The Runaways (2010) dir, Floria Sigismondi

Boy oh boy, how these girls changed my life! Before seeing Floria Sigismondi's The Runaways, I had only heard of the ladies themselves once or twice ("It's gotta be a three-way tie between The Stooges, Patti Smith and The Runaways.") After all, I was born almost 20 years after they broke up, but if anything, I have to credit this movie for introducing me to my favourite band of all time. I don't think I've ever heard, owned or loved a more kick-ass album than The Runaways: Live in Japan, and you can always hear it pounding from my car stereo. So, what can I tell the unaware reader of The Runaways? Well...take a more perverse version of Simon Cowell, and drop him in 1970s LA: there you have Kim Fowley: "His Majestic Hysteric, or whatever." Having gained a reputation of media manipulation after his own music career died out, Fowley happened to cross paths with teen prodigies Joan Jett and Sandy West, all three intent on forming an all-girl rock band (although Fowley's motives were somewhat different to the girls'.) Within weeks they had recruited tough-as-nails lead guitarist Lita Ford, 140 IQ bassist Jackie Fox and bleach blonde "Cherry Bomb" Cherie Currie, and The Runaways went from "conceptual rock project" to major pioneers of the female music industry. Their success was short-lived, and they never really made it big in the US, but they are now undeniably considered a huge influence on the rock scene, and on generations of female musicians.

And now, some 35 years on, Floria Sigismondi has produced a biopic based on Cherie Currie's autobiography (which I have read some 100 times) Neon Angel: Memoir of a Runaway. Kristen Stewart stars as Joan Jett in a refreshing-in-the-face-of-Twilight performance which proves she actually can act. Dakota Fanning raises some serious eyebrows as she dons a corset and fishnets as Cherie Currie. 
Cherie is an imperfect twin with a huge Bowie obsession living in the valley, and Joan is a shy, leather-clad tomboy who is told, "girls don't play electric guitars." Much as described in Neon Angel, the girls happen across Kim Fowley (a show-stealing performance from Michael Shannon) and are turned into rock superstars overnight, in the face of public outrage and professional skepticism. 

But, in a fashion not-so-true to Neon Angel, things get in the way of their success, and the band dissolves, leaving our leading ladies on the other side of fame and not knowing what to do with themselves or their considerable drug habits. It's true, this film is only a semi-accurate adaptation of Cherie Currie's book. It's true also, that Cherie Currie's book may only be a semi-accurate adaptation of true events, as the other band members' stories differ somewhat, but I believe the essence of the band and all its glory is captured quite nicely in this film, with a very nostalgic soundtrack featuring David Bowie, Suzi Quatro, James Brown, and of course, plenty of The Runaways' material in some form or other. The film also had significant input from Joan Jett and Cherie Currie themselves, which heightens the authenticity of it. The era is captured beautifully, with some seriously funky attire that I'd love to get my hands on, and the mentioned soundtrack. 

As I said, this movie really doesn't give an even coverage of The Runaways' career, so I'd recommend anyone intrigued enough to read further watch Edgeplay: A Film About The Runaways, which was made by former bassist Vicki Blue, and had input from Cherie Currie, Sandy West (RIP), Lita Ford, Kim Fowley and Suzi Quatro, but Joan sadly refused participation, so very little of The Runaways music (which Joan wrote) is not featured in Edgeplay. However, it's a fantastic watch, very insightful, and very touching to any devoted fan. 

Bad Movies Marathon: Ratman (1988) dir, Giuliano Carnimeo

Exploitation film spans a wide range of subgenres, and every now and then you get a good one. You get a lot of bad ones. And then you get those that are so below amateur that it's funny. This kind of exploitation movie  are the kind that have been dug out of attics and re-released by Shameless Screen Entertainment in a range of bright yellow cases. Shameless sports a colourful and ridiculous portfolio of titles, such as Don't Torture A Duckling (1972), Satan's Baby Doll (1982) and Love Goddess of the Cannibals (1978). When out for a cheap laugh, my Dad and I spotted Ratman. We were somewhat shocked to see full nudity on the cover, and when we noticed its subtitle- "The critter from the shitter!"- we had to check it out.

