I’ve never been much for spoof movies. There are some exceptions, like the first two Scary Movies or Don’t Be A Menace. However, for the most part, these types of movies have never resonated with me. The jokes are usually not of great quality and kind of cheesy. Unfortunately, The Big Bus fell into this category. From the premise, I couldn’t wrap my head around the plot of this movie. A nuclear-powered double-decker bus piloted by a disgraced bus driver accused of cannibalism. It just didn’t resonate with me. I understand that films of this type were popular during this time, such as Airplane and its sequel, but for me, I couldn’t get past the sheer ridiculousness of the film to get any enjoyment out of it. Of course, my opinion is not the be-all end-all, as my research suggests that the film has apparently obtained cult classic status in this genre as well as won the audience award at the Avoriaz Fantastic Film Festival in 1977. So clearly someone enjoyed it. However, as you are reading this review, I will assume that you are interested in my opinion, and my opinion is that it was not for me.

In a nutshell, the film was advertised as the ultimate disaster movie parody. A state-of-the-art nuclear-powered bus created by the Coyote Bus Lines, named Cyclops, has been completed, potentially enabling non-stop service from New York City to Denver, Colorado, supposedly a new milestone in bus history. However, an act of sabotage nearly derails the project. Following the sabotage attempt, the bus is relatively unharmed, but the scientist in charge as well as the bus’s driver and co-driver are injured or worse. Desperate to complete the endeavor, Kitty Baxter (Stockard Channing) enlists the help of her old flame, Dan Torrance (Joseph Bologna). Torrance, a once promising driver, was disgraced after an accident on Mount Diablo, which led to the aforementioned cannibalism accusation. Let’s take a moment and reflect on what we know so far. What part of this film premise sounds remotely believable or realistic? Granted, I understand that the point is to make fun of disasters for the sake of slapstick fun. However, I just wasn’t able to suspend reality to enjoy the film. As I watched, I found myself just shaking my head as I repeated the same thing over and over: “a nuclear-powered double-decker bus.” I will say the say that the scene where a man fended off a room full of angry bus drivers with a milk carton did get a chuckle from me, but mainly due to the outlandishness of the idea. There was the “breaking wind” turn of phrase, which also was a bit on the ridiculous side, but did evoke a chuckle.

Nothing like a corruption charge to damper the romance between a cop and an assistant district attorney. The Big Easy is a lighthearted look at where the line is between right and wrong in more ways than one. Dennis Quaid is Lt. Remy McSwain, a native of New Orleans, who reckons that he is an honest cop, despite his willingness go along with the kickbacks from his precinct’s “Widows and Orphans Fund.” To put it plainly, he teeters on the line between being corrupt and being good police. On the one hand, he is a capable investigator and believes in justice. However, on the other, he is aware of and takes advantage of the extra incentives, such as free meals and the occasional envelope of money for extra protection. To him, it’s just the cost of doing business and how things work. That view is challenged when he meets straitlaced and by-the-book assistant district attorney Anne Osborne, played by Ellen Barkin. Each represents everything that the other hates about the law. To him, she is uptight and has no idea how the law really works; and to her, he is nonchalant and knows nothing about the slippery slope of corruption. By all accounts, they should hate each other, and yet they are drawn to one another like magnets.

While the film embraces your basic enemies-to-lovers trope, I will say that for me it felt like a fresh take, which is saying something given that the film was made back in 1986. The aspect I found interesting was the direction it took by having Remy getting ensnared in a corruption investigation just as things were starting to heat up between the two. This was a great means of throwing a monkey wrench in their blossoming relationship and creating tension between the two characters. The tension was heightened by having Barkin’s character serve as the prosecutor, thereby elevating the emotion of their exchanges, particularly when she cross-examined him and she became openly hostile as her feelings got the better of her. I did have some concerns regarding how the two would find themselves back to one another, especially with the prospect of prison for the McSwain. Naturally, there was only one way things could go with McSwain beating the rap. But that did leave the questions of how the two would find common ground again.

In 1962, I can understand why Hell is for Heroes would be a successful film. You have Steve McQueen just getting hot after his success with The Magnificent Seven, and then you have a cast with Bobby Darin, James Coburn, and Bob Newhart making his big screen debut, not to mention that war films were still pretty popular at the time; and then you had director Don Siegel at the helm. Some films are simply a product of their time, and they simply don’t age well; then there are films that are classics and are simply timeless.  Hell is for Heroes ends up somewhere in the middle for me. It’s not a bad film; actually I think it is pretty good, but I think its legacy is more about how it manages to have so much talent together before these actors and filmmakers really hit their stride or were in their prime.

