FILM FRENZY

Ryan Gosling in The Fall Guy (Photo: Universal)

By Matt Brunson

(View From The Couch is a weekly column that reviews what’s new on Blu-ray, 4K and DVD. Ratings are on a four-star scale.)

BLOWN AWAY (1994). There’s a scene in Blown Away in which symphony violinist Kate (Suzy Amis), the new bride of Boston bomb squad expert Jimmy Dove (Jeff Bridges), is behind the wheel of a car rigged with an explosive device — if she tries to use the brakes to slow down the vehicle, she dies. It sounds like a scene from Speed, and, indeed, it was this movie’s rotten luck that it hit theaters a mere three weeks after the Keanu Reeves film. But the fact that Speed grossed a robust $121 million while Blown Away only managed $30 million shouldn’t be entirely chalked up to bad timing — it’s also because Speed is an excellent and efficiently streamlined action flick while Blown Away is merely average and overstuffed. The terrorist who’s setting off bombs in Boston is Ryan Gaerity (Tommy Lee Jones), an Irishman so nutty and brutal that even the IRA sent him packing. Gaerity has just escaped from a prison in Ireland and makes it to the U.S., where, by sheer “oh, come on” coincidence, he happens to spot the object of his pursuit, Jimmy, on a TV newscast — he then heads to Boston to get revenge for a deed once committed by Jimmy and one that’s slowly revealed via flashback. Bridges and Jones seem to be competing to see who can drop his tortured Irish accent the most frequently, leaving Forest Whitaker to steal the show as Jimmy’s egotistical new partner (it’s a nothing role, but Whitaker does wonders with it). A fast pace helps, but the individual doings are often so daft (one of Ryan’s bombs, a Rube Goldberg device, doesn’t seem at all practical!) that it’s impossible to take this seriously, even with “The Troubles” informing the tale.

Extras in the 4K + Blu-ray edition include audio commentary by director Stephen Hopkins; film historian audio commentary; a making-of featurette; the music video for “Take Me Home” (sung by Joe Cocker and Bekka Bramlett); and the theatrical trailer.

Movie: ★★

THE BURGLARS (1971). Titled Le casse in its French homeland, The Burglars is a series of spectacular set-pieces seemingly held together by the flimsiest application of Elmer’s School Glue. One of those international productions so prevalent during the 1970s, this stars Frenchman Jean-Paul Belmondo as a jewel thief, Egyptian Omar Sharif as a corrupt cop, and American Dyan Cannon as the woman caught between them. Belmondo is Azad, whose gang manages to successfully make off with a load of valuable emeralds. Unfortunately for them, they’re having trouble getting out of Athens, so they’re forced to cool their heels for a few days. While this allows Azad ample opportunity to flirt with model Lena Gripp (Cannon), it also allows Detective Abel Zacharia (Sharif) plenty of time to track down Azad in an effort to obtain the diamonds for himself. Most of the physical confrontations in The Burglars are phenomenal — a famous sequence from Peter Weir’s Witness was actually staged here first — but when it comes to building character, most of the cast members aren’t given much to do (Cannon’s role is particularly underdeveloped). The Burglars is probably most celebrated for a lengthy car chase orchestrated by former French motorcross champion and future James Bond vehicular stunt coordinator Rémy Julienne, but I was most impressed by Azad’s violent tumble down a steep and rocky hillside, all the more remarkable since it’s clearly not a stuntman but Belmondo himself doing the falling! In fact, Belmondo does the vast majority of his own stunts — no fall guy required for this incredibly athletic superstar.

The Blu-ray contains the 114-minute U.S. version of the film as well as the 126-minute international (i.e. French language) cut. There are no extras.

