What a Way to Go!

What a Way to Go! (1964) – There’s a fair bit of mugging, but the big-name cast otherwise does solid work, and MacLaine shows impressive versatility; the film’s class of jokes isn’t great, but it’s occasionally quite funny (and yet the funniest gag in the movie is also the most cring-inducing); overall, the movie is cute and charming, and it executes what it wants to do fairly well. 6

Extraterrestrial

Extraterrestrial (2011) – This would have worked better if somebody – the characters, the aliens, anybody – ever got around to doing anything, but as it is, the sci-fi literally does nothing, and the rest of the film is like a bad chick flick; after the promising Timecrimes, this is a big disappointment from Vigalondo. 4

Looper

Looper (2012) – It’s got the usual DeLorean-sized time travel plot holes and the logic is sometimes dodgy (e.g., why can’t someone else kill your future self?), but the premise is intriguing, the character arc is compelling, and the story is engaging and well planned out (except, of course, for the half-baked and neglected inclusion of the telekinetic population, which is tacked on for obvious reasons); the film’s firearms are obnoxious in their painful Hollywood disregard for Newton’s Third Law. 7

Dredd

 

Dredd (2012) – Urban turns in an appropriately (and impressively) understated performance in this thoroughly engaging (and thoroughly gritty) film, which has a strong sense of setting and features some pretty neat effects. 7

TV: M.A.N.T.I.S. – A Very Quick Look

M.A.N.T.I.S. (1994-1995), 22 episodes

M.A.N.T.I.S. is a science fiction series that ran for one season on Fox in 1994 and 1995. Here, a paralyzed scientist creates an exoskeleton that enables him to walk and gives him superhuman strength and agility.

With the high-tech underground lair, the fancy vehicle, and all the detective work, the parallels to Batman are obvious (only with his spine getting murdered instead of his parents). Yet these two characters have completely different personalities, and Miles Hawkins, the angry and intelligent paralyzed African-American protagonist, is fertile ground for storytelling. On the whole, the M.A.N.T.I.S. premise is strong.

Sweeping changes have occurred since the pilot. The entire supporting cast has been replaced, with two of the three new actors being white. Gone are the racial themes, the attempts at social relevance.

There’s nothing inherently wrong with anything the M.A.N.T.I.S. series does, but it does seem rather obvious that Fox wanted a much “safer” show than the pilot promised. This addressed, let’s set the pilot aside and address the series on its own terms.

M.A.N.T.I.S. doesn’t get off to the greatest start. It goes with an evil CEO/scientist-of-the-week formula, which is okay, but it spends too much time on these characters than its protagonists, whose character arcs are far more interesting.

M.A.N.T.I.S. finds its legs in episode 6, “Gloves Off,” when it finally begins to do interesting things with its characters. We start to see Hawkins’ dark side, how he channels his unresolved anger. We see the supporting characters getting more involved. We see better interaction between Hawkins and Stonebrake.

While the writers show some good sense for suspense and drama, we also get some silly, sappy writing (egregious examples include letting the bad guy go off unsupervised in “Soldier of Misfortune” and “the Mantis” talking in “Revelation”). And the use of the crooked cop trope is off the charts. All told, though, episodes 6-11 comprise the best run of the series.

With the resolution of the ongoing story arcs in episode 11, “Revelation,” M.A.N.T.I.S. heads in a completely new direction: it goes full comic book, with all that entails: alternate dimensions, time travel, clones, magic, sexy mutant fish people – I could go on. And it undertakes all this in complete earnestness, without a hint of camp.

There isn’t necessarily anything wrong with this, but it just doesn’t work. These episodes are all one-offs, with no running subplots: the Mantis manhunt arc is gone as if it had never been, and at least one known crooked cop is still on the job. Character development is also out the window, as the protagonists are shoved to the back burner and rendered flat and inert in favor of the supervillain of the week. I also didn’t appreciate that the rather fresh title theme was redone to sound like background music from Street Fighter II.  

