Shaft (1971)

SHAFT

SHAFT (1971) Three-and-a-half stars

A whole new generation of fans discovered Isaac Hayes (1942-2008) through his work for Trey Parker and Matt Stone on “South Park.”

I’m talking about Chef, Hayes’ animated alter ego, his songs like “Chocolate Salty Balls” and “Love Gravy,” his lines “Hello there, children” and “Damn, woman, I just gave you sweet loving five minutes ago” (oh, for just one game of South Park pinball right about now), and his overall cool until everything went all screwy there at the end between Mr. Hayes and the boys.

I went back in time and delved through Hayes’ previous work.

At some point in the late 20th or early 21st century, I watched Gordon Parks’ SHAFT for the first time, roughly the same time as I watched the John Singleton remake, er, sequel starring Samuel Jackson and featuring Christian Bale, Toni Collette, and Jeffrey Wright. It would have been nice if the suburban multiplex paired the ‘71 and ‘00 pictures together, but, no, of course not, and my ears still feel like they’re ringing from the 110-minute action spectacular. Nigel Tufner must have been the projectionist that day, because it was cranked up to 11 x 11.

(For crying out loud, why do we need three movies simply titled SHAFT? This is just as bad as HALLOWEEN.)

I vastly prefer the ‘71 SHAFT over any of the later SHAFT films (I, of course, have not seen the 2019 one) and there’s not one scene in either ‘70s sequel, BIG SCORE and GOES TO AFRICA, or the 2000 sequel or the rest of the first picture itself that even approaches the opening five minutes. Talk about iconic.

It all starts with the multifaceted sounds of the modern day big city rumble, then it moves on to the sights. Burt Lancaster and Telly Savalas in THE SCALPHUNTERS and George Peppard and Dean Martin in ROUGH NIGHT IN JERICHO. Robert Redford, Michael Pollard, and Lauren Hutton in LITTLE FAUSS … never mind, the first 42nd Street showing of HE AND SHE and second big hit THE ANIMAL. There’s more hype, then the first notes of Hayes’ “Theme from Shaft” hit us.

Nearly 45 seconds into the movie, we’re given our introduction to the title character with a close-up of the man coming out from the subway and we’re already interested. He walks across six lanes of traffic and flashes an obscene gesture and shouts “Up yours!” at somebody who had the audacity to honk their horn. We’re interested some more, as we observe what must be just another day in the life of this angry black man.

We see more commercialization and Shaft walks through a crowd of picketers. One sign: “I GOT MY JOB THROUGH THE New York Times.” Another: “WANT YOUR SEX LIFE PUBLISHED?” One more: “I LOST MY JOB THRU Fidelifacts.” Just before making his way through picketers, Shaft flashes his badge at a street peddler, who promptly skedaddles to somewhere else. “Theme from Shaft” has been playing this whole time and picking up momentum as the opening credits scroll and our title character strolls.

It’s been about 150 seconds into the number before Hayes matter-of-factly asks “Who’s the black private dick that’s a sex machine to all the chicks?” Backing vocalists Pat Lewis, Rose Williams, Mitchell Butler, and Telma Hopkins answer “Shaft” and Hayes replies “Damn right.” We are hooked, that’s damn right for sure.

“Theme from Shaft” won the 1972 Academy Award for Best Original Song, and it’s a stone cold classic especially in its single form. We can file the opening scene in SHAFT under “Great Opening Scenes.”

Hayes wrote the lyrics, handled lead vocals, made the arrangements, and played the keyboards. Lester Snell (electric piano), David Becker (viola), Charles Pitts (guitar), Michael Toles (guitar), Marc “Dr. Love” Davis (guitar solo), James Alexander (bass guitar), Richard “Johnny” Davis (trumpet), John Fonville (flute), Gary Jones (congas), and Willie Hall (drums) all played their parts masterfully.

Despite the fact that none of the remaining 90 or so minutes can measure up against the opening five, SHAFT affords one additional pleasures. That should be of little surprise, since this material puts a black spin on James Bond and Mike Hammer.

White author Ernest Tidyman (1928-84) adapted his own 1970 novel for the screen and Tidyman became a household name in Hollywood with SHAFT and THE FRENCH CONNECTION both major hits in 1971. Tidyman won the Academy Award for Best Adapted Screenplay for THE FRENCH CONNECTION, a Best Picture winner.

Tidyman, who FRENCH CONNECTION producer Philip D’Antoni thought would be black, did not like the SHAFT rewrite by John D.F. Black, a writer hired by Parks. Despite his displeasure, Tidyman returned to write the sequel also directed by Parks (1912-2006). The former newspaperman wrote more Shaft novels, “Shaft Among the Jews” (1972), “Shaft’s Big Score” (1972), “Shaft Has a Ball” (1973), “Goodbye, Mr. Shaft” (1973), “Shaft’s Carnival of Killers” (1974), and “The Last Shaft” (1975). Tidyman also wrote HIGH PLAINS DRIFTER and the early Chuck Norris pic A FORCE OF ONE.

Former model turned actor Richard Roundtree makes such a strong impression as Shaft that he’s been called the first black action hero. Not a bad screen debut. Hayes’ opening number greatly assists Roundtree, his character, and us audience members because it paints a portrait of Shaft’s basic personality and makes him a bit larger-than-life. We like this character a great deal already within the film’s first five minutes. We applaud him, especially when he sticks it to the man. Every now and then, all of us wish that we could stick it to the man, just like John Shaft.

National Lampoon’s Animal House (1978)

NATIONAL LAMPOON’S ANIMAL HOUSE (1978) Four stars

There are few comedies I have enjoyed as much as NATIONAL LAMPOON’S ANIMAL HOUSE.

