Pet Sematary (2019)

PET SEMATARY (2019) One-and-a-half stars

I best stay away from the reboots, retcons, or remakes of horror movies for quite some time.

In the case of PET SEMATARY, it actually did meet my rather low expectations.

For the record, it’s the second time in my life that I let a loved one pick the free rental — following M. Night Sham-A-Lama-Ding-Dong’s 2006 epic turd LADY IN THE WATER — and I still feel cheated. There’s an obvious moral lesson to be learned here.

PET SEMATARY lays it on thick, awful thick, with just about every cheap carny trick in the book. I wanted to give up about 20 minutes in, during the death of Victor Pascow in the hospital. That’s when the young man’s brain pulsates from his skull and a nurse exclaims, “Oh my God! I can see his brain!” I stuck it out, although I grumbled something or other about “cheap trick” to my wife not long after the scene.

The plot: Dr. Louis Creed (Jason Clarke) and his wife Rachel (Amy Seimetz) move their family — daughter Ellie (Jete Laurence) and son Gage (Hugo, Lucas Lavoie), plus fur baby Church — from metropolis Boston to rural Maine.

Now, in real life, that’s undoubtedly a good move for everybody concerned. Not in the movies, however, especially any movie based on a best-selling Stephen King novel.

You just know they’re fucked, doomed to a nightmarish saga worse than urban violence. In fact, we needed Crazy Ralph peddling past on his bicycle and screaming “You’re doomed” and “It’s got a death curse” at our young couple.

I know what you’re thinking, that Jason killed off Crazy Ralph long ago, but not if Crazy Ralph was buried in a pet cemetery. I’m just getting a little bit ahead of myself, oh by about three paragraphs.

Thanks to the collective works of King and “Murder, She Wrote,” I have no desire to move to Maine.

The Creeds buy one doozy of a property and I bet it’s listed right next to the Amityville Horror House in Toms River, New Jersey. Once again, the true villain of a horror movie should be the realtor.

Real estate perks for the Creeds’ dream house: A highway seemingly just a step away with semi-trucks barreling down the road all hours of the day (exactly what you’d want for two young children and one pet) and a pet cemetery in your backyard.

Never mind a kindly old man neighbor (John Lithgow) who’s going to lead you straight to your doom.

You’d think you’d rather go back to where you came in the first 10 minutes, right?

All this happens with the utmost predictability, because first and foremost it’s a remake that does not stray too far from the original. We’ve already been down this highway before and one big alteration director Kevin Kolsch and Dennis Widmyer and screenwriter Jeff Buhler made was spelled out in the film’s promotion. One of the trailers showed the whole movie in a mere 2 minutes, 26 seconds. PET SEMETARY is yet another movie where I recommend watching the trailer over the actual movie.

Somewhere, in past reviews, I have mentioned how I normally hate jump scares. They’re precisely what I mean by cheap carny trick.

Seasoned movie viewers should be able to detect a jump scare from a country mile away, identifying all the telltale signs.

PET SEMATARY abuses the old standard “It’s Only A Dream” about, just a guess here, 10 times too many.

Abuse is a fitting word for PET SEMETARY.

NOTE: How many times did AutoCorrect change the second half of PET SEMATARY to seminary? Every single time, and I had to change it to the original “incorrect” spelling. However, just think of the possibilities inherent here, for example, “I don’t want to be buried in a pet seminary.”

Breaker! Breaker! (1977)

BREAKER! BREAKER!

BREAKER! BREAKER! (1977) Two stars

We all have to start somewhere, as they say, and Chuck Norris fittingly started his true movie career with BREAKER! BREAKER! (We’ll ignore WAY OF THE DRAGON, because Norris plays a villain defeated by Bruce Lee.)

Well, BREAKER! BREAKER! is not a very good movie: Norris himself admitted that he had no idea what he was doing, it was made on an extremely low budget ($250,000) and looks it, its plot defines simplistic and leaves no room for shades of grey, and it’s a time capsule of the 1970s.

Whether or not that’s good or bad, I will leave for you to decide.

Hairdos, that music, arm wrestling, greasy diners, truck driving vernacular and CB radio lingo, and high flying karate with or without slow motion.

Yes, it all screams 1977.

BREAKER! BREAKER! only needed child custody and it could have predated OVER THE TOP by a decade.

Film’s alternate title: ROUNDHOUSE! ROUNDHOUSE! Believe you me, Mr. Norris unleashes one roundhouse per every minute of the film’s running time. Keep in mind that his feet have to catch up between the dialogue scenes.

Thinking about it a little bit longer, I believe I know where I’ve seen BREAKER! BREAKER! before: John Sturges’ 1955 classic BAD DAY AT BLACK ROCK, when Spencer Tracy’s one-armed war veteran runs into Lee Marvin, Robert Ryan, Ernest Borgnine, and just about every Black Rock resident.

BREAKER! BREAKER! is a dumbed-down BAD DAY AT BLOCK ROCK (which also predated FIRST BLOOD) and director Don Hulette is definitely no Sturges, whose other credits include GUNFIGHT AT THE O.K. CORRAL, THE MAGNIFICENT SEVEN, and THE GREAT ESCAPE.

The plot: Truck driver J.D. Dawes (Norris) warns his younger brother to stay away from Texas City, a California municipality rather hostile toward truckers. Judge Joshua Trimmings, Sergeant Strode, Deputy Boles, and seemingly every Texas City resident in cahoots run a brutal racket and they rough up one of Dawes’ friends, hence the warning to the younger brother. Well, of course, the younger brother does not stay away from Texas City and older brother springs into action to rescue younger brother and bring down corrupt Texas City. You can fill in the rest.

BREAKER! BREAKER! could play as part of a marathon with DUEL, SMOKEY AND THE BANDIT, and CONVOY or merely a double feature with the far superior BAD DAY AT BLACK ROCK.