The latter half of the series is not often compelling, both because of these factors and because of the generally poor writing, which features plenty of half-baked story elements, absurd “science,” and blatant stupidity. There’s no suspense here of any kind.

In the series finale, “Ghost of the Ice” – a rare instance where a canceled show is given the chance to wrap things up on its own terms – in addition to an incredibly unsatisfying conclusion, M.A.N.T.I.S. gives us a freaking invisible t-rex. This episode is mind-boggling on several levels; insulting, even.  

The cast is one of M.A.N.T.I.S.’s strengths. Carl Lumbly is a criminally underrated actor, and he carries the show as best he can. Roger Rees, another underappreciated actor, makes for a more than competent sidekick, and Christopher Gartin and Galyn Görg are both fine in their roles. But nobody could look good delivering some of that second-half material; not surprisingly, Görg gets the worst of it.

M.A.N.T.I.S. was never much for notable guest stars, with the most prominent recurring characters being played by Star Trek vets Gary Graham and Andrew Robinson (Robinson seems to be having a wonderful time throughout). While the recurring actors are generally good, though, the acting of the one-off characters is frequently weak.

So then: did M.A.N.T.I.S. deserve to be canceled? It’s hard to argue that it didn’t. Certainly it was headed in the wrong direction. And it’s just too bad: with the cast, the premise, and the characters, there was a quality show screaming to get out. But every time M.A.N.T.I.S. did something well, it immediately turned around and did something astoundingly silly: terrible writing assassinated this show well before the invisible t-rex showed up to devour its credibility.

It is therefore with great disappointment that I give M.A.N.T.I.S. a 5. (That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t check it out if you like the premise, but you’re probably better off quitting after episode 11.)

Best episode: “Thou Shalt Not Kill”

Worst episode: “Ancestral Evil”

Masters of the Universe: A Many-Sentence Review

MASTERS OF THE UNIVERSE (1987): A Many-Sentence Review

We are delighted to present a full review of the 1987 live-action Masters of the Universe film directed by Gary Goddard and starring Dolph Lundgren and Frank Langella.

Now, you may be saying, “You’ve been cranking out these one-sentence reviews for years, and this oft-reviled toy movie is the film you finally decide to do a full review of? Why?” Well, that’s perfectly fair, and my only response is this: because He-Man, that’s why. But if this is all too much for you, you can find the plain old one-sentence review of the film below this post, and no hard feelings.

Let me preface this review by saying that I am one of the seemingly few people who not only loved the Filmation cartoon as a child but still hold a strong affection for it as an adult. And while that version was and is for me the definitive He-Man, I also have an appreciation for the different forms the MOTU characters and world have taken throughout the 1980s, and I take the premise reasonably seriously in any case. That’s where I’m coming from on this movie, both in terms of my views on the film when I saw it in the theater at the age of six and how I see it, twenty-five years later, as an adult and quasi-film buff.

In the paragraphs that follow, I want to try to answer two questions: 1. Is this a good movie? and 2. Is this a good He-Man movie? Now, the obvious thing to do is say, “No, and no,” stamp the film with the label Warning: May Contain He-Man-Like Substance, and move on with life. But let’s not be too hasty.

First of all, this film has a strong basic plot going for it. Here, Skeletor has finally put it all together and conquered Eternia – that’s an enticing, high-stakes premise, and one that was arresting to He-Man fans in 1987. And while we know that the film has some serious problems (those may well be what you remember about the film most strongly), it also does a number of things extremely well, both in terms of David Odell’s script and the final product that Goddard presents to us.

For one thing, the villains are handled with excellence. Here we have an imposing, menacing, powerful Skeletor, one far removed from his somewhat comical cartoon counterpart (whom I absolutely love, don’t get me wrong), and who has plenty of choice lines. The relationship arc between Skeletor and Evil-Lyn is understated, yet compelling. Just about all the scenes set on Eternia are engaging and entertaining – even with only the scant glimpses of that world the film affords us, it’s an immersive setting.