Movie: ★★½

THE FALL GUY (2024). There are some vintage television series that I worship because they’re indisputably great (e.g. All in the Family, Columbo, The Twilight Zone). Then there are others that fall into the category of Comfort TV: They can hardly be considered brilliant, but between the attractive stars, the interesting locales, and the undemanding plotlines, they satisfy in the moment. Since my teen years, Hart to Hart has qualified as such a show; so has The Fall Guy (1981-1986), which starred Lee Majors as Colt Seavers, a Hollywood stuntman who doubled as a bounty hunter. The film version of The Fall Guy can be considered a big-screen adaptation only in that it centers on a stuntman named Colt Seavers, with the bounty hunter angle completely dropped. Within its own parameters as an action yarn with a goofy smile planted across its screenplay, it’s a successful romp, with Ryan Gosling proving to be an effective Colt Seavers. Retreating from the film scene after a severe accident, Colt is called back into duty to help locate Tom Ryder (Aaron Taylor-Johnson), MIA from the set of the sci-fi flick Metalstorm (presumably not a remake of the real Metalstorm, reviewed in From Screen To Stream below, although it cheekily borrows its tagline of “It’s High Noon at the End of the Universe”). Metalstorm is being directed by Colt’s former lover Jody Moreno (Emily Blunt), so he spends as much time trying to reconnect with her as he does hunting for Ryder. Director David Leitch, whose 2017 Atomic Blonde (reviewed here) continues to look even better with each passing year, once again lords over a series of nifty action sequences, but they never overpower the amusing interludes created by scripter Drew Pearce (love the aural nod to Majors’ The Six Million Dollar Man) or the disarming performances by Gosling and Blunt.

The 4K + Blu-ray + Digital edition contains the theatrical version and an extended cut. Extras include audio commentary by Leitch and producer Kelly McCormick; a making-of piece; a look at the stunt that ended up breaking a Guinness World Record; and a gag reel.

Movie: ★★★

GHOULIES II (1987). Seemingly a rip-off of 1984’s Gremlins although they were both in production at the same time, the original 1985 Ghoulies found the son of a devil worshipper falling under the spell of evil influences and unleashing vicious little monsters (Ghoulies!) on his unsuspecting friends. As I wrote in my Ghoulies review when it hit 4K, “The titular critters are laughably cheap (critic Leonard Maltin once cracked that they look like ‘Muppets dipped in shellac’) and are severely hampered in their movements — this is the sort of movie where you can sense the puppeteers poised just outside of the camera’s eye and clumsily trying to move those little monster limbs and lips.” Ghoulies II is more of the same, meaning it’s no better and no worse than its predecessor. In this one, a group of the pint-sized evildoers sets up shop within a traveling carnival’s haunted house. The carnival setting initially seems like an interesting slant, but tedium soon sets in — Tobe Hooper’s 1981 terror tale The Funhouse (reviewed here) showed far more imagination in its employment of a similar setting. The diminutive actor Phil Fondacaro, who has played Ewoks, Christmas elves, and Munchkins over the years, has one of his better roles as an actorly assistant known as Sir Nigel Pennyweight. For those keeping track, Ghoulies and Ghoulies II were followed by two straight-to-video efforts, 1991’s Ghoulies III: Ghoulies Go to College and 1994’s Ghoulies IV.

The 4K Ultra HD + Blu-ray edition offers both the PG-13 theatrical cut of the movie and an unrated version. Extras include an introduction by screenwriter Dennis Paoli; a making-of featurette; deleted scenes; an interview with Paoli; and a photo gallery. A mini-poster is also included.

Movie: ★★

GIRL ON THE BRIDGE (1999). French director Patrice Leconte, whose U.S. arthouse hits include 1989’s Monsieur Hire (reviewed here) and 2002’s Man on the Train (here), scored a sizable success in his homeland with this film that isn’t quite a comedy, isn’t quite a love story, and isn’t quite a melodrama. In fact, part of the appeal of Girl on the Bridge is that it’s difficult to pigeonhole; instead, the screenplay by Serge Frydman is rather unique, detailing the relationship between a professional knife thrower and his beautiful new assistant. When Gabor (French national treasure Daniel Auteuil) first spots Adèle (actress-model-singer Vanessa Paradis), she’s ready to end it all by throwing herself into the icy embrace of the Seine. But Gabor makes a proposal she eventually accepts: Since she’s obviously not too interested in living, why not become his target — the bottom half of his knife-throwing team, as it were? Both lifelong victims of bad luck, they enter into the agreement with low expectations, but as they travel around the Continent performing their act, they find their fortunes changing and an obvious (though platonic) attraction developing between them. The separation of the characters during the film’s final third — Adèle leaves Gabor for some bland hunk but soon realizes her mistake — feels like the writer’s equivalent of treading water, needed to stretch the movie to an acceptable 90-minute minimum requirement and pave the way for an ending that brings the story full circle. It’s the weakest part of the picture, but it doesn’t overshadow the unusual appeal of everything that precedes it. Jean-Marie Dreujou’s black-and-white cinematography is another plus, adding immeasurably to the piece’s charged atmosphere.