NOTE: The poster for BREAKER! BREAKER! gets four stars.

B.I.G. (Bert I. Gordon) Double Feature: The Food of the Gods (1976) & Empire of the Ants (1977)

B.I.G. (BERT I. GORDON) DOUBLE FEATURE: THE FOOD OF THE GODS (1976) & EMPIRE OF THE ANTS (1977)

Killer giant rat films (giant killer rat films) do not populate the landscape as much as bad romantic comedies, bad teenage sex comedies, et cetera, do. They only come along every few years and it’s amazing we’ve not seen more in the aftermath of hipster environmentalism.

THE FOOD OF THE GODS is a bad film. A really, really, really bad film. Not a “so bad it’s good” film, just a plain bad film of epic proportions. There’s absolutely no suspense and there’s no entertainment from watching this incompetent film directed by one Bert I. Gordon, main creative force of the companion piece EMPIRE OF THE ANTS, yet another bio-kill film loosely based on a classic H.G. Wells novel. EMPIRE OF THE ANTS stars Joan Collins. Imagine the possibilities of a horror film where characters battle Joan Collins’ ego.

Bio-kill films came out seemingly by the hundreds after JAWS. We had mutant frogs, worms, ants, wasps, and killer bees. The animal kingdom — led by insects — will make us human scum pay for our transgressions against the ecosystem. See, we’ve screwed around with Mother Nature long enough and now Mother Nature will screw us.

Fond memories of THE KILLER SHREWS (1959) came back during THE FOOD OF THE GODS. Yes, the vicious killer rats in THE FOOD OF THE GODS look a whole helluva lot batter than whatever passed for imitation vicious killer rats in THE KILLER SHREWS (coon dogs, I do believe) yet that’s missing the point completely. THE KILLER SHREWS proves a campy good time and THE FOOD OF THE GODS feels more like a soulless mechanical assembly line production.

For example, there’s no mad scientist talk in THE FOOD OF THE GODS. Baruch Lumet and Gordon McClendon provided that during THE KILLER SHREWS and it reminded me of classic 1930s horror films like BRIDE OF FRANKENSTEIN and THE DEVIL-DOLL.

Ralph Meeker shows up in THE FOOD OF THE GODS as a mad capitalist named Bensington and mad capitalists are bad substitutes for mad scientists. There’s precious little energy and precious little joy in THE FOOD OF THE GODS. Had the Skinners’ animals been fed the script, we’d have never had THE FOOD OF THE GODS because a single morsel of the script would have poisoned every farm animal on the prerequisite remote island. They’d especially gag on the line Pamela Franklin throws Marjoe Gortner’s character about she’d like to make love to him, a crazy notion since they’re surrounded by giant killer rats. Coitus interruptus by rattus enormous!

Meeker and Ida Lupino are devoured by these giant killer rats. Not sure this is what they mean by paying one’s dues in the earlier stages of a career so one can later be devoured in a bad, bad, bad film.

Meeker (1920-88) had major roles in THE NAKED SPUR, KISS ME DEADLY, and PATHS OF GLORY, three brilliant films made in the 1950s.

Lupino, who appeared in the awful THE DEVIL’S RAIN just before THE FOOD OF THE GODS, directed eight films (including THE HITCH-HIKER) and seven of them from 1949 through 1953. She was ahead of her time.

Lupino and Meeker join icons like Ray Milland (killed in FROGS) and Kevin McCarthy and Keenan Wynn (killed in PIRANHA), for example.

Belinda Balaski survived THE FOOD OF THE GODS, but she did not PIRANHA and THE HOWLING, for those keeping score at home.

Notice how I did not yet mention the plot of THE FOOD OF THE GODS. That’s because the plot construction will immediately remind movie veterans of THE KILLER SHREWS, THE BIRDS, and NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD, all three better films with better plots.

The giant rats are not bad special effects, but they’re not the least bit scary. Winston Smith loved himself some rats in 1984 and we fill in the scenes with our imaginations rather than seeing Orwell’s illustrations of rats on the written page.

That said, there’s some really, really, really bad special effect sequences in THE FOOD OF THE GODS, as the gigantic killer wasps are every bit as scary as the killer bees in THE SWARM and the killer flies in AMITYVILLE 3-D. There’s some mutant chickens who provide us bad laughs.

Some day we’ll see a film with giant mutant killer film critics. We’ll be headed first after M. Night Shyamalan, as revenge for enduring his LADY IN THE WATER and his other bad, bad, bad movies.

The first sensible question posed by any reader might be, “Why do you review so many old movies?” A sensible question deserves a sensible answer.

Just because they are “old” plays, do we give up serious discussion of Shakespeare, for example? Do intellectuals give up on Marx and Socrates and Plato and the like just because they never had a Facebook account let alone have a place on the Hollywood Walk of Fame?

So “old” movies have a lot of catching up to do to other mediums.

Just a year after THE FOOD OF THE GODS, Mr. B.I.G. himself, Bert I. Gordon, came back with THE EMPIRE OF THE ANTS, another bio-kill movie loosely based on H.G. Wells.

EMPIRE OF THE ANTS opens with a ponderous voice-over narration that’s written like a combination of Rodney Dangerfield, Rickey Henderson, and Adolf Hitler. Our narration, obviously under ant control, lays it down that ants get no respect and it’s about time we stupid humans admit our genetic inferiority in the face of the superior ant race. It’s about time we stupid humans serve the superior ant race and we best “Treat it with respect” or there will be ecological hell to pay for us stupid, egotistical humans.

