FILM FRENZY

Empire of the Ants (Photo: Kino Cult)

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.)

DEATH TO SMOOCHY (2002). Director Danny DeVito’s delightful 1996 adaptation of Roald Dahl’s Matilda was a sweet-and-sour affair that ladled on the black humor without ever diminishing the essential sweetness of the material. DeVito is less successful with Death to Smoochy, an acrimonious satire that eventually compromises its own welcome venality by insisting on inserting sentimental components where none are needed. Top-billed Robin Williams is actually a supporting player: He’s cast as Rainbow Randolph, a corrupt TV star whose kid show is cancelled after his wicked ways are made public. He’s quickly replaced by Sheldon Mopes (Edward Norton), a sincere do-gooder whose character, a purple rhino named Smoochy, becomes a hit with the nation’s pre-schoolers. Sheldon tries to keep his integrity intact, but the machinations of a materialistic network executive (Catherine Keener), a duplicitous agent (DeVito), and an apparently insane Randolph threaten to undermine his best efforts. As long as DeVito and scripter Adam Resnick are content to wallow in the mire of human folly, this well-acted comedy serves its purpose as a scathing indictment of American avarice. Once the film turns soft in its final act (the instant redemption of one major character is simply absurd), it limps toward an ending that undermines the outrageousness of the material. On balance, though, this notorious critical underachiever and box office bomb is better than its reputation — ditto DeVito’s next undeserving disaster, 2003’s Duplex (reviewed in From Screen To Stream below).

Blu-ray extras include audio commentary by DeVito and cinematographer Anastas Michos; a behind-the-scenes featurette; an interview with Danny Woodburn (who plays Angelo Pike); deleted scenes; and bloopers.

Movie: ★★½

DOUBT (2008). Adapting his own Pulitzer Prize-winning play, writer-director John Patrick Shanley never quite makes it past the curtain call with Doubt. It’s a movie that remains resolutely stage-bound, but that’s not necessarily a sign of defeat: No one could ever really argue that Mike Nichols’ superb Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? managed to shuck the playhouse chains, either. Doubt is no Woolf, of course, but blessed with a quartet of strong performances, it’s weighty enough to earn its Blu-ray pressings. Set in 1964, the film examines a battle of wills taking place at St. Nicholas in the Bronx. Sister Aloysius (Meryl Streep), the strict principal of the school, isn’t crazy about Father Flynn (Philip Seymour Hoffman), whose desire for a more progressive direction within the Catholic church flies in the face of her old-school ideology. So when timid Sister James (Amy Adams) airs her suspicions that Father Flynn is being a bit too chummy with an altar boy, Sister Aloysius works on getting him ousted. But is she truly convinced of his guilt, or is she merely using the issue as a way to force out the theological thorn in her side? Pulitzer notwithstanding, Shanley’s play was disappointing in the manner in which it took the obvious way out. The movie can’t overcome that hurdle, though it can be argued that Shanley adds an extra layer of ambiguity to the proceedings. Still, what really matters is the cast, and there’s no doubt that Streep, Hoffman, Adams, and Viola Davis (as the mother of the allegedly molested student) all do heavenly work — in fact, all four received Oscar nominations, as did Shanley for his adapted screenplay.

Blu-ray extras include audio commentary by Shanley; a making-of featurette; a chat with the four principal actors; and a piece on Howard Shore’s score.

Movie: ★★★

FROGS (1972) / SQUIRM (1976) / THE FOOD OF THE GODS (1976) / EMPIRE OF THE ANTS (1977) / KINGDOM OF THE SPIDERS (1977). Even before (but mostly after) the 1975 release of Jaws, “Nature Run Wild” movies ran wild themselves during the 1970s, with all manner of animals and insects slaughtering humans at every opportunity (often for their blatant disregard for the environment). Here are five such efforts, all part of the Kino Cult line, that run the gamut from good to godawful.

