The Shadow

The Shadow (1994), based upon the classic radio and pulp serials of the same name, has not aged particularly well over the past 15 years. When I was just a lad of 11, I first watched this movie and thought it was great. It had everything: invisible guys, invisible buildings, bombs, cool cars, maniacal laughing, a sentient and murderous knife, communicating rings, and an attractive female lead (and yes, I could appreciate an attractive female lead at 11; I was an early bloomer). The film was a great superhero/crimefighter movie in the tradition of Tim Burton’s Batman films, but it always felt different somehow, probably owing to its origins not as a comic book, but as a radio serial.

But 1994 was a long time ago, both for me and for superhero movies. I’ve grown up somewhat; I expect a little more out of the movies I watch these days. And superhero films have definitely grown up. With the recent releases of Christopher Nolan’s Batman Begins and The Dark Knight, and the upcoming Watchmen, the superhero genre has been completely revamped. These are serious movies now, dealing with more realized characters, deep psychosocial themes, and garnering some serious critical and popular acclaim. Superhero movies have moved on, and hopefully they won’t be going back. Films like The Shadow and the first 4 installments of the Batman series, as well as a host of others ranging from The Fantastic Four to Elektra, are now little more than silly relics, reminders of when the genre was all about flash, and nothing about substance.

So it is with this genre sea change in mind that I recently viewed The Shadow for the first time in many years. First, let’s talk about the good, those few things that have held up.

The most obvious positive to my eye is Alec Baldwin’s performance as the title character and his alter ego, Lamont Cranston. Look, regardless of what the man has done in his personal life lately, and of how smarmy his characters have become of late, the man can act. He can act circles around most of the other schmucks currently slinking around the Hollywood scene. Granted, he has precious little help in this particular film, dealing with a ridiculous character and a poorly written script. But, true to form, he plays it for all he’s worth. I’ve never seen Baldwin half-ass his way through any role, regardless of how ridiculous or pointless it is. In fact, Baldwin’s performance may have actually benefitted from him backing off a tad. He plays Lamont’s sometimes ludicrous dialogue (including the aforementioned maniacal laugh) over-the-top, where a more subtle interpretation may have been a better fit.

Um, let’s see, what else is good? The music is fair, if a little unoriginal, sounding pretty much like a myriad of other blockbuster and thriller scores. This is unsurprising considering the film was scored by Jerry Goldsmith, a legend in his own right with over 240 film and TV composer credits in a career spanning 5 decades. I suppose after so many scores, you tend to develop some trademark musical themes that are revisited in most of your work.

The effects, art direction, and set design are a mixed bag here. Some of the effects are truly awesome, particularly the unveiling of the main villian’s base of operations. One of the main obstacles in this movie was creating a believable 1930s New York. On the small-scale, the art department has succeeded with appropriate costumes and vehicles (even if one of them is The Shadow’s souped-up taxi). But many of the sets are quite obviously anchored by a matte painting, poorly blended into the scene with the help of digital touch-ups. And some “outdoor” scenes are just as obviously filmed on a sound stage under artificial light. It’s one thing to know that your favorite movie is actually created and filmed on a studio sound stage, but it’s quite another thing to see this artificiality in the film itself.

Now, let’s really move on to the bad aspects of this film, because there are quite a few.

Aside from Baldwin, the performances here range from simply lackluster to laughably bad. I blame the actors, writers, and director for this. To start, Penelope Ann Miller and Ian McKellan, playing Lamont’s love interest Margo Lane and her father Reinhardt, are little more than place-holders. Miller succeeds admirably at playing the prototypical ‘30s dame, and not distinguishing herself in any way. And to waste the formidable talents of Ian McKellan on an absent-minded physicist who gets about 7 minutes of total screentime? That’s just unforgivable.

And let’s not forget the laughably bad acting: props go to John Lone and Tim Curry in this category. Lone plays the main villain, Shiwan Khan, descendant of the great Genghis Khan, and Curry is his smarmy, loopy pet physicist and wannabe dictator, Farley Claymore. Lone’s portrayal of Shiwan Khan is boring at best. There is no real menace, no real anger, no real anything. He’s the hollow figurehead of evil power with no real emotion or character development to back it up.

And Curry? He gets practically no screentime in the first half of the movie. Barely enough to establish that he’s skeazy, possibly unethical, and that he’s making a beryllium sphere, a key component to make Shiwan Khan’s atom bomb. How convenient. Then suddenly he appears out of nowhere, defies The Shadow’s attempts to control his mind (blatantly copied from Obi Wan Kenobe’s jedi mind trick), outsmarts The Shadow, and nearly kills him. Fast forward 20 minutes in the film, and The Shadow has the upper hand on Claymore and manages to drive him completely insane in a matter of 15 seconds through the use of….. get ready for it…. teasing and taunting. Yep, The Shadow just eludes Claymore’s bullets for about 15 seconds while simultaneously hurling insults at him, and the guy cracks like a rotten egg. Curry’s eyes get huge and luminous and he begins screeching and laughing like an idiot. It’s like he’s still trying to play Pennywise the Dancing Clown from Stephen King’s It. Guess what, Tim? Screeching and laughing and generally being batshit insane works when you’re playing a maniacal clown, but not so much when you’re just a bit-part physicist with aspirations to power.

