmic miscasting. Jake Gyllenhaal can play many roles on the Caucasian spectrum but a swarthy Persian  street urchin-cum-heir to the throne is not within that ethnic margin. Then he is flanked by posh English actors (Ben Kingsley, Toby Kebbell, Gemma Arterton) which might be a statement on the British imperialism and colonialism in the Middle East but I doubt the filmmakers are on the pundit level of Gore Vidal. Not to mention Mike Newell has positively no flair with the parkour action sequences of Dastan leaping from rooftop to rooftop.

4. Max Payne (2008)- Mark Wahlberg was in a slump when this fiasco came out and if he continued to make films like this rightfully so. The game itself is a hard-boiled detective story with film noir elements. The movie attempts to capture that Phillip Marlowe-Elmore Leonard rhythm but flails by reducing the slow-motion into belabored John Woo tributes. And along with being at the coattails of trends, the film is desaturated with the monochrome of Sin City which utilized in a brilliantly vivid stylization. By contrast, Max Payne looked drab, dank and murky.

3. Resident Evil (2002)- While the opening 20 minutes glisten at what George A. Romero could’ve done with the slow-burn suspense of Alice’s (Milla Jovovich) amnesia fugue state, the film quickly capsizes into schlocky nonsense. Hack director and spouse of the star, Paul W.S. Anderson, plagiarizes pages from the Matrix playbook with bullet-time slow-motion acrobatics (the vivisecting-ray scene is particularly moronic). It’s also oddly cruel for Alice to pummel a suffering canine which is rabid from the T-virus.

2. Final Fantasy: The Spirits Within (2001)- Surely the film’s CGI is dated by today’s lofty standards (Alec Baldwin’s character is a less photorealistic, cleft-chinned rendition of Ben Affleck) but it was a visual pioneer in the early 2000’s. To streamline the ethos of Final Fantasy into a coherent narrative is no small feat and the rendering farm has yielded some breathtaking visions of a post-apocalyptic landscape. The uncanny-valley effect might wither the human characters but it will remain a milestone in the segue to a special-effects-driven cinema.

1. Silent Hill (2006)- Without a shadow of a doubt, Silent Hill is the prominent apex of the adaptations. Christophe Gans clearly deciphers the appeal of the Konami game – an oppressively spine-tingling atmosphere patterned after Centralia with ash and fog engulfing the desolate town of Silent Hill. Survival horror is about isolation and Gans crafts an infernal milieu of Clive Barker oddities (the triangle menaces could be retrofitted to be Cenobites). Some of the images are quite haunting to the subconscious long after the credits roll (the cinder-like skin of the child).

We know on any given Sunday, the football will be tossed around on the NFL gridirons across America. But in other pockets of the US, people are passing the pigskin back and forth for an entirely different bloodsport. These hardcore sadomasochists are devotees of so-bad-it’s-good cinema and this weekend, they’re lining up in droves to peak behind the curtain of Tommy Wiseau’s infamously abominable, yet eminently quotable brainchild The Room through the colander of James Franco’s fictionalized making-of The Disaster Artist.

The reason The Room is so renowned is based on the inflated self-aggrandizement and utter ineptitude behind it. Justice League was atrocious but, in a very corporate, conventionally homogenized fashion. The Room is a unicorn of awfulness. It did provoke a thought on what other productions I’d love to see the behind-the-scenes contretemps of. Here are my top 3…

3. Cruising (1980)

It was picketed and boycotted for being a highly derogatory look at the homosexual subculture in NY. It has an inexplicable scene where a man in a jock strap sauntering into a room and punching Al Pacino for no discernible reason. I’d love to see how William Friedkin supposedly researched the skid-row atmosphere of the film and why he edited in such a way that homosexuals were seen as predatory and murderous. How was the mafia involved in the pre-production? How did someone of Pacino’s stature after Godfather 1 and 2 become intrigued by such a contemptuous project? Also, how could they get any salvageable audio with all the dissenting gay groups harassing them during the shoot? Ironically, James Franco released a 40-minute short called Interior. Leather Bar. which speculates on the errant footage from the movie.

2. Heaven’s Gate (1980)

How many films can claim that not only did they squandered a record budget of 44 million dollars, bankrupted a company and put a moratorium on the New Hollywood Era of directors as auteurs? Precisely. Only one. And that film is Heaven’s Gate which, depending on which cut you see, is either a mangled, choppy oater on a lavish scale or a prolonged, infrequently brilliant western on an obscene scale. Apparently, not only was Michael Cimino drunk from his breakthrough on The Deer Hunter, but the conditions were dangerous with horses being injured during the set pieces and the production running far afield over budget and schedule. During the downtime, John Hurt went and filmed The Elephant Man. Was there any studio head who didn’t intervene beforehand? I’d love to see the inverse of what we all see now where filmmakers are puppets for the industry instead of the other way around. Imagine a film about a director who is dictating the orders to the studio. Could be an Outer Limits episode.

1. The Day the Clown Cried (1972)

Undoubtedly, someone will make a biopic on the recently deceased genius Jerry Lewis but, if they want to eschew the cradle-to-the-grave template of these hatchet jobs, they should focus on the film that’s been hidden in Jerry’s vault for nearly 40 years. A smattering of celebrities have been given the seal of approval to see it but the public has only gotten a sampling of the final product when B-roll footage surfaced last year. From the premise, it was clear that the percodan-hazy mindset of Jerry contributed to his vision of a misguided plot in which he plays a clown that entertains the children before they’re escorted in the gas chambers of World War II. Like many films which go awry due to egotism, Jerry’s name is splattered all over the credits and he was reported to be a megalomaniac tyrant on the set. The best unintentionally risible movies are the most earnest and if it’s true that Jerry thought this would a monument to the holocaust that would receive copious award nominations, his blind passion must be something to gaze upon.

Their work takes the shape of movies that are supposed to offer an alternative to modern, super-evil, cinema. But instead, they are feel-good piles of moralising, pseudo-religious, behavioural correction, created by a bunch of thieving cunts and pan-handlers. They appear to have a thing or two for telling you how to behave, right after begging for your change. They excel at only one of these activities.

