PaulEss777 Reviews

Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom (2018)

"Our Home Has Become Polluted By Avarice And Political Megalomania."

[5/10 · 26 May 2024]

I like these things; I'm just sitting here waiting for a good one.

'FK' is a box-ticker, fair enough: Dull action-man lead; dragon-breath hot leading lady; wise-cracking support you find annoying at first, but grow to like (from "Am I dead?" onwards); mean mega-millionaire exploit-nature-for-their-own-end types . . Ho, again and again, hum.

A volcano is killing all the dinosaurs so a corrupt private sec engages a team of callous mercenaries to rescue them - not for their good, you understand - but so he can auction them off to big-suited, big-walleted arms-dealing cronies.

Whoever's getting huge wads for writing this bonkers-ness deserve multiple hats taking off to them. It all sounds very plausible . .

Maybe not. As the whole jolly pantomime indulges itself an insane climax at a California castle (child peril shoed in - tick another box), 'FK' turns just plain silly. The rooftop stuff reminded me of 'Q'.

And predictable - Soon as you see the snarling, slavering Indorapter, you just know poor old Blue is gonna end up fighting it.

Stars for 40's-chassied Bryce Dallas Howard, who's dazzlingly watchable rump is the best thing in the film. Raptor-wrinkly Geraldine Chaplin a joy in a non-role created purely to advance clues to the little girl's amazing origins. Toby Jones is wryly entertaining as the droll dino-auctioneer. B D Wong's Dr Wu is an always welcome recurring player, flitting as he does between serious genealogist and venal mad scientist.

The little girl, Isabella Sermon, looks like the star child at the end of '2001'.

Effects are sensational, but, in a good film context, watch 'FK' next to 'One Million Years BC' or even 'Gwangi' and see it utterly consumed.

Amsterdamned (1988)

Sinister Snorkelling

[7/10 · 25 May 2024]

The tacky, ludicrous, highly entertaining and atmospheric world of Dick Maas and his canal-set 'Amsterdamned' thriller.

Five mins in, and a squalid taxi driver is trying to force a 'freebie' from a prostitute.

That Dick, eh ? Says a lot about his sense of humour that she gets gruesomely offed while all the old sleazoid gets is a sore whatsit.

So, someone - something - is rising from the network of murky canals and slaughtering the Dutch capital's good folk.

As the bodies pile up, insouciant investigator, Eric Visser (Huub Stapel), and his cool car are on the case.

Part-slasher, part-cop thriller, part-comedy . . 'Amsterdamned' isn't a weighty undertaking by any stretch, but a slick-paced hoot if you're in the mood.

Scan the subtitles - there's little congruence with what's onscreen. Like it's two films.

Carry on Laughing (1981)

Gerroff !

[2/10 · 4 May 2024]

What a disaster.

To see the CO's go from vivid, fabulously reactionary burlesques, to these crass, forlorn miseries is heartbreaking.

Troopers Connor, Bresslaw et al, even the finest comedy turns, i.e. Peter Butterworth and Joan Sims, can do nothing with this stuff - and one Jack Douglas' "Wey-e-eh!" is one too many!

The cinema run of fun absurdities - 'Spying' up to and including 'Abroad' - were now existing merely as vehicles for seeing how much of Barbara Windsor you could get past the British Board of Film Censors. The emphatic lack of nous (Talbot Rothwell gone - disaster!), thrusts this 'Laughing' and the other TV stuff (you can't 'carry on' doing something you haven't even started!) firmly into the vast purgatory of hopelessly misguided tv ventures.

Tommy (1975)

"Good Morning, Converts!"

[9/10 · 28 April 2024]

"How can all this trivia take us to the goal you reached?" Just goes to show, you can sell anything . . even hope.

Especially hope.

'Tommy' : Ken Russell shoots lots of visually striking set-pieces and strings them together, much like he did on 'Billion Dollar Brain'. Whether Townshend's anthemic rodomontade was of particular interest to him is moot (tho his eyes must've lit up when he heard "rock opera!"). On the surface, his errant mind's eye typically unravels the source material via stuffing it with quasi-religious bric-a-brac - but 'Tommy' has full-on Russellian themes bubbling away in all their forms.