Blu-ray extras consist of film critic audio commentary; Leconte’s 1992 short film Le batteur du Boléro; and trailers.

Movie: ★★★

IN & OUT (1997). During a decade in which gay-themed mainstream movies were about as threatening to hetero audiences as a Care Bears cartoon (Philadelphia, The Birdcage), here’s another to join the crowd. Paul Rudnik based his script on a real event: When Tom Hanks won an Oscar for Philadelphia, he thanked his gay high school drama teacher in his speech. In In & Out, actor Cameron Drake (Matt Dillon) does likewise when he wins an Oscar for playing a homosexual soldier and dedicates it to Howard Brackett (Kevin Kline), his gay high school English teacher back in Indiana. The only problem is that Howard isn’t gay, and he’s even set to marry fellow teacher Emily Montgomery (Joan Cusack, earning a Best Supporting Actress Oscar nomination) within the week. Nevertheless, everyone starts treating him differently: His male students cover themselves when he enters the locker room, the principal (Bob Newhart, R.I.P.) stutters vague threats of job dismissal, and his love of Barbra Streisand suddenly becomes a hot topic of conversation. It all grows more complicated with the arrival of a TV journalist (Tom Selleck) who’s in town to cover the fallout. Selleck is likable in a change-of-pace role, while Kline is careful never to turn Howard into a flaming caricature — whether he’s listening to a tape about locating the inner macho man or cheerfully riding his bike into town, he concentrates on animating the character rather than simply the character traits. Rudnick steadily locates the laughs in the situation, and the hilarious scene in which Cameron’s supermodel girlfriend (Shalom Harlow) tries to place a phone call remains a personal favorite.

Extras in the 4K + Blu-ray edition include audio commentary by Rudnik; an interview with director Frank Oz; behind-the-scenes footage; and vintage interview clips with Kline, Cusack, and Selleck.

Movie: ★★★

THE LINGUINI INCIDENT (1991). As writer-director Richard Shepard explains in one of the extras included on this Blu-ray, his quirky rom-com had the misfortune of opening in Los Angeles on the same weekend (May 1, 1992) that the Rodney King riots were already in full force. Yet there’s nothing about The Linguini Incident — the cast, the plot, the setting, even that precious title — to suggest it would have made any dent at the box office, and its only hope for a sustained afterlife was always as a cult film (which it’s presumably considered in some circles). Affected from first frame to last, this stars Rosanna Arquette as Lucy, who dreams of becoming an escape artist like Harry Houdini but instead toils as a waitress at a pretentious, high-end NYC restaurant called Dali. The bartender at Dali is a new hire named Monte (David Bowie), and he has until week’s end to marry someone in order to land a green card. He’s also in a financial predicament, so he, Lucy, and Lucy’s best friend Viv (Eszter Balint) decide to rob Dali. It’s difficult to ascertain which is more anemic, the humor or the charm, although a couple of vignettes land as intended, and the film does capture the vulgarity of trendy, overpriced eateries. Buck Henry and Andre Gregory offer some early laughs as the haughty owners of Dali, but their shtick eventually gets run into the ground; Oscar winner Marlee Matlin (Children of a Lesser God, Coda), meanwhile, is wasted as the joint’s no-nonsense cashier. As for Bowie, he fails as a romantic lead (he and Arquette have no chemistry) but succeeds as a light comedian, delivering a sly, slightly self-deprecating turn.