Once again, a post-JAWS horror film gives us an evil real estate developer. If there’s one horror film with an evil real estate developer, there are at least a hundred. However, evil real estate developers rarely take the shapely (and developed) form of Joan Collins. Of course, she’s a real mean bitch — potential audition tape for both THE BITCH and “Dynasty” — and she’s obsessed with the Bottom Line like all business people in bio-kill movies. Unfortunately, for us and coincidentally for her, the sight of her perfectly coiffed hair strikes more fear in the heart of the audience than the ants.

These are not the average garden variety ants. They are the brand of ant who had the great misfortune of being in a killer ant picture 23 years after the 1954 science fiction classic THEM! We do see a classic movie formula in action in EMPIRE OF THE ANTS: Barrels Labelled Danger: Radioactive Waste + Evil Real Estate Person = Giant Killer Ants. Extremely slow moving giant killer ants who laboriously pick off their victims as if the exposition scenes are not already bad enough.

Back to Joan Collins. Disaster movies of the era recruited fading stars for their casts. It must be some measure of the intrinsic artistic value of EMPIRE OF THE ANTS that it wound up with Joan Collins as its marquee attraction. For crying out loud, even FOOD OF THE GODS included Ralph Meeker and Ida Lupino.

A film like EMPIRE OF THE ANTS entertains idle thoughts. Lots and lots and lots of idle thoughts.

I started taking incriminating notes on the guilty parties of the opening credits and I came across this familiar name (and bod): Pamela Shoop. My internal movie database flashed back on a Pamela Susan Shoop from HALLOWEEN II (1981) and after some intense cross-referencing, it turned out this would be the same actress. She fared better as Pamela Shoop because the addition of Susan earned her a sweet nude scene before decapitation by Michael Myers. In EMPIRE OF THE ANTS, Shoop lives through a slime ball creep’s failed seduction and survives her attack by phony looking giant killer ants. Don’t forget radioactive.

After the basic expository set-up, the ants finally attack and establish a basic scene pattern, which I have reduced to (not in this exact order) BLOOD and SCREAMS and RUNNING and BLOOD and RUNNING and SCREAMS and PADDLING and SCREAMS and PADDLING and PADDLING and BLOOD and SCREAMS. I may have forgotten an extra RUNNING.

We get extra special treats like repeat ant’s eye view shots as they zero in on stock monster movie characters. Victims who just stand there and watch and scream. A victim who falls over what appears to be a single branch and just waits for her death. Of course, nobody brought any weapons to a picnic and outing sponsored by a friendly local evil real estate developer. There’s no guns, no knives, no machine guns, and, most importantly, no flamethrowers ‘cause, guess what, these ants hate fire. Of course.

Just imagine Devo in EMPIRE OF THE ANTS, in their radioactive suits and flower pot hats, killing ants by electric guitar and dangerous synthesizer grooves like the one that later powered “Whip It.” Devo could have even given us a classic theme song like the Five Blobs did for THE BLOB almost 20 years before.

Devo adapted their classic “Jocko Homo” and its “Are we not men? We are Devo” chant from a classic H.G. Wells novel. American International, producer Samuel Z. Arkoff, and Gordon also raided the Wells source material for two films. Wells may have predicted a time machine and cloning Marlon Brando in miniature form yet even his visionary mind never foreseen Joan Collins. Regardless, Wells should have written FOOD OF THE GODS and EMPIRE OF THE ANTS under another name.

THE FOOD OF THE GODS (1976) One star; EMPIRE OF THE ANTS (1977) One star

From Justin to Kelly (2003)

FROM JUSTIN TO KELLY (2003) No stars

Remember that scene in SCREAM 2 when horror movie geek Randy (Jamie Kennedy) blurts out SHOWGIRLS as his favorite scary movie?

In similar fashion, I blurt out FROM JUSTIN TO KELLY, one of the worst musicals and worst movies ever made. The thought of watching it again, now that’s scary, and so instead I will trust myself for a review I wrote of FROM JUSTIN TO KELLY many years ago. Here’s that review:

FROM JUSTIN TO KELLY set a lame musical number land speed record.

(approximate time)

Opening Number No. 1 — Kelly Clarkson sings “I Won’t Stand in Line.”

Opening Number No. 2 — Kelly sings the Go-Go’s “Vacation.”

6-7:00 — Stupid Beach Number.

10:00 — Lame White Guy Rap No. 1.

15:00 — Another Lame Group Number.

26:00 — Latino Flavored Number.

31:00 — Stabbed Myself in the Leg with an O’Reilly Auto Parts Blue Ink Pen.

34:00 — Stomach-curdling Love Ballad.

39:00 — Lame White Guy Rap No. 2.

43:00 — Charming, Oops, Harrowing Lame Pop Number.

51:00 — No Distinctive Lameness.

1:07:00 — Another Gut-Wrenching Ballad.

1:10:00 — Continuation of Previous Lame Ballad.

1:13.00 — Big Party Number (KC and the Sunshine Band cover).

1:16:00 — Lame White Guy Rap No. 3.

YOUR FEARFUL REPORTER SKIPPED THE END CREDITS.

Now it’s time for the multiple choice portion of this review.

Q: Justin Guarini’s hair most closely resembles this walking hair disaster:

A. Sideshow Bob, “The Simpsons”

B. Jack Nance, ERASERHEAD

C. “Kid” of Kid ’N’ Play

D. Carrot Top, Prop Comic Master

A: Ding! Ding! It is Sideshow Bob!

Q: The sexual activity of Justin and Kelly should be classified:

A. Coitus Interruptus

B. Coitus Postponus

C. Coitus or No Coitus Aggravate Us

A: Coitus or No Coitus Aggravate Us!

Some random declarations:

— FROM JUSTIN TO KELLY singlehandedly knocked Western Civilization back.

— Justin and Kelly have no chemistry.

— Travis Payne’s choreography made Busby Berkeley and Bob Fosse roll over in their graves.

— Justin leads three of the lamest guys in the history of the world. Actually the geeky guy in the glasses is the coolest and more closely resembles a real human being than his two male counterparts.

