Lionsgate, certificate 15
Originally written for Infinity magazine
Despite the presence of headliners Dennis Quaid (Innerspace, The Day After Tomorrow) and James Franco (Spider-Man, Oz the Great and Powerful), Kin feels oddly more suited to small screens than the large, with an open-ended finale which leaves you anticipating (albeit not rooting for) a spin-off tv series.
When the recently-widowed Quaid’s estranged elder son (Jack Reynor, soon to be seen in Scandi folk horror Midsommar) gets out of jail, he might be forgiven for thinking strained family dynamics are the biggest problem on his plate. Unfortunately, Reynor is in debt to a local gangster (Franco), adopted teenage son Myles Truitt (last seen in Black Lightning and here making his feature debut) has salvaged an extraterrestial weapon from the site of an unexplained alien shoot-out (seriously, it’s time for a moritorium on that cliché) and Quaid has the misfortune to walk in on Franco’s gang as they’re robbing the construction company he works for. The two brothers escape, joining forces with a kind-hearted stripper (Zoë Kravitz, X-Men: First Class and Mad Max: Fury Road), but Franco is soon hot on their trail, as is a team of aliens eager to retrieve their bad-ass bazooka.
Although competently executed, the resultant road movie is crushingly familiar, and that’s not because I saw Bag Man, the 2014 short by Kin co-directors Jonathan and Josh Baker from which it was expanded. The old Not the Nine O’Clock News song ‘Nice Video, Shame About the Song’ springs to mind; in this case, decent enough performances and special effects, pity about the plot and script.
Just received a preview of the nine-page tribute to the late, legendary artist Bernie Wrightson which is due to appear in next month’s edition of The Dark Side.
I see this over and over again. A couple of years ago, I was able to buy a bunch of Kate Bush CDs for half the price of downloading them (I already had the LPs). Tonight, I spotted YouTube selling the third season of Star Trek: The Next Generation — or rather, the temporary ability to download a digital version — for £24.99, whilst eBay can get you a Blu-ray boxset for just £17.98, a saving of more than 28%. I find this insane, but then I live in a house full of stuff rather than a white box with a chair at one end and a hungry screen at the other.
I’m on the mailing list for Dallas-based Heritage Auctions (it’s a long story) and was slightly taken aback by the latest brochure’s US$3000 estimate for Storm Trooper, a near-lifesize portrait by French artist Thierry Guetta (aka “Mr Brainwash”). Even ignoring the subject’s stature (I was reminded of Leia’s line to Luke in Star Wars: “Aren’t you a little short for a stormtrooper?”), this is pretty run-of-the-mill fan art and not even an original piece (just how limited an edition is this “digital print .. signed in ink on the left arm”?). The auction’s next Monday, but I don’t think I’ll be bidding.
As mentioned previously, I’m planning to resurrect Ghostwords TV as a regular broadcast via Vamporama Films‘ YouTube channel. In addition to my punditry, I intend to have occasional guests from the world of film, music and literature, and only this evening I arranged to film the first of those interviews next week at a recording studio in Stourbridge. Watch this space, as they say.
Swamp Thing (1982)
88 Films, certificate 15 (out 25 March)
Originally written for Dark Side magazine
The opportunity to write and direct a screen adaptation of the Len Wein / Bernie Wrightson horror comic came at an interesting juncture in Wes Craven’s career. Having navigated his way out of hardcore pornography through exploitation cinema (The Last House on the Left, The Hills Have Eyes) into the horror mainstream (Deadly Blessing), Swamp Thing allowed Craven to demonstrate his ability to handle action scenes, location work, special effects and a relatively tight $2.5m budget. Unfortunately, despite bringing the project in on schedule and within Avco Embassy’s cost estimates, it would be nearly three years before A Nightmare on Elm Street earned him wider recognition (by which time any comics fans picking up Swamp Thing on VHS would probably wonder why it diverged so much from Alan Moore’s 1983 reboot).
The movie was clearly aimed at a family audience, although 88 Films has chosen to go with the ‘European cut’; this version features brief nudity excised from the original US theatrical release, most notably a sequence in which its well-endowed heroine Adrienne Barbeau (The Fog, Escape from New York) skinnydips under the no doubt sexually frustrated gaze of mutated biologist Alex Holland (stunt man Dick Durock, who stepped in to play the beast of the bayou after Ray Wise (Twin Peaks) found the costume too clumbersome). Heading the cast as the urbane mad scientist Anton Arcane is Hollywood veteran Louis Jourdan (1977’s Count Dracula), who was most likely fulfilling a contractural obligation when he reprised the role in Jim Wynoski’s decidedly less effective 1989 sequel The Return of Swamp Thing.
In the excellent commentary track hosted by Sean Clark (Horror’s Hallowed Grounds), Craven readily admits there were problems with the production values – Jourdan’s climatic transformation into some kind of sword-wielding werewolf is more comical than comicbook – but Swamp Thing remains a fun romp, much of its charm lying in its being produced in an era before computer graphics became a kneejerk panacea for lazy film-makers.
Extras: slipcase, 16pp photobook and A3 poster (limited edition only); commentary by Wes Craven, which drops out during the nude scenes; interviews with production designer Robb Wilson King, critic Kim Newman; original trailer. The HD restoration is very nicely handled and my only regret is that 88 Films weren’t able to import the additional commentary by makeup artist William Munns and interviews with Adrienne Barbeau and Len Wein which appeared on Shout Factory’s 2013 Blu-ray (although that release omits Ms Barbeau’s steamy ablutions).
A rather leftfield thought struck me about the choice of actress Brie Larson to play Captain Marvel in the latest MCU cgi-fest, a move which has not escaped controversy. Might the casting team have confused her character with the original Captain Marvel, now billed (for convoluted legal reasons) as Shazam and long nicknamed “the big red cheese” by comics fans. After all, if you’re looking for a dairy product, why not a Brie? In any case, all these corporations really care about is the cheddar.
Hey, I didn’t claim it was a good theory…
Back in February 2016, I hosted the first episode in what was originally planned as a series of Ghostwords TV vidcasts distributed via the Vamporama Films YouTube channel. Technical problems scuppered the second instalment, but plans are afoot to resurrect the project later this month. More news soon.
Since this is primarily intended as a professional blog, with occasional more general commentary, I use Twitter for more personal updates — and one particular account, Dog Daze, is set aside for arguably the most enjoyable aspect of “social” media, photographs of dogs. In this case, Oscar the Yorkie (three years old last November) and Tikki the Westie (who celebrates her second birthday next month).
I was less than five months old when NBC aired the first episode of Thriller on 13 September 1960, fronted by the legendary Boris Karloff, and I’m fairly certain the show never made it across to these shores before the 1990s, when it became available for import on VHS and laserdisc. To be honest, if anyone had asked me about Thriller even then, I’d probably have thought they were talking about the 1970s anthology series devised by Brian Clemens whilst working on the screenplay for Captain Kronos Vampire Hunter.
Anyhow, I’ve spent the past month watching at least two episodes an evening, and the majority are rather splendid. Our host, Boris Karloff, brings his customary cocktail of menace, mirth and malarkey, even stepping centre-stage for a number of episodes. How irritating to learn that Alfred Hitchcock pushed for this show’s cancellation when NBC picked up The Alfred Hitchcock Hour, proving yet again what an insecure and petty little twat he could be when opportunity presented itself.