Well, let’s see….. I’ve gone over the mediocre music, the spotty effects, the poor character development and acting. What else? Oh yes, getting back to the big picture: you’re not really expected to take this movie seriously. This is another in a long line of throw-away superhero movies, made in the hopes of a big box-office draw (mainly powered by kids dragging their families along), but not much else. It’s silly but rarely funny. It eschews any sense of realism for over-the-top superhero fantasy. Oh, it’s probably still fun for kids, but most adults will be looking for something a little more substantial from this type of film.

Plot & storyline: 5/10

Cinematography & effects: 4/10

Music & mood: 5/10

Performances: 4/10

The Reverend says: 5/10

Down by Law

On the surface, the plot of Jim Jarmusch's Down by Law (1986) sounds like the set-up for a cheesy joke: a radio DJ, a pimp, and an Italian tourist are thrown into jail together. The punchline? They'll have to get along long enough to make good on their escape.

Zack (Tom Waits) is a radio DJ with a problem with authority, and he's just been shit-canned by both his latest boss and his latest girlfriend. Down and out on the streets of New Orleans and looking to make a quick buck, Zack accepts a less-than-kosher gig to drive a stolen car across the city and abandon it. Small-time pimp Jack (John Lurie) is just looking to recruit a new girl when he gets set up in a police sting. And Bob the Italian tourist (Roberto Benigni) has a gambling problem that gets him into some hot water at a poker house. When he kills a man in self-defense, it lands him in jail, sharing a set of bunks with the aforementioned Jack and Zack.

But prison is only part of their problem, as perpetual losers Jack and Zack grate upon each other and come to blows on a few occasions. When the disgustingly cheery and optimistic Bob is thrown in the mix, Jack and Zack turn their anger on him. Eventually, through a shared love of cigarettes and cards, the three come to an uneasy peace in their oddly quiet prison, although Bob's continuing struggle with the English language serves as an intermittent annoyance for Jack and Zack, and a source of black comedy gold for the audience.

Soon, Bob discovers a way to escape, and the three misfits are off into the deep and dark swamps of Louisianna, running for their lives and searching desperately for any sign of civilization.

In Down by Law, we are not presented with a particularly original story. Three strangers come together in a desperate situation and find a delicate peace to see them through some sort of escape/adventure. Yeah, seen it a thousand times. But what sets this film somewhat apart are Jarmusch's casting choices and cinematic approach.

For starters, two of the main leads are played by musicians. In fact, in addition to acting in the film, John Lurie supplies its score while Tom Waits supplies all of its songs. And the absurdity doesn't stop there. The third main part is filled by Roberto Benigni, whose first footsteps on American soil were en route to this film's set and whose grasp of the English language mirrors his character's. Such casting choices represent quite a gambit for a young filmmaker, but Jarmusch didn't have studio backing to contend with. Of course, Waits and Lurie weren't exactly strangers to cinema either. Waits had landed a few parts previously, most notably in S.E. Hinton's classics, Rumblefish and The Outsiders. And Lurie had previously acted under Jarmusch in Permanent Vacation and Stanger than Paradise.

Cinematically, Jarmusch chooses to continue with the black and white film he rode to such critical success in Stranger than Paradise. But where Paradise is grainy and gritty, Down by Law is stark, with deep blacks and a large pallette of grays. With the aid of this type of film, Jarmusch shows us clearly the dark heart of New Orleans in the 1980s. Traveling shots along downtown reveal a city that is unlike any other in America: a sultry and sumptuous warzone of curruption, crime, and a cacophony of music. Down by Law's pathetic down-and-outers Jack and Zack seem right at home in Jarmusch's New Orleans.

The score of the film is very sparse, and that's exactly how Jarmusch wants it. According to him, music should never hijack a film's visuals, and it isn't there to overwhelm the audience and tell them how to feel. The music is rounded out by the odd song by Waits as well as mumbled lyrics from his character Zack.

For the vast majority of this film, Waits, Lurie, and Benigni are the only actors on screen, and as such, their performances must carry the film. While dialogue delivered by other minor characters sometimes feels rushed and over-scripted, the sparse interactions of the main actors are very well done. Highlights include a chanted mantra of "I scream, you scream, we all scream for ice cream!," and Benigni's unscripted, self-referential "rabbit soliloquy."