The Blu-ray edition highlights the Director’s Cut, with the original theatrical version only offered in not-so-hot standard definition. Extras include audio commentary by Shepard; audio commentary by Shepard, Arquette, Balint, co-writer Tamar Brott, and producer Sarah Jackson; a making-of piece; and a photo gallery.

Movie: ★★

PHANTOMS (1998). This adaptation of Dean Koontz’s novel (with the author himself handling screenplay duties) would be completely — and I mean completely — forgotten were it not for its mention in 2001’s Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back. Discussing their mutual dislike of Good Will Hunting, Holden McNeil (Ben Affleck) states, “But Affleck was the bomb in Phantoms,” to which Jay (Jason Mewes) replies, “Word, bitch, Phantoms like a mo’fucker!” This exchange is certainly more memorable than anything that actually occurs in this mediocre horror yarn about an evil entity that has wiped out an entire Colorado town. Among the only survivors are a young doctor (Joanna Going), her kid sister (Rose McGowan), the town’s sheriff (Affleck), and a demented deputy (Liev Schreiber) — they’re eventually joined by a tabloid reporter (Peter O’Toole in a “My God, has it come to this?” performance) who informs them that they’re combatting The Ancient Enemy, a mysterious force that lives beneath the earth and pops up every now and then to munch on the living (“Chaos in the flesh,” as O’Toole’s scribbler whimsically puts it). The film’s first half, which is largely comprised of scenes in which the survivors cautiously check out an empty room … then another … then another … is devoid of any semblance of suspense, mostly resulting in a tedious sit. The second part, in which our heroes must fight rampaging creatures with the ability to take on various forms, is a bit livelier but won’t impress anyone who’s seen Alien, The Thing, or any of several hundred other science fiction-horror hybrids.

Extras in the 4K UHD + Blu-ray edition consist of interviews with producer Joel Soisson and director of photography Richard Clabaugh; the theatrical trailer; and a TV spot.

Movie: ★★

RISKY BUSINESS (1983). From Screwballs to Hardbodies, the eighties were jam-packed with inane teen sex comedies — rest assured, Risky Business is not one of them. On the contrary, this is one of that decade’s defining youth films, although writer-director Paul Brickman’s script is so razor-sharp that it’s a disservice to categorize this as just a teen flick. Keyed into the capitalist excesses of the Reagan era, this stars Tom Cruise as high school senior Joel Goodsen, a clean-cut suburban kid who’s terrified he won’t make it into Harvard. While his parents are away for the weekend, he gets involved with a savvy hooker named Lana (Rebecca De Mornay), and they partner on a unique business venture that will benefit both of them as long as they can avoid the wrath of Lana’s “manager,” Guido the Killer Pimp (Joe Pantoliano). Beautiful to behold in its stylistic sheen, this features a marvelous theme by Tangerine Dream that sets the proper mood, with the song score expansive enough to include tunes by The Police, Bruce Springsteen, Talking Heads, and more. And then, of course, there’s the iconic scene of Cruise dancing to Bob Seger’s “Old Time Rock and Roll” while decked out in his underwear. (In other sequences, he’s sporting Ray-Ban Wayfarer sunglasses, and sales of the eyewear skyrocketed after the film’s release.) The choice quips come fast and furious; I’m sure my friends and I were far from the only high school kids who, during our senior year following the film’s August release, elected to adopt the line, “Sometimes you gotta say, ‘What the fuck,'” as our own personal mantra.

Criterion’s 4K + Blu-ray edition contains both the theatrical version as well as a director’s cut. Extras include audio commentary by Cruise, Brickman, and producer Jon Avnet; a retrospective making-of featurette; and screen tests by Cruise and De Mornay.

Movie: ★★★½

ROCKY: ULTIMATE KNOCKOUT COLLECTION (1976-2006). Sylvester Stallone’s blockbuster series hit 4K UHD last year with a collection that only included the first four of the six films in the franchise. Now Warner has released a boxing box set that more logically includes all the entries.