I have watched it many times over the years and that’s not even counting all those times on TBS, because, let’s face it, one misses so many “good parts” of a movie like ANIMAL HOUSE when it’s been edited for TV. It warped my fragile little mind seeing it on video the first time and I lost count of how many times I watched that VHS tape I bought circa 1997.

I loaned it to Brad Rich so he could watch Bluto’s infamous “Germans bombed Pearl Harbor” speech and remember it verbatim for his high school speech class. Mr. Rich earned an ‘A’ for his performance. Unfortunately, I did not have the opportunity to watch him act it out, though, fortunately, Mr. Rich returned the VHS tape. Bonus points for him.

College friend Don Stephens came over to my house about once a week to watch ANIMAL HOUSE it seemed like after Mr. Stephens joined a fraternity at Pittsburg State. Mr. Stephens and I started living ANIMAL HOUSE just a little bit so the viewings of the movie decreased significantly, especially after I continued my educational career in 2000 at Pitt State. Mr. Stephens eventually returned to the ranks of the independents and I remained one throughout both tours of college.

There was that one night when Mr. Stephens played Otter and I was Boon: “Hi, Don Stephens, damn glad to meet you,” then I hit ‘em with “Hi, that was Don Stephens, he was damn glad to meet you.” We only used it that one night, especially since it seemed like nobody got the reference. That’s when I started losing faith in the youth of America and have ever since.

Another time, Mr. Stephens and I went on a Thanksgiving break pilgrimage to Wichita to meet two young women (sisters) and, ahem, spend the night at their house. At some point, I believe it was early on at the bar, my date said that I was just like that Bluto guy from ANIMAL HOUSE, since I told her I’d been in college seven years. You win some, you lose some, and another time I’ll tell you about the six years off-and-on I knew my date from Wichita, although, to be honest, I really don’t want to do that.

Enough about that: ANIMAL HOUSE made a tremendous impact on the movie industry.

Every year, we get at least one raunchy, R-rated, gross out comedy.

ANIMAL HOUSE paved the parade route for PORKY’S, FAST TIMES AT RIDGEMONT HIGH, DAZED AND CONFUSED, AMERICAN PIE, OLD SCHOOL, WEDDING CRASHERS, and HANGOVER.

Every time I watch ANIMAL HOUSE, it holds up and it remains better than its followers.

First and foremost, it is superbly acted up and down the cast.

Tom Hulce and Stephen Furst (1954-2017) make a successful entry point into this world, as one snooty sorority sister calls them “the wimp and the blimp.” Tim Matheson and Peter Riegert play off each other so well as ladies man Otter and wing man Boon that we believe their characters have been friends for several years. James Daughton and Mark Metcalf, especially Metcalf as Niedermeyer, create thoroughly detestable characters that we love to hate.

Speaking of characters that we love to hate, Canadian actor John Vernon (1932-2005) had a knack for playing them better than just about anybody else. We enjoy every single appearance made by his Dean Wormer in ANIMAL HOUSE, every single time he gets his comeuppance, and especially every single time Vernon sinks his teeth into lines like “Fat, drunk, and stupid is no way to go through life, son” and “Put a sock in it, boy, or else you’ll be outta here like shit through a goose.” Vernon later played a similar character in KILLER KLOWNS FROM OUTER SPACE, retaining that bias against college kids.

John Belushi (1949-82) exploded into stardom with the success of ANIMAL HOUSE, one of the biggest hits of 1978. Outside action heroes Clint Eastwood, Charles Bronson, and Steve McQueen, we don’t find star-making performances built around fewer words. Belushi’s Bluto makes us laugh mostly through classic physical comedy and he irritates the comic villains every bit as effectively as the Marx Brothers and the Three Stooges did in their heyday.

Bluto definitely puts the animal in ANIMAL HOUSE, smashing acoustic guitars, downing full whiskey bottles in one fell swig (actually iced tea), pouring mustard on himself, starting food fights (by popping “zits”) and nationwide dance crazes, and peeping at cute coeds. Bluto’s predominantly silent act pays off with his big speech late in the pic for the Delta troops. It’s not quite George C. Scott as George S. Patton at the start of PATTON, but it’s close, real close in memorability.

Bluto has been described as a cross between Harpo Marx and the Cookie Monster.

Just about everybody has a memorable character in ANIMAL HOUSE, from Kevin Bacon in his motion picture debut (“Thank you sir, may I have another?”; how dare I forget a softball practice where I made every teammate who wanted another grounder hit their way ask that very question) to the lovely Karen Allen also in her debut, as well as Verna Bloom (1938-2019) as the ready and willing dean’s wife, Donald Sutherland as a hip professor, and DeWayne Jessie lip syncing his way through Otis Day on “Shout” and “Shama Lama Ding Dong.”

John Landis began a string of winners here, followed by THE BLUES BROTHERS, AN AMERICAN WEREWOLF IN LONDON, and TRADING PLACES over a few years. Universal wanted Chevy Chase to play the Otter role that went to Matheson, but Landis felt Chase was not right for the part and the director played a little Jedi mind trick by telling Chase that ANIMAL HOUSE would be an ensemble pic. That disinterested Chase, who instead made FOUL PLAY. Landis contributed to the anarchic atmosphere of ANIMAL HOUSE by throwing things at the actors, like an early scene when Bluto leads Flounder and Pinto into the Delta house and they’re greeted by a couple flying bottles.

Harold Ramis (1944-2014), Chris Miller, and Douglas Kenney (1946-80) combined on the screenplay and contributed their own collegiate and fraternal experiences.

George Lucas’ AMERICAN GRAFFITI famously asks “Where were you in ‘62?” ANIMAL HOUSE, released almost five years later to the day by the same studio, also takes place in ‘62 and Lucas, Ramis, Miller, and Kenney obviously had different answers to where they were in ‘62 and these different answers inform their respective movies and characters.

