Tag: Carol Burnett

We Had Ourselves a Real Good Time: Blacula, Dolemite, TNT Jackson, The Devil and Max Devlin

WE HAD OURSELVES A REAL GOOD TIME: BLACULA, DOLEMITE, TNT JACKSON, THE DEVIL AND MAX DEVLIN
Max Schreck, Bela Lugosi, Carlos Villarias, Lon Chaney Jr., John Carradine, Christopher Lee, Klaus Kinski, George Hamilton, Frank Langella, Gary Oldman, and Leslie Nielsen.

That’s a lot of bared fangs, deadly stares, and spectacular deaths over the decades.

Fair warning: Best get outta here with that Tom Cruise, Gerard Butler, Robert Pattinson bull.

Blacula star William Marshall deserves his rightful place among the best screen vampires. For example, he’s definitely better than, oh, let’s say, Carradine, who played Dracula in House of Frankenstein, House of Dracula, and Billy the Kid vs. Dracula and often looked like somebody had squeezed some fresh lemon juice in his eyes. A few months after Marshall debuted as Black Dracula, Lee appeared in his sixth Dracula film — cleverly titled Dracula A.D. 1972 — and Lee’s spiraling lack of enthusiasm for the role that made him famous bites you right smack dab in the neck.

With his booming voice, commanding screen presence, and legitimate acting chops, Marshall (1924-2003) owns Blacula and makes it infinitely better than some cruddy hunk of cinematic junk like Blackenstein. He brings an unexpected dignity to what might otherwise have been a throwaway film.

Rating: Three stars.

— I enjoyed Dolemite a whole lot more than Disco Godfather, my first Rudy Ray Moore experience, and not only because I’m now calling the former picture Boom Mic Motherfucker.

Disco Godfather lost me by about the millionth or maybe it was by the billionth time Moore (1927-2008) exclaimed Put your weight on it, a slogan that needless to say would not be adopted or adapted by 1980 U.S. Presidential candidates Jimmy Carter, Ronald Reagan, and John B. Anderson. Despite the fact that it tried cultivating a social conscience, Disco Godfather needed some weight put on it, because it was the cinematic equivalent of an anorexic crackhead.

Moore has been called The Godfather of Rap and both Dolemite and the character himself almost instantly serve notice why. Jailbird Dolemite’s first lines are Oh, shit. What the hell does that rat-soup-eatin’ motherfucker want with me? One could play a reasonable drinking game with how many times Dolemite utters motherfucker in the movie, because it’s not every time Cheech & Chong say Man in Up in Smoke (reportedly 285 times) or everybody says Carol Anne in Poltergeist III (121). You won’t get wasted, best shit you ever tasted, from Dolemite. You’ll probably feel pretty good and the alcohol will help laughter.

The plot: Dolemite gets released from prison and fights the criminals and corrupt police officers who sent our favorite cinematic pimp up the river in the first place. Really, though, Dolemite is about the profanity, fight scenes, female (we’ll forget about the male) nudity, and complete utter ridiculousness, all of it done over-the-top. Never mind that it’s a time capsule into Bicentennial-Era America filed right alongside Dog Day Afternoon.

To be honest, though, I was distracted from the plot and everything else by the unpaid co-star Boom Mic Visible, who’s absolutely the funniest motherfucker in Dolemite. According to IMDb, The boom mic is visible in many shots of original Xenon VHS to DVD transfer from the 1980s. The film was originally transferred without the proper ratio ‘gate’ of 1:85.1, revealing more of the top and bottom of the frame than the film makers originally intended. The 2016 Vinegar Syndrome Bluray release was re-transferred from an archive print of the film, at the proper ratio, so the boom mics are hidden in many shots. The Bluray release also includes a ‘boom mic’ version of the new transfer, intentionally revealing the boom mics for comic effect.

Now we know.

The actor John Kerry (not that John Kerry) played Detective Mitchell in Dolemite and it’s a missed opportunity that nobody ever asked 2008 U.S. Presidential Candidate John Kerry about his experiences making Dolemite, what Rudy Ray Moore was really like, etc. That’s a real shame.

Rating: Three stars.

— TNT Jackson is definitely not a good movie, but I am still feeling a certain lingering affection for it that other (better) movies wish they could make me feel for them.

What else could be said about some of the worst martial arts sequences ever committed to celluloid, from the very first fists and feet of fury scene all the way to the grand finale. Would you believe punches and kicks that do not connect but still inflict damage? Would you believe the heroine could punch right through the villain? Well, prepare yourself for TNT Jackson.

