Maximum Overdrive (USA, 1986)

Today, over 25 years after the movie came out, the irony of the trailer still remains breathtaking: in it, when it comes to making a filmic adaptation of his work, Stephen King loudly proclaims that "If you want it done right, you have to do it yourself." And the final result? One of the worst-made Stephan King movies ever — a truly noteworthy feat, considering how many crappy King flicks there are out there.

Of course, since the day he foisted this mildly enjoyable if incredibly flawed turd upon the world, King has gone on record as having been totally coked out of his mind when he made the movie, which does indeed explain some of the flaws, especially the one that this movie shares with many of his verbose, mid-career Moby Dick wanna-be novels: despite always being best sellers, they (like this movie) tend to lose their direction amidst a plethora of unneeded, diffuse characters.

And too many characters this movie does indeed have: many, when they die, the viewer has a hard time even placing where they showed up earlier in the film, while others (including some that survive to sail off into the sunrise) are shallow stereotypes that are perhaps meant to be funny but are at best annoying or, at worst, offensive (the black guy killed by the game machines leads the list here). Much like too many cooks spoil the brew, too many characters dilute the movie.

Maximum Overdrive is based on the short story Trucks, which isn't even one of the best ones found in the compilation in which it appears, Night Shift. A simple tale focusing on a small group of people trapped in the diner of roadside gas station when a passing space cloud causes all machines to come alive and attack humanity. In the movie, once the starting situation is explained (and presented by a cheesy-looking green cloud surrounding a photo of the earth glued against a starry sky), the revolt of the machines kicks off with a laugh — with a "Fuck You" on a electronic bank sign and an ATM calling a dorky guy (Stephan King himself) an asshole — before segueing into two truly excellent scenes: the disorganized panic and destruction caused of a revolting drawbridge that opens by itself, and a kid's baseball game beset by killing machines. (The last features a great killer soda pop machine and a cement roller gone wild.)

These opening scenes, followed by the later extended scene of the lone surviving kid, Deke Keller (Holter Graham of Hairspray [1988 / trailer], Six Ways to Sunday [1997 / trailer] and The Curse [1999 / trailer]), wandering through a desolate suburbia full of death, destruction and machines out to kill, truly lead the viewer into believing that the film is going to be a good one — and that Stephan King might indeed have some talent as a director. True, too few killer machines seem to be out and about — there had to be a lot to kill as many people as they did, but we more or less only see one lawnmower and one ice-cream truck — but the scenes have a visual impact and work, which is the thing of importance.

Regrettably, Maximum Overdrive never again gets close to achieving the force or effectiveness of these first ten minutes and, throughout the rest of the movie, drags, annoys, bores, or flabbergasts in its general incompetency — at which point the viewer can't help but suddenly noticing all the flick's narrative inconsistencies, the biggest of which is that although it is inferred that all machines come alive (for example: the electric carving knife that attacks the waitress [Ellen McElduff] or, earlier and in passing, a hair-dryer that obviously strangled its user and a walkman that destroyed some poor sap's brain), too many don't: the cars of various characters, the motorboats in the harbor during the escape on water, virtually all the electronic gadgets at the diner, etc. etc. etc. Indeed, most of the time, aside for the trucks and M151 MUTT with a mounted machine gun, once the final group of humans has gathered together, the world is surprisingly empty of killer gadgets. And, hell, if pinball machines go homicidal, why don't the fucking ceiling lights? And what about the restaurant's radio? And, and — ah, hell: better not get started on that.

In the end, the true flaw of the movie is not the plot inconsistencies; it is the movie's inability to maintain enough tension to cover up the inconsistencies. Once the stereotypical Bible huckster (Christopher Murney of Barton Fink [1991 / trailer]) gets hit by the truck, Maximum Overdrive begins grinding its gears and quickly begins to instigate yawns. This flaw is aggravated by the fact that most of the characters are so one-note and uninteresting, while the few efforts to add character dimension — see: Bill Robinson's (Emilio Estevez) attempt to explain his youthful stupidity to the mandatory love interest Brett Graham (Laura Harrington of Midnight Cabaret [1990 / trailer]) — are oddly wooden and unconvincing. (In general, and in particular the tertiary characters such as the Bible huckster or hick bridesmaid Connie [Yeardley Smith], Maximum Overdrive reveals one of the biggest weaknesses of King's plethora of minor characters: on film, they tend to be shallow or exaggerated stereotypes, for unlike in his books they don't have untold pages of verbosity to tell the full who, what, when, where, why and how behind them.)