In the menus of presumably all Feature Films For Families appears a TON of additional material in the form of videos, trailers, things to read, and of course, things to purchase. There is also a man who says the following…

“We produce and distribute uplifting and entertaining motion pictures that are suitable for all ages, and strengthen positive values while containing no profanity, vulgarity, sexual content, or graphic violence.”

So there’s no guns or ass?

Rigoletto

No, but there is gang violence

Rigoletto is a film version of the classic Giuseppe Verdi opera that I know absolutely nothing about. That said, I am very sure that certain things were lost in its translation to film, such as not being a cringe-worthy load of old wank.

As Rigoletto began, I let out a scream, mostly because I was afraid of being bullied by a musical in to appreciating spontaneous chorus lines. Not that I have a thing against musicals, but any film that has on its cover a (no shit) list of questions to discuss with your children once the movie is finished, will have me on the back foot. So combine that with the threat of song at any moment and yeh, I’m on edge.

Disappointing films for disappointed families

As the story begins, there’s lots of “Once upon a time” crap and fable nonsense, but no singing (yet) which I am grateful for. A car from the twenties appears, as well as a man in modern clothing, so I assume things are set in a non-committal ‘the past’.

I’m immediately agitated by the quality of the visuals, as they are honestly exceptional. The people who actually made the flesh and bones of this movie were highly skilled in the art, and no I’m not kidding. Everything from sound design to editing is legitimately excellent, which forces from me some unwelcome respect, and yet more soul-searching for what exactly I am doing watching this at 3 AM.

We are introduced to a little girl, who wants to win big at the singing competition. Good for her.

The first song of the movie starts, but it would seem I bought a defective DVD and the movie skipped a few minutes.

The little girl loses big at the singing competition, which she takes sorely.

The hate is swelling in you now

As the scene changes, the following line was written by someone who needs two weeks until payday’s worth of ramen noodles poured down their throats.

“Being poor makes people do things they shouldn’t do.”

Oh really?

Well, as a relatively comfortable, emotionally entitled, first-world poor person, and on behalf of those who are way worse off than me, I would like to tell that scriptwriter to go and fuck the nearest cat.

And I should also point out to Ms Rand there that being just one rung above abject poverty allows for people to…donate…to Features Films For Families (more on that later), so eat your own fucking logic once you’re done with those noodles, you dick.

Already, the ever-so enlightened, and very gentle looking down the nose-iness of Rigoletto was beginning to make an enemy of me, and Dr Condescension up there did not help matters with his class warfare and sneering attitude towards the financially underwhelmed. So it would be safe to say, at this point anyway (which was five minutes in to the film), that Rigoletto was having not quite the intended effect.

As things continue we see some children taunting a pig, which doesn’t go down well with the pigs husband.

“Them pigs is like family to me.”

And yes, everything is dungarees and doilies (the past).

The bucktooth pig-fancier, who lives in a literal shed, almost vomits in to a scarf when he finds out a small black child ate his favourite pig for Christmas. During my confusion, I realise it’s 20 minutes in and I have yet to feel good about myself, or be behaviourally corrected.

The mother of the girl from earlier, who has just been evicted from her house, visits her landlord, and has it explicitly implied by the landlord’s butler that if she walks past a certain carpet she will be killed.

She finds herself in the company of a disfigured, Tommy Wiseau vampire…

Complete with air of mystery…oooohh!

…who then tries to solicit sex from her under-age daughter, in exchange for her not becoming homeless.

It’s all very Dickensian.

She says no, but the daughter herself decides otherwise. The girl arrives at the landlord’s house, and swelling, Disney-like music accompanies the first throws of child slavery. This scene plays in slow-motion to emphasise how stupid it is.

STRANGER DANGER!

Plenty of “Ahhhhh!” choir music plays, as the little girl looks with wonder upon her new home (creepy prison).

All the while Tommy looks upon her in a very normal way

But before I can confirm that Tommy Wiseau’s intentions are indeed disgusting, the DVD skips a massively inconvenient chunk of the movie.

What a shame.

What I do catch though is the little girl eavesdropping on Tommy and a singer who is singing and…

It skips again.

I now learn that Tommy Wiseau is a singing teacher, and I get to see something to do with friendship, and also some drama (girl falls down a waterfall), before girl goes on to win the state singing finals. Hooray!

Except Tommy Wiseau is beaten to death by the townspeople, and I realise that if I hadn’t have…bought a defective DVD, I would probably be crying.

No I’m actually serious, Tommy Wiseau really was beaten to death by a gang of otherwise polite and courtly towns-folk, and even though I missed most of the movie due to pressing fast-forward, this was actually a very emotional way to round off a movie about a disfigured freak and his twelve-year-old girlfriend.

The End.

But what about the Parents Guide for Family Discussion?

I think it would be very disingenuous of me to take the time to skip through…I mean, watch…the movie and not play along with the stupid parents guide business. So these are my answers to it’s thoughtful questions.

• Q1: Oh come on. Have you ever met Ribaldi? He’s a mutant who’s favourite hobby is scaring the shit out of people and hating everyone. What did you expect?

• Q2: I scream, disfigure my own face, and then spend the rest of my life playing the piano.

• Q3: As everyone knows, if you soften your heart, you might get a decent tip (and molested)

• Q4: They attacked a monster because that’s what townspeople are for. And yes, I’ve jumped to my own wrong conclusions, ABOUT THIS FUCKING FILM.

________________________

Horse Crazy

I’ll make this quick, which should be easy enough to do considering that this DVD was also…defective…and seemed to skip all the boring bits.

Horse Crazy is a sickeningly heart-warming tale about a trio of kids who are so horny for horses that they repeatedly risk their lives in search of adventure. And horses.

An average Joe 12 year old falls in love with a fake cowboy child…

Pictured: A recalcitrant little fucker

…who then elopes with him and his sister, to find horses.

Meanwhile, two bad-guy horse rustlers decide to rustle a horse. I imagine that the reason they are willing to waste their time on something so painfully retarded is because the economy in modern day America is clearly fucked, and this thrilling heist has more chance of a payout than social security benefit fraud.

But then again, the brainy one looks like this so maybe the economy’s just fine

Despite the horse rustlers evident learning disorders, they successfully make off with a horse. However, our intrepid school children end up embroiled in all things shenanigan, with all the usual running, chasing, hiding, kidnapping, rescuing, and horses.