— Kelly’s entered into a Whipped Cream Bikini Contest. Remember this is a PG-rated spectacular. The MPAA citing: “For thematic elements, sensuality, and brief language.” Hell is said four or five times. Does this sound remotely like Spring Break?

— FROM JUSTIN TO KELLY made yours truly grateful he calls landlocked Kansas home.

— FROM JUSTIN TO KELLY also reminded me why I hate “American Idol” and have only watched two episodes over the years.

A scene missing from FROM JUSTIN TO KELLY: Remember that scene in ANIMAL HOUSE where the Delta House brothers throw their beer cans at the picture of pledge Flounder? Well, in FROM JUSTIN TO KELLY, Spring Break revelers throw their beer cans at a picture of Justin Guarini.

Children of the Corn (1984)

CHILDREN OF THE CORN (1984) One star

CHILDREN OF THE CORN is yet another textbook example of a film that cannot be taken seriously although it would love to be considered a serious film. We know that ‘cause we read an opening title like STEPHEN KING’S CHILDREN OF THE CORN, bashing us over the head this film wants to be a major event in our lives rather than a borderline incoherent, rambling supernatural thriller with pseudo-religious hogwash and brutal thriller machinations as its main selling points.

I will be the first to admit my ambivalence toward Stephen King, as well as Tom Clancy, John Grisham, Laurel Hamilton, Dean Koontz, and every other author who seems to have built-in access to a guaranteed mass audience every single time they publish even their napkins. Kmart, Walmart, and your friendly local supermarket determine the ultimate literary value of a select few writers and the rest of us hacks wallow in anonymity and simmering jealousy.

Fortunately, and unfortunately, I am well-versed in Stephen King film adaptations, probably just as much as you are at home. For every successful adaptation, like STAND BY ME and THE SHAWSHANK REDEMPTION, there’s absolute doggerel like CUJO, MAXIMUM OVERDRIVE, and DREAMCATCHER that rate among the most torturous movie experiences. In fact, I’d rate DREAMCATCHER high up among my top five worst movie theater experiences. One day, I’ll have to sit down and concentrate on that list.

CHILDREN OF THE CORN rates as bad King film adaptation. The rabid cult following may disagree but they’re not writing this review.

First and foremost, this is another King adaptation with religious poppycock galore. I traditionally despise religious fanaticism in the movies ‘cause it’s used by filmmakers as a cheap exploitation tactic. I hated, hated, hated this approach in films like AMITYVILLE II: THE POSSESSION, CARRIE, and THE OMEN. Are we supposed to cheaply laugh at somebody’s faith ‘cause they’re overzealous suckers and we’re in on the know and the joke they’re suckers?

How are we supposed to react to the evil corn, the pontification, and the music recycled from THE OMEN every time our filmmakers — led by director Fritz Kiersch — want us to pay attention. I have what’s called “bad laughs” and lots of them over the running time of CHILDREN OF THE CORN.

There’s a gruesome opening scene: The kids of Gatlin, Nebraska (introductory title: “GATLIN, NEBRASKA — THREE YEARS AGO”), kill their fathers and mothers and grandfathers and grandmothers and “The Blue Man.” See, a couple shady little individuals calling themselves Isaac and Malachi are instructed by “He Who Walks Behind the Rows.”

At this point, we should make a crucial distinction that just might save your life or at least guide you toward a better movie rental: In Nebraska, corn fields command kids to kill all the adults and make them sacrificial fodder. Meanwhile, in Iowa, corn fields instruct farmers to build a baseball diamond and they will come, well, except for Ty Cobb.

Anyhoo, Isaac (John Franklin) establishes a tyrannical regime of kids opposed to “sex, drugs, and rock ’n’ roll.” He’s a babbling pseudo-religious visionary with bad make-up. I laughed at Isaac’s pontification more than I have at some comedians over an entire career, because Isaac is a power-hungry miniature twit.

Malachi is the brute enforcer, a red-headed Jason Voorhees minus the hockey mask. He’s played by Courtney Gains, one of the best faces of 1980s movies. Sure we all remember Courtney Gains. George Constanza remembers him as the evil video store clerk in a “Seinfeld” episode. Gains appeared in BACK TO THE FUTURE, THE ‘BURBS, CAN’T BUY ME LOVE, and SECRET ADMIRER. For example, he tried cutting in on George McFly with Lorraine Baines at the Enchantment Under the Sea dance in good ole 1955. I’d rather talk more about Courtney Gains and his career than go back to reviewing CHILDREN OF THE CORN.

Where was I again? Who am I?

Anyway, Peter Horton and Linda Hamilton play our resident clean-cut wholesome All-American couple taking a trip inside a clean-cut wholesome All-American nightmare only found within a bad horror movie. These young lovers violate the Number One rule of interstate travel: ALWAYS STAY ON THE HIGHWAY. It’s almost like they never watched THE HILLS HAVE EYES.

This is yet another one of those “Of course” movies, because we say of course, they find a run down gas station with no telephone. Of course, the gas station owner’s a diabolical, shady old man in cahoots with the evil kiddos. Of course, the husband Burt (Horton) sees and hears something OVER THERE, always OVER THERE, and checks it out while the wife Vicky (Hamilton) wants to leave. Of course, they never do leave (until the end of the movie) and must fight through a living Hell to survive.

Next time, however, I suggest they drive through Iowa and find the Buddy Holly Crash Site near Clear Lake. It’s a long walk to the shrine of Holly, Ritchie Valens, and the Big Bopper, but a must if you love rock ‘n’ roll.

Back to the old man who’s the gas station attendant. He’s played by R.G. Armstrong in not one of his finest screen moments. Armstrong plays the role of a character whose function is that of the corpse in a self-contained murder sequence in a horror film, where it takes untold minutes to reach a destination we already predetermined in our heads after having watched countless self-contained murder sequences in horror films. Armstrong (1917-2012) must have rapidly slipped in his old age, considering that he survived THE BEAST WITHIN just a couple years before.