TNT Jackson falls short of the standard established by similar pictures Coffy and Cleopatra Jones, because, let’s face it, TNT Jackson star Jeannie Bell falls below Pam Grier and Tamara Dobson, respectively. Sure, former playmate and bunny Bell looks absolutely stunning with her great hair, great face, and great body, but she can’t act her way out of a paper bag and we don’t really believe that she could fight her way out of one if she wasn’t the star of the movie. Miss Jackson and her inevitable white chick nemesis (Pat Anderson) wage what’s possibly the worst cat fight ever in the history of the movies. It’s a doozy, and that describes the vast majority of the 72-minute TNT Jackson. Yes, that’s right, 72 minutes, a genuine throwback.

The late, great character actor Dick Miller (1928-2019) earned a screenwriting credit on TNT Jackson, but apparently producer Roger Corman had it rewritten by Ken Metcalfe, who plays the sleazy sub-villain Sid in TNT. Miller does not appear in TNT Jackson.

It’s amazing TNT Jackson romantic lead and main villain Stan Shaw did not get The Sensational, Smooth, Suave, Sophisticated, Stunning Stan Shaw for his screen credit, but maybe just maybe that’s because he overplays his smooth, suave, sophisticated ways so much that we’re tired of his jive real quick. Heck, even Shaw’s afro overplays it throughout TNT Jackson. I’ve not seen this much overacting by hair since, oh, let’s see, Chu Chu and the Philly Flash or maybe I’m mixing up Carol Burnett’s decorative head cover (wait, that’s just part of her costume) with her maracas.

Basically, I can’t hate too much on TNT Jackson like I do Chu Chu (more like Poo Poo and the Poopy Gas), since director Cirio H. Santiago remade TNT a few years later as Firecracker and substituted (white) Jillian Kesner for Bell in the title role. Both movies have similar plot elements, namely infamous topless fights, and Metcalfe in a similar role, but Firecracker does it better.

After watching TNT Jackson, I could not help but gravitate toward AC/DC’s song and the chorus ‘Cause I’m T.N.T., I’m dynamite / T.N.T., and I’ll win the fight / T.N.T., I’m a power load / T.N.T., watch me explode. Bonus points for TNT Jackson, ones that keep it from a two-star rating.

The best version of TNT Jackson is the two-minute promotional trailer put together by Joe Dante and Allan Arkush for New World Pictures circa 1974 or 1975. The voice-over narration takes it to greatness: TNT Jackson, Black Bombshell with a Short Fuse! This Hit Lady’s Charm Will Break Both Your Arms! She’s a One-Mama Massacre Squad! TNT’s Mad and That’s Real Bad! With That Dynamite Bod She’s a Jet Black Hit Squad! A Super Soul Sister and a Bad News Brother Under Cover and Out to Blast a Killer Army That’s Poisoning the People with Deadly China White! You Best Pay the Fine or She’ll Shatter Your Spine! Black Chinatown, Where Flesh is Cheap and Life is Cheaper! TNT Jackson, She’ll Put You in Traction!

Rating: Two-and-a-half stars. Trailer: Four stars.

— Before The Devil and Max Devlin, it had no doubt been a long time since Walt Disney Studios depicted Hell in one of their films.

For example, Hell’s Bells from 1929 and Pluto’s Judgement Day from 1935 leap first to mind, two animated shorts that might blow people’s minds who normally associate animation with cute-and-cuddly innocuous fare at this late point in history.

To be fair to the older films, which are both far superior to the main film currently under consideration, feature length The Devil and Max Devlin doesn’t spend a lot of time in Hell.

Well, actually, according to some former President, right, aren’t California and Hell the same?

I wonder, given the subject matter and the presence of Bill Cosby in one of the starring roles, if The Devil and Max Devlin will go or has already gone the way of the controversial, divisive Song of the South — suppressed for seeming eternity by the folks at Disney. I found them both in the dark, dank recesses of the Internet and I hope that I won’t go to jail or Hell for either cultural sin.

Anyway, I like the locations (especially Hell) and I like the high concepts behind The Devil and Max Devlin like a slumlord trying to save his soul by giving the bad guys three unsullied souls and it turned out to be perfect casting to have Cosby in the role of the Devil’s helper, but the movie gets so bogged down in plot details that it evolves into a real slog and we just want more than anything else in the world at the moment for the movie to finally be over. At least, if nothing else, that’s how The Devil and Max Devlin made me feel watching it.

Rating: Two-and-a-half stars.

Calling All Cars, We Have a 412! Calling All Cars!

CALLING ALL CARS, WE HAVE A 412! CALLING ALL CARS!
I watched Chu Chu and the Philly Flash on March 7 and 18 days later, I can still hear it, that’s for sure, especially co-stars Alan Arkin and Carol Burnett and supporting player Danny Aiello.

Burnett plays Chu Chu, or Emily as only her dearest friends know her, who performs this Carmen Miranda routine out in the streets. Her performance gives one all the maracas needed for at least one year, perhaps even one lifetime. Emily used to be a successful entertainer, before the booze got to her. We all know the story by now.