Do you remember your first orgasm?

Was it to a horse?

Theirs was!

However, the details of how and why these hijinks take place are a little vague, as my DVD kept…you get the picture.

I am absolutely certain though, that this movie contained at least one horse

So, some very gentle drama happens, as does mild chasing sequences.

Eventually, the kids outwit the bad guys, but not before some even milder to-ing and fro-ing, and of course, the laying of booby-traps.

They predictably win the day and ride off in to the sunset, and I learn that horse rustling is bad, and being good is good.

And that horses couldn’t give a shit about your carefully framed shot

The also end.

But what about the Parents Guide for Family Discussion?

Oh for God sake. Fine.

• Q1: Because falling in love with a pretend cowboy-child is an important step in every young boy’s life, and your parents are there to ensure you are locked in a cupboard with copies of Playboy until you are fixed.

• Q 2:Nothing. It worked for him!

• Q3: You’re basically asking why food and water are important. Seriously?

• Q4: Oh fuck off.

So what’s the deal here, Feature Films For Families?

When realising that I had just added another Feature Film For Families movie to The Collection, I became immediately suspicious of them as a production studio. They just seemed far too clean-cut a bunch of moralists to not have some severe and abundant skeletons in their closets, or torsos under the patio.

Were my suspicions correct?

Well, as I have already kind of spoiled by calling them swindlers, FFFF have a bit of a reputation.

Telemarketing and fraud!

Or as someone on the interwebs referred to the practice…Telemormonism, which is amazing.

So, according to the always accurate Wikipedia, the Fuhrer of Feature Films For Families, a certain Forrest S Baker III, pictured here…

Back away slowly

…has been a bit of a naughty boy it would seem, and has employed some, shall we say, mildly immoral tactics when promoting and funding his films.

Here’s an idea..!

Maybe Forrest S. Baker III should produce a movie about a bunch of adventurous school-kids, and how they all foil the evil schemes of an unscrupulous film studio, prone to run-in’s with the Federal Trade Commission and the massive fines then imposed, and then watch that film repeatedly until the word ‘irony’ gives him nightmares.

Yes, that’s right, FFFF have been up to no good and, through many lawsuits and prosecutions, were revealed to have marketed their films in ways that aren’t entirely kosher, namely cold-calling people on an industrial scale, and essentially attempting to swindle money out of anyone that would answer their phone.

And no, the ends do NOT justify the means

Mr The Third himself has also been seen squirming on the pointy end of some entirely uncorroborated and probably false rumours concerning mistresses and a porn addiction. Although he would never have needed to worry about being such a hypocritical shithead if he had made movies based around these things instead of horses and singing, as I would have funded those movies myself.

But is any of this surprising when he has creepy sex-enthusiast written all over his face?

Or possibly on one of his sweaters?

Also, his hair looks like it’s magnetic, or attached by a Lego stud.

He also used the word..

“…expescially…”

…and he has that general demeanour and vocal creepiness that convince me he is imagining his auto-cue is wearing crotchless panties, or that the camera-woman is a horse.

I’m being mean.

Anyway…

Yes, he spent far too much of his time haranguing pensioners and sifting money from their confused brains, but lets get real here. We’ve all definitely heard of far more underhanded methods that producers have employed to fund their films, right? So maybe we should cut him some slack. Okay, maybe not. But things could be worse.

He did at one point mention “The Great Teacher” during his funding pitch in the special features, which is code for Jesus or God, or both, but I am happy to reveal that his obvious bible-love does not feature in his films. Which is good for him, because it would otherwise have just added more heavy objects in to his inflatable arm-bands, and he would have sunk even further in to the swamp of hypocrisy he splashes around in.

Which only further convinces me that despite his dodgy promotional methods, and probably untrue rumours that I unfairly pounced upon for this review, he honestly wants to provide the service he claims to want to provide. Namely, making films that aren’t full of sordid muck, and are instead, beacons of wholesomeness.

And plush toys

And after watching (some of) two of his films, I honestly can’t help but be slightly won over by his movies. They really are all good, clean, well made, safe films, and would work just fine as movies a whole family could use to morally correct each other.

Except, instead of referring to what he makes as ‘movies’, he calls them ‘stories on film’, which is so fucking stupid that it reminds me that if the day should ever come when he pulls his head out of his ass, he might just realise he’d be better placed producing snuff movies for the Catholic Church.

At least there’ll be plenty of funding.

Score: 4/10

-Defector-

Don’t forget to stop by www.badmovie-badreview.com and check out even more Bad Movies and Bad Reviews!

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Bad Santa 2 recently invaded the cineplex recently and rightfully so, it tanked and perhaps sullied the coal-black memories of its funnier 2003 ancestor. Many rationales can be attributed to its downfall: the widening gap between films, the behind-the-scenes change of regime how misconstrued why the original was a gangbusters hit in the first place, the desperation of the main actor (Billy Bob Thornton) to be an A-list headliner of a lucrative film. In this article, we will decrypt several other examples of why comedies cannot be serialized and what the quintessential problem is…

Worst examples

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lGXHVlEklgQ

Dumb and Dumber To

Much like Billy Bob, Jim Carrey’s staying power is not at his 90’s zenith. He staunchly avoided follow-ups to his blockbusters like Bruce Almighty, The Mask and Liar, Liar. Despite the advanced 20 years, Carrey and Jeff Daniels still look spry. However, another blackmail plot and cross-country misadventure is just a recycled template for the film. The biggest hurtle is how Harry and Lloyd have regressed from guileless imbeciles to malicious, misogynistic pricks (ex. Yelling “show your tits” during a science exhibit).

Arthur 2: On The Rocks

It seems downright cruel for the filmmakers to completely expunge the progress that Arthur has made. Now, he is disgraced and penniless. Why would Susan Johnson’s father still harbor a grudge? For high-concept melodrama of course. To replace John Guilgud with an inferior butler is also insulting. Lastly, any comedy which introduces children or adoption into the fold is cloying too hard to wrench unwarranted tears.

Beverly Hills Cop III

At this point, Eddie Murphy was no longer enamored with farce and his initiative was to be the next Sidney Poitier or Denzel Washington. He recruited John Landis who was currently feuding with. They clashed incessantly over how stilted and poker-faced Axel Foley has become. He was no longer the prankster shoving bananas in tail pipes. He was a gun-toting, avenging stuntman.

