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Silent cinema had a lot of  firsts …many of which we’ll never see since 75% of the productions are completely lost.  So even if 1918’s  Stella Maris , starring Mary Pickford, isn’t the first example of an actor playing a dual role in a film, it’s certainly the most polished early example on record!   Pickford first appears as the title character, a paralyzed young girl kept safe from the world’s problems by her wealthy relatives and wooed by a dashing suitor, John Risca.  Risca however is saddled with an alcoholic wife who makes his life miserable.  Not quite as miserable as their new adopted daughter, Unity (also played by Pickford), whom she beats senseless, winding up in prison for three years.  Risca’s life takes a turn for the better, taking Unity under his wing and strengthening his bond with Stella Maris, who is finally able to walk after a successful operation.  But after the three years are up, Risca’s wife returns and everyone’s happy ending is put on hold…indefinitely.   Wit

Messiah of Evil  (1974) exists in that rare sub-genre: the counter-culture horror movie.  Typically more philosophical than overtly frightening, the films utilize a dream-logic that mirrors the experience of a bad acid trip.  But directors Willard Huyck and Gloria Katz also incorporate some visually dramatic set-pieces proving their commercial aspirations were just as genuine as their psychedelic inspirations. Arriving in Point Dune to reconnect with her artist father, Arletty gets the cold shoulder from residents who seem to be keeping his location a secret.  Meanwhile another trio of eccentric travelers have stirred up trouble by asking questions about the town’s supernatural history involving an incident of mass hysteria that dates back over 100 years.  Now it seems that a “dark stranger” is returning to finish what he started…and Point Dune is just a test case for global apocalypse.   There’s a lot to “unpack” in  Messiah of Evil , including cosmic horror, cannibalism and a raging

If the French New Wave was about upending genre conventions, it’s subsequent iteration – New French Cinema – was more likely to incorporate those same conventions into something more polished but equally anti-establishment.  Alain Cavalier’s 1962 film,  Le Combat dans L’ile , takes elements from film noir, romantic melodrama and political critique to craft a complex debut that’s cinematic grandstanding in the best possible way.  Clément (Jean-Louis Trintignant) and Anne (Romy Schneider) are a married couple at odds over their lifestyle.  A former actress, Anne longs for excitement and romance, but, unbeknownst to her, Clément is living a double life as a political extremist.  When an assassination attempt goes wrong, the couple escape to the country home of an old friend, Paul (Henri Serre), who agrees to hide Anne while her husband goes on the run.  Romance blossoms unexpectedly and just as Paul and Anne are beginning to start a new life, Clément returns to claim what’s rightfully his

The appeal of most no-budget filmmaking is its blissful ignorance of professional techniques.  After all, these movies are a labor of love made by people who have more enthusiasm than experience.  But every once in a while, an obscurity pops up that proves an exception to the rule.   The Wrong Door , eventually released in 1990 thanks to a collaboration with Film Threat Video Guide, is a shot on Super 8 suspense effort produced by a team of Midwest film school grads who come awfully  close to matching the polished output of their inspirations. Ted has a radio drama project due in 24 hours, but he can’t say no to a quick singing telegram gig even if it involves a silly Jester costume.  While on the job he knocks on the wrong apartment, interrupting an argument that later leads to a woman’s death.  Regretting his cowardice, Ted gets a second chance when the body winds up in the backseat of his car.  Now in possession of a vital piece of evidence and pursued by the murderer, Ted (still in

Later in his career Roger Corman would admit that the posters designed for his B-movies were nothing but a tease, often created before a script was even written.  The films were a poor – but enjoyable – substitute for whatever was promised in print.  The same thing could be said of the Frank Frazetta  Conan  paperback covers that reinvigorated interest in Robert E. Howard’s famous barbarian. And, if we’re being honest, it applies to Roger Vadim’s  Barbarella  (1968), which features one of the most iconic movie posters in film history….but only meets its audience halfway.  Based on the French comic strip by Jean-Claude Forest, Jane Fonda plays the title character, a sexpot secret agent tasked with returning a renegade scientist, Duran Duran, to the planet Earth before his secret weapon destroys the stability of the galaxy.  Sleeping her way into the resistance led by the bumbling Dildano (David Hemmings), Barbarella charms herself out of many a dangerous situation before leading a revol

Universal was particularly keen on the direct-to-video sequel.  Any semi-successful property in the ‘90s was turned into an unlikely franchise including  Bring It On  (6 sequels),  American Pie  (5 sequels),  Dragonheart  (4 sequels) and even  Darkman  (2 sequels).   Tremors  (1990), the surprisingly successful creature feature with a cast seemingly chosen at random from a lottery ping pong ball machine, is currently up to six sequels as well with Michael Gross as gung-ho survivalist Burt Gummer starring in every single one of them.  Full disclosure, I thought I had skipped them all.  But I had a vague memory of watching – and enjoying –  Tremors 2: Aftershocks  (1996) at some point.  An opinion happily confirmed upon viewing Arrow Video’s new 4K Ultra HD limited edition! Dead broke after the fame and fortune of becoming a celebrity monster hunter, Earl Bassett (Fred Ward) is tempted to step back into the ring when an oil company in Mexico hires him to solve their “graboid” problem at

Peter Weir’s name isn’t mentioned near enough in the pantheon of great directors.  Perhaps because he was never much of a self-promotor.  His transition from Australian New Wave icon to Hollywood workhorse was accomplished with a minimum of compromises.  In short, he still made films  his  way, no matter in which country he was making them.  Take  Witness  for example, the 6 th  highest grossing film of 1985, which manages to look and feel more like Ingmar Bergman than Steven Spielberg.  It’s an outlier, like most of Weir’s work, and an exception that proves the rule of mainstream success. On a rare trip away from his Amish farm, young Samuel (Lukas Haas) is witness to a murder in the bathroom of a Philadelphia train station.  He and his mother, Rachel (Kelly McGillis) are taken under the protection of detective John Book (Harrison Ford) whose suspicions of a police conspiracy are soon proved correct.  Taking shelter in a Pennsylvania Amish community, Book attempts to keep his key witn

At the height of the pay cable softcore renaissance, Showtime went out and hired the director of one of the most memorable sex scenes in cinema history to craft a highbrow version of their usual smut.  The result was  Full Body Massage  (1995), a Nicolas Roeg joint that found the auteur responsible for Donald Sutherland and Julie Christie’s celebrated coital encounter in  Don’t Look Now  staging a cerebral mind-fuck between Mimi Rogers and Bryan Brown.  It’s one of the more inexplicable career moves for all involved…but not without its merits.  Nina (Mimi Rogers) is a successful art dealer who likes to keep her life on schedule.  But things get out of whack when Fitch (Bryan Brown) shows up for her weekly massage rather than her usual boy toy.  A world-traveler with a philosophical bent, Fitch pushes Nina’s buttons while he kneads her muscles, resulting in lengthy conversations about marriage, professions and the meaning of life.   In an interview Rogers described the film as  My Dinne