Movieline Online

THE FLICKS: One of the few downsides of watching movies in the digital age is the absence of that taboo-busting sense of “naughtiness” that came with popping in a VHS tape of questionable artistic value. Housed in oversized boxes with lurid or lascivious cover art, these video nasties stood sentinel amongst a sea of more legitimate releases. No one seemed to rent them – at least in the light of day - but the torn and tattered packaging suggested otherwise. And the tag lines seemed to suggest that if one only had the courage to carry one of these titles to the front counter, take it home and watch the contents under the dim half-light of a 25-inch wood-paneled Zenith you’re life would never be the same again. Of course, it was all a tease. Most of those films were atrociously dubbed, ineptly produced overseas exploitation quickies...about 75-percent of which were made by Jess Franco. But the memory of that experience was enough to inspire several companies in the DVD era to specialize i...

THE FLICK: Director Dario Argento’s body of work is not unlike that of horror-rockabilly icons The Cramps, who’ve been performing minor variations of the same song since 1982. If you own one Cramps album, you essentially own them all. Ditto for Argento’s films, which, more often that not, revolve around the witness to some horrific crime who spends the entire movie trying to recall one crucial piece of evidence before falling victim to a black-gloved killer. After 1970’s The Bird With The Crystal Plumage, it would be easy to write Argento off as a one-shot auteur (which defies the very definition of the word), but like The Cramps, there is a certain genius in the minute variations; as if the creators are perfecting their craft, chipping away at a masterpiece that is as yet unfinished. The Stendhal Syndrome is not that masterpiece. But it is the director’s most mature and professional work in the modern era (I’m talking anything post-Opera), anchored by a challenging performance from hi...

THE FLICK: Even three decades after its release, Deliverance is still more of a punchline than a film, at least by popular culture standards; freeze-framing the movie at the 45-minute mark, forever enshrining poor Ned Beatty as he’s violated by a overall-wearing mountain man who prompts him to “squeal like a pig!” That’s really the only way for the male psyche to effectively deal with the trauma of director John Boorman’s infamous scene: to laugh it off. But the film, based on the novel by James Dickey, is far more than a convenient stand-up comedy routine. In fact, Boorman’s adaptation is one of the best examples of pure cinema of its era, mixing narrative, documentary and experimental techniques to achieve a unique tone all its own. Witness the “Dueling Banjos” sequence (arguably the film’s other pop-culture touchstone), a brilliantly edited, scored and shot series of images that capture a moment in time the way no other medium could. Boorman runs you through a range of emotions; it’...