Best examples

Neighbors 2: Sorority Rising

People might be incredulous about how this is one of the scarce examples of a comedy sequel being infinitely superlative but never demonetize the innovation of Seth Rogen and Evan Goldberg. Instead of a labored set-up, Nicholas Stoller lobs jokes at an alarmingly fast velocity and most of them are inventively hilarious. The Kappa Nu crew are quite an endearing bunch of characters and their chemistry is immaculate. A rally where the protagonists are incognito is uproariously anarchic. The think-tank refused to be lackadaisical with the rivalry of the first film and they’ve crafted a loopy overachiever.

The Hangover: Part III

If they reiterated another blackout from drunken debauchery, people would’ve been irate. Now, when they dissociated themselves from the formula, people loath the new, crime-drama direction. For me personally, I loved the audacious detour, Todd Phillips’ flinty, widescreen direction and John Goodman is a menacing foe. The decapitation of a giraffe is politically incorrect but also quite rib-tickling.

22 Jump Street

I wasn’t a fan of 21 Jump Street because it was a case of profanity and scatological references overriding any concrete humor. On the other hand, the next chapter deconstructed the meta idea of how a sequel just “does the same thing” over again. Channing Tatum is now in his meathead-riffing comfort zone and the film brilliantly lampoons the homoerotic undertones of the main duo.

This article is the second part of castordurden’s tribute to Gene Wilder. Click here for part one!

The Frisco Kid (1979)- A pattern has started to emerge from this litany of under-the-radar Gene Wilder films. Almost consistently each one begins with a location and time stamp. In other words, most are period pieces which shows that Wilder was always looking to centuries past for inspiration. In this gingerly, but toothless Jewish western, it’s American during the Gold Rush and he is saddled alongside the lightsaber-gunslinging Harrison Ford whose second billing is quite hysterical in hindsight. Of the Polish rabbis, Wilder is the pratfalling Jerry Lewis of the group. Firstly, Wilder speaks like remarkably Jackie Mason and he is very amiable and congenial as the “schmendrick”. One of his most heartfelt performances in my opinion and it’s genuinely unsettling when his belongings and talis are plundered by three matchstick men. Instead of being hopelessly harebrained, Avram (Wilder) is just naive in his belief of mankind’s inherent goodness. Admirably Robert Aldrich doesn’t bludgeon us with addlepated disrespect for the Jewish religion.

Notwithstanding that plus, too many episodes revolve around Avram’s fish-out-of-water antics with the button being Semitic stereotypes like his incessant use of “oy” or his observance of the Shabbat. As his larcenous cross-country companion, Ford blazes some chummy chemistry with Wilder. It’s a minor, quaintly appetizing, but simplistically prolonged comedy that it is partially reliant on culture shock for its guffaws. The climactic shootout on the California shoreline is very striking and Wilder’s compunction over the violence is plaintive.

Rating: 2.75 out of 5 stars

The Woman in Red (1984)- Probably Wilder’s most financially lucrative cruise behind the camera, The Woman in Red is an edgy, very funny riff on Marilyn Monroe’s The Seven-Year Itch (Kelly LeBrock even pays homage to the indelible skirt-lifting scene) with a Stevie Wonder soundtrack of pop singles. With a more adept hand at comical misunderstandings (ex. Wilder’s outburst over another employee’s perceived sexual innuendos is instantly gut-busting as is Gilda Radner’s riotously maladjusted role as the cuckolded Ms. Milner), Wilder finally attains reputable status as a director with a lightness of touch. As his curvaceous eye candy, LeBrock is definitely a buxom sexpot. In a stentorian piece of sideplot monkeyshines, Charles Grodin feigns being blind to outrageously side-splitting effect.

Wilder has never been this odiously conniving and his rabid behavior of juggling his married life with his extramural appetites is vintage Blake Edwards. The height of French-boudoir-farce merriment is a parking-brake accident when Teddy (Wilder) fabricates a heart attack in order to hide from Milner. Instead of seeing the calamity, Wilder chooses to affix the camera on Radner’s insolent expression with the Looney Tunes sound F/X of collisions in the background. Naturally, Wilder is somewhat craven with the coitus-interruptus ending where Teddy wavers at his hotel rendezvous. He does spare us a pat reconciliation between Teddy and his alienated wife. As male menopause goes though, The Woman in Red is an underrated entry on the topic and Wilder’s sole, effectively winsome directorial outing.

Rating: 3.25 out of 5 stars

The World’s Greatest Lover (1977)- In a time capsule of the silent-film era, this second picture under Wilder’s directorial supervision is uncannily similar to Mel Brooks’ triumphantly genius satire Silent Movie from 1976. The first scene is fundamentally plagiarized from the megalomaniac Sid Caesar studio head in that aforementioned film. The cardinal differences are the audio track, Dom Deluise is an unfunny and hammy comedian and it is a mirthless carbon copy in this version. Overweening on the speed-ramping technique, the physical comedy of Rudy Hickman’s (Wilder) arm engulfed in a bakery assembly-line is vapid sans the requisite symmetry and clockwork timing. The screeching-cat effect without a subversion? Really?

In opposition to the leaden direction, Wilder sporadically registers a bull’s-eye such as Rudy’s nuzzling bluff of a male passenger on a train. His full commitment to daffiness is what favorably distinguishes it. Other than brief humdingers, most of the payoffs are telegraphed far in advance without a twist like when Rudy vociferates that he will be a star because he is “unique” to suddenly glimpse a platform of identical suits. Likewise, the Sex by Numbers booklet is a plodding sketch that dawdles on forever and the banter during it won’t be surpassing Abbott and Costello anytime soon. The plot about a ne’er-do-well’s misadventures to be the next Rudolph Valentino is just a clothesline for tin-ear ripostes (Annie (an auspiciously low-key Carol Kane) is mistaken for a prostitute). Worst of all, the final audition for the Rainbow Studios picture poses no stakes and by that juncture, we are praying for the curtain call. It’s an arbitrary, dunderheaded enterprise and it will hopefully be an evanescent footnote in Wilder’s romanticism of 1920’s Hollywood. Keep your hobbies to yourself.