Both smash hit movies inform us what happened to their main characters. For example, in AMERICAN GRAFFITI, we’re told Terry the Toad is reported missing in action in Vietnam in December 1965. Meanwhile, in ANIMAL HOUSE, we read that Neidermeyer’s own troops kill him in Vietnam. Yes, indeed, they fragged Neidermeyer. Maybe even Terry the Toad took part in it.

Hercules in New York (1969)

HERCULES IN NEW YORK (1969) One-and-a-half stars

I remember first watching HERCULES IN NEW YORK, Arnold Schwarzenegger’s infamous motion picture debut, on “USA Up All Night” and I am trying to remember if it was Rhonda Shear or Gilbert Gottfried hosting that night.

I caught up with HERCULES IN NEW YORK about 10 years ago and wrote a rather negative review (that seems to be a pattern). I remember making fun of the ridiculous voice dubbed for Schwarzenegger and cracking multiple governor jokes.

I received “Arnold’s original classic” for Christmas and it’s hyped featuring his original audio track. That’s a vast improvement from dubbed Arnold, because it is infinitely more enjoyable to hear Mr. Schwarzenegger (billed as Arnold Strong, playing off co-star Arnold Stang) flub his lines than hear some mismatched voice for the world’s strongest man. We do hear Arnold’s voice except for the final scene. In that sense, we don’t leave HERCULES IN NEW YORK asking ourselves like Johnny Rotten, “Ever get the feeling you’ve been cheated?”

Where do we go now with HERCULES IN NEW YORK? The title basically sums up the plot, but unfortunately, there’s a lot more to it than that with scenes taking place in both New York City and Mount Olympus. On Earth, it’s a situation comedy with tons of slapstick and incredible feats by our title character, while on Mount Olympus, it’s a soap opera featuring Zeus, Juno, Venus, Hercules, Mercury, et cetera.

Hercules challenges Zeus, Zeus punishes Hercules, Hercules defies Zeus, Juno plots behind their back, Mercury attempts to bring Herc back, oh help us all, I just want more scenes like the infamous one where Hercules takes on a man-in-a-bear suit or even like the early one where he overpowers a car. Yes, I want more incredible feats and less soap opera.

If viewers at home decide to play a drinking game with HERCULES IN NEW YORK, please be careful which phrases and drinks are selected. For example, if you select “I am Hercules” and you’re drinking shots, you just might be passed out by the 30-minute mark. Then again, you just might prefer that over watching the rest of HERCULES IN NEW YORK, especially since the final 30 minutes are much worse than the first 30.

I wonder if there’s ever been a weirder screen pairing than Stang and Schwarzenegger.

The 5-foot-3 Stang and the 6-2 Schwarzenegger. The high-pitched motor-mouthed New Yorker and the Austrian who struggles with the English language. The scrawny bean pole and Mr. Olympia. They both enjoyed successful careers against the odds: Stang (1918-2009) described himself as a frightened chipmunk who’s been out in the rain too long, while Schwarzenegger’s mentor Joe Weider (1919-2013) falsely claimed the bodybuilder had extensive “stage” experience to get the big lug the Hercules part. Schwarzenegger returned to acting in Bob Rafelson’s STAY HUNGRY (1976) and later became perhaps the unlikeliest star after CONAN THE BARBARIAN and THE TERMINATOR. Stang continued to work into his 70s in a career that spawned more than 50 years.

It should be mentioned that Reg Park’s performance and physique in Mario Bava’s 1961 HERCULES IN THE HAUNTED WORLD inspired Schwarzenegger to become a bodybuilder. In turn, Park himself urged Schwarzenegger to take on the Hercules role. Too bad, Arnold did not have Bava (BLACK SUNDAY, TWITCH OF THE DEATH NERVE) for director.

Schwarzenegger’s friend and rival Lou Ferrigno played Hercules in two movies, HERCULES and THE ADVENTURES OF HERCULES. At the fourth annual Golden Raspberry Awards in 1984, Ferrigno won “Worst New Star” for his performance in HERCULES, beating out Loni Anderson in STROKER ACE, Reb Brown in YOR, THE HUNTER OF THE FUTURE, the shrieking dolphins Cindy and Sandy from JAWS 3, and Finola Hughes in STAYING ALIVE. Bet only this one time Ferrigno would have liked to have been beaten by two dolphins.

Schwarzenegger became more successful avoiding being typecast than any other bodybuilder turned actor. At one point, he was the biggest action star in the world, both physically and financially.

Even in a bad movie like HERCULES IN NEW YORK, one can see Arnold’s potential.

In all conscience, I cannot rate HERCULES IN NEW YORK lower than JUNO, because I laughed more at it than I did the overrated 2007 comedy.

Night of the Lepus (1972)

NIGHT OF THE LEPUS (1972) Three stars

Janet Leigh (1927-2004) famously said that she never took another shower after her iconic scene in PSYCHO.

Wonder what she said after her performance in William F. Claxton’s NIGHT OF THE LEPUS.

Reportedly, Leigh said “I’ve forgotten as much as I could about that picture.”

Well, Claxton ain’t quite Hitchcock and NIGHT OF THE LEPUS ain’t quite PSYCHO, but this 1972 picture certainly deserves a far better reputation. Like PLAN 9 FROM OUTER SPACE, it’s simply just too darn entertaining to be anywhere near the “worst movie ever made.”

After all, it’s not every day that you see a bad movie featuring Leigh, Stuart Whitman, Rory Calhoun (1922-99), DeForest Kelley (1920-99), Paul Fix (1901-83), and a cast of all-star killer rabbits. They’re playing it straight and not condescending to the material. Give them at least that much credit.

