Reviews

Everyone knows that bio-terror is really a good subject for a wacky slapstick comedy, so it's astonishing that this one, while fairly campy, isn't much fun. People who are "differently-talented" have made films like Eegah! that are wonderfully entertaining because they're unintentionally funny. Trying to make an intentionally funny film with little talent produces only sadness. Witness Nasty Rabbit (aka Spies-A-Go-Go), a comic Cold War espionage caper. The set up is promising enough: the Soviets plan to destroy the U.S. by releasing a biological weapon somewhere along the Continental Divide, Wyoming, perhaps. Spies from many countries descend on a dude ranch where a Russian spy, disguised as a cowboy, has the 'fernacious'(!) bacteria in a vial tied around a rabbit's neck. Thinking this up clearly exhausted the creativity of the writers (and there are three of them!). Minimal thought goes into the rest of the plot and seemingly none into the dialogue. After the set up, the film starts playing for time and fills an hour with every spy hitting every other in the head. You'll get the picture if you imagine a Three Stooges short dragged out for ninety minutes, and with the Stooges replaced by Harry Reid, Mitch McConnell and Nancy Pelosi. No, they would probably be funnier than the lead actors here. The film does have Arch Hall, Jr., (the cabbage-patch Elvis), and Richard Kiel. But don't hope for something as wonderful as Eegah! They do perk up the movie. Kiel appears only briefly and Jr., the titular star, after getting a great build up as a rock-n-roll star-slash-super spy, is woefully underused. And any film that would benefit from more Arch Hall, Jr. really is in bad shape. Still, instead of Arch, the camera focuses on a bunch of unknown, inexperienced and talentless actors as they repeatedly hit each other in the head. I kept wishing the film would cut to the chase and when it did I regretted what I'd wished for. Long after the Soviet Union has gone, this fernacious flick continues to threaten America.

Not being overly familiar with mobster slang, I assumed Racket Girls would be a charming little romp about the Sapphic exploits of tennis stars. You can imagine my delight on discovering that wrestling substituted for tennis and illegal gambling substituted for tennis.

Noted Edwoodian player, Tim Farrell, renders the part of Umberto Scalli, a bookie who uses ladies wrestling as a cover. Unfortunately for Mr. Scalli, he is in big, for 35 big ones, to big time mob boss, Mr. Big, although that name may be an alias. Scalli's erring antics also earn attention from the other Mr. Big, Big Brother. Between fending off the Justice Department and the Mr. Big boys, Scalli nobbles a race horse, romances wrestling hopeful (the porcine Peaches Page), and tries to nobble a wrestling bout - he fails because those athletes evince too much integrity to rig fights. Female wrestling, it seems, was one of the few sports that remained "clean" and, fortunately, still does. And fortunately, Scalli works quickly leaving plenty of time for interminable footage of women grappling.

Racket Girls has a lot about it that is funny, yet not nearly enough to fill an entire movie. Amazingly, bouts between the likes of the Leopard Lady and the Panther Lady are far less thrilling than one would anticipate, and Mike and 'bots struggle to fill the hole with quips, though judging from the cheering on the soundtrack, the crowd at ring-side was going completely insane. Well, it was the fifties and they had no Lady Gaga. The whole affair leaves the impression that women's wrestling in the fifties achieved a glamor only rivaled by men's wrestling in the fifties.

While the main feature drags a bit, the episode as a whole surges on the fairly long short, "Are You Ready for Marriage?" It supplies a feast of cruddy material and the guys rip through it brilliantly. Possibly the funniest short of the entire series.

Skits take off from the film and short, and concern Crow marrying Servo and their wedding ending in a wrestling match. Nice.

If you're like me, and I know I am, then you've often wondered how much footage you could watch of planes refueling before you finally cracked. Luckily, this installment of MST will answer that question for you. If refueling doesn't do the job, Starfighters provides plenty of gripping talking-on-the-telephone-and-radio action to hold you in a vice-like stupor, tightened by the easy-listening jazz sound track.

This is an astonishingly dull movie from a director whose love of close-up shots runs to fetish. These giant head-shots are so startling on the small screen that I can only imagine the trauma they caused people who witnessed them in a movie theater, if, that is, anyone ever did. Director Will Zens can only be said to succeed with this film if he intended it as a metaphor for the sky: vast and largely empty.

If you're like me, and I know I am, then you've often wondered how much footage you could watch of planes refueling before you finally cracked. Luckily, this installment of MST will answer that question for you. If refueling doesn't do the job, Starfighters provides plenty of gripping talking-on-the-telephone-and-radio action to hold you in a vice-like stupor, tightened by the easy-listening jazz sound track.

This is an astonishingly dull movie from a director whose love of close-up shots runs to fetish. These giant head-shots are so startling on the small screen that I can only imagine the trauma they caused people who witnessed them in a movie theater, if, that is, anyone ever did. Director Will Zens can only be said to succeed with this film if he intended it as a metaphor for the sky: vast and largely empty.