Rating: 1.5 out of 5 stars

At the ripe age of 83, our intrepid chocolatier and curly-haired jester Gene Wilder passed through the factory gates. In his wake, he left us a trove of classics to cherish for years to come. From his Mel Brooks collaborations (‘Blazing Saddlers’, ‘The Producers’ and ‘Young Frankenstein’) to his teaming with Richard Pryor (‘Stir Crazy’ and ‘Silver Streak’), Wilder’s work will live on for eons. However, between the highs, Wilder also carve out a few other movies that went relatively unnoticed. In this article, I’ll focus on some lesser-popularized titles.

The Adventure of Sherlock Holmes’ Smarter Brother (1975)– For his slipshod directorial debut, Wilder wove this comedic yarn about the black sheep of the deductive-reasoning family. Unlike Mel Brooks’ impeccable timing with a sight gag, Wilder and his DP mostly stage the visual punchlines with stagnation. Wilder’s fencing with a bicycle-operated clown contraption is an overcranked Benny Hill joke without the proper spatial blocking. Another fiasco of silliness is Marty Feldman’s tic of repeating himself until he is slapped. In theory and on paper, it may have been rib-tickling but in Wilder’s hands, it falls flat.

He also fashions other tasteless jokes about a professor with Tourette’s. Laugh reflexes are subjective but even random humor must either be grounded or nourished into some oddball rationality. In the title role, Wilder basically barks like a hyena and flaunts his intellectual arrogance like a badge of honor. He’s honestly quite unappealing. For someone who abhorred lavatorial humor, Wilder definitely enjoys weakly bawdy Freudian slips (“I saw your winkle on the door. Uh, I mean shingle.”). Since he is a fan of musicals, characters will do impromptu song-and-dance numbers without rhyme or reason. Overall, a pathetically unfunny, mercurial beginning for Wilder’s behind-the-monitor career.

Rating: 1.25 out of 5 stars

Hanky Panky (1982)– After their ribaldly hilarious hit ‘Stir Crazy’, director Sidney Poitier and Gene Wilder unraveled a new project for each other which also paired Wilder with his vaudevillian wife at the time, SNL’s Gilda Radner (although she doesn’t appear until 35 minutes in). It begins like a Hitchcockian murder mystery with a man awakening with a blood-dampened shirt and hanging himself. The scene itself is sloppily directed with no accentuating punch to the suicide. A bit disconcerting after Poitier successfully torqued the rodeo escape in ‘Stir Crazy’ for maximum suspense. Luckily, he rebounds back quickly. Next Robert Prosky is poisoned with two tainted olives in his martini. It’s actually a nifty switcheroo.

One thing that is refreshing is to see Wilder as a philandering womanizer when he brazenly coaxes Kathleen Quinlan into a midday one-night stand at his place upon meeting her in a cab. It’s an antipodal change-of-pace for the hopeless romantic Wilder to be the Cary Grant of this. With this being a Dashell Hammond-conspiracy send-up, it’s a given that the MacGuffin is shrouded in convoluted plotting. According to the press notes, Radner’s role was intended for Pryor until he balked. Frankly, this script was probably developed as a wickedly fun thriller until it was diluted into a companion piece with Wilder’s genre mash-up ‘Silver Streak’. The comedy routinely undermines the illuminait potboiler elements (ex. It broaches the nadir of lethargic rimshots when Wilder must masquerade as a magician and later he is clad in a woman’s dress). Nevertheless, it’s not an abject failure with the dalliance between Wilder and Radner being quite touching.

Rating: 2.5 out of 5 stars

Haunted Honeymoon (1986)- By co-scripting with his production designer, Wilder basically had a viable storyboard blueprint before he began principal photography. Kudos to the carpentry and set dressing that went into the Gothic manor of the set pieces. With a breaking-the-fourth-wall murder victim, Wilder already shows a noncommittal attitude to Thalian construction. Instead of the slain servant repeatedly calling back the audience for another piece of information or his last dying words, Wilder abandons the conceit after one pass. Later on, he overindulges in an already fetid skit about a hard-of-hearing butler. Wilder is lampooning the radio chillers of the 40’s but his directorial prowess is tactless and the satire of the in-studio thunder-and-lightning sound effects was much funnier in Frasier’s Ham Radio episode.

The plot is a nonsensical one-joke excuse to scare Larry Abbot (Wilder) to death in order to solve his premarital jitters. The middling, trite jokes are spaced out and performed at a snail’s pace. While he is drowning in drag shtick, Dom DeLuise is not the scene-stealer of the film; that honor goes to a Jonathan Pryce showing an uncommon knack for sharp verbal comedy about his state of poverty. Wilder perfectly casts himself as a perpetual coward who scales the wall when he sees snakes or shadows. His pantomime with the butler’s legs as his own is a pretty priceless screwball sketch though. While I haven’t seen ‘The Woman in Red’ or ‘The World’s Greatest Lover’, I think it’s safe to assume that Wilder should’ve wisely abdicated auteur duties to someone else or chosen more amusing projects.

Rating: 2 out of 5 stars

Another You (1991)- I recall seeing this final congress of Richard Pryor and Gene Wilder in the early 90’s on a cable station where its R-rating was heavily censored. Therefore, I thought watching the unabridged version might mitigate the film’s edited stench. Well, the blue language is reinstated but the desperation remains in this mistaken-identity dud. By sheer aptitude, Pryor’s silver-tongued timing occasionally shines through his onslaught of multiple sclerosis symptoms. Vulgarity is gutter poetry coming from him (I surrendered a laugh when he berated a Frankenstein impersonator as a “big, green fuck.”). On the other hand, it is also harrowing to look at him and see a withered, gaunt frame and pain emitting from his eyes.

Garnering the most chuckles is Kevin Pollak who absolutely nails Dudley Moore’s Arthur, Woody Allen and Peter Falk impressions. Pryor does seem supremely irascible around Wilder’s pathological-liar motormouth and it translates directly to the audience since his garrulous eagerness is tiresome. His outrageous stories about Buckingham and a terrorist plane takeover aren’t remotely uproarious. (I surrendered a laugh when he berated a Frankenstein impersonator as a “big, green fuck.”) Yet Mercedes Ruehl is a coquettish foil for Wilder. Weirdly enough despite appearing in three films prior to this, based on their nonexistent chemistry here, Wilder and Pryor seem more adversarial than friendly in this. This also marked Wilder’s last theatrical starring role. A bitter, sour end to his filmography.