The single biggest gripe against NIGHT OF THE LEPUS: The killer rabbits are not scary. I don’t know if there’s ever been a single review of NIGHT OF THE LEPUS that’s gone without making a major note about the premise itself and then the botched execution of that bad idea.

Claxton and crew obviously worked very hard to make the homicidal rabbits more imposing and terrifying. They constructed miniature sets for regular-sized rabbits to run wild through, filmed them from angles conducive to making the rabbits appear larger-than-life, and cooked up very convincing guttural noises for our furry friends when they’re in full-on beast mode. Basically, our title characters look like they’re running wild on the set of a Western filmed in the back lots of Arizona … and I believe that’s exactly what happened.

Maybe one day they’ll cross NIGHT OF THE LEPUS with THE TERROR OF TINY TOWN.

As far as rabbits not being scary, I do believe these complainers have not encountered that dynamite rabbit from MONTY PYTHON AND THE HOLY GRAIL and Ted “Theodore” Logan’s brush with the Easter Bunny from Hell in BILL AND TED’S BOGUS JOURNEY.

Rabbits can be scary. In theory, anything could be scary, if done right.

Honestly, I don’t know if I could handle a truly scary killer rabbit picture.

The producers did their best to obscure the nature of the killers in promoting NIGHT OF THE LEPUS, apparently booking on the fact that millions did not know the Latin word for rabbit.

They believed that people would not waste their time and money on a killer rabbit picture.

Idiom: “A fool and his money are soon parted.”

Well, here we are at least 47 years after the release of NIGHT OF THE LEPUS and I received a DVD copy of the film for an early Christmas present. It’s a gift that’s already kept on giving.

On first re-watch, I enjoyed NIGHT OF THE LEPUS all over again and I actually enjoyed it more at the age of 41 being able to see all its flaws more clearly than when I first watched the film in late prepubescence. I enjoyed all the melodramatic efforts to make the rabbits scary (especially the bloody aftermath of rabbits on the rampage scenes), all the scientific mumbo-jumbo, all the scenes of the rabbits on their attack route (Pamplona with rabbits and no people), all the blatantly obvious set-ups for blatantly obvious payoffs, the ridiculous final plan to exterminate the rabbits and restore natural order, and I especially loved watching the all-star cast diligently keep a straight face through all the silliness and earn their paychecks.

It’s still a notch below such contemporaneous classics as FROGS, GODZILLA VS. THE SMOG MONSTER, and INVASION OF THE BEE GIRLS.

Class of 1984 (1982)

CLASS OF 1984

CLASS OF 1984 (1982) Three-and-a-half stars

Given its exploitation film content including gore, nudity, profanity, sex, and violence, CLASS OF 1984 will not be shown to new teachers or substitute teachers any school year soon.

Not that it should, but a little independent research never hurt anybody.

I don’t remember, though, if I first watched CLASS OF 1984 during or after my three years as substitute teacher in the late 00s. However, I do remember that it made a strong impact with its story of how an idealistic music teacher eventually gives into the dark side and murders his most unruly students at an inner city high school. It’s definitely the movie to see after DANGEROUS MINDS, LEAN ON ME, all that feel good uplifting claptrap.

Watching CLASS OF 1984 again in a decade since I substituted, it still brings on memories of the little punks who threatened violence, who said they would sue, who just ran their mouths incessantly, and who made getting through another day feel like an endurance contest from Hell. For every good student, it often seemed like there were two or three or twenty bad ones in every class. “I would love to punch you in the face,” one junior high student said. “Go ahead, give it your best shot,” the substitute teacher said. Thankfully, not every day substitute teaching was quite like that.

In that spirit, though, we return to our regularly scheduled review of CLASS OF 1984.

Be warned: This is a rough little movie, a nasty piece of work at times, but if you can make it through scenes like the biology teacher’s murdered rabbits and the rape of the music teacher’s wife, this 1982 update on the 1955 classic BLACKBOARD JUNGLE does have its merits.

The performances help lift this film above mere exploitation trash: Perry King as the music teacher, Roddy McDowall as the biology teacher, Timothy Van Patten as every teacher’s worst nightmare, and Michael J. Fox (in an early role) as one of the good students.

King makes for a likable protagonist and takes us from one end of the picture to the next. We are behind him every step of the way, and that’s critical during the film’s violent final act as enough has become more than enough for this music teacher. Those damn punks go too far, far enough for at least a couple exploitation films. Roger Ebert called the climax a cross between THE HUNCHBACK OF NOTRE DAME and BEYOND THE VALLEY OF THE DOLLS.

McDowall (1928-98) had a knack for supporting performances that almost steal a movie away from their nominal stars, and he displays that knack here in CLASS OF 1984, especially when he cracks and teaches his biology class by gunpoint. I bet you’ll remember how many chambers are in the human heart with a gun pointed at you, and I also bet that Richard Kiley (from BLACKBOARD JUNGLE) wishes he could have got a scene like that after the punks in his film had their way with his favorite jazz records. Damn kids, damn punks.

[Review resumed about two weeks later.]

To work properly, this genre requires a repugnant piece of work going up against the hero and Van Patten certainly provides that as teenage antagonist Peter Stegman. Audiences have been known to cheer his demise. Stegman’s personality profile on Villains Wiki, “A totally violent, sadistic, ruthless and mentally unstable teenager. He will hurt anyone who he thinks is threatening his authority over the school, or he will also kill them with no remorse or regrets.” In a different movie, Stegman’s piano-playing ability would have been exploited for a different kind of feel-good ending, not one where you feel good the bastard’s dead.

You can see why Fox became a superstar, even in a supporting performance.

