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Picture yourself at a Paramount Pictures pitch conjunction, circa 1986. MTV is at an arguable summit, ringlets bands are sprouting, Michael Jackson’s nose is two-thirds intact and Madonna lords supreme over the Principal 40 radio airplay crowd. Can you visualize the reactions of the suits behind the desk when presented with a proposal into a big screen reunion of the king and queen of the Beach Party flicks? Studio Executive: “You wanna spend money by putting those Polaroid spokespeople in a motion picture?”

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Promptly, the imaginary quote illustrious above didn’t uncommonly occur, but it oh, so likely crystallized the mentality of your typical hypocritical-breasted attired brass hats (and we’re talking Frankie and Annette, not James and Mariette, you idiot!) But as I finish my movie profession outdo back on, I can degree side with Mr. Polyester who contemporarily has to take into account a gigantic-budget big with two leads with plumb little name recognition amongst the highly coveted teen demographic, save for a casual mention from their parents while waxing nostalgic about the drive-in pictures of their youth.

That same predicament certainly must clothed crossed the minds of the writers while developing this project, when out of the blue they must contain fathomed, “That’s it!” Not unlike parents in real life, why change anything involving this beachcombing coupling? Conserve for Frankie’s conservatism, let’s sustenance these kids close to their roots, stiff hairdos and all, while their progeny and the rest of the world moves forward. And that’s exactly the scenario we contention as Back to the Beach begins.

Our favorite sun-and-sand warbler, Frankie (Avalon), has traded in his trunks and surfboard for sharkskin suits in latest years as one of the hottest auto salesmen in Ohio. Meanwhile, loving wife Annette (Funicello) is gratified to play homemaker, always experimenting with recipes for a rather traditional-looking brand of peanut butter (just a couple of scoops bashful of Stepford territory, Ms. Mousketeer). But behind her hubby’s showroom swagger lies a seriously burned-out grownup that’s forgotten how to be a kid.

With a wee nudging from the whilom princess of pineapples and pajama parties, it’s mouldy to the Aloha state with punk-loving’ son Bobby (Demian Slade) along in requital for the flight. During a layover on the West Glide, Annette talks Frankie into paying a visit to daughter Lori’s (Lori Loughlin) beachfront memo pad, which just happens to be within walking distance of their old silent picture set, er, stomping grounds. But the strain reunion turns X-rated when Pop finds out his beloved little sweetheart (they’re in any case “little” no matter cast off they are) is living in infraction with neighbourhood surfer dude Michael (Tommy Hinkley). Frankie wants to hop aboard the next go out of pocket of town, but a unintentional reunion with old flame Connie (Connie Stevens) changes his tune. Before you can utter the syllables “flash” and “back”, Annette snaps out of her decade-return single emotion slumber as that classic ‘grab the next single guy’ jealous rush kicks in.

Ah, at once all that’s missing are an American Intercontinental Pictures logo and Eric Von Zipper (rest in temperate, Harvey Lembeck).

Thanks to its ’80s glow and appealingly nostalgic nods to its leads cinematic pasts, Again to the Beach aches not only for the sake rediscovery, but for a place of honor in the cult film passageway of pre-eminence. Naturally those of us who gravitated to those endearingly laughable Beach Confederation cadre movies via afternoon matinees and late-late shows on television intent acquire to this in a heartbeat, but those unfamiliar with the series’ past will find themselves attracted by latter date nostalgia induced by appearances from Bright Lineage’s Loughlin, guitar great Stevie Ray Vaughn (rocking it up with fellow six-train legend Dick Dale) and the ever wacky Pee-Wee Herman whose surrealistic, impromptu rendition of The Trashmen’s antiquated ’60s garage band rave-up Surfin’ Bird is a major high point. Speaking of musical Beach peaks, if someone had told me that an Annette Funicello production number set to ska music would be a man of the coolest things I’ve at all seen in the history of cinema song and ball (choreographed by Kid Creole and the Coconuts alumnus Lori Eastside), I’d said they were nuts.

Oh, and as our overdue tenebriousness video receiver mate David Letterman used to say back in the NBC days, “If that’s not satisfactorily…and by gosh, don’t you think it oughta’ be?” there’s an abundance of okay-integrated cameos from the likes of 77 Sunset Strip’s Ed “Kookie” Byrnes (but no scene with co-star Connie Stevens? C’mon!), the brothers Cleaver themselves (Tony Dow and Jerry Mathers), the always funny Don Adams of Rub someone up the wrong way Smart stardom and everybody’s “little buddy,” Bob Denver, as a bartender who can’t aide but emerge derogatory tidbits of a life-altering shipwreck along with those archipelago drinkies (where’s the Skipper and his servilely when you deprivation him?)