There’s also a little girl named Sarah, another pint-sized visionary. Her endearing and redeeming character trait is that she draws pictures of everything. Of course, Malachi wants to curb her artistic inclinations and of course, Isaac defends her visionary gifts, conflict among the ranks of the evil kiddos that only escalates during CHILDREN OF THE CORN.

I’d rather have looked at an exhibit of Sarah’s illustrations than watch CHILDREN OF THE CORN.

That’s because CHILDREN OF THE CORN bludgeons us with every cheap shock tactic of the bad horror movie.

There’s a lot of thunder and lightning, fire and brimstone, and loud music. And there are way too many scenes built on tight framing so we’re supposed to be scared on cue by an unexpected object jumping into the frame. The scariest accomplishment, however, of CHILDREN OF THE CORN is that it developed a cult following.

Howard the Duck (1986)

HOWARD THE DUCK (1986) One star

KODE-TV in Joplin once aired movies on Saturday nights and I recall watching THE ROCKY HORROR PICTURE SHOW, THE BREAKFAST CLUB, WOLFEN, and HOWARD THE DUCK in my impetuous youth.

Sometimes movies that we liked during our childhood and teenage years do not hold up during later viewings. Unfortunately, I do not remember how I reacted to HOWARD THE DUCK upon first viewing it some 30 years ago.

I do know that I caught up with HOWARD THE DUCK in 2009, though, wrote a negative review centered around the question “What were they thinking?” when Universal Pictures made HOWARD THE DUCK, and listed it as one of the worst movies of the 1980s, right down there with such “classics” as LEONARD PART 6 and THE GARBAGE PAIL KIDS.

That’s when I first encountered online defenders of bad movies. They’re vehement, and will leave you digital pleasantries like, for example, “Opinions are like assholes. …” Genius, pure genius, never heard that one before, Internet tough guy. I mean, how dare somebody think both HOWARD THE DUCK and LEONARD PART 6 stink it up. HOWARD THE DUCK and LEONARD PART 6 are both not so bad they’re good, they’re both so bad that they’re really really really bad. Every once in a great while, I dust them off just to remember what a bad movie plays like.

HOWARD THE DUCK is one of the great cinematic follies of all-time.

It wanted dearly to be like GHOSTBUSTERS, a combination of dazzling special effects and wisecracking comedy.

It fails in both departments and it starts with that live action duck, the biggest special effect mistake and comedic failure.

Howard’s a creepy little duck, a rather fowl protagonist despite the fact that director Willard Huyck (Huyck rhyme with duck?) and producer Gloria Katz toned him down and tried making him a nicer duck from his comic book origins.

It does not help the character that the film trots out every duck pun for 111 minutes, a running time a few minutes longer than GHOSTBUSTERS. Every single character must get at least one and I got tired of all the puns by the 5-minute mark.

Eight actors are credited as having some role in playing Howard the Duck: Ed Gale, Chip Zien, Tim Rose, Steve Sleap, Peter Baird, Mary Wells, Lisa Sturz, and Jordan Prentice. Six of the actors and actresses inside the duck suit (at different times) won the Razzie for Worst Performance in a Motion Picture. This is almost as impressive as the fact Harvey Stephens began his career as the Antichrist in THE OMEN. Where does one go from the Antichrist and where does one go from Howard the Duck? These are tough questions, and I have some more.

Do those actors and actresses put Howard the Duck on their resume? Or brag down at the pub “Oh yeah, man, you better not fuck with Howard the Duck” and “I played a talking duck from another planet in the movies. How about you, asshole, what the fuck have you done that’s so great?” Have any of these actors exploited their playing Howard the Duck to pick up women? Stranger lines have been spouted.

Howard’s not a funny duck and he must try a thousand jokes. He’s a lame duck, instead, that wishes he could have been the Groucho Marx or Bill Murray of ducks.

The last 40-45 minutes surrender to chase scenes and special effect showcases with lame duck pun interludes, then we’re treated to a thrilling grand finale of the “Howard the Duck” song, written by Thomas “She Blinded Me with Science” Dolby and George “Atomic Dog” Clinton.

The last 40-45 minutes feel like they run on as long as BEN-HUR and GONE WITH THE WIND combined.

Every time I see Lea Thompson, it brings me back to the strange trajectory of her early screen career: attacked by shark in JAWS 3-D, a creepy love affair with a married police officer who should have arrested himself for sex crimes in THE WILD LIFE, and unknowingly lusting after her own future son in BACK TO THE FUTURE. In HOWARD THE DUCK, the fetching Thompson smooches Howard all while she’s in her skimpies. It’s bad enough that her hairdo attacked the ozone layer, but she has to go the extra mile in HOWARD THE DUCK.

(We believe that Thompson’s hairdo in HOWARD THE DUCK contributed to the Montreal Protocol on Substances that Deplete the Ozone Layer that became effective in August 1989.)

Every time I watch HOWARD THE DUCK, I marvel at the fact that Tim Robbins somehow survived his performance and managed to sustain a career in such high-quality films as BULL DURHAM, JACOB’S LADDER, and THE SHAWSHANK REDEMPTION. His performance in HOWARD THE DUCK ranks among the most annoying supporting performances in history. Believe it or not, this was his fifth credited screen performance … and we have one more believe it or not.

HOWARD THE DUCK is the first feature-length Marvel Comics adaptation. When will Disney take a crack at remaking this remedial GHOSTBUSTERS?

Teen Wolf (1985)

TEEN WOLF

TEEN WOLF (1985) Three stars

During the review of SILVER BULLET, TEEN WOLF came to mind and then I looked up a rather negative review I wrote 10 years ago.