Ray Milland may have won a Best Actor Academy Award for his excellent performance as an alcoholic in Billy Wilder’s 1945 The Lost Weekend, but when I think of him, what admittedly comes to mind first and foremost is his voluminous work later in his career, particularly in genre fare. In the same year that he starred in the camp staple The Thing With Two Heads (reviewed below in From Screen To Stream), he also headlined Frogs — he plays Jason Crockett, a family patriarch who hates nature and so of course lives on an island estate completely surrounded by wildlife. The animal kingdom reacts negatively to the pollution caused by this millionaire and his family, so, under the leadership of the frogs, this leads to … Death by snake! Death by tarantula! Death by alligator! Even death by turtle! An imaginative premise, a solid cast — Sam Elliott as a hunky wildlife photographer; Joan Van Ark as the most sympathetic of Jason’s brood; Adam Roarke as Jason’s perpetually soused son — and a few surprisingly fresh characterizations lift this out of the mire.

Color me dubious, but Martin Sheen, Kim Basinger, and Sylvester Stallone were all reportedly interested in starring in Squirm. The roles respectively went to Don Scardino, Patricia Pearcy, and R.A. Dow — admittedly, these three don’t provide the same level of trivial-pursuit fascination, although Scardino did go on to become an Emmy-winning director-producer best known for 30 Rock. Still, all three are aptly cast in this horror yarn about killer worms. Yes, worms. After a storm knocks down the power lines in a small Georgia town, the electricity that seeps into the ground turns all of the worms into crazed, flesh-eating creatures. City slicker Mick (Scardino), visiting his girlfriend Geri (Pearcy), understands better than anyone else what’s going on, a fact that doesn’t impress Roger (Dow), the rural redneck who’s smitten with Geri. Squirm bests those films that feature the proverbial cast of thousands, since its cast of real worms numbers in the hundreds of thousands (some even claim a million, since no official number was recorded). At any rate, it’s an impressive undertaking, and it’s supported by the gruesome makeup designs by multi-Oscar winner Rick Baker (An American Werewolf in London, Men in Black) in the early stage of his career.

The Food of the Gods is so wretched that it’s a wonder H.G. Wells hasn’t returned from the grave seeking revenge. Yes, this is one of the greats — and by greats, I mean so unspeakably awful that it needs to be witnessed at least once in a lifetime. On a remote island, a white substance bubbling out of the ground is eaten by various animals and insects, and soon the area is overrun with giant rats, wasps, chickens, and worms. If there are 10 consecutive seconds of quality in this film, I must have rubbed my eyes and missed them. Except for a few scenes featuring mechanized heads and actors in costumes, the giant rats are actually normal-sized rodents seen swarming around toy cars and dollhouses; the wasps are black smudges apparently drawn directly onto the film stock; and the chickens (and one mad rooster) look about as real as Burt Reynolds’ late-career toupees. As for the performers, former-evangelist-turned-bad-actor Marjoe Gortner stars as a football player who kicks giant-critter butt and Pamela Franklin portrays the requisite scientist, here a horny brainiac who hits on the gridiron star even as they’re about to be eaten by rats. Depressingly, the great Ida Lupino — a 1940s star and one of the first major female directors — wraps up her career by playing a Bible-thumping rube who screams, “God! Oh, God! Aaaaaahhhh!” while watching bloodthirsty worms snack on her hand.

Those who desire even more crazed bugs in their moviegoing diet might want to check out Empire of the Ants, a subpar effort that was released theatrically in the same year that Ants! was hitting television. Loosely adapted by writer-director-producer Bert I. Gordon (The Food of the Gods filmmaker strikes again!) from a story by H.G. Wells, this stars a pre-Dynasty Joan Collins as a shady realtor who has some swampland in Florida she’s trying to sell to a particularly dense group of investors. What she and the others don’t know — but discover soon enough — is that a leaky barrel of radioactive waste has turned small ants into gi-ants, and the hapless humans must flee the area before they’re — what exactly? Bitten? Eaten? Crushed? The laughable effects make it difficult to ascertain exactly what the ants are doing to their victims, but as long as their actions result in the demise of these dolts, it doesn’t much matter. Yup, you’ll be rooting for the ants.