For fans of independent cinema, Jim Jaramusch's Down by Law is a classic that should not be missed.

Plot & storyline: 6/10
Cinematography & effects: 9/10
Mood & music: 7/10
Performances: 9/10

The Reverend says: 7/10

Curb Your Enthusiasm, Season 1

The first season of Curb Your Enthusiasm (2000) picks up thematically where Seinfeld left off 2 years before with the end of its impressive run. Of course, this isn’t surprising, as Enthusiasm’s creator and main star, Larry David, co-created Seinfeld and is the inspiration for George Costanza. So, in effect, Enthusiasm is a Seinfeld spin-off focused on Costanza. Except it’s not really George Costanza, and it’s definitely not Jason Alexander.

The show follows the quasi-real exploits of Larry David as he navigates his way through high-society and the sometimes murky and quirky ins and outs of the Hollywood scene. Larry is practically drowning in royalty money from Seinfeld and other projects, and he apparently has very little actual work to do, as he mostly lounges around Los Angeles, engaging in long lunches with his rascal agent, jogging, and generally making an ass of himself in various outrageously complicated situations.

While Enthusiasm’s themes of social obligations, annoyances, and awkwardness mirror those explored throughout Seinfeld, the structure of the show is substantially different. While Seinfeld was written, rehearsed, and scripted to perfection, Enthusiasm is created and filmed mostly in improv. Scripts include rough outlines of major scenes in an episode, but most of the dialogue is improvised. The show is filled out with a cavalcade of celebrities playing themselves, including Ted Danson, Julia Louis-Dreyfuss, and a recurring role for comedian Richard Lewis.

Here’s the thing about Curb Your Enthusiasm: if Seinfeld had never existed, Enthusiasm would be much funnier, edgier, and original. As it is, many episodes of Enthusiasm feel very Seinfeldian, and other episodes are practically verbatim retreads of Seinfeld episodes. It leaves the viewer feeling a little cheated. What Enthusiasm boils down to is a Seinfeld spin-off with harsher language and more adult themes (owing to its home on HBO).

Additionally, Larry David represents somewhat of a paradox. He is, after all, the real-life inspiration for Seinfeld’s George Costanza, but the bitch of it is, Jason Alexander is a much stronger comedic actor than David. As a result, Larry David’s portrayal of Larry David ends up being a weak echo of Jason Alexander’s portrayal of George Costanza (based on Larry David). George Costanza was a hero to every slacker around the globe. His convoluted attempts to work less, earn more, and basically get by in life on as little effort as humanly possible are both inspirational and comedic gold. Larry David, on the other hand, comes across as a whining, bumbling fool who continually makes poor jokes and firmly wedges himself into every socially awkward situation in the greater Los Angeles area.

I personally feel that improvisational dialogue is a poor fit for this show. I appreciate the attempt to keep the characters’ interactions fresh and surprising, but all too often, you end up with two characters batting the same line back and forth, trying to remember where the hell the scene is eventually supposed to end up. This is especially true for scenes with Larry and his wife Cheryl (played by Cheryl Hines). There is no chemistry between these two. They don’t feel like a married couple. They feel like two actors playing their separate parts and saying their separate lines and not once building any interactive chemistry.

Having said all this, Enthusiasm is not a bad show. In fact, I’d venture to say it’s at least an entertaining show, and it might possibly be a good show. This is, after all, just the first season, and I’m hopeful that the weak elements will get some attention and the actors’ chemistry with each other and with the improv style will coalesce with future seasons.

Highlights of season one include any scene featuring Larry’s agent Jeff Greene, played spot-on by comedian Jeff Garlin. He is a perfect Hollywood agent, equal parts skeaze, charm, and obsequiousness. He somehow manages to squeeze favors out of David, who is technically his boss, including stashing Greene’s cache of pornography and buying a birthday present for his terrifyingly up-tight mother.

David’s comedic timing is highlighted in the best (and funniest) episode of season one, in which he finds himself attending an incest survivors anonymous session with his ex-girlfriend as her moral support. When group members mistakenly think that he too is an incest survivor, instead of politely correcting them, he launches into a rambling and deadpan story of sexual exploits with his uncle.

For all its faults, Curb Your Enthusiasm is not a bad show. However, it must live in the shadow of its big brother Seinfeld, and sometimes the comparisons are unfavorable. But the show is funny its own way, and it’s at least worth a viewing.