A decade later, I recommend TEEN WOLF for the very things I once mocked. Here’s the original two-star review (with only small edits):

“TEEN WOLF almost succeeds in spite of itself and I do mean in spite of itself.

“The film stockpiles a nuclear arsenal of cliches. Next time I see Kim Jong-Il I will ask him what he thinks of the film, in between our usual rap session ‘bout FRIDAY THE 13TH films. Let’s see, I’ll have to make a list otherwise my brain will explode and that cannot happen before Finals Week, let alone Dead Week.

“I’ll briefly mention 1) the Nebraska small town setting; 2) the loving, single widower and his teenage son protagonist on their own; 3) the teenage son protagonist feels he’s doomed to an eternity of being “average” until he finds out that he can be a teenage werewolf just like Michael Landon and the Cramps song before him; 4) the protagonist’s hipster and profiteer best friend; 5) the “fat guy” fifth wheel nicknamed, oh you’ll love this one, “Chubby”; 6) The Blonde = Bad Girl and The Brunette = Good Girl formula; 7)the protagonist lusts after the Blonde, actually succeeds in sleeping with the Blonde as the Wolf, and ends up realizing his undying love for the Brunette in the final act though she prefers “average” Scott Howard over the Wolf; 8) the Blonde’s Evil Overlord of Brooding Hot Shot boyfriend and the protagonist’s eternal foil; 9) the Evil Principal; 10) the wise guy head basketball coach who spits out incantations of advice rejected by Fortune 500 fortune cookie companies; 11) the scene where the protagonist faces down a wily old liquor store veteran who’s heard every scam ever to purchase some alcoholic contraband for a monster party; 12) The Monster Party; 13) The Big High School Dance; and I believe I’m done after this one, 14) The Big Game. Sorry, I apologize in advance for missing a few there.

“Once we grant the film’s central premise, that werewolf genes run down a family’s genetic line, which sounds too much like TWILIGHT for its own good before Taylor Lautner was even born, what’s wrong with a few generic movie standards? Nothing, absolutely nothing, except for when taken in tandem our friendly standards make for a generic motion picture spread. TEEN WOLF almost set the cliche land speed record.

“Michael J. Fox makes for a likable, charismatic protagonist and his energetic movie star performance lets us live through standard, predictable material. He enlists us on his side, whether he’s average small town boy lined up to inherit his father’s small town hardware store, Scott Howard, or his alter ego, ultra-cool and ultra-hip and dazzling slam dunker “The Wolf.” Fox essentially plays the Lon Chaney existential dread film werewolf crossed with John Travolta in SATURDAY NIGHT FEVER (at least for the big dance sequence and the big preparation for the dance sequence) and Julius Erving, as well as having issues with anger management and teenage angst.

“Do teen wolves get pimples? TEEN WOLF fails to address several burning questions. Especially not a PG-rated TEEN WOLF. Fox plays these scenes ‘bout as good as any actor possibly can and we stomach him through every predictable change like, for example, how Scott Howard transforms himself into above average when he’s the Wolf: He can dance, he can act, he can surf on slow-moving customized Wolf vans, and he can play mean basketball. Scott Howard eventually turns his back on ‘Wolf Mania’ and decides to be himself for The Big Game.

“James Hampton must have enjoyed playing a humble, sagely teenage protagonist’s old man in TEEN WOLF, considering his past as evil public relations man in THE CHINA SYNDROME and his future as evil federal regulatory agency man in PUMP UP THE VOLUME. Susan Ursitti breathes some fire into her standard issue role as the Brunette / Good Girl and this is both good and bad, good because it makes our lives relatively less boring and bad ‘cause we get even more frustrated by the wait for the inevitable dramatic (overdue) realization made by the protagonist that she’s meant for him, forever. The Bad Girl and her maligned Evil Overlord of Brooding Hot Shit boyfriend are the only characters who fail to entertain us, interest us, et cetera. They’re not very good performers and it’s painful waiting for their inevitable downfalls.

“Surely Teen Wolf’s impressive slam dunk artistry did not inspire Spud Webb, the 5’7” Atlanta Hawks point guard who prevailed in the NBA Slam Dunk Contest at the 1986 NBA All-Star Weekend in Dallas, besting his own Atlanta Hawks teammate, Dominique Wilkins. Michael J. Fox, why he’s short and he’s Canadian, two proverbial strikes against him, so naturally it takes a stunt double werewolf for him to slam dunk. I would have thought a werewolf’s claws would have made playing basketball like a proverbial artiste virtually impossible. Anything goes, in the movies.

“Hey wait, lovely lads and lovely ladies, I recollect another standard trotted out by TEEN WOLF. The montage. The “Winning Streak” Montage. The Car Surfing Montage. The Big High School Dance Montage. The Big Game Montage. Hyperkinetic action scored by a hyperkinetic rock song. For the big dance montage, we get a bad theme song namedropping “The Big Bad Wolf.” It’s an unwritten rule that any 1980s movie referencing itself in song, like PROM NIGHT and BETTER OFF DEAD, will turn out crap. When in doubt, filmmakers, yes, bring on a montage of hyperkinetic action (basketball, dancing, violence) scored by hyperkinetic rock music. TEEN WOLF competes with THE HEAVENLY KID and OVER THE TOP for montage land speed record. I bet the composers do not put TEEN WOLF down on their permanent record.

“Oh, now I remember a couple more standard tricks exploited by TEEN WOLF. Slow motion. BONNIE AND CLYDE and THE WILD BUNCH used slow motion to brilliant effect, as did early Bruce Lee karate films, but lesser films like BLACK BELT JONES made slow motion passé, not to mention its overuse on sports television. Want to see Teen Wolf slam dunk for what feels like the hundredth billionth time? Watch TEEN WOLF! Want to see “average” Scott Howard’s lay-up that barely makes it around the cup and in? Watch TEEN WOLF!

