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Reviews
Biggie and Tupac (2002)
Far and away Broomfield's best effort to date.
Anyone expecting a tawdry,shoddy sleazefest along the lines of "Kurt and Courtney" should be pleasantly surprised here- this is an excellent film.
For a start, the conspiracy theory explored here is a far more credible one, and the evidence Broomfield turns up is very convincing in places. One has to wonder how genuine Broomfield's "camera on at all times" approach is, how much was created at the editing stage- he appears to get away with some very transgressive behaviour here on the basis of sheer amateurism, though it is clear the man has balls of iron. he thoughtlessly wanders through some of the worst neighbourhoods in LA and New York- in one classic scene his cameraman deserts him out of sheer fear, leaving him to manage a ludicrous prison interview with despotic Death Row records overlord Suge Knight alone. Irony being lost on Americans for the most part, Broomfield also manages to get away with some outrageous cheek- for instance asking Knight to deliver his "message for the kids" in a tone of smirking condescension.
For the heads, there is some great, rare footage on offer- a teenage Biggie ripping up a street corner freestyle battle, hoods dancing on their cars at his funeral, an electrifying Snoop Dog calling out New York at the notorious 95 source awards....plenty in there for the hip hop fan, along with some vintage Biggie and (for some reason) Gang Starr on the soundtrack. Broomfield manages to talk to every major player in the drama, with the notable exception of Afeni Shakur- which also explains the lack of 2Pacs' music on the soundtrack.
Despite its grim subject matter, there is much humour on offer here. In short, this is the best "rockumentary" in a very long time, and one that lingers in the mind for some time afterwards.
Something of a triumph.
Back Against the Wall (2000)
"He's an allright Guy....."
Back Against the Wall is a startling piece of work, perhaps a calling card for a new cult hero. essentially an exploration of intersexual power relationships, the films glacial shift from mundanity to horror is consummately achieved: the dialogue is sparse, the monochrome film stock pockmarked and meal-textured, the camera almost invariably fixed in one of a scant few locations, the score composed of wavering tape loops, enviromental sound, prepared piano and claustrophobic electronic emissions.
it all adds up to something entirely fresh- a sickeningly disturbing example of the power of minimalism, the subconscious, and the unseen.
certain to divide opinion as starkly as possible, unmissable for aficianados of "other" cinema.
Brat (1997)
Avoid at all costs.
A hit in Russia and inexplicably rated by buffs, this truly awful movie is a dim, messy endurance test. Though they are at the heart of the plot, Viktor's criminal connections are never explained, the acting is amateurish in the worst possible way, and the horrifying array of cable knitwear is too much for western eyes to take. Also a subplot involving a mesmerisingly awful synth rock band called Nautulis seems beamed in from another planet.
Viktor Sukhorukov, who would prove so effortlessly sinister in Balabanov's next project, "Of Freaks and Men" (where his character would again share his real name) is a skeletal, leering caricature, and the less said of Sergei Bodrov in the lead the better. Visually, the film seems lost in a colourless sludge.
Be kind to yourself: see "Of Freaks and Men" instead and forget that this film exists.
Who'll Stop the Rain (1978)
Lost...but good.
Lacking the iconoclasm of Robert Stone's memorably harrowing novel, this film strips away the 60s demythologising that made the book so compelling to leave a nonetheless excellent thriller. Michael Moriarty is perfect as the distant, nervous Converse and Nolte also gives a good account of himself. Charles Haid and Richard Masur stand out amongst well realised supporting roles; however Tuesday Weld is woefully miscast and wholly unconvincing as Converse's wife Marge, here played as far too much the suburbanite; likewise Gail Strickland's thankfully brief turn as a two faced hippie drug dealer.
Stone is co-credited with the screenplay which wisely keeps some of the best dialogue of the novel (sample: Converse to Hicks on picking up a well thumbed volume of Nietzsche: "You still into this s**t?" Hicks: "Yeah." Converse: "Jesus. That's really f**king piquant.").
Unaccountably this film was a box office failiure and has passed into obscurity: it regularly pops up at boot sales and the like so has been slowly gaining a cult reputation over the last decade. it is well worth picking up, though reading the book first is certainly recommended.