Rocky (1976) is the real deal, offering a raw, gritty feel that none of the slicker sequels even attempted to replicate. Stallone wrote for himself a terrific character, a lovable lug who’s plucked from obscurity and given a shot at the championship. All the familiar faces are here: Talia Shire as Rocky’s mousy girlfriend Adrian; Burt Young as her slovenly brother Paulie; Burgess Meredith as the crusty trainer Mickey; Carl Weathers as the swaggering heavyweight champion Apollo Creed; and Tony Burton as “Apollo’s Trainer” (as he’s billed in the first two flicks) Duke (as he’s billed in the rest). Backed by a buoyant Bill Conti score (including his chart-topping single, “Gonna Fly Now”), this is rousing entertainment. Nominated for 10 Academy Awards, including acting bids for Stallone, Shire, Young, and Meredith, and a scripting nod for Stallone, this won three: Best Picture (beating the powerhouse quartet of All the President’s Men, Taxi Driver, Network, and Bound for Glory), Best Director (John G. Avildsen), and Best Film Editing.

Although Rocky II (1979) builds itself around a rematch between Rocky and Apollo, the movie is anything but a lazy sequel. Instead, it shows the effects (both good and bad) that greet Rocky after the first film’s championship bout made him famous, among them a pathetic attempt to star in a TV commercial and his acceptance of meager jobs in order to put food on the table. But Apollo’s taunting finally leads him back into the ring for a fight that’s as exciting as their original skirmish.

Rocky III (1982) marks the point where the series starts to get silly, but the end result is so enjoyable that it’s hard to carp too much. After growing soft from facing too many lesser opponents, Rocky ends up losing the championship to a street brawler named Clubber Lang (Mr. T in his film debut). To reclaim the title, he accepts help from his former nemesis, Apollo Creed. Mr. T is often more comical than menacing, but he has screen presence to burn; you also get lunkheaded Trump groupie Hulk Hogan in his film debut as an excitable wrestler named Thunderlips as well as Survivor’s Oscar-nominated, number one hit “Eye of the Tiger.”

As a motion picture, Rocky IV (1985) is a veritable cheese factory, but as a relic of the Reagan ’80s, it’s absolutely priceless. This finds Rocky entering the Cold War and doing his part for the U.S. of A. by taking on the seemingly invincible Russian boxer Ivan Drago (Dolph Lundgren). Weathers is particularly good — even poignant — in this outing as Apollo grows restless in retirement, and the boxing matches are, as always, pulse-pounding highlights. But there are simply too many ludicrous elements to ignore: Paulie’s robot; Brigitte Nielsen, even less expressive than the robot; about a thousand music-video-styled montages; Lundgren’s delivery of Drago’s deadly dialogue (“I must break you,” “I defeat all man,” etc.); and a jaw-dropping finale in which all the Russians — even the members of the Politburo! — cheer Rocky as he delivers a “Kumbaya” speech.

Three years ago, Stallone took a page from the Coppola handbook by tinkering with Rocky IV — he removed about 40 minutes of footage from the 91-minute feature, replaced it with about 40 minutes of unused scenes and alternate shots, and released it as the 93-minute Rocky IV: Rocky vs. Drago — The Ultimate Director’s Cut. Among the changes are a complete elimination of Paulie’s robot (thank the stars), a smaller role for Nielsen (she and Stallone married in 1985 and divorced in 1987, so this might be his petty revenge), and more emotional scenes between Stallone and Shire. The more serious nature of this version is a plus, but the downside is that the film feels choppier — regardless, Stallone seemingly didn’t cut down on any of the endless montages and in fact expanded them. This version is a fraction better than the original, but not enough to move the needle in any discernible manner.