Rating: 1.5 out of 5 stars

Comic books are a wonderful medium where dreams, fears, fantasies and desires are brought to life through illustrations and words. From superhero adventures and nightmarish tales, to hardboiled crime stories and existential slices of life, comics have enjoyed a large variety of stories through the ages, which have extended to the cinematic format.

Batman: The Movie (1966)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=whgBnumr3QQ

The brainchild of producer William Dozier, combined with the beautiful self-awareness of screenwriter Lorenzo Semple Jr., make Batman: the movie at once a faithful translation and a witty send-up of the source material; what were once solo adventures about a dark knight (created by Bill Finger and artist Bob Kane) on a crusade against the crime that plagued Gotham City, descended into juvenile territory by replacing the gothic vigilante’s broody persona with a cheery disposition, and partnering him with a child sidekick named Robin.

In the film, the Bright Knight (Adam West) and the Boy Wonder (Burt Ward), both of whom were orphaned by acts of crime, would go on to face the United Underworld: four members of their most flamboyant rogues gallery. The clown prince of crime, The Joker (Cesar Romero), the waddling avian trickster, The Penguin (Burgess Meredith), the slinky feline fatale, Catwoman (Lee Meriwether), and the obsessive clue master, the Riddler (Frank Gorshin). Together they formulate a crazy, over-top-plan plan that involves holding members of the United World Security Council hostage for a handsome ransom with a dehydrating weapon. The narrative plays out as an absurd, adventure story and a Cold War satire.

Semple Jr., would scribe ‘70s paranoid thriller The Parallax View, but not before injecting a dose of paranoia into the easily frazzled and helpless populace of Gotham. With a film that pokes fun at the global tension of the time, and having its titular hero physically carrying a (possibly symbolic) bomb away from a lair of denizens, it ends on a wonderfully bittersweet notion, where viewers will be left wondering whether there was any need for a Batman.

Superman (1978)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XWHyvubVdPA

One of America’s most beloved icons in comics made his cinematic debut in 1941, in the Fleischer studio’s animated short. Superman was damn near invincible, and there was no challenge he could not overcome. He was an admirable figure, but not necessarily relatable…not until Richard Donner undertook the ambitious task of bringing genuine empathy to the Man of Steel.

The character, as originally envisioned by creators Joe Shuster and Jerry Siegel, was a force for good, to inspire others to fight against corruption and oppression, and to reach for the highest potential, and if possible, beyond the furthest of stars.

Being the last son from the destroyed planet of Krypton, the alien being was sent to earth by his scientist father’s own will, and would become a god among men. Raised by goodhearted farmers in Smallville, Kansas, and losing his adoptive father as a teenager, he would grow up to be Clark Kent (Christopher Reeve), journalist for the Daily Planet in Metropolis, and as Superman, use his powers to protect mankind. He falls in love, battles a mastermind with a messiah complex, and questions his existence.

The film is as earnest and sincere as Christopher Reeve’s heartfelt performance; it believes in its world and explores its themes with great desire, becoming a romantic fantasy, a religious drama, a witty piece of classic mythology and a good-humored comedy. With Clark balancing his dual identity in part so that he does not interfere too much with humanity’s own journey, he battles predestination with his own free will, and that, is what makes him more human than ever.

Batman and Batman Returns (1989/1992)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HlsM2_8u_mk

With Neal Adams & Denny O’Neill returning a zany superhero to his gothic roots in the ‘70s, and Frank Miller’s operatic The Dark Knight Returns series in the zeitgeist, the Batman received a more serious treatment in the ‘80s.

With the very black-humoured sensibility of Beetlejuice director Tim Burton, the creative team would focus on the dark, fetishistic and surreal side of Batman’s world from the comics and its many influences, including German expressionism and noir crime films (with art director Anton Furst’s dystopian, timeless vision and composer Danny Elfman’s brooding, melancholic score). Batman (1989) saw orphaned millionaire playboy Bruce Wayne (Michael Keaton), along with his surrogate father, Alfred Pennyworth, living in an isolated mansion, where his inner demons dwelled and manifested into the personal crusade of the Batman. Wayne would descend to the bat-infested caves beneath the manor, and don the mantle of the inhabiting creatures, thus transforming into the avenger of the night.

In both this film and the 1992 sequel, Batman Returns, the nightmarish world embraces its eccentricities, and does not paint the Batman as a typical hero; he is a reluctant vigilante who battles evildoers to feed his internal pain. He encounters very twisted reflections of his persona in the forms of: The Joker, a scarred gangster who transforms into a reckless clown hell-bent on bringing madness and murder to Gotham; The Penguin, a disfigured orphan abandoned by his elitist parents, raised by circus freaks and penguins, only to seek power, respect and revenge; and Catwoman, a once meek secretary, practically murdered by her corrupt employer, Max Schreck, adopts the persona of a vengeful feline dominatrix, clad in stitched-up leather costume that creates a feminist icon not unlike Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein monster.

The protagonist proves to be just as damaged as his antagonists, and with a bizarre variety of aesthetics, props and set pieces, Gotham city challenges the real world to name another town that has been tormented by both an anarchistic freak show and  an army of penguins with missiles strapped to their backs.

Dredd (2012)

“I am the Law.” In any ordinary situation, that may be viewed as hyperbolic.

Created by John Wagner and Carlos Ezquerra for British comics publication 2000 AD in 1977, Judge Dredd was not just a no-nonsense, heavy-duty cop in the American dystopia of Mega-City One; he was the faceless entity that embodied every extreme measure taken in law and politics, andwas a triple threat package of judge, jury & executioner.

Dredd is an adrenaline-fueled action film, an exaggerated police procedural and a dark satire. Anderson (Olivia Thirlby), an idealistic new recruit with telepathic abilities, joins Dredd (Karl Urban) on her first day of the job, where they investigate the deaths of three drug dealers at the Peach Trees Complex. There, they are locked in and wanted by Ma-Ma Madrigal (Lena Headey), a prostitute abused into becoming a sadistic man-hating gang leader.