Arkin, meanwhile, plays the Philly Flash, given that name not because of his ability to shed his raincoat but his former ability turning double plays at second base for the Philadelphia Phillies. Was he named the Philly Flash just because the real-life Phillies won the World Series in 1980? Anyway, just like Emily, booze got to Flash, not Grandmaster Flash (think I’d rather watch The Adventures of Grandmaster Flash on the Wheels of Steel than Chu Chu and the Philly Flash) or Flash Gordon (who just had a movie, a much better one believe it or not, come out in 1980) or The Flash. No, the Philly Flash’s power, like Chu Chu’s, seems to be that he can scream and carry on a whole lot. In fact, that’s about both all they ever do in Chu Chu and the Philly Flash.

Not sure that it even matters or not if Burnett played the Philly Flash and Arkin drew Chu Chu. They could have made him a former professional golfer and her a former burlesque entertainer or something. Yeah, like Bill Murray said in Meatballs, it doesn’t even matter.

Government secrets fall, yes, literally fall into the hands of Philly Flash and Chu Chu. Well, technically, not right into their hands, I mean they did have to walk over and pick up the briefcase. By the way, the briefcase gives the best performance in Chu Chu and the Philly Flash, since even the maracas overact.

Rating: One-half star.

— Earlier in the same day I watched Chu Chu and the Philly Flash, I endured Goldengirl about basically a genetically engineered super female runner and it co-stars James Coburn, Robert Culp, Curt Jurgens, Leslie Caron, Jessica Walter, Michael Lerner, and Harry Guardino.

They’re all fine and dandy, more or less, but it’s star Susan Anton who ruins Goldengirl every single time she expresses any emotion. Guess they can’t genetically engineer the ability to act and the ability to not wreck an entire movie, because Anton can’t act and she absolutely obliterates Goldengirl every single time I wanted to give it another chance.

Give her one thing, though, because just like Donny and Marie Osmond in their motion picture debut and finale Goin’ Coconuts, Anton does have a great set of teeth. Outside her canines, incisors, premolars, and molars, though, Anton sucks in Goldengirl and despite the speeded up and slowed down footage, she’s not the least bit convincing as this incredible champion runner.

Anton and Coburn do have one of the great dialogue exchanges in motion picture history, one that could be played right alongside Fini can water you from Yes, Giorgio. She just set a new Olympic record and doesn’t she even deserve a kiss? Coburn works his way toward her magical lips and Anton moves the goalposts. She insists that he kisses her feet, then laughs maniacally, while Coburn, well, maybe he’s wishing that he could get hit upside the head by his old friend Bruce Lee’s one-hit punch again. Lee died in 1973 and Coburn was one of the pallbearers at Lee’s funeral.

The IMDb trivia entry starts out promisingly for Goldengirl, “Produced and theatrically released in 1979 prior to the 1980 Olympics boycott, this film depicts American athletes competing at the Moscow games. In reality, the boycott meant that the USA did not perform there, making the picture post-release anachronistic and historically inaccurate.”

Blame the boycott on Goldengirl.

Rating: One star.

— I watched Under the Rainbow between opener Goldengirl and closer Chu Chu and the Philly Flash.

That’s right, one of the worst movie-watching nights of a lifetime.

Under the Rainbow, like Goldengirl, has at least a far more interesting plot summary than anything else associated with the finished product.

Okay, to be honest, only the part about the 150 little people descending upon Hollywood for a part in The Wizard of Oz (and a wild and crazy party) sounds interesting, then it gets all mucked up when federal agents, fat cats, and Nazi and Japanese spies enter the picture. Anyway, doesn’t 1938 seem too early for Nazi and Japanese spies? I mean, the Nazis didn’t invade Poland until Sept. 1939 and the United States officially remained neutral until late 1941.

Regardless of social class and nationality and historical accuracy, though, all the characters get run through the cinematic claptrap blender at maximum speed with broad, inane slapstick and would-be wacky hijinks the settings. Despite the maximum speed, Under the Rainbow still feels like it takes forever to be done and over. That’s because it’s all played as loudly as possible, of course, with so much mugging on display that it’s another one of those movies where you feel the back of your head for lumps and bruises and then check for your wallet after watching it.

Chevy Chase and Carrie Fisher are the nominal stars, but they’re lost in the crowd because they play it too cool for school. Meanwhile, Billy Barty acts like he’s in three movies simultaneously and Japanese-American actor Mako settles for only two, and their terminal mugging calls to mind the 1942 propaganda comedy short The Devil with Hitler. The Devil with Hitler is better than Under the Rainbow, and I should just leave it at that statement, though I want to end this review with one last cheap shot at three lousy pictures that I wish I would have left buried inside their time capsules.

Stan Freberg would have charged the casts of Chu Chu and the Philly Flash, Goldengirl, and Under the Rainbow with one heinous crime against humanity: a 412. What’s a 412? Over-acting.

Rating: One star.