It's Alive III: Island of the Alive (1987)
My child deserves to live....
Certainly the silliest of the trilogy, "It's Alive III" remains loaded with both Larry Cohen's carnival barker imagination and the sheer tasteless audacity of its premise: crashing metaphors for aids, abortion, censorship, media intrusion and the sexualisation of children fairly brisk by. One wilfully laughable plot aside even has Cohen cock a snook at U.S/Cuba relations. Not since "Q" has he made a movie so explicitly reverent (referential), in both content and presentation, of the golden age of b horror/sci-fi: this curiousity could, should have been made, "special" effects and all, in the 1950's.
John P. Ryan is much missed with Michael Moriarty bringing nothing like his grasping beatific intensity to the lead, despite a couple of crackpot improvisations. The rest of the cast are barely servicable.
We might remember this movie was shot in four weeks; despite its amateurishness it is impossible not to recommend to anyone with an interest in the raw cinema.
Ticks (1993)
If you will rent killer insect movies....
The first twenty odd minutes of this film follow genre conventions of the old school with slavish determination as we are introduced to a gaggle of teen dumbasses; we even get the usual encounter with a slavering backwoods redneck to presage the trouble ahead. In one of the most blatant examples of space saving exposition on film Scolari (as "Charles Danson") psychologically profiles each cast member to a dictaphone so we don't have to waste time with character development. For the heads this is like a table being set; unfortunately "Ticks" fails to deliver. Brian Yuzna's presence in the producer's chair infuses the movie with the anticipated hint of 50s B nostalgia but it is not enough: the summer camp setting and the casting suggest an adapted slasher movie but the reality is inevitably closer to a cut rate "Arachnophobia". Further problems include appalling lighting, with the camera frequently pointed directly at the sun and the cabin scenes ropily arc lit, Alfonso Ribeiro (that's right, Carlton from Fresh Prince of Bel Air) essaying the street kid who rocks fingerless leather gloves as well as tucking his elasticated cuffs behind the tongues of his hi tops, and an ending so stultifyingly predictable as to elicit groans and thrown popcorn from all still watching. Shame, because the tick effects aren't half bad, Clint Howard is present, Barry Lynch is "good value" of a sort, and there are a couple of decent gore scenes. How good did you expect a film about dope mutated ticks to be?
The Dentist 2 (1998)
Smile.....
Brian Yuzna is cast as a saviour by genre fans, and "The Dentist 2", along with the cherished "Society" might give you some idea why. Although the film offers little that could not be found in its prequel, it is somewhat better made, efficently exploiting dentophobia and riffing on the trust involved in a doctor-patient relationship. For the gorehounds, suffice to say three of the four people I watched this with walked out in disgust: taking the place of traditional death sequences are gleeful bouts of unanaesthetised dental destruction, performed with the aid of convincing models in unflinching close up. By this second outing Corbin Bernstein is really inhabiting the role of Dr. Feinstone, and his affectionately campy turn provides the film with much of its drive and humour. in one hilarious sequence he desperately admonishes himself in the shower: "nutCASE, nutBALL, wacko, loony..."
Though self evidently not to all tastes, this film certainly hits a nerve (sorry, that was accidental) and is made with some intelligence and respect for its intended audience. check.
Spookies (1986)
entirely risible nonsense.
SPOILER: stumbling upon an abandoned mansion in the middle of the night, a mismatched group of partygoers decide to explore, and are surprised to discover an inexplicable menagerie of monsters presided over by your stock "evil genius" type. there is a sliver of plot in there somewhere about him reviving a long dead lover, but the film makes very little sense indeed, careening witlessly from one half baked set piece to the next. the awful synth soundtrack screechingly emulates goblin, while acting, writing and camerawork are insultingly shoddy. genre fans might derive a little enjoyment from a couple of ambitious cheapjack effect sequences, but this is categorically not a good exploitation movie and bears no comparison to, say, evil dead - a comparison which is shamelessly invited by a sequence involving the possession of one of the characters. strictly for stoned students with a great deal of time on their hands.