Like those Biblical epics of yore — oh, and Squirm — Kingdom of the Spiders is another motion picture that can boast of literally presenting a cast of thousands. In this case, that number applies to the hordes of spiders seen crawling all over the place — 5,000 seems to be the accepted figure, although some have suggested as many as 10,000! At any rate, arachnophobes are advised to steer clear of any TV set showing this effective horror yarn, which managed to produce a handsome return on its half-million-dollar budget during a period when most moviegoers were busy rewatching Star Wars for the umpteenth time. William Shatner, still a couple of years away from the Star Trek movie franchise that would resurrect his career, plays “Rack” Hansen, a small-town veterinarian who teams up with a big-city entomologist (Tiffany Bolling) to figure out what’s killing animals in his Arizona community. It turns out that the area’s spiders, affected by the pesticides that have been destroying their natural food supplies, have set their sights on larger prey — before long, humans are finding themselves being attacked, bitten, and cocooned. This entertaining picture was clearly inspired by Jaws (right down to the blustery mayor worried that the intrusive presence of Mother Nature will ruin the town’s upcoming holiday weekend), but that wonderfully chilling ending is all its own.

Blu-ray extras on Frogs include film historian audio commentary; an interview with Van Ark; and the theatrical trailer. Blu-ray extras on Squirm include audio commentary by writer-director Jeff Lieberman; a making-of featurette; and the theatrical trailer. Blu-ray extras on The Food of the Gods include audio commentary by Gordon; audio commentary by authors Lee Gambin (Massacred by Mother Nature: Exploring the Natural Horror Film) and John Harrison (Wildcat! The Films of Marjoe Gortner); and an interview with co-star Belinda Balaski. Blu-ray extras on Empire of the Ants include audio commentary by Gordon; film historian audio commentary; and the theatrical trailer. Blu-ray extras on Kingdom of the Spiders include audio commentary by director John “Bud” Cardos, producer Igo Kantar, spider wrangler Jim Brockett, and cinematographer John Morrill; audio commentary by Bolling and Kantar; and interviews with Bolling and writer Steve Lodge.

Frogs: ★★½

Squirm: ★★½

The Food of the Gods: ★

Empire of the Ants: ★½

Kingdom of the Spiders: ★★★

GAME NIGHT (2018). It’s no match for a marathon evening of Apples to Apples with assorted friends and loved ones, but as a date-night option, a person could do worse than Game Night. A reasonably diverting comedy that hits all the expected beats, this stars Jason Bateman and Rachel McAdams as Max and Annie, a couple who routinely invite their friends over to their house to partake in Parcheesi, charades, Monopoly, and seemingly every other game this side of Spin the Bottle. Kicking up the festivities a notch is Max’s highly competitive brother Brooks (Kyle Chandler), who arranges a murder-mystery party for the gang. Brooks ends up getting kidnapped, a wrinkle that amuses the participants until they realize that the snatch wasn’t part of the game and that Brooks’ life is actually in danger. Sporting as many twists as David Fincher’s comparatively more somber The Game, Game Night works best when it focuses on the personalities of its characters and meanders when it pays too much attention to the particulars of the plots-within-the-plot (which don’t really hold up to post-viewing scrutiny anyway). Bateman and McAdams enjoy an easy rapport together, while Jesse Plemons is ideally cast as their next-door neighbor, a socially awkward guy who also happens to be a cop. Be sure to stay through the final credits for a capper to the running gag involving no less than Denzel Washington.

Extras in the 4K Ultra HD edition consist of a making-of featurette; a gag reel; and theatrical trailers.

Movie: ★★½

HARUM SCARUM (1965). Here’s one of those Elvis Presley vehicles that arrived after the slide had begun, when the King was no longer making quality pictures like Jailhouse Rock and Flaming Star and instead found himself shanghaied by Colonel Tom Parker and trapped in one formula flick after another (the one exception: 1966’s entertaining Frankie and Johnny). Harum Scarum is particularly poor, with even Elvis appearing bored by all the soggy shenanigans. He’s cast as Johnny Tyrone, a Hollywood star whose latest picture climaxes with him killing a tiger with his bare hands. Apparently not grasping the magic of the movies, some Middle Eastern evildoers believe that Johnny really does possess fatal fists of fury and therefore decide that they will force him to assassinate a kindly ruler (Phillip Reed) in order to take over his kingdom. But Johnny’s a “make love, not war” kinda guy, so he instead spends his time wooing the king’s daughter (former Miss America Mary Ann Mobley) and taking care of a couple of orphans. Watching Elvis serenade a sashaying 9-year-old moppet with “Hey Little Girl” (which contains lyrics like “I want you to swing it to the left and shake it to the right. Hey little girl, you know you’re lookin’ fine”) is best described as “2024 GOP weird” — the rest of the film is merely tedious, with nary one truly memorable tune (although the soundtrack did hit #8 on the Billboard chart) but plenty of lame comic situations.