As monstrous as Ma-Ma and the rest of the criminals can be, Alex Garland’s writing cleverly and subtly focuses (through Anderson’s gaze) on the complexity of Dredd’s cold stone attitude and the inner demons he represses; he is not a saint, and he does not seem to care.

With a vibrant cyber-punk feel, an electric score from Paul Leonard-Morgan and a grimy sense of art direction, Dredd is unforgiving and unapologetic in exploiting its protagonist’s brand of justice, and does not count on its viewers to agree with it.

Captain America: The First Avenger and Captain America: The Winter Soldier (2011/ 2014)

Created by Joe Simon and Jack Kirby during the Second World War, Steve Rogers was a determined, good-natured patriot, but ultimately, a physically weak being unqualified for battle. Admired for his noble attributes, he is selected for a “super soldier” program, which transforms his frail visage into a mythical marvel, enhancing his strength, stamina and agility. Soon, he is shipped out fighting the Nazis, and becoming the most valuable weapon and symbol of American propaganda.

Joe Johnston, who directed the pulpy The Rocketeer, brings the same sensibility to The First Avenger, and damn near nails it. This film brings the vintage eight-page comic story to life, and is infatuated with its period setting, and the aesthetics and mythology that accompany it. Steve Rogers (Chris Evans) is a charismatic, and likeable personality, with an idealistic & naïve sense of right & wrong that complements the romanticism of that era. Rogers loses the chance to pursue a solid romance, and return to a normal life of post-war accomplishments, after he sacrifices himself while submerging a weaponized airship into the ocean, preserving him in a deep cryogenic sleep.

After a seventy-year icy slumber, the Captain awakens to see the world around him is much more complicated, filled where the good and the bad are coated with shades of gray. In The Winter Soldier he experiences something worse than the Cold War he missed out on, which is, the enemy at home. With all the battles, conflicts and treachery Rogers comes face to face with, its refreshing to see him able to adapt and re-assess his ways of thinking in a weird new world, while maintaining his well-preserved humanity and principles. Like Superman and Uncle Sam, he is a character that finds nothing funny about truth, justice and the American way, and becomes more than an ancient tool of patriotism.

Ghost World (2001)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4WmCBRkWJ54

What is refreshing about the cynicism of Ghost World’s protagonist, Enid (Thora Birch), is that it is not a result of her noble intentions…because she has none. She is a selfish, narcissistic anti-hero who enjoys playing god with the lives of the “losers” of her world. Surely there must be a solid explanation?

With her mother absent, Enid is only cared for by her father (Bob Balaban), who frankly sees more interested in his own life, especially when it comes to the romance department. She only has one true friend, Rebecca (Scarlett Johansson), who share’s Enid’s cynicism but simultaneously tries to mature and become more accessible to society.  She interacts with a medley of quirky characters on a daily basis, and never treats them with anything short of contempt and sarcasm. That is until she meets Seymour (Steve Buscemi), a timid, middle-aged man who has eclectic hobbies & interests, but more importantly, serves as a cypher of sorts for Enid, as she sees a little of herself in this lonely being. By changing an aspect in Seymour’s life, Enid gets to be a puppeteer, but in the process allows her defense mechanism of her mean-spirited, rebellious teenaged self to weaken, and expose her humanity.

Enid’s flaunts her “hipster” attitude & culture unapologetically, and her free spiritedness creates a charming painting of a film, and (while not for everyone) manages to make a beautiful slice of life and an unique “coming-of-age” tale.

American Splendor (2003)

Part autobiographical, part comic book fiction, and part documentary, American Splendor takes the time to paint an intricate and endearing portrait of the Man that inspired it.

From the get-go, Harvey Pekar, the creator of the titular comic, lets us know that he was never really interested in mainstream comic book fare (superheroes and the like), instead, always intending to write more down-to-earth stories of struggle and fidelity, and with characters that are identical to quirky personalities that he would have to deal with on a day-to-day basis.

Pekar’s life is filled with comedy, irony, passion and tragedy, which are all engulfed by a general defeatist attitude that the man never seems to shake off, even when he is winning. He is easy to empathize with, but difficult to deal and socialize with. He finds solace in other “eccentric geniuses” like underground comic book legend, Robert Crumb, who would prove to be a major inspiration for Pekar’s future work, as independent “weirdo” narratives still find their rock-stars.

The film cleverly blends its elements of fiction and non-fiction so casually, where the actors all seem to be aware that they doing their best to tell the stories of real people who may find it difficult to find a podium to express themselves otherwise (despite the fact that Pekar was an well established comic book writer). Perhaps intentionally ironic, the man who never believed in heroes, becomes the “superhero” of his own story, but as is traditional Pekar style, a reluctant one at best.

X-men: First Class and X-men: Days of Future Past (2011/2014)

“Mutant, and proud”; whether it alludes to race issues, class hierarchy or one’s sexual orientation (among other topics), the aforementioned motto emphasizes the great sense of confidence that X-men: First Class and X-men: Days of Future Past wear ever so proudly on their shoulders.

The first film, directed and co-written by Matthew Vaughn, serves as a reboot to the muddled franchise previously established by Bryan Singer, with 2000’s X-men.  While Singer’s cinematic entry into the world of the classic Marvel comics was admirable and filled with noble intentions and meaningful themes, it lacked the confidence, energy and magic that Vaughn managed to infuse the story with over a decade later. Setting the narrative in the 1960s (when the source material was conceived), the film explores the ambitions and plights of various mutants like the socially conflicted mutant scholar, Professor Charles Xavier, to vengeful Nazi Holocaust survivor, Erik Lensherr. While their ethics and principles vary, both men combine forces to prevent an extremist mutant from bringing about Armageddon, by manipulating Cold War nations to destroy each other head-on.

Days of Future Past, sees Singer’s return to the franchise, and this time has Logan “The Wolverine”, a mutant with a dark a tortured past, sent back in time to prevent a dystopian future, where humanity and mutants’ existence are threatened by the fascistic hunters known as Sentinels.

The superhuman mythos is strong and alive in these films, and the multilayered characters of the X-men prove to be significant cyphers to minorities worldwide in that they allow them to realize their heroic abilities to make a positive impact on their world.

