Disc Type

“Congratulations, you’ve just been erased.”

In 1996, when Eraser came out, it was pretty much what everyone expected from an Arnold Schwarzenegger film: lots of action and cheesy one-liners. It was far from Arnold’s finest work, but it was fun, and the big guns used in the film were pretty cool, too. Eraser is a film you can look back fondly on if you grew up in the 90s, because it was silly fun and nicely directed by the legendary Chuck Russell, who had a pretty good streak of films going when he did Eraser. Before he’d had success with the breakout Jim Carrey film The Mask, and before that he had the remake of The Blob and A Nightmare on Elm Street 3: The Dream Warriors. I bring this up because the reason Eraser worked when it did was because it had the biggest action star on the planet in its lead role and a talented director working behind the camera, and to top it off a $100 million dollar budget to play with.

"There are among us a people, gifted with a perfect memory of all their past lives. They call themselves Infinites. Among the Infinites, two groups have vied for power. On one side the Believers, dedicated to using their knowledge for the protection and growth of all humanity. Against them stood the Nihilists, who see this power as a curse. New technologies have given the Nihilists an opportunity to end all life on Earth, and the race is on for its control."

Infinite is an adapted story from D. Eric Maikranz's novel The Reincarnation Papers. On the surface this is one of those great concepts that could support a film franchise, and might have accomplished just that if the film itself hadn't taken the route of spectacle over substance. It doesn't help that this film was hurt by the COVID shutdown of productions and never ended up with the wide release it was originally intended to have.

"Let me speak to you directly and from the heart."

My first exposure to The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance wasn't the film at all. It was the song (The Man Who Shot) Liberty Valance, written by Burt Bacharach and Hal David. It was a 1962 hit song by Gene Pitney and was written to be included in the film. I wouldn't really be taken with the song until James Taylor would cover it and have his own hit with the song in 1985 with his album That's Why I'm Here. By then I'd seen the film but only on late-night television broadcasts which offered bad transfers and plenty of commercials that caused the film to be chopped by over 26 minutes. The funny thing about the song is that while it was written to be included in the film, it actually never appears. Director John Ford thought it sounded too modern and suggested it would only weaken the film and insisted it not be used

When I heard Fox had cancelled Lucifer after Season 3 and Netflix had picked up the show, I have to admit I got excited about the possibilities. I had hoped that the transition from network TV to the streaming service would mean the show could get away with more, because the show wouldn’t be bound to network rating guidelines. As it turns out, the show still has its TV-14 rating, but on the bright side the episodes are longer now, which in my opinion is a good thing. When Netflix picked up the show, they had announced that Season 5 would be the last season of the show. While the show does take some major storyline leaps as ways to wrap things up, thankfully things don’t come to an end just yet, as a Season 6 was produced and is currently airing on the streaming service.

“They think I’m hiding in the shadows, but I am the shadows.”

You have certain expectations when you go to a superhero/comic book movie. Sure, it changes a little depending on the character that you’re going to see. But there are certain things that all of these films tend to have in common. There’s an expectation of frantic action and some mind-bending special f/x. You’re looking for colorful villains who tend to act over-the-top and always provide that gentle wink back at the audience. When these expectations aren’t met, audiences tend to be disappointed, and big-budget films can end up costing the studios hugely in the end. Even as we appear to be reaching the last days of the limited pandemic crowds, that risk gets multiplied. It also doesn’t help if audiences are still riding the high off the first big global billion-dollar film in almost three years.

Licorice Pizza marks writer/director Paul Thomas Anderson’s 9th feature film, and it seems to be his most personal film to date, as it takes place in his hometown of San Fernando Valley during 1973. It’s difficult to go into a Paul Thomas Anderson film and not have high expectations. I can’t even guess the number of times I’ve watched Boogie Nights, and Magnolia is one that I adore just as much. These two films just impacted me from the first time I experienced them in the cinema and really fostered my appreciation for film and storytelling with large ensembles. Since then I’ve been waiting somewhat patiently for PTA to do another film like those two, but instead he’s grown as a filmmaker and genuinely become an auteur. While I can look at his films The Master, There Will Be Blood, and Phantom Thread, they are great cinematic achievements that show he can do award worthy films and that he’s definitely one of the best working directors out there, BUT

"Who's the wolf now, Ray?"

For all intents and purposes, Season 7 was the final season of Ray Donovan. The end came rather suddenly, and after it was too late to create and film some kind of satisfying finale for the series. The cast and crew were taken by surprise, so you can imagine how the fans of the show were taking this. To make matters worse, the last episode, while not a complete cliffhanger, leaves too many strands of thread that weren't connected. There's nothing satisfying about the finale, and that created waves in the world of fandom. Star Trek is famous for being the first television show that a network cancelled and then brought back because of a huge letter-writing campaign that flooded network executives and pushed them into an unprecedented action for that time. The show was brought back.

The original heist movie is often credited to The Asphalt Jungle, directed by John Huston.  A criminal mastermind, a million-dollar jewel heist, a band of outlaws, and the dame in a seamy and gritty underworld.  It had all the qualities that would set up that genre for decades to come.  Today's offering is another film that is often listed on top-twenty lists for the genre, Ad ogni costo, better known by its English title as Grand Slam.  In it, a retiring school professor recruits four criminal masterminds to steal ten million in diamonds.  We'll have to see if it makes the grade or is doomed to be held back for another year.

From the bouncing opening music by Glenn Fry to the final frame of Eddie Murphy's smile, Beverly Hills Cop had established itself as a classic. The movie had a complicated history, and it's a kind of miracle that the version we know ever happened at all. The movie was originally conceived as a straight action film with the plan to have either Al Pacino or Clint Eastwood in the title role. At that point the script was called Beverly Drive. When they couldn't get Al or Clint, they turned to Sylvester Stallone, and Sly took the role. He took the script and rewrote it to fit his own particular style. The main character's name went from Axel Foley to Cabretti so that he could be called The Cobra. The problem with Sly's version is that the cost was rising higher than the execs at Paramount were willing to put out. Sly was offered another film to drop Beverly Hills Cop. He took his rewrites with him, and they eventually formed the nucleus of his movie Cobra. The rest of the film had already been cast, so imagine their surprise when the action movie they thought they were making with Rocky turned into a comedy/drama starring the Saturday Night Live but unproven box office comedian Eddie Murphy.

I’m still looking for answers. I just don’t know the questions anymore. I just know there’s too much out there. Seas of filth. An endless onslaught of ugliness. Blight. Plastic. Cheap s#$t cloggin’ up our minds. Cloggin’ up the drains, poisoning our water, turning us to s@4t. Where does it all go? I’ve got blood on my hands. I’m stained. I’m dirty. No matter how hard I try, I can’t wash away the past.

With Adrien Brody’s picture-perfect delivery of this monolog, I was all in with this film. It was like Brody’s voice was made for this voiceover. And while the film did have some intriguing moments, it didn’t really break any new ground like I hoped it would. It reminded me of a couple years ago when Hollywood tried to remake Death Wish, and while I did enjoy this film immensely more than that one, Clean isn’t a film that I will feel compelled to rewatch anytime in the near future. The film essentially has more of a one-and-done feel to it.