Storyline and plot: 6/10

Cinematography and effects: 6/10

Music and mood: 5/10

Performances: 6/10

The Reverend says: 6/10

This is Spinal Tap

This is Spinal Tap (1984), the first in a string of mockumentaries penned by Christopher Guest, is a film that balances on the edge of a knife. Guest and director Rob Reiner aim to lampoon the hard rock scene of the early '80s, but at the same time, they wanted the portrayal of Spinal Tap to be realistic enough that an audience might mistake them for a real band. And some audiences did, so count Guest and Reiner winners in that category.

Of course, it helps that Spinal Tap was basically the first mock rockumentary to grace the silver screen. Most audiences would have had no reason to believe that Spinal Tap was nothing other than the real thing. Other than the dead giveaway of Rob Reiner playing the ersatz documentarian Marty DiBergi.

As far as laughs are concerned, there are quite a few, as the camera follow the on- and off-stage antics of the aging British rockers of Spinal Tap and their last-ditch rag-tag American concert tour. Spinal Tap is past their prime. They know it. Their fans know. Their manager knows it. But they all try like hell not to show it, and to breathe a little life into their lackluster latest album (whose cover is an all-black spin on the Beatles' White Album!). Along the way, concerts are cancelled, and tensions within the band come to the breaking point when front-man David St. Huggins' girlfriend decides to join the tour.

The acting in this film is superb, and the comedy, for the most part, is character-driven and subtly satirical. The actors play their parts just up to the point of over-the-top, but never actually over that proverbial top. And look for cameos galore in this movie, including Fran Drescher, Anjelica Huston, Paul Schaffer, Fred Willard, and Billy Crystal and Dana Carvey as a couple of mime waiters (you just kinda have to see it).

Spinal Tap's music, which is pretty much the score to the film, is hilariously absurd rock opera, the unholy lovechild of Ween, Meatloaf, and Led Zeppelin, if you can imagine that. A sample of the lyrics from "Big Bottom" should help:

The bigger the cushion, the sweeter the pushin'
That's what I said
The looser the waistband, the deeper the quicksand
Or so I have read

My baby fits me like a flesh tuxedo
I'd like to sink her with my pink torpedo

And each performance becomes more absurd than the last, culminating in a show featuring Druid dwarves and a diminutive Stonehenge. Did I say back there that the comedy was subtle? Well, I guess the comedic acting is a subtle counterpoint to hilariously absurd situations.

NOTE: From here on out, in addition to the final rating, I'm going to be giving a rating breakdown as well.

Storyline and plot: 7/10

Cinematography and effects: 8/10

Music and mood: 8/10

Performaces: 9/10

The Reverend says: 7/10

Ducktales: Vol. 1

That's right. You know you watched Ducktales. Scrooge, Huey, Dewey, Louie, Launchpad, Gizmoduck, and all the gang from Duckburg. And currently 75 of the 100 series episodes are available on DVD in three volumes. Volume 1 contains 25 episodes from the 1st season in no particular order. It feels as if the producers of Vol 1 had no idea if there would be subsequent volumes released, so they just threw the 25 episodes that they felt were the best or most representative of the series. Regardless, the integrity of continuity was never a huge factor in the series, so nothing lost.

As a kid, I loved Ducktales. The theme song was infectious, the characters were well-written and well-developed, there were airplanes, greed, gadgets, ghosts, and a buttload of adventures. It's true; it had its low points (Cave Duck, anyone?), but it was almost always worth the watch.

Watching Ducktales as an adult (well, that's a relative term, I guess), I must say that it has aged particularly well. It's still funny and heartfelt in all the right places. It still holds the viewer's attention. It's true that the show is a little, uh, heavy on the capitalist doctrine, but there are a surprising number of triumphs of cultural sensitivity and social welfare in the shadow of Scrooge's money bank. College freshmen should watch this show. Seriously. It's Econ 101 and Anthro 101 all in a convenient cartoon package.

So let's talk favorites here: obviously, the nephews are filler. Always have been, always will be. The Beagle Boys, while providing one leg of a necessary triumvirate of evil, are walking talking cliches, and as such they get old fast. The other two components of the Duckburg Axis of Evil are more promising. Flintheart Glomgold is a twisted reflection of Scrooge McDuck, but you can't help but think that Scrooge is just a few tough breaks away from being his bitter rival. And Magicka the witch's attempts to swipe Scrooge's lucky dime are entertaining and complex enough to almost work.

The real stars of Vol 1 are Scrooge himself and his pilot Launchpad. Scrooge has some of the best lines of any episode, with his Scottish brogue and phrases, and his relentless quest for just one more dollar. And Launchpad is the noble idiot, deeply naive, but with a heart of gold, and a desire to succeed despite his questionable skills as a pilot (he can fly anything with a propeller or wings, but he just can't seem to land). For the series, I would count Gizmoduck (Blatherin Blatherskite!) as another favorite, but he doesn't show up until Vol. 3, so I'll leave him for the proper time.

The Reverend says: 8/10.