Blu-ray extras consist of two 1965 Tom & Jerry cartoons, The Cat’s Me-Ouch and Of Feline Bondage, and the theatrical trailer.

Movie: ★½

THE LAST UNICORN (1982). Would the act of giving The Last Unicorn a less-than-stellar rating be tantamount to kicking a puppy? This animated feature from the Rankin-Bass team (with further backing from Japan, Germany, and England) was hardly a blockbuster upon its original release (at least not stateside), but over time it has developed a sizable following and is adored by millions — heck, even my older daughter (now an adult) has watched it countless times over the years and still ranks it among her all-time favorite movies. Peter S. Beagle adapted his own novel about the title critter (voiced by Mia Farrow), who sets out to discover if there are any other unicorns existing outside her neck of the woods. She eventually teams up with a bumbling wizard named Schmendrick (Alan Arkin as the least likely mythical character ever), finds herself frequently fleeing from the menacing (and vodka-free) Red Bull, and, after she’s turned into a human, falls for the dashing son (Jeff Bridges) of a menacing king (Christopher Lee). There are some eye-catching visual flourishes and a handful of innovative sequences, but for the most part, the animation is limp and practically all of the actors deliver alarmingly flat line readings. There’s a music score by America, but it hardly represents the band’s best work.

Extras in the 4K Ultra HD + Blu-ray SteelBook edition consist of a retrospective making-of featurette; a profile of Beagle; a Q&A session with Beagle; animated storyboards; and the theatrical trailer.

Movie: ★★

NAVAJO JOE (1967). One of Burt Reynolds’ first starring features was also one of his most miserable filmmaking experiences, as evidenced by his frequently repeated quip that the movie was “so awful it was shown only in prisons and airplanes because nobody could leave.” Of course, Navajo Joe looks like Deliverance when compared to such later Burt megabombs as Stroker Ace and Rent-a-Cop, but Reynolds’ discomfort is nevertheless shared by anyone who attempts to watch this flagrantly mediocre Spaghetti Western. Burt is Joe, a Native American who seeks vengeance against the racist cowboys who murdered his entire village. When the gang leader, a sadistic chap named Duncan (Aldo Sanbrell), elects to rob a train full of money, he and his band are foiled by Joe, leading the members of a nearby town to reluctantly hire the Navajo survivor to protect them. He accepts the assignment for a fee (a dollar for each bandit he kills), and soon it’s hey, Joe, where you goin’ with that gun (and knife) in your hand. Unlike the Spaghetti Westerns directed by Sergio Leone, this Italian oater from Sergio Corbucci has no luck creating any interesting characters — even Joe is something of a dullard — and the script’s few interesting developments are curtailed before they can flourish. The score is credited to one “Leo Nichols,” but it only takes hearing three notes tops to peg it as an Ennio Morricone.

Blu-ray extras consist of audio commentary by filmmaker (Walker) and author (10,000 Ways to Die: A Director’s Take on the Italian Western) Alex Cox; scene-specific audio commentary by Ennio Morricone expert Gary Palmucci; the theatrical trailer; and trailers for other titles on the Kino label.