“Waterworld” isn’t “Fishtar,” but Kevin Costner’s pricey, brief-apocalyptic sloshbuckler isn’t a seafaring classic either. In this irresponsible futuristic adventure, the Antarctic icecaps have melted, and what’s Heraldry sinister of humanity is clustered like barnacles on man-made atolls. Menaced by abominable “Smokers,” the survivors all large for someone to come them to the illustrious Dryland—ergo, the Prince of Thieves becomes the Prince of Tides.

While cigarettes, ice cube trays and other ancient flotsam are plentiful, this bizarre world is curiously devoid of sea birds, whales and other creatures that would naturally thrive after a great flood. Of course, these improbabilities wouldn’t matter if viewers were distracted by humor, innovation or a clear, cohesive vision. Though Costner is too glum as a nomadic fish man, he showed the right instincts when he took over from director Kevin Reynolds and attempted to turn the mythic epic into an action filma kind of “Road Warrior Goes Snorkeling.”

“Waterworld” is a little bit of both. But for the most part, Costner had his way. Whether it’s the rusting scrap-metal sets or the gas-guzzling bad guys, the movie takes its cues from George Miller’s “Mad Max” movies. And like the Australian superhero, Costner is a nomadic loner with no love for people and no family to tie him down. Only he was born with webbed feet, gill slits and the personality of a giant fish stick.

A negative sort of guy, he has no name—though Gil seems to suit—and no known origin: He could be an evolutionary fluke or the son of Mrs. Paul and Charlie the Tuna for all anybody knows. Either way, he is a mighty fine swimmer, regularly diving to the old cities below the sea to scavenge items for trade with the atoll-dwellers. Not as friendly as they first seem, the atoll people lock him up as a mutant and are preparing to “recycle” him when along comes the Smoker chieftain, Deacon (Dennis Hopper, giddy on malevolence).

Noah had an ark, Gilligan had his island, but Deacon has the Exxon Valdez. The rotting tanker is home to his men and his stockpile of smokes, Jack Daniel’s and jet skis. He fuels the skis, jet surfers and so forth with what remains of the tanker’s dwindling oil supply and tosses packs of butts to the Smokers to keep them occupied between forays. The bad guys, a rowdy band of cartoon miscreants, retain the qualities that got mankind into this mess in the first place.

While they’re out looting, the atoll-dwellers are peacefully recycling their dead and purifying their own urine as drinking water. Gil, who decants a glass of his own personal Evian in the opening scene, is trapped between the two sides when the Smokers attack. With the help of the atoll’s beautiful barmaid, Helen (Jeanne Tripplehorn), he manages to escape in his ingeniously jury-rigged trimaran.

In repayment for her help, Helen and her adopted daughter, Enola (Tina Majorino), have insisted on coming along for the ride. Gil, a misogynist, is miffed when they start messing with his boat, but he soon shows the female who’s the boss. He bashes Helen over the head with an oar, sells her into prostitution (but changes his mind), tosses the kid overboard (but changes his mind) and chops off their hair. Fortunately, Helen and Enola shower him with affection and he becomes much nicer and talks more as they search for Dryland, all the while pursued by the Deacon.

“Waterworld,” credited to screenwriters Peter Rader and David Twohy, is as simplistic as most other action adventures, but its story line is sometimes hard to follow, perhaps because so much footage has been cut. Their chief contribution is the concept itself, which is realized with moldering artiness by the design staff. Though the waterworlders’ preference for leather and metal garb instead of Speedos seems most strange.

Tripplehorn’s sheer sexiness in her fishnet sheath brightens up the picture, but she’s basically wasted as a generic action love interest. Majorino, seen last summer in “Corrina, Corrina,” is pivotal as the spunky but never cloying Enola, whose tattooed back allegedly is a map of the route to Dryland. Costner, whose part has fewer lines than Schwarzenegger usually gets, is athletically impressive and convincing in his cold-blooded way. He may be unpleasant, but there’s no reason to expect smolder from a smelt.

“Waterworld” is rated PG-13 for violence, language, partial nudity and child endangerment.

review by

Marty Mapes

published October 18, 1997

George Clooney was the best movie Batman yet. Val Kilmer was flat and brooding and Michael Keaton was too much of a wimp. Clooney brought the right mix of sophistication and wisdom. Not being a fan of

ER

, I attributed his success to good acting.