“Now, here we have a standard within a standard: late in the game, Scott Howard gets clotheslined on a final shot layup attempt by his eternal foil (at least for 90 minutes eternity) and his team, the Beavers, are down by one point and two made free throws will naturally win The Big Game for the Beavers.

“Howard steps to the free throw line … his eternal foil stares him down … he makes the first one, smoothly … the second free throw … it’s released … it’s looking good … it’s SLOW MOTION … slower and slower … oh no! … it hits the back of the rim … slower and slower and even slower motion … it touches almost every corner of the rim … and it finally rolls in … reaction shots galore … NO MORE SLOW MOTION … and the crowd storms the court in celebration of either the end of the Big Game, the end of the movie, the end of shooting the movie, or all three simultaneously. I’ll bet on all three ‘cause I know they were solid pros.

“Rod Daniel, oh what a director, this here Rod Daniel. TEEN WOLF perhaps represents the peak of Rod Daniel’s cinematic directorial career, TEEN WOLF up against the Dudley Moore-Kirk Cameron body switch masterpiece of dreck cinema LIKE FATHER LIKE SON and the BEETHOVEN sequel. I favor a slam-dunking, breakdancing Teen Wolf over a born again Kirk Cameron (Jesus couldn’t save Kirk Cameron’s acting) and Charles Grodin overshadowed by a dog. At least, Daniel had the decency not to direct TEEN WOLF TOO. On this or any other job, you win some, you lose some.”

Not sure what came over me when I wrote that review 10 years ago, especially since I have enjoyed TEEN WOLF many times over the years. A lot of the success of TEEN WOLF has to do with Michael J. Fox at the center. After all, with Jason Bateman in the title role instead, TEEN WOLF TOO proved to be a disaster, although that’s partly because TEEN WOLF did not require a sequel.

Silver Bullet (1985)

SILVER BULLET (1985) Two stars

“It’s such a fine line between stupid, and clever.”

— Spinal Tap lead singer David St. Hubbins

That’s one way to describe the Stephen King adaptation SILVER BULLET, which has left viewers from day one debating whether or not the film makers were intentionally parodying Stephen King and werewolf movies by making so many individual details ridiculous.

Many reviewers just considered SILVER BULLET to be laughably bad and not in the good way, hot on the entrails of previous laughably bad King adaptations CUJO and CHILDREN OF THE CORN.

Watching SILVER BULLET for the first time in many, many years, I must admit the internal split and acknowledge the fine line between stupid and clever.

Let us consider:

— We have a narrator (Broadway standout Tovah Feldshuh) who sounds like an old woman, although it’s only nine years after the main events depicted in the film when she was 15 years old. Feldshuh’s even listed as playing “Older Jane.”

— Gary Busey plays Uncle Red, a womanizing drunkard who dotes on paralyzed prepubescent protagonist Marty Coslaw (Corey Haim), Jane’s younger brother, and makes the boy customized wheelchairs called “The Silver Bullet.” I remembered the second wheelchair most from previous viewings of the film when I was roughly the same age as Marty.

— That second wheelchair, oh wow, just let me tell you that you’ve not enjoyed a complete moviegoing life until you’ve seen the scene where our priest / werewolf (Everett McGill) stalks Marty and his souped-up “Silver Bullet” in broad daylight. Marty’s second great escape is even greater than his first.

— Uncle Red should have pursued a career in wheelchair manufacturing.

— This review gives away the identity of the werewolf. Big deal. The movie tips off the identity almost immediately, but, of course, in a movie like SILVER BULLET, the townspeople are nincompoops and it takes young ones like Marty and Jane to figure out the truth. Those nincompoops are on an epic scale of nincompoop. I mean, it’s tipped off so obviously that “WEREWOLF” should have flashed on the screen below the character. They all should have died.

— The nincompoops form a “Citizens Action Brigade” in the first 30 minutes … after four killings. They load up on guns, load up into trucks, head out into the woods, step into traps, et cetera. Two nincompoops produce one of the great dialogue exchanges from the Planet X. …

Maggie Andrews: What’s the matter, Bobby? You gonna make lemonade in your pants?

Bobby Robertson: I ain’t scared!

— The werewolf resembles a black bear. After the technological advances made in the werewolf movie just four years earlier by THE HOWLING and AN AMERICAN WEREWOLF IN LONDON, SILVER BULLET set the species back years.

If they remade SILVER BULLET today, would the original be called a “classic”? Undoubtedly yes, of course, because every old movie remade automatically becomes “classic.” We’ve heard that incessantly about the 1989 PET SEMATARY, for example.

SILVER BULLET, like PET SEMATARY, is not a classic by any definition — “Judged over a period of time to be of the highest quality and outstanding of its kind” or “A work of art of recognized and established value.”

For crying out loud, TEEN WOLF — released a couple months before SILVER BULLET — stands up better.

An American Werewolf in London (1981)

AN AMERICAN WEREWOLF IN LONDON

AN AMERICAN WEREWOLF IN LONDON (1981) Three stars

The 1980s were a golden age for comedy horror: GREMLINS, GHOSTBUSTERS, RE-ANIMATOR, EVIL DEAD II, FRIGHT NIGHT, LITTLE SHOP OF HORRORS, and KILLER KLOWNS FROM OUTER SPACE.

I’d put AN AMERICAN WEREWOLF IN LONDON among the second tier of 1980s comedy horror films, below every film listed in the opening paragraph. Do not fear, though, because it’s still a good movie.

AMERICAN WEREWOLF specializes in dark comedy, very very very dark, even beyond morbid especially when a dead Jack Goodman (Griffin Dunne) haunts best friend David Kessler (David Naughton) as Mr. Kessler becomes the title character. Jack tells David that he must kill himself before he kills others and that he’s under the werewolf’s curse. Jack still has that same way with words he had when he was alive; that’s why David tells Jack, “I will not be threatened by a walking meatloaf.” Poor, poor Jack.