Yet this is also a film that spends half its time on Earth – its entire middle act – subjecting us to the awkward high-school romance between Courteney Cox and Robert Duncan McNeill and the inane scripting of McNeill’s and James Tolkan’s characters. That certainly holds the film back, partly because that’s not what we came to see and partly because it’s not well done.

There are also a bunch of little niggling plot and editing issues – the sort that one tries to overlook but which can take their toll; a few of these are on Odell, but most are on Goddard. Where were the cops the whole time Skeletor’s forces were on their rampage? Where were the people in the town? Why does Lubic pump his shotgun every time he’s on camera? How, exactly, do you send somebody back in time to a point where the past version of them already exists (kidnapping?)? Why did Karg say “Find the key” in Gwildor’s house when he didn’t know there was a key? Why would Goddard use a shot where He-Man’s sword and cape fall right off him? Given the rib scene, has some kind of long-running vegetarian movement swept Eternia? Why did Lieutenant Paris throw all that trash into the sink? Et cetera and et cetera, although most of the ones I haven’t mentioned (and a few that I have) are pretty easy to forgive if one is so inclined.  

The action scenes are adequate at best. First off, there’s way too much blaster fighting (and who wants to see a blaster-fighting He-Man?). In the finest Star Wars tradition, all the bad guys are horrible shots – and in fairness, all the good guys are too: you won’t find more blue and red lasers missing their marks anywhere but the old G.I. Joe cartoon. And it doesn’t help that the less-than-mind-blowing climactic showdown was filmed during a quick emergency shoot after primary filming had been shut down.

All things considered, though, given the cast, the script, the production timetable, and everything else, Goddard does a more than decent job as director – and as a first-time (and only-time) director, no less. As we hinted at above, there are more noticeable editing issues here than in your average film, but Goddard chooses his shots well enough and tells the story pretty efficiently.

But here is another problem: Goddard is trying to make a New Gods story, a tribute to Jack Kirby and his Fourth World stories. Meanwhile, the opening to Bill Conti’s title theme is trying to be John Williams’ from Superman (although beyond those first few derivative bars, Conti’s score is actually quite good). Skeletor’s stormtroopers are trying to be black-painted Star Wars troopers, and his vehicles are trying to fit into Return of the Jedi. Add all that up and it often seems that the one thing nobody’s trying very hard to do is make a He-Man movie.

And here is another strength: the cast is actually pretty good. Frank Langella is a mesmerizing Skeletor, delivering some classic lines with menace and gusto. I don’t think it’s an overstatement to say that Langella taking his role seriously and giving us the Skeletor he does is the film’s greatest strength. Second only to him is Meg Foster, an ideal Evil-Lyn, who does an excellent job in the role and has good chemistry with Langella. Billy Barty does underratedly fine work, as always, and Jon Cypher is a perfectly adequate Man-At-Arms (Chelsea Field is decent as Teela, too; the film just doesn’t do enough with her for it to matter much).

And then there’s Dolph Lundgren, who certainly looks the part of He-Man. He’s earnest and, as He-Man, likeable enough, but he also frequently has trouble delivering his lines with the requisite inflection and emotion to make them believable. In his defense, he doesn’t have the best dialogue to work with, but when he shares the screen with Langella, he’s really outclassed, and the end result is a serviceable but bland He-Man who doesn’t have much in the way of a personality or sense of humor, and who stands in distinct contrast to the Filmation version. I clearly remember being in the theater at the tender age of six and being completely underwhelmed by his “I have the power!” (in fairness, it’s not terrible, but it does also make me think of this). One wonders what might have been if they had dubbed him with John Erwin (holy smokes, there’s a very good chance that would have been completely awesome).

There’s also James Tolkan, who dominates every scene with the sheer force of how annoying he makes his character. Courteney Cox and Robert Duncan McNeill are fine, but again, we don’t really care about their characters or story.

The art design, like just about everything else with this movie, is a mixed bag. Visually, the unequivocal star of the film is the Castle Grayskull throne room, which is a gargantuan, magnificent set piece, and which sets the visual tone for the entire film. And to his credit, production designer William Stout does an excellent job of giving us a distinct, unique world with its own identity and plenty of character, and of tying together the costumes (tights and intricate spaulders for everybody, with nary a furry brief in sight, although that’s only the surface of it) and establishing a visual connection between He-Man and Grayskull.