Movie: ★★

THE STARS FELL ON HENRIETTA (1995). In the same year that Robert Duvall danced around a campfire with a dead deer balanced on his head in the awful Demi Moore version of The Scarlet Letter (and earned a Razzie nomination for his efforts), he delivered a far more distinguished performance in The Stars Fell on Henrietta, a movie that barely played theaters and thus didn’t even crack the $100,000 mark at the box office. Duvall is certainly on more familiar ground, playing a wildcat oilman who tries to convince a Depression-era couple (Aidan Quinn and Frances Fisher) that there’s Texas crude bubbling underneath their parched cotton fields. Duvall’s poignant work grants enormous dignity to a character who’s described as a “hopeless loser,” and the movie works best when it’s simply studying the ways he tries to double-talk those around him. But the material involving the farm couple’s struggles plays like a second-rate Places in the Heart, while the expected manner in which the story unfolds robs the climax of its inherent power. This was made through Clint Eastwood’s production company Malpaso, with Eastwood serving as a producer and several of his regulars working on the picture (including editor Joel Cox, cinematographer Bruce Surtees, and art director Henry Bumstead). This marked the film debut of Francesca Eastwood, the daughter of Eastwood and Fisher and all of seven months old when filming began; the capable cast also includes Brian Dennehy and Billy Bob Thornton.

The only Blu-ray extra is the theatrical trailer.

Movie: ★★½

TOP LINE (1988). I can think of few movie titles as boring and nondescriptive as Top Line. But Alien Terminator, the film’s alternate title? That’s more like it. And while it might initially seem like false advertising when it comes to this Italian cheapie, it eventually proves to be a fairly decent fit. But it takes some time: The “alien” almost seems like a MacGuffin for the first stretch of the film, and the “terminator” doesn’t even arrive until 66 minutes into this 92-minute movie. And the thievery doesn’t stop there: The poster image (and Blu-ray cover) looks exactly like the artwork for the Romancing the Stone poster, and the flick also manages to work in bits from Cocoon, Witness, and the Indiana Jones adventures. Franco Nero stars as Ted Angelo, a boozy author living in Colombia. Ted soon finds in his possession an ancient artifact that he traces back to a UFO that’s been hidden in a cave for centuries; he turns to a historian named June (Deborah Moore, Roger Moore’s daughter) for assistance, and they soon find themselves being pursued by a cackling former Nazi (a badly dubbed George Kennedy), hired assassins, and an unstoppable cyborg who does everything but mutter, “I’ll be back.” Top Line is shameless junk, but it’s also loopy enough to merit a glance. There’s an amazing chase where Ted immediately regrets hoofing it via bare feet, and there’s also a payoff that includes some decent effects work. Top Line is far from top-line, but it isn’t barrel-bottom, either.

Blu-ray extras include film historian audio commentary, including interviews with Moore and supporting player Robert Redcross; an interview with Nero; an interview with author Eugenio Ercolani (Darkening the Italian Screen: Interviews With Genre and Exploitation Directors Who Debuted in the 1950s and 1960s); and alien theories offered by parapolitics researcher Robert Skvarla.

Movie: ★★½

FROM SCREEN TO STREAM

DUPLEX (2003). Had Danny DeVito been born British and a quarter-century earlier, he would have fit right in at Ealing Studios, the English outfit known for such biting black comedies as The Ladykillers and Kind Hearts and Coronets. Most of the movies directed by DeVito (including Throw Momma From the Train and The War of the Roses) have exhibited a similar strain of acerbic humor as those Ealing classics, and Duplex is no exception, allowing audiences to derive pleasure from watching the characters’ collective discomfort. Ben Stiller and Drew Barrymore play Alex and Nancy, a writer and graphic designer (respectively) who believe they’ve found their dream house when they purchase a duplex in Brooklyn. They figure they can deal with the fact that they’ll be sharing their abode with a longtime rent-controlled tenant, a 90something-year-old Irish woman named Mrs. Connelly (Eileen Essel). But once this seemingly harmless lady turns their lives into a living hell, they come to the conclusion that murdering her is the only viable option left. Writers Larry Doyle (The Simpsons) and John Hamburg (Meet the Parents) should be commended for milking this premise for all it’s worth — there are no dry spells in this often uproarious comedy, and the resolution is especially clever. James Remar scores in a choice supporting role as a hired killer, and his showdown with Mrs. Connelly includes a humorous lift from The Untouchables.