When the film opens up, we’re in 1944 France, and we’re with a group of GI’s who seem to be waiting for their last orders before they get the go-ahead to go home.  These guys have seen their share of bloodshed, and they are just eager to get home. They’re writing to their loved ones with the good news, and their spirits couldn’t be higher.  This is also where we get to meet the soldiers. Reese (McQueen) has recently been reassigned; he’ a cold and bitter man who seems to have accepted he may not escape this war alive, but he’s going to take as many Nazi soldiers down with him as he can. The film has a slow start, and I mean it is at least a good thirty minutes till we see Reese and his squad get reassigned and told they are marching up to the Siegfried Line to hold off the Nazi advance.  Once this first act is over, though, this film is pretty entertaining to the very end.

“Well, I’ve been knocked down, blown up, lied to, s$#t on, shot at; I’m not a virgin except in my heart. Nothing much surprises me anymore except what people do to each other. I’m a licensed pilot, I lectured on economics at Yale, and I can memorize the front page of the New York Times in five minutes and read it back to you in five weeks. I was national Golden Gloves Champion three years in a row, and I’m fluent in four languages. And I lie … a lot.”

This was quite the experience for me. While watching this film, I keep experiencing an intense feeling of deja vu. It was as if I’d watched the film before. Burt Reynolds stars as a chaperone who hires himself out to escort folks while gambling in Las Vegas. He is eventually approached by an old friend after being roughed up, and he becomes embroiled in a situation that is far more complex than initially thought. It sounded a lot like another film I watched a few years back. However, it still didn't dawn on me until after Reynolds' opening scene in which he gets beat up after antagonizing a dorky guy and his girlfriend. Then a light bulb goes off, and I remember the 2015 Jason Statham film Wild Card, which is actually a carbon copy of this very film.

If someone were to read my biography below, one would probably learn one of two things, I have an unhealthy obsession with Alyssa Milano movies, and I deeply appreciate Basil Rathbone, the man who popularized Sherlock Holmes films.  While many would argue who the best Holmes would be (Downey, Brett, Cumberbatch, etc), my heart will always go to Basil.  So naturally, when I saw the movie Rio with him in the starring role had come to Blu-ray, I jumped at the opportunity to review it.  Let's take a look.

We get a tight close-up of a sign that reads Paul Reynard & Associates Investment, Paris Branch.  Here the board of directors are meeting and waiting for a phone call from the one and only Paul Reynard (played by Basil Rathbone).  Where is Mr. Reynard?  Why, he's in London securing a loan.  We soon see Paul's friend, Dirk (played by Victor McLaglen) telling the board of directors to hold, Paul should be in soon.

"If I had one day when I didn't have to be all confused and I didn't have to feel that I was ashamed of everything. If I felt that I belonged someplace. You know?"

There are a handful of films in Hollywood history that have stories as compelling if not more so than the story the film itself tells. I don't know if there has ever been a film about the making of Rebel Without A Cause. There have certainly been several books, but this is one of those classic films which is surrounded by so many legends, some of them urban myths, but so many of them were true that I find it rather difficult to watch the film on its own terms. With Warner's 100th anniversary celebration of 100 classic films, I had a nice chance to revisit the classic motion picture, and this time I tried my best to watch it without all of the noise that goes along with it. That wasn't easy, but I think I've now seen the film for itself more now than I ever did before. It was a groundbreaking film with an incredible cast that broke so many taboos of the time that you get the idea someone wasn't really paying attention to what was going on on the screen. It's as compelling today as it was then, and maybe more so with all of the baggage. The truth is I've never been able to watch Rebel Without A Cause the same way twice. Now I can try as often as I like with a nearly flawless print finally in UHD Blu-ray and in 4K. Warner Brothers is having a birthday, and I've been unwrapping all of the presents.

"Space ... the final frontier. These are the voyages of the starship Enterprise. Its continuing mission, to explore strange new worlds. To seek out new life and new civilizations. To boldly go where no one has gone before."

From 1978 through 2002, 10 Star Trek films were released at the box office. The franchise almost ended with the first, but it was followed up by what I consider the best of the 10. The films are a collection of ups and downs, but you know you want the complete collection up there on your shelf. You already have the first six, starring the original crew. Now your wait for completion is over. The Next Generation films are out from Paramount Home Entertainment, and here they are ...