See the sun rise on 'Tommy' as it set on his father - circle of life motifs are strong : from the tatty disco mirror-ball to the baubles on the Christmas tree, and, of course, a pinball itself - you could write a wee book on how all things 'Tommy' are circular, a la 'The Searchers' ~ (most KR films are best studied through the prism of 'The Searchers' earthy poetry and flawed tenacious masculinity. See also Ollie Reed).

See that deaf, dumb and blind kid sure play a mean pinball, but as a 'second coming' of sorts, he's comprehensively exploited - and ultimately destroyed - by those supposedly in his corner.

Much like the film industry.

Or the music industry . . That's entertainment.

The Clapton/Monroe bit is probably the most telling: Russell - a practicing Catholic at one point - tackles immortality on at least two levels: faith in a thing superficially iconic but cheap in reality; and his own aspirations in that direction as a maker of 'art' - a bit like Da Vinci's Sistine Chapel brief . . "Hey, Len - just give that ceiling a touch-up while you're here, will you ? Grazie".

Pity he died. A Russell Covid opus (🎶 Put in your earplugs, put on your eyeshades . . you know where to shove your mask! 🎶 ?) shot in his garden, followed by a film for the South Bank Show about Mia Khalifa's Gucci glasses is just what we need.

*Khalifa would be in Ken Russell films, be in no doubt about that!

Many go on about beans, but few realise the scene is a contrite Russell purging his early self for making so many tacky ads to put food on the table.

Nothing like making a soggy mess of Ann-Margret for a bit of self-flagellation, eh folks ?

Howling II: ... Your Sister Is a Werewolf (1985)

🐺

[7/10 · 23 April 2024]

You could sit through the fun disaster that is 'H2' solely to 'admire' Marsha Hunt. With the likes of Andress and Lysette Anthony, Marsha isn't much of an actress, but she really pumps the blood! Here, she's the dreamiest lycanthrope since Ursula Howells.

'H2' is a great double-bill with 'Vamp'. Marsha and Grace . . utter glittering gold!

The film itself is an epic mess, but no less watchable off the back of it. Story is, it was a spoof to begin with then recut 'straight' in post-production . . which failed.

Christopher Lee - realising comedy, in this context anyway, is best played stiff - looks acute throughout, despite receiving a hero's welcome in old Soviet-run Czechoslovakia for his WWII work. 'H2's many back stories are more intriguing than the movie itself.

The plot involves a dwarf, werewolf orgies and Jimmy Nail, but its best not to try and make sense of it. Just let the vulgar colours and atrocious new wave musik flow over you. I've never seen Sir Chris more distant. Like the rest of us, he's in disbelief!

Best to concentrate on magnificently-maned Marsha, the hottest howler in history.

Prey (2016)

Ain't Elsa

[7/10 · 19 April 2024]

Thing is, reviewing 'Prey' - or any Dick Maas film - it's hard to decide what stars to give it . .

For sheer fun it's a straight 8. I laughed all the way through it.

As a cohesive, well-thought-out thriller, it's about a 3. People do and say the stupidest things when there's a killer lion prowling near. Makes sense in the context of it being a Maas film, but still . .

Anyone who's seen 'Lake Placid', 'Gorgo' or any number of Toho's, will see the end 'twist' coming a mile off.

It will weary you. 1 for the 'twist'.

For construction, ie: music, cinematography, settings etc, it's a 6. Nice to look at, plenty of admirable Amsterdam atmosphere. Lots of trademark Maas pretty ladies.

Maas still thinks it's the 80's so 'Prey' is clichéd beyond help. Whether it's parody or not is up for debate, but I kinda like the ambiguity - and there's no accounting for taste . . so 6 again for that.

Acting - almost constant mugging - is eye-bulgingly hysterical. Dubbing also, but, again, this adds to the overall oddness. Anything from 0 to 10 on that one. Purely subjective.

'Prey' doesn't get lost in the dark realm of the so-bad-it's-good sub-genre, either. It's both . . and neither.

It's gloriously wayward. Brilliantly ludicrous.

. . And not boring for a second. So on this reckoning alone, forgiving him the ending, it's a fair 7.

Demons of the Mind (1972)

Dares To Be Different.

