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film reel image

Monday, March 18, 2024

Cat and Dog 2024 * 1/2 Stars

DEAD CAT BOUNCE

What I learned from 2024's Cat and Dog, is that its filmmakers need more of a purpose than just servicing their art form. I mean you can have all the split screens, slow-mos, and bisection of animation in the world and not find an audience. Cat and Dog, well it's too violent and offhandedly creepy for the kiddies. And well, it's too annoying and tiredly dated for the adults. "Something's fishy". Uh, you ain't kidding. 

So yeah, Cat and Dog is a pseudo comedy I suppose and/or a harmless, slapstick action caper. This vehicle doesn't have much of a tone and it's one of those flicks where the people involved had much more fun making it than the viewer has watching it. Yes there are talking animals but their dialogue is as cringey as it is awkward (enough with the "can I smell your butt?" stuff please). And yes there are talking humans too but they act like junior high dolts, parading around like they're in some goofy, Laugh-In skit. Basically if Cat and Dog would just shut up occasionally and not constantly wink at the audience, I would've enjoyed it a little more. "Ma'am, you're cat is fine". Uh, can't say the same for Cat and Dog

Starring the likes of Franck Dubosc and Reem Kherici and distributed by Top Film Distribution (oxymoron alert), Cat and Dog is about a cat and a dog who escape from their cages and go on a quest to find their owners. Cat and Dog also involves a jewel heist insinuated by said dog's owner to cash in on a ruby red diamond. So OK, do we care about anyone involved? Not really. Do we care about the outcomes of Cat and Dog's bonehead personas? Uh nope. And despite the fact that there's a lot going on in this movie does it evaporate profusely as you watch it? That would be a yes. "Woof woof" for this "dog that won't hunt". 

Written by Jesse Burleson

Friday, March 15, 2024

David Foster: Off the Record 2019 * * 1/2 Stars

SET THIS RECORD STRAIGHT

2019's David Foster: Off the Record is an overwhelming documentary that appears like an elongated checklist for the GOAT of record producers (that would David Foster of course). I mean for every moment of acknowledging Dave's startling greatness and distance-running success, there's more, almost two hours more. "Off the Record", well it feels like a celebration of life for British Columbia's favorite music exec even though he's still very much alive. Just ask Peter Cetera, Celine Dion, Michael Buble, and Quincy Jones amongst others. 

Distributed by Bell Media and directed by docu vet Barry Avrich (Beyond Famous, Woman Who Act), David Foster: Off the Record chronicles Foster's career through his childhood to his collaborations with Natalie Cole and Chicago to his personal life with his daughters to his composing of Broadway musicals. Avrich, well he gives "Off the Record" a glossy look, mounds of archive footage, and crisped, timeline editing that bounces from present-day to of yore fodder. I mean David Foster: Off the Record doesn't feel so much like a documentary as it does a highlight reel for Foster that might be shown at some awards banquet via a big screen projector. Hey, I'm not saying that's a bad thing but the conspicuousness is surely there.

So OK, watching "Off the Record" you wonder if it actually needed to be made. I mean everyone knows who David Foster is. Heck, the dude has won 14 Grammy Awards and has helped countless artists sell millions and millions of units. So why? Why? Is it to remind everyone that everything Foster touches pop music-wise turns to gold? Or that he's an absolute beast behind the recording studio booth? Or that he has a cocky air about him and likes to spew a few F-bombs (something people already have recognized)? Probably on all counts. Bottom line: David Foster: Off the Record is well-made, exhausting, and worthy of garnering your awareness as a viewer. But it's also a little self-serving, a little vanity-stricken, and attention-grabbing, things that an easy-listening, ditty legend like Foster didn't need to project in the first place. 

Written by Jesse Burleson

Tuesday, March 12, 2024

The Principal 1987 * * * Stars

ROUGH DISSERTATION

1987's The Principal is like an updated version of '82's Class of 1984. You know, stuff in which an educator has to work in a rundown school where gangs and druggie students run afoul. The only difference is that the latter ditches the punk element, doesn't feature Michael J. Fox, and is a little less demented. Take heed though, The Principal is still a metaled, razor blade of a movie, rough around the edges, remorseless, unkind, and unwashed. "No more". Yeah you tell 'em headmaster Rick Latimer.

Now I know what you're thinking, I'm about to proclaim "Principal" to be a cinematic masterpiece. Not so fast as Lee Corso would say. The first two acts are solid before the last 15 minutes bogs down into a flag-waving ending, devoid of being heavy-handed and sort of morphed into a sudden, parodied way of wrapping things up. Great. You got rid of the head ruffian at your grubby institution and you get to ride off into the sunset with your beaming chopper. But hey, there's still much more work to be done. Much much more.