So, let's start with the basics. Ratman is your typical cheap exploitation film- Italian makers, shot in South America, badly dubbed, and plenty of gratuitous nudity. Then throw in your title character, the result of an inconceivable experiment fertilising a rat ovum with human sperm, who is played by the World's Smallest Man, Nelson De La Rosa. Of course, the little guy escapes and starts running rampant around some holiday resort, picking off supposed fashion models, who are dumber than usual by not thinking to pick their attacker up by the scruff of the neck and tie him in a pillowcase! They have clearly never modelled before either. If not because they dry their hair without turning the drier on, for their frenetic technique. Instead of posing for hours at a time in carefully crafted positions, they prance off in unknown directions and gesticulate wildly while an equally unprofessional photographer tries to keep up. Female horror victims making dumb mistakes is pretty standard, but these girls are dumb on a whole new level!

When one of said bimbos goes missing, her sister travels to the island in an attempt to identify several bodies.  She meets your typical B-movie hero when she shares a cab with him, and within minutes he is accompanying her to the mortuary, because he's a writer looking for new material. As you do.
They slowly follow the sister and pursuing Ratman's trail by a series of inexplicable realisations, while the sister happens upon Ratman's creator and takes a ridiculously caressive shower, before making a string of dumb-ass moves that leave only a fridge between her and her newborn-sized attacker.

Ratman has an 18 certificate, and I can't see any material worthy of such a classification. There is some American Pie-level nudity, and some Scary Movie-level violence. If anyone as young as 12 had nothing better to do with their youth, they could watch Ratman with minimal permanent damage, except perhaps shame on the filmmakers' behalf. The cast are sterile of any acting talent, the story jumps from point to point without seeing the need to explain the journeys in between, cinematography is lazy and unimaginative, and dialogue is just implausibly bad. Dad and I joked about holding Bad Movie Marathons, stocked by Shameless and hosted by Elvira. Her quick-minded double entendres would bring this trash to its knees, and would make it all the more mockable.

Labyrinth (1986) dir, Jim Henson

Rating: 4.5/5

When trusty old Roger Ebert reviewed Jim Henson's Labyrinth back in 1986, he gave it a measly 2 stars. He couldn't have know what a monumental cult fan base Labyrinth would gain, or how sloppy film making would become by comparison. Making only back half of its $25,000,000 budget, it was considered a box-office failure, but this combined-effort product of Jim Henson, George Lucas and David Bowie is $25,000,000 well spent. One scene required 52 puppeteers, 48 puppets and 10 actors, another used the largest panoramic black-cloth ever made, an entire forest, labyrinth and castle was recreated at Elstree, and five people worked together to perform Hoggle. Labyrinth is Jim Henson at his very best: visually it is mindbendingly stunning, every character is beautifully defined, and absolutely no detail was spared. 

If there really is anyone out there unfamiliar with this cult classic, a brief synopsis: Sarah (Jennifer Connelly) is  a fantasy-fueled, pissed-off teenager, and is left home yet again to babysit her little half-brother. While telling the howling babe a bedtime story, she unwittingly has him taken away to the maze-entombed castle of the Goblin King, Jareth (David Bowie). "You have thirteen hours in which to solve the Labyrinth before your baby brother becomes one of us forever," Jareth warns, "Such a pity." And off she goes, into the stony Labyrinth, where the walls and ground move while you're not looking, and everything has a glittery sheen. 

Sarah, Jareth and baby Toby (artist Brian Froud's son) are really the only humans in Labyrinth- the rest is left to the magical creativity of the Jim Henson Workshop, and the musical genius of David Bowie. The goblins sport the trademark Henson bulging eyes and fuzzy mop of hair, and again are remarkably individual. They are not a mass of extras, they are supporting characters. Jareth is sinisterly seductive, and sports one of Bowie's most memorable (but nowhere near most outrageous) outfits, while jazzing things up with a wonderfully upbeat soundtrack. I guess when Henson set out to find a rock star for the role, he had all these points in mind.

I cannot think of ensembles other than those of Henson who are so vast, yet each character so unique. Every Muppet, every Fraggle, are a being in themselves, and we know each apart from the others. Sarah's answer to a scarecrow, tinman and lion are a dwarf named Hoggle, a giant red-haired beast called Ludo, and knightly fox Sir Didymus, who supplies Toto in the form of Ambrosius. Each character has their own personality and charm. Sir Didymus is particularly great, spouting extravagant Shakespearian-style verse, and addressing Sarah as "My Lady."