In 1965 when The Truth About Spring was released, Haley Mills was turning 18 and was already a well established star after being in a string of hit Disney films like Pollyanna, The Parent Trap, and then That Darn Cat.  Back when this film was made, it was simply a family adventure. It is simply so charming and wholesome; it really is the kind of film that is just about impossible to find at your local cinema anymore. When watching this, I couldn’t help but realize how if this very same film was put on the big screen today it would cause certain groups out there to lose their minds, all because it is a story about a tomboy who “changes” for a young man she falls in love with. Now, I’m not about to stir anything up and bring up politics or social ideologies with this review, but it was something that I wanted to mention, because sadly something’s in this movie just wouldn’t be done in a film today, despite how innocently this film was made many decades ago. I’m reviewing this through the lens of how this movie was meant to be seen upon its release, and without social commentary, because frankly to do so otherwise is exhausting and simply tarnishes the joy of the experience of this film.

The film opens up on a sailboat, and we meet Tommy Tyler (John Mills) and his daughter, Spring (Haley Mills). We get to watch them pull off one of their more innocent schemes when they come aboard a cruise liner and “convince” the crew and the passengers to give them supplies.  As part of the scheme, Spring is taking on the role of being a malnourished boy, and it’s this performance that tugs on the heartstrings of the passengers to allow this scheme to be successful, though it’s obvious the captain doesn’t seem convinced by the act; but still he gives the Tyler family the needed supplies. The instant chemistry we see between Tommy and Spring should be no surprise considering they are real life father and daughter, and this isn’t the first time they performed on screen together. It’s the relationship between the father and daughter that really propels this film, whether it is their innocent jabs at one another or even the heartfelt exchanges that come later in the film, it’s the natural connection the pair have that makes the film work.

Even though I consider myself to be well-rounded when it comes to films, I admit my personal viewing history of French film to be a little lacking.  Go Google any top 20 list of French films, and I've probably seen maybe two or three of the films.  This is very contradictory to say Chinese, Japanese, English (UK), Australian, etc. where I've seen hundreds of films.  But I'm always willing to expand my repertoire, so I jumped when I saw there was a French crime thriller named L'Homme Du Train or The Man on the Train available for review.  Let's see how it plays out.

As we start, A train runs along the tracks and whips by various locales.  We see a man named Milan (played by Johnny Hallyday) who tries to relax, but obviously he can't.  The train finally comes to a stop, and he is only one to get off.  He walks through the town, which is somewhat desolate, and finally ends up at a pharmacy.  There he asks for some aspirin, which he finally receives.  (Unfortunately it's water-soluble, so he also requires a glass of water).

"Them clothes got laundry numbers on them. You remember your number and always wear the ones that has your number. Any man forgets his number spends a night in the box. These here spoons you keep with you. Any man loses his spoon spends a night in the box. There's no playing grab-ass or fighting in the building. You got a grudge against another man, you fight him Saturday afternoon. Any man playing grab-ass or fighting in the building spends a night in the box. First bell's at five minutes of eight when you will get in your bunk. Last bell is at eight. Any man not in his bunk at eight spends the night in the box. There is no smoking in the prone position in bed. To smoke you must have both legs over the side of your bunk. Any man caught smoking in the prone position in bed ... spends a night in the box. You get two sheets. Every Saturday, you put the clean sheet on the top ... the top sheet on the bottom ... and the bottom sheet you turn in to the laundry boy. Any man turns in the wrong sheet spends a night in the box. No one'll sit in the bunks with dirty pants on. Any man with dirty pants on sitting on the bunks spends a night in the box. Any man don't bring back his empty pop bottle spends a night in the box. Any man loud talking spends a night in the box. You got questions, you come to me. I'm Carr, the floor walker. I'm responsible for order in here. Any man don't keep order spends a night in..." 

You guessed it ... the box. Enter our anti-hero, Luke. The anti-hero has become somewhat cliche today. What was once an artistic expression of the gray line between good and bad guys has morphed to the glorification of the just plain bad guy. We end up loving and rooting for such vicious characters like Vic Mackey, Tony Soprano, and Dexter Morgan. These are killers with nary a pang of conscience. Their deeds are always self-serving no matter what they pretend they might be. But if you go back far enough -- most credit Marlon Brando's coda performance in The Wild One -- you'll find there was once a far more nuanced kind of anti-hero. One of the industries best examples of this was Paul Newman's troubled teenager, Luke. Luke wins us over with a charm and an honest belief that he's a good guy. The archetype would later be pruned to perfection by Jack Nicholson in One Flew Over The Cuckoo's nest several years later. McNulty and Luke have a lot in common, and their environments and motivations aren't all that different. In the end they're both "broken" by the establishment, conforming to a code that did not allow guys like this to live happily ever after. Times and sensibilities have certainly changed, but performances like Paul Newman's Luke remain to remind of us of a time when audiences just wouldn't have been ready for the likes of Hill Street's Detective Buntz. Ironically, it would be Marlon Brando again who would be the first to make us root for a cold-hearted killer named Vito Corleone.