With some lifeless movies (e.g., Lost Continent, Skydivers – what is it with the sky!), the SoL crew obviously struggles to beat off lassitude and keep the jokes flowing. Here, Mike and the bots are clearly having fun and easily keep the cracks rolling over this pancake.

The highlight of the episode, though, is the United Servo Men's Academy Chorus conducted by Brigadier Sir Thomas 'Bullhead' Servo. This choral paean to flying, courtesy of many Kevin Murphy overdubs, is both funny and impressive. My favorite MST musical number.

If you've ever wanted to discover why Ed Wood is notorious, this isn't the best film to begin with. Certainly, it is a good example of bad film making, not, though, one of Wood's masterpieces – no rubber monsters, no hubcap spaceships. This is a piece of Wood Realism, much like Sinister Urge.

The plot is coherent though the script poor. Dr. Gregor lives in Southern California and is a 'world famous' plastic surgeon. Such a pursuit must have been far less lucrative in the fifties because he lives in a very modest suburban rancher with his two children, Marylin and Don, who both look well into their thirties. Although the good doctor would buy them anything they wanted – by taking out a second mortgage, perhaps – Don opts for a life of crime with thoroughly bad sort Vic Brady. Needless to say, difficulties arise and the doctor must employ his plastic surgery skills. How different the story might have been if Ed had written Gregor as a proctologist.

All of this is badly acted out by a group of Wood regulars, such as Dolores Fuller and Don Nagel, enhanced by a few interesting additions. Old movie hand, Herbert Rawlinson, plays Gregor, his last role before dying of lung cancer, and he clearly gasps for air to get out his lines. Steve 'Hercules' Reeves has his first speaking role, yet not to waste him Ed has him take off his shirt – one for the ladies and the discerning gentlemen. Brady is played by dependable D-grade movie sleaze, and frequent Woodworker, Tim Farrell.

If you are familiar with Ed's oeuvre or simply like bad films, Jail Bait is great. For a grasp of Ed's magnificence try Plan Nine or Night of the Ghouls first.

Oh, and if you've ever wanted to discover how on earth Minstrel Shows fell out of popularity, watch the comic stylings of Cotton Watts and Chick, included in this film for no particular reason, and that should sate your curiosity. The most horrible thing I've seen in an Ed Wood film, which is really saying something.

Sadly the days when a lone, mad scientist, toiling in the basement of his sinister mansion, could perform miracles over life and death with just a few test tubes and pulsing lights, without thought of glory or patent rights, have been curtailed by the corporate monopoly of science; the simple human desire to revivify the dead, trumped by the thirst for profit. Happily, voodoo has, thus far, eluded the grasping grip of greed (ouch!) and retained its humble individuality.

Voodoo Man returns us to that simpler time when science and magic worked hand in hand. It is another absurd poverty-row horror, filmed in seven days, in case you can't tell, by Bill "One-Shot" Beaudine for Sam Katzman's Monogram Pictures. Lugosi plays Marlowe, another mad scientist with another ailing wife. Indeed this wife is rather more than ailing: for 28 years she has been dead, but not in the sense we understand the word, of course. He tries to reanimate her by transferring to her the life force of abducted female motorists. Marlowe has some impressive technology – an impressive surveillance system, a car disabling ray, and some weird wife maintenance machinery. Still, he isn't one of those finicky skeptics who practice science nowadays. Like the alchemist, he recognizes the potential to improve scientific outcomes by utilizing magic.

This film is sensationally silly especially given the quality of the cast. This may not be Lugosi's most absurd role; unfortunately, the same can't be said for Carradine and Zucco. Carradine plays Toby, Marlowe's jogging, dimwitted henchman, who kidnaps women and doubles as Marlowe's percussion section. His bizarre performance is only over-cast by Zucco who plays Nicholas, gas station proprietor and voodoo priest. Zucco usually brings an air of dignity to the foolish roles he plays but this one is beyond him. While Toby bashes a bongo, Nicholas, in a cheap college gown and "Phyllis Diller wig," chants gibberish at a piece of string in the name of Ramboonya who is, apparently, all powerful. And, to be fair, Nicholas is getting results until meddling relatives and policemen interfere with the ceremonies.

This film has remained too obscure and deserves a far greater audience. Amazing stuff.

No movie seems too awful for someone to claim SoBIG status for it. I suppose we must each draw our own lines in our own way. I think I must draw one here. Bela Lugosi Meets a Brooklyn Gorilla has all the ingredients for a fun D-grade movie – bad script, bad sets, bad acting, a gorilla, etc. However, it is so devoid of any spark of creativity that it offended even my meager aesthetic sense. In the pantheon of soft drinks, if such an erection were ever raised, this film would be decaffeinated, vanilla, diet Crown Cola: a cheap, shameless, tasteless rip-off. It plagiarizes the "Abbott and Costello Meet..." movies and those by that other comedy duo (Lewis and Clark, was it?), and just about anything else it can exploit.