There is scene after scene of magnificent sets, climaxing in The Goblin City, featuring rows of crooked little Disney cottages, which Jennifer Connelly at 5ft 6.5" has to crouch through the doors of. A huge crew of puppets and very small actors populate the City, and carry out a funky but very clumsy attack against the heroes, who storm the castle for the final 1 on 1 showdown with Jareth, in an incredible piece of set design and optical illusion.

Every single contributing artist on Labyrinth is at the absolute top of their game. Jim Henson and his crew were the creators of modern puppeteering, David Bowie is a rock legend, and Jennifer Connelly continues to be one of Hollywood's most exalted actresses. Now, some 25 years on, $25,000,000 would only buy you Mel Gibson, but in 1986, it made a whole, perfectly crafted movie, with all the necessary geniuses thrown in.Things really have gotten sloppy. Nowadays, everything seen for real in Labyrinth would be done with CGI and green screens, but no matter how much money you throw at creating things digitally, it never quite looks real. The craft and expertise that a lot of very skilled artists demonstrated in Labyrinth is something rather rare nowadays, but it perhaps makes movies like this all the more special by comparison.

Ted (2012) dir, Seth MacFarlane

Rating: 5/5

Ted is everything I anticipated it to be and more. The joyously ridiculous comedy of Seth MacFarlane has brightened my life for around 7 years now, and I can always rely on Family Guy, American Dad! or The Cleveland Show to make me howl with laughter. So when my partner and I saw the trailer for Ted in the cinema, we looked at each other and said, "We've gotta see that!" and it turned out to be the funniest thing I've seen all year.

So, anyone familiar with MacFarlane's work will see many of his trademarks in Ted. He, Mila Kunis, Patrick Warburton, Alex Borstein and Patrick Stewart are all involved, obsessive passion for quintessential '80s icons, and cringe-worthy, crude humour, all topped off with his famous cartoony Massachusettes drawl.
The movie starts on Christmas Eve of 1985, when social outcast John Bennett makes a special wish that his new teddy would come to life and be his friend. When his wish comes true he, his parents and the world are suitably shocked, and Ted starts making the rounds of talk shows. But, as Patrick Stewart's narration concludes, "whether you're Corey Feldman, Frankie Muniz, Justin Bieber or a talking teddy bear, eventually nobody gives a shit."

And so we land in 2012, and find John in a dead-end job, failing to commit to his girlfriend, and smoking more pot than Cheech, Chong, Harold and Kumar put together, and all in the company of his BFF, Ted. John (Mark Wahlberg) has been with Lori (Mila Kunis) for 4 years now, and is facing the inevitable...committing to her and proposing marriage. But, as his friends needlessly point out, Ted is something of a bad influence on John, and getting in the way of his relationship. Is he ever! Together, John and Ted are like a couple of 13 year olds, and on the evening of their anniversary, he and Lori come home to find Ted partying with four hookers, one of whom is "pretty ballsy" when it comes to Truth or Dare!

So, Ted has got to move out, get a job and start actin' responsible. Luckily, Ted lives in a Manhattan where you roll joints in public without getting arrested, and bosses promote you for sexually defiling the produce. His new bachelor lifestyle seems to be paying off, with wild, star-studded parties taking place in his squalid apartment.

Naturally, John temporarily screws up his relationship, he and Ted temporarily fall out, and then trouble strikes in the form of a demented guy and "a kid who may be his son and may be his lover." The structure of the story is cliched in parody form, and all the blanks are filled in with MacFarlane's most hilarious, moronic and outrageous material yet. It's like having hiccups for two hours straight, with each *hic* replaced with a laugh-out-loud. It won't appeal to anyone straight-laced, politically correct or devoutly religious. But from my observations, the majority of people will be rolling in the aisles from start to the very end. 

Horror Remakes and Modern Tobe Hoopers

The '70s and '80s delivered copious horror icons at the peak of their originality, which have remained recognized as hugely influential on the genre, as well as the best of their genre.
The Naughty Noughties have unfortunately delivered copious horror-makers who didn't have the imagination to write a story of their own, and resorted to recycling the best of the stories. My general rule is to avoid remakes like the plague: they often horribly modernized,  and have little grasp of the original story and its qualities. Of course, there are a few exceptions, as there are a few modern Tobe Hoopers, but usually they are god awful. 