Of course, all this started when David and Jack, two American college students on a walking tour, stop at the Slaughtered Lamb. We’ve all heard of the Wrong Gas Station, a hallmark of many horror movies, but the Slaughtered Lamb represents the Wrong Drinking Establishment. You have to be real thirsty or hungry or both to stop at the Slaughtered Lamb. The regulars don’t exactly warm to no bratty Americans in the first place, but the irrepressible Jack sticks his foot in his mouth big time when he blurts out about a pentagram. The conspiratorial patrons give Jack and David the boot, although Jack and David are told very specifically to stay on the road and not to go into the moors. I believe that I last saw that setting in the 1939 Basil Rathbone Sherlock Holmes movie HOUND OF THE BASKERVILLES. I love the moors in the movies.

Of course, we all know that David and Jack don’t stick to the road and go exactly where they’re not supposed to go.

1981 featured three good wolf movies: THE HOWLING premiered March 13, WOLFEN July 24, and AMERICAN WEREWOLF August 21. For the record, I prefer both WOLFEN and THE HOWLING over AMERICAN WEREWOLF, and that’s an indication just how great of a year it was for movies about wolves. All three have their own distinct qualities, though both Joe Dante’s THE HOWLING and John Landis’ AMERICAN WEREWOLF pursue laughter far more than Michael Wadleigh’s WOLFEN.

All three stand out for their special effects: Rob Bottin and Rick Baker, who previously worked together on Dante’s PIRANHA, battled for werewolf transformation superiority and Baker’s makeup work on AMERICAN WEREWOLF earned him the first Academy Award for Best Makeup, as he beat out Stan Winston on the comedic craptacular HEARTBEEPS. The overshadowed WOLFEN did some innovative things with sound and image to depict the world of the wolf.

At this point in Landis’ career, the controversial director was on a major roll with a three-picture run of NATIONAL LAMPOON’S ANIMAL HOUSE, THE BLUES BROTHERS, and AMERICAN WEREWOLF. This was before TWILIGHT ZONE: THE MOVIE, when actor Vic Morrow and child actors Myca Dinh Le and Renee Shin-Yi Chen were killed in a helicopter accident during filming in July 1982.

The National Transportation Safety Board reported a couple years later: “The probable cause of the accident was the detonation of debris-laden high temperature special effects explosions too near a low-flying helicopter leading to foreign object damage to one rotor blade and delamination due to heat to the other rotor blade, the separation of the helicopter’s tail rotor assembly, and the uncontrolled descent of the helicopter. The proximity of the helicopter to the special effects explosions was due to the failure to establish direct communications and coordination between the pilot, who was in command of the helicopter operation, and the film director, who was in charge of the filming operation.”

(If you want to watch something fucked up, you can find “Vic Morrow’s Death Video” on YouTube. The rotor blades decapitated Morrow and Le and the right landing skid crushed Chen to death. All three died instantaneously. For this reason and the fact that it’s not very good, I cannot watch Landis’ installment in TWILIGHT ZONE: THE MOVIE and skip ahead on the DVD to the Joe Dante and George Miller portions of the program.)

Despite being acquitted of involuntary manslaughter after a nine-month jury trial over 1986 and 1987, Landis’ reputation rightfully took a major hit … and every single thing you can find about the incident makes Landis seem like the ultimate asshole director, worse than Hitchcock, worse than Kubrick, worse than Lang, worse than Preminger, worse than Woody Allen, worse than any other director in relentless pursuit of perfection. Landis broke California child labor laws by hiring both child actors without their required permits, in addition to his reckless behavior filming the nighttime helicopter sequence. None of this should have ever happened and Landis served not a single second of time for his crimes.

TRADING PLACES and COMING TO AMERICA both were hits directed by Landis. He also directed the nearly 14-minute music video for Michael Jackson’s “Thriller,” a job Landis earned after Jackson saw AMERICAN WEREWOLF. It is widely considered the greatest musical video of all-time.

Back to AMERICAN WEREWOLF.

AMERICAN WEREWOLF represents a throwback to the horror movies of the 1930s, especially the ones from Universal, updated with gore, nudity, and profanity of a modern era.

Like several other films from the 1980s, it deftly balances laughs and scares just right so often.

AMERICAN WEREWOLF, though, falls shy of greatness: There’s a lot to love, especially in the first 30 minutes, but I’ve never loved its ending (full half-point deduction alone for this deficiency) and I just cannot believe the savvy Landis did not choose Warren Zevon’s “Werewolves of London” — Lon Chaney Sr. and Jr. references on top lyrics “You hear him howling around your kitchen door / You better not let him in / Little old lady got mutilated late last night / Werewolves of London again” and “He’s the hairy-handed gent who ran amuck in Kent / Lately he’s been overheard in Mayfair / You better stay away from him / He’ll rip your lungs out, Jim / I’d like to meet his tailor.” In other words, Zevon’s dark sense of humor would have fit AMERICAN WEREWOLF, just like a wolf suit.

No matter how many times I’ve heard CCR’s “Bad Moon Rising” and Van Morrison’s “Moondance,” they still thrill and AMERICAN WEREWOLF uses them perfectly, especially pairing Morrison’s lyrics “Well, I want to make love to you tonight / I can’t wait ’til the morning has come / And I know now the time is just right / And straight into my arms you will run / And when you come my heart will be waiting / To make sure that you’re never alone / et cetera” with the escalation in David’s relationship with friendly nurse Alex (the alluring Jenny Agutter).

I’ll end this review with a warning to stick to the original and please do not watch AN AMERICAN WEREWOLF IN PARIS.