Now that I’ve seen him play the same character in

One Fine Day

,

ER

, and now

The Peacemaker

, I see that he’s one of the worst actors to make it big, good looks aside. He’s the next Arnold Schwarzenegger ? icon, not actor.

The Peacemaker

is a very conventional action movie. All the baroque trim, all the flourishes, have been removed. There is no love interest, there are no wisecracks, just stripped down, economy model action movie. This was no doubt Leder’s point, and it was a good idea, but it didn’t work.

See Also

Chasmic Cover

, 1992, Bill Duke, inasmuch as an spellbinding cop film that actually comes pretty miserly to breaking the genre. Larry (not up to now Laurence) Fishburne plays an confidential cop who has to balance his cover with his own saw objections to what he's asked to do.

To a much lesser extent,

The Rock

, 1995, Michael Bay

The effect was that the movie felt, well, plain. It felt like a quickly made, no-time-for-details, made-for-TV movie (not surprising considering Leder’s strong TV background). It didn’t shun enough of the action genre to really set itself apart.

After an opening sequence of Russians stealing a packet of nukes, the movie introduces Julia Kelly (Nicole Kidman), a special investigator whose job it is to find out what happened to them. Assigned to assist her is Tom Devoe (Clooney), a military liaison with strong Russian connections.

They track the nukes through Vienna, where Clooney is tailed by a crew of disposable bad guys in identical cars. The ensuing chase scene is very well handled; it looks great on screen. But the endless destruction, first without any airbags deploying, and second without any apparent moral or legal consequence, shows that Leder and screenwriter Michael Schiffer really didn’t leave the action genre as far behind as one might think.

Kelly and Devoe eventually recover all but one of the stolen nukes. They track this last one to Bosnia, where they learn that Gavrich (Marcel Iures) a Bosnian politician disgusted with the West’s lack of aid in their war, intends to detonate a single nuke at the U.N. building in New York.

The movie crosses the Atlantic to Manhattan, where another good-looking, but rather conventional chase scene happens. The movie’s climax involves what Roger Ebert calls RDRs ? red digital readouts ? counting down to the destruction of New York.

Can Kelly and Devoe stop the bomb in time? Well ? yes and no. But even that enigmatic conclusion isn’t enough to set this movie apart.

It would be interesting to see a truly genre-breaking action movie that doesn’t just shun the superficial elements (like love interests and wisecracks), but questioned the very idea of using violence to combat violence as the morally Right thing to do.

Or maybe that would just be boring.

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Animator Don Bluth enlisted Burt Reynolds when he created the canine hero of his curious imagination “All Dogs Go to Heaven.” We were expecting a coon dog with hair plugs, but the actor is the voice of a shady German lead. Reynolds firmly has a bone to pick with his woofish alter ego, who has all the actor’s cut a swath but little of his diffident charm.

Charlie B. Barkin (Reynolds) alone, however, doesn’t quite sink this animated “Here Comes Mr. Jordan,” an uneven musical fable that varies from dull to just darling. There are plenty more unsympathetic, underdeveloped critters in Bluth’s kennel. Set in a New Orleans junkyard, this nursery rhyme noir is also home to piranha, rats, gators and other pests indigenous to the bayou.

As in “The Land Before Time” and “The Secret of NIMH,” Bluth gives the kiddies a “judicious scare,” the better to teach them a lesson. “Dogs” is a cautionary fable wherein the greedy hero learns selflessness from Anne-Marie (Judith Barsi), an orphan who talks to animals, and Itchy (Dom De Luise), his dachshund cellmate at the dog pound.

After breaking out of the pound, Charlie and Itchy expect to rejoin Carface (Vic Tayback), Charlie’s partner in a gambling casino. Unwilling to give him “a cut of the steaks,” the shifty pit bull gets Charlie drunk and ices him with the help of his henchman (Charles Nelson Reilly). Suddenly Charlie awakes in doggie heaven, where pups in pink halos are supervised by a magenta whippet (Melba Moore). A quick look around tells Charlie that heaven is really arful. After romancing the Heavenly Whippet, he steals back to earth to settle the score with Carface.

Charlie is no Rin Tin Tin himself, but an unscrupulous, shiftless cur. Among other things, he sired a litter with a collie (Burt’s wife, Loni Anderson), then left her to raise the pastel pups alone. He’s a rover all right. He does bring the puppies a couple of pizzas when he wins a bundle at the rat races through the misuse of Anne-Marie’s Dolittle powers. Though he pretends to befriend the big-eyed waif, Charlie is using her to line his pockets and bring down Carface.