The first four Rocky flicks, all released three years apart, were commercial hits; not so Rocky V (1990), which arrived five years after the previous installment. John G. Avildsen, who helmed the first Rocky (Stallone directed II–IV), returns to the saga, but he’s knocked out by a soggy tale in which (in an absurd development) the Balboas go bankrupt and are forced to move back to their crummy Philadelphia neighborhood. Rocky ends up training an eager rookie named Tommy Gunn (real-life boxer Tommy Morrison, who passed away 11 years ago from AIDS; he was 44), all the while ignoring his own son (Sly’s real-life son Sage Stallone, who passed away 12 years ago from coronary heart disease; he was 36). This is the first picture in the series that feels inert, and poor performances from series newcomers Sage, Morrison, and Richard Gant (as a Don King-like promoter) — not to mention gratuitous flashback scenes with Burgess Meredith’s Mickey — help sink the project.

Even the crustiest of reviewers might feel a protective twinge when faced with the spectacle that is Rocky Balboa (2006). That a sixth Rocky movie arrived 16 years after Rocky V is perhaps the ultimate in both money-grubbing and star groveling, yet because Stallone so obviously loves this great character he created, it’s hard to get worked up in a fury of righteous indignation. My only regret is that Rocky Balboa isn’t a better film. It has some nice touches, particularly in the way it draws upon memories of previous installments, and Stallone is never more human as an actor than when he’s essaying this role. But the movie spends too much time in idle and not enough in overdrive, and what should be the central storyline — Rocky comes out of retirement to fight an undefeated champion (Antonio Tarver) half his age — only takes shape once the picture’s nearly over. Still, it’s at least a corrective to the fiasco that was V, and it sends the character off on an appropriately triumphant note… at least until the Creed flicks.

In addition to the original six flicks and Rocky vs. Drago, this collection also contains the director’s cut of Rocky Balboa. Extras include audio commentaries featuring Stallone, Shire, Weathers, Young, and others; a making-of featurette for Rocky vs. Drago; a piece on Conti’s score; a look at the Steadicam, then brand new and only used on Bound for Glory and Marathon Man before it was employed on Rocky; and theatrical trailers.

Rocky: ★★★½

Rocky II: ★★★

Rocky III: ★★★

Rocky IV: ★★

Rocky IV: Rocky vs. Drago: ★★

Rocky V: ★½

Rocky VI: ★★½

TURBULENCE (1997). It might not be quite as silly a premise as snakes on a plane, but a serial killer on a plane doesn’t sound like there’s much room to maneuver, either for the killer or the screenwriter. So give Jonathan Brett some credit for at least getting his premise off the ground, even if it doesn’t maintain narrative altitude for the entire ride. Ray Liotta plays Ryan Weaver, a charming psychopath better known as the Lonely Hearts Killer for his m.o. of dating, raping, and murdering single women. Having finally been captured by longtime nemesis Detective Aldo Hines (Hector Elizondo), he’s placed aboard a flight from NYC to LA alongside a vicious bank robber (Brendan Gleeson), four federal marshals, and, because it’s a Christmas Eve flight, only a smattering of regular passengers. Flight attendant Teri Halloran (Lauren Holly), herself something of a lonely heart, catches the eye of Weaver, and once the marshals, pilots, and select others are dead, he spends the rest of the flight stalking her through the narrow aisles. As Teri tries to evade her pursuer, she also must pilot the 747 through a massive storm and land it safely on the LAX tarmac. Where’s Charlton Heston when you really need him, or even, in a pinch, George Kennedy? Turbulence sets up the premise nicely and does a fine job of establishing the characters, but once the thriller elements take over, the film gets sillier by the minute, with Teri making idiotic decisions simply so the story can continue and Liotta eventually going overboard in his portrayal with all the frenzied fervor of the Wicked Witch of the West screaming, “I’m melting!” There’s a nice turn by Catherine Hicks as a flight attendant who’s much brighter than Teri — too bad she’s not in the film more.

Extras in the 4K + Blu-ray edition include audio commentary by director Robert Butler; TV spots; and the theatrical trailer.