What the fuck, though, slagging this movie is a bit like whipping a dead horse since the little reputation it has is a bad one. So, to go ever slightly against the grain: although Maximum Overdrive is indeed a bad movie that need not be put on anyone's "Must See" list, it isn't 100% santorum-dripping elephant anus. The first ten minutes are really good, as are many of the special effects (those that have aged badly have at least become funny). Likewise, Deke Keller (the surviving kid) and one or two other characters — Handy (an underused Frankie Faison, of C.H.U.D. [1984 / trailer], Exterminator 2 [1984 / trailer] and For Sale by Owner [2009 / trailer]) and hillbilly Curtis (John Short) — actually overcome the one-dimensionality of their characters. And, furthermore, more than once King shows a creative eye in his camerawork, be it the visual composition of the shot, the use of foreground and background, or an effective if short dolly shot... given a film or two more, he might have developed some minor directorial skill.

Had Maximum Overdrive only been a bit more bloody, had it only been a bit more unremittedly trashy or sleazy, had it only had more bare skin (it has none), had it only been directed by a no-name, it might have been an acceptable if un-noteworthy trash film. As it is, however, it is only a lesson in how, much like when it comes to your plumbing repairs at home, "If you want it done right, don't do it yourself."

And, of course, how you should lay off the coke when making a movie — a lesson we actually thought already taught three years earlier when Vic Morrow and two kids lost their heads during the filming of the John Landis segment of The Twilight Zone (1983 / trailer).

Der Schwarze Abt / The Black Abbot (Germany, 1963)

Whether or not one views Der Schwarze Abt aka The Black Abbot as the 13th or 15th of the German post-war Wallace series depends how you look at it: two earlier Wallace films of the 15 to the date of this movie's release, Der Racher / The Avenger (1960 / German trailer) and Der Fluch der Gelben Schlange / The Curse of the Yellow Snake (1963 / German trailer), were not Horst Wendlendt Rialto productions; purists, therefore, do not count them as among the "real" German Wallace films, despite the fact that they also shared many of the same actors and, in the case of Der Schwarze Abt and Der Fluch der Gelben Schlange, the same director, Franz Josef Gottlieb (1 Nov 1930 — 23 July 2006).

We took a small look at Der Schwarze Abt last year in Part II of our RIP career review of Joachim "Blacky" Fuchsberger, where we call it the 13th Wallace film. Recently we had the pleasure of re-watching it, and while it really wasn't quite as good as we remembered, we did enjoy it — as did our company that evening, who had last seen the movie around 30 years ago, when she was a wee lass much too young to even be described as prepubescent; she marveled greatly at the fact that once upon a time, the movie scared her poopless. It didn't now, and won't anyone — unless the viewer happens to be too young to even be described as prepubescent.

The Black Abbot is often claimed to be the first Wallace film to move away from straight crime and into the "Gothic", we would tend to disagree: Harald Reinl's Der Fälscher vonLondon (1961 / trailer), which shares the same castle as its setting — Schloss Herdringen as Chelford Manor (Abbot) or Longford Manor (Fälscher) — also moves well into the Gothic, possibly even more so due to the movie's Expressionistic touches and all the scenes of Jane (Karin Dor) running around darkened hallways in her white nightgown.

Between the two movies, we really must say that Reinl's film is the superior one, which isn't to say that the movie here doesn't have its high points, including an exceptionally effective Klaus Kinski as the two-face butler and a convincingly nutso Lord Harry Chelford (Dieter Borsche of Der Henker von London [1963 / trailer], Die toten Augen von London [1961 / English trailer] and Der Pfarrer von St. Pauli [1970 / TV trailer]).

Like all Wallace films, the plot is confusing and difficult to follow and pretty all over the place, but unlike so often in the series, the ridiculous aspects and the logical parts do jell to create a relatively comprehensible and linear plot, providing you listen closely. Hell, even the first murder gets explained, as does the whole subplot involving an old lady in black that shows up once or twice and a bearded man who pops up out of nowhere to steal documents from a secret passage. So listen carefully and you'll be able to follow the plot as well, despite all the characters that flit in and out and about the movie. (Red Herrings and too many characters are the salt and pepper of German krimis, after all.)