CLASS OF 1984 director Mark L. Lester also directed TRUCK STOP WOMEN, WHITE HOUSE MADNESS, BOBBIE JO AND THE OUTLAW, GOLD OF THE AMAZON WOMEN, ROLLER BOOGIE, FIRESTARTER, and COMMANDO. Now, that’s some filmography and I’ll say that it’s close (real close) between CLASS OF 1984 and COMMANDO for his best work.

A movie like this needs a proper soundtrack.

Nearly two decades before AMERICAN GRAFFITI, BLACKBOARD JUNGLE made waves with its use of Bill Haley and the Comets’ “Rock Around the Clock.” What an opener!

Alice Cooper provides “I Am the Future” for CLASS OF 1984. Mr. Cooper has the ideal credentials for scoring a teenage rebellion pic: specifically “I’m Eighteen,” “School’s Out,” and “Teenage Lament ‘74” from his glory days. As far as mid-period solo Alice standards go, “I Am the Future” does not quite measure up against 1980’s “Clones” and 1983’s “I Love America,” but it still far surpasses Alice’s late 80s and early 90s hair metal period.

CLASS OF 1984 belongs to a branch of entertainment that includes such notables as not only BLACKBOARD JUNGLE but also BEYOND THE VALLEY OF THE DOLLS, OVER THE EDGE, ROCK ‘N’ ROLL HIGH SCHOOL, RIVER’S EDGE, and PUMP UP THE VOLUME, as well as the “Smells Like Teen Spirit” video.

The Thing with Two Heads (1972)

THE THING WITH TWO HEADS (1972) Three stars

Former NFL player Rosey Grier and 1946 Academy Award for Best Actor winner Ray Milland are the two heads. Let’s get that out of the way right from the start.

Top-billed Milland plays a brilliant scientist with terminal cancer who finds trial success with a two-headed gorilla (Rick Baker’s preparation for KING KONG). He comes up with a diabolical scheme to keep on living. Just like Spinal Tap lead singer David St. Hubbins once said, “It’s such a fine line between stupid, and clever.”

Second-billed Grier plays a convicted murderer on Death Row who has volunteered his body to medical science.

Doctors transplant Milland’s head onto Grier’s body, since both are running out of time. Maybe the wrong Grier, because just imagine Milland’s head, for example, on Pam Grier’s body. Now, that would be interesting. American International Pictures could have made it happen, at least for a sequel, but unfortunately it’s too late since Milland passed away in 1986.

You might not believe this, but Grier’s Jack Moss is an innocent man and Milland’s Maxwell Kirshner is an unapologetic racist. Try and imagine a TV show where they put Archie Bunker’s head on George Jefferson’s body.

Honestly, I don’t think THE THING WITH TWO HEADS takes off until it gets Milland and Grier out of the hospital and into the open after their transplant. That’s about the halfway point of the picture, when they kidnap black doctor Fred Williams (Don Marshall) and Moss and Kirshner both do their best negotiating to get the good doctor on their side. They both face challenges, in Moss being on Death Row and Kirshner being an unrepentant bigot. They both want the other head removed.

THE THING WITH TWO HEADS devotes several minutes to a chase scene with many police cars in hot pursuit of a “two-headed monster.” You really have not lived until you see this chase, especially after Grier and Milland commandeer a motor bike, make their way through a race course, and evade 14 crashing police cars en route to a safe haven. These policemen are incredibly incompetent: They cannot shoot, cannot drive, and cannot even close a trunk on their downtrodden squad cars. Yes, they do drive, but just look at their end results. Like a test reel for SMOKEY AND THE BANDIT and THE BLUES BROTHERS.

Milland plays basically the same character that he does in FROGS, another 1972 production from American International; FROGS came out on March 10 and THE THING WITH TWO HEADS on July 19. Milland sinks his teeth into the dialogue in both films and he gives off the feeling of an unhappy camper in both performances, but it works for his characters. Reportedly, Milland sweated so much during the production of FROGS, filmed in the Everglades, that his toupee fell off several times; additionally, he hated the production so much that he left it three days early.

Grier, meanwhile, has lived an interesting life to say the least and a starring role as one of the heads in THE THING WITH TWO HEADS barely scratches at the surface of that life, believe it or not. Grier played college football at Penn State and then professionally for the New York Giants and the Los Angeles Rams from 1955 through 1966. He served as a bodyguard for Robert Kennedy during the 1968 presidential campaign and it was Grier who subdued assassin Sirhan Sirhan. Grier hosted a TV show, enjoyed a recording career, became an ordained minister, spoke at the 1984 Republican National Convention, and entertained running for the Governor of California in 2018, lest we forget Grier’s 1973 book “Rosey Grier’s Needlepoint for Men.” He’s the last living member of the Rams’ “Fearsome Foursome,” a defensive line that included Deacon Jones (1938-2013) and Merlin Olsen (1940-2010).

Grier even gets to show off his singing ability just a little bit in the final moments of THE THING WITH TWO HEADS and let’s just say that, of course, the film ends on “Oh Happy Day.” It is just that kind of a movie.

NOTE: I would assign the film’s trailer four stars. It is 2 minutes, 21 seconds of greatness, especially with that dynamite opening line “It seemed like a good idea at the time,” which might just be exactly what many people have said after seeing THE THING WITH TWO HEADS.

Shrek (2001)

SHREK (2001) Four stars

I recently watched SHREK for the who knows how many times and it was every bit as fun as it was the first time all those years ago.

Watching it was just like catching up with an old friend who you have not seen in a long time. Sometimes, that’s a delightful experience as two people do not miss a beat despite the passing of time. Once in a while, it’s just two people in a room who have nothing to say to each other one way or the other. I connected with SHREK all over again.