Movie: ★★★

PURPLE NOON (1960). The fictional character of Tom Ripley has appeared in five novels written by Patricia Highsmith, five film adaptations, and a handful of TV projects (including the recent Netflix limited series Ripley). Before Dennis Hopper, Matt Damon, John Malkovich, and Andrew Scott (among others) tackled the role, it was Alain Delon (who passed away earlier this week, at the age of 88) who first brought the devious and diabolical con man to life — in fact, his performance transformed the French actor into both a movie star and an international sex symbol. In Purple Noon (Plein soleil), Delon plays the decadent American who travels to Italy and forges a close friendship with a spoiled playboy (Maurice Ronet) — once their relationship begins to sour, Ripley concocts an elaborate scheme to murder the man and assume his identity. This French adaptation of The Talented Mr. Ripley is as coolly detached as its protagonist, as writer-director René Clément keeps viewers waiting to see how (or even if) Delon’s amoral smoothie finally trips himself up. The interplay between Delon, Ronet, and Marie Laforêt (as Ronet’s girlfriend) and the crisp camerawork by Henri Decaë help turn this erotic and intriguing film into a decadent treat.

Movie: ★★★½

SHUT UP & SING (2006). In honor of The Chicks (formerly the Dixie Chicks) performing the National Anthem at the DNC, here’s a look at the documentary about the most controversial incident in the band’s existence. A stirring tribute to what it really means to be an American, Shut Up & Sing tells the story of three women whose struggles with hypocrisy, misogyny, and idiocy allowed them to emerge as inspirational icons. The three women in question are, of course, the members of the Dixie Chicks, the wildly successful country music act whose popularity took a tumble back in 2003 when, during a London show, lead singer Natalie Maines stated that she was ashamed President Bush was from her home state of Texas. This innocuous statement was delivered on the eve of the U.S. invasion of Iraq (back during that surreal period when most Americans thought that slaughtering thousands of Iraqi men, women, and children was a terrific idea), and the film charts the group’s journey from country outcasts to mainstream darlings. That Bush has been proven so deadly wrong about the Iraq situation, and that he went on to be considered the worst U.S. President of all time until a certain orange cretin showed up — this all seems beside the point as far as Shut Up & Sing is concerned. Even without the support of the changing winds, it’s clear that Maines believes in freedom of speech, believes in her convictions, and believes in this nation of ours. And those, my friends, are the signs of a true American patriot.

Movie: ★★★½

THE THING WITH TWO HEADS (1972). In 1971, AIP released The Incredible 2-Headed Transplant, starring Bruce Dern and Casey Kasem (yes, that Casey Kasem) in the story of a scientist who attaches the head of a killer onto the body of a mentally challenged hick. Concluding that not only are two heads better than one but that two films with the same premise are preferable to just one, AIP followed up with The Thing with Two Heads. Ray Milland is Maxwell Kirshner, a wealthy scientist and unrepentant bigot who doesn’t have much longer to live. Having successfully placed the healthy head of a gorilla onto the body of a dying ape and then surgically removing the old noggin, he instructs his staff to find a suitable body on which he can have his own head similarly grafted. The only volunteer for the operation is Jack Moss (“Rosey” Grier), a black Death Row inmate who agrees to the procedure since he figures he can use the extra time on Earth to prove his innocence. Needless to say, Kirshner isn’t exactly thrilled when he awakens and sees another head next to his — a black one, at that. Or, as the ads blared, “They transplanted a WHITE BIGOT’S HEAD onto a SOUL BROTHER’S BODY! Man, they’re really in deeeeep trouble!” This often falls into the so-bad-it’s-good-to-watch territory, with some intentionally amusing dialogue keeping it lively. But a lengthy chase involving our two-headed team and a squadron of police cars clocks in at 25 minutes — nearly a third of the picture’s run time — and while this section probably played well at the drive-ins of the day, it’s now nothing more than interminable yahoo fare and kills all momentum. Grier was best known for his glory days as one of the Los Angeles Rams’ “Fearsome Foursome” — and as one of the men who tackled Sirhan Sirhan after he fatally shot Senator Robert Kennedy.

Movie: ★½

Review links for movies referenced in this column (links open in new windows):
An American Werewolf in London
Ants!
Indiana Jones Series
Kind Hearts and Coronets
The Lost Weekend
Matilda
Places in the Heart
Romancing the Stone
Star Trek
Star Wars
Stroker Ace
The Terminator
Walker
Witness
Worst Razzie Nominations