The Dark Knight Trilogy (2005-2012)

A rich man orphaned by crime, and dressing up as a bat to fight it, may not spell out realism, but Christopher Nolan’s saga is not concerned with that. While it feels real, this fictional world creates its own hyper-realistic environment, with recognizable and relatable imagery, coated with a brooding, gothic mood. A scene from the dark opera, Die Fledermaus plays in Batman Begins, and serves as a dark omen for the films’ protagonist, as it leads to his parents’ murder, and paves the way for his crusading antics in The Dark Knight and The Dark Knight Rises.

While honouring its source material and making use of over (at the time) sixty years of comic book mythology & storytelling, Chris and Jonathan Nolan (and David Goyer) create a rich, unique canvas, that holds nothing back in the areas of iconic ideas and operatic set pieces. The primary players of this tragedy are layered to a fault, and each one serves to be a mirror the Batman. While the world of these characters (and their individual actions) references classic mythology and some of the greatest literary sources, they also draw parallels to the world we live in with global terrorism, brutal government infiltration methods, urban crime, and historical events. Whether it is through Harvey Dent, a scarred attorney, who breaks bad with one devastating tragedy occurring after another, or Ras Al Ghul, an extremist truly dedicated to cleansing his planet from scum, or the Dark Knight himself, who may have good intentions, but fulfills them with merciless aggression, there is something one can take away from this thrilling gothic opera. Ultimately, The Dark Knight trilogy is the splitting image of its comic book source material; it just happens to be drawn differently.

Men in Black (1997)

This is a world where anyone can be an extra terrestrial; and with the guaranteed help of a device known as a neuralyzer, the special G-men, known as the “Men in Black” (or MIB) see to it that the general public are kept in the dark. However, a police officer named Jay (Will Smith), discovers the existence of alien life on his planet, and is later recruited by veteran agent of MIB named Kay (Tommy Lee Jones) to join the secret organization and abandon his old life for a new identity.

What is special about Men in Black is not limited to its great visual effects; it’s how consistently witty it manages to remain throughout the picture. It’s largely self-aware and has a lot of fun with exploring its mythology without being extremely self-referential. The film also benefits with an added dose of personality from its two leads. Jay overreacts to the majority of things that happen before him (as one might) but learns from everything he sees and remains as sharp an officer as he is established to be, while Kay is almost desensitized to strangeness that he manages to act almost monotonous and oozes confidence.

By the end of the film, Men in Black boasts the wealth of its universe and showcases the promise of exploring a galaxy’s worth of ideas and stories (even if reality does not see it the same way, given how its sequel turned out).

Ichi the Killer (2001)

Takashi Miike’s adaptation of the manga series is an ambitious and brutal rollercoaster of a ride, where operatic gangland antics and subverted superhero mythology intertwine.

The titular character (Nao Omori) is a timid, psychologically impaired, young man, who, thanks to his manipulative father, unleashes his hidden strength when he becomes furious. His actions pit two yakuza clans against one another, which bring in numerous players to the battleground, most notably, a sadomasochistic enforcer named Kakihara (Tadanobu Asano), who is merciless, and relentlessly violent. He proves to be a worthy archenemy of sort’s to Ichi’s “Superhero” iconography, with both men at opposite extremes, enforcing extreme violence on their targets.

The film is almost a perfect literal translation of the manga’s cartoonish nature, turning the source material surreal, hyper-realistic orgy of damaged individuals motivated by their perverted desires and lust for power. A little boy named Takeshi observes the kinetically charged war between the individuals up close and personal, and an earlier promise of brave and honorable role models, is a twisted fantasy, as the only heroes that exist in his world are the broken ones.

There is usually an ebb and flow to television. Maintaining a level of consistency is almost impossible. In spite of my addiction to the X-Files, not every episode is first-rate. Some episodes resemble the notorious Fly filler from Breaking Bad: padding before the next powerhouse. This is a list of a few of the worst X-Files offerings.

WORST 5 X-FILES EPISODES

1. SPACE (Season 1, Episode 9) – Ed Lautner contorts his face in embarrassing Richard III paralysis. I love that Mulder is in awe of the lionized astronaut Colonel Belt but the whole premise is beyond vague. Why is the ghost sabotaging NASA missions? Since it was 1993, it’s fathomable that the special effects would be dated but they are downright atrocious. They look like unfinished animation from Unsolved Mysteries reenactments. It was ahead of its time for claiming to discover water sources on Mars.

2. SHAPES (Season 1, Episode 18) – At this point, Scully would have to be a dunce to not conjecture that manitou or lycanthropes don’t exist when she has seen the aftermaths of two incidents where a man is shot in lieu of a Manitou. This episode also recycles the autopsy-examination-will-desecrate-the-sacred-body cliché which would easily confirm Mulder’s suspicions. The werewolf costume is threadbare and the episode doesn’t attempt to tweak the animalistic-metamorphosis trope.

3. 3 (Season 2, Episode 7) – After the dazzling two-episode arc with Duane Barry, this brazen cash-in on the Anne Rice romanticism of vampires is a soullessly retrograde misstep for the series. The mingling of biblical references with bloodsucker lore is inefficient. Mulder doesn’t anguish over the whereabouts of Scully which is puzzling after his brutal strangling of Barry in the previous episode. Without the sounding board that was Scully, Mulder just bandies his theories with nondescript agents and tosses dull puns around (“sun” for “son”).

4. FIREWALKER (Season 2, Episode 9) – In what is a liberally plagiarizing redux of Fire, this episode is languid, dunderheaded and insipid. Of course, these are the developmental pains that every show undergoes but this sabotages viewership goodwill. Once again a project leader has become unhinged and their team is being systematically killed by arcane means. A fungus creature won’t be inducing any nightmares and the result is too phallic and goofy to be scary.

5. THE BLESSING WAY (Season 3, Episode 1) – After the potential incineration of Mulder in the Season 2 finale, it’s very anticlimactic that he has somehow escaped to bury himself under a pile of rocks. The shamanic resurrection of Mulder might be the most far-fetched usage of Native American customs since On Deadly Ground. The computer chip in Scully’s neck is much more attention-seizing but the episode devotes an inordinate amount of time on the spiritual rebirth of Mulder and then the Scully subplot crumbles into drivel with Melissa’s regression-therapy involvement.