Last night, I caught Marcus Nispel's 2009 remake of Friday the 13th on TV, and several points caught my cynical attention. In the original story, young Jason Vorhees drowned at summer camp because the counsellors were too busy having sex to notice he was in trouble, motivating his mother to begin slaying the camp's occupants. It's a plot point, but there is no gratuitous nudity involved. In the remake, I had seen two of the three female characters' breasts by the 20-minute-mark. Why? One is having sex, so perhaps that's justified, but the other suddenly whips her top off to tease one guy...right in front of his buddy. That was certainly not necessary. I'm in no way against nudity in films- some of the best horror movies, like Carrie, Don't Look Now and The Wicker Man, have contained nudity- but I can see no other reason to display this kind of nudity than to keep the audience interested because the plot can't. This seems to be a trend in modern horror.

Another thing I rolled my eyes at was the young idiots stumbling upon a huge marijuana bush...supposedly just growing there naturally...in the middle of a summer camp. It seems that the youngsters are stoners enough to get excited by their discovery, but not stoners enough to realize that to be smokeable the stuff would need drying for a time that way exceeds the duration of their visit. The odd good stoner horror, like Idle Hands, can pull it off effectively, but why do all horror victims now have to be young, dumb, sexy AND potheads?

One of the worst remakes has got to be the 2006 version of The Wicker Man, starring Nicholas Cage and the wonderful Ellen Burstyn, whose talents were wasted on this terrible movie. Cage features in the Edward Woodward role, very cleverly named Edward, who is invited to the island in question by his ex-girlfriend, very cleverly named Willow Woodward. Most traces of the fantastic original by Robin Hardy, were gone, and the ones that remained were left to Edward to artlessly blurt out, such as, "Rose! Daisy! Violet! Another plant name!" This is a nice little touch anyone observant could have noticed in the original, but Hardy was not so crass as to shout it out in the dialogue. As Stephen King said, "Don't tell me if you can show me."

A re-working of the story isn't always a terrible thing, as the 2005 remake of House of Wax proved. The only thing both versions shared was real people being made into wax sculptures for the House of Wax museum. The 1953 version, which is a remake of the 1933 movie Mystery of the Wax Museum, features horror legend Vincent Price as the disfigured madman that folks piss off at their own risk. The remake, inevitably, features college students, a football game, and a girl in her underwear, but it's very creative, and cast a fantastic villain in Brian Van Holt, who is the most charismatic villain since Malcolm MacDowell in A Clockwork Orange. This one involves the college students, including a brother-sister team, camping overnight en route to a football game, and wake to a rank smell and a trashed car. Stranded, they follow the local Hick's directions to the nearest town, where they are picked off one by one and made into sculptures, until a stunning showdown between the villains and the brother-sister team in a melting House of Wax. 

The cast is fun. Chad Michael Murray breaks his pretty boy image and becomes a very convincing ex-con hardman, and Paris Hilton finds herself penetrated by the largest pole she's come across! (Teehee, sorry, I couldn't resist!) Her appearance sparked promotion inviting us to "See Paris Die!" I would call her a good sport, but I don't think she even realizes that we mock her.

The only thing The Omen remake had on its side was an appearance by scream queen Mia Farrow in the nanny role originally played by British favourite Billie Whitelaw. The kid who played Damien had none of the haunting allure that little Harvey Stephens displayed in 1976, and Liev Schreiber gives a forgettable performance as Damien's father, the role which Gregory Peck dominated in the original.

Despite Rob Zombie's 2007 remake of Halloween sporting Malcolm MacDowell as supporting actor, it lacked a lot of the craft and structure that John Carpenter's original is still renowned for. Its opening sequence has been studied in Film Studies class at my old college for years.

I am glad rumours of an Exorcist remake never came to fruition, despite possession horrors booming in the last few years, and a string of appalling sequels.