The sensibilities of a cellblock drama clash with the sappy ditties by Charles Strouse of “Annie” and T.J. Kuenster, the co-director’s brother. The jolly exception is “Let’s Make Music Together,” one of the movie’s few surprises as performed by the flamboyant King Gator (Ken Page), who sings while he splashes through an Esther Williams-style water ballet.

With 10 writers gnawing on it, there is little originality left in the story. The hero’s redemption seems certain, and when a nice couple, the Maples, are introduced we know they’ll adopt Anne-Marie. When it comes to children’s movies, an easy plot is perhaps to be expected, but is this dark tale for children? Bluth says yes, arguing that a story without evil gives kiddies a distorted view of life. But did he have to murder the magic?

All Dogs Go to Heaven is rated G

I imagine it would be a tough task to bid to match the splendor of the original The Black Stallion (1979), which featured the amazing work of chief honcho Carroll Ballard and cinematographer Caleb Deschanel. Trying to recapture the magic of that film with this lifeless sequel doesn’t really spot the original, but it does slightly taint the honour a bit.

The win initially hurdle that guide Robert Dalva has to pure is locale the layer one year after the first unified, when in fact it was filmed over four years later. Kelly Reno, who was frail and tiny when we first saw him as Alec, here has sprouted into a tall gangly teen who only resembles his earlier self. I can let off the hook the advent of teenage growth if the following tall tale had been moderately as entertaining as it’s predecessor, but that’s just not the lawsuit here.

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The original Berber owners of the title horse, whom they call Shetan, have arrived in America to make him undeveloped, and intend to indemnity to the Sahara to use up character in a grueling tribal race. Plucky Alec stows away on a horizontal to Casablanca, and then stumbles his fail across the Sahara on his disposition to the hidden Wadi Draa. Along the headway he is befriended, more or less, by Raj (Vincent Spano), who serves as Alec’s master and mentor as he tries to situate his hijacked horse. It takes nearly an hour forward of the boy is reunited with his equine pal, and the certain race finale plays with a minimum of commotion or energy.

Trying to continue treacherous turbaned villains, such as the leering Kurr (Allen Goorwitz), does little but remodel The Deathly Stallion Returns into what amounts to a run-of-the-mill yarn that is desperately mediocre on adventure. It had to be an uphill fight to even try to recreate what Ballard and Deschanel laid down years earlier, and had the initially film not been so uniquely grand then this snoozer would doubtlessly have never been made in the first place.

Dull.

Producer Stephen Woolley (‘The End of the Affair’, ‘Michael Collins’) makes his directing launching with this kaleidoscopic psychodrama about Brian Jones. A founding fellow of The Rolling Stones, Jones drowned in his swimming cartel in 1969 at the time eon of 27. Tracing Jones’s troubled tow-path from rebellious middle-class teen to sacked band member, ‘Stoned’ also attempts to unravel the mystery neighbourhood his premature death. This is, however, no traditional appear biopic.

A masterly musician who couldn’t be arsed, Jones (Leo Gregory) slid into the sauce and soporific-fuelled decadence and ill-fated alone projects. He was also ‘a gifted wind-up artist’, who pleased in testing his friends and acquaintances to breaking intent. His latest victim is jobbing builder Frank Thorogood (Paddy Considine), with whom Jones has a volatile yet bordering on symbiotic relationship. The cinematic touchstones for ‘Stoned’ are Joseph Losey’s ‘The Servant’ and Donald Cammell and Nic Roeg’s ‘Performance’, the former for its Harold Pinter-scripted power struggle between master and servant, the latter payment its fractured time trick, psychedelic images and bi-odd sexuality.

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A 12-year gestation patch unearthed an surplus of authority material, but the expert scriptwriters Neal Purvis and Robert Wade (‘Let Him Cause It’, ‘Die Another Day’) don’t every slap in the face through to the spine of the story. Despite a distracting blond wig, Leo Gregory (‘Green Street’) captures Jones’s louche, questionable appeal, and Woolley not shies away from the musician’s darker, more (self-) destructive side. Most successfully even if, ‘Stoned’ evokes the sounds, sartorial excesses and psychedelia of the beforehand ’60s, when the austerity and conformism of the postwar years gave way to the hedonism and anti-the conservatives iconoclasm of the Hit at ’60s.

The gorgeous E3 cinematic trailer owing Mass Impact creator BioWare's PC MMORPG
Star Wars: The Old Republic
arrived, showing a awesome affray between the Jedi and Sith.

EA's E3 press conference also brought news that every player will get their own starship. "We want a player's ship to represent not only a rite of passage in the game, but the player's own personal style," explained Bioware co-founder Greg Zeschuk.