The two main threads around which the film is constructed and the bodies fall are, firstly, that of a lost hidden treasure at Chelford Manor and, secondly, the lead female Leslie Gine (Grit Boettcher of Der Mönch mit der Peitsche [1967 / German trailer] and [Der Tod im roten Jaguar 1968 / German trailer]), a relatively colorless and uninteresting woman that, for some odd reason, a variety of men are enamored with — including her arranged husband-to-be, the slightly unhinged Lord Harry Chelford (Dieter Borsche), who's also obsessed with finding the treasure, the crooked Fabian Gilder (Werner Peters, of the masterpiece of East German post-war cinema, Der Untertan aka The Kaiser's Lackey [1951 / German trailer]), and the possible good guy Dick Alford (Joachim Fuchsberger), who is reticent about his feelings as she is promised to his cousin Lord Harry Chelford, for whom he works as steward of the manor. Other figures of more and lesser importance slink around in the shadows of the castle, all pursuant of their own secret or not-so-secret agendas. Who is the good guy and who is the bad? For most of the movie you don't know, though you can be assured that, like the wet-rag lead female lead, the Scotland Yard Detective Puddler (Charles Regnier of A Study in Terror [1965 / trailer]) and his comic sidekick Horatio W. Smith (Eddi Arent) are good guys.

While an enjoyable Wallace, and perhaps even one of the better ones, The Black Abbot is a bit slow now then, visually and narratively. Some of the camerawork is rather inventive, if not humorous, but often enough it is also rather staid and stiffly blocked. Also, there is a lot of dialog in the movie: sometimes it seems as if all that really happens is that characters meet and talk, and then meet others and talk, and then re-meet again and talk. Nevertheless, there are a few murders and the big showdown in the cellar (if somewhat clumsy in how its staged) is fun enough and nicely ironic and is pretty good — though, as often is the case in the Wallace films featuring Eddie Arendt playing a dolt, he shows up to do a last gag which ruins the mood. Still, on the whole The Black Abbot is a fun and entertaining krimi and Wallace flick, and perfect for a rainy afternoon.

Director Franz Josef Gottlieb, by the way, was a highly prolific Austrian director. He followed The Black Abbott, his first Rialto Wallace film, with yet another Rialto Wallace film (Der Gruft mit dem Rätselschloß [1964 / German trailer]), a couple of Bryan Edgar Wallace films, a few Wallace imitations, an even larger number of dumb sex comedies, and a couple of low-brow classics, including the eternally entertaining Lady Dracula (1977 / German trailer).

Short Film: Help! My Snowman Is Burning Down (USA, 1964)

Here's quaint piece of Surrealism from the 1960s that once walked away with award nominations, including for an Oscar.  (Contrary to what is said all over the web, it did not win: it lost to Larry Sturhahn's Casals Conducts: 1964.) 

"An absurdist farce, with music by Gerry Mulligan and Bob Brookmeyer"; and, as the final credits of the short say, "The accident [...] was written produced and directed by CarsonDavidson." Davidson, as far as we can tell, though a productive filmmaker, only ever made one feature film: the unknown The Wrong Damn Film (1975),* starring Barry Bostwick.

In Help! My Snowman Is Burning Down, the gent in the hat is played by Bob Larkin, also found in bit parts from films ranging from Putney Swope (uncredited, 1969 / bouncing boobs & song) to Friday the 13th Part XI: Jason Lives (1986 / trailer I / trailer II). The exotic dancer is played by Dian Robertson, about who we know nothing. Do you? Please let us know.
Over at Oddball Films, they explain the short as follows: " Help! My Snowman Is Burning Down stands out as wholly unique in the annals of Academy history, for no nominated film can stake a claim to being as truly experimental and immersively engaging as Carson Davidson’s surreal masterpiece, melding Magritte with Duchamp, but maintaining its own perverse American sense of humor." More cute than substantial, less meaningful than entertaining, Help! My Snowman Is Burning Down is a fun blast from the past that, at about 9 minutes in length, doesn't overstay its welcome.

*According to TV Guide: "This sophomoric satire on politics came out in the wake of Watergate. Badly bungled from beginning to end, the film received only a few showings before mercifully disappearing without a trace."

Tank Girl (USA, 1995)

Based on the comic character created by Jamie Hewlett and Alan Martin, this movie is one of those films that works much better on video than it ever did in the cinema when it first came out (and couldn't help but fail to meet fan-boy/girl expectations).