I only watched Bela Lugosi Meets a Brooklyn Gorilla because it had that Dracula guy in it. I forget his name. But the waning Count is only dribbled out for his notoriety and is completely wasted here (although having the seventy-year old Bela pawing Nona, the island maiden, does produce the only moment in the movie that is creepy...but not in the spooky way).

Even given all of this, I may have let BLmaBG slide with three stars -- well, it does have Bela Lugosi AND a gorilla, two actually, and a chimp -- until the ending pushed it under the bottom: They couldn't be bothered to come up with one!

I hope none of this is off putting. I'm sure many people will find this movie SoBig, maybe flat out 'ig,' and de gustibus non est disputandum.

I read the reviews of Three Men in a Boat before watching the film and couldn't believe that it is as bad as most reviewers claim. I mean to say, just look at the cast. Tomlinson, Edwards and Harvey are not a collection of comedic geniuses, perhaps, but surely they amass enough talent to produce an amusing adaptation of this admired novel. However, the negative reviewers are correct: this film is simply terrible. Although it only runs to 84 minutes it took me five sittings to get through it. I could barely tolerate watching twenty minutes at a time. I persevered because…well, look at the cast, surely they would deliver something funny eventually; perhaps the finale would be hilarious.

I grew up in Britain and still love old British comedies: Ealing, of course, Will Hay, Alastaire Sim, Peter Sellers, and so many others. I even like the lower-level comedy of the Carry On series, Benny Hill, or Frankie Howerd. This film, though, has less laughs than Polanski's Macbeth.

Some reviews have suggested that some people find the film unamusing because it is 'dated.' It was made in the fifties and set in the 1880s. However, these facts alone shouldn't be detrimental to a film's appeal. A good number of Britain's best and most appreciated comedies were made in the fifties, such as The Lavender Hill Mob, Hobson's Choice, and I'm All Right Jack. In fact, the decade is a Golden Age for British film comedy. The story's setting in an earlier period can hardly be detrimental either. Kind Hearts and Coronets stands easily as one of the best British comedies, yet it was set in the same historical period as Three Men in a Boat, was released six years earlier and was filmed in black and white. Similarly, Ken Annakin, this film's director, had his biggest successes with Monte Carlo or Bust! (1969) and Those Magnificent Men in Their Flying Machines (1965), both of which are set in times only slightly later than Three Men in a Boat and are equally far removed from contemporary audiences, but are still relatively amusing.

Some films age badly because of the focus of the material. George Formby and the Old Mother Riley comedies relied for their context on a particular interwar period and a British working class culture that had largely disappeared by the 1960s and has little meaning for people in contemporary Britain, let alone the rest of the world. Other examples are the sex comedies made in Britain in the 1970s or the blacksploitation movies made in the US in the same decade. These films are clearly dated but retain entertainment value because of their anachronistic fashions and dialogue.

Astonishingly, Three Men in a Boat was nominated for a BAFTA for, of all things, best screen play. This is baffling because the writers make little effort to drive the story with witty dialogue. Dialogue is, in fact, rather scant. The attempts at comedy come mostly from slapstick situations where our heroes wave tent poles and oars around for insufferable lengths of time, fall in the water repeatedly, and prattles on loudly and unintelligibly. The assumption is, apparently, that if these situations continue for long enough something funny simply has to happen. It doesn't. Slapstick can be badly done but it doesn't become dated. The silent movies of Chaplain and Keaton are still wonderful; the Three Stooges are still ridiculous and funny; much in Norman Wisdom's movies is dated, but when he falls through a window he is still hilarious. Not so Tomlinson, Edwards and Harvey.

On this one, I'm afraid, I concur with the "smug" negative reviewers. This is the least funny Brit Com I've ever seen, and I've seen "Carry on England."

Interesting guest appearances and a surprising plot twist lift this seemingly pedestrian episode. Luke Kirby plays a talentless poet living on the 'patronage' of the wealthy family of his fragile wife (Piper Perabo). The couple report the kidnapping of their baby from a hotel room, and Goren and Eames investigate the disappearance. Lynn Redgrave, who plays the family matriarch, is worth watching, as usual, and it is fun to see Perabo and Kirby playing a married couple. Last time they appeared together they shared a very different relationship: She was a psychotic lesbian who impaled him on a sword for stealing her girlfriend. I'm glad they've managed to move past that.

The movie had some good scenes early on; then dragged on with no apparent purpose. Daniel Day Lewis managed to carry the movie to its ridiculous ending. Kevin O'Connor turned in the only supporting role good enough to give Lewis a character to get some believable interaction with. Paul Dano contributed the worst performance to Little Miss Sunshine and here, as Ely, he is truly dreadful. His acting would have been comical in a community theater production. I can't understand how anything about this movie merited nomination for an award, let alone a win. This word is over used, but "pretentious" really describes this film for me. The other people who suggested this are right: watch No Country for Old Men instead. Heck, watch Happy Gilmore instead.