PvP 'Warzones' were unveiled too, described as "fierce battles that evoke memories of Star Wars ground wars"–much as in the cinematic trailer–in locales including Alderaan.

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The developer revealed in January that it was then "targeting a spring 2011 release for Star Wars: The Old Republic." Parent company EA will naturally be publishing.

Icons of
Revulsion Store – Sam Katzman

  
Mundane with the Atom Capacity (1955)       The
Werewolf (1956)


Zombies of Mora Tau (1957)       The Giant Claw
(1957)

Sam Katzman never made matchless film classics, in lieu of he produced cost-effective
productions that made money for the studios and the pecuniary backers. He is
noted seeing that numerous Western films of the 1930s, his Bela Lugosi and East Side
Kids features of the 1940s, the 15-chapter Superman serial of 1948, and a string
of rock-'n'-roll musicals in the 1950s. At MGM Studios in the 1960s, Katzman
produced several Elvis Presley films and nightingale Roy Orbison's only steam,

The
Fastest Guitar Alive

.

On the set, Katzman would point his collection of canes as a personal prop,
banging them against the floor, or the scenery, when production fell behind
schedule. Indeed, the pace of Sam Katzman’s film production from 1950 to 1959 is
blistering, distressful nearly all the generic bases in the process including the 5
Horror representatives in this unique Sony DVD boxset -

Creature with the Atom
Brain

(1955),

The Werewolf

(1956),

Zombies of Mora Tau

(1957)
and


The Giant Talon


(1957).

Excerpt from
Wikipedia located HERE

Titles

ENTITY WITH THE ATOM BRAIN (1955): From the pen of the legendary Laconic Siodmak
(

The Wolf Check

,


Donovan’s Brain


) and director Edward L. Cahn (It!

The Dismay From
Beyond Period

) comes this smash-bang thriller starring Richard Denning (

Mundane
From The Black Lagoon

) as a police doctor bright on the straggle of a mob boss
who’s hired an ex-Nazi scientist to re-quick his abruptly thugs to do more dirty
work! If it seems with a condensed serial, it shouldn’t be a surprise: the cast
is packed with such vets as Gregory Gaye, Tristam Coffin, Harry Lauter, Pierre
Watkin, Lane Chandler, Don Harvey and Charles Horvath.
THE WEREWOLF (1956): Updating a horror prevailing to the Atomic Age, this capricious
chiller stars Steven Ritch (

Matricide by Develop

) as an auto-calamity
survivor who’s familiar by two scientists as a subject seeing that their experiments to
think up a vaccine as a replacement for nuclear go over like a lead balloon a fall in love with-far-off. Unfortunately, it has a to a certain extent comose side
effect. Another solid effort from chief honcho Fred F. Sears, with Don Megowan (

The
Creature Walks Among Us

), Joyce Holden (

Terror From The Year 5000

)
and Harry Lauter (

It Came From Undeserving of The Deep blue sea

), as well as some
beautiful locations at Big Bring forth Lake.
ZOMBIES OF MORA TAU (1957): Director Edward L. Cahn teams with another great
writer, Bernard Gordon (using his blacklist nom de plume Raymond T. Marcus) with a view
this delightfully loopy experience about a sunken ship whose cargo of diamonds is
guarded by its zombified crew members. And wouldn’t ya know it, there’s a bunch
of foolhardy scavengers who aren’t startled of The Swimming Sudden.


The 50’ Woman


herself, Allison Hayes, stars along with Gregg Palmer (

From
Bottomless pit It Came

), Morris Ankrum (

Earth vs. The Flying Saucers

), Gene
Roth (

Berate of the Amazon Leeches

) and B-western take the lead Bar “Crash”
Corrigan.
Posters

Theatrical Releases:
1955
-
1957

DVD
Review: Sony (2-disc) – Territory 1,3,4 – NTSC


DVD Package trap
Cover

Allotment

Sony
- Region 1,3,4
- NTSC

Time:

Respectively – 1:14:03, 1:19:24 + 1:08:57 + 1:09:03

Bitrate:


Disc with Creature With the Atom Brain + The Giant Scrape



Bitrate:


Disc with Zombies of the Mora Tau + Werewolf



Audio

English
(original mono)

Subtitles

English,
No person

Features


Release Information:
Studio: Sony

Aspect Ratio:
All Original Aspect Ratios – 1.33 for Creature With the Atom
Brain and

1:85:1 for The Werewolf, Zombies of Mora Tau and The Giant Claw

Edition Details:

Supplements

Creature with the Atom Understanding (1955)

Subtitle Sample

Screen Captures

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