There’s so many great characters, old friends if you will, in SHREK and I think that, more than anything else, is the secret to its success.

We might as well as start with the title character. The name Shrek itself calls to mind the surname Schreck, the German actor who played Dracula in the F.W. Murnau silent classic NOSFERATU (1922). Schreck means “a feeling of fear or alarm.” Ogre means a man-eating giant in folklore and a cruel or terrifying person in reality. None of those definitions fit the title character in SHREK, who thankfully is more of an ogre with a heart of gold than a man-eating giant. Granted, Shrek would just rather be left alone in his swamp, at least at the beginning of the picture. His privacy’s besieged upon first by a single annoyance and then by a slew of fairy tale characters who have been driven from their kingdom. Eventually, he takes on the assignment of slaying a dragon and rescuing a princess from an outsourcing overlord.

Princess Fiona is not the average princess and, for that matter, Dragon is not the average dragon. Of course, this is not a Disney picture, it’s a DreamWorks extravaganza, and the scene where Fiona unleashes her inner martial artist on Monsieur Robin Hood and his Merry Men proved to be a game changer for animated princesses. I could have lived without the MATRIX reference, since it seemed like every other picture made in the early 2000s referenced THE MATRIX, but it was a pleasant surprise to see her kick ass. She has even more surprises in store, especially for Shrek.

Surprises are SHREK in a nutshell, which puts entertaining and fresh spins and variations on durable storytelling traditions or that’s just another way of saying that SHREK breathed fresh life into fairy tale stories. It will remind viewers of THE PRINCESS BRIDE.

In other words, at times, SHREK absolutely skewers fairy tales. I mean, there’s the delightful scene where antagonist Lord Farquaad tortures the Gingerbread Man for information about the whereabouts of all his fellow fairy tale brothers and sisters. What will it take to make him crack? Lord Farquaad makes a move toward the Gingerbread Man’s gumdrop buttons and that’s going way, way, way too far. That’s a fun scene, and there’s probably about 50 more fun scenes in SHREK.

Children and adults both enjoy SHREK, and that’s because there’s jokes only more experienced viewers will understand. For example, when Shrek observes that Lord Farquaad must be overcompensating for something, we adults know what’s that something. SHREK is a film truly for the entire family, capable of placating the smart ass teenager, the lover of fairy tales and/or musicals, and the grumpy old man to name three demographics.

We have mentioned Lord Farquaad a couple times already in this review, and he makes for a great villain. He’s voiced by John Lithgow, who brings his expertise from live-action villainous roles in BLOW OUT, RAISING CAIN, and CLIFFHANGER. He’s one of those actors who we love to hate. This is also the same Lithgow, by the way, who released “John Lithgow’s Kid-Size Concert” on VHS in 1990, advertised on the box as “Award winning actor JOHN LITHGOW sings and strums his favorite songs for kids.”

If there’s a hero (and a leading lady and a villain), invariably there must be a loyal sidekick for the hero and that’s filled in SHREK by Donkey, voiced by Eddie Murphy. Donkey, of course, exists in sharp contrast to Shrek, meaning that he’s a motormouth who eventually wears down the resistance of the big ogre. Donkey even finds himself a very unlikely love interest.

Until now, I have skipped Mike Myers and Cameron Diaz, who voice Shrek and Princess Fiona. They were not the original choices. Nicolas Cage passed on the title character at one point and Chris Farley recorded nearly all of his lines as Shrek, but Farley died of a drug overdose before he could finish. SHREK paired Farley with Janeane Garofalo as Princess Fiona, but she was fired without an explanation after his death. Shrek and Fiona each received a rewrite and personality changes after the personnel changes to Myers and Diaz, and Myers finally decided upon his trademark Scottish accent for one of his three iconic characters (Wayne and Austin Powers the other two) … hard to imagine Shrek without one at this point. In fact, it’s hard to imagine Myers, Diaz, Murphy, and Lithgow not voicing their respective characters.

SHREK spawned a new wave of computer animated pictures built upon pop-culture references and just being too darn clever for their own darn good, including its own increasingly lackluster sequels (I stopped at SHREK THE TURD, er, SHREK THE THIRD). Apparently, there’s a reboot or sequel named SHREK 5 slated for 2022.

Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory (1971)

WILLY WONKA

WILLY WONKA & THE CHOCOLATE FACTORY (1971) Three-and-a-half stars

Over the years, many individual performers have walked away with a movie and made it their own. For example, Gene Wilder in WILLY WONKA & THE CHOCOLATE FACTORY.

Wilder provides one of the great movie entrances at about the 45-minute mark of the picture and it’s about darn time because it’s a bit of a slog before we reach the chocolate factory. Our expectations are very high by this point in the picture and Wilder’s Willy Wonka meets and even surpasses them. It was Wilder himself who insisted that he make such an entrance.

“When I make my first entrance, I’d like to come out of the door carrying a cane and then walk toward the crowd with a limp,” Wilder said. “After the crowd sees Willy Wonka is a cripple, they all whisper to themselves and then become deathly quiet. As I walk toward them, my cane sinks into one of the cobblestones I’m walking on and stands straight up, by itself; but I keep on walking, until I realize that I no longer have my cane. I start to fall forward, and just before I hit the ground, I do a beautiful forward somersault and bounce back up, to great applause.”

This entrance establishes Wonka’s unpredictability right from the start.

Wilder magnificently expresses all the sides of Willy Wonka’s personality. It turns on a dime from joy and wonder to malevolent anger at the selfish children who found their golden ticket in a Wonka bar. Their golden tickets earned the children a pass to Wonka’s factory. The five children are Augustus Gloop, Veruca Salt, Violet Beauregarde, Mike Teavee, and Charlie Bucket and they are each joined by one parent or grandparent in the case of final ticket winner Charlie Bucket. The bad children are punished in unspeakable, horrifying ways for their indiscretions. That’ll show ‘em and serves ‘em right, greedy little bastards.