Distributed by TriStar Pictures and shot in a portent vapor via Oakland, CA, The Principal stars Jim Belushi (as Rick Latimer mentioned earlier), Louis Gossett Jr., and Rae Dawn Chong. They compliment each other and give raw performances in a flick that would rather depict 7 school periods in daylight purgatory than hold your hand as a viewer. "Principal's" director (South Dakota native Christopher Cain), well he isn't impressed by Saturday morning sitcoms, senior Brad Hamilton, or all things Aaron Spelling. Nah, he shoots for the atmospherics and the unease, showing that "Principal's" fictional school (Brandel High) can be the unequivocal star while looking like modern-day Beirut. Beatings, ganja selling, and attempted rape oh my! "Brave it through a little bit". Uh okay, if you say so. Remaining "principal" balanced.

Written by Jesse Burleson

Friday, March 8, 2024

Full Circle 2023 * * * Stars

AT FULL TILT

There are a lot of people who might not know the names Trevor Kennison and Barry Corbet (initially I was one of those people). Trevor and Barry are plankers who suffered spinal injuries and were forced to alter their lifestyles for better or worse. Their account is told through the tenderhearted yet partial lens of 2023's Full Circle.

"Circle", well it's more about Kennison than Corbet. It just is. I'm not saying it ruins the documentary but it makes the whole viewing experience a bit uneven and/or inequitable. Could it be that mountaineer, author, and former filmmaker Barry Corbet passed away in 2004 while Trevor Kennison is still alive today, slicing through the fluffy powder as a paralyzed sit skier on the go-ahead? Possibly. The only clips of Corbet are old archives that appear like snippets in an otherwise 103-minute running time. "But nobody knows Barry Corbet's full story". Exactly.

Oh well. Let's just appreciate what Full Circle does often and well and that's show what an amazing ski jumper Kennison is. I mean "Circle" becomes less of a discussion and more of a highlight reel for Trevor, as he can't feel anything from the waist down yet can do backflips and aerials that most regular skiers wouldn't touch with a ten-foot pole. "Let's go!" Yeah you tell 'em Trev.

Distributed by Netflix and only intermittently showing how paraplegics are able to go to the bathroom, procreate, and reproduce with someone else (some of it is a little cringey), Full Circle concentrates mostly on the stupendous, building footage of a debilitated hotdogger who flies through the air POV-mode a la a dragonfly. So yeah, "Circle" may wander as a vehicle whose intentions go from sweeping, sentimental docu-style to full on, summit apotheosis. Whatever. The effect is still pure exhilaration. Grand "circle". 

Written by Jesse Burleson

Tuesday, March 5, 2024

Tremors 1990 * * * Stars

AFTER SHOOK

I remember seeing 1990's Tremors on opening night back in the day. It was one of those few January-released films that the critics and audience members actually embraced. Star Kevin Bacon dons a cowboy head covering and a southern accent, with signature long hair and Jerry Springer slant in tote. Country music singer Reba McEntire, well she plays a gun-toting housewife with an itchy trigger finger, some restraint, and a fetish for the automatic. Michael Gross, well he goes unrecognizable sans the Family Ties days as another foot soldier bent on giving the slimy antagonists the heave-ho. "That's how they get you, they're under the ground". You don't say Kev. 

So yeah, Tremors is a southern-fried Creature Feature, made for the midnight movie circuit in broad daylight and saddled with a sort of sun-drenched, Warner Bros. 70s flavor. Clocking in at 96 minutes, Tremors is also cultish and fun, as its viscid violence and quicksand perishing are only taken seriously when they have to be. Hey, below the surface wormy monsters can creep you out on occasion. I'm not kidding. 

As something about a bunch of Nevada townies who are forced to fend off desert life forms that adhere to the sounds of people walking, running, and talking, Tremors makes you chuckle one minute and cringe the next. That's the point right, for it's a black comedy horror pic, cloaked with the tongue in cheek and the tongue bitten off. "That's one big mother." Um, you ain't kidding my brother.