Supposedly the studios butchered director Rachel Talalay's final version of Tank Girl, re-editing it to fit what they thought the public wanted, so perhaps one shouldn't castigate Talalay too much for her seemingly weak control of the material. Still, she was never really all that memorable of a feature-movie director — her other big screen credits being the less than impressive Ghost in the Machine (1993 / trailer) and the 6th Nightmare on Elm Street film, Freddy’s Dead: The Final Nightmare (1991 / trailer) — and definitely seems more at home on the small screen, where she has remained (very busy) since Tank Girl came out and, well, tanked.

Now, twenty years later, Tank Girl reminds one a bit of Michael Sarne's Myra Breckinridge (1970 / trailer), another big-budget period piece that works more in spite of itself than anything else. Even Talalay's annoying tendency to pad her film with snippets from the original Tank Girl comics recalls Sarne's technique in Myra Breckinridge of inter-cutting incongruent scenes from old Hollywood films — a technique that works better in Sarne's now enjoyably dated plane wreck of a movie.

Lori Petty, like Thora "Super Star" Birch an actress with personality long in search of a career — anyone ever see Bates Motel (1987 / trailer), Route 666 (2001 / trailer) or Cryptid (2006 / trailer)? — takes to her character like a fish takes to water. Perfectly cast as the ultimate party girl, a shaven-headed punkette with more oneliners than pubic hairs, she obviously loved making this film and that definitely helps carry the film. Seeing her in action leaves one happy that the long since forgotten but then hot young actress of the time, Emily Lloyd, was tossed from the project. In turn, to look at the next name of the time, Malcolm McDowell, who started his career as a counter-culture favorite in such movies as If... (1968 / trailer), A Clockwork Orange (1971 / trailer) and O Lucky Man! (1973 / trailer) before sliding into eternal pay-the-rent mundanity — Does he say "No" to anything? — recreates his cut-and-dried megalomaniac bad guy characterization that he has come to specialize in since he derailed his semi-mainstream career with Caligula (1980 / trailer). Neither good nor bad, McDowell simply fits the role, which can also be said of Ice-T (3000 Miles to Graceland* [2001] and Tara [2003]) as the mutant kangaroo T-Saint. Sure he's fun, but then, so are all the other mutant kangaroos; casting him had less to do with any stroke of brilliance than it did probably with the hope of free publicity (much the same reason John Waters cast Traci Lords in the Talalay-produced John Waters' film Cry Baby [1990 / trailer], a great film that lives and breathes novelty casting).

* For some strange reason, the review of this flick is the most-read review on this blog — and has been for at least four years.

 

The story of Tank Girl? Well, imagine a motor-mouthed, high-sexed Mad Max with a vagina driving a tank while drinking cocktails, who, between changing outfits, teams up with mutant kangaroos — "bohemians dedicated to sex, poetry and partying," according to The Washington Post — to fight Big Business. Years from now — 2033, to be exact — on a world in which Bruce Willis failed to stop Armageddon (1998 / trailer), the comet has long since crashed into the planet and left behind a scorched earth in which water is the most valuable commodity. Caught illegally siphoning water by the Water & Power Company, Big Bad Boss Kesslee (McDowell) has all Tank Girl's friends at her home base wiped out but, for some strange reason, takes her prisoner and forces her to work in the mines. She hooks up with Jet Girl (an at-the-time unknown Naomi Watts, of Undertaking Betty [2002]) and falls in love with a tank (thus becoming "Tank Girl") before the two babes both escape. Hearing that her favorite little girl Sam (Stacy Linn Ramsower) wasn't killed in the W&P's raid but was instead sent to a brothel, Tank Girl's maternal instincts kick in and she sets out to save the little girl, an action that leads to a fabulous Cole Porter sing-along dance routine, probably the highpoint of the film and an example of how hilariously off the wall the film could've been.

Were the action a success, the film would've been much too short and neither Tank Girl nor Jet Girl would've hooked up with the Rippers, the group of mutant kangaroos who first can't decide if they should kill the two or bonk them, but finally team up with them for the big showdown against Kesslee and the Water & Power Company — and a lot more weirdness that, oddly, often seems like weirdness-lite. Still, no film can be all bad when the main character tends to say such wonderfully politically incorrect things like "You gotta think about it like the first time you got laid. You gotta go: 'Daddy, are you sure this is right'?" (A joke that would surely no longer make the final cut of any movie made today.)

Tank Girl is not a particularly intelligent film, and falls flat on its face much too often, but it does have a spunk and liveliness that makes it oddly appealing — in no small part thanks to Lori Petty. Good for a go with a six-pack, junk food and some sinsemilla.