[7/10 · 16 April 2024]

Whenever Hammer offered 'different' - 'Never Take Sweets From A Stranger', 'These Are The Damned', this one . . the response was mostly muted. 'Stay in your lane!' cried critics and public. 'Stay in your foggy Edwardian cemeteries, your dank asylums, your Home Counties-locked pirate ships . .'

'Demons . .' fits this line. Category is: 'slightly arty psychological melodrama' with all-in scene-chewing and shouting.

It is the morbid tale of . . Oh, whatever. It'd take all morning . .

Let's review the cast instead. The weird, bemused cast: My old mate, Michael Hordern, is most fun. A mad clergyman wandering the woods rambling and tut-tutting to himself as he goes.

Robert Hardy, overboard - to say the least - is in the lead as batty and torn Baron Zorn.

Yvonne Mitchell - a fine, unnerving actress; the relentless 'Yield To The Night' etc - is 'Aunt Hilda'(!), a kind of psycho-nanny to Zorn's insane/possessed/neither children.

Patrick Magee, a discredited quack, brought in to . . well . . make everything worse !

Paul Jones - yes, him - a Lennonesque hero who hasn't a scooby what the lines he's delivering mean or where he is.

Kenneth J Warren, a skinhead Aussie with a glut of ranting loon roles behind him, is almost subdued amongst this lot as the brutal butler. Almost . .

This hardcore ensemble is chiefly why 'Demons..' doesn't get a kicking. Add realistic gore; typically fine Harry Robinson music; the great Arthur Grant's last Hammer camerawork . . you've a sympathetic pot.

Despite it's pretensions, don't expect to take anything from - or make anything of - it, either. It's entirely designed to be senses-bustingly fevered. I accuse the miasmic coiling of the previous years' 'The Devils' as guilty - but then, blame 'The Devils' for everything from 'Flavia The Heretic' to 'Caligula'.

The Patriot (1986)

🌸 🔥

[2/10 · 15 April 2024]

Starring the most ludicrous, unlikely 'leading man' - Gregg Henry - 'The Patriot' (not to be confused with any other 'The Patriot') is an oaf-heavy 1980's big-hair blow from start to finish.

Gregg's a mean-ass, biker/military type, who just happens to pop in for a beer at the same bar a gang who've just stolen two hydrogen bombs are at . .

Looking uncomfortably tough/camp in his leather jacket, and bovine from the neck up, Gregg quickly gets involved in terrorism and action. Mightily duff one-liners, scowling and Leslie Nielsen cameos hindering him not one jot.

Ratatat . . . Boom !!

Nothing to see here, ppl.

Habit (I) (2017)

Wall To Wall Brutal Sex And Death

[6/10 · 15 April 2024]

Gross, mean, with wall-to-wall brutal sex and death, 'Habit' hasn't got too much going for it above and beyond the raw meat, man.

Cutie Lee 'accidentally' runs into haunted (by his mother's suicide) Michael down the benefits office, and lures him into the racy sex industry/cannibal cult scene.

Great, right ?

Partly.

All the ingredients we slaver over are here, especially Roxanne Pallet as a cannibal hooker, but something's missing . . Lack of style, maybe? Even a guts-spilt entry like this needs style, but it just kinda rolls on flat. Perhaps Manchester is full of nookie-dens where you don't survive the encounter; folk maybe take it in their stride (Unlikely? With Burnham as Mayor? Who knows . . ?) ?

'Habit' needs a boot up the gusset, in other words.

Many will be sated by a blood-drenched Pallett (now - awesomely! - 'Carrion' !!) in her undies, dashing down fresh flesh (cough!) with her eyes blazing and her bits wobbling . . And while Rox (a smoke-show, I don't care what anyone says) now distressingly claims to have left this stuff behind her . . 'Habit' deserves at least something raising for conferring on us such a heartwarming image as her legacy.

The Devil Rides Out (1968)

🔥 😈 🔥

[7/10 · 14 April 2024]

A big Hammer fan, I've always had the odd doubt about 'The Devil Rides Out'.

On the one hand, it's easy to value the hurtling pace, terrific score, fabulous period detail, beautiful cinematography . . On the other, it's so blasé. Foul hazards from the 'other side' are dealt with too easily: A jug of water dispatches giant supernatural spiders, apparently. Car lights and a flicked rosary, and Satan (a cheap but creepy-looking thing) is off! You find yourself thinking: 'Oh, it's only the Angel of Death. He'll be gone in a minute.'