Movie: ★★

FROM SCREEN TO STREAM

HILLBILLY ELEGY (2020). Until 2021, only two actors had ever received nominations for the same performance for both the Academy Award and the Golden Raspberry Award: James Coco, who deserved neither Supporting Actor nod for 1981’s Only When I Laugh, and Amy Irving, who didn’t deserve the Supporting Actress Razzie citation for 1983’s Yentl (see Paging Oscar: The Worst Razzie Nominations of All Time here). Then, almost 40 years later, along came Glenn Close, earning Best Supporting Actress noms for both awards for her turn as Grandma Hillbilly — excuse me, “Mamaw” — in Hillbilly Elegy, Ron Howard’s leaden adaptation of JD Vance’s heavily disputed 2016 memoir. Like Coco, Close probably didn’t warrant a glance from either organization, but pressed to choose, her turn skews more to the Razzie side — compared to her, even Ruth Gordon’s foul-mouthed bellowing as Ma in Every Which Way But Loose looks positively somnambular. Close and her fellow Oscar bridesmaid Amy Adams (between them, the two poor women have a whopping 14 nominations but zero wins) are both buried under the Oscar-nominated makeup designs as the two most influential women in the life of young JD (Gabriel Basso). While Close’s Mamaw offers tough love to her grandson, his mom Bev is a perpetual mess, forever turning to hardcore drugs to get her through the day. Hillbilly Elegy is both smarmy and self-satisfied, with JD presented as a flawless saint and the peeks at Appalachian culture no more than skin-deep. It isn’t a bad movie as much as it’s a bland and boring one, although some snatches of unintentionally hilarious dialogue (naturally, most coming from Mamaw) do perk it up from time to time.

Movie: ★★

METALSTORM: THE DESTRUCTION OF JARED-SYN (1983). Like Spacehunter: Adventures in the Forbidden Zone and Yor: The Hunter from the Future, here’s another cheesy 1983 production that hogged marquee space with its clunky, subtitle-enhanced moniker. A comparatively ambitious effort from filmmaker Charles Band (the Trancers and Puppet Master franchises), this is basically a knockoff of both the Mad Max and Star Wars series, with locales straight out of George Miller and characters straight out of George Lucas. On the wasteland planet of Lemuria, a ranger named Dogen (Jeffrey Byron, passable) hopes to stop a megalomaniacal ruler named Jared-Syn (Mike Preston, awful); along the way, he rescues a miner’s daughter (Kelly Preston, no relation to Mike), taps the services of a weary fighter (Tim Thomerson as a poor man’s Han Solo), and strikes an uneasy alliance with the Cycloplian leader Hurok (Richard Moll). The quality of the visual effects is variable, but the makeup, set, and vehicular designs are all impressive; points also for a rousing score by Richard Band (Charles’ younger brother). Yet in terms of plotting and pace — to say nothing of characterizations and casting — this is often embarrassingly bad, and the ending hints at a sequel that fortunately never transpired.

Movie: ★½

RIO LOBO (1970). Howard Hawks, whose five features starring John Wayne included the superb Westerns Rio Bravo and Red River, reportedly wasn’t too pleased with Rio Lobo, their final collaboration and Hawks’ final picture (he would pass away seven years later, at the age of 81). Yet while it clearly doesn’t compare to the director’s many masterpieces (a list that also includes His Girl Friday and The Big Sleep), it’s nevertheless a pleasant and perfectly acceptable way to sign off a career. Wayne is typically larger-than-life as Cord McNally, a Union officer who teams up with two Confederate soldiers (Jorge Rivero and Christopher Mitchum, Robert’s son) immediately after the Civil War in order to locate the man who betrayed his side during the skirmish. With a playful script co-written by Leigh Brackett (she not only co-wrote Rio Bravo but also The Empire Strikes Back) and a mischievous performance by Western vet Jack Elam, Rio Lobo is rarely meant to be taken too seriously. As the female lead, Jennifer O’Neill is simply terrible; as the secondary female character, Sherry Lansing is just passable, although, after this picture, she had the sense to give up acting altogether and work behind the scenes. This resulted in a spectacular career as one of the first (perhaps the first, depending on how one interprets titles) female head of a major studio (20th Century Fox) as well one of the guiding lights behind a string of massive hits during her lengthy stay at Paramount (including Fatal Attraction, Forrest Gump, and Titanic).

Movie: ★★★