Slimy soft bodies and humorous tragedy aside, Tremors has characters in it that are quirky, likable, Mayberry types and not just selfish, faceless dolts just waiting for the tentacle slaughter. How refreshing, how reassuring, and how trendsetting. That's why I feel Tremors was the first scary pic to be devilish without being veritably apprehensive. "Shake and quake". '

Written by Jesse Burleson

Friday, March 1, 2024

Lover, Stalker, Killer 2024 * * * 1/2 Stars

KILLER ZONE

Giving you the feeling that it's just better to be catfished than having an actual person put you through the courting wringer, 2024's Lover, Stalker, Killer is a chilling documentary about failed relationships, the devotion to that lingers, some creep up on stature, and some would-be murder. "Never get involved with crazy" as they say. Clocking in at 90 minutes with a twist near the end and a malefactor dose of Middle America Americana, "Killer" sucks you in with its timeline diegesis that unfolds (and unfurls) like pure fiction (even though it's totally non-fiction). "A match made in heaven". Um, are you sure about that big guy? I mean are you really?

Distributed by Netflix and directed by a guy who's had at least 25 years in the biz (Sam Hobkinson), Lover, Stalker, Killer is about a real-life dude (Dave Kroupa) who while trying online dating, meets a woman who ends up scaring him for life (that would be the deranged Shanna Golyar). Yup, Golyar fits the title of "Killer" to a tee because she was Dave's lover, she did stalk him, and she was convicted of offing his short-term, other girlfriend. "You don't really know who they are". Uh, true dat.

So yeah, "Killer" is unlike any docu I've ever seen. Why? Because it's not filmed in the standard way and doesn't pretend to be. Helmer Hobkinson, well he'd rather use the actual people involved and not many actors, choosing to have the true story events play out as reenactments sans the camera just peeking in. It's all so diverting, perplexed, and fresh, like some drawn-out episode of Paranormal Witness, Dateline, and/or Forensic Files. The exception? Well Lover, Stalker, Killer has better production values, an eerier musical score, more inching tension, and more voyeuristic direction than the former. "Killer instinctive".

Written by Jesse Burleson

Wednesday, February 28, 2024

Wheelman 2017 * * * Stars

FREEWHEELER 

The wheelman in 2017's Wheelman is named the anonymous "wheelman". He is portrayed by Frank Grillo in a role that he was probably born to play. Grillo's style of acting is to appear fervent, raw, and rattled, like a dude who lives his life the same as a New York minute. In almost every frame of Wheelman that runs 82 minutes, Frank Grillo is like Ryan O'Neal, Ryan Gosling, and Steve McQueen. You know, guys with nameless character names that took the whip, did some hooning, squealed out of the garage like a mother, and burned a whole lot of rubber. "You just drive the car". Uh, there's more to it than that pal. 

Shot in Boston, MA with maybe one or two camera setups and lots of close-ups, Wheelman is about a getaway driver who on a routine bank robbery gig, gets messed with by outside entities who try to thwart his mission of taking the money to the drop. Driving a stick shift and armed with a nasty chip on his shoulder plus an AK-47, Grillo makes Wheelman take shape like a one-man show. He talks nervously on his cell phone, evades various bad guys, flexes his machismo, and shows off his mad navigating skills via a shiny Beemer. "Sit back". Yeah you tell 'em Frankie. 

Assault rifles and New England locales aside, Wheelman is shot POV-style with aplomb for most of the way. Wheelman is also lean and mean, noir-like, and darkly pulpy, a nifty little thriller that excels more in terms of modus operandi and agitation than overall story. Grillo, well he makes it as watchable as it can be until Wheelman's complicated plot workings of innominate, hoodwink mob types and unknown caller voices kick in. Then the film misses greatness only to try and "reinvent itself". Natch. 

Written by Jesse Burleson

Saturday, February 24, 2024

Mike Epps: Ready to Sell Out 2024 * * Stars

SELL SHORT

A lot of stand-up specials always seem so generic, like some "now you see it, now you don't" cash grab. 2024's Mike Epps: Ready to Sell Out, well it clocks in at 61 minutes with little intro, a small Phoenix, Arizona venue for shooting, and mostly marginal laughs. "I know you guys see me in the movies, but the money's gone". Like I said, cash grab.

But hey, I'm not saying Mike Epps (the comedian featured) isn't funny cause he can be, just not in "Sell Out". Take for instance his 2005 outing titled Mike Epps: Inappropriate Behavior. That was hilarious as Epps waxed profusely on Michael Jackson, the TV show Cops, Montel Williams, and Judge Joe Brown. With "Sell Out" he regresses, talking about the effects of cocaine, getting smacked around by your girlfriend, the Will Smith "slap", and straight up infidelity. The material here feels stale and attenuated, only viable for maybe half the film's running time (the other half appears like filler). "You all know darn well I don't come here". Really Mike, I wouldn't have guessed it.