The cast is tremendous: Charles Gray is a gorgeously dapper villain; Patrick Mower doesn't embarrass himself; Nike Arrighi is smoky and wan; and it's nice to see lovely Paul Eddington in anything . . but Christopher Lee - steadfast and fine as he is - takes it all a bit too seriously. Obviously in awe of Wheatley's slog, he nails grave well, but he's tight as a drum!

To it's credit, the film has an uneasy, twilight atmosphere - and it moves like lightning! 2 min after the unnerving titles end, we're in the thick of the plot, and the last 15 holds true suspense - set-up thrift is vital in director Terence Fisher's ex-editor hands - but by the end you're left with a nagging doubt, deferral of reality n'all, that the threats facing down our stoic protagonists just aren't that . . threatening!

Mephistophelian fun, nevertheless.

The Long Hair of Death (1964)

"it's Been A Beautiful Experience!"

[8/10 · 12 April 2024]

Barbara Steele's haunting feyness - small, softly-pointed face/large, bewitching eyes - saw her marvellously exploited as vulnerable-looking but intense jezebels in 1960's gothic Euro melodramas.

'Long Hair Of Death' - a mini-triumph - is a hysterical passion-play set amongst the neurotic, immoral inhabitants of a plague-ravaged feudal Italian castle in the late 1500's.

As you can imagine, the last thing they need is wee Babs rocking up, dishing out ice-cold sex and revenge like there's no tomorrow, but it's what they get.

The film has ideas to burn. Add glowering Babs to the mix - M F B recounted her 'Long Hair . . ' shift as "her usual extraordinary self" - and you've 90 fine minutes of crafty histrionics to relish.

Low Blow (1986)

"Bring Your Mind Into The Past, Present And Future"

[2/10 · 12 April 2024]

The bootless trio from the annoyingly haired 'Killpoint' is back : director Frank Harris, and 'stars' Leo Fong and Cameron Mitchell. A triumvirate of terrible. Harris in particular, should be ashamed of himself.

'Low Blow' isn't as sick, racist or downright nasty as 'Killpoint' - and that's it. It's just as amateur, vacant, irritating and soul-destroying in every other regard. Fong, despite slightly improved hair, drudges through this all-out dog's breakfast like a stop-motion clog.

A ridiculous, dozy cult led by Mitchell in a hood and sunglasses; and - the film's only plus-point - dishy but demented disciple, Akosua Busia, have kidnapped some girl and are brainwashing her on a farm. It's up to somnambulant Fong and a few bumpy grunts to rescue her.

All Fong films' selling point is chiefly the fact he knew Bruce Lee, but so did a lot of other people. I met Sir Michael Hordern once, but I don't go around doing Lear at the Old Vic.

You may ask - justifiably - why even watch this turnip ?

Good question.

The Devil's Men (1976)

Abomnibull

[4/10 · 12 April 2024]

''The Devil's Men' doesn't exert Peter Cushing: he has hooded nasties doing most of the dirty work. Nigh skeletal, his mind is on Death-Stars.

Asleep Donald Pleasence ('Potayto!' voice, priest get-up) does his worst turn, 'helped' by a dim Father Ted-haired gumshoe doing the 'action'. Another old rave, Luan Peters, rocks scanty summer shorts . .

An evil cult that worships a wooden Minotaur is kidnapping tourists and sacrificing them . . Whoah ! Strap yourselves in, trash-fans !

A creeping atmosphere gains stars, as does 'Island of Death's dire Bob Behling - seemingly stranded in Greece - being stabbed on an altar. A senseless script, weak pacing and a depths-of-hell Deep Purple-esq theme song soon loses them again.

# Idiot tip: Never one-turkey a Peter Cushing film, however rough.

Mind, whoever 'directed' 'The Devil's Men' has a thing about ladies' legs (much the same way dozy 'Leprechaun' obsesses over Jennifer Aniston's lower limbs) ~ And while this can be the cherry-on-top of a good film, it can't plug cavernous plot holes nor leverage diligent performances from casts who aren't remotely interested in what they are doing.