But earlier I mentioned Modern Tobe Hoopers, and two flourishing directors spring to mind (do share your thoughts if you know any.) My first is a guy I regard as something of a legend in the new generation of horror, and that's Adam Green. Further down on this blog you can find my review of Green's horror debut Hatchet (2006) which is a screaming sensation and uses craft that has not been displayed in the genre for a long time. I watched all the features on my Hatchet DVD, as I do with all my DVDs, and learned a lot about the devotion and skill involved in Green's direction. He came up with the story years before to scare other kids at summer camp, and eventually got funding and a bunch of cult horror actors to make his story a movie. He spent a month doing night shoots in the Louisiana swamp, and vowed not to use a single frame of CGI- an element I really admire, and believe pays off. His script is a fantastic work of original gore, creative characters with well-developed personalities and some pretty hilarious dark comedy. Green believes that horror comedies work as long as you don't let the horror be comical, and his finished product backs this theory up completely. Another of his works is the tense thriller Frozen, which sees three friends left behind on a ski lift in freezing conditions, and their desperate attempts to save themselves. Again, Green showed enormous dedication to film making by shooting on location, in the real snow and ice for hours at a time, day and night, where it could realistically been done in a studio. Adam Green's zero tolerance policy on 'faking it' is really admirable, and the extra craft that this necessitates really makes his movies what they are- innovative, colourful and extravagant. 

The other great newcomer is Lucky McKee, who wrote and directed the 2002 cult horror sensation May, which stars Angela Bettis in the title role. May is a withdrawn young woman, whose lifelong lazy eye has prevented her from having any friends (or boyfriends.) Her only friend is a wide-glass-eyed doll named Suzy, who has never been out of her display box. May works in a veterinary hospital, and sews all her own clothes, and has a thing for seeing at least one beautiful asset in every person. She finds her perfect boyfriend, whose hands absolutely besot her, but when she becomes "too weird" for him, May goes to new lengths to get herself a friend. The movie is sterile of horror cliches, and even brings a few new ideas to the Horror table. Angela Bettis is reminiscent of Sissy Spacek in Carrie in being a totally pitiable, vulnerable 'villain,' and her performance is captivating. 

The critics and fans loved it, but May is still a seriously under-seen movie, and not widely available in the UK, much to my dismay (I still kick myself for returning my friend's copy!) All created by Lucky McKee, he demonstrates great technique, originality and professionalism, and I really look forward to his future originals.

Dorian Gray (2009) dir, Oliver Parker

My Dad introduced me to the story when I was 8, and it influenced me so much I worked it into my English writing exam aged 11. A mousemat in the office reminded me daily that "We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars." Having been brought up on lots of classic literature, I treasure the work of Oscar Wilde, so was really excited back in 2009 when a new film version of his masterpiece The Picture of Dorian Gray was released.

Everyone knows the story, even if they don't know its origins. I watched Dorian Gray again this week with two other people, one of whom soon piped up, "Oh, so this is where the whole 'picture in the attic' saying comes from?" Ben Barnes is young, fresh-faced Dorian arriving in London at the mansion he has inherited from his cruel, estranged grandfather. Dorian's beauty catches the eye of artist Basil Hallward (Ben Chaplin), who begins studying the young man, and painting his portrait. Meanwhile, Dorian is quickly taken under the wing of the corrupt Lord Henry Wotton (Colin Firth), and thrust into rat-infested opium dens and whorehouses."What effect does this have on one's soul?" the young man asks innocently. "One's...SOUL?" The very word seems to taste bitter to Lord Henry. "I nail my soul to the devil's altar," he declares, knocking back another gin. "You have the only two things worth having Dorian: youth and beauty."

Soon Basil's portrait is finished. "It's quite the best thing you've done," Harry observes, "and it will always look this way.You, Mr Gray, will not." As Dorian awes over his reflection, he realises he really does have the only two things worth having, and unwittingly trades his soul for eternal beauty.

As a depiction of classic literature, it is inevitably compared to the novel, and of course the film lacks Oscar Wilde's tremendous wit and poetry. However, it is full of beautiful performances. Ben Barnes, the stunning up-and-coming actor from London, is absolutely how I always imagined Dorian Gray to be. Stuart Townsend was great, but too old for the role in The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen. My copy of the novel is covered by a painting of a blonde, short-haired man in a white suit, who is nothing like how I imagined him. Barnes has a face for all occasions. He has a radiant smile and wide excited eyes as he arrives in London, his torrent of sexual escapades is believable when we see his seductive side. He smirks, fox-like, as he returns from 20 years of travel to a room full of aged friends, who gawk at his miraculously youthful appearance. So many forms his face takes, and all highlighted by his allure.

