Category Archives: cult film

Setter’s ‘Spectives: The Time Has Come to Speak of ‘The Wicker Man’

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Setter Drawing for Blog 082613Halloween’s a-comin’ … and you know what that means.

Quality horror movies should be watched. Including Robin Hardy’s 1973 creepy-fest The Wicker Man.

There’s something really satisfying about this eerie film, about a policeman’s encounters with paganism on a remote Scottish isle. It’s not pure horror – there’s very little blood or gore – yet there’s plenty of atmosphere, as well as a disturbing subtext that may lead viewers to ask questions about belief and the acceptance of others’ religions. The picture features terrific performances, including that of Edward Woodward as the cop aghast at the islanders’ practices and rituals, and offers a fine, wistful musical score by Paul Giovanni. Plus, there’s a great script by Anthony Shaffer that transcends the usually ghoulish genre with insightful dialogue and vivid characterizations.

This is a cult film that spawned the awful remake of the same name with Nicholas Cage, but it’s the original that should be seen. I like to watch it every now and then when it’s on, and Halloween seems like a good time to do so … though it’s by no means the only time that’s appropriate. I’ll be looking for it with particular interest this month, however, owing to the festivities of the season, and, of course, because I haven’t seen it in a while. It definitely merits watching multiple times; if you haven’t seen it yet, I recommend it. Be prepared for some unsettling scenes that may have more impact than the graphically violent sequences that seem so prevalent in horror today, as it’s a well-crafted picture that doesn’t rely on blood to keep itself going.

All the more reason to enjoy it, right? That’s my opinion, anyway.

Skip’s Quips: Movies and What to Make of ‘Uriel Acosta’

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Blog Sketch 082813I’m afraid I’m none too knowledgeable about the world of avant-garde theater, so this post might lead anyone with more than a small understanding of the genre to look askance at me.

This past Saturday, I went to see the Target Margin Theater’s production of Uriel Acosta – I Want That Man! at The Chocolate Factory in Long Island City. What does this have to do with film? Well, the thoroughly bizarre performance – which had something to do with the life of the titular Jewish philosopher, the Yiddish play about him and all sorts of other related material – featured some very interesting video-centric content, including images of bearded men, Hebrew words and more projected onto plumes of smoke drifting upon the stage area. The performance also included a bit of curious puppeteering that was projected onto screens for the audience’s viewing pleasure. So there was a significant multimedia component.

Unfortunately, it didn’t stop the production from being rather dull and confusing – the many sequences during which the actors spoke their lines loudly and concurrently exemplified this issue. Still, the piece got me wondering about the future of cinema and how it could relate to live theater … how these media could be juxtaposed in creative ways. There’s no reason to think these are exclusive from one another, but while theater may include snippets of film, you’d be hard pressed to find movies outside of The Rocky Horror Picture Show where live performance forms an integral (albeit cosmetic) part of the experience. Perhaps we need more of the latter, though in a form where we’re not reacting to the proceedings onscreen but in accord with them. That somehow our decisions affect what happens in the movie.

That may sound like a futuristic idea, but it’s already been toyed with in films such as Fahrenheit 451, in which the characters participate in mundane teleplays whose characters seem to react to the outside participants. Hopefully, a new breed of this type of thing could be more involving.

There’s a chance this has already been done, by the way, and I’m just not privy to it. So if I’m wishing here for something that’s already obsolete, I apologize in advance.

Skip’s Quips: Slamming the State of Serious ’70s Sci-Fi

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Blog Sketch 082813Gosh, Rollerball is a mediocre movie.

I came to this realization after giving the Norman Jewison-helmed sci-fi flick yet another chance on Turner Classic Movies last night. It confirmed all my previous assessments: that it’s pretentious, tiresome and not as introspective as it thinks it is. The blame can partly fall on the script–which documents a future society in which corporations rule the world and sanction the violent, eponymous arena game–but it also features a lethargic performance by the usually reliable James Caan, slow-paced direction by Jewison (no, shots of people turning their heads to stare at the protagonist menacingly are not a substitute for character development) and dubious social commentary … most lamentably evidenced by a scene in which a posse of doltish partygoers representing, I assume, our worst inner voices, commit arboricide with the help of a rather powerful gun.

OK, I get it. Humans are bad. We like wars and killing trees. Fine.

We also like quality filmmaking–and Rollerball doesn’t cut it. The main problem, however, is that it could’ve been so much better, like so many other serious 1970s sci-fi flicks. Logan’s Run, A Boy and His Dog, Soylent Green … science fiction really had a lot to say in that era, but a scarce few films then aced the sniff test. I wish the folks behind them had taken the time to streamline the scripts, make the messaging less heavy-handed, kept the preaching to a minimum. Forbidden Planet‘s a benchmark. So is Paul Verhoeven’s Total Recall. Spare, concise screenplays, quick-flowing dialogue, tense direction. That’s all you want in a good sci-fi movie, and you don’t find that a lot in the “golden” age of the 1970s. Ideas are almost commonplace. Execution isn’t.

So why is that? I know that period heralded an age of cinematic risks, and many of the non-sci-fi films then exemplified that. Yet with the exception of pictures such as Fantastic Planet and A Clockwork Orange, many of these flicks don’t live up to their expectations. Yes, I know the 1970s also saw the debuts of Alien and Star Wars, but those are less like “message” movies than old-fashioned, leave-your-thinking-at-the-door entertainment.

Rollerball, at its core, is a message movie. And it doesn’t work. Does that mean sci-fi should be devoid of messages altogether–that it should stick to what it does best? (Read: lasers.)

I don’t think so. But it’s something I’ll ponder next time I watch one of these futuristic “man-must” movies. Man must do this, man must do that.

Man must make better science fiction films, methinks.

Here’s Looking at You, Cult