When the beloved Wilder died in 2016 at the age of 83, I thought immediately of his performance as Willy Wonka and his spotlight song “Pure Imagination,” a number written by the British duo of Leslie Bricusse and Anthony Newley. “If you want to view paradise / Simply look around and view it / Anything you want to do it / Wanna change the world / There’s nothing to it / There is no life I know / To compare with pure imagination / Living there you’ll be free / If you truly wish to be.” At its very, very best, WILLY WONKA approaches THE WIZARD OF OZ and Wilder’s on par with Margaret Hamilton and Frank Morgan and gang. They all share a certain joy of performance that’s wonderful to behold.

Like THE WIZARD OF OZ, WILLY WONKA undoubtedly introduced multitudes of children to scary movies. The Haunted Forest, the Wicked Witch of the West, flying monkeys, et cetera, in the 1939 film and the Oompa-Loompas and the boat ride in WILLY WONKA.

“Charlie and the Chocolate Factory” author Roald Dahl (1916-90) absolutely hated the 1971 screen adaptation. Dahl received credit for writing the screenplay, but it was the uncredited David Seltzer who came in and made script changes that raised Dahl’s ire.

What did Mr. Dahl hate about the picture? The shift in focus from Charlie to Willy Wonka. Check. The musical numbers. Check. Casting Gene Wilder rather than Spike Milligan, Dahl’s stated preference. Check. Guess the question should be changed to what didn’t Mr. Dahl hate about WILLY WONKA. This whole situation reminds one that Stephen King hates Stanley Kubrick’s THE SHINING.

I saw WILLY WONKA for the first time in fifth grade (1990) and read Dahl’s novel the next school year. I loved Dahl’s novel, but I have not read it since completing it during sixth grade, roughly the same age as the precocious golden ticket winners. Meanwhile, I have seen the 1971 version several times since that first encounter nearly three decades ago, on cable TV (Teavee), VHS, and DVD. I do think of the film more often than I do the book, and I believe that it has almost everything to do with the Wilder performance.

I have skipped Tim Burton’s 2005 adaptation CHARLIE & THE CHOCOLATE FACTORY & I just remember being appalled from the start by still photographs of Johnny Depp’s take on Willy Wonka. Remember that scene in ANIMAL HOUSE when the older members of Delta Tau Chi pelt that picture of pledge Flounder with beer cans? That’s about how I feel every time I see a picture of Depp as Wonka. (Generally speaking, I have no problem with Burton and Depp movies. I love ED WOOD and like SLEEPY HOLLOW and SWEENEY TODD a lot.)

In a 2013 interview with Turner Classic Movies host Robert Osborne (1932-2017), Wilder shared his true feelings on the 2005 version.

“I think it’s an insult,” he said. “Johnny Depp, I think, is a good actor, but I don’t care for that director [Tim Burton]. He’s a talented man, but I don’t care for him doing stuff like he did.”

The Wizard of Oz (1939)

THE WIZARD OF OZ (1939) Four stars

I watched THE WIZARD OF OZ for the first time since my Grandma died and the experience naturally brought on a lot of precious memories.

After all, I watched THE WIZARD OF OZ for the first (and second and third …) time at my Grandma’s house. She loved the movie and every now and then, she also talked about how many times she went to the movies to watch GONE WITH THE WIND. It was several, and I can remember hearing the delight in her voice just talking about it. She turned 10 years old in 1939, one of Hollywood’s hallowed years with MGM productions THE WIZARD OF OZ and GONE WITH THE WIND headlining. GONE WITH THE WIND was the TITANIC of its day, but a 4-hour historical soap opera did not enter my priority list until college. I watched THE WIZARD OF OZ a good dozen times before I got through GONE WITH THE WIND even once.

It was the CBS broadcast of THE WIZARD OF OZ that we watched together and the first time I can remember it I must have been 8 years old. Like IT’S A WONDERFUL LIFE, THE WIZARD OF OZ became an annual TV event for generations of Americans. I first watched IT’S A WONDERFUL LIFE at my Grandma’s house and it assumed the position of a holiday tradition for many years. I want to say that IT’S A WONDERFUL LIFE played on the local NBC affiliate.

Seeing THE WIZARD OF OZ for the 20th or 30th or 40th or 50th time (I lost track) in my life before this review, I found myself singing the songs, yes, every single line of every single darn song, but the most pleasure I experienced came from imitating the Wicked Witch of the West (Margaret Hamilton). I mean, I doubt that anybody who’s ever watched THE WIZARD OF OZ can resist imitating her voice on the all-time classic line “I’ll get you, my little pretty, and your little dog, too.” Hamilton virtually steals the movie and she’s so much more fun than that darn Glinda the Good Witch (Billie Burke), whose goodness decreases over time.

The Wicked Witch finished in fourth place on the American Film Institute’s top 50 villains list (2003), behind Hannibal Lecter, Norman Bates, and Darth Vader and ahead of Nurse Ratched, Mr. Potter, Alex Forrest, Phyllis Dietrichson, Regan MacNeil (when possessed), and the Evil Queen in the top 10.

Ironically enough, Hamilton served as a school teacher before her acting career. She became known for terrifying children … but she retained a lifelong commitment to education.

I wish I could have met Hamilton (1902-85).