The other notable performance is from British favourite Colin Firth. Prior to seeing Dorian Gray, I was not convinced of his acting abilities, finding all his performances the same stuffy, uptight Brit who spoke very properly. But his Harry Wotton is absolutely spot-on, and very refreshing from Firth's usual image. He is loud, proud and vulgar in a 19th Century way, full of his own cynical wisdom. "The only thing to do with a woman is to make love to her if she is pretty, and to someone else if she is plain," he philosophizes. He draws Dorian over to the 'dark side,' played by Firth like a Satanic Wilde. 

Overall, the film is visually splendid, and oozing with charm from its sets and players. True, it is lacking Wilde's magic, but as a film made from a work of classic literature, it is a decent tribute, and certainly very enjoyable. I would recommend though that anyone who is not familiar with the novel The Picture of Dorian Gray gets a copy- it's a real read-before-you-die! 

New Top List Idea: Movie Monologues

The other night, my wonderful dad and I caught Jaws on TV, making it easily the millionth viewing we have shared of Spielberg's masterpiece. Before Robert Shaw himself had the chance to deliver the speech yet again, Pop had already mentioned how much he loves the Indianapolis Monologue. He always talks about how haunting he finds it, how well-worded and well-acted it is. He then went on to ask me..."What do you rate as the top movie speeches?" Well, there was a new Top List idea dropped right into my lap. Thanks, Pop!

So, at the time I mentioned three that immediately came to mind, one of them being the Indianapolis speech by Robert Shaw as Quint. He tells Brody (Roy Scheider) and Hooper (Richard Dreyfuss) of his experience as a survivor of the torpedo attack on the Indianapolis, of how sharks caused many deaths in the water for the three and a half days before they were found.

Probably the saving grace of a very controversial movie, Marlon Brando delivers one hell of a speech to the embalmed body of his wife in Last Tango In Paris. Brando plays tortured soul Paul, who is clawing after any sense of happiness, or really pleasure, after his wife's suicide. He finds himself in a masochistic relationship with a young French woman, whose name he never wants to know. The film contains copious sex with many supposed complaints: Brando is twice the age of his co-star Maria Schneider, she is always naked and he remains clothed, a rape, and general lack of feeling or passion from either party. The stars later criticised writer/director Bernardo Bertolucci, as a predatory pervert who had exploited them. It may have been controversial, it may have been somewhat humiliating, but they really did create a very artistic and emotional movie. Brando's monologue had me reduced to tears: he is the epitome of desperation and despair. It's a truly class performance.

The third I mentioned was Piper Laurie's fought-for speech in Brian DePalma's Carrie. Apparently, this speech was due to get cut from the script, but Laurie demanded she be allowed to film it, as she had rehearsed it so much. The film makers soon agreed that it belonged. Not only that, it is the big explanation in the movie, and it was in Stephen King's words in the novel. Margaret White is not just a crazy, abusive fanatic- this fantastic performance gives Margaret's traumatic side of the story. This role was so, so worth Piper Laurie coming out of retirement for!

The last one I must mention, which has only just come to me, is undoubtedly the most upsetting performance in a film I can recall. Ellen Burstyn delivers Oscar-worthy material as reclusive widow Sara Goldfarb in Darren Aronofsky's disturbing masterpiece Requiem For A Dream. Obsessed with fitting back into her special red dress, poor Sara is given amphetamines by some dodgy doctor, and is soon faced with a visit from her absent heroin-addict son Harry, her only love. Knowing his field, he immediately notices his mother is "on uppers," and demands she discontinue them. Sara's true loneliness and misery come flooding out in a devastating one-shot delivery, which starts to slump due to the cameraman bursting into tears on set. "I'm lonely...I'm old..." she sobs. Oh boy, I don't know what kind of mood you have to be in to watch Requiem For A Dream, but I'd advise anyone with a heart approach it with caution. It is the saddest movie I've ever seen.

So, on a lighter note, this is the founding of another Top List. I shall be collecting answers for this poll, as well as finalising the Top Scary Movies list, and they'll be up soon!