Gift of gab regression and goofy talk show hosts aside, Mike Epps: Ready to Sell Out is filmed in the standard way by director Royale Watkins. You know, how every comedy special is ever filmed, every time. A close-up here, a long shot there, a lateral everywhere, all while Epps does his usual shtick of prowling the stage. To say Mike Epps is off his A game this time is like saying snow is frozen water. It's just a fact as he's on and off the screen faster than a speeding bullet. Maybe if the vehicle was formed like 1987's Eddie Murphy Raw it could be something of value. Like add a skit at the beginning with real actors or add some interviews later on from actual audience members. That way Mike Epps: Ready to Sell Out would do more than just be you know, "selling out". Natch.

Written by Jesse Burleson

Thursday, February 22, 2024

Four Falls of Buffalo 2015 * * * Stars

FOUR EYED

Four Falls of Buffalo is a 30 for 30 documentary of anguish and lost yearning. For every moment of light at the end of the tunnel, there is the pain and disillusionment of the Buffalo Bills losing four Super Bowls in a row. "Four Falls", well it's a downer but at least it's straight-from-the-shoulder as the interviewees speak without argument. Former Bills QB Jim Kelly and former Bills wide receiver Don Beebe are the Greek choruses here. One looks a little downhearted, the other surprisingly cheerful.

Distributed by Disney+ and directed by Ken Rodgers (producer of Hard Knocks), Four Falls of Buffalo chronicles the Buffalo Bills teams of the 1990s and how they won so darn much but just couldn't lift that almighty, Lombardi Trophy. Rodgers gives the docu that distinct, NFL Films look (obviously) plus archive footage and sound offs from battered Bills brethren.

Watching "Four Falls", you kind of wonder why it was made. I mean why bring up the sad past of stuff like "wide right", the forgetting of one's helmet via Super Bowl XXVI, or getting 52 points put on you by those pesky Dallas Cowboys. Could it be a cry for help for bygone Bills players and lifelong, present Bills fans? Maybe. There's just so much somberness and affliction in the faces of dudes like former RB Thurman Thomas, former DE Bruce Smith, and former QB Kelly (mentioned earlier). They're obviously not celebrating anything over the course of "Four Falls" and its 102-minute, fly-by running time. Heck, it feels more like they're attending a repast after a funeral.

Gridiron grievances and America's Team aside, Four Falls of Buffalo is crispy edited, perfectly narrated by actor William Fichtner, sort of arcane, and anything but self-effacing. If you're a Bills fanatic it might turn you off, as the proceedings try to glorify 2nd place by polishing that last-gasp, cinematic poop. If you're a football enthusiast and don't root for the Bills (that would be me), then you might feel the opposite, bewitched by why an NFL team losing the big game over and over again heralds a partial quandary. Take these "falls".

Written by Jesse Burleson

Sunday, February 18, 2024

The Legend of Billie Jean 1985 * * * Stars

"WE CAN'T AFFORD TO BE INNOCENT"

The Legend of Billie Jean is a product of the "Greed decade", probably because it was made in 1985. It's in the techno soundtrack, the summer outfits, the mullet hairstyles, and that theme song by Pat Benatar that sticks in your craw. At 96 minutes, "Billie Jean" also combines the hero drama with a whiff of some depraved, Jerry Springer episode. "You like anything that's on the TV". Uh-huh.

Directed by Matthew Robbins, a dude that hasn't made anything since some music video over three decades ago, The Legend of Billie Jean is a movie cut from original cloth, void of any intentioned marketing by TriStar Pictures and nodding mildly to the story of Joan of Arc (1957's Saint Joan to be exact). 

Heck, I remember it like it was yesterday, seeing an advertisement for "Billie Jean" playing in some small, rundown theatre near my hometown in Michigan. Didn't care, didn't go and it was only when the flick showed up on cable that I began to watch it profusely. The Legend of Billie Jean, well it feels like a cult film even if it was never deemed a cult film (according to wiki). Initial box-office bomb (check). Never really accepted by the mainstream (check). B movie residue (check). Marginality (checkdown). What's left but um, audience participation. Uh, it's not that kind of a party up in here.

So yeah, the plot of "Billie Jean" is about a scooter. You heard me, a scooter. Some rich jerks steal it from a brother and sister via the trailer park neighborhood. When said sister (Helen Slater as Billie Jean) tries to collect money to have it repaired after it has been trashed, conflict and chaos ensue in the form of a shooting and/or fast getaway. 

Bottom line: The Legend of Billie Jean is entertaining, a movie of its time (remember when everybody dressed up like Madonna so the real one could have been an impersonator?), and the feature debut for one Christian Slater (no relation to Helen by the way). The vehicle predates social media, predates fifteen minutes of fame, and postdates the impoverished ways of sibling Bonnie and Clyde. "Legen... wait for it...dary."

Written by Jesse Burleson