“Almost always they want me to laugh like the Witch,” she said. “And sometimes when I go to schools, if we’re in an auditorium, I’ll do it. And there’s always a funny reaction, like they wish they hadn’t asked. They’re scared. They’re really scared for a second. Even adolescents. I guess for a minute they get the feeling they got when they watched the picture. They like to hear it but they don’t like to hear it. And then they go, ‘Oh…’ The picture made a terrible impression of some kind on them, sometimes a ghastly impression, but most of them got over it, I guess. … Because when I talk like the Witch and when I laugh, there is a hesitation, and then they clap. They’re clapping at hearing the sound again.”

THE WIZARD OF OZ served as many people’s introduction to scary movies. (Throw in classic Disney films SNOW WHITE and PINOCCHIO, as well, both of which I remember first watching during roughly the same period as when I first watched THE WIZARD OF OZ.)

Not only the Wicked Witch, but also somebody wanting to take your pet away, running away from home, a tornado, them flying monkeys, et cetera, they’re all terrifying, especially to a small child watching it for the first time. (Please consider the film left out the most gruesome details from the L. Frank Baum source material.)

THE WIZARD OF OZ shows us how much fun it can be to be scared.

That’s just one way the film reaches us.

Hamilton herself talked about its seemingly everlasting appeal.

“THE WIZARD OF OZ keeps coming back every year,” she said, “because it’s such a beautiful film. I don’t think any of us knew how lovely it was at first. But, after a while, we all began to feel it coming together and knew we had something. I can watch it again and again and remember wonderful Judy, Bert, Ray, Jack, Billie, Frank and how wonderful they all were. The scene that always gets to me, though, and I think it’s one of the most appealing scenes I’ve ever seen, is the one where the Wizard gives the gifts to them at the end. Frank (Morgan) was just like that as a person. And every time I see him do it, the tears come to my eyes. I listen to the words. I think of Frank, and I know how much he meant what he said, and how much the words themselves mean.”

I devoted much space to Hamilton and the Wicked Witch, but there are at least six more beloved characters and performers: Dorothy Gale (Judy Garland, 1922-69), the Scarecrow (Ray Bolger, 1904-87), the Tin Man (Jack Haley, 1898-1979), the Cowardly Lion (Bert Lahr, 1895-1967), Toto (Terry, 1933-45), and the Wizard (Frank Morgan, 1890-1949). They go a long way toward making THE WIZARD OF OZ a classic that will persevere down the ages.

On this latest go-around, I again noticed how much of an influence WIZARD OF OZ had on George Lucas when he made STAR WARS.

THE WIZARD OF OZ grabs us early on, precisely at the moment when Garland begins singing “Over the Rainbow,” and it just builds and builds for the next 90-odd minutes.

Eighty years after it premiered (Aug. 25, 1939), I now have one more reason to watch it moving forward. Grandma, it felt like you were right there with me.

APE (1976)

A*P*E (1976) One-half star

Finally, now I can mark this one off the bucket list.

I have wanted to watch A*P*E ever since I bought an used copy of John Wilson’s “The Official Razzie Movie Guide” more than 12 years ago. The infamous shot of the man-in-a-suit ape flying the middle finger graces the front cover of the book and of course, I surrendered the hardly-earned on that beautiful book. Wilson wrote of the ape suit, “(It) looks more like your grandmother’s lamb’s wool coat collar than an actual simian.”

On December 2, 2019, a date that will live in Internet infamy, I watched A*P*E and it was even worse than I thought possible, believe it or not. Not sure why it even received a half-star.

This joint South Korean and American production cost an incredible $23,000, including a reported $1,200 for miniatures, and they filmed this 87-minute craptacular in a mere 14 days. Please keep in mind that Robert Rodriguez made EL MARIACHI for $7,000, so I am not knocking A*P*E because of its budget.

It was a quickie exploitation picture designed to cash in on the much hyped KING KONG released in late 1976. A*P*E originally announced itself as THE NEW KING KONG, but RKO filed a $1.5 million suit against Kukje Movies, the Lee Ming Film Co., and Worldwide Entertainment, the producers of A*P*E. They changed the title to APE (we are no longer stylizing a title of a movie with very, very, very little style) and added the tag “Not to be confused with KING KONG.”

APE (a.k.a. “Attacking Primate monstEr”) is so bad that it makes KING KONG ‘76 look much, much, much better.

Let’s start taking down APE flaw by flaw.

Prerequisite screen ingenue Marilyn Baker (Joanna Kerns) and reporter Tom Rose (Rod Arrants) suck face through a lot of APE. I mean, get a room, for crying out loud. When they’re not sucking face, their mouths are utilized for uttering mushy-mouthed dialogue so bad that we prefer them sucking face.

There’s a scene where Miss Baker screams for what feels like an eternity. She probably screams more during this scene than Fay Wray, Jessica Lange, and Naomi Watts did in all their scenes combined in their respective KONG movies.

Between Miss Baker’s screams and two Korean children laughing for another eternity, I was blessed to not have a pencil nearby, because it’s quite possible that I would have grabbed it and jabbed both my eardrums until I could no longer hear.

I love how when they’re evacuating South Korean cities, the voice over the loud speakers speaks English. Guess that’s how imperialism works and this cheap KING KONG rip-off was the cinematic wing.

I shall regroup here and move away from imperialism. They filmed APE in 3-D and even if we did not know that coming in, we could figure it out for ourselves very quickly considering all the objects coming at us, including arrows, boulders, and that infamous middle finger.

The title character not only looks like a shoddy rug, but it is very distracting when he changes in size from scene-to-scene. He’s supposed to be 36 feet tall, but we don’t believe it for a single fleeting second.

In an early scene, the ape kills a shark, just another jab at JAWS. APE joins a club that includes GIANT SPIDER INVASION, THE HILLS HAVE EYES, and ORCA THE KILLER WHALE.

APE arrived in theaters in October ‘76, beating KING KONG by two months. That’s the only thing APE had on KING KONG.