But Stout was (and is) wantonly unrepentant of his disdain for the source material. Some characters, notably Skeletor and Evil-Lyn, look quite good: they’re done in Stout’s style, but at the same time, they’re logical live-action adaptations of the toys. Man-At-Arms and the Sorceress are somewhere in between: adequately recognizable, but different enough to be annoying to the movie-going youngster of 1987. And then there’s He-Man (Teela, too). With the tiny leather straps and the pointless cape, the film He-Man actually ends up in a getup that’s even more unlikely (and, somehow, more scanty) than the original. More to the point, he doesn’t look like He-Man, and his sword doesn’t look like the Power Sword. It all works well enough within the context of the film, but in 1987, this was not the He-Man we wanted to see.   

A quick side note: if, like me, you saw this film as a child, you probably wondered not only what happened to He-Man’s battle harness with the cross, but also what the heck that little round thing they replaced it with was supposed to be. Well, it’s an Eastern-style dragon, the same one that’s so prominently featured on Castle Grayskull’s throne room doors (He-Man also has one clipped to his belt) (click the picture to enlarge):

A big part of this film not trying hard to be a He-Man movie is the cast of supporting characters (the Eternian ones, I mean). Foundational characters like Orko and Battle Cat are missing, but that’s easily understandable given the budget and special effects limitations of the day (and honestly, Gwildor is a more than capable Orko substitute).

But for no good reason whatsoever (yes, you can say that selling toys is a good reason, but Karg never got a toy and we still had to put up with him), Skeletor has all new henchmen, although if one squints, one can perhaps divine analogues of the old ones. The Beastman, for example, could be the Beast Man of the cartoon, if the Beast Man of the cartoon were a samurai Klingon Grizzlor who was incapable of speech. Likewise, with his hook arm, Karg could be Trap Jaw, if Trap Jaw were a bat crossed with the Golden Girls. Following this line of reasoning, I suppose that Blade would be Tri-Klops and Saurod would be Kobra Khan. (A note on Saurod: it’s too bad that we never got to find out whether he would have turned out to be cool – probably he would have; he was the only one with the stones to stand up to Skeletor (then again, that’s what got him killed).)

Furthermore, this is a film that features only seven characters from the cartoon (if we count “the Beastman”), only seven with action figures prior to the film’s production. This is a film in which those hallowed words, “By the power of Grayskull!” are never uttered, in which no transformation takes place, in which Prince Adam is never seen. In fact, the surprise discovery of the ancient American space expedition to Eternia, which was cut from the film but included in the comic book adaptation, is explicit evidence against the existence of Queen Marlena and, by implication, of Prince Adam (it’s also the logical and necessary explanation for how He-Man and company can go to Earth and find people of the same race speaking the same language).

Now, objectively, consider the following: while the film fails abjectly in adapting the mythology of the cartoon (rather, it doesn’t bother to try), it actually fits in exceptionally well with the pre-Filmation mythos. Go back and look at the mini-comics from 1981 and 1982 and the books from 1983: except for the two-halves-of-the-Power-Sword business, the film’s world and story fit in just fine. The only problem with this is, again, that when we went to the theater in 1987, the pre-Filmation mythos just isn’t what we were expecting – or wanting – to see.

But now, twenty-five years later, it’s considerably easier to be more favorably disposed toward this movie, to meet it on its own terms. And in doing so, I find it to be an adequate eighties fantasy/action movie with compelling villains and a pretty impressive visual theme. To my mind, on the balance, it comes out as more good than bad, if barely. And it must be said that in the realm of toy- and cartoon-based movies, you can certainly do quite a bit worse.

Therefore, with all this in mind, I submit that while it definitely wasn’t the He-Man film we wanted in 1987, Masters of the Universe is both a passable